#welcome to what its like living in my brain. that it took SO LONG to turn this request. into this

[dromaeo-sauridae]

Perhaps a whimsical quirrel

request too vague i spent a week trying to think of something to draw

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Peeper | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Synopsis: Getting the Halloween season started early with back to back parties was enough to drain you – tucker you out in a heartbeat. But Cooper used it as an excuse to see you, really see you.

Warnings: Dark!Cooper, Mentions of Stalking, Perv!Cooper, Cooper Being a Peeping Tom, Male Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mentions of Childhood Abuse, Mentions of Fire, Mentions of a Hostage Situation, Mentions of Being Held Hostage, Choking

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: The SWAT outfit brought this on. You’re welcome in advance. This is second person POV from Cooper’s perspective; I wanted to try something a bit different so I hope you enjoy!  

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The darkness of night is the perfect way to hatch plans, the perfect way of preying on those who you find interest in. Never does it have to be in a malicious way. No, never does it have to be evil. It can be kind and clean, courteous and courageous, just depending on the context of the situation. Sometimes the darkness can hide a lot of bad things, shroud them in a cloud of abandon so evil can take over. They can run around on short legs, running here and there are supersonic speeds – to which no one can detect a thing. It’s brilliant in a way how evil can push itself through anyone – or anyone for that matter. How it can turn someone so delicate and perfect, into a monster overnight. But not for him, no, the evil didn’t burn itself into him from birth. He was a product of evil, a product of malice, a product of hate. He is the prodigal son of evil, he’s its perfect child.

To hide that part of himself away everyday ate at him, gnawing on his bones and flesh like a disease. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to lash out – surely anyone would from stressful work conditions to life not going the way it was planned out to be. Yet no one can justify it, no one can see that part of him, the truest part of his darkened soul. It’s a mystery, a character for that matter. Though he doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as an extension of his rage, his tumultuous upbringing and constant bullying – it is a part of his personality he can switch off with just the right coaxing. Like any type of characteristic, it isn’t long before others start to notice. Not in the way that you expect, but in a duller manner. Here and there things; His cleanliness, how he doesn’t like to leave his fingerprints anywhere, the order he needs things arranged or how he copes with uncertainty. They never raised red flags – but keen eyes took notice of his particular nature. If only they knew beneath the surface, a killer was in their midst.

Cooper Adams loves to save lives, that is a given. Fire chief for the Philadelphia Fire Department for ten years, in the business for a total of seventeen. This is what he was meant to do, what he was meant to be at the end of the day. He is the solace for those who are suffering, he is the salvation to those who are stuck. He can play God and be rewarded for it – how sweet is that? But to Cooper it isn’t about playing God or being the one who is in control, it’s more than that. It’s being who everyone relies on for stressful situations, the one who knows their way out of any type of deal. It’s prevalent in his eyes when he speaks, the passion he has for his job, his family – everything in his life really. A wholesome, well-rounded American individual; He is the picture-perfect example of masculinity. He’s the picture-perfect example of a psychopath.

Too much anger and rage was directed towards him as a child, and it was not beneficial for a growing brain. Rejection at a young age can cause fear; Fear of intimacy, fear of expression, always needing to people please to get someone to like you. Cooper went through that, way too much to admit. Always fighting to have his mother’s love, which he learned too early that would always come in the form of a hand across his face. His tears were tears of love, according to his mother. Every hit that was administered by her own hands, showed just how much she loved her son. Cooper couldn’t tell the difference until he got older – until she passed away. Alas, he felt free to be himself, instead of being her disappointment.

He never wanted to get into this line of work, other work per say. Like all others, the opportunity presented itself like any other day. A fresh-faced twenty-five-year-old who wanted to make a difference in the world after the tragedies the world faced. He wanted to be a household name, one where anyone in town could say and smiles would erupt. He would always be their hero, their martyr when the flames would not extinguish. If it meant saving everyone, he was always the first on the line. That was until his first ever fire, when he realized the world no longer had a need for his kindness – but his brutality. A seven-alarm fire at Aramark Tower in Center City was supposed to change his life forever, in which it did but not for the right reason. Cooper would’ve never described himself as a violent person, but this day changed everything.

On the twelfth floor sat the culprit for the fire, a worker who was holding a whole room hostage. Some of his very own firefighters were under this man’s unsteady hand. The gun was shaking uncontrollably in the man’s hand as he pointed it towards Cooper’s chest – the smoke slowly growing thicker from the floors above. The haze was starting to set in, and the man couldn’t stop coughing. At the moment he turned Cooper pressed the man’s front against the adjacent wall – letting all of the hostages out, the workers fleeing as the next group of firefighters came up. His own department, his flesh and blood. He was grateful they were there. But not from his firehouse, those ones fled with the chaos. Instead the firefighters from across down stared at him with amused looks, surely enough impressed that a young man like Cooper was holding his own against some sociopath. Cooper was wrong though, that is when he started to notice the evil within. Its bloodied fingers sinking into his flesh like razor wire, slicing and dicing his insides with every scale it climbed. He could feel it climbing up the column of his spine, sinking its meaty fingers through his spinal discs. “Good luck finding your way out, rookie.” Someone yelled at him as they slammed the door shut, barricading him in the inside.

All hell broke loose in that moment, that gnawing sensation he had when he was a child coming back into his adulthood – expect he couldn’t push it down anymore. Clawing at his own throat, he released a guttural scream of agony as the smoke filled the room – dropping to his hands and knees with animalistic movements. “We’re just kidding, bud. Welcome to the-“ Cooper didn’t recognize the voices, he didn’t understand who it was. The man he once held against the wall was cowering in the corner, rocking back and forth with the gun pressed into his palm. He stared at Cooper like he wasn’t human, but a creature. All Cooper could see was red, filling his vision, covering his mask to the point where he could not see. He could feel it though, his body moving languidly like he was swimming – graceful, intricate, serene. He was swimming out in Myrtle Beach like when he was a kid, feeling the crisp summer sun scorch him. But boy was it worth it, it felt safe again – knowing nothing could hurt him.

As if to wipe the sunscreen off of his forehead, Cooper brought his hand around his mask to clear off the water from it. Though it wasn’t water, and he was not swimming in the ocean. Instead in front of Cooper laid six bodies, cut into pieces. Blood coated his mask, his gear, his soul. Everything was red; The white walls coated in heroic blood of those firefighters. The man who held everyone hostage, a gunshot wound to the temple. Cooper’s eyes flared at the sight, chest heaving as the axe shook within his hand. The monster he always suppressed, let feed on his trauma and rejection as a child, finally found its place within his world – within his life. It was clear the fire was starting to burn closer to his floor when the sprinkles went off, a showering of clear and red flowing down the walls. The dark carpet soaked with the blood of the victims, and the chaos of his dissociation.

Cooper walked neatly over to the deceased man and laid the axe next to him, letting the sprinkles above soak his gear until no red stood. No one saw him go up to this floor, he never commed in like he was supposed to. No one would know it was him; The cameras are long gone. “Always the monster, Cooper. You will never outrun your evil, son.” His mom’s tender voice swept into his brain, causing him to tear up – for the amount he loathed that woman, he still missed her voice. Oxygen was starting to run low in his tank, but he knew he needed to get out. Instead of staying on the twelfth floor, Cooper managed to make his way down to the sixth, panting, out of breath, and soaked. “Adams! Where the fuck were you!?” His fire chief at the time yelled, dragging Cooper out of the doorway and into the conference room for a moment. “S-Sixteenth fl-floor. P-people s-screaming, d-d-dead.” Cooper managed to let out before he collapsed, the hard linoleum whacking against his head. Everything went dark so quick, but for the first time in his life – he felt justified.

Cooper gasps as he hears your voice coming from outside of his car, his hands shaking at the recounting of his trauma. Cooper hated waiting around, letting his mind wander, because every time it always brought him back to his first kills. The first ever lives he took, before The Butcher was his name. In a way he felt for those firefighters, knowing how the aftermath made him look to be an almost casualty of The Ripper. The narrative he chose for the last seventeen years has worked in his favor, and he would keep it that way. But alas, it eats at him just like that little demon did. But you, you were what he needed – you were his solace. You kept him sane and didn’t even know who he was. It was perfect. All Cooper could do now was slowly break you, and you’d never even know.

As you walked past Cooper’s black suburban, you pulled the nurse’s cap off of your head – thinking it appropriate to be a nurse for your first of many Halloween parties. The outfit complimented your body so well; Cooper loved watching how it hugged you in all the right places, showing off his favorite parts of you. He has seen you look at him so many times, like you fully saw him rather than it being through him. You made him feel alive, feel sane in such a cruel world. How could he ever thank you for that? Bringing himself back to reality as you walked to your front door, Cooper swallowed down the panic ready to break free from his throat, closing his eyes to ground himself. All this waiting, contemplation, it was all for you. All these months, silently pining over you, he knew his time would come soon. Your time will come soon. He wasn’t going to let this will they won’t they play out anymore. This wasn’t going to be like one of the books you liked to read – it was going to be better.

Thankfully with everyone in their Halloween costumes making their way back home, Cooper could easily blend in with the rest of the crowd. His costume was unconventional – but accurate, and cool. He managed to nab one of the Philadelphia SWAT tactical gear a while ago. Never did he think it would be of use, but here he is. It left him looking inconspicuous, blending in with all of his surroundings. When the streetlights would shut off at midnight, he didn’t need to worry about getting caught or even being seen. He could go full incognito and not have to worry – because at the end of the day no one in the neighborhood watched. They never looked out for each other or mentioned when things felt off. They were complacent in their day to day, keeping their lives separate from everyone else. That’s what Cooper loved the most about your neighborhood – no one would be suspicious of him, or know he was there. Seven-foot-tall fencing covered your property; Around the sides and back into the woods. It was private, spacious, and perfect for you. He was happy you took his advice and haggled the price. Though it was only left as a sticky note on your work desk – he convinced you that you wrote it. Cooper hated gaslighting you but, it was the only way for you to get that home. He always felt guilty but, it worked out the way it needed to.

The kitchen light came on in the front of your house, your nurse costume slowly being shed away from the uncomfortable feeling of it. Cooper felt his knuckles tighten around the steering wheel as he watched you, finding his perfect moment to slip out. Your back was pressed against the kitchen counter, looking out into the interior of your home versus outside. A gaggle of college girls dressed as nuns wandered by, causing Cooper to see his opening. Slipping out of his suburban, he put on the SWAT helmet, buckling it right under his chin as he kept his eyes forward, humming to himself to keep him sane. A small smile was present on his lips as the girls stopped for a moment, checking their map location to see if the party was the right way. None of them even acknowledged him as he walked past, keeping his eyes set on your home instead. Coming from the opposite way was a few frat guys dressed as priests, causing Cooper to roll his eyes at the on-the-nose couple outfits. The squeals the girls let out at the guys made his hair stand on end, reminding him too much of the Lady Raven concert last October. The last time he saw Riley, Logan…the last time he could be a dad.

Thinking about his kids made him grow tense, worried – it sucked being away from them, but this was for the best, for now. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how they were doing in school, he kept tabs from miles away. Cooper never wanted to stop being a dad, and he wasn’t going to start that anytime soon. Bringing his phone out of his vest pocket, he brought it up to his ear, mimicking a phone call as he rounded the fence you had up, standing on the left-hand side as he walked into your yard. Silently he thanked you for never replacing your camera out back, or the motion lights for that matter. Having it be this easy for him was a dream come true, plus with your neighbors away – others unable to see him creeping around back, there was no way he wasn’t going to see you now. He tucked his phone away into his pocket once more as your back porch came into view, the stairs on the left side flush to the door. That is when Cooper smirked to himself, chuckling low into the night – seeing the one thing you forgot to do, lock the back door.

In fact, it wasn’t even closed but cracked open the tiniest amount. As a former fire chief, he needed to know these things; If a seal was loose or not flush enough against the grain, it could invite oxygen in, make the fire rage on harder if the door were to be kicked in. Thankfully no fires would be breaking out at your place, not when he made sure they wouldn’t. That itch inside of him was starting to blister, his pupils dilating with the thought of creeping through your home. Cooper was so dead set on watching you tonight through your windows, that he didn’t even consider the option of going inside. With all the clunky gear on though – he was hesitant. He didn’t let that stop him from what he really wanted; You. As his back was crouched under your living room window, he used the edge of the flashlight on his belt to push your door open, the instant smell of nutmeg and cinnamon flooding his senses.

With every inch the door started to open, he grew cautious, knowing at any point he could push it open completely and be met with you. He didn’t think you’d run and tell anyone, that was a fact he was certain of. But he didn’t necessarily know if you’d fight back. A feisty little thing like you wouldn’t surprise him, everyone has their own demons they deal with. To Cooper, more or less he didn’t want to ruin the clean research he has done on you over the last year. When he saw you after escaping police custody that night, he knew you’d turn everything around for him. A giver, a lover, an angel on this Earth – you brought joy wherever you walked, and didn’t tell a soul about your own struggles. He wanted to take that away from you, claim your suffering so you could be happy. He would take everything away from you if it meant you would be happy, safe, and serene in your own life. He didn’t want you to know pain – only joy.

As the back door swung open enough to slide his body through, Cooper stood fully erect. The SWAT gear was a bit much trying to push through the gap, causing a creak to sound. Standing still half in and half out, Cooper pushed through the last bit with a grimace, hoping you didn’t dare to come around that corner. With the layout of your home, as soon as he entered through the back door, he was met with the foyer; Winter boots, coats, and scarves hung from the hook on the wall – the warm light flooding through his body. It caused him to feel nostalgic, those times in the late 80’s to early 90’s growing up; Halloween was such a magical time, full of bright colors and warm flavors, things were good – he could be a good boy if it meant the beatings would stop. “Fuck,” a low whimper came from the opposite side of the wall, causing Cooper to stop in his tracks. He was ever-so-slowly closing the back door, making sure no creaks or groans happened as it was shut, clicking over the lever lock, as well as the two deadbolts. The curtain pulled flush to the glass; No one would see a thing.

Another whimper flowed effortlessly through the air, circling around Cooper in whisps of gold and auburn. He felt his cheeks heating at the anticipation, his toes tingling with excitement. Placing a booted foot across the fresh carpet leading to the living room, Cooper let his head peak out from where he was standing, extending out the smallest of bits to catch a glimpse of you. What he had failed to realize was the position of the living room to the foyer; You could not see him from your position but, he could see you. The couch was pushed under the bay window in the living room, a plethora of plants sat in the sills spot. The arm of the couch was a few inches away from the wall to which he was creeping around, giving him the most beautiful picture he has ever seen. It crossed his mind for a brief moment to take a photo of you like this, but he did not want to break the image set forth. He was enraptured by you, a beautiful creature in a dull world.

On the couch you laid flat, one leg tossed up around the back of the couch whilst the other fell open against the coffee table. Your platform heels were still on your feet; The clean plastic leather heavy contrast with the red bottoms. The nurse’s dress you had on earlier for a costume was pulled up and pushed down around your midsection, baring your breasts for all to see. All the while your left-hand was delicately placed between your thighs, running up and down your slit with a squelch. Your right hand was cupping your breast, toying with your nipple, your entire body shivering from the feeling. “Yes,” breathlessly you moan into the open air, grinding your hips against your hand. The second the pads of your fingers make contact with your clit, you knew you were a goner. The softness of your fingers contrasting with the warmth of your cunt caused you to slip into your own mind, not aware at all of your surroundings; You liked it that way.

Cooper on the other hand couldn’t get enough of you, trying so hard to suppress a moan he threatened to let out. His cock jolted at the moans you were letting out, throbbing harshly behind his black jeans. All it would take is undoing his belt buckle the slightest of bits to relieve some of the pressure, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. Cooper’s eyes never left your face as he peered down at you, his tall stature making everything you were doing abundantly clear. Sneaking around the corner enough to hide his body from you, Cooper undid his belt as quietly as he could, tucking the buckle into his pocket to get it out of the way. A quick flick of his thumb caused his jeans to unbutton, and the zipper to fall down easily. A wave of cold sweats broke out around his body as his skin was to the open air, the breeze cutting through his black briefs.

His gloved hand slid down the front of his briefs, running the padded side down his erect cock. The friction was a delicious burn at first, but it was not going to hold him over. Snaking his fingers between his teeth, Cooper ripped the glove off as fast as he could, shoving his hand back into his underwear and releasing himself. When the heated, erect flesh of his cock met the cool air of your home, he whimpered. Not something he would ever consider himself to do but, you made him weak in the best way possible. His bare thumb pressed against the base of his cock, trying to steady himself. A small bead of cum was pooled at the head, glistening against the firelight. Hearing your scandalizing moans set Cooper on edge, causing him to twitch due to your sweet mewls. He knew he wasn’t going to last very long, a year without any type of contact with another person would do that. Cooper wrapped his thick fingers around the underside of his cock, squeezing in slow increments to get used to the feel again.

He was burning from the inside out, his body up in flames as he watched you – while touching himself. Slowly he slid his meaty hand up the full length of his shaft, pulsating his hand in short doses; He could feel his eyes rolling back at the relief. He never found pleasure in pleasuring himself – it felt like too much work when he could make someone else feel good with him. As his eyes laid upon you sprawled out, pleasuring yourself for anyone to see, he could understand why the self-indulgence of masturbating was intoxicating, why many loved it. For him he felt the tension of the last year start to flow away; Each stroke of his strong hand sent a cascade of pleasure down his spine. He could find himself drowning in it all if he wasn’t careful, but the recklessness in him wanted to paint your face.

Peering down at your half naked form, Cooper gained a steady pace on his cock, finding the right rhythm that worked for him. In tandem with the tight circles of your fingers, he found it erotic that the same ministrations were giving him pleasure as they were you. It felt like you two were connected, not physically but on another level. He could feel his cock stiffening at the thought, his tip a violent shade of purple from all the arousal. He needed to be closer to you, this distance was eating him alive. Cooper was never this careless, he never would’ve made himself known in a situation like this. The smell of your arousal and the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead caused the animal inside of him to peer out, the one that released from him seventeen years ago, the one that put him on the map as a brutal killer. It seemed to have climbed his ribcage, puncturing his lungs, spleen, kidneys as it rose. The feral monster within him gnawing at bone, sawing through muscle and tissue in order to rise higher. Primal grunts and groans were releasing out of Cooper at an alarming rate – he couldn’t hold back much longer. For his legs took him not where he wanted to be, but where he desperately needed. Directly. Over. You.

“C-Cooper!” You moaned out sweetly, bring him back into reality. Cooper’s eyes flared out of their momentary hypnosis to see what he was being met with. Instead of hiding behind the wall of your foyer, watching you touch yourself from afar – Cooper was hovering over your head by the arm of the couch. His glistening cock mere inches away from your face, his eyes as dark as the night. He was fucked out of his mind and you were loving every moment of it. The sight of him so feral, so taken with the sight of your arousal, it was enough to cause your climax to speed up. “Touch me,” you whimpered softly, bringing the hand that was on your breast up to swipe over the wet head of his cock. The cum spattered on your thumb with a simple flick, you did not hesitate to rub it against your bottom lip. Cooper wasn’t even phased that you knew his name, someone who you have never had any contact with, or knew of what he had done – he presumed. But that was just it – it was your job to know everyone in town. To know who your next victim could be.

Cooper’s gloved left-hand didn’t hesitate to grasp at your throat from behind, restricting the blood flow to your brain. The euphoric sensation of pressure building in your head caused your orgasm to crest – a bright burning life of warmth behind your eyes as your fingers worked double time. Your body shivered with each stroke; Long, languid moans seeping out like a broken waterpipe – the flood kept coming and you didn’t want it to end. Watching you get off on your own hand caused Cooper’s climax to ignite. With a few rough thrusts into his hand, Cooper felt his balls pull up into himself – ready to burst at the seams. The animalistic scream he managed to get out was strangled as he gripped at your throat harder, his cock pressed against your forehead. Simply looking up at him was enough to make him cum. You felt like he was mere moments away from ending you where you laid, but you knew he wouldn’t – couldn’t for that matter.

Your name left his lips in a mewl of passion as his cock met its end. A clean shot of his seed cascading down your chin, your breast, and to your clothed stomach. Every bit of cum he was letting out was enough to make you wet again; A man without the touch of a woman, or himself for that matter. Each thrust of himself into his own hand caused thicker shots to flow over your body – you weren’t going to stop him. Instead, you held out your tongue as he kept going, catching some of his salty seed in your mouth. With Cooper’s eyes screwed tightly shut, you brought your wet fingers up to his naked hand, running it along the protruding veins on the back of his hand. That was enough to wake him from his quiet slumber above you, feeling the pressure building harder within your head. As the last of his cum shot out across your tongue, Cooper let his hand around your neck relax, his eyes falling open. The sight below him was a masterpiece, one he wishes he could make last forever. His essence covering your body – a fucked out look on your face. This was his own personal heaven, and he never wanted to come down from it. Your gentle gaze met his blissful one, and he felt his heart stammer. Nothing in this world could compare to your beauty; Distance did not due you justice. As he stands above you, he got to see the real you – he couldn’t get over how gorgeous you truly are.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Adams,” you huffed with a laugh after swallowing his load, biting your lip as you slowly sat up. It broke Cooper out of his daydream, his cock soft against the waistband of his briefs – still a mouthful even when not erect. Standing at full attention, you glanced down at your body to see the aftermath – feeling a flush growing over your skin at the sight of being covered in him. You could tell it was affecting Cooper as he put his cock back into his briefs, the crotch on his jeans stiffening slightly. “You as well, Miss.” He managed to let out, chuckling as his eyes cascaded down your body. There was something dark within him that he was trying to push down; You didn’t like that. It’s what drew you to him those months ago, made you want to move to this town, to be close to him. You knew who Cooper Adams is, how he was stalking you. You played into every hand of his, wanting him to know you were the good in his world. You two could rule together, be the parents of evil – to let it out instead of holding it in. He is The Butcher, and you are The Baker.

“You’re so beautiful,” Cooper murmured, not wanting to seem out of the ordinary but he needed you to know. Your eyes glanced up over him in his SWAT outfit, feeling the slick between your legs growing once more. His broad shoulders looked so form fitted in the tactical vest. His thick thighs were highlighted by the rugged denim of his jeans. His large feet covered in beat up leather boots – he is the walking embodiment of sex, and you wanted to climb him. Feeling flattered at his words, you started to make your way over to him, watching how the black of his pupils cancelled out the auburn of his irises – showing that Cooper wasn’t fully in control, but the demon inside him was. A lump formed at the back of his throat as the post nut clarity set in, trying to find his words without making a mistake. “I thought you’d be afraid of me, if you knew who I was.” Cooper mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on your carpeted floor, feeling a flush rise upon his cheeks. You felt your lips pull up into a soft smile, showcasing your loving nature. Bringing a hand up to Cooper’s cheek, you gently caressed at the small stubble growing on his chin, his disheveled brown hair in his eyes. Your right hand came up to push the hair out of his face, giving you a good grasp on his locks as you raked your fingers through. Sliding down the back of his head, at the base of his neck you wrapped his hairs around your fingers, tugging at the root with precision. Looking up into his eyes, you let a sinister smirk fall to your lips, your lips a mere few centimeters off of his; “I fear no man.”

If Cooper was right about anything in this world, it was that you were his match. The Butcher and The Baker, wreaking havoc across Philadelphia.

---

General Taglist: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica @minedofmoria

Cooper Adams Smut: @exhoism

[prolix-yuy]

Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance. 

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him. 

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed. 

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed. 

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store. 

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this. 

It would take two months for Din to come to you. 

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe. 

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip. 

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head. 

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you. 

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great. 

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike. 

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect. 

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm. 

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further. 

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent. 

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip. 

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?” 

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset. 

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths. 

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches. 

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission. 

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs. 

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust. 

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now. 

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head. 

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed. 

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders. 

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make. 

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy). 

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water. 

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.” 

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight. 

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.” 

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder. 

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space. 

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor. 

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk. 

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

[lost-in-fandoms]

A little kitten knight Max AU prompt because honestly, I will never have enough... Also, don't worry about fulfilling it any time soon, just for when the brain worms want to worm, and if they never want to, that's fine too. But I noticed, a common trend in this AU is that Max turns into his cat form when Daniel least expects it and its like a welcome surprise to him when it happens, cue cuteness and love.

So what about a time, well in their established relationship, probably when he's used to Max's shifting pattern, something happens and he's expecting Max to shift, and it doesn't happen? And Daniel is just like ???? but cat form????

OR one where Daniel is the one in the need of comfort at the time, which is rare, despite Max being the Knight Captain and supposedly the tough one, and Max tries to help him in his human form but nothing works, so he shifts into his kitten form and that's the one that does the trick...

I'm sorry, this AU really corrupted my brain now, I will shut up now and patiently wait for another bit at some point

Thank you so much for sending this! It means a lot to me that you enjoy this universe so much <3

It took me a few days, but I hope you like this! I took the two prompts and combined them into one! Also this is accidentally almost 1.8k.

Daniel loves his life.

It's not perfect, and it's not the easiest, he could do with less dead hour watches and more hours in bed, preferably with Max, but it's good. He has a group of friends he loves dearly, even if they're mostly dickheads, and the last time he lost one was because he left the guards to go live on a farm with his family, not because of war and death. The kingdom has been mostly peaceful for years, and even the occasional border skirmishes have become less frequent, mostly solved with words and carefully placed marriages and threats.

And he has Max. Max, who is his own little piece of magic, who would make this life worth it even if it was worse than this.

So yes, Daniel loves Max, and he loves his life, but sometimes... Sometimes, when the nights are long and cold, and the rain seems endless, he can't help but miss the searing hot burn of red sand and the blinding glare of the sun. Sometimes, when one of the guys leaves the castle to have a meal with his family, his own food turns to ash in his mouth, tasting nothing like the things he used to love. Sometimes, when him and Max take three days of leave to go visit his mother or his sister, he can't help but think about how three days would not even cover half of way home for him, no matter a whole round trip.

Sometimes he's homesick.

He doesn't regret leaving, doesn't regret the adventures that brought him here, doesn't regret this life, will never regret putting down roots by Max's side, but he wishes it didn't have to be that far away. He never stopped exchanging letters with his family, with his mom especially, but it's not the same. It's not the same when he thinks about how useless he'd be if someone grew sick, or died. It's not the same when, even if he'll never tell anyone, he misses his mom's arms around him more fiercely than anything.

In those times, he pulls himself away. He doesn't hang out with the others outside of his shift, he doesn't spar for fun, he doesn't sit down with them in the hazy vapor of the baths, doesn't share meals with them. It's not easier to deal with the feeling by himself, but it's not harder, and that will have to do.

He's sitting on top of one of the high towers, eyes fixed on the horizon as if he would suddenly become able to see all the way home, when Max finds him.

He's still wearing his fancy cloak, the one he wears when the King has important visitors and Max needs to look less like a random guard and more like his Captain, he must have come straight from his duties, but he still leans against the wet stone ramparts with Daniel.

For a long moment, they stand in silence. Daniel can feel Max's eyes on him, but he doesn't look, busy trying to pierce insurmountable distances.

"Are you alright?" Max finally asks, shifting closer, their arms brushing from shoulder to wrist, their fingers knocking together. Even if they're alone, it's not safe to touch any more than that, and Daniel appreciates the gesture.

He nods, not really feeling like talking, suddenly wishing Max could hold him right there. He doesn't want to take his eyes away from the horizon, doesn't want Max to move further away. He wants both, always wants both, and it would make him laugh if it was any other moment, how simply the ache in his heart can be summarised in this single moment.

Max shifts again next to him, moving his weight from one foot to another, an unusual show of hesitance from him that doesn't really surprise Daniel. As lovely as Max is, he never really knows what to say when Daniel is like this.

Where Daniel had been raised with gentle hands and words of love, Max had known bruises and reproach, and even if he's come a long way, he still struggles sometimes with reassurances and feelings.

Max shifts again, their arms no longer touching, and Daniel almost expects to look to the side and find a kitten watching him instead. It's what Max does when he doesn't know what to say to Daniel: he turns in a shape where things are easier and then pours out his love in purrs and kitten licks, cuddling as close as possible to Daniel's heart.

But when Daniel looks, Max is still there, taking off his cloak to carefully drape him across Daniel's shoulders.

Daniel shivers, surprise and sudden warmth making his chest feel weird. He hadn't even realised he was cold.

It's not quite a hug, but he accepts it with the best version of a smile he can muster at the moment, and it seems to be enough to satisfy Max. They stand on top of the tower in silence for a long time.

The feeling doesn't go away the next day. Or the one after that.

It's unusual for him to feel this heavily homesick for so many days in a row, but he doesn't know how to make it go away, and it's clear Max doesn't know either.

He's been staying as close to Daniel as possible, taking care of him in many small different ways, holding him tight when they find each other in bed, but it doesn't seem to be enough. There's an ache in Daniel's chest that doesn't go away.

He's walking through the courtyard, limbs feeling heavier than they should be even after a long watch in the city's streets, when his eyes catch on a shadow, slinking away between some crates, and he realises what it might be that he needs.

"I saw a cat earlier," he tells Max.

They're laying in bed, Daniel's head on Max's naked chest, both too tired to have sex but still needing to be close.

"Are you going to make a joke about cousins again?" Max grumbles, chest vibrating under Daniel's cheek. He doesn't have to look up to know Max is frowning and smiling at the same time.

"No," Daniel replies with a giggle, "even if..."

Max pinches him before he can finish the sentence, and Daniel yelps, squirming away and then closer again.

He takes a breath, steadying himself. He doesn't know if this is okay to ask, has never had to ask before.

"Is everything okay?" Max asks, serious again, one hand coming up to gently cup Daniel's cheek.

Daniel nods, then hesitates some more. He doesn't want to...offend Max, or something like that, but he also just. He thinks that would make it right. Maybe.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Max's answer come so quickly Daniel would tease him for it if it was another day.

"And if I am out of line, you'll tell me?"

Finally, Max seems to have enough of this uncertainty and he moves Daniel around until he's able to meet his eyes. There's a deep frown line between his eyebrows, and Daniel almost reaches out to smooth it out.

"You are worrying me, Daniel. Just say it?"

Daniel bites at his lip for a second, but then he nods again. If he drags it out further he'll either end up not saying it at all or turning it in an even bigger thing than it needs to be.

"Can you shift?" he blurts out, almost immediately regretting not thinking of a better question.

Max's frown deepens.

"You mean...I am able to?"

Daniel shakes his head, moving his hands restlessly.

"No, I mean, could you? Right now?" He hates not knowing if he's like making an horrible faux-pas right now, but at least he's pretty confident Max won't hate him for it.

Max tilts his head, eyes studying Daniel so carefully he feels a bit like a miniature in a gilded book, understanding slowly making his way onto his face. Daniel both loves and hates how well Max knows him.

"That would make you feel better?" he asks gently.

Daniel nods again, helpless, unable and unwilling to lie.

"It..he..." Max swallows, frustrated. Daniel is glad that at least they both seem uncertain on what way is the best one to talk about this. "It's better when I am like that?"

And oh, Daniel can't have that.

He shakes his head, hands flying up to cup Max's cheeks, crashing forward to push their lips together.

"No, no! You are perfect, and I..." he kisses Max again, tries to put too much into it. "You have been great, but I think..."

"Daniel," Max calls, half a smile on his lips, grabbing Daniel's shoulders.

Daniel takes a breath, letting Max slow him down again. The next kiss is softer, sweeter. His thoughts clearer.

"I love you, like this and like that, but I would like some furry cuddles right now."

Max smile grows at his choice of words, but he gently pushes Daniel away to get himself some space, not needing to be asked twice.

"I love you too," he says, pressing one last kiss to Daniel's cheek.

And then one second Daniel is looking at his eyes, and the next he has to look down to find the small kitten already fighting with the bunched up blankets.

He laughs, helping him out of them while ignoring the disgruntled little meows. He doesn't know what it is about this, but his soul already feels more settled, lighter.

"Hello baby," he greets, laying back down on the bed in a comfortable position. He immediately feels Max climbing over him, little pinpricks of pain following his journey towards Daniel's collarbone, but he stays still, letting him do his thing.

When Max is settled down, curled up in a little furry ball next to Daniel's neck, purrs already vibrating through him, he brings up a hand to pet him softly, feeling his wet nose press against his skin in response.

He reaches over to turn off the oil lamp, letting the moon take over. He still misses his old home, still misses his family, but the pain of it has subsided in the familiar thrum that always resides between his ribs, bearable once again.

"Thank you, Maxy," he whispers in the silver darkness, brushing his cheek against Max's little body. Max just purrs louder, and Daniel smiles.

Tomorrow he will write a new letter to his mom, will ask about his nephews and about the harvest, but for now he closes his eyes, letting Max lull him to sleep.

[wanderingxiao]

-My Goddess-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~ 

SPOILERS FOR SUMERU’S ARCHON QUEST BEWARE

Summary: Scaramouche brings you to Sumeru to have you witness his birth as a god, but he didn't plan for your reaction...

Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader

Warning: Spoilers for Akasha Pulses Archon quest, foul language, god complex Scara, unprotected sex, Scara is nice but mean, degradation, creampie, and little bit of angst and fluff.

Word Count: 5.6K (How tf did this get so long)

Enjoy~

“Look at them, (Y/N)! All those tiny insects… building my chamber where I shall rule over them.” The silver blade that was normally referred to as the balladeer’s tongue was ever so gentle and caring as he gazed upon the contexts of the scholar’s creation. His pale skin shined underneath all the lights, arms outstretched marveling at the glorious creation. The mechanized machine loomed over you both, your place next to the Balladeer forever being cast out by his own shadow. He was an incredibly selfish individual. His goals were never to bring you with him in his accession into godhood. A small pawn on his chess board to dispose of. “Isn’t it magnificent? Everyone, is preparing for my birth into this world, as a god!” His tongue dripped with venomous anticipation, poisoning you to praise him, worship him, and bow before his feet like the underling you now realized you were. “Are you going to stare gawking or are you going to congratulate me on finally achieving godhood after centuries of careful planning?”

“I’m sorry, My Lord. Forgive me for my lack of words.” Your response clearly did not do much for his souring mood upon not receiving your praise. He turned his body towards you, the jingle of the bells on his hat chiming at his slow steps towards you. Your composure remained unchanged in the presence of The Balladeer, his cold expression having no effect on your heart. “Are you not happy that I am finally fulfilling my purpose for being created? I have my heart, and I will use my newfound strength… to rule over the insects of this world that grovel beneath me.” He stopped in front of you, dark lavender eyes gazing directly into your eyes that were unfortunately cast downwards. You knew he was looking, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, remaining silent instead. This only seemed to anger The Balladeer more. “What’s troubling you? Is there something you dislike about the design? I will have it changed if that is what you want.”

“…What I want, Lord Scaramouche?” The tremble in your voice was evident, there was no hiding anymore exactly how you felt in that moment. The upcoming god could easily pick up on your changed emotions, suddenly becoming stricken with anxiety. “I… I want you back.” It was plain and simple as that. Your first meeting with The Balladeer was nothing short of fate. It was a cold day In Snezhnaya, your village near the Fatui headquarters always patrolled and watched closely. Remembering how the cold snow felt on your bare feet would forever be ingrained in your brain from that day, along with finding The Balladeer practically frozen near a river. He was welcomed into your home for 3 days, secluded due to the raging blizzard that always took the lives of any who dared challenge its icy wind laced touch. “You’re… You’re changing. You’re starting to leave me behind. You… replaced me already.”

“Huh?” His cold tone only fueled the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, still recalling his harsh yet gentle nature as he resided in your home. He voiced his displeasure almost every minute, but he made no effort to walk out and take his chances with the vengeful blizzard. You learned a lot about him during those 3 short days. How he enjoyed bitter tea and despised anything sweet you had to offer him for dessert. The immense sorrow that lingered in his empty chest as he gazed over the stuffed animal in the house. The way he would become engrossed in reading about blade forgery, almost as if he had known about the art for centuries. And lastly, how much the all-powerful Fatui Harbinger detested insects. “What nonsense are you going on about? When did I ever give you the impression, I was every going to let you escape?”

“Just look at what you’re doing, Lord Scaramouche… you’re… ascending far beyond my reach anymore. It’s not a matter of trying to escape from you… you’re just starting to abandon me.” His breath hitched once those words left your soft lips. Never in his life did he ever think you would be saying those words to him. It was anticipated to be the other way around, but the tables had turned now. “You… praise Ms. Haypasia more than you do me…” That wasn’t true. Not to him anyways. You and that other human were completely different. She was just a mere follower, disposable, you were supposed to be by his side forever. “Even the way you look at this thing-“ You turned your head to look up at the machine that hung above. “-as if it’s your everything now. Your time with me has shortened, and the attention you once gave me has dwindled into but a small insignificant grain of dust… The gnosis, this machine… it’s your heart… I wished for you to gaze at me like that… I wished for you to stay with me until the world takes me… I wanted to be your heart.”

“No… that’s- that’s absurd!” His voice wavered just slightly, hands reaching out to grasp your arms, holding you tightly in his grasps. “You… You-“ The words kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to voice his conflicting emotions. After a few seconds of pondering for the right words, the thought died within his throat, choosing to remain silent. “I wish you… all the best, Lord Scaramouche. I’ll never forget my time with you. You will be in my thoughts always… and I’ll worship you until the day I die… I love you.” His breath caught in his throat hearing those words pass from your lips so carelessly. Throwing that phase out to him as if you weren’t about to leave him alone. His body was stiff when you suddenly placed your hands onto his cheeks, the feeling of your warm hands stunning him further. Your face was so close to his, he could feel your nervous breaths, almost hear your heartbeat hammering away at your ribcage. Your lips were soft against his own, moving gently against him even though he showed no sign of returning your affections.

Once you were gone from his touch, the world came crashing.

“You can’t leave. I forbid it.” You only gave him a sad smile, moving your hands off his cheeks. The attempt was quickly stopped by the harbingers intense grip slamming down onto your wrists to stop you. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. You are not allowed to leave my side.” His head was lowered, making it impossible for you to gaze into his dark lavender eyes and gauge exactly what he was feeling at this moment. You had an idea of what it was just by the way his hands trembled while holding you. “Lord Scaramouche, I hope you know I’m not betraying you like the others.” The grip he had on you tightened, his shoulders now trembling, still unable to gauge his emotions. You knew of his history as a puppet, and as the almighty electro archons creation. “I’m letting you go to achieve your purpose you’ve longed for. I won’t keep you grounded any longer. You’ve been through so much; you deserve this opportunity- “

“Then come with me! Let us both ascend together into godhood! Become my goddess. Rule by my side and stay!” The hurt in his voice was now clearer than ever. He was deeply troubled by your decision. To think you would ever consider leaving him drove him mad. All because of your selfless intentions not to hold him back? How absurd! Ever since he began seeing you more and more, he knew he could never let you go. That first kiss sealed his fate with you years ago. “L-Lord Sc-“ He lunged his hand forward to grab your mouth tightly, suppressing any words from coming out as he spoke. “You will be my goddess, whether you like it or not. We will become equals. Do not address me in that way again, or I will have to punish you.” Nodding quickly, your shaky fingers attempted to pry his tight grip off your mouth, slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst. A dark chuckle echoed in your ears when his lips came close to your ear. “Good… now there’s something I must take in order to properly claim you as my goddess. Something… I’ve wanted to do with you for so long.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips moved in slow motion in front of you.

“Your body.”

The sounds of machines in the background suddenly become more and more fuzzy as his demand came crashing onto your mind like a dozen bricks. The thrashing of your heart against your ribcage became more violent the more you imagined becoming one with Scaramouche. The relationship between you remained pure and innocent for a long time. The only thing you had ever done with him was hug him or give him a kiss on the head here and there and on very rare occasions give him a real kiss. To excel to something as serious as that? It was all too much for you to handle. You loved him. As much as you didn’t want to in the beginning you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Fatui Harbinger. Through his harsh acts and mean words, all he had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted. His walls broke when you indulged in his buried human desires.

“Kissing won’t be enough for me anymore. Once I finish claiming you… you will permanently be mine, to rule by my side forever, never to part from me. Doesn’t that sound nice? Bound to your god through body and soul. Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?” His questions were making your head spin. He knew the answers to his own questions though, it was all a means to influence you further. You didn’t need to respond to tell him how much you longed to be by his side. “It was idiotic to think you could simply leave after all we’ve been through. Even if you wanted to without such a selfishly selfless reason such as that…” His voice trailed off, slowly letting go of your mouth and replacing his cold hand against your neck, squeezing lightly. “Listen close, I will not repeat this.” He called, leaning towards your ear. His breath was hot despite his body being frigid. You shifted in his grasp, swallowed thickly before he spoke. “I love you too.”

“S…Scaramouche?” Your voice was soft and almost like a faint whisper whisked about by the clattering noise around you. That was the first time he had ever admitted such feelings towards you. His cheeks were a soft pink, scowling at you and himself in disgust over his emotionally human confession. He didn’t give you another second to speak or breathe before he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, you melted into his touch, your shaky uncertain hands coming to rest against his cold cheeks, nimble fingers edging closer and closer to his indigo locks. His hair was incredibly soft, so perfect to run your fingers through and pull. His hands came to your waist, pulling your lower body against his. His tongue slipped, parting your lips to rub against your teeth, ordering you to open your mouth for him. You obeyed him, letting him completely consume you. “M-Mmm… Scara-Mph!”

One of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling your head back until he was holding you against him, leaning you back to appropriately dominate you. Your arms wrapped around his neck quickly, scared of falling but knew he would never let you go. His tongue darted inside your mouth, swirling around your mouth in needy passion. His teeth clanked against yours as he pushed himself deeper, his tongue reaching the deepest parts of your mouth. Precious oxygen was beginning to become necessary, but you didn’t want to pull away from his blissful and loving touches. A low groan echoed into your mouth being swallowed by your small gasp of air before he closed you off again with his lips. You could feel yourself beginning to get weak in your knees, slowly falling to the floor while Scaramouche kept you close to him. He parted from you finally, a string of saliva connecting your tongues until he licked it away and swiped his tongue over his lips.

“Already weak from one kiss? Hah, how pathetic you truly are. It’s a nuisance that you’re human, that’ll change in due time if you’re going to be my goddess.” You didn’t understand what he had meant by those words, but you did know that your remaining strength dropped once he gazed into your eyes with a powerful, dominating lust. God were his eyes just hypnotizing. His gaze followed to all the workers in the large area, irking him further as he realized he had been too distracted by you. “Hey! All you pests! Get out!” His voice was booming and loud, his tone laced with toxic authority that should not be dared challenged. The workers all looked confused and exchanged glances, further angering the ascending god. “Are you all deaf? I said, get the fuck out!” The workers scurried away in fear, leaving all their tools, and exiting the area. He turned back towards you, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Come, my goddess.”

“Y…Yes, Scaramouche.” You shakily rose, clambering into his arms as he drug you up into the chamber of the machines head. It was sparkling red, its contents almost like you were floating into space. He swished his hand out, the machine face closing behind you, trapping you inside with the godly creation of an archon. As soon as those doors were closed, his lips were on yours again, this time more desperate and needy. His hands were trailing up and down your body, exploring his inexperienced hands over every curve and crevice that your body hid. A sigh left his lips into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of how soft and smooth your breasts were. “Tsk. Childe is always chattering about how pleasant these feel… damn idiot was right about one thing for once.”

His hands continued to knead and squeeze your breasts, getting rougher each second hearing your soft sighs of pleasure. “Yeah? You like that don’t you? So filthy.” His lips curled and arched into a grin, his perfect teeth showing just how amused he was at how much you were loving his touch. It gave him a confidence boost. Truth be told he’d never done anything like this either, only read about from human books or got lectured about it from Childe or La Signora. “Yes, Scaramouche… it… it feels good.” He gave a raspy laugh, narrowing his eyes as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you could only focus solely on the way his hands kneaded you. He took this invitation and leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin before sinking his teeth into you. He pushed you back against one of the walls, one hand slamming against it while his other continued to squeeze and grope. “Mmm! Wait-! Ngh…”

“No one gave you permission to talk back to your god. So hush, and be a good girl for me. Even your fragile body can do so much as that can’t it?” His voice was low and husky, his tongue slowly moving over the indentions in your flesh made by his teeth. A shiver slipped through your spine at the cool feeling of his salvia colliding with the cool air, your back arching into his greedy hands. Both his hands came and started to tear at your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in your ears that made your heart rate increase. He fumbled with the clothing that didn’t come off right away and yanked it off you, tugging and pushing your body to and from him. Once your shirt was completely off, he started to wander his eyes up and down your body, his cheeks a soft pink as his virgin eyes soaked in every bit of your untouched, pure skin. “Wow… if I had known that your body was this beautiful, I would’ve taken you for myself a long time ago. Haha, not as if I would let you go to begin with.”

“S-Scara… s-stop staring please, it’s embarrassing…” Your head turned to the side, squeezing your eyes closed trying not to focus on his hard gaze over your half-naked form. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist tightly and leaning forward to aggressively kiss and bite your neck. “There you go again, ordering me around. Must I put you in your place the hard way?” He took a firm step forward, trapping you completely against his chest and the wall. You could only pant in response, whimpering in embarrassment as you urged your hands not to cover yourself. His head craned down, his eyes now intently staring at the gorgeous sight of your cleavage, fleshly mounds almost falling out of your bra from how they were pushed against his chest. “Let’s take this off and see the real thing, shall we?”

“O-Okay…” You pushed forward a bit, leaning into Scaramouche while his cool fingers traced up your back to find the clasps of your bra. His nimble fingers fumbled slightly, cursing under his breath trying to get the damn thing unclasped. Once he finally got the clasp undone, he pulled the back forwards, the straps adorning your shoulders becoming loose. “Shaking already? I’ve barely touched you yet.” You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until he made it known to your flushed ears. You were incredibly nervous. “There’s no need to worry so much, my dear goddess.” His hands wandered up your arms, lightly grasping the straps before pulling them down and letting your bra drop to the floor. Your hands twitched harshly upon feeling bare in front of him, the urge to cover up becoming increasingly more prominent. “Your god will take real good care of you. I’ll make sure you feel the best you ever have in your entire pathetic mortal life.”

“Y…Yes, sir.” You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks instantly flushing realizing he was staring intently at you. The deep pits of his irises lulled you in to fall deeper into the endless hole of desire and love. His eyes lowered to your bare chest, his own smooth cheeks becoming pink in surprise and embarrassment. He was starstruck. The beautiful curves and swells of your breasts were mesmerizing to him, and let’s not skip over the fact your nipples were cute and erected for him. He tested the waters of this new experience, pinching your nipple between his index and thumb, awaiting your response. A whimper fell upon his mechanical ears, his body urging him to do more for you. His fingers rolled the erect bud, causing your body to arch into his touch, a quiet moan resonating from your swollen lips. He groaned lowly at the noise. “Fuck… that’s hot. Give me more. Submit yourself to me, completely.”

His lustful actions continued, rolling and pinching your nipples while his eyes stared Intensely at your expressions, watching each and every twitch and wince of pleasure. He quickly found himself now addicted to making you feel good. Your sweet noises caused by his hands was such a turn on for him. Once he was done with your chest, he moved down to your hips, rubbing your hips soothingly before hooking his slender fingers around your panties and pants and pulled them down swiftly. A harsh shake shuddered through your body feeling more exposed before him. Of course, you’d never done anything like this before. It was all so embarrassing. For Scaramouche, it was all new and exciting. Seeing your voluptuous body on display for him, completely bare and vulnerable for him to pray on.

“You look so humiliating standing here, shaking before me. It looks as if your legs are about to give up on you.” He mused, lips curling into a sly and cocky smile watching you quiver beneath him. His dark lavender eyes trailed up and down your body, quietly admiring all your natural beauty. He couldn’t help but stare down at your nether regions, accented by tufts of swift curls. His hand came slowly, his slender fingers running over your upper thigh slowly. Your back arched in his cool touch, lip catching between your teeth trying not to cover up or run away from him. The thin digits of his hand slid across your thigh to run his finger down the middle of your folds, feeling the lewd slick that had started to gather and threaten to drip onto the floor. “It’s all wet and slippery down here. How lewd of you. Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are a dirty girl after all, hmm?”

“N-No… It’s… it’s because of you.” His eyes glimmered with lust hearing your confession, body involuntarily shuddering. He could feel a faint pulse in his shorts. It was at that moment he secretly thanked his creator for at least one damn thing. A dick to give you a nice, good fucking with (she really just wanted him to look as real as possible). The puppet grinned watching your shy eyes shift to meet his in a long and loving gaze, tainted with hints of lust. He leaned forward slowly not to startle you and captured your lips in an oddly soft and passionate kiss. Your body instinctively relaxed upon feeling his embrace, allowing him to slip his fingers up and inside. Your back arched into him, suddenly becoming tense and breaking the passionate kiss your lover initiated. “Ngh… f-feels weird, Scara…”

“Y-Yeah, it’s fucking tight.” His once confident voice was wavering as his finger was clenched tight by your hot gummy walls. The puppet experimented with his finger as he moved it around, feeling your cunt’s curvy walls and tight squeeze. “S-Scaramouche… Hmm.” He watched your expression closely before he added a second finger. You gave a pitiful cry of discomfort upon his second finger being added. His body shuddered, hips bucking forwards desperate to feel something, it was beginning to get painful. He used his non occupied hand and shyly placed your hand against the bulge poking out from under the metal plate that guarded his hips. The ascending god shuddered in ecstasy upon the light contact, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“Mmm, Scara, I-it’s so… so hard.” A quiet mewl left your lips when your hand hesitantly started to rub and squeeze against the tip of his cock. Scaramouche moaned lowly against your face, a flurry of curses leaving his lips once you got more confident with him. If you were to get confident with him why not he do the same? He started thrusting his fingers into your core, his slender digits reaching deeper and deeper with every movement. You both were moaning into each other’s face, your hot breaths adding fuel to the already out of control fire of desire. “Fuck I need this. I need you.” Your lover pulled his fingers out, admiring the lewd fluid on his digits. You gasped once his fingers left, your cunt squeezing at nothing, disappointed at the loss of his fingers. A harsh clank echoed in the red sparkling space around you as Scaramouche removed the metal plate adorning his hips. “Strip me. Use your pretty shaking fingers and take off everything.”

His word was law. You began running your fingers over his chest, carefully removing the electro symbol that usually gleamed in the light against his chest. You stripped him carefully until all that was left was his shorts. The bulge was clearly now present, showing you just how big it was. His skin was so smooth without blemish or scar or scrape. His complexion was utterly perfect. He was crafted for godly hood after all. “Well? Go on. Take ‘em off. I did tell you everything didn’t I? Or is your head to far in the clouds to even comprehend your god’s order?” You shook your head before you carefully slid down the shorts that adorning Scaramouche’s thin hips. The harsh thumping of your heart echoed within your ears meeting his erect member, standing tall and proud. Your eyes shifted up to him, blushing more seeing how red his face was too. “Scara-“

“Shut up and turn around.” He roughly turned you around and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass back against his hard erection. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth feeling the touch of his length against you. His hands wandered up your back to carefully grab your hair, pulling your head back to place kisses against your shoulder and neck. “Are you ready for the main event? To become my goddess and rule by my side? Tell me.” He pulled a little harder, his voice attempting to sound dominant and hungry but only coming out as desperate and a bit nervous. A faint affirmation left your tongue, leaving the godly puppet to hastily locate your entrance with the tip of his engorged cock. “Good girl.” The tenderness of his lip caught between his teeth once he found it, slowly pushing it in before looking up to watch your reactions.

A wince escaped onto your expression, the stretch of his length in your inexperienced hole becoming overwhelming. His eyes continued to watch you closely, his grip on your hair loosening when he dropped his hand down to your hip. He could see the way your jaw clenched, the way your eyes scrunched, and it sent a flurry of panicked thoughts through his mind. He never intended to hurt you. He had heard this was supposed to be a pleasurable act, something that would deepen your relationship and make it nearly impossible for you to leave. Even though the puppet had lived through centuries, he was still a bit naive. His hips halted, hands lightly caressing you in fear that you might pull away from him.

“Hey… If you’re in pain say so. Don’t be a stubborn brat.” You shook your head and turned to gaze lovingly into his eyes with a smile. His face bloomed in a light shade of red. “P-Please continue, Scaramouche. I want you too.” He gave you a glare, tender lips turning into a deep frown out of embarrassment of your actions. He leaned forward to kiss you again, his body urging him to seal his lustful acts with a loving kiss to solidify your bond to him. He pushed his hips up until his groin was flush against the plushness of your butt. A whine of pain came to his ears, only pushing him to please you more with his lips. The tight squeeze of your velvety walls had his mind clouded in ecstasy. The temptation to begin bucking his hips into you at a ruthless pace becoming all the more irresistible. “Scara-“

“I know. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Your lips came back to his, your mouth open to allow his tongue to mark and claim you once more. You could feel him slowly pulling his length out, making you feel empty inside before he suddenly thrust his hips back inside. A quiet cry of pain fused with pleasure echoed from your throat, your lover grunting in response to the tight squeeze around his length. Your fragile mind couldn’t choose what it wanted to focus on. The way Scaramouche’s tongue easily pulls you into him or the possessive way he begins to buck his hips to push his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy. It was all so overwhelming you couldn’t help but mindlessly moan and sigh at each thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue.

“That’s it, hah, good girl.” The praise of your god sent goosebumps down your spine, the urge to gaze into eyes while he claims you urging you to attempt to turn around. He stops you quickly and pushes your shoulder harshly to keep your face away from seeing him. “Stop moving and -ngh- just enjoy what I’m giving you, hah.” Truth was he didn’t want you to see what kind of expression he was making. His brows were furrowed, cheeks a lovely shade of pink with heavy pants coming from his swollen lips. He himself was beginning to get lost in the tender squeeze of your cunt around his cock. He had never experienced something that felt so good, he would definitely find himself getting addicted to this feeling. “P-Please -mm!- wanna see you, Scara.”

“Tsk! Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Before you knew it, an empty feeling engulfed you before you were spun around and shoved up against the wall by your lover. He lips met yours harshly before he sheathed himself back inside, almost knocking the air out of you at the sudden action. He ruthlessly thrust his hips against yours, lewd noises coming from below you as your sexes collided again and again. A musky smell enveloped the small space of the crimson galaxy that surrounded. The sound of your sweet moans filled the former Fatui Harbinger’s ears, spurring him to become rougher and more possessive in his actions of love making. The feeling of the mushy head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix sent you spiraling into the depths of lust.

“Feels good, Scara, ahhh, feels so good.” Your lover’s indigo hair brushed over your forehead as he pressed against you, his deep lavender eyes burning holes into your soul from his heated, obsessive gaze. Scaramouche sighed in bliss against your face, his indigos brows furrowing while he continued to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it feels fucking ama- ngh!- amazing! You like it don’t you? Shit… like when your god makes you good like this? Yeah? Huh? Hah, hah, answer me!” Lust dripped off every word of his sharp tongue. You could only cry a feeble ‘yes’ with a meek call of his name. The lewdly wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours increased, your walls becoming tighter around his pulsing cock. “S-Scara! Hmm! Wait! Something- Somethings coming! P-Pull out!”

“Come undone for me. Ngh, yes, yes- damnit!” His thrusts began to become sloppy and mismanaged, hot and heavy pants coming out of your sexy lover. Your hands raked down his back, clawing at his skin for something to cling onto while a tight feeling began to build in your lower abdomen. Scaramouche’s hands pressed your hips against the wall, ramming his cock as deep as he could, holding you in place. His face buried into your neck, moaning uncontrollably as he neared his sweet release. “Scara, Scaramouche, p-please! Hmm!! Can’t hold it! It’s co- Ahh!” Your warning for him was cut off by a loud moan as you felt the previous buildup of pleasure snap in your abdomen. Scaramouche felt your walls tighten around him and your climax splattering onto his groin.

“Fuck!” His head fell to your chest, letting out a loud moan before giving one firm and harsh thrust inside before he could feel his length twitching, releasing all his sticky seed inside you, overflowing to the point it started to come out of your connected sexes. You both were panting heavily, holding each other tightly as you attempted to calm down from the immense emotions and feelings you both had undergone. A wave of drowsiness washed over your form, your legs numb and heavy, eyelids becoming droopy. “S-…Scara?” The god lifted his head to gaze at your tired expression. A quiet huff slipped through his nostrils as he carefully pulled out of you, a mixture of your sinful fluids splattering to the floor. You let out a soft whine at the empty yet full feeling down there. Scaramouche held you tight, supporting you and your weak state to sit against the floor, pulling some of your clothes over to cover you up. “Tsk… look how weak you’ve become after just one round. We’ll have to change that.”

“You’ve… done this before?” The pure look of disgust on his face let you know that that was not the case. He gave you a soft glare, flicking your head at your stupid accusation. “Are you stupid? No. Reading and having to babysit Childe and listen to his bratty bantering taught me more than I cared to know… but I guess it came useful after all.” You gave a sleepy smile and a small laugh, laying your head into his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Out of all the horrible things Scaramouche has done, you knew deep down that he would never even imagine hurting you. He would always protect you. “Sorry… and I’m sorry about the things I said… I just… want what is best for you, Scaramouche. You truly do deserve the best.” There was a comfortable silence that followed your apology, your lover contemplating how he should respond.

“…you really are stupid, you know that?” He gave a frustrated and annoyed sigh and pulled you closer to his thin frame, embracing you with a flustered blush on his cheeks. A soft hum came from your place on his chest, your body slowly succumbing to your drowsiness, but not before you proclaimed your love one last time. “Thank you… Scara. I love… you…” Once Scaramouche could hear your soft breathing and faint snoring, he gave a quiet sigh and lifted his gaze up to the crimson galaxy of the mechanical mask you both were confined in. He felt like his chest was about to burst open, body on fire, lips twitching uncontrollably as he held back a gentle smile, something he wished to show you. One day… when the entire world is at his feet, and the people of Teyvat worshipped only him, he would show you that gentle side of himself. When he knew it was safe.

“I… love you too, stupid idiot.”

“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

-Scaramouche

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Doughnuts ?

A/N: I hope you all love this as much as I love Colt ! P.S. don't ask me how many times i watched this movie its distrubing

Colt Seavers X Reader

Working on a movie set had a been dream of yours for as long as you can remeber. The magic of seeing the big lights and the movie stars.

You always loved working on projects from the time you can remember.

Writting and directing and seeing your own magic come to life was always a dream come true.

Most people told you to dream releastic and stick something that would be more achievable.

But you didn't listen sitting at home doing a boring 9-5 was the not the life you wanted for yourself.

You went to film school out in LA and it was the most you ever felt alive. You finally felt like you belonged here.

When you graduated you thought you were going to immediately jump into work. I mean you were the next big thing right? Well that dream came crashing down. Reality set in and bills needed to be paid.

So when the oppurtinity came up for you to work as a camera operator for a movie you took it right away

. I mean you were going to be still working on the magic right ?

A couple of months in and you were finding your groove everyone on set was incredibly kind and welcoming.

There was one particular guy who was nice to you.

Colt Seavers was a incredible stunt man. Can we just also say for the love of god how incredibly hot he was.

I mean how was he not a movie star himself.

God took a little extra time with him. But the nice thing about him though was he didn't have a ego to match. To your surprise was he kind and nice and funny.

One day you were sitting eating lunch alone and he came and sat down next to you.

"Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't be eating alone" Colt said as he thew about 3 plates of food down.

"You really gonna eat all that" You said laughing

"Hey your brain needs carbs to live how else can i be set on fire without nothing on my stomach" Colt said laughing

Like what ever he said made sense. The two of you just sat and talked in for a while and he made you feel like you knew him forever.

He was funny like he was honesly geniunely hilarious.

The two of you talked about dream vacations and how being set on fire was nothing compared to when they stopped making his favoriate brand of coffee beans.

When lunch was over he asked for your number. He said he wanted to be a gentleman and drive you home because it was dangerous out there.

The work day seemed like it was never ending after that. The annoying ass director just wanted another take after another one.

You were about to just sit the camera down in protest and leave but thank god this was the last scene.

You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone. You just put your stuff away and grabbed your things.

You were sitting in the parking lot next to your car.

A few minutes had passed and you were worried you got stood up. You were about to get back into your car so you didn't look like an idiot.

Just as you were pulling out your keys. A huge truck blaring Taylor Swift pulled up next to you.

"You didn't think I forgot did you" Colt said smiling.

You smiled back and hoped into the truck

"A man with taste" You said

He pulled away and the windows were down and the music was blaring. He drove to an empty parking lot down the street and you gave him a confused look.

"Doughnuts" He asked

"I love Jelly" You said making him laugh loud

"A breakfast date when were done I love it" Colt said

"I know a good spot" You said.

Colt postioned the car and then looked over at you with a smirk and then took off fast.

It caught your breath fast and you felt your heart dropping into its stomach. Colt stretched out his arm and nodged you over closer to him.

It really did make you forget about your troubles. Like everything else didn't matter in this moment. You felt like when you were on a rollcoaster and you reached the top.

then when you shot done that rush of adrenline was amazing.

You could do this all night with him.

"Same time again tomorrow" Colt said

"It's a date after real doughnuts" You said

"Carbs make everything better" Colt said

You leaned in and laid your head on his shoulder and he smiled down at you. The real magic wasn't on the movie set it was right here with the two of you

[livwritesstuff]

heyo! loving the steddie dads. was wondering if either of them suffer from nightmares or ptsd after everything they've been through? and how they might deal with that on a day-to-day/anniversary basis.

Hi friend -- took some time on this one because this is a Topic for me.

Short answer – yes, 100%. I don’t think any person on the planet could experience that kind of thing and not come out of it with some serious issues to work through. 

Longer answer, and not to abuse my psych degree, but it’s really tough to say how they would be affected 10, 20, 30, etc. years down the line because PTSD and trauma are both so unbelievably complex – for many reasons, but in part because PTSD can do two things (sort of) simultaneously.

Wane over time

Completely and permanently alter the “wires” (neural pathways) in your brain

I think that there’s sometimes this perception in the ST fandom that every character in the show who experienced a trauma would have PTSD by default, but that might not necessarily be true. Stats actually show that the majority of people who experience trauma in some capacity will in fact not display PTSD symptoms. I think Mike and Dustin at the onset of season 2 are a fantastic example of how two people can go through the same events together and come out of it affected very differently.

(Sidebar: I think Stranger Things has a fantastic opportunity to show how varied the effects of trauma can be. Granted, I don’t think that’s the story they’re telling, but they totally could.)

Experiencing a traumatic event is not necessarily a one-way ticket to PTSD symptoms and/or a PTSD diagnosis – to be clear, this doesn’t mean that there are not lasting negative effects from that traumatic event, but it is still distinctly different from PTSD (in its official definition) – and right now it’s not clear why this is the case. 

I have individual thoughts about each character as it relates to what they specifically experience and how I think they would be affected by it long and short-term, HOWEVER I also recognize that I haven’t answered your actual question, so I digress.

Rather than dive into whether or not I think Steve and/or Eddie have PTSD, we’re just gonna call it capital-T Trauma and move along. You’re welcome.

Anyways, by the time Steve and Eddie (as they exist in this ‘verse) are in their fifties, I doubt that any residual effects of their Trauma would still be anywhere near debilitating. Generally speaking, they can go about their day-to-day lives without thinking about what they went through all that much.

I do think that those effects may temporarily worsen around anniversaries, but even that really isn’t all that noticeable by the time they hit the 2020s.

They’ll still occasionally have nightmares and I don’t think Steve ever fully lets himself believe that it’s truly done in a way that Eddie doesn’t relate to because he never had to experience what it’s like for it all to come back.

(Small potatoes, but I also don’t think Steve could ever own a dog no matter how much his daughters campaigned for a puppy when they were in elementary school).

I think the Trauma that Steve experienced shows itself in his adulthood when it comes down to raising kids. 

I’ve talked before about how Steve has a moment when Moe turns ten where it kind of clicks for the first time just how young Erica had been when he allowed her to get caught up in everything. He hadn’t been able to see it until he was a fully-fledged adult raising a ten-year-old, but he gets really hung up on it, and then he spends the next few years being like – Moe’s eleven, that’s how old Eleven was when she broke out of the lab; she’s twelve, that’s how old Will was when he got stuck in the Upside Down; she’s thirteen, that’s how old Dustin was when he almost got eaten by demobats in those tunnels. 

Then the girls start hitting their high school years and Steve starts realizing – oh, it wasn’t just the younger ones. I was also a kid still and put in a really fucked up position. It’s the thing that makes him truly see how few adults he had in his corner.

Eddie has a similar moment when Moe graduates high school and he realizes that his oldest daughter is as old as Chrissy ever got to be.

That being said I also don’t think Eddie gets as torn up over Chrissy as the popular opinion suggests but i’m a little afraid to voice that one lol

I definitely think Eddie and Steve never let themselves forget how Max, Chrissy, Patrick, etc. were vulnerable to Vecna’s curse because of a very specific circumstance – they were grappling with something internally that they didn’t feel they had the resources or people they trusted enough to address outwardly. Sure, they know that their kids aren’t at risk of being possessed and murdered by an evil monster, but the notion of bad things happening when people don’t have the support that they need is a very real phenomenon with very real consequences. By no means was that exclusive to Hawkins and it certainly didn’t go away with the Upside Down. 

I think that this becomes the crux of Steve and Eddie’s mentality behind parenthood – to make sure that their kids never feel like they can’t go to their dads for support, to never allow their children to be in a position where they have to suffer in silence. That, to me, is absolutely rooted in the parts of their Trauma that re-wired their brains irreparably.

Anyhooooo this is really just the tip of the iceberg imo but this is long enough already lol (but if anyone wants to hear more about the Stranger Things-Trauma paradigm, let me know because I could probably talk about it for hours).

[cyanide-capsules]

Alex Keller was a very open man, or at least that's how he came off.

He was friendly, wide-eyed, the kind of guy you feel like you've known all your life. He seemed to naturally click with everyone he spoke with, including the 141.

Simon Riley was the opposite of him, he was a skeptic. Closed off, suspicious of those he didn't know. This was no different with Alex than anyone else, but there was something about the bright eyed American that made Simon's brain tick.

He didn't know exactly why he felt more on edge around Alex than other new people he met, and he wouldn't understand why until he overheard a conversation between Alex and Gaz.

"Alex man, can you keep a secret?"

Alex laughed. "Do you even know when my birthday is?"

Gaz laughed along, but something seemed to click with Simon.

He knew.. Nothing about Alex.

His middle name, his birthday, where he grew up, his favorite colour, nothing.

That's why he had been so off-put by him, the man was a complete mystery. A mystery that nobody even considered solving because Alex just naturally came off as an open book.

He didn't know what to think from then on, he tried to dig up what he could on Alex but knew he wouldn't find much without the assistance of Laswell.

He spent weeks avoiding the American, narrowing his eyes at him when he was in his vicinity, completely unaware that the two of them shared such similarities.

Two enigmas, one much more obvious than the other.

It wasn't until some random Wednesday night, nobody awake but the stars. Simon stumbled upon Alex just outside the bases front door, a lit cigarette nursed between his fingers.

He wanted to ignore him, go back to bed, but he found himself stepping outside with the other.

Alex acknowledged him with a smile and a nod, but didn't speak. Simon stared at him, not bothering to hide the fact that he was searching for answers in the other man's warm gaze.

There was a thick silence between them, it wasn't uncomfortable but, it was far from comfortable at the same time.

Alex broke it first.

"I take you're not a fan of me?"

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. An observation Simon couldn't say he expected. His eyes didn't leave the American, watching closely as he took a drag off the cigarette. He didn't know Alex smoked but, then again, what did he know about Alex?

That's the entire reason he was here.

"Don't trust what I don't know."

Simon finally replied, though by now it was more of a statement on its own than an actual response to his comment.

Alex shrugged, he didn't seem at all bothered by Simon's reply. Silence spread between them once more, Simon didn't like Alex's lack of response.

"You're ex-CIA, that's all anyone knows about you. Nobody knows anything about you, but they trust you."

Simon continued, he wanted answers, he wanted a reason to trust the other man. Alex was quiet, tapping the ash from his cigarette before he replied.

"What was that saying? Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?"

In any other moment, Simon would have been offended by the comparison. But, Alex was right.

They were, almost scarily similar in every aspect but their personalities.

Silence again. It was more welcome this time around. Simon always appreciated the quiet when he needed to think.

The silence didn't last too long this time, Alex spoke up again.

"Humor me, do you ever forget that you're a person and not just a soldier?"

That question alone haunted him for days, Simon now felt uncomfortably aware of Alex.

The way the americans grin always seemed to falter ever so slightly when he held it, how his gaze would fog over at the scent of smoke or when it got too quiet, how his prosthetic always seemed to be moving in some way or another.

He was aware now, aware of the similarities they shared.

Aware of how, just like him, Alex was a soldier before he was a man.

[moonlits-ocean]

Long Way Home [Part IX]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 7 here.

Read Part 2 here. Read Part 8 here.

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here.

Read Part 5 here.

Read Part 6 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part IX

The heavy rains continued for a couple days more before stopping. It was impossible for Azriel to visit at the time, but I began to grow anxious when I didn't see him even after the weather turned clear. 

I caught myself waiting, looking outside my windows as I continued with my day. It was an agony, and I didn't know what else to do. Had he given up? Was he wounded? I grew more worried, and after a week passed by with no sign of him, I decided to visit Velaris in person and check. 

The following morning, I woke up early to have a quick breakfast and then pack an overnight bag. I was in the middle of washing the dishes when there was a knock on the front door. 

Abandoning my task, I ran to the foyer, drying my hands with a dishcloth and anticipating Azriel's face. 

My face fell when I saw Rhysand, Cassian, and my father framed by the open doorway. I immediately schooled my expression, mentally chastising myself for being so excited. They were wearing somber expressions as I led them to the living room. I felt my heart thumping in panic as I asked them for refreshments and they declined. What could possibly have happened that they came all the way here instead of Azriel?

We all sat down, and I couldn't stop bouncing my knee as Rhys and Cassian took in the villa. 

My father was the first to speak. "Azriel's taken ill."

I couldn't stop the concerning expression that plainly showed only face. I was in love with Azriel, after all. "Is he wounded?"

He shook his head. "It's a fever, headache and stomachache. He should've been healed by now. But—"

Rhys took the rest of the explanation. "But he's not eating or drinking anything. Any medicine that your father tries to give him he rejects it. He's become delirious, confined to bed and keeps saying your name all the time. Everyone of us have tried coaxing him to have something. He's just not listening. We don't know what to do."

Cassian's voice had lost its usual liveliness. "We know that he has hurt you. But please, I beg you, come back and treat him. Save our brother. He'll really die from a simple fever at this rate."

I swallowed, my eyes filling with tears. Our mating bond had a weak pulse, and now I knew the reason. Azriel...

I had been hurt, but I wasn't heartless. And maybe, it was now the time to move on and let him in. 

"Bring him here, I'll nurse him back to health."

Relief was visible on their faces, Rhys and Cassian engulfed me in a group hug before immediately taking off to winnow their brother here. Father lingered back, and he gave me instructions on the medicine and food to prepare after which he too, had to leave. He had patients waiting in the city. 

He left after engulfing me in another hug and told me that he loved me. 

I took a few moments to steady myself. Then I started on the preparations as per the instructions, anticipating Azriel's arrival. 

My mate's arrival. The words put a smile only face, despite it all. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006 @fightmedraco @lees-chaotic-brain @thesunloveschips

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 10 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

[suzy-queued]

DVD Commentary: Out of Nowhere

I got a request from @doshiart for behind-the-scenes commentary from Out of Nowhere. @shamelessdvdcommentary

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) 86,511 words, 15-chapters. I wrote it between November 2022 - January 2024.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I love murder ballads. I love graphic novels. So when I saw the book In the Pines at my local library, I snatched it up. This book takes old murder ballads and turns them into short stories, told in graphic format. My favorite one was "Where the Wild Roses Grow," based on the Nick Cave song.

I took some very loose elements from this story: A secluded property, a guy escaping from prison, a person protecting their family's gold. The prisoner wooing the gold protector in order to get close enough to rob them. Doesn't that scream Gallavich?

In the murder ballad there's, well, murder. The prisoner dies by the end. Boy, was I tempted to do that in my story.

What was your favorite scene to write? In each story, there's a scene that pops in my head early on that I base the whole setup around. It's the one that I'm gleefully waiting to write. For this story, it was the "cleaning guns" scene in chapter 7, when the sexual tension is high and Ian tantalizes Mickey as he works.

How did you come up with the title? My favorite murder ballad of all time is "El Paso" by Marty Robbins. There's a line in that song, "From out of nowhere, Felina has found me."

The placeholder title was "Gallagher Gold."

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I made this note early on: "Ian has a high PHYSICAL IQ. Mickey has a high VISUAL IQ." I used that to make character decisions throughout. Ian was good with his body and his posture. He was good at carrying things and balancing things, climbing and shooting. Mickey was obsessive about patterns and puzzles and solving challenges.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? Chapter 13, oh my god. That's the hardest thing I've ever written. I was dreading it for months. It's a tense culmination of everything the story has been building to: love, betrayal, physical and emotional pain. The land gets torn up, and so does their relationship. I overcame it by taking lots of deep breaths and writing small chunks every day. I made sure that every sentence was exactly what I wanted to convey, without letting the prose take its own (lazier) path.

Favorite line in the story? “I’m not a fucking Viper.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? When I started this story, I was sure that I didn't want to do another long multi-chap fic. I outlined it as a 5-chapter short, maybe 30,000 words. Then the "what if" whispers started happening, and it grew to a full 15-chapter outline. Most of the chapters had very short descriptions. One was just "fun and games on the land." One was just "This wasn’t supposed to happen, Gallagher."

Other possible settings included: an abandoned church with a small cemetery, and old hospital, a forgotten amusement park. I wrote "somewhere old-timey that would have land."

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterization, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The art! I had so much fun with it. I based the style off the old Penguin classics, like the Grapes of Wrath cover below. (Where they had the little penguin, I put the double-triangle Viper tattoo). I'm also showing my concept sketch for chapter 1 art.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share? I hand-wrote the story first, and it filled two notebooks:

Here are some research shots on the land and the equipment:

I took this photo while I was working. Welcome to the inside of my brain:

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I was itching to dramatize more of Ian and Mickey's lives while they were apart. It would have been fun to have 5-6 chapters of them learning to be whole humans again. But ultimately, that wouldn't serve the story. I did a time jump instead.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? The story is set in Fox River Grove. This entirely happened because @lalazeewrites introduced me to the town in their comments on Estate of Blood and Trust. So the events of EOBAT and OON are taking place in neighboring towns!

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote? @mzshko helped me figure out the best way to structure chapters 2 & 3. She was patient enough to read an alternate fully-written version of both chapters and tell me which option worked best.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story? Three months into writing this story, I stopped and did a self-analysis because it wasn't igniting. I wrote, "Could it be that I haven't put enough of myself into it?" So I re-evaluated and dug deeper and made it as personal as I could.

I can't emphasize enough how interwoven details of my own life were in this story. I helped my dad install that big aluminum gate in the woods. I used 5-gallon jugs of water to brush my teeth and sponges to bathe. I washed clothes by hand and cooked on a propane stove. I hauled and stacked logs from fallen trees. I had a love/hate relationship with my family's land and ached to be back in civilization, like Ian. My dad used to tell me bedtime stories about escaped prisoners (Mickey?!) roaming the woods and killing small children.

This story is a love letter to my dad, who was dying the entire time I was writing. He passed away in May of 2024.

This is open to all writers! Pick your favorite story you’ve written or your most popular or the one you think deserves some more love! Or ask your followers to suggest their favorite fic of yours!

[shuutingstar]

It’s FINALLY done. I’ve finished the sit-com/reality tv show/whatever. It’s only one chapter/a oneshot because it honestly took so long just to write and I procrastinated a bit, but there’s like 4 drafts of just different scenarios for this AU and I’m tired. Not sure if I’ll post this on ao3 or not, but whatever.

context (I guess??) to my suffering.

@doodlebugdpj I hope you like it and I’m terribly sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting! I understand if it’s garbage because it honestly is.

[camera pans on Will Solace’s face. He’s sitting on a love seat in a bland room and fidgeting with his hands]

Will: [blinks uncomfortably] uh, I’m not sure what I’m meant to—

[a piece of paper gets thrown at Will and he catches it effortlessly, he looks at the contents and sighs]

Will: [reading from the paper indifferently] welcome to the start of a spin-off series where we look into the lives of the demigods residing at Camp Half-Blood. There will be laughs, there will be hardship, but most of all there will be a rememberable and lovable cast of characters— do I have to read this?

Apollo [off-screen]: of course! How else am I meant to start off my career as the best movie director? You know, I’m still disappointed that I couldn’t be in the show, but maybe Hephaestus is just waiting to star me in something really popular! I know he would never brush off my experience and expertise!

Will: [sighs] fine, fine. —rememberable and lovable cast of characters who all face the mundane problems of Camp Half-Blood. Grab some popcorn and sit back because you are about to be sent to an entire different world.

[Apollo claps off-screen while Will puts his head in his hands]

Apollo: well done! Although I do think you need to be more expressive, but I suppose it’s usable. Now if I had done it I would’ve used more emotions to convey just how excited I was to show off my new show, but that might just be a me thing.

Will: [puts his hands on his lap] can I go yet? Nico said he wanted to play some video games today and I need enough brain power to mentally prepare myself for my inevitable defeat.

Apollo: [hums] I guess. All right, you may leave.

[Will stands up quickly and leaves the studio room/basement of the Big House without another word]

[The camera cuts to a shot of Alice Mizayawa and Julia Feingold, who are standing opposite each other]

Alice: so you know how Mr. D loves his coke?

Julia: [nods] yeah.

Alice: [giggles] so what if I told you I swapped it for diet?

Julia: [blinks] you… Alice!? Are you stupid?!

Alice: [scoffs] no? I am completely aware of the consequences! It’s called wanting to have fun, Juls.

Julia: [raises an eyebrow] are you sure you aren’t trying to impress Kayla?

Alice: [slaps a hand on Julia’s mouth] what?! No! Why would I?

[camera cuts to Julia Feingold sitting on the love seat]

Julia: [looks deadpan at camera] Alice has a crush on Kayla and before you say that it was rude of me to reveal that, I’ll have you know that everyone at camp knows except for Kayla.

[camera cuts back to the previous scene]

Julia: [sighs and gets rid of Alice’s hand] okay, okay. How are you supposed to know if Mr. D finds out?

Alice: [smirks] don’t worry, I’ll know.

[a beat of silence before a frustrated scream echoes through the camp, few campers look for its source]

Alice: there it is!

Julia: [face palms] you are so dead.

[camera cuts to Alice sitting on the loveseat, looking worse for wear yet smiling brightly]

Alice: I got put on dish washing duty for a month, but it was worth it! [she sits crisscrossed on the seat] Kayla said my prank was hilarious! Can you believe that? [her smile widens] I think I might explode.

[Dionysus sits at the love seat, looking beyond tired]

Mr. D: fuck you, Zeus.*

*Hephaestus TV would like to clarify that this is a figure of speech and Dionysus does not actually want to fuck Zeus.

[camera cuts to Cecil Markowitz, Lou Ellen and Will Solace sitting in a circle and playing a card game]

Lou: [places a card on the deck in the middle of the circle] UNO.

Will: [huffs] I swear if this is your third win—

Lou: oh please, you’re just mad you’re bad at a card game.

Cecil: [chuckles] even I’ve won at least once.

Will: [rolls his eyes] it’s a game of luck, Cecil. You don’t need much to win a game like this.

[in the background a cabin lights on fire and Percy Jackson can be seen controlling water from the lake to extinguish it]

Lou: [smirks] are you not lucky, Will?

Will: [deadpans] Tyche hates my guts.

Cecil: did you accidentally forget to heal Chiara or something?

Will: what? No! I take my job as head healer very seriously.

[the fire slowly dissipates, however the cabin is charred and badly damaged. Annabeth Chase walks over to Percy, the two discussing something too far to pick up on]

Lou: [shrugs] it’s your turn, dipshit.

Will: [looks at his cards, then places one on the deck ans grins] maybe Tyche doesn’t hate my guts.

Cecil: [groans] just great. [takes four cards from the opposite deck reluctantly]

Lou: what’s the colour?

Will: hmm, how ‘bout blue?

Lou: ugh! You son of a bicth!

[Will and Cecil laugh at Lou’s unfortunate situation all the while in the background the cabin has gone up in flames again, Percy and Annabeth staring for a single moment before trying to extinguish it again]

Will: [puts a card down] UNO!

Cecil: whaaaat?!

Lou: fuck you, sunshine boy.

Will: [grins smugly] I guess Tyche has finally blessed me. Suck it, losers!

Cecil: [frowns] you’re so cruel, William.

[the three friends laugh as the sun sets behind them. The cabin is no longer on fire and now Leo Valdez and Harley have joined Annabeth and Percy. They discuss something before Harley looks down dejectedly]

[the camera cuts to the bland room once more, Will Solace sitting in the love seat once again]

Will: for the record, I won that UNO game.

[a paper gets thrown at him and Will looks at its contents indifferently]

Will: [reading form the paper] that concludes the pilot episode for Apollo’s new TV show. He would like to thank himself for coming up with the idea and Hephaestus TV for sponsoring the production. Tune back in next Wednesday to catch the very first episode of the series. [looks at camera] how much longer is this gonna last, dad?

Apollo [off-screen]: dunno, I’ll have to check the views first. I’ll get back to you.

[the screen fades to black as Will stands up and leaves]

don’t ask my what kayla x alice is doing in here, I wanted a funny scene and kayla was the first person I thought of.

I hate this so much, but honestly I kind of just want to be done with this (for now). This most definitely branches out from my initial post because it’s hard to incorporate fight scenes when my vocabulary only consists of ‘explosions’ and ‘screams’ in that field. Also, I guess it would make sense if sometimes camp wasn’t in mortal danger and other times it was? So yeah. That’s what this is.

[yandere-wishes]

Opinion on the absolute ANCIENT history of Star Wars legends? Meaning Tulak Hord, Marka Ragnos and such

Anon I am SO SO SO SORRY this took me forever to answer. I loved the ask so much that I wanted to have the perfect mood and ambiance for when I answered it. Suffice it to say that that hasn't happened for a good while now. But I sincerely hope that you are still lurking around this blog and get a chance to see my response. I cannot express how excited this ask has made me!! I harbor an extremely unhealthy obsession with ancient Sith lords and their lore

I'm going to start off by saying that, if we were in the Star Wars universe I would have already become a Sith lord. Due SOLELY to how much Darkside lore I read~🖤❤️

I swear whenever I see a new Sith lord my brain goes: "Omg he's so ugly." Then he proceeds to live in my head rent-free for three days and on the third night, I find myself dreaming of making out with him... this has happened one too many times...It might be a little bit concerning. XD

Tulak Hord gives off major samurai vibes so I feel like he does follow some sorta Sith honor code. That being said he most likely acquires his darling as either a war trophy from some rival or conquered planet. Or she's a wide-eyed Acolyte who he can twist into his perfect darling. 

He's also so pretty and I want to kiss him so badly!!

 I'd love to be his little darling, a war trophy won in battle. Kept locked away within his fortress. A prize none but him are worthy to see. 

After each bloody campaign, he returns to you, his starlight. A dividend that keeps him fighting, keeps him tethered to the dark side of the force. He fights to provide you with an empire, to win your praises at his many accomplishments. 

 Little does he know of the aversion you harbor for him.

Tulak Hord the monster who took everything from you.  

No, but to be fair, I'd still be MADLY in love with him. Just imagine Lord Hord coming home from the battlefield, bloodied and still high off his bloodlust. 

Imagine straddling him as you lovingly peel off his bloodied armor. Kissing his flesh every time it appears from under his armor. He'd run his clawed gauntlets over your back tracing your spine. Making you shiver from the frigid steel. Your warmth feels welcoming, innocent, he longs to corrupt it. 

Then obviously kissing when you get to his helmet. Deep and passionate. Filled with hate and love. Out of fear, you've learned to play your role as a doubtful lover, a devoted wife, to a fault. 

"The universe is more complicated than you could ever imagine, starlight. Be thankful that I've shielded you away from all its inconsistencies."

It's getting harder and harder to remember why you resist him so much. Why push him away when his presence is so overwhelming? Consuming you wholly. 

"Thank you, my lord." 

NOW...

If you were his Acolyte things would play out a bit differently. He'd have trained you for so many years. Building you up to be the ultimate weapon and simultaneously his ideal darling. You're too far gone, mistaking toxins for affection. You've learned to cherish every bruise and broken bone that comes from him.

You were such a naive little girl when he first took an interest in you. Now he's morphed you into the scourge of the battlefield. The mere mention of your name sends generals running away in fear. 

He finds you after every campaign. Permits you the honor of washing his armor and tending to his wounds. Basking in the way your nimble fingers apply bacta to what little scars he may have received. 

Tulak is such a tremendous master. Personally seeing to your wellbeing and recovery. 

He pulls you onto his lap, kissing your open wounds as he stitches them for you. Sometimes he pulls his helmet up and plunges his tongue into the trauma lapping at the blood and broken muscles as he ravishes in your delightful moans. He'll whisper sweet praises into your ears, telling you how proud he is of all you've accomplished, what a stupendous sith lord you shall make someday, ruling by his side. All while his iron-clad fingers work bruises into your soft flesh. 

You are his perfect little doll.

Tulak Hord's perfect little acolyte.

Would it be wrong to say that I kinda want to be Marka Ragnos' concubine? Or just his pretty little princess who's always at his beck and call!! Look he's literally a giant hulking red alien with golden horns... what's not to love!! 

Plus I'd give anything to just sit on his lap as he holds court. Tracing patterns across his chest and relishing in the feeling of his claws scraping across your flesh, leaving his mark even when he's focused on galactic domination. 

Prior to that Marka would totally dress you in the most ethereal dresses!! All lavish golds and blood reds. Somedays they'd be full-blown multilayered dresses and other days (when he wants to show a bit more dominance) he'll have you wearing danity silk dresses that show more skin than you are comfortable with. 

He'd also shower you with praises throughout the day. Calling you his "sweet little princess" and "pretty girl". look getting called "pretty girl" by a sith lord is free therapy and I am HERE for it😤😍😤😍. 

I also have this random headcanon that Marka Ragnose is (in some ways) a father figure to Vitita/Valkorion/Tenebrae. That being said it's only logical for Marka Ragnos' darling to be (younger) Vitita's mother figure. In a twisted forceful way, they're kinda like a happy family. Also forced Yandere family is one of my fav tropes, so I had to reference it here lol. 

Okay, guys seriously this ask has made me so happy since the MOMENT I got it!! If anyone wants to send in asks for any Star Wars Sith lords (well-known ones, obscure ones, hated/loved ones) my ask box is wide open. 

In conclusion, I've been collecting Sith Lords to simp over like an 8-year-old collects Pokemon cards. Sith lords are unconventionally HOT and I'd totally be down to be there sweet little darling !! Like please just let me be a Sith Lord's cute little side piece, the eye candy that hangs off his arm. His pretty little bunny girl that'll do anything to please him.

(*Concerningly looks down at the pride and self-respect I just smashed.* "Whoops...that wasn't supposed to happen") 

Anon I think I answered your question with these little stories. I am very much IN LOVE with the ancient Sith lords. And it doesn't just stop at Tulak and Marka. I literally NEED a harm of Sith lords. Look they may not be conventionally handsome, but there's something about "the dark forces warping their appearance" that makes me go absolutely feral!! 🤣🤣😍😍

[joels-darlin]

Monday Morning - The Situation

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ only. kidnapping/hostage situation, violence, angst, hurt, allusions to rape, mentions of weapons, restraints/being tied up, mentions of blood and injuries. (I think that's all sorry if I missed any)

Summary: A standard Monday morning commute to the DEA office takes a harrowing turn of events.

Word count: 1592

Author Note: What's this?! I'm writing for Peña AND its more than 800 words - absolute madness. This is not my normal go to for fics but I wanted to push the boat out and give something new a try. Not a lot of Javi in this one but there will be a part two which I'm currently writing so all shall be revealed. Any feedback is appreciated, thanks all ♥️ Special Note: Just a huge thanks to @ladybess-a03 for pushing me to do this. I've had the idea for ages and without your support it would of just got left in the pile forever - thankyou ♥️

AO3 Link

Darkness. That was all you could see right now; complete darkness. The blindfold on your face clung to your skin, the mixture of blood, sweat and tears. This was not how you had expected Monday morning to go.

Since accepting the accepting a job with the DEA and moving to Columbia permanently (Bogotá to be precise) you had spent the past 10 months integrating into the team alongside fellow Agents Javier Peña and Steve Murphy - getting up to speed with the case and assisting hunting down drug lord Pablo Escobar. It was a seamless transition both agents welcoming you with open arms. What helped was the friendship the three of you had struck up outside of work, often out drinking in local bars or over at Steve’s for some home made food from Connie. It was nights like those that made the long stressful days much easier.

So you thought nothing of it when you where approached by, what you assumed, was a couple of nuisance sellers on the streets in the middle of grabbing your morning coffee from the cart. It was something that happened on occasion, young men, women or children trying to make a living.

What took you by surprise was when one of them pulled out a gun, the barrel aimed to your head. The taller of the two stepped back throwing a heavy punch square to your jaw rending you completely useless. In one swift motion, before you could even recover or defend yourself the feeling of cool metal around your wrists - handcuffs. The all too familiar clicking of the lock. Then came the darkness, a blindfold shoved around your head.

All your instincts told you something was wrong and turns out you where right to assume so. Next thing you where being bundled into the boot of a vehicle which proceeded to tear through the streets of Bogotá. Trying to remember the various twists and turns the vehicle had taken so you could figure out at least what area you where in, no use everything was just a blur. The anxiety in your chest and the dull ache in your head contributing to the oncoming brain fog, making you unable to remember any small detail.

The car eventually came to a halt the boot lid being ripped open exposing you to the humid Bogotá air. Yelping as one of your now kidnappers roughly grabbed your upper arm dragging you out of the boot setting you on your feet with a thump.

“Camina perra!” He sneered in a rough voice, lips so close to your ear you could feel the saliva drops coming from his mouth, knowing enough Spanish to understand what that meant.

“No no let me go please” screaming, pleading from the top of your lungs; thrashing and resisting as hard as you physically could. It was no use though they where too strong. You had never given any thought to how you would react in a situation like this. No number of years training could help right now either, these where the men of the biggest drug lord in Columbia and would stop at nothing if they got they information needed. But right now you where frightened which was evident in the way your chest ached and body shaking with anxiety. Showing a vulnerable state compared to hardened persona of the DEA agent showcased by day. There was one thing you where sure of though they weren’t getting any information from you, no matter how hard and long the torture was. At the back of your mind you knew from previous informants and victims of the Pablo’s men how this often went, a cold chill jolting down your spine at the mere thought.

“What do you want from me!!” you screamed the moment the boot lid popped open, voice raw, croaky from the sheer amount of tears shed. Not a word from either of them just grabbing you by the arms again in a vice grip, dragged from the car with force. The lack of energy in your body was making it hard to fight. You battled with what you had left but they continued and as a warning landed a few punches/kicks across various parts of your body; knowing there would be a rainbow of bruises the next day. If you even made it that far.

It was no surprise when you where thrown onto the cold metal of a chair in what you assumed was a derelict room, not hard to miss by the stench of damp and death in the air or the sounds that echoed around across the walls; dripping water, footsteps. The stagnant air filled your burning lungs with every breath bringing with it a sickening twisting feeling to your lower stomach.

The handcuffs that adorned your wrists earlier removed only briefly so they could secure you down to the chair. Glad that you had chosen to wear jeans today as the rolls of duck tape where tightly wrapped securing your ankles to the chair legs. The sounds of the footsteps where moving away shortly after, they where leaving?! Now all alone with just your thoughts.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since you where still virtually blind. Only when the sounds of the squeak from the door hinge opening, then came the footsteps. Signalling to you that someone…no two people had entered the room. Off came the blindfold the sharp pain in your scalp as few strands of hair where ripped from their follicles - a painful reminder of the once harrowing darkness. Squinting your eyes surveyed the room, adjusting to the limited light from the yellowing lamp that hung in the centre of the room. Eyes landing on the two figures stood in front of you. They where broad, one bald and one not. Dressed in the finest cotton shirts and jeans money could buy. Fancy loafers adorning their feet - definitely part of Escobar’s crew you could just tell. The faces though you where unable to be recognise, never ones to have cropped up frequently during surveillance before.

“Now now you are going to co-operate otherwise this. gets. ugly.” The taller of the two spat as he moved walking slowly to circle your frame tied to the chair once. Like he was getting a good view of his prey and you swear you caught him licking his lips at one point. You swallowed loudly, throat thickening. He approached slowly eye on yours as he leant down, leaning closer lips next to the shell of your ear whispering.

“So what’s a pretty little girl like you doing running around with the DEA huh. We know who you are and well…lets just say you are going to do us a little favour - that clear bitch?”

The hot breath on blowing over your skin making you shiver violently. “Keep your mouth shut don’t say ANYTHING” crossing your mind repeatedly. He moved backwards kneeling slightly, now at level with your eyes.

“Did you not hear me? ANSWER THE QUESTION” he bellowed standing up to normal position again voice echoing around the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides, rage evident. You sat completely still not moving a muscle or uttering a word. Then came the punches, one to your stomach, head, face - anywhere he could reach really. You where bleeding now the punches so hard it had split the skin in various places, feeling the trails of blood running down your skin. There was a metallic taste flooding your mouth, the busted lip from the blows that occurred moments ago.

“ANSWER. ME. NOW.” the fury in his eyes was present as you shook your head refusing to answer. Scared to open your mouth know no voice would even come out if you wanted too.

“Playing the long game huh? okay I see how it is then” he sneered, chuckling ever so slightly. Walking back over to the other man he starts barking orders.

”Remove her from that chair and take her next door…I want her on the bed ready for me in 5 minutes…two can play the long game” and then left.

It took a few moments to register what he meant by that and when you did you clenched your thighs together, hoping and praying he wasn't going to follow through with his words. You broke down begging, pleading as the bald man loosened the ankle restraints before roughly hoisting your frame over his shoulder, carrying you into the dark room and dropping you on the mattress. The sound of the door slamming as he left.

He was already there. Waiting in the corner a harrowing smile spread across his face. Watching as he approached the bed, fingers working to undo the belt buckle at his waist. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, a fresh set of tears spilling from them. The feeling of the mattress shifting next to you caused a wave of anxiety to crash over your body. You lay there hoping that this was going to be over quickly.

It was over. For now. Broken, bruised and beaten you remained in a fetal position on the dishevelled mattress sobbing; wrists and ankles still bound together. All clothing stripped from your lower half, a dull ache between your thighs as a painful reminder of what you had endured not so long ago.

There was one shred of hope that you clung to - hoping that Javi and Steve would find you soon.

[blu3haw4]

When I'm drunk, I get the munchies so how about "what do you want to eat? Bend over"

Oh anon thank you! That was so quick sorry im so slow. I wrote the beginning of this the same night, a bit yesterday while hang over, and just now finished it 😬

I must admit i had to think it throught (let's say translations weren't working in my brain) but here it goes. This is maybe a part of my stripper/CEO wip:

It has been a long day. For the both of them, in very different ways for each, but oh so endlessly long.

There was only one thing in Lexa's mind when she walked into her girlfriend's apartment. -A place so much smaller than her penthouse, but so much more comfortable. A place that felt much more like home than the place she called that for years. - Clarke was in the kitchen wearing only an oversized t-shirt while picking items here and there, moving around the kitchen, deciding then and there what to do.

Lexa had a key, she's had it for over four month now and she loved to use it. She loved the feeling of coming home to her girlfriend. Specially when said girlfriend insist on trying to 'help out' on stressful days full of meeting and sending thousands of provakative pictures, just to then pretend as though those hadn't been sent. Continuing on their previous conversation like nothing happened.

Lexa's underwear has been ruined since noon.

It was currently 9pm.

"Hey baby! Welcome home!"

There was a 'how was your day' hidden in there, but Lexa could sense Clarke bitting her lip. She knew what she had done.

Lexa didn't respond, she just walked into the living room, methodically putting away her suitcase and different bags of folders she brought from work. She took long enough for Clarke to walk out of the kitchen looking for her.

"Long day, beautiful?" Clarke asked Lexa, moving her hands up to her shoulder and turning her around for a greeting kiss.

Those hands moved further back to play with the baby hairs in the back of Lexa's neck as Clarke pulled them closer in the kiss.

Lexa didn't resist. How could she?

Lexa chased -she always did- and pulled at Clarke's hips to drag her closer even if she hadn't moved.

Her hands found their usual spot holding Clarke's hips and she let herself get lost in the kiss. If there was any doubt of whether her intentions for the night were a shared thought, they got erased when a skilled tongue expertly licked its way into her mouth, colliding and dancing with her own for only a second before Clarke retrieved entirely from the kiss.

"What do you want to eat?" Clarke asked inocent, and Lexa actually wondered if the questions was genuine or flirty.

She didn't really care either way. There was still only one thing in her mind. Only one right answer.

So looking down, Lexa grabbed the edge of Clarke's oversized t-shirt and pulled slightly up, just to check that there was no other barrier she had to take care of.

She licked her lips at the sight and with a breathy exhale she looked up again.

"Bend over"

She ordered, looking at Clarke's deep blue eyes and watched them get swallowed by her dilating pupils.

There was a second of shared breath, no hesitation, only pure anticipation. They moved together, turning in sync while Clarke turned on her own too. Lexa's hand were still over Clarke's hips when she leaned over the side of the couch followed by Lexa's chasing lips.

With her elbows firmly on the cushion and Lexa leaning over her back, kissing her shoulder while pulling her shirt up for a better view, Clarke pushed herself back into her girlfriend's body.

Making her way down through Clarke's back with her lips, Lexa thought of a million things she could say, prize Clarke for her obedience and slide into a little role play, scowl at her about the hundreds of nudes she sent Lexa just that day, profess her love for Clarke and verbally worship her. In the end, she knew her lips would do better not talking.

Once she was kneeled down behind Clarke, worship her ass was a must; she kissed and caressed lovingly and then bit and nibble softly, and then not so softly, teasing, testing how far Clarke would let her go. It was a particularly hard, open-mouthed bite that did it.

"Lex" was let out surprisingly calm and collected from above "no marks" All Lexa did was kiss it better, before moving on to her main objective.

♾️

Hour later laying in bed, laying her head on Clarke's chest Lexa looked down at her heavily marked thighs. There were bruises all from the top of her thigh down and around the inner side. She wasn't so sure but she could see one on her calf too.

"We should go on vacation again" Lexa mused, snuggling into Clarke's neck "Somewhere far, far away. For much longer than last time... y'know, so we give time for your hickeys to fade"

An amused exhale was Clarke's answer.

"I'm serious. We could go to Europe... spend a month or something"

"Bell would fire me if I'm gone for that long"

"That'd be a very unwise business decision. He'd lose 30% of his clientele"

"You really just took my word for it?"

"And Raven's. And Octavia's too, she knows about business. I also witnessed it"

Silence spread after Clarke simply hummed. After a couple minutes, the blonde tasked "You ruin all my plans!"

Offended, slightly amused and a little shocked, Lexa lifted her head to gap at Clarke "I was gonna make you an amazing dinner! And you distracted me"

"I distracted you? You asked me what i wanted to eat! Anything that happened after i was done was purely your doing" Lexa deflected, laying her head down again.

"Uhm, sorry? Was i supposed to... what? Just walk back into the kitchen while you literally started undressing in front of me?"

"I was merely getting comfortable" Lexa shrugged with a smirk clear in her tone. Before Clarke could complain, she lifted her head again "Besides, none of this would've happened if you hadn't sent a million pictures while i was working"

Clarke gasped this time, as Lexa relaxed once more "you ungrateful brat! People pay to see what you complain of having access to"

"Nono, i ain't complaining, I'm merely stating arguments to declare my innocence against your accusations"

Clarke laughed out loud and pulled Lexa up for a kiss "i was gonna make you spaghetti with tomato sauce" she grumbled after.

"We can order it" Lexa whispered, still high from the kiss. Clarke laughed again.

"God! Do you do anything by yourself? No wonder your kitchen is spotless, when was the last time you cooked something?"

"My kitchen is spotless because I have a cleaning team going in twice a week. My room and office i do all by myself, for the record"

Leaning into another kiss Clarke chuckled "no wonder they're so dusty"

Lexa gasped into the kiss, Clarke holding her close "your house is dusty" she grumbled, making Clarke laugh again.

"It is not! I just don't have a cleaning team coming in twice a week"

The couple laughed, freely and lovingly as they continued kissing. Enveloped in the sent of their love making and the sound of their shared happiness, Lexa thanked every and any divinity for the chance to have it with Clarke.

"I love you"

"I love you too, baby"

"So about our trip to Europe-"

"Lexa!"

[ticklystuff]

Hi! Can you please write Lee Kaveh and Ler Alhaitham with Bellybutton? 👀

closed, send no more!

a/n: hiiii i'm sorry this took so long! the idea for this fic is cringe but i really liked it so i just ran with it hahaha but hope you enjoy!

characters: alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari is here for a minute lol

wc: ~2.1k

"No way! You're not serious, right?"

"No, yeah, I'm not kidding! It's actually so funny!"

Alhaitham huffed as the two's voices permeated through his bedroom walls that he was sure were made of paper at this point. Visitors weren't commonplace for his humble abode and there was a good reason for that, yet despite knowing this, Kaveh's persistence somehow managed to sway Alhaitham into allowing Tighnari to come over for tea. The blond's request was immediately shot down with zero hesitation on Alhaitham's part, as entertaining guests was not particularly one of his strong suits, but after some careful consideration, the potential pros seemed to outweigh the cons. Not only would it give Alhaitham some free time away from the blond, but Kaveh would have someone else to let out his little vents onto. Oftentimes, there was little substance to what Kaveh usually had to say and the inability to spark meaningful conversation meant a good waste of a portion to Alhaitham's day. With Tighnari over, however, Alhaitham would no longer be subjected to such a time sink and could enjoy his afternoon Kaveh-free.. or so he initially thought. The ecstatic giggles from the two escalated into screeching laughter and that familiar feeling of regret, something Alhaitham often associated with anything related to Kaveh, began to take its place in his chest. Not even the noise-cancelling earpieces he purchased specifically for situations like these were of aid.

That's it. Tighnari had overstayed his welcome.

Slamming the book in hand with one swift motion, Alhaitham stood up from his desk, marching over to his bedroom door to give Kaveh and his guest a piece of his mind, only to immediately stop in his tracks when his ears caught on to the topic at hand.

"Yeah, Alhaitham is so ticklish too!"

The little cogs in Alhaitham's brain seemed to come to a standstill, malfunctioning as his brain attempted to process what Kaveh so casually blurted out, taking more time than it should have put him back on track. Once things were back up and running, Alhaitham was still at a loss on how to react, left standing in place, blinking over and over as the words replayed in his head, face turned flush unknowingly. Why was this even a topic of conversation, let alone something that Kaveh felt the need to share? Do normal people even think about tickling in their daily lives? What would even bring such a subject on like this?

"Wait really?" Tighnari sounded genuinely shocked, as if most people in the world weren't ticklish on some level. "People like Cyno and Alhaitham too, I guess, always go around acting super serious, but then just fall to a couple of tickles." Okay, so apparently this is a normal thing for Tighnari too.

"I know, right? He's always like 'I'm acting grand sage Alhaitham, my house my rules blahblahblah.'" Alhaitham reeled at the comically guttural voice Kaveh used to imitate him; he didn't sound like that at all. "But then he screams when your hands even get close to his sides."

"Wait, that actually reminds of this one time," Tighnari began, clearly excited by the tone of his voice, "but I poked at Cyno's ribs once and he made like these sounds; I'm not sure how to describe them, but like, he almost sounded like a pig, I guess?"

"A pig? I don't think- oh wait! You mean like this?" The following sounds were reason enough for Alhaitham to rip his eardrums out, resembling what he assumed was Kaveh's best impression of a snorting pig. Whether the imitated pig was being laid to slaughter or not, he wasn't so sure.

To Tighnari, though, these noises sufficed, as evident by the entertained laughter that Alhaitham was able to make out through the door. "Yes, thank you! That's exactly what he sounds like!"

"Oh, and don't even get me started on Alhaitham." As much as wished to stop eavesdropping, the sudden mention of his name again piqued the scribe's ears. "He may not snort like Cyno, but he does something just as bad." There was a brief silence that not even Tighnari broke and Alhaitham found himself removing the earbuds that seldom left his ears, pressing the side of his head to the door for full clarity. "One time, I tickled Alhaitham and I was able to get him to squeal," Kaveh spoke, as if this was a personal achievement to be proud of.

Something in Alhaitham's brain snapped at this very moment, his left eye twitching as Kaveh and Tighnari continued their waste of a conversation. Squeal? Never once in his life has he ever done such a thing. He couldn't even recall the specific instance that Kaveh was referring to, but the more he thought about it, the more the heat in his head began to rise, creating an unfamiliar feeling as it was unlike the scribe to lose his cool. Still, even if it was true, which it definitely was not, who did Kaveh think he was to be spreading around hearsay like this? His hand reached for the knob of the door, fully ready to go out and not only defend his pride, but rip Kaveh to shreds, yet Alhaitham's hand froze just as he turned the knob, halting at the thought of a new idea, a plan most satisfying.

"Ah, it looks like it's getting late." Alhaitham's ears perked up at the sound of Tighnari's voice, nearly smirking with how things just seemed to line up for him. "I should get going soon. I promised Cyno I'd walk him home today." How convenient.

"Oh, take some of the snacks! Let me go find some containers to pack them up for you." Alhaitham listened to the shuffle of multiple footsteps resounding off the floorboards, mixed with the idle chit chat that his ears began to tune out. At least they moved past the previous subject..

"Alright, thanks again!" The familiar sound of the front door being opened followed Tighnari's farewell. "Tell Alhaitham I said hi!"

"Alright, alright, take care!"

Alhaitham continued to stand by his bedroom door in silence, giving himself a few minutes before proceeding with his plan in mind. He listened as the front door shut, followed by what he assumed was Kaveh cleaning up after his gossip session with Tighnari, noting the occasional incoherent grumble from the blond. Once a sufficient amount of time had passed, Alhaitham slowly stepped out of his room, walking down the short aisle to see Kaveh's back to him, tidying up just like he presumed. There were two empty wine glasses resting on the table, a possible explanation to the obnoxious laughter.

"Kaveh."

The sound of Alhaitham's voice seemingly morphed Kaveh's mannerisms, a noticeable shift to the strung-up self Alhaitham was most familiar with. "Ugh, there you are!" Kaveh bellowed with a spin to his heel, marching up to Alhaitham, a slight tinge of pink to his face. "You couldn't even spare the time of day to come out of your room and greet Tighnari! Like, what kind of host do you think you are?!"

"A good one, considering you'd most likely complain about my presence killing the mood," Alhaitham simply brushed off the nagging, visibly irritating Kaveh further. "Anyway, I did not come here for you to criticize me. Rather, I'm inquiring about your earlier conversation with him."

Kaveh scoffed, hands on his hips. "Oh, so now you're interested in things I have to say?"

"Not really," Alhaitham responded flatly, "but for the sake of my efforts, let's pretend that I am."

"I mean just some normal chit-chat, I guess," Kaveh said with a shrug, raising an eyebrow at the other. "Why are you asking? If you're so curious, just hang out with us the next time."

"Well, I'd prefer not to go through the trouble," Alhaitham waved off the suggestion, an ill use of his time, really. "However, I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Oh, so you were listening!"

"-the topic of your conversation being a peculiar one," Alhaitham continued, the interruption hardly worth addressing. "Kaveh, tell me, have you ever squealed before?"

This fully caught the other off-guard, the blatant confusion written all over his face. "What?"

"During your conversation with Tighnari, you mentioned details about my overall sensitivity. Although I do not deny being somewhat ticklish, I must refute the fact that you mention I squeal. There has never-"

"Seriously? This is what you're hung up on?"

"-been a time where I have ever done such a thing, leading me to the conclusion that you've yet to experience the particular sound. Therefore, I have decided-"

"Come on, Alhaitham. It's not a big deal."

"-that perhaps you need to squeal yourself."

"What are you even-" Alhaitham observed as Kaveh's own words suddenly caught in his mouth, the look of alarm bells visibly going off in his head as the realization of the younger's words settled in. The blond gave two nervous blinks, to which Alhaitham responded with a single nod, an indication of what was about to occur. Before Alhaitham could take his next breath, Kaveh was already off running, prompting Alhaitham to shortly do the same.

"Don't-! NO! Stay away from mehehe!" Kaveh shrieked with apprehensive giggles as he barely avoided Alhaitham's grasp, snatching one of the cushions from the sofa to use as a lousy projectile that hardly required dodging on Alhaitham's part.

"What's the matter, Kaveh?" Alhaitham barely missed a beat in his step as Kaveh attempted everything possible to throw off the scribe in his pursuit, knowing Kaveh well enough to read his movements. "You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, would you?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Kaveh's voice grew more frantic with each circle around the sofa, his pleas for mercy falling on Alhaitham's deaf ears. "I shouldn't have said anything! I'm sohohorry!"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have."

"Alhaitham, wait! Truce! Trucetrucetruce! Please- noHOHO!" Whether it was due to his usual clumsiness or the glass of red wine from earlier, Alhaitham was sure it was a combination of both, the scribe managed to eventually snatch Kaveh by the waist, firmly wrapping his arm around the other to prevent him from squirming free. Kaveh was already a giggly mess before Alhaitham had even started, doing everything in his power, which admittedly wasn't much, to stop the inevitable, but once Alhaitham's fingers began prodding through the thin flowy top that Kaveh oh-so loved to wear on his days off did the fun really begin.

"Noho! NOHOHO!" Choosing to start at his ribs, Alhaitham was rewarded with a healthy dose of laughter as his fingers teased at the sensitive area with dexterity and precision, unfazed by the squirmy Kaveh in his arm. On top of the flurries of movement came multitude of cursing and swearing, most incoherent due to the mix forced laughter, yet Alhaitham continued in a collected manner, already an expert at blocking out Kaveh's voice. After all, he only had one goal on his mind, each poke pushing his determination further.

"Squeal."

This appeared to set something off in Kaveh, arms flailing about more wildly accompanied by a cry that could only resemble one of a strangled cat, clearly rejecting the proposition. "NOHOHO! LeheHEHEheht me gohoHOHO!" His body seemingly shrunk in Alhaitham's hold, a failed attempt at scrunching away from the way his fingers walked down the middle of his ribcage and along his waist, each step defined to trigger an individual sensation that made Kaveh jump.

"Squeal."

"Alhaithahaham, wahaHAHAIT!" Jumbled laughter was all that spilled from his mouth now, unable to properly structure coherent sentences. Despite the shrill shrieks, there was something almost charming about the laughter that filled the room and Alhaitham couldn't help but smile along, if only just slightly. Still, despite the near entrancement, Alhaitham remained on track, taking particular notice to the seemingly growing frenzied responses elicited in Kaveh's reactions, both bodily and vocally, whenever his hand hovered just over his navel. Perhaps this might just be what he needed..

"Squeal."

"HaAAAH!! NO-NOHOHO!"

Just as he thought, Alhaitham had struck gold, drawing out the exact reaction he sought. Kaveh's squeal echoed throughout the space, almost as if the walls reverberated with his laughter. He allowed himself to tease that specific area longer than intended, enjoying the hectic mess Kaveh had become in the process, before finally releasing the blond, watching as Kaveh quickly hobbled away to create distance between the two.

"Well, I hope you've learned your lesson," Alhaitham put it bluntly, catching the irate expression Kaveh shot him. "Now, you wouldn't want me spreading the story about how you squeal when tickled, right?"

"Fine, fine, we're even!" Kaveh scoffed, throwing his arms up in annoyance. "Truce?"

Alhaitham couldn't help but smirk in response. "Truce."

[birdsaredinosagenda]

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Character: Kuroo Tetsuro

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, a bit of angst(?), it’s straight to fucking, friends with benefits

Sounds of moans and groans and the slapping of skin on skin mixes with the audio of the movie that plays forgotten. The two people—you and Kuroo—who took way too long to pick it are too busy with each other to even bother hitting pause.

“This is why you should get a girlfriend,” you tell him in between sighs.  

“She can do this with you when you have a bad day.”

Having you bouncing on his cock with one hand on his shoulder and the other grabbing a fistful of his hair is just what he needs after a fantastically shitty day.

He almost forgot that you’d be at his place picking up the books and sandals you left last week. A greeting of ‘hey, you’ from you as the door opens had a funny effect on him. Like the first sip of chilled soda, bright and sweet and stings just right. But you didn’t need to know that.

You sit on him fully and take his entire length, you roll your hips and set a pace and pressure so you can grind your clit on his pubis while your cunt is filled. Doing this to him is definitely more fun than riding a stack of pillows.  

“Why should I when you’re already doing-” His arrogance fails a bit as you clench your pussy around his cock. “Ah, fuck!”  

He sucks air between his teeth and pulls you closer to capture your lips with his. Your mouth opens right away to welcome his tongue. He tilts his head a bit so he can kiss you like how you like it. He leans forward and put his weight on one knee so he can fuck you how he wants.

“Your pussy feels like heaven.”

A soft chuckle gets lost with the sound of rain that falls in the living room of the couple in the movie.

He gets a good, strong hold of you and puts you down on the bed. Pulling out his cock, creamy with your juices, Kuroo is almost shaking with urgency and desire to bury his length in you again.

He crawls over you and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth graze your soft skin.

“See, if you have a girlfriend, you can do this with her anytime and you won’t have to share.”

Hilarious. You’ve always had a quite a mouth on you. One of the things that make you so attractive.

He braces himself with his left arm and his right hand finds the back of your knees to lift your leg up.

“I can just not share” he says as he lines up his cock at your entrance.

“You can just forget about that one.” He pushes the head of his dick back in your pussy.  

“Mmm, I dunno…I like Ren.”

His lips crack into smile. He pulls out completely then sheathes himself to the hilt. Deep and hard thrusts bring out load moans from you. Hips rising to meet his. Kuroo’s breathing starts to speed up and in between hard breaths he curses and groans. 

“More than me?”

You pretend to not hear his question and he pretends to not notice your evasion.

Shit.

Two sensations compete for his attention—both intense and demanding to be felt. He chooses to focus on the incredible friction on his cock over the annoying tickle in his chest.

You both know what you signed up for, ground rules were clear from the start. You even had it in writing because you both are weirdos who just can’t help themselves.

Just fucking.  

No titles, no feelings.

Can have other partners but needs to be disclosed.  

You want something, you say something.

It stops when one party wants it to stop.  

It ends when it’s not fun anymore.  

It ends when one party gets weird about shit.

He gets the drinks, you get the snacks.

Signature here. Initials here. Shake my hand here. May this friendship bring many fun and frequent benefits. (It did. It does.)

Kuroo feels your legs wrap tighter around his hips, bringing him closer and deeper. Every nerve ending of your sensitive spots firing simultaneously.  

His orgasm hits him like a tsunami. One big wave, anything and everything on its path wiped out. But he doesn’t stop his movement. Can’t think about anything else if he fucks his own brains out. And he doesn’t want to feel think about anything else. He just wants this. Just you and your nails scratching up his back. Just your cunt squeezing his dick. The feeling of your warm skin. The taste of the melon candy you were eating and your flavor when he ate you.

He tries to maintain the cadence of his pumps as yeses and fucks tumble from your lips. He pumps through tight shoulders and buckling hips. He grabs your ass so he can fuck in you in the way he knows would have you screaming. He takes pride in knowing how to get that angle perfectly. You can be standing or on all fours or dangling at the edge of the bed. He knows how to position his hips and yours to get the same result.

His fingertips dig into your flesh as he thrusts and grind to give you your release. You reach your peak and he almost comes again.  

This part. This part is always his favorite. Fucking you is amazing but having you lose yourself after you cum around his cock is unbeatable. Reducing you to whines and whimpers is always the goal.

The pleasant buzz of endorphins fills his head and he stays in you for a few more moments to feel the tiny tremors that are running up and down your thighs. He rolls off you with a hiss, turning over as he catch his breath  

On screen a man runs hand in hand with a red-haired woman as people around them disappear one by one.

“No.”

He turns to you with half-lidded eyes, his breathing starting to slow. “What? D’you say something?”

You take one big breath and sigh.

“I said, no. Not more than you.”