#and the thing that /pushed/ him into joining the resistance to prevent from happening again (losing someone he cares about under his

[the-force-awakens]

Still not used to this life or death situation stuff. That's good, 'cause I'm not either. You never get used to it.

#swedit #starwarsedit #starwarsblr #star wars #poe dameron #flashing gif #nym.gifs #thinking about how in the stuff pre tfa he just. he wants to be a /pilot/ he wants to be a /soldier/ because he doesn't want to have to #carry the burden of the moral calls and the weight of so many people's lives in his hands #especially when strategies go /wrong/ #'point me at the bad guys and let me do my thing' #he works alone SO often. #and there's something so genuinely tragic that poe's just. /so/ good at what he does that he ends up catapulting himself into the position #that. he didn't want. #and the thing that /pushed/ him into joining the resistance to prevent from happening again (losing someone he cares about under his #command /keeps/ happening). and worse he ends up in these positions where he /could/ blame himself for things that /aren't/ his call. #like u know he's got to feel responsible for the village on some level not to mention fuckin /kijimi/ #it was /his/ idea to go there #the world should've protected you. instead you've been chosen to protect it. #what an honor. what an injustice. #not all of these fit this theme but mostly i just wanted to focus on his reaction/responses to some of the bigger tragedies in the trilogy #and tbh there's also. plenty more shots.

[simplegenius042]

Would you be willing to share a bit from A Truce, As Null And Void As Yourself?

Certainly!

A Truce, As Null And Void As Yourself is the official name of the FC5 Arranged/Forced marriage AU I've been kicking myself to find a name for. Essentially, the plot is, Silva and the Resistance leaders meet with the Seeds to negotiate a truce/peaceful resolution, but Joseph will only give it if Silva is handed over to them and marries a suitor he's chosen... that being Jacob (much to the guy's dismay) because "the Voice said so". This doesn't work for Silva for many reasons (incompatible orientation, she hates Jacob plus the cult's guts and also the fact Joseph didn't even say anything about compensating the Hope County residents for the deaths and destruction they've brought being amongst those reasons), nor does it for Kamski and the Resistance so they decline... until Silva is given time think back on all the things that had lead her to this life, and a visit to Carmina and her parents reminding her of what she lost due to her past hotheadedness and thirst for vengeful justice, and her own guilt over multiple things push her to take the deal with Joseph with a few altercations; she will join Eden's Gate and marry Jacob if he can acknowledge that the marriage is purely tactical and does not at all require her and Jacob to do things that both would find uncomfortable or would be downright impossible for either to commit to, and she wants him to agree to whatever reparations the county wants back for all the trouble and terror Eden's Gate caused them.

By this point, in most fics like this, Eden's Gate and the Resistance would co-exist, and the deputy would slowly live assimilate in the lifestyle of the cult, and find it "not that bad".

Here though? I argue differently. I agree that if an alliance was required, Eden's Gate and the Resistance would team up to deal with the third party. But this isn't an alliance; it's a call for a truce/peaceful resolution to the violence.

I absolutely agree that Joseph views the Seals opening as a bad thing, and would hope to avoid it. He does not want any of his siblings to die, and hopes that his guidance can keep them to the visions where they do survive to see Eden (as his voicemail to John also implies) which the Voice showed him. However, while Joseph believes he can prevent the deaths, he is unaware that the Voice is capable of deceiving him, showing him visions it itself does not intend on following through with.

Joseph doesn't want the Seals to break... but what he doesn't know is that the Voice absolutely does, because that's how the Collapse happens; through sacrifices. It had designed things so that either Joseph loses his family again, or the deputy fails everyone and loses themself + everyone they've come to care for in the process. And in FC5, the Voice got a two-in-one package deal.

In this fic, the truce is exactly as it says on the title... null and void. It's a ploy. The Voice does not care for honor, or human concepts such as trust... it will ensure the Collapse happens, by either pushing its Muse (Silva) to the edge of distress til she fights back and breaks the rest of the Seals and taking all Joseph had, OR the Prophet (Joseph) pushes Silva til she breaks down after losing everything; the life she wanted to live, her independence, her community (again) and herself. The 'As Yourself' part of the title is up to interpretation... either it refers to the Voice, who is hollow inside except for its (preset) sadism and without any humanity whatsoever, or Joseph for literally sacrificing human values just to appease the Voice's demands despite how much damage it does and how much he may not personally like it, making him essentially a puppet, null and void.

As soon as the Voice gives the word, Joseph will break the truce and Eden's Gate will catch the Resistance unaware. At least... that's what the Voice expects to happen anyway.

Silva absolutely does not have a good time. After all, she's stuck in another cult that restricts her freedom and choices, plans on betraying her conditions, seeks to use very manipulation in the book to keep her with them while being unable to make contact with her friends and allies, is surrounded by people who either detest her or she feels absolute guilt for even being in the presence of (due to killing a lot of the followers) and being afraid to fight back in the off-chance that the truce is on.

Nadi and Alexander are the most sympathetic towards her. Faith isn't very sympathetic at first until she spends enough time with Silva that she jealously finds it unfair that Jacob gets to be married to someone who can rail her is such an ideal partner for her (which might lead to do something, le gasp... daring). John gets sympathetic when Nadi leaves him and he stumbles upon Silva in a very vulnerable state of mind. Jacob and Joseph though are the least sympathetic, with the Voice absolutely thriving in her misery.

Does this fic end happily, bittersweet or depressingly? I haven't decided, but it's one hell of a rollercoaster of emotions, that's for sure. This fic (not excluding The True Sinners) is the closest to a "Silva joins Eden's Gate" as you're going to get without completely changing her core values and beliefs.

Hope this is satisfactory!

#far cry the silver chronicles #far cry 5 #wip: a truce as null and void as yourself #oc: silva omar #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed #john seed #the seed family #the project at eden's gate #the resistance #fc5 the voice #oc: alexander khaos #oc: nadi sinclair #oc: kamski neon

[taran-chan]

I don't know what AU you made fits to have some spicy prompt but I think the "on a wednesday in a cafe" would be def good. So they had a vacation on a beach right? And Gil planned a surprised dinner and yeah after that?????? I refused to believe that nothing happened after that, so please make it happen...THANK YOU! Btw, you decide what you'd like to use on the list...but one thing I know for sure your work would be damn good!!!!!

[Cafe AU]

Set right after chapter 28. Because of course they fucked. OF COURSE.

29. “Touch me there. Right there.”

“As much as I want to take you right here,” his breath tickles her neck, “We should probably get inside before the resort staff show up to clean our dinner.”

“Hm?” She sighs, too wrapped up in her ecstasy to register anything but his “take you right here”, and his fingers are still under her dress, rubbing her clit in languid circles over her panties. He just made her come once but now her body is screaming for another. She whimpers when he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks her arousal off them.

“You taste so good.”

His words barely leave his mouth when she pulls him down for another bruising kiss. He indulgently lets her explore him with her lips and her hands. After all, he’s all hers. She bites his lips slightly when he stands up suddenly and carries her along. He starts walking along the moonlit beach, stopping every once in a while to share long kisses with the lady in his arms, resisting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and run like a caveman.

They finally reach their villa and as he carries her through the threshold, he tries not to dwell on the meaning of this act to prevent himself from collapsing; sometimes making love to her is enough to make him weak in the knees. Thena keeps kissing him, using one of her hands to push them away from the walls and toward their darkened bedroom.

Her back touches the mattress, her dress is quickly but gently removed by him before she feels him cup her breasts briefly, then trace down her body. She grabs his wrists to pause him and sits up to flip the light switch. She kneels on the bed in front of him. When did he get all naked? She runs her hands down his body like he did with hers a few seconds ago, tracing his lines and muscles.

“I want to see you,” she says and kisses him, swiftly changing their positions and in a blink of an eye, he’s on his back. She reaches back to tease his angry red cock, swirling the white dot leaking out of the head with her thumb to hear that sexy sound of his, mixing between a moan and a growl. There it is.

“You’re so…” His praise is cut short as she takes him in all at once. She presses her hands on his chest, her eyes roll back and she starts riding him almost immediately, so wet that she doesn’t have to wait. Seeing her in that state of pleasure, knowing he is the cause, something primal takes over him and he grits his teeth to keep it in check. The moment she slows down to kiss him, he takes hold of her hips and pulls her pink folds apart to look at where they’re joined.

“Fuck me,” he croaks, and thrusts up.

“Yes, yes,” she responds in earnest, taking his hands to press them against her breasts, swiveling her hips on every down stroke. He squeezes her nipples and she throws her head back, shaking and writhing. Her neck is exposed to his mouth and he latches on it, licking and sucking while she rides out her orgasm. Somehow he manages to stall his release, falling back on the pillows with her slick body drapes atop him, he keeps thrusting with that same speed.

“Again, come again,” his fingers dig into her hips and she arches back, urging him on. Her moans are so close to his ear, her scent fills his nose and his mouth tastes of her. He wishes he had more hands and another mouth. Thena, Thena, Thena.

He spreads her globes wider, his fingers accidentally brush her asshole and she nearly shrieks. She bears down on him, “Again. Touch me there.”

It takes him a second to realize what she’s saying. He presses his middle finger against her rectum once more, “Here?”

“Right there,” her voice comes out like a sob. Her mind goes blank, her body takes over. He thrusts and presses and squeezes until his vision blurs. They swallow each other’s moans, moving in tandem and folding into each other like two pieces of a puzzle.

Eventually, there’s only the sound of waves seeping through their room and their little satisfied sounds, murmuring sweet nothings to each other.

“You’re so full of surprises,” he finishes his sentence.

“I know,” she smiles against his lips.

“And maybe,” he lifts his head to kiss her shoulder, “I’m thinking about you trying that with me as well.”

“Really?” She cups his face to stop him from turning away. He’s blushing furiously when he nods.

“Now you’re full of surprises.”

She allows him to shut her up with another kiss. Her precious, darling Gilgamesh.

#i'm so tired i can barely see the screen #but when i say they're going to fUCK #I WILL MAKE THEM FUCK #GOOD NIGHT #thenamesh #thenamesh fanfic #thena x gilgamesh #thena #gilgamesh #eternals #funny how the main fic is mostly soft and sweet and fluffy #while they're fucking like animals here #help

[bokutoslittlebird]

Side Effects May Include...

Bokuto x reader

Author’s Note : I feel like this is long overdue

Warnings: medication [not specified], full nelson, f. masturbation, sex toys [vibrators], choking, doggy style, mating press, this is mostly smut, Princess as a pet name, creampie(s)

“Here is your prescription,” the pharmacist says. You thank her and take the bag. Taking out the piece of paper, you look over the side effects.

“May include high libido? Sure,” you laugh, though there’s no joy behind it. Your last prescription had the same side effects listed, but it lowered the libido. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but after entering a relationship with Bokuto, you found it to be bothersome. Bokuto was always bouncing off the walls with boundless energy and after the first time, he was obsessed. If he could, he’d have it every night.

You felt bad, thinking back on it. When he had asked, you always consented but you were tired after one round and found that it wasn’t as pleasureful as it could be. Bokuto noticed, of course, so you confessed about your.. predicament. He took it in stride, understanding that he couldn’t get his dick wet every night, but you let him hit it at least once a week. Yet, you would know when he went to the bathroom for 15 minutes, it was because he needed to rub one out. It made you feel like a bad girlfriend, unable to properly take care of him.

The new prescription didn’t have anything new, you felt like. Your libido was still the same, you weren’t eating more or less, and you didn’t feel the need to sleep all day from a headache. Bokuto understood, his smile as bright as it was when you guys got together when he sees you. However, he mentioned he had an away game over dinner that evening.

“It’s only down to Miyagi, so it’sa 2 day trip. I’ll leave early tomorrow mornin’ and be back late Saturday night,” he says around a mouthful of food. You laugh at that, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Alright, I’ll be here. I’ll get groceries Saturday afternoon, then,”

“Why’re ya laughin’?” He really doesn’t understand, which just makes you laugh harder.

“Swallow your food, you heathen! You look like a chipmunk,” you puff out your cheeks like his which has him giggling, having to turn away from you to swallow. Once he has loudly gulped down his food, he fully laughs and joins in with your laughter. A classic dinner.

The next day goes by without any issues, your body feeling a bit more active than when you were on your old prescription. Jogging around the neighborhood and deciding to exercise the extra energy off, you wonder if you’ll be more active to sleep with Bokuto. The next day, Saturday, however, you find yourself more than just a bit active.

The grocery run is in the morning and includes some extra things that weren’t on the list. After getting home and putting away the groceries, you rip into the packaging of the vibrator and batteries you bought. The extra vibrator you bought is off to the side, most likely to be used at a later date. You do push in the batteries, however, in case the other one’s batteries die. Before you head to the bedroom, you do reach out to grab the extra vibrator.

It’s late evening or early morning, you can’t tell. You’re exhausted from the marathon you’ve given your poor clit and underwear, two pairs stiff from the liquid they’ve absorbed. With the fan on, you lay on your bed with only Bokuto’s shirt to give you some decency, but even then it is too hot. Everything is too hot right now, you feel like, as your hand slides down your sides until it’s diving between your thighs and teasing your folds. You avoid your clit, feeling the desire to rub and tease it again, but you don’t. With the state you’re in, you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

Good thing you don’t have to worry.

The door opening is almost heavenly to you, knowing Bokuto’s home. The loud thud from his bag hitting the floor tells you he’s in a bad mood, most likely from a lost. He’s quiet the rest of the way, probably hoping to not disturb you. With you wide awake, you decide to give him something to walk into. Hand still between your legs, you pump them into you as soft moans leave your lips.

“He-llo?” His voice pitches a bit as he enters the room. Frozen in place, there he stands. Turning your head slightly towards him, you give off a lazy smile.

“I need your help, big boy,” you practically moan, feeling your hands squelching with the accumulated slick. He doesn’t hesitate, his frown and confusion turning to a smile and desire. He’s already shrugging off his clothes as he moves closer to the bed. Once there, he replaces your fingers with his own, rough and thick enough to reach inside where your fingers couldn’t. Your hand drops, the ache in your arm from the constant movement getting to you, but that’s not the focus. With a nearly three pumps of his fingers, you’re gushing and moaning as juices drip out of you, down his hand and his thick arm. The same hand that reaches up and pushes past your lips so you can taste yourself, his own body moving up as his cock bobs against your thigh.

“So needy and I’ve only been gone for two days,” he practically coos into your ear, one hand lining himself up to push into you. Words don’t come as easily now, your mind fuzzy from the orgasm that begins the long marathon of what’s coming. “All ready and prepped for me, too. Gonna let me relieve some stress, baby?”

“Please,” your whine of pleasure has him pushing into your depths, your cunt eagerly sucking him in. Mewls come from your lips as your back arches, ass pushing back into his hips to get more. “More, please,”

“You can’t take anymore,” he grunts, large arms coming to wind around your throat. The simple action prevents you from moving any farther down. “Your tiny cunt can’t take it, princess,”

“I can! I can!” broken moans and useless mewls, that’s all you hear from your lips. He doesn’t give you a chance to speak anymore, shoving his entire length into you and splitting you open, your body bouncing forward and into the pillows. The simple action has his tip bumping your cervix, making you feel as if he actually will split you in two as he fucks into your heat. Squelching and squishing noises come your cunt with each pump of his cock into you as he disappears inside, only to come back out. The wet slapping of his balls against your clit has your walls clamping down around him, sucking him in even more as he groans and releases your neck so your body is completely limp.

A murmur of something comes from him, but you don’t understand it. When his arms hook under yours and his fingers lace together behind your head, you let out a scream as he continues to jackhammer into you. “God, I’ve missed this,” he momentarily chuckles, his forehead resting against your back, sweat soaking through the fabric as he fucks you. His constant hip thrusting must be drawing him to a close, you wonder, but he continues to drive himself into you. A low moan comes from him as his hips still, against your ass as his own orgasm splashes against your walls, filling you up.

It’s not enough.

You’re still whining, backing your ass up for more as he goes to pull out. He does pull out, but he then flips you over to see the state of your face. Snot is smeared across your face and tears stain your cheeks with drool spilling from your mouth, but he thinks you’re more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen. He’s glad he came home to this.

Legs still spread wide open, your fingers dive between your legs to tease and rub yourself, collecting the sticky cum he just spilt into you. A growl comes from deep in his chest as he watches, eyes lidded as he realizes you’re still ready to go. You’re still unsatisfied, which is unusual for you, but he isn’t going to complain. The soft mewls from you and then loud moans as he sinks himself back into you. There’s hardly any resistance as he does, groaning as he throws his head back at the sensation. Moving his body forward, he picks up your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, keeping his arms on either side of you to keep your legs up.

With the change in position, he can somehow reach even deeper into you as he thrusts. Tip bumping against your cervix and every single push and pull out of you has your cunt spasming around him, sucking him in and gushing out more milky fluid. Bubbles form at the base of his cock, wetting the slick patch of hair around there. His lips find yours, stifling your moans as he pistons into you, headboard slamming against the wall as he uses every bit of energy to fuck you into a stupor. Even now, the only noises you can make are muffled mewls, startled gasps, and broken moans. Each noise gives him the courage to keep going, even as he feels his next orgasm coming, he forces it down until your squirting and screaming all over his cock.

It isn’t too long until you’re doing exactly that, nails digging into the back of his neck and his shoulder as you cry out, ending your orgasm with a mewling moan. When your walls finish fluttering around him, his cock sore from the sensations, then does he finally release inside you. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he moans as he hangs his head low, rutting against you as he pumps more and more of his cum into you.

Heavy breathing fills in the silence where there was the sounds of sex, both of you coming down from your high. He still has more energy in him, but he’s sure you’re tired and want to sleep. Removing his face from your neck, he looks down at you to see the aftermath of his merciless fucking. A small chuckle leaves him as he attempts to wipe the tears still spilling from your eyes away. His hips move, pulling himself from you, but you whine at the loss of contact.

“I gotta clean you up, you’re a mess,”

“I’m not.. I wan’ ag’in,” you manage to get out, legs locking him closer to you as your hands run down his chest. He flushed at that, as if he didn’t just finish railing you.

“Oh, you’re still wanting, uh, more? What happened?” He asks, but you’re too out of it to properly respond, pointing a finger at the pill bottle beside the bed. He seems to understand, but you don’t actually know. He does, however, push his thick cock back into you. “Alright, then we’ll go again. Wanna make you even more of a mess,”

You can’t say anything against that, tears already starting again as your mouth hangs open in a wanton moan. He has the decency to kiss you, stifling your moans as he rocks himself into you once more.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #BB.Kinky #Mr. Kōtarō #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #Bokuto x you #tw.choking #cw.mating press #cw.full nelson #Bokuto.Spice #tw.medicine #tw.prescription

[dracosathenaeum]

Great Love Story | Final Part | DM

#A/N: Apologies for the long wait, with what went down the other night and overall writers block this took far longer than I expected. I hope this is a satisfying ending for everyone who’s been reading so far!! Let me know what you thought of it overall!! Also this chapter is dedicated to @slytherinwh0re and Voldemort’s feet :3

Warnings: swearing, violence, food, mentions of strangling and sex

Word Count: 2,781

PART 1 | PART 2

Waking up alone in that empty bed had perhaps been worse than when Draco had broken up with you. You had left his room that time thinking he had left you because he had lost all feelings for you. This time, he had left even though you knew of his true feelings, feelings that he couldn’t hide. Jealousy was never easy to hide for Draco, but luckily for you it just showed that he still cared for you.

You had spent days after he had left you with nothing but second thoughts in your head, debating with yourself whether or not he was worth it. You could’ve walked away and let that last night be a mistake, leave it to be the final moment of closure between the two of you (if you could even call it closure).

But no, learning from mistakes apparently wasn’t an option for you.

You just wanted the truth, was what you told yourself as you wrapped a green tie around your neck; not revenge, just the truth.

“Remember all you have to do is walk past Draco and smile at me from across the hall a couple times. He’ll be able to connect the dots from that alone.”

The older Slytherin looked at you with a smirk on his face, “If I knew all I had to do was swap ties with you and walk past Malfoy to have someone do my potions essay for me I would’ve offered my services years ago.”  You had been lucky enough to have found (bribed) someone to help you pull the truth from Draco, even if you weren’t too fond of the person himself. You were up for playing the long game though you doubted Draco could resist interfering before long.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks, ruffling them up a little before unbuttoning both of your top buttons to make it seem more realistic. “You know, if you wanted to make it authentic, we could just actually get with each other? I wouldn’t mind rubbing it in Malfoys face that I got with his girl.”

Retracting your hands from his shirt, you grimaced, “This is enough, thank you Adrian.” You were only being polite since he was helping you out; the second you no longer needed him you would make sure he knew you’d never be interested in him.

“Come on, before they all finish eating before we’ve even gone in.” You walked into great hall, head held high and hand gripped in a clammy hold. As much you had hated how Draco’s hands had always been cold, you suddenly found yourself missing them greatly.

You let go of his hand and the both of you walked your separate directions but that was all you needed. You sat down with your friends and watched as Theo pointed out your tie and then the person who had yours. You didn’t even both keeping your gaze on their table for Draco’s reaction, something would come sooner or later.

“y/n, uh, are you sure this is a good idea? I know if sucks, but he’s clearly moved on, I don’t think making him jealous will work when he looks at Pansy like that.”

He hadn’t told you he loved you the other night, nor had he let you say it, but his love language was never with words. The way he held you, the careful touches and well-placed kisses, those were what made you believe there was still hope, and if not, at least an actual explanation rather than fucking you into the oblivion only to leave you before the sun was awake.

You knew he loved you still, but perhaps there were now two in his heart. Your eyes wondered back to the Slytherin table, expecting him to be glaring holes into the side of your head or arguing with the boy who had your tie around his neck, but no. He had his eyes trained on Pansy’s eyes, his fingers playing with a strand of her perfect hair. Grace was right, you had no chance when he was looking at Pansy with stars in his eyes. Though perhaps that was your answer itself. Your plan had been perfect, you had just executed it around the wrong people.

//

He had fucked up once, he wasn’t about to do so again; not when the stakes were so high. His one moment of jealousy causing him to lose control had only furthered his resolve to not do so again. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

He would only take partial blame though, his twit of a partner clearly wasn’t as sneaky as she had claimed to be, one slip up each was already more than allowed and although they both knew, it seemed only Draco was taking it seriously.

Talking to Pansy had been less than helpful, “She could’ve joined in.” being her only response, her red painted lips curling into a smile that made something in his stomach tighten. Perhaps he was the fool to expect more from her.

Her shortcomings and the disappointment he felt of his own lack of self-control had perhaps been the only thing to stop him from punching the shit eating grin off the rat who you had decided to use to pull a reaction from him.

He had been with you just three nights ago and he knew you, knew you inside and out. The hickeys on your neck were his marks and all 3 of you knew that; swapping ties with some poor sucker and ruffling his hair wasn’t going break him. Not by a long shot.

It had taken him everything that night outside the room of requirement to not push you in and take you until you remembered you could only feel that way for him, yet he had managed to spit out the word whore and swallow the instant regret, grimacing at the memory of your palm striking his face.

He had done all that to have his weak heart ruin it when he found you with Theo.

He had almost ruined everything.

But yet again his weak, traitorous heart failed him when he found himself with his fist across someone’s face.

//

You had kept your eyes trained on the food in front of you to prevent the temptation of causing yourself any more pain, instead working your brain on how best to get Draco alone and on how best to procure some veritaserum (was that even legal?).

Throwing back the last of your pumpkin juice, you gave a quick goodbye to your friends before you all but ran to the library in attempts to look for some answers. Well you had tried getting to the library; you had been barely halfway through the great hall when Adrian had seemingly appeared from thin air, his hand on your upper arm pulling you to a stop.

“So when do I get my compensation for this favour?”

You didn’t know what it was, but the way he looked and spoke to you had the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He had leant in, warm puffs of air blowing across your ear as he spoke to you. Not the kind that had you melting in Draco’s arm, but the kind that had you wanting to turn and run, but his bruising hold on your arm wasn’t about to let that happen.

“The Slytherin prince looks like he’s about to murder me, I think I deserve more than an essay. Let me fuck you and we’ll call it even.”

The joy in your chest from hearing that your plan had worked was quickly replaced with the most revoting feeling, you physically gagged and wondered why no one intervened as you had physically recoiled from him. Draco may not have been many people’s first picks, you wouldn’t try to hide his faults, but he at least had some respect and dignity.

Your mouth fell open, not sure if you should slap him across the face or swear at him until he got the point.

“The audacity-”

“If I ever see you within 100 meters of her again, I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to fuck again.” Yet again another Slytherin has seemingly appeared from thin air, cutting off you off before you could even say what you wanted to say. Adrian had been smart enough to let go of you the second he had heard Draco’s voice, but it didn’t make up for the fact he had been stupid enough to act.

You strode out the doors of the great hall as soon as you remembered how to use your legs, catching Draco’s his fist connecting with Adrian’s face out of the corner of your eye; the sickening crack of the collision was enough to bring a smile back on your face. That and the fact Draco had yet again shown his true colours, now you just needed to know why he was hell bent on hiding them and hurting you both.

You hadn’t realised how lost in your own thoughts you had been in until you found yourself in the courtyard with a blonde Ravenclaw waving happily at you.

“Hi y/n! Isn’t it beautiful out today? I wanted to take Pansy on a picnic, but you understand why that’s not quite possible yet.” You hadn’t expected to run into Luna so soon, though you avoiding her out of sheer embarrassment had definitely been a major factor of that.

“You’re okay being the ‘other woman’? Luna you deserve so much more than that.” The two of you weren’t particularly close (other than when you had seen her being sent to heaven by Pansy’s fingers), but she felt an obligation like any other person might’ve.

“Other woman? I thought Pansy said you two had made up again? They're just faking it for you-know-who. I guess Draco had to be stricter since he has his secret task, but it’s odd he’s taking so long to tell you.”

You blinked. You remembered how to breathe again and then the anger came.

“I have to go but thank you Luna, I owe you.” You didn’t have time to come up with a speech or a plan, you would just find him and do whatever your impulses led to.

You were going to make him repent for every second lost, for every ounce of heart ache you felt and then you’d have him beg for you, if you managed to not strangle him first that was.

You ended up pounding on the doors to the dungeons when he had been nowhere else. With each place you searched resulting with him not being there, your anger built, the frustration worse than it had ever been.

“Jeez woman, is someone dead?”

“No but with that look it looks like someone’s about to be.”

The doors had opened revealing a far too happy Pansy and Theo, clearly enjoying how mad you seemed to be. You didn’t waste a second, pushing past the both of them to see Draco sat casually on one of the leather sofas, clearly bragging about how he had just punched Adrian.

“You had no right!”

As if it wasn’t enough that The Dark Lord was walking around his home barefoot and threatening his family’s lives; his ex-girlfriend was now going to kill him. Well, he’d rather die by her hands than his any day.

“You still haven’t told her?” You hadn’t even heard Pansy come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. For everyone else it seemed like a jealous ex-girlfriend causing drama, a sharp look from Draco had sent everyone scrambling as he mumbled a silencing charm under his breath.

“If you want me to apologise for punching Pucey, I would rather you slap me again.” He was still lying to you. Your hands curled around his collar, pulling him up from his casual lounging across the sofa.

“Luna told me everything. You had no right to make that kind of decision for me. Who else knew?” You watched as the colour drained from his face, you turned to see Pansy, Theo and Blaise quickly avert their gazes. The three of them clearly thought they would be watching you shout at Draco for punching Adrian as they quickly found other places to be once they realised your true intentions.

“Can we actually talk now without you running off with your so-called girlfriend who has been dating another woman and without you only paying attention to me when you deem necessary?” Draco had slumped back onto the green leather, hand dragging over his face as he refused to meet your gaze again, the expression on his face a far cry from what it had been just moments ago.

“I can’t explain everything to you. Can you just trust that I’m doing what’s best for you? For us.”

If his voice hadn’t been so shaky, if his body hadn’t trembled like is had when he was 13 as you held him against you as he cried about the passing of his grandfather, you might not have decided to not push further.

So Harry was right, though some part of you had always known, after all in what world would Harry Potter make something like that up. You had just deluded yourself into thinking Draco wouldn’t be dragged into it. “I know Draco. You don’t have to say anything you can’t, but I know.”

His eyes whipped up to meet yours, clearly not expecting that response from you. You looked at him with the same fierce gaze he loved and for a second he thought you’d slap him again.

He thought you’d hit him and run or even worse, you’d stay.

“If this wasn’t the best possible option, I wouldn’t have chosen it, you have to understand that. It was better than the alternative of losing you and my parents. Do you know what he does to people? Do you know how he tears them apart? How he would rip your mind into shreds and then leave you with just enough life to watch him do the same to everyone else you care about.”

You stayed silent; you hadn’t thought about the bigger the picture this whole time, focusing only on you and your insignificant feelings.

“I refuse to put you at risk. If I had to make a choice; if I had to choose between saving you or my parents, I don’t know who I’d choose and that terrifies me. I can lose you and try to move on or find you again, but I can’t abandon my parents without signing their death warrants.” His words hurt. There was no masking that, but you knew he was right, he was making the most logical decision and you could not fault him for it, no matter how much your heart objected.

You just looked at him for a tense second, your brain trying to piece together what to say and what to think. Life had not prepared you for this moment.

“But the way you looked at her-“

“Looked at who?”

“Pansy.”

“I was imagining you.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, unsure if it was embarrassment, relief or anger. His fingers reached for yours, the familiarity of his wrapped around yours loosened the ball of nerves in your stomach just a little.

“Okay. Go.”

“What?” His fingers tightened their grip on your hand.

“I’ll wait until after the war; but you better find yourself on the right side. Just stay alive and I’ll find you.”

“And if I’m in Azkaban?” a voice so small you almost didn’t hear it.

“I don’t believe you could do anything horrific enough to end up in Azkaban; but even so, you better make some right choices because you hold our future in your hands Malfoy.”

He looked at you as though you had gone mad, and frankly you might’ve. After all, who would wait for their ex-boyfriend after finding out they were a death eater?

“You cannot be serious.”

“I would wait a lifetime for you.”

It had been those very words that had given him hope, something he didn’t think he would ever have again after taking the mark. He had not convinced his father to reconsider and that was something he would have to live for the rest of his life; but he had his mother. A mother’s love would prove yet again to be a saving grace.

The two of you may not have rebuilt what you had until years after, but when it came to making that all important choice, he had chosen the right one.

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @505weasleys @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @ccabian @tobarmaidswhodontcount @dray-cookies  @xuckduck @dreamyginny @dracofeltonmalfoy @lord-byron @inglourious-imagines @audreythehufflepuff @beiahadid @moonlightorbit @imonlyherecauseimbored @dracosgoodgirl @dreaming-about-fanfictions @goldenxreid @avengers-end-me @sad-bitch-h0ur @zhangyixingxing1 @yourenotafailureoverall @pastelpuffbar @miso-tang @pixiedustsupplyco @harry-and-draco-loves @tsukibaby @dracoswhore007 @hogwartslut @mischiefisbeingmanaged @raylovessarcasm @drxcomvlfx @dracosballs @standingandstaring @its-chickenwing-450 @iamproudtobeaslytherin @mischiefisbeingmanaged @pxroxide-prinxcesss @slytherinxraven @jinnbie @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend @Utzelh8 @gloryekaterina @capkatie @jquick-18 @imcedricdiggorys @osterfieldnholland @explxsion @big-galaxy-chaos @malfoycrave @softlyqoos @krazykendraisnotinsane @minsuuwu @lumlfy @mllzhxrrs44 @weasleyis0urking @slytherinwh0re @gwlvr @m3ssytrash @aubreyanna02 @akaaaaashiiii @carrobrumbrum @dracoswift @bitchybeatle @samnblack @dumspirospero-1 @dracomalfoyswifeee @sydnee-kom-spacekru​

Those who asked for part 3!: @dracoxmgg​ @em2604 @gabiconstellation​  @azkabanlexi​ @indieslytherin​ @sushiims @sincerlymalfoy​ 

#Draco x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #Draco Malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy one shot #draco one shot

[ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing]

Touch Starved (06 Whumptober)

This one got out of hand. Like so out of hand I don't even know what happened.

Prompt: bruised/touch-starved/hunger

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Touch-starvation: a condition that happens in some human species when you don’t get as much physical touch as you are used to. You crave contact but can’t interact with others for some reason. Long-term it can cause PTSD.

He’d never understood why it could be something so serious, never understood how it could lead to PTSD but looking down at his broken former padawan he thought he might finally understand.

Obi-Wan understood a few things about his relationship with Anakin. One of those things was that he wasn’t ever going to quite understand the man. The other was that sometimes he had to give him space to do the things that he didn’t understand. So when Anakin started sneaking out at night to go to the lower levels of Coruscant, Obi-Wan turned a blind eye to it.

And if Anakin came back a little bruised up with some money, Obi-Wan ignored that too. Pod racing wasn’t the worst thing that Anakin could be doing and Obi-Wan knew that the boy had to do something to get the pent-up energy out. It was an odd system but it was one that worked for the two of them.

Until it didn’t.

The day that Anakin turned eighteen he left that night and didn’t come home until early into the morning. That in and of itself wasn’t odd for him. What was odd was just how he seemed to have had a particularly rough race because he was more beat up than usual.

Still, Obi-Wan just assumed that it was bound to happen sometime. Anakin may have been using the force but even the force couldn’t prevent him from ever getting hurt. He’d merely gone to the Halls of Healing to quietly secure more bacta- as per usual- and left it outside his padawan’s door.

Then the next time the same thing happened. Anakin came limping in and he looked like he might have had another crash. Obi-Wan knew that they weren’t supposed to talk about it so he wasn’t sure how he should approach the whole thing. It was times like this that he wished he could have Qui-Gon’s guidance.

Soon it became a weekly occurrence. Anakin would come in, clearly in pain and unable to make eye contact with Obi-Wan and then he’d go to his room to sleep. Obi-Wan noticed that it seemed to be getting worse, not better and finally turned to the one person that he thought might be able to hear him.

“You must have been pretty desperate to come to me,” Quinlan told him, setting his cup down and gesturing for another drink.

“I’m aware that it’s not exactly...proper. What I’ve allowed Anakin to do and so I needed someone who was unconventional,” Obi-Wan told him, “I wouldn’t be here if I was truly concerned.”

“Alright how about I do some digging for you?” Quinlan asked, “My undercover mission in down in the lower levels anyway and I’m sure that there’s someone who has some information. There always is.”

Obi-Wan gave him a grateful smile.

---

Obi-Wan, of course, was sent on a mission before he could meet up with Quinlan again. He tried to convince the council that it would be best for him to remain planetside but with Anakin gaining his knighthood it wasn’t much of a resistance.

It was nearly a year before he’d returned and he was eager to get back to his and Anakin’s quarters and see the man again. It really had been too long.

But the second he touched down, instead of being greeted by the man in question, Quinlan himself stood at the end of the docking ramp.

“Quinlan?” Obi-Wan asked confused, “I thought you were under cover for at least a few more months. What’s happened? Is everything okay?”

Quinlan’s face was impassive, unreadable to even Obi-Wan and he felt a chill go down his spine.

“We need to talk,” he told him, “It’s important. I’ve told the council that my latest mission was a failure but the truth is I needed to talk to you as soon as possible. It’s about Anakin.”

And that’s when Obi-Wan found out what had changed since Anakin had turned eighteen.

“It’s a holo,” Quinlan said as he handed it over to him, “I- I couldn’t watch more than a few minutes of it. Just enough to confirm that it was Anakin, I fast-forwarded through most of it and then I shut it off. If you don’t manage to get him to stop I’ll have to report it to the council. It’s- I don’t even know what to say, Obi-Wan. He’s going to get himself killed.”

“He’d do something that awful? That you feel the need to report him to the council?” Obi-Wan asked his friend, feeling heartbroken.

Had Anakin done something worthy of getting himself thrown out of the order? What had his wayward padawan gotten himself into and was there any way that Obi-Wan could help him fix it?

“It’s not what he’s doing,” Quinlan told him quietly, “It’s what they’re doing to him.”

Obi-Wan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

---

The holo opens up and it takes a few seconds to focus. Anakin sits in the middle of the room, hands blindfolded, shirtless with his hands secured behind his back. As the holo recorder pans around and you can see that they are suppression cuffs.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat at the way Anakin’s back was marred, his mech arm forced straight while his flesh arm is contorted in a way that looked painful.

The holo recorder pans back to its original position and then a man is stepping behind Anakin with a knife in his hand. Anakin is pushed to the ground, his cheek hitting the ground with a sickening crack and he lets out a pained noise as the knife connects with his back, digging into his skin and ripping it open as it drags from just above his shoulder blade all the way down to his hips.

Obi-Wan turned the video off. He couldn’t watch it. Just the sight of someone touching his padawan made his stomach roll and he felt like he would be sick. He wanted to hunt the man down, wanted to make him pay for what he had done.

He didn’t want to watch the video.

He needed to know what happened.

He turned it back on and pressed the fast forward button, watching it speed through the recording of a man standing over him and cutting him over and over again. He is joined by another man who begins to do the same thing and then they both step away. He hit the play button again.

Anakin is breathing heavily and there is an unintelligible murmuring in the background. There are more voices in the background and then someone is behind Anakin. He drags his hand roughly against Anakin’s cut up back, smearing the pooling blood around before grabbing him by the neck and forcing him upright again. The hand squeezes and Anakin’s breathing is cut off.

The man leans down and whispers something in his ear before a second person comes into frame, gripping him by the chin and forcing him to tilt his head up. He slaps Anakin across the face and Anakin’s head snaps to the side. The other man releases him throat and he gasps for breath.

Obi-Wan turned if off again. His stomach felt like it was knotted up and bile began to gather in the back of his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t- he couldn’t-.

He hits the play button again.

A third person has come into frame and he’s got a wooden implement in his hand. The man in front of Anakin shoves a foot in between his thighs and kicks them apart roughly. The man behind him grips the front of his pants and he uses a knife to cut them open, leaving Anakin completely exposed as the third man steps in.

The cracking sound the wood makes against his hip sends Obi-Wan running for the fresher. The food that he had eaten on the way home makes a reappearance and he’s shaking so hard he can’t think. He pauses the recording as Anakin cries out, the man hitting him in the ribs for the second time. The cracking noise rings loudly in the small space and Obi-Wan would have thought something was broken.

He can’t do this. He can’t-. What in the kriff had Anakin been thinking? And this-.

Force this was stuff that Quinlan had seen before. He’d talked about how unsettling it had been and how nervous he’d been when he became desensitized to it. So what in the hell happened later in the video to make him look so sick?

He hit the play button again, fast-forwarding the holo as Anakin is struck over and over again, welts forming all over his skin as his neck is grabbed painfully and his airways cut off. At some point, someone must have ripped his pants the rest of the way because when he hits play they are tattered remains surrounding him.

“That’s enough,” the man in front barks out when Anakin screams at the last hit. His whole body is red and he’s panting heavily as if he can’t catch his breath. The man kneels and then his hands are moving as he grips Anakin’s-.

Obi-Wan had to pause it again and his chest was so tight that he felt like it was him who was being choked. Why would Anakin let anyone touch him like that after doing what they had just done to him.

There are tears running down Anakin’s face and sweat dripping down his skin. He lets out a pained sound and the holo recorder is adjusted so that you can see the man grabbing his cock and squeezing painfully. Anakin tries to shrink back but he’s gripped by the back of the neck and held in place.

He’s slapped across the face again and this time there’s blood dripping from his mouth. Someone grabs him by the hair and pulls until his face is looking at the ceiling. Someone grabs something and then his legs are being pushed apart further and someone kneels behind him, shoving a hand under him so he can-.

Obi-Wan really couldn’t watch anymore. He turned it off and threw the communicator across the floor. His head was swimming and his jaw was so tense he felt like he could have broken his teeth. He tried to stand but he was shaking so hard he had to sink back down to his knees.

The door to their quarters opened and soon Anakin was in front of him, hands gently grasping his shoulders and eyes searching to look for wounds.

“Obi-Wan are you okay? What happened?” he sounded panicked and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the pained noise that escaped his chest.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin said again and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the tears that started to escape. He wrapped his arms around Anakin and yanked, pulling the younger man into his arms as he started to sob.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sounded like a scared child and Obi-Wan-. He didn’t know how to even begin.

“Why?” he asked weakly and Anakin looked up from where he was tucked underneath his chin.

“Why what?”

“Why would you let them do that you? What the hell were you thinking?” Obi-Wan choked the words out.

Anakin paused, gathering his thoughts, and then cautiously, “What do you mean?”

“There’s a holorecording,” Obi-Wan looked down at him angrily, “Don’t you sit there and tell me you don’t know what I’m kriffing talking about Anakin Skywalker!”

He pulled the boy tighter to him, expecting him to run away but he just tucked in further to him, closing his eyes as he took a calming breath.

“I- It helps,” Anakin told him softly.

“Helps? You’re- you’re fucking bloody and your neck is bruised and he shoved a- without any- what the hell could that possibly help with Anakin?”

He was so angry all of the sudden. This beautiful, genius, prodigy had somehow thought that having this done to him was okay. He’d thought everything on the holo recording wasn’t a problem. Where the kark had Obi-Wan gone so wrong?

“Well, it hurts,” Anakin admitted, “But it’s- it’s after that helps.”

“After? After what? You pass out?” Obi-Wan snapped.

“No it’s the aftercare,” Anakin looked down, like he was ashamed to say it out loud as tears ran down his face, “When they take care of me after they’re done. Clean up the cuts and bruises, apply bacta, someone usually curls up against me and lays with me for a few hours.”

When Obi-Wan was younger he remembered that he’d taken an interest in force healing. He ended up never being particularly good at it but the medical knowledge he’d learned had never been forgotten.

He’d never understood some of the problems the book had mentioned but he thinks he understands at least one word better know.

Touch-starvation: a condition that happens in some human species when you don’t get as much physical touch as you are used to. You crave contact but can’t interact with others for some reason. Long-term it can cause PTSD.

He’d never understood why it could be something so serious, never understood how it could lead to PTSD but looking down at his broken former padawan he thought he might finally understand.

Anakin had never been accepted by his peers and the only people he really talked to were R2 and Obi-Wan. He would occasionally chat with others but it was clear he was uncomfortable with them.

Once he was no longer Obi-Wan’s padawan they’d spent less time together. They hadn’t had as much time to spar or even have dinner together. They’d found themselves often on other sides of the galaxy.

“You don’t have to do that to get people to hold you,” Obi-Wan whispered brokenly to him, “And I’m so sorry that you thought you had to.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Anakin said after a moment, “The Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments.”

“Oh dear one,” Obi-Wan told him softly, “That doesn’t mean that they can’t love or touch. All you had to do was ask.”

“But back on Tatooine any slaves caught together were punished,” Anakin told him weakly, “They weren’t allowed to touch each other in case one of them ended up pregnant and they couldn’t work.”

“But your mother-,” Obi-Wan said softly.

“Was punished,” Anakin told him, “You’re only allowed to have children when dictated by your master, and no matter how many times my mother tried to tell them she didn’t sleep with anyone they didn’t believe her.”

“You touched your mother,” Obi-Wan told him, “What about that?”

“It’s different, we were family,” Anakin told him, “Mother and son. And if Watto had wanted he could have demanded we stop. He just didn’t care.”

“You don’t have to be hurt for touch,” Obi-Wan promised him, “Please Anakin tell me you’ll stop this.”

“I-I can’t,” Anakin croaked, more tears falling, “I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Obi-Wan promised, “Any time you want you can come to me. I’ll give you everything you need. I promise.”

“Do you even know what you are agreeing to? Did you see what they do to me?” Anakin asked, looking up at him with wet eyes, bottom lip trembling.

“I won’t hit you,” Obi-Wan said firmly, “Not like that. But there are other ways to get the touch that you need. Less painful ways. There are usually no instruments and people are more gentle. And lube. For force’s sake Anakin you need to learn the importance of lube if I teach you nothing else for the rest of my life.”

“People do it all the time,” Anakin argued weakly, “How do you think I find people to do it to me?”

“With willing partners,” Obi-Wan said sternly, “Can you really tell me you like how it feels? Or do you just like that someone is touching you? That someone is with you?”

Anakin looked down, looking so guilty that Obi-Wan almost felt bad for him.

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan said softly, rubbing a hand up and down Anakin’s back, “There’s no need to feel guilty. I just need you to answer the question. Do you like it when they hit you or choke you? Does having dry sex turn you on? Because you weren’t hard the entire time.”

“No,” Anakin told him softly, “But the first person who I met said that it turned him on. And it- it got out of hand. He said that I couldn’t stop now. How do I even tell him that I don’t want to do it anymore if I’m not allowed to stop?”

“Leave that to me,” Obi-Wan said and cut off Anakin’s protest with a harsh glare, “I’ll be talking to Quinlan and you won’t be hearing from that man again. Now how do you feel about going to lay down for a bit? I’m feeling quite ill.”

Anakin looked a little lost for a second and then buried his head into Obi-Wan’s neck, body shaking slightly. Obi-Wan’s arms circled his body and he pulled him as close as he could.

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding muffled from where he was buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “I’ll go lay down.”

“I meant both of us, dear one,” Obi-Wan told him pressing a kiss to his temple, “Together.”

Anakin’s breath caught and then he let out a small strangled noise.

“Yes please,” he pleaded quietly and Obi-Wan gripped him tight, standing up and tucking a hand under Anakin’s knees to carry him to his bedroom. Without words, he slowly stripped Anakin naked, and then he was pulling his own clothes off.

Anakin stared as he did, seemingly unable to look away. When Obi-Wan pulled his underwear off Anakin’s dick twitched in interest and Anakin’s face turned bright red as he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Obi-Wan took his hands and led him to the bed, pulling the blankets down and herding him into it. He slipped under the blankets and opened his arms. Anakin happily buried himself into his arms, letting his thighs slip open so Obi-Wan could slip a knee in between them, his half-hard dick pressing against it.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologized even as his hips began to move minutely.

“Don’t be sorry,” Obi-Wan told him, “Press against me a little harder darling.”

Anakin couldn’t make eye contact with him but followed the directions, pressing more firmly against him and letting out a quiet, strangled noise.

“That’s it Ani,” Obi-Wan coached, letting his hands slid so that he could toy with one of his sensitive nipples. Anakin tucked his face into Obi-Wan’s neck as he continued to rut against his knee, cock fully hardening as he writhed under Obi-Wan’s hand as he toyed with his chest.

“Feels good,” Anakin breathed, “Feels so good.”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” Obi-Wan told him, “Why don’t you let me kiss you?”

Anakin’s face came back, bright red even as he eagerly tilted his head to allow Obi-Wan to catch his lips. The kiss was sloppy but what Anakin lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm, opening his mouth to allow Obi-Wan to push his tongue in and explore.

Anakin became bolder, rocking his cock against Obi-Wan’s thigh eagerly as Obi-Wan explored his body. Obi-Wan jerked back from the kiss and moaned as Anakin wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Oh darling,” Obi-Wan told him, “You don’t-.”

“I want to,” Anakin panted, “I-I didn’t think you would ever let me.”

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, and then he was grabbing the man by his hips and straddling him, leaning down to pull him into a filthy kiss. He pulled back and looked at Anakin.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want me,” Obi-Wan admitted, “But if you do I want you too.”

Anakin nodded frantically, pulling Obi-Wan back down into another kiss before breaking apart for air and wrapping his legs around his waist, lining up their cocks and thrusting.

Obi-Wan moaned and pressed back down, locking their lips together again. They rutted against each other in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t done since he was a padawan himself.

“You said that there’s a better way to have sex,” Anakin told him, “Please can you show me?”

Obi-Wan was scrambling for the lube before he’d even finished his sentence, unwinding Anakin’s legs from his waist and pushing his thighs apart as he uncapped the bottle.

“It may still be a bit uncomfortable but it’s not supposed to hurt,” Obi-Wan warned him, “You’ve got to tell me if it hurts you.”

“Okay,” Anakin agreed, and then he moaned loudly as Obi-Wan pressed a lubed finger into him, surprised at easily it slid in. He worked it and out as Anakin writhed underneath him and he pushed in a second one, mesmerized by how well Anakin took it as he began to scissor him open.

“That’s it, baby,” Obi-Wan said, running a hand through his hair, “You’re doing so good for me.”

Anakin let out a strangled noise at the pet name and planted his heels into the bed, rocking back and forth on Obi-Wan’s fingers. Obi-Wan dribbled more lube over his hole and then pressed a third one in, spreading them apart as far as he could.

“Oh, oh it feels so good,” Anakin panted, “Oh kriff. It feels so good.”

He sounded so surprised that Obi-Wan knew he’d be paying a certain person a special visit. The man who’d gotten Anakin to hurt himself, to let someone else hurt him.

But right now he had a needy, horny boy in his bed who was looking at him with glazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips. Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, pressing Anakin into another kiss as he lined up against his hole.

“Can I?” he asked quietly.

“Please,” Anakin pleaded and Obi-Wan pushed forwards, sliding into his hole with ease. Anakin let out a stangled noise and then he was clawing at Obi-Wan’s back as he began to thrust into him.

“Oh, oh it’s so good,” Anakin moaned, legs circling Obi-Wan’s waist again as the older man fucked into him. Obi-Wan gasped as Anakin opened his side of their bond, the sensations hitting him so hard that he could barely breathe.

It feels so good. Please don’t stop, please please stay, kriff, it’s so good Anakin is sure he’s going to dissolve into a puddle and Obi-Wan is warm against him and it’s so soft and gentle and it’s the best thing that he’s ever felt in his life and is this what it was supposed to feel like the hole time? I love you, I love you, I love you.

Obi-Wan’s sure Anakin is ripping his back apart as he aims and hits his prostate over and over, drawing out loud moans from him as he takes everything Obi-Wan gives him.

Anakin’s whole body tenses, back arching as he comes in between them, letting out a sob as he presses further into Obi-Wan. The clenching around his cock pushes Obi-Wan over the edge and he comes too, slamming on more time into Anakin’s slackened body and kissing him hard, teeth knocking together almost painfully.

Obi-Wan collapsed on Anakin as carefully as he could, nosing at his neck as they both came down from their high.

“That was amazing,” Anakin told him, “The best thing I ever felt.”

“Did you mean it?” Obi-Wan asked him, “That you love me?”

Anakin blinked, looking unsure at him as he bit his lip.

“Anakin please,” Obi-Wan said, pulling them so they were on their sides.

“Yes,” Anakin admitted, “I do.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again, “I love you too.”

He tucked Anakin’s face into his neck, “You’re mine now you know? No one else will ever hurt you.”

He had a feeling after he was finished with them they wouldn’t ever try.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #star wars #fic #consensual but not safe or sane #knifeplay #caning #slapping #choking #nsfwhump #obikin #obikin fanfiction #musicsoul1982

[alicedopey]

Dreams, Dreams, Dreams

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Ivar x plus-size reader

Genre: Modern AU, Smut, Romance

Words: 3034

Warnings: Smut, oral (giving and receiving), self-depreciation

Summary: Working with Ivar has triggered something in your mind, especially at night.

A/N: This was supposed to be posted for @flowers-in-your-hayr​ ‘s birthday but is now my contribution to her 650 followers celebration. (Moodboard is her own creation) Enjoy !

“Mr Ragnarsson, I…”

“Ivar, call me Ivar.”

It seemed accurate, since he was balls deep inside you.

“Ivar”. You were painting. “I’m going to come.”

Your words made him thrust deeper into you. “Then come, Y/N. Come on my cock.”

His hips were snapping madly. He was close to his release as well. You could tell by the way his brows were tightly knit or his mouth was making this sexy pout you liked so much.

You raised your hips to meet his, he viciously grabbed your thigh and dived even deeper into you, touching your cervix in the most delicious way. A scream fell from your lips.

Eyes wide opened, you woke up in your bed.  Sweat was dripping down your bed. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you rolled on the side to check your alarm and your eyes widened even more when you realized you had overslept again. Fifteen minutes was not much but it was still a lack of fifteen minutes in your morning routine before going to work.

You jumped out of bed and into the shower. The hot water helped your muscles relax. Those dreams were driving you crazy.

They had begun a few weeks ago when you were assigned to work with Ivar Ragnarsson on a very important contract. Since you spoke many languages fluently, the Ragnarssons considered you as one of the most valuable employees in their firm. When Bjorn had offered you to work alongside his little brother, you were flattered. Scared, but flattered. After all, Ivar had grown quite a reputation and the last thing you wanted was to end up like his personal punching ball.

Yet, working with him had revealed itself to be quite an adventure – and not in a bad way. Ivar was witty and passionate. He was sometimes treating you like an assistant, especially in front of his brothers but he was bearable most of the time.

The real problem were those dreams that had been haunting you during your sleep for a while now. Of course, they were mostly about sex: him taking you on your bed, in his office, against the wall, in his car…

The first time it happened you had laughed, figuring it was just a fantasy. He was quite a sight, after all. Second and third times were annoying. Then, it took place once or twice a week…and it started affecting the way you were behaving at work. A mere glance his way and you instantly became an awkward mess. Ivar would mostly get irritated, which made the situation worse and he ended up looking at you as if you had grown two heads.

If only you could make them stop but the more you wished for your crazy mind to leave you alone at night, the more you dreamt about him. So much that you had to admit to yourself you were falling for your boss. A boss who, according to flawless creatures he took to his bed, would certainly not glance at you for one second. You and your curves, you and your fat….no, definitely not his type you thought as you straightened your blouse over your wide hips a few minutes later before leaving for work.

Ivar was not there yet when you arrived at the office. You almost ran to the conference room in order to get everything ready for the presentation. It had to be perfect or he would throw a fit. Every brother would start yelling at the others and you would be blamed by Ivar in the end.

“Everything ready?”

You jumped, hearing Ivar’s voice and turned your eyes towards him. He was nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes”, you let out in a whisper.

His eyes scanned the room to check how you had everything settled. “You did well.”

“Thanks.” You squeaked nervously.

Ivar chuckled at your reaction. A shiver rand down your spine. “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine. We worked hard on this.”

If only he knew what you were really nervous about…

His brothers arrived shortly afterwards. Thankfully, Bjorn didn’t have the glorious idea to invite his mother to join the meeting or Ivar would have already been in a very bad mood.

They all took place around the table. You started the presentation to explain your line of work. Then, Ivar introduced the society you wanted to merge with and what the Ragnarssons’ firm could benefit from it.

As you listened to Ivar’s voice, you couldn’t help looking at his hand moving on the board. His strong firm hand…

“Sill here?”

You looked up, Ivar was eying you up and down, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you crossed your arms in front of you so that Ivar would not see too much of your curves.

“Yes. Your brother asked me to get some things ready for the big meeting with your uncle tomorrow. “

You thought he would leave after that but he kept staring at you while you stood there awkwardly.

“Need some help?”

“No, no…I’m almost done, thanks.” You stammered. Ivar never offered help to anyone.

He took a few steps towards you and took one of the files you had put on the meeting table to read it. “Looks like you worked hard. Bjorn will be glad.”

He smiled. A real smile that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He let go of the file which landed back on the table and set his eyes on you. The look he gave you made your heart flutter in your chest again. Lost in his mesmerizing eyes, you noticed he was closer when he put his hand on your hip. Your breath quickened. The heat radiating from his simple touch set your body on fire.

“I’m glad as well. Good job, Y/N.”

You did not hear the words, just watched his lips moving. Those plump tempting lips. Unable to resist the temptation to taste them, you kissed him. Ivar was not surprised. He kissed your back fiercely, his hand tightening its grip on your hip. He made you walk backwards until your thighs touched the table so you could lean on it.

You hiked up your skirt and spread your legs without even realizing it. Your body was acting on its own, all too eager to succumb to desire.

Nonetheless, Ivar did not move an inch and remained still as a statue. He was watching your body like a hawk as if he trying to remember every part of it. If only he could touch you the same way he was looking at you.

“Mr Ragnarsson, please.” You whimpered helplessly.

Ivar just smirked at you and played with the hem of your skirt. Your heart was beating so fast you had the feeling it would get out of your chest any minute now. You wanted him to put an end to your misery so desperately. He knew it and apparently loved watching you squirm, all needy and turned on.

When he finally sneaked his hand under your skirt, you bit your lip to prevent yourself from eliciting a sigh of relief.

His rough fat fingers stroked your skin until they finally reached your panties. His thumb touched your clit through the soft and soaked material. Your lower body lunched forwards, your teeth dug a little deeper in your lip.

“Oh, sweet Y/N…” Ivar whispered in a mocking tone. “Don’t damage those perfect luscious lips. That would be a shame.” He let go of his crutch, his body leaning a bit more on yours. Then, he inserted his thumb between your lips before saying. “Suck this. Pretend it’s my cock. Show me what you can do.”

Your lower lips clenched around nothing at his words. His other thumb pushed against your clit once more, eliciting a whimper to fall from your lips. You started sucking his finger greedily, pretending his cock instead as he had suggested.

“Good girl.” He praised lustfully. “I knew you could do it. Show me how well you can suck my cock.”

His motions on your sensitive nub accentuated and you took his thumb deeper in your mouth. Ivar groaned but ended up retrieving his fingers from your mouth. The two of you exchanged a lustful gaze before he attacked your lips with his mouth. His pace on your clit had become more urgent now. You pulled him against you and embraced him feverishly. Ivar kept kissing and pleasing you. Your body was completely on fire and yet, you were craving for more. So, you embraced him stronger, trying to get as much contact as possible between your two bodies.

Your lower body clenched, your breath quickened and you convulsed against him as you came. Ivar did not let go and made you ride your orgasm until you went limp in his arms. He chuckled, a deep chuckle that sent shivers running down your spine. “Ready for more?”

“If you are…” You whispered against his lips, congratulating yourself at the fact that he shivered because of it.

Emboldened, your palmed him through his trousers. Ivar groaned, pushing his cloth-covered dick into your hand. You rubbed him a few times before undoing his zipper and freeing his erected shaft. It was inviting to the touch, already glistening with pre-cum. But you did not touch him this time. Instead, you hiked up your skirt even higher to reveal your already damp panties that you led slid down your legs.

Ivar licked his lips. He was looking at your body as if he wanted to devour your body in one bite. A whimper left your lips. “Ivar, please…”

“Hmm?” He took his shaft in his hands and started pleasuring himself. “Did you want something?”

“You know what I want.”

“I want you to say it.” He rasped, still playing with himself. “Come on, Y/N. You can do it.”

You tried but no sound came out of your mouth. It was as if your brain did not want to give your body what it was craving.

“Y/N, I’m waiting.”

Once again, you opened your mouth to talk but did not produce any sound.

“Y/N, talk. Y/N ! Mrs Y/L/N !”

Ivar’s snapping voice made you startle. Several pairs of eyes were watching you; some expectant, some irritated. Well, Ivar was irritated.

You felt your cheeks heating under their stares, realizing you had been sex dreaming during a professional meeting.

“I’m sorry. I was…distracted.” Ivar’s glare intensified. He was probably going to strangle you. “You were saying?”

Bjorn explained patiently which points Ivar and you would have to work on. The meeting was adjourned after that. Ivar signaled for you to wait until everyone had left. Once they had, he closed the door and advanced towards you, each step making him grunt.

“We have some changes to do and we have to do them as fast as possible.”

He explained sharply. “Tonight. 7PM sharp. Your place. I’ll bring the wine.”

Then, he got out without waiting for an answer. You stared at his head until he had disappeared, realizing after a few minutes that your boss – who you too often dream about – was going to come to your place.

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. You left as soon as you could, went to the grocery store and started cooking dinner the moment you got back home. Once you were finished, you took a shower. Your door bell rang as you were just finishing getting dressed. You threw a last glance in the mirror to check your appearance: leggings and a flowery blouse, casual but not too much. You ran to the door and took a deep breath before opening it.

Ivar had played the casual card as well, wearing dark jeans, a white shirt and a dark jacket under his usual coat.

“Please come in, Mr. Ragnarsson.” You invited him to take off his coat. “I’m going to put this in my bedroom. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

On your way back to the living room, you took some glasses in the kitchen. Ivar was on the couch, the bottle of wine was already cracked open, the files were out. As usual, Ivar did not lose any time so you started working right away, only taking a small break to each the chicken, pasta and salad you had cooked.

“This was nice. It’s been a while since I ate some real food. Drawbacks of being a busy businessman. Guess I need a real woman in my life.”

He smiled genuinely, which made you heart flutter for a second as you remembered your dream from this morning.

“Is there a man in your life enjoying your food?”

You shook your head. “Just cooking for myself.”

“That’s a shame, if you ask me.” He replied casually. “Any man would be damn happy with this. Don’t even cook for my brother Hvitserk or he won’t leave your side.” He smiled again.

Your cheeks heated under the praise. You had heard things about Ivar’s charming power but he rarely showed it at work – which was for the best or you would always be as red as a tomato.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes.” You barely whispered and shook your head to clear your mind.

“Are you sure? Because you have been quite distracted lately, just like this morning during the meeting when you completely zoned out.”

“I’m just…tired.” You answered, slightly surprised Ivar was expressing some concern over someone else, especially an employee.

“Troubled sleep?”

Your eyes widened a little. His seemed to twinkle with something else than casual curiosity and you wondered if his question had a deeper meaning for a second before answering.

“You could say that.”

“Hmmm.” He stood up with the help of his crutch. “Well, since we are done here, I’m going let you get some sleep. May I have my coat back, please?”

His question made you realize you might have stared at him for a bit too long.

“Of course.” You almost jumped up from the couch and the both of you headed towards your bedroom.

Once there, you bent over to reach his coat on your bed. When you stood up, your back bumped against Ivar’s chest. Embarrassed, you turned around abruptly and handed him the piece of cloth to your boss. He took it gently from your hands before glancing at your bed.

“So, this is the famous place where you have been having all those troubling dreams.”

Your eyes raised up abruptly to meet his. “There are some things you should definitely not talk about some topics at work, where anybody could hear what you are saying.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. That sexy asshole knew everything about everyone even though you had mentioned it once to one of your closest coworkers.

“One could say you are obsessed. Well, your mind is at least.”

He gave you a teasing smirk which caused your heart to make a somersault in your chest.

“Mr Ragnarsson, I don’t know…”

“Shhh…” He put one finger on your lips and you were reminded of your earlier dream again. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, believe me. Quite the contrary.”

He took your chin between his fingers. His eyes intensely stared at yours.

“Tell me in your dreams, what are we doing in that bed? Are we fucking nice and slow? Or are you making me sweat for it?”

“It depends.” You gasped at your own words.

“Is that so?” Ivar hummed against your lips. “How many dreams did you have, you naughty girl?”

“A few.” You whispered before Ivar took your lips ravenously.

His hands slid down your body to squeeze your plush bottom and push it against your pelvis. In response, you embraced his upper body and dug your nails in his back.

He had awoken a fire in you, you were not even aware you possessed. It was more powerful than in the dreams and so much better that you did not want to it stop.

Breathless, Ivar’s lips left your own to attack your own. Your head fell backwards, heavy pants left your mouth.

“Mr. Ragnarsson, I...”

“Ivar.” He cut you off. “I definitely want you to call me Ivar when you come on my dick.”

That elicited a deep moan to leave your mouth. You dug your nails deeper in his skin and Ivar groaned.

“You were having one this morning, hmm? What were you doing in that dream?” He pushed his erected cock against your core. “Tell me.”

“You were…you were eating me out in the conference room.”

“I like that.” The tip of his tongue tickled your neck. “I can easily picture myself buried between, your thick thighs. What do you say we reenact some of those dreams?”

He was now rubbing himself against you.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered. Nothing was more important now than being under him, screaming his name.

He delicately pushed you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed and you had no choice but to fall on it.

Ivar took off his clothes, you hastily did the same. The two of you exchanged a fiery look, trying to remember every inch of the other’s body. For once, you did not feel ashamed of yours. On the contrary, Ivar’s eyes on you were making you feel like the most desirable human being on earth.

Ivar let his crutch fall on the floor and his naked body finally met yours. You became away right then and now of what was going to happen, meaning sleeping with your boss.

Ivar sensed your discomfort. “Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Nothing bad will come out of this. I’m going to make all your dreams come true.”

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @gearhead66​ @tephi101​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @ivaraddict​ @akamaiden​ @mblaqgi​ @captstefanbrandt​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ @elenarogersbarnes13

#vikings #fanfiction #ivar x plus size reader #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #flowers-in-your-hayr #Smut #romance

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Anything you write is so amazing so can I please request a marriage au and possibly mafia with Hyunjin. You can pick the plot!!

Hi! I’m not sure if you wanted smut, but I was inspired to write smut. Please enjoy.

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Hyunjin

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Warnings: Language and Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

It was cold when you pulled up to your expensive estate, bundled up in a luxurious coat and an evening gown that cost more than the car your driver had brought you home in. But no amount of money could improve your current mood, silently loathing your husband’s insistence, yet again, that you return home early and miss out on all the fun at your best performing club.

“Fuck him,” you decided aloud, slamming the door closed behind you as you marched along the neat sidewalk leading to the front door. 

For the past several weeks, you had done your best to run the club downtown where you entertained the wealthy patrons who enjoyed the rare alcohol selections from the bar. You were the reason why the club was so successful, but then everything seemingly changed overnight, and you would always blame the drunk, inconsiderate asshole who started a huge fight that had to be broken up by every security guard you had hired. 

By the time Hyunjin arrived on the scene, your husband was incensed, and he enforced a very strict curfew that prevented you from staying in the club past nightfall. “Extra security measures my ass,” you growled. “Who else is gonna run that place while he drives around town making all sorts of deals?”

He hadn’t always been that protective. When Hyunjin found you after taking over your father’s pathetic excuse for an organization, merging the two together, and sealing the deal by asking for permission to marry you - the gorgeous daughter who could certainly handle herself in a fight - he promised that you would be involved in every aspect of his underground mafia dealings.

But then the fight happened, and you were stuck at home bored out of your mind while you resented Hyunjin’s decision to keep you locked up like some kind of animal. The anger and frustration continued to grow each night you found yourself gazing out the window in the living room and wondered what was happening to the rest of the world while huge, well-armed security guards walked the premises of your home and kept you inside. “I’m not doing this anymore,” you decided, and you didn’t even bother to change out of your club skirt before planting yourself at the mini-bar in the kitchen where you would wait for Hyunjin to drag his ass back home. “I won’t stand down!”

It was a worthy declaration, and you were in the process of rehearing everything you wanted to say to Hyunjin, ruminating over the past few weeks of isolation while glancing at the fancy clock ticking away in the background. The hour had entered the early AM when you heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke on the phone to one of his subordinates. “We’ll meet with him this Friday,” Hyunjin said, and you watched him walk into the kitchen, startling when he realized you were still awake. “Yeah, I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

You smirked, waiting until he hung up the phone before speaking. “It’s about time you get here.”

“I had some things to take care of,” Hyunjin replied, and he must’ve been ignorant to your foul mood as he walked over to spread your thighs, making himself comfortable between them. “You’re still all dressed up.”

“We need to talk,” you said, deciding that it was best to get straight to the point.

“Sweetheart, what’s your problem?” Hyunjin asked, and you frowned as he started messing with the knot on his tie.

“My problem is you, Hyunjin,” you snapped, furious that he was being so nonchalant.

“Me?” Hyunjin scoffed. “What the hell did I do wrong?”

“Really?” You rolled your eyes at how dense he was. “Can’t think of anything?”

“Is it because I’m home so late?” he asked. “You know I work late sometimes, baby.”

“Quit calling me that,” you growled. “I’m talking about the new club. You know I’m the best person to run it, but you keep sending me home like I’m a kid or something.”

Hyunjin smiled. “Is that all? You’re precious to me, baby,” Hyunjin whispered, kissing you like you were something delicate to be treasured.

“My father taught me how to use a knife when I was ten,” you hissed against the seam of his mouth, pulling back to glare at Hyunjin. “I’m not a flower.”

Hyunjin scowled, and you realized that you had said something to piss him off, swallowing hard when he grabbed your arm even while trying to keep on a mask of false bravado. “I just wanted to come home and make love to my wife,” he said, and you winced when the hold around your arm grew tighter. “No,” he continued, and all previous semblances of softness were gone. “You want to be fucked, isn’t that right?”

“I want to be treated with respect!” you protested, yelping in pain when he forced you up out of your chair only to spin you around and bend your entire upper half over the counter.

“Is that right?” he growled into your ear. “You want me to let you do whatever the hell you want?”

“I can protect myself,” you said. “I did it before I met you!”

“But you have me now, sweetheart,” Hyunjin cooed, and you shivered when he started sliding your skirt down your thighs. 

“I don’t need you to boss me around,” you insisted, even though it was quite obvious that Hyunjin had had enough of your attitude.

“Speak like that to me again,” he snarled, landing a sharp slap to the flesh of your ass. 

“What are you gonna do?” you challenged him. “Fuck the fight out of me? Act like the big bad mafia boss who orders everyone around?”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered, and your next words were wiped clean around a moan when two of his fingers immediately penetrated your tight cunt. “Not so mouthy now,” Hyunjin said, and you whimpered at his tone, legs shaking at the fast movements of his fingers against your delicate walls, grazing that sweet spot with every stroke. 

“This isn’t fair!” you whined, but Hyunjin only laughed in response, wrapping his free arm around your waist as he brought you back against his chest, curling his fingers just right as he flexed his wrist with talented motions. 

“You’ll cum once like this from my fingers,” he said. “And then once from my cock.”

“Is this your way of controlling me?” you asked, wincing when he abruptly removed his fingers and allowed you to tall back down against the counter.

“It’s my way of loving you,” Hyunjin said, and you could hear the raw emotion in his voice. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Y/N.”

“Hyunjin...” you tried, but there was no finishing a coherent sentence when his fingers were back on your clit, drawing harsh little circles with his thumb while three fingers stretched the walls of your still-tender pussy, pushing you closer to the edge while murmuring sweet nothings into the hair at the back of your neck.

“Feel good for me,” he said, and you choked around a stuttered exhale when your first orgasm of the night left you reeling from Hyunjin’s dramatic shift to something soft and decidedly un-mafia-like. 

“Baby,” you sighed, allowing your forehead to touch the cool surface of the counter to alleviate the sweat building there, groaning when Hyunjin slid down your panties and started working apart his well-pressed suit pants. 

“You can cum again for me, Y/N,” Hyunjin said, and despite the ache in your core, you spread your legs even wider for him when he started to push his cock between your gaping walls, replacing the spaces where his fingers had previously brought you to the edge. “So tight,” Hyunjin moaned, and his hands held firmly to your hips as he started pounding immediately, leaving you no time to adjust; although, you were already prepared for him because of the mess he had made from finger fucking you into oblivion. 

“Shit your cock is amazing,” you cried, tossing back your head against the fresh waves of pleasure, closing your eyes as you took everything he was giving you.

It almost felt like a peace offering, especially when your husband was more than inclined to take you over any available surface of your lavish home. 

“Yeah?” Hyunjin grunted, and you could practically feel his proud smirk as he gave you all his attention, working his cock at different angles and listening for your reactions: staccato moans and dramatic cries of his name. “Tell me when you’re close.”

“Soon,” you promised him, arching your back just a little more because it gave Hyunjin better leverage to hit your g-spot on every thrust. 

He took the hint, grinding his hips against your ass and working you over as only someone who had spent years learning your body could. “Do you need me to touch you?” he asked and you nodded fiercely, unable to resist the tears that started to fall when one hand returned to your throbbing clitoris, giving it some much-needed attention as the rest of you started to fall apart.

“I’m coming!” you cried, looking back over at your husband and nearly losing it at the sight of his concentrated expression. Sweat falling down the sides of his hairline, eyes focused on the place where he was pumping his cock inside of you, expression shadowed by the same lust and desire curling at the place where he was working you with his cock and fingers. “Hyunjin!” you shouted, losing every single last reserve of your inhibitions as you came for a second time, panting and desperate for him as he gave two deep thrusts before his cum joined your own.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, pulling his cock from your ruined cunt as you held on to the counter with whatever strength you had left since your legs almost felt numb from his prior ministrations. “I got you,” he said, reaching down to collect you into his arms, holding you close as he brought you both upstairs to your shared bedroom.

You sighed at the feeling of the satin sheets against your lower back, reminders of the extravagances that his mafia dealings could afford you both, reaching over to wrap an arm around Hyunjin’s waist to keep him close. “I know that you love me, baby,” you said, drawing his attention. “But I still want to work the club at night.”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin growled, and you savored the wild, animalistic look in his gaze that promised you both a very long night.

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #mostlycompetent

[winchesterxxi]

My Favorite Ghost (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary:  What happens when a Resistance fighter gets trapped on Republican grounds and the man in charge of her torture is none other than her ex-husband Poe Dameron, former Leia Organa’s protegée turned First Order Admiral?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Force-sensitive reader, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, swearing, death.

A/N: Poe Dameron angst??? oof

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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The mission couldn’t’ve gone more astray.

It was a simple and easy task for a single person to carry out. Fly below the cruiser, get in, get their coordinates for their next targets and get out. Hand the coordinates over to Holdo, and prevent the StarDestroyer from blazing those planets.

Simple. Until it wasn’t.

It all went astray when a face scanner crossed your path. The blueprints didn’t mention any face scanner on that door. You panicked, trying to get your face to scan and let you in, resorting to fiddling with the wires on the side of the device looking left and right to make sure no one would catch you. Except they did.

4 stormtroopers rounded the corner and, hands full with a small screwdriver and needle-nose pliers, you couldn’t have moved fast enough to reach your blaster before they had pinned you against a wall, face against the cold metal.

Next thing you knew, a dark sac is being put over your head and right after your body is pulled away from the wall, a hard object hits the back of your head and you are knocked out cold.

You don’t know how long it had passed before you regained your senses, eyes struggling to open due to the immense brightness that was aimed at you from a light above.

You scanned around the room as much as your body allowed you to, for you soon enough came to find everything below your neck strapped to a metal platform that stood upright in the middle of the room you were in.

You could spot a few cameras pointed at you, and you could also hear steps and muffled voices outside as well as a distant and low rumble of the ship’s engines – you should be close to the cockpit. Most torture rooms tended to be. That way, the commanders and soldiers don’t need to walk far to deliver information obtained from those captured.

The thoughts in your head didn’t have much more time to run wild as the big double doors in front of you opened and gave way to a silhouette to step into the room before they closed again behind them.

For as much as you forced your eyes to read them, it was practically impossible because of the light pointed directly at your face, coming from above. All you could see was the bottom of their uniform – knee-high dark leather boots and black pants, either a general or an admiral, and the clenched fists in shiny leather gloves - as they stood in front of you, hidden from the light.

“Are we getting this over with anytime soon?” you question bitterly while resting your head back and closing your eyes. You’d be damned if you were going to show any fear to anyone within this ship.

“Although I won’t blame you for just standing there, I know I’m pretty pleasant to look at.” Confidence, fake it until you make it. Or until you piss someone off, which is a better description of what you were aiming at.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your blood runs cold.

Head snapping back down, facing forward, your jaw tightens and your whole body tenses at the reverberation of those words against the metal walls. And that is when the person you dreaded the most to run into again, in your whole life, steps into your sight.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you think your mind is deceiving you.

This isn’t him.

Those eyes do not belong to the face in front of you. They aren’t his eyes. His eyes had a constant sparkle in them with the life that bubbled inside of him; they were big, brown, kind and caring.

These are hard, dark and cold. Lifeless.

“Poe.”

Despite his name leaving your lips in something little above a whisper, you know that name no longer refers to him. Not in the way it was engraved in your mind. Poe was your husband, the lively and witty resistance pilot that Leia Organa had assured you were meant for you. And maybe he was. But this isn’t Poe. This is someone – something else.

“It’s Admiral Dameron.”

You grith your teeth together and have to muster all the strength in you to not let your bottom lip quiver at the coldness and lack of emotion in his voice, so distant from that you were used to in the sweet nothings that would reach your ears in the mornings you’d wake up in his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask him, voice tainted with both pain and disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were the one caught in our ground, trying to break a facial recognition system. What exactly were you looking to get?”

“It was outside the navigation system room. Take a wild guess.” Your anger-powered wit met a halt, as a sharp pain ran through your whole body with great intensity.

A pained screamed was let out of your mouth, muscles tensing and thrusting your body forward against the metal boundaries that enveloped your ankles, thighs, wrists, middle and upper torso.

Once the sting stopped, you threw your body back, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath, as Poe circled where you stood.

“Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere.” He taunts from behind you.

“Because being honest and cooperative will get me a congratulatory snack after this, right?” you weren’t about to give in, and apparently neither was he as another violent ache ran across your body, this time for a few more seconds longer.

“You really don’t listen to people’s warnings, do you?” he snaps his intimidating eyes at you while coming back around to stand in front of you.

“I had a good teacher.” You manage to jeer through gritted teeth. That gets a reaction out of it. One that would be imperceptible to the common person, unless they had been married and in love with them, so much so that they picked up on every little quirk.

“You do realize you’re not getting out of here alive.” It wasn’t even a question, more so of a statement as his lowered head allowed his eyes to look up at you through his lashes, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the realization, and you have to blink away the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

“You would do that? Kill me?”

“It’s protocol. Resistance scum dies, either if they deliver a confession or not.”

“You won’t even say my name, but you’re okay with having your hands being the ones that put an end to my life?” he doesn’t answer, breaking the wall he had put up for a fraction of a second when his eyes wander around, away from yours. “And Resistance scum? Wow, your ego really is something.”

“Shut up.”

“The only scum I see here is the one standing in front of me, who betrayed friends and family to save his own ass”

“I SAID SHUT UP.” His left-hand slams against the metal behind you, just a few inches away from your face and you flinch, eyes closing at the sudden movement, the fleeting possibility that he could hit you crossing your mind.

When you open your eyes you see his face just inches away from yours, heavy breathing fanning against your face, his hand still rested next to you.

Your eyes are distant, looking somewhere above his other shoulder as you shift your right hand, as much as the restraints allowed, palm facing upward and fingers spread. Between your faces surges a ring, attached to a silver chain that surrounded your neck.

You bite the inside of your cheek and a single tear spills out of your right eye, his attention remaining on the object floating in front of him.

That is his mother’s wedding ring, or rather, it was, until the day he gently put it around your neck, the day that was now so far behind in time that, together with the present circumstances almost felt like a fever dream. He had insisted that you both didn’t need wedding rings as the simple act of you wearing his necklace, the one everyone knew was destined to rest against the sternum of whoever he’d end up deciding on spending the rest of his life with, was enough.

And you never took it off. Not after he started to seem more distanced. Not when he’d started to snap at you. Not when the fights started. Not when you started to sleep in separate rooms. Not when he turned on you mid-mission and started to shoot at your X-Wing. Not when, moments after that, he turned his X-Wing around, killing a few other Resistance pilots. And not when he flew away, following the First Order fleet.

You never took it off.

Closing your eyes, you relax your hand and let the ring fall back against your chest and Poe pushes his hand off the metal, taking a few steps back. He looked… ill at ease.

“What happened, Poe?” you whisper, voice begging for an answer, his name sounding on your lips for the second time today, the most it’s had in little over a year. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t correct the way you address him.

“There was never a chance of us winning. We were outnumbered, our technology wasn’t as advanced… It was either surrender or joining them.” Something tightens inside of you at the way he used us and them to reference the Resistance and the First Order. He was referring to himself as Resistance. Probably unconscious. You decide against pointing it out or correcting him.

“And you chose to join them.” You slowly nod “Was it all so meaningless to you that you could just turn your back on us?”

“The Resistance will forever be doomed.” He utters bitterly.

“You wanna talk about forever?” you question, eyes red and glazed with how wet they were, and he stares at you.

“THIS –“ you raise your voice and look down, motioning to the ring resting against your flight suit, before looking back up to meet his gaze “WAS FOREVER.”

Your words and the silence that followed hung between the two of you almost as making the air in the room thicker by the second.

“Do you ever even think about me anymore? Or does your every thought revolve around these people?” tears sting your eyes once more and you take a shaky breath in “Every morning when I wake up I still expect to have my cheek resting against your chest, but there’s only a pillow. When I go to Leia I expect you to be standing next to her, planning some sort of strategy. When I fly in my X-Wing I still expect the commlink to crackle with your voice. When I see BB rolling my way, I still look up in hopes of seeing you walk up behind him. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. But I also love you in equal measure.”

Poe remains immobile, standing a few feet ahead of you, the device that controls the electric shocks tightly fisted in his left hand and he is looking at you, straight ahead. At this point, you are panting with the effort of mustering out all of those words and feelings through the tears and sobs that rattle your whole body.

“Somehow, after all the shit you’ve done, I still love-”

You don’t manage to finish those words, the second time you’d be uttering them in over a year as they die on your lips and are replaced by a glass-shattering scream of pain, as the sharp burst of electricity travels your body once more during a much more excruciatingly long time. All your muscles tense as much as they can and you forget what breathing feels like.

Once Poe’s thumb slides of the control button, your whole body jerks forward, panting, tears falling to the ground beneath your hovering feet, head down. Despite the rational choice being to shut up you need to say this. You know that he is still there, somewhere, below all that darkness that took hold of him. He is still there. And you need to get him out.

“I still lo-“

Poe’s thumb slides over the button once again, inflicting another piercing wave of torture to your already spent body. Something is, indeed, still in him as this time around he can’t bring himself to look at you and at the way the electricity is slowly but surely bringing you closer to a point of no return. And despite the tears blurring your vision, this fact doesn’t go unnoticed.

After he relieves the pressure on the button, your body no longer jolts forward but instead goes limp against the metal board, the back of your head resting against it, mouth starting to taste like blood, which peeks through the corner of your mouth.

“You won’t even look.” You struggle to get the words out, voice coming out raspy and hurting as it passes through your throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least be man enough to look at me when you do it.”

Your whole body is pulsing with aftershocks of pain and you are struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Just when you are about to close your eyes, just to rest them, you told yourself, you hear Poe’s voice for the first time since he told you the Resistance was doomed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” Your brain can’t quite comprehend if by this he means the torture or all the events that you crying about earlier, the ones that led him to join the First Order.

Either way, the answer would be the same.

“Yes.”

Jaw tensing, Poe pushes the button in his fist one more time, watching your body light up with the blue electric jolts that ran your full height up and down, side to side, travelling through each of your limbs eating away at the remaining life in your body. His lips were trembling just the slightest and his eyes, lit with the image in front of him, started to be glazed by tears.

He didn’t let the button go for much longer than he previously had, being completely lost inside his mind and out of it at the realisation that even after all the shit he put you through and the hurt he caused you, you still loved him.

It wasn’t until he stopped seeing you squirm that his finger release the button and your body fell completely limp against the metal, head falling down, the metal loops preventing you from falling forwards completely. He hesitated in stepping closer to you, scared of you moving or rather not, he wasn’t sure.

But his heart gave in to the breaking of itself when the latter possibility turned out to be the truth.

You weren’t moving.

You weren’t breathing.

There was blood dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

You were gone.

And he did it.

A trembling hand of his came up to push your head back against the platform holding you.

That’s when he took a good look at your lifeless face, and a shaky exhale left his lungs.

Oh, how he still loved you.

He wanted to cradle your face in his hands a lay a kiss against your forehead, run his knuckles against your cheek and wipe the blood away from your soft lips.

But they were watching him. The cameras were pointed at him and the microphones were on, preventing him from freely displaying any kind of affection towards you.

Blinking away the tears and trying to keep his body language as much stoic as possible, his gloved hand reaches up for the ring that hung from the chain draped around your neck and he pulled it down, breaking the silver link as it released the hold it had on you.

He slid the ring into the chest pocket of his uniform before walking away, towards the door, and out. Leaving the lifeless body of the only person who could ever allow him redemption behind, limp and broken.

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[cherry-draws]

[Master Kohga x Reader] Fantasy Night

Warning : this One-Shot contains sensuality, but not sexual scenes or violence.

Here is my first x Reader text, I'm not fond of this kind of litterature so I decided to do one in my way. I hope you'll enjoy it, do not hesitate to leave me a comment if you have any question or suggestion !

It had been a while since you joined the yiga clan, and you had gotten used to it faster than you thought. Contrary to what rumors might suggest, it didn't sound so much like a cult, although headed by a leader, you were more like family. As a simple yiga footsoldier, you spent your days on a mission, roaming the endless and verdant plains of Hyrule. Fearing that you would be reprimanded if you came home empty-handed, you often made arrangements to bring back food or rupies. During your days off, you liked to alternate rest time and activities with your circle of friends.

That evening, a party was organized to celebrate an achievement: your clan had managed to steal the Thunder Helm, a sacred relic belonging to a people living in a distant city in the desert. It was a unique object, allowing protection against lightning, and which could be resold at a high price.

Some members, whith coocking habilities, had been busy preparing multitudes of banana-based dishes: pancakes, fruit chutneys, salads, cakes, etc.

Everyone was gathered, including your leader, Master Kohga, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The party had dragged on until late at night, and while most of the members had gone to bed, the more reckless ended up dozing off in the kitchen.

You were part of it, except you weren't asleep, you were pretending. You glanced fondly at a sleeping footsoldier in the arms of an officer. It didn't surprise you, indeed, you had suspected them of feeling an attraction to each other for some time.

You too were secretly attracted to someone from your clan. Lying on your side, your head resting on your left arm, your right leg drawn back to your chest, you watched in silence, almost holding your breath. You hadn't told anyone about it, you did everything to show nothing. The truth is, you weren't interested in the slim, skinny bodies of your fellow underlings, nor did you look at the sturdy, muscular figures of the officers, who tended to impress you. No, the one you were interested in, was him.

Kohga was different on this point. He had generous shapes, and that's what appealed to you.

You took a certain pleasure in watching him as he slept, full, his back leaning against the wall, his chin tucked slightly towards his chest. Those slender arms, that flat chest, that round belly, those broad thighs ... How many times had you wanted to get closer and curl up against his body, how many times had you hoped for a brief physical contact? Still, you didn't feel like you had romantic feelings, it turned out mostly to be respect mixed with fascination. You were just physically attracted to him, and you considered it guilty pleasure. Of course, everyone in the clan thought Kohga was charismatic, but did everyone else feel the same? A part of you was telling yourself that it wasn't normal to be attracted to this type of physique, that you shouldn't think of such things to your leader, but you quickly pushed the idea out of your mind. . You especially wanted to take advantage of this moment to watch it with impunity, while you gradually let yourself fall asleep.

Some kinds of complaints pulled you out of your drowsiness, you tried to ignore them at first, but their persistence prevented you from going back to sleep. Intrigued by their provenance, you stood up awkwardly, leaning on your hands and shook your head. Once you woke up, you realized Kohga was no longer sleeping. He was standing in a position of some discomfort and moaning loudly, which made you feel worried.

"M-Master Kohga ... is everything okay?" Are you hurt?

-Yes, I think .... that I am a victim of indigestion ... I should never have eaten so much tonight ...》

Looking around the surroundings, you realized that you were completely alone, the last members had probably ended up going to bed. You think for a few seconds about what to do.

“Um ... I think you'd be better in your bed. I ... if you wish, I can take you in your bedroom.

-Impossible, I can't even ... get up ... I'm going to stay here until it's over. Do not worry about me. You can go to sleep ... ah, ouch!”

Seeing him bend over in pain, for the first time since you joined the clan, you refused to obey. Your instinct seemed to take over your reason, and your body began to act on its own.You knelt down and grabbed his left hand in your hands, then your eyes met. Your heartbeat quickened slightly as you felt a new sensation run through your body. This physical contact, that you dreamed of so much had just happened, and you saw your chance to get closer.

"Sorry. I cannot leave if you are not feeling well. Let me heal you. I know a method, I know how to practice a kind of massage ... if it doesn't work, I will go and tell the others. Please.

-I'm really in pain ... do what you want but do not stay there doing nothing, it's an order!

-Shhh ... Calm down. All I need is you to relax and let me go. I promise you'll feel better soon. "

The impulses, which you tried to hide from the eyes of others since the day they manifested themselves, were felt more and more. At this point, you had no other choice but to let them express themselves.

The next moment you were leaning over Kohga, your face barely three feet from his, massaging his belly. Your hands were back and forth in circular movements, your thin fingers tapped lightly or bent back from time to time. You could easily feel his skin stretched through the fabrics, you weren't content just to contemplate his curves, now you could touch them. You had to restrain yourself to not undo his belts. Could you afford it? Was he going to let you do it without showing opposition ? Did you just wanted to keep its from hurting, or was it just to give yourself more freedom? On the other hand, you liked to see those bands of leather tightening more and more against his flesh, and seeing them burst due to pressure would probably not have displeased you. Your right leg came to rest between his, as you gently pressed your face against his stomach, kissing it.

Yoou didn't even knew if you were taking care of your leader, or if you let your fantasies taking life. The feeling of desire that burned deep in your being had now changed to an indescribable pleasure. You were alone, Kohga offered no resistance, and this was perhaps your one and only opportunity to gain access to this bulky body. In all your life, you had never felt so good, so relaxed, so free.

A whisper from him brought you back to reality for a brief moment. Intrigued, you leaned forward, almost lying beside him.

“I feel better, the pain has eased ... I think I'll be able to go back to sleep now.

-If you don't mind, I would like to stay by your side for the night. If you ever feel bad again, I would like to be sure that I can intervene quickly.

-Well, if you want to and if that can reassure you, okay. You just have to lie down here.

-Thank you. Rest Master Kogha, I will watch over you. "

After a long time devoted to this massage, you end up snuggling up against his body. You leaned your head against his chest, resting your right leg against his thick thighs, and hugged his plump belly with your slender arm. His steady heartbeat and barely audible breathing calmed you. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, which made you shiver slightly, but gave you a sense of security. Regardless of whether he made the gesture consciously or not, you could finally sleep peacefully.

Entwined.

When you woke up, you weren't sure where you were anymore. When your eye got used to the brightness of the room, you realized that you were completely alone in the kitchen. You got up slowly feeling as though you had slept wonderfully. Then everything suddenly comes back to you. You looked your way, walking nervously through the hallway. What if everything you've been through was nothing but the fruit of a fantasy? If this really happened, what were the consequences going to be? What would happen if Master Kohga realized what you had done? Lost in your thoughts, you heard a voice calling you.

"Hey, oh, Y / N, what are you doing, are you daydreaming?"

-Who me ? Oh uh excuse me Mahy, I was lost in my thoughts, what were you telling me?

-In fact, I need you to do me a favor. We were about to get ready for the day when several members started complaining about having a stomach ache, some even didn't want to get up. It hurts me seeing them like this, so I decided to prepare a medecine to relieve them. I would like you to boil some water, during that time I will check if there are any herbs left in the storeroom.

-Of course, you can count on me! "

You picked up an abandoned torch that you brought up to a lighted candelabra before returning with a determined step towards the kitchen and lighting the fire under the container. Finally, you poured in a generous amount of water and knelt down while waiting for Mahy to return. If you were focused on your task, in your head, everything was jostling. The fact that some of your comrades were also sick indicated that what you had not dreamed. Of course, you didn't regret what hhappened, but you feared possible consequences. You heard the quick and lively footsteps of your friend coming towards you. She appeared, her arms laden with grass.

“The harvest was good ! We're going to boil this for a few minutes and it'll be good. Thanks for your help anyway.

-That's not much. "

After filling the bottles with still boiling herbal tea, you headed for the dormitories. You walked back, still preoccupied with the events, hoping no one noticed anything. Once you got to the rooms, you stopped.

"Hello Mahy, hello Y / N, there you are finally. I decided to give you a day off for today, since most of the soldiers are sick. But I want it to be a lesson to you, next time avoid stuffing yourselves like boboklins!

-Do not worry about that Master Kohga, we have prepared herbal tea, soon everything would be nothing else but a bad memory!

-Well, I see we have two young doctors in our clan, that's good news! Y / N, when you're done, I'd like to talk to you.

-You can go now, I can take care of the distribution by myself, you have already helped me a lot.

-M… Thank you, Mahy. "

Anxious, you started to follow your leader. You walked hesitantly, apprehensively, holding your hands nervously. You took the opportunity to discreetly contemplate his back, remembering that last night, you snuggled up against this thick body. Once away from the rest of the group, he stopped and turned in his direction. You straighten up, standing straight, as if you were about to receive an order.

"Y / N, yesterday, I fell asleep before I had time to thank you, that's why I summoned you. You stayed awake for a long time just to heal me. So ... thank you for everything you've done.

-Oh uh ... if it was just that ... it's nothing, I couldn't sit back and do nothing. By the way, I wanted to ask you ... I ... did I hurt you yesterday? I'm not used to massages so I wondered. "

-Hey? But not at all, it makes me feel way better, as a proof the pain is gone. Looks like you've been doing this for years! Besides, why don't you practice this technique on our members, it would cure them ? Or then, there is only the strong, the burly, the one, the only, the Master Kogha, who deserved this ? "

There was silence for several long seconds. Then he burst out laughing.

“Mwahahahaha! I'm kidding, don't worry ! Now you can go. "

You left the room feeling happy, light, peaceful, as if you had relieved your conscience. You could now enjoy your day, and think back to that night without feeling guilty.

#fanfiction #fanfic #tloz breath of the wild #breath of the wild #botw yiga #botw fanfiction #one shot #yiga clan #master kohga #kohga #english translation #x reader #my fanfiction #fantasy night

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Prompt: Skizz discovers Impulse is a traitor early?

well hello there :D hope this is as good as whatever you had in mind! cuz i dont think i got exactly that lol

...

You whisper to impulseSV: We need to talk. ASAP.

Skizz paces back and forth in his room, anxiously waiting for a response. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw yet; even though he knows he probably should, he just doesn’t want to face it. Something inside him is telling him it’s not true, that there has to be a reasonable explanation. He can’t spread this information before he finds out whether or not it’s true.

impulseSV whispers to you: okay, meet me at my villager hole

Skizz jumps into action and rushes out of the building. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, which might be a big mistake.

He runs all the way to Impulse’s villager hole and bursts in through the non-trapped door. But Impulse is nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Skizz spots a trapdoor with a ladder visible under it that wasn’t there before. He carefully climbs down the ladder and finds himself in an almost pitch black underground room, about the same size as the interior of Dogwarts.

Skizz walks out into the middle of the room, looking around in awe.

“Skizz,” comes Impulse’s voice.

“Gah!” Skizz nearly jumps out of his skin. “Don’t do that! Where are you?”

Impulse materialises out of the darkness. “Hey. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I did. I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Skizz takes a deep breath. “I, uh… I saw you earlier today, meeting with the crastle people. I didn’t hear much of what you said, just something about “gaining their trust”. That… Impulse, you’re on our side, right? You’re just pretending to be friends with them?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” replies Impulse easily. Too easily.

Skizz frowns. “Impulse, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not betraying us for THEM.”

“I’m not betraying anyone,” says Impulse defensively. “You know me; I’m not capable of that. You… do know that, right?”

“I…” Skizz stares at his best friend. “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. But now… I think you’re capable of anything. Tell me the truth, Impulse. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“You’re doing it again! Switching on the ol’ Impulse charm and saying exactly what the other person wants to hear. You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy. I’ve known you far too long.” Skizz narrows his eyes. “You’re a mole. You pretended to join us but you’re on their side and you’re gonna betray us for them. Am I wrong?”

After a moment, Impulse wordlessly turns away, all but confirming Skizz’s suspicions.

Skizz’s stomach drops. “Oh, god… I trusted you! You- You traitor!”

Impulse sighs. “This is just like you, Skizz: running over here to confront me alone cuz you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom that you might’ve been wrong about me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this world changes people? That you can’t truly trust anyone but yourself?”

“No!” Skizz snaps. “I trust Ren and I trust Martyn and Etho and I DID trust YOU!”

“And that’s gonna be your downfall.”

He suddenly shoves Skizz to the ground. Before his friend can react, Impulse brings his foot down hard on Skizz’s ankle.

Skizz screams as they both hear it crack. The pain is immense; it’s definitely fractured, if not broken completely.

“See the thing is, I can’t have you running around blabbing about this to anyone,” Impulse says casually. “But at the same time, I can’t just kill you because that would show up in chat. So I think it’s time I test out my brand new trap and see how deadly it is.”

Tears of pain and anger fall from Skizz’s eyes as he stares into the cold, harsh eyes of the man he used to call his brother. “Wh-Why, Impulse…? Why would you d-do this to me…?”

Impulse just shrugs. “I’m just playing the game, Skizz. Sorry.”

With that, he turns and walks away into the darkness.

“Impulse!” cries Skizz, his vision completely obscured by tears. “IMPULSE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

He hears the click of a lever being pulled in the darkness, followed immediately by pistons moving. His breathing quickening, he rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, but as soon as he puts weight on his left ankle, he knows he’s not going to be able to use it.

A familiar growl pierces the air, causing him to freeze.

A zombie.

More growls.

A LOT of zombies.

The first one that appears through the darkness nearly gives him a heart attack. He manages to slice it down with his sword, but by then, three more have ganged up on him. Trying to back away, he finds himself completely surrounded by a horde of at least two dozen zombies.

“NO!” he screams. “HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

The zombies’ claws dig into his skin, and at least two of them manage to bite his arms. Players are able to resist being turned into a zombie through a bite but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Accidentally putting weight on his injured ankle again, Skizz collapses to the ground and curls up in a ball, trying to protect his head and neck. Impulse was clever; he hurt Skizz’s ankle on purpose so he could neither run nor fight for long.

This is it for him. They’re going to kill him.

All of a sudden, a battle yell echoes in the darkness, followed immediately by the sound of zombies taking damage. Multiple zombies taking damage at once. Someone’s come to save him.

The zombies attacking Skizz move away to target this new threat, but they’re no match for whoever it is. Within a minute, all the zombies in the room have been eliminated.

“Skizz!” comes Etho’s voice. “Are you okay?!”

Severely weakened and on the verge of passing out from the pain, Skizz looks up at his friend, unable to muster the words to reply. His vision is swimming, but he can just about see two figures kneeling beside him.

Etho and Martyn. They came to save him.

That’s the last thought in his mind before he passes out.

…

“-is definitely broken. But not like he fell from somewhere and landed on it. More like someone stomped on it until it broke.”

“What?! Who would do something like that?!” “I don’t know. Hopefully Skizz can shed some light on this when he wakes up. Oh my goodness, Ren, you should have seen how many zombies there were. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“So… you’re saying someone tried to murder Skizzle? Broke his ankle so he couldn’t get away from the zombies?”

“Yeah, I think so. And we think it was Impulse, too. Etho and I didn’t see anyone else around except him, and the hole was under his villager place as well, so we- Oh, look! I think he’s awake!”

Skizz lets out a quiet groan, his eyes slowly opening. As his vision adjusts to the light, he registers Martyn and Ren by his side, and the interior of his bedroom back at Dogwarts behind them.

“Hey, Skizzles,” says Ren gently. “How are you feeling?”

Blinking slowly, Skizz looks down at his arms and finds them covered in bandages. Beyond them, he can see his ankle elevated in a cast. Nothing hurts anymore, to his relief.

“Alive,” he rasps. “For good or for bad.”

“What happened?” Martyn asks. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Skizz tries to suppress a sniffle at the traumatic memory. “It was Impulse. He’s a backstabbing traitor and he tried to kill me to stop me from telling you.”

Ren gasps, but Martyn just shakes his head, an anguished expression on his face. “I should’ve known. There were so many little clues but he explained them away so well, I just…”

“He had us all fooled,” Ren murmurs. “I’m just glad we managed to get to you before he got away with murdering you. If he had, we’d never have known, and we would’ve continued to trust him.”

“How- How did you find me?” Skizz asks. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Etho and I went looking for you cuz we hadn’t seen you in a while,” replies Martyn. “We just happened to be at Impulse’s villager pen when we heard you screaming. Luckily, Impulse had just left and I don’t think he heard you, or he might have tried to kill us too.”

His upper lip curls in an expression of disgust. “We bumped into him right there and it was like nothing was wrong. It makes me sick to think that he was up there chit-chatting to us about his villagers like everything was fine, knowing full well he’d literally just abandoned you to be murdered by a horde of zombies. That goes beyond 3rd Life; that’s… that’s just pure evil.”

Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, something’s not right with him anymore. Whoever that was… it’s not my Impulse. Something’s changed him.”

“Well, either way, at least you’re alive and his treachery has been exposed,” Ren says. “And we will take our revenge on him for trying to kill you. As soon as he’s red, we take him down.”

“Why wait?” asks Martyn, frowning. “Why not kill him now, while he’s on yellow?”

“Because if we do, he’ll harbour a grudge and try to take revenge on US for killing him once he’s red. And if yellow life Impulse is THAT dangerous, imagine what he can do on red. It’s better to wait and come up with a plan so when he becomes red, we can take him out immediately and prevent further carnage.”

A shiver runs down Skizz’s spine. It feels horrible to be discussing killing his best friend when they had been so close only hours before. Despite everything Impulse has done, he doesn’t actually want him to die. He still loves his brother, no matter what.

Even though he’d love nothing more than to punch him in his stupid face right now.

“Skizz?” says Martyn softly. “You okay?”

Skizz clears his throat. “Y-Yeah. I think I will be.”

Eventually.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #impulsesv #rendog #etho #vaunna’s requests

[hrtiu]

Written for a prompt from @flybynite19. It’s not as fluffy as I initially intended, but I hope you like it!

“So she ran out this way?” Riyo asked, pointing down the imposing entrance to the RCMO.

Commander Fox nodded. “Yes, ma’am. She climbed onto that statue, then ran along the top of the monument.”

“The monument?”

Commander Fox pointed to the long slab of bronze-colored stone running the length of the promenade. “The First Battle Memorial, commemorating the soldiers lost during the Battle of Geonosis.”

“Ah,” Riyo said. She vaguely recalled when the monument had been constructed. It had been mostly intended to increase morale among the soldiers, and very few senators had found the time to attend the dedication ceremony. Riyo herself had been busy in a budget meeting that day, if she recalled correctly.

She paced down the long walkway, looking the scene of the crime up and down. She took notes on her datapad, not sure exactly what Chancellor Palpatine was looking for but determined to present a thorough report.

“And security along this walkway, what was it like that night?” Riyo asked.

“There’s a 24-hour watch along the main entrance, but we sent out extra forces as soon as Tano’s escape was discovered,” Fox said.

“I see.”

Riyo continued on down the promenade, her eyes lingering on the blaster marks that marred the brand-new memorial. She reached the pillars that marked the end of the walkway and jotted down a few notes on the large canons flanking the exit. Palpatine wanted to know how their security forces had failed to contain their Jedi prisoner and what measures might be taken to prevent this sort of thing happening again. It was a difficult problem, considering how invincible the Jedi seemed at times. What was the Republic to do if they ever found themselves at odds with their Generals?

She turned back to the Commander. “And these canons, are they-” She cut herself off, seeing that he was all the way back at the monument. He stood, hands behind his back, helmet tilted up at the imposing slab of rock.

Riyo jogged her way back to him. “...Commander?”

Fox started, the first time she’d seen him anything but composed and immovable. “Senator Chuchi, my apologies. How can I help you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Would you mind telling me some more about this memorial?”

“It’s Geonosian stone, installed only a month ago. It gave the convict more cover to make her escape-”

“No, I mean, what does the memorial mean to you?” Riyo asked.

“Oh! Well…” he hesitated, then took a step towards the monument, resting his hand against the smooth stone. “It lists the designations of the fallen.”

“Designations?” Riyo moved a few steps closer to the Commander.

“Yes. My designation is CC-1010. We receive our designations before our names.” His finger glided along one of the names—designations, she mentally corrected—carved into the ruddy stone.

CC-1011, it read.

“Was he a friend of yours?” Riyo asked, her voice going soft.

“He was my twin.”

Riyo allowed herself a small chuckle. “Aren’t you all twins, in a way?”

She couldn’t see his expression behind his helmet, but she imagined a modest smile creeping up his face. “In a way, but 1011 was my tubemate. Like identical twins, we started out as one, then became two.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, though of course she couldn’t. Not really. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“That’s war, ma’am. Better that we be sacrificed than an innocent civilian.”

Riyo resisted the urge to grimace, an acrid taste filling her mouth. “Don’t say that,” she said, though wasn’t that exactly what the Senate believed?

“It’s a soldier’s job to live by the truth, even if it is difficult to accept.”

“Can’t it be our job to change things, if the truth is… isn’t right?”

Fox turned his head to her, his helmet tilted slightly to the side. “That might be a senator’s job, ma’am, but it’s not mine.”

A strained silence filled the space between them, and the weight of her office sat heavy on Riyo’s shoulders. He was right. Not everyone was in a position to change things, but she was. She needed to make the most of that.

Her chin dipped towards her chest, and she twisted with the gold bangle that hung around her wrist. “I swear I will do my best to make things right, Commander.”

“And I will do my best to protect the Republic, ma’am.” He nodded sharply to her and turned from the monument, apparently ready to move on. Riyo’s hand blocked his path, stopping him before he could pass her by.

“Forgive me, Commander, but would you mind telling me more about your twin? CC-1011?” she said. She worried that she was crossing some boundary of politeness, but the columns of nondescript numbers lining the stone monument in front of her begged for recognition, cried out for some kind of illumination.

Fox hesitated a moment, then turned slowly back towards the slab. “Certainly, ma’am.” His helmet tilted down towards his feet, and his hands met behind his back. He often rested with his hands behind his back in a loose parade rest, but Riyo noticed that this time his gloved fingers fidgeted with a nervous energy.

“CC-1011’s name was Fox,” the Commander said at length.

“But… isn’t that your name?” Riyo asked, wondering if there was some quirk of clone culture she was missing.

“It is now, but when I was a cadet I went by Jackal. 

Riyo wrinkled her nose. Jackal sounded like the name of a brash, boundary-pushing firebrand, not someone with the poise and control of Fox.

“I know what you’re thinking, but back then the name fit. Then after Geonosis, I lost him. I took his name, in his honor, and tried to… Tried to be more like him. Tried to get over myself and my di’kut attitude.”

Fox looked back up at the monument, his hands falling to his sides. His helmet tipped far back, revealing a narrow sliver of skin just above the black bodysuit that covered most of his body. Riyo thought about CC-1011, the first Fox, and wondered where his body was now. Probably abandoned somewhere on that wretched planet. And yet here Fox stood, genetically identical and determined to carry on his brother’s legacy. If he took off his helmet, she’d see the departed Fox’s face.

It was a stupid idea, but Riyo had built her career on doing what she felt was right, prudence be damned. She took a step towards him and reached a delicate hand out, her fingers clasping loosely around his gloved hand.

He flinched. “Senator Chuchi-”

“Please allow me this small gesture of comfort, Commander. It is the duty of all sentient life to care for each other in our grief.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looked down at their joined hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

His fingers slowly tightened around hers, and she smiled, squeezing lightly back.

“I never had the pleasure of meeting CC-1011, but from what I know of you, there is no doubt in my mind he would be proud that you carry his name,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, his voice barely loud enough for his helmet to pick up.

They stood there for several minutes, the silence solemn but accompanied by a deep sense of peace. Riyo took the time to read each designation, noting the ones in sequential order and wondering if they’d been friends—wondering if they’d died together. She made sure to repeat each designation in her mind, to send a prayer of gratitude and mourning up to the heavens in their honor.

“Commander?” The faint sound of radio chatter coming from Fox’s helmet interrupted their vigil.

“Fox here,” Fox said, his fingers sliding from Riyo’s as he stepped back from the monument.

Riyo turned towards the end of the promenade, her hand feeling oddly light and bereft. A warm flush rose to her cheeks, though she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if whoever had commed the Commander had even seen them together.

Fox walked back to Riyo. “Apologies, Senator. The Chancellor needs me for a briefing. If you’d like to continue your inspection Commander Stone can relieve-”

“There’s no need,” Riyo said. “I’ve seen quite enough, thank you.”

“Very well. I’ll accompany you back to your transport.”

“Thank you.”

They walked together back to the docking bay where her driver waited for her, and Riyo felt strangely awkward walking alongside the Commander, unsure of what to say.

“I’m grateful for your help today, Commander Fox,” she settled on eventually, though the words felt thick and strange on her tongue.

“I’m not sure I did much to assist, but you’re welcome, ma’am.”

“No it was… illuminating.”

He nodded in response.

Riyo twisted the bangle around her wrist again. She opened her mouth, then shut it, then gave the bangle another good rotation. “I should have come here earlier.”

“I made the earliest time available to you, senator, but if there’s anything else I could have done-”

“No, I mean, I should have gone to the monument’s dedication. I should have seen this earlier.”

“Oh.” Fox said, silent for a long moment as they walked. “Well, you’re here now, ma’am. That means a lot.”

They arrived at the docking bay, and Riyo’s driver hopped out of the speeder to open the door for her. Fox held a hand out to her to help her into her seat, the gesture unnecessary but appreciated. She sat down in the speeder and looked up at him, imagining for a moment that she could see his piercing eyes through the opaque black of his visor. “I won’t make that mistake again, Commander. I promise.”

He nodded to her, and she knew his eyes were locked on hers. “I know, ma’am.”

#foxiyo #fanfic #commander fox #riyo chuchi #tcw #star wars

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: A Mess

Poly! Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,497

Warnings: Slightly angsty 

Summary: Reader has been struggling with magic and feels miserable. Caleb and Pogue try their best to be loving and supportive. Requested by / in collaboration with @dhampiravidi​

Caleb trudged inside the apartment, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes. Taking his gray coat off, he followed the smell of spices into the kitchen. Chili, if Caleb had to guess. 

Pogue must’ve had dinner duty for the night. He made the best chili out of the three of them so they only ever ate it if he was the one making it. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the counter, his hair pulled back into a half ponytail, adjusting a setting on the slower cooker that was plugged into the wall.

“Chili?” Caleb asked, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“Chili,” Pogue confirmed. He turned towards Caleb, frowning when he saw Caleb massaging small circles above his eyes. “Another headache?”

Caleb sighed, lowering his hand. “Just a little one. They assigned me to that new case on Tuesday and I’ve been pouring over old court dockets ever since.”

Pogue didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to—the worry was clear on his face. Caleb was quick to smile and reassure him. “It’s like I said, just a small headache. No need to blow it out of proportion, Po.”

The longhaired boy wasn’t the least bit convinced, but didn’t push the lawyer further. Caleb was great at looking after people, but not so much when it came to himself. And if Pogue called him out on it, he would only draw further into himself. The key was to not bring it up and tread subtlety.  

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” He sat down at the table, but not before sliding a bottle of aspirin over to Caleb who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

They quickly updated each other on their days. One of firm clerks was inviting everyone out for drinks next week: Caleb had said he’d get back to them after checking with the significant others. A real nice ’68 Chevy Nova had been brought into the garage for restoration: Pogue was excited to pop the hood and get to work. But it wasn’t long until Caleb noticed who was absent from the table.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s never been able to resist the smell of chili.”

“Rough day. She was crying when I got home and she’s been shut in the bedroom since then.”

“Crying? Why was she—” He cut off immediately. He knew, they both knew. You weren’t really a crier. In all of the time the three of you had been together, there was only one thing they had ever known you to cry about. “She tried Using again today.”

Pogue nodded, a severe frown on his face. He looked down the hall at the shut door, no sounds or light coming from the other side of it. “Looked like it to me. The spell book was already put away when I walked in, but she left the candles out.”

Caleb released a long breath and stared unseeing at the ceiling. How could he fix this?

Magic was a touchy subject. All three of you were witches and even if he and Pogue weren’t regularly Using, they didn’t impose their rules on you. After all, your coven had struck a different deal to gain their magic so they didn’t have to worry about you sacrificing pieces of your life whenever you tried to use it. But that didn’t mean they didn’t worry about you.

Using was…hit or miss with you. You had no problem performing large, high-powered magic. You had no problem blowing thing up or putting an entire bar full of people under a spell. But as time went on, it became apparent that you did not have the same ease when it came to more precise magic. And your struggles weren’t from lack of dedication or practice (you gave even Caleb a run for his money when it came to studying.)

The guys were incredibly supportive of your continued magic studies, but recently your mood had shifted and not for the better. After putting in so much time and effort, and still not having much to show for it, Using was starting to bring some emotional baggage to the surface. Seeing as how you’d been upset in the room for hours, they thought you were close to some kind of break.

Caleb tapped the table with his knuckles. “I’m going to check on Y/N and see if I can get them to talk to me.” He scraped his chair back and moved down the hall. He didn’t wait for Pogue’s reaction. He couldn’t. When someone he loved was struggling his immediate response was to talk with them and find a solution to the problem.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door—he knew that you wouldn’t answer anyway and that you had likely locked the door with no intention of opening it. Eyes went black briefly as he Used magic to override the lock. Normally, his rule was to only employ magic in times of emergency, but this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“Hi Y/N,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. You were on your spot curled in the middle of the bed, body hidden under the comforter. “How was your day?” Your silence didn’t phase him as he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. “I heard you were practicing today, that’s great. I’ve always loved your drive.”

Still, nothing but silence from you.

He sighed and pulled the covers down so he could at least see your face. Your eyes were red and puffy but the crying was paused for the moment, your whole face lax as you stared through him rather than at him.

“Hey, now,” he whispered pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Come on, I want to hear about it.”

You pushed him away and he was relieved to see some reaction from reaction, even if it was annoyance.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Caleb,” you stressed turning away from him. He tried to bring you back into his arms but backed off when he felt you stiffen up.

“It can’t be that bad.” More silence. “Just tell me. Please.”

The strong emotions that you had been trying so hard to hide exploded out of you and you were so upset that it wasn’t until after you finished that you realized how aggressive it sounded. “You want to know? Fine! It was a telekinesis spell. A simple freaking telekinesis spell. All I wanted to do was lift the frame that had our anniversary photo in it and guess what! And I ended up smashing it to pieces instead! There was glass everywhere and the photo is ruined, happy?”

You felt tears swimming in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you didn’t know, and you ran with a huff to lock yourself in the bathroom. No matter what kind of tears they were, you refused to cry in front of Caleb. That would only make him more overbearing than he was currently.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered as the tears started to flow. “All this time and you still mess up a basic spell. How can you call yourself a girlfriend to two Sons of Ipswich if you can’t even get that right?”

Caleb remained on the bed, looking at the bathroom door in grief. He had meant to help you and it seemed that he only made things worse. Sighing in frustration at himself he put himself back together and went back to Pogue who was still tending to dinner. There had to be something he could do, he just wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Well,” Pogue prompted, “How did it go?”

“Disastrous,” Caleb admitted. “I just ended up making Y/N even more upset and now they’re locked in the bathroom.”

“Hmm, that’s rough man.” A timer on the counter beeped, signaling that the chili was officially done cooking. Pogue took some ceramic bowls from the cabinet. “For both of you. Try not to get worked up about—Y/N will come around when they’re ready.”

“I am not worked up,” Caleb insisted. Pogue merely raised a brow and slid a full bowl to him. “Okay, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“I knew it,” he smirked, pushing his long hair out of his face. “You can’t help it; it’s just who you are, man. But in this case, I’m telling you that you have to be patient.”

He sat down and took a bite from his own bowl, saw the worried look on the other man’s face. “I’m telling you. I learned this the hard way back in high school. Sometimes space is the best approach,” he said with a mouth full of food.

“If you’re sure…”

The two of them kept good on their unspoken promise and didn’t ask you about the incident again. You all still shared the same bed but even there they made sure to keep their hands to themselves, which you were grateful for. You didn’t feel the need for sex given your mental state. Just knowing that they were on either side of you was enough.

A part of you felt terrible for shutting them out, but an even bigger part of you couldn’t get over the hurt. Rationally, you knew that breaking the frame wasn’t that big of a deal. The guys would definitely fix it for you if you asked. Emotionally, however, you were a wreck. Productivity was at zero for the week. During the day you felt void, your brain numb. The night was worse, racing thoughts you couldn’t control as the continuous rewind of the incident playing on loop, preventing you from getting decent sleep.

Life was a mess. You were a mess. But there wasn’t much you felt like you could do about it; you were just hoping that you’d sort yourself out soon.

It was difficult for them for watching you going through it, especially for Caleb. He kept his word and didn’t question you like he had the first night but he hovering, struggling to master the need to make it better for you. Needless to say, he fed you breakfast in bed everyday that week.

Pogue was just as concerned. He never outright confronted you about it, that just wasn’t his style, but he did the dishes every day without complaint. He fidgeted more, even by Pogue standards. And unbeknownst to you, he was playing his guitar, something that normally happened when he was trying to sort something big out.

Somehow, he managed to hide it from you but he wasn’t so lucky with Caleb.

He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “How long have you been playing this one? I like it.”

“This week,” Pogue shrugged trying to downplay it. “The cords were easy to throw together.”

Caleb hummed and went to sit in front of the other man. Pogue started playing the tune again and Caleb found himself humming along after a few minutes. He wore a contemplative look. “Does it have lyrics?”

Pogue shook his head side to side, tossing his hair. “Nope. You know I’m not a good poet.”

Caleb nodded again, the same thoughtful expression on his face. “What if I wrote them?”

***

At the end of the week, you were slightly more recovered. The failure and unconference were still there but Pogue had convinced you to shower with him earlier in the day. It was nice to have clean hair and soft skin again. And you even managed to clear out your emails which always felt like an accomplishment.

“Hey, do you guys want to order takeout for dinner?” You walked out to the living room looking for your boyfriends. You were getting hungry and in the mood to socialize a bit more. For a second, you thought they were both out until you saw them out on the small porch. “Hello?”

They turned around with smiles on their faces and bid you to join them. It was a mild spring day and the setting sun left just enough heat to still be comfortable while sitting outside.

“Are you feeling okay?” Caleb asked, excitement just beneath the surface.

“A little better,” you answered eying the acoustic guitar in Pogue’s hands. Takeout cartons were arranged around the small glass table. “So…what’s all this?”

Pogue cleared his throat. “We wrote a song.”

“You…wrote a song?”

“A song for you,” Caleb further explained. “We’ve been working on it for you these past couple of days. Do you want to listen to it?”

“Y-yeah,” you said startled. This had not been what you were expecting when you came outside.

Pogue started strumming immediately, having already tuned beforehand. The pace was slower but purposeful, his fingers moving gracefully over the fretboard. Your heart fluttered, the notes sounding beautiful. Then Caleb started to sing. He was a graceful as ever, his voice blending in perfectly with Pogue’s guitar playing.

You were positively flushing. As romantic as the two of them were, they had never serenaded you before. In fact, no one had ever serenaded you. You were flattered. Giddy. Dazed.

The words touched your heart. The whole thing was so intimate, especially since they wrote it for you. They were pouring out the love they felt for you, the sadness that came with seeing you struggle. Unlaying the song was the assurance that things would get better.  

At some point, you’re not sure when, tears started to blur your vision. The song had barely ended before you threw yourself at them, hugging with all your might. The hugs were returned and you felt a kiss on the top of your head—Pogue. Caleb wiped away a stray tear that had escaped with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, sorry baby,” Pogue seconded. Everyone was silent for a moment when he cracked a joke. “You should’ve told me that my playing was bad, I would’ve stopped sooner.”

You slapped his chest with no real force behind it. “Shut up. I loved it. These are tears of happiness.”

“That’s a relief. We’ve been worried about you, you know.”

You relaxed into their grasp, the oranges and pinks in the dusk sky further calming you. “I know. I tried to shake it off and be rational about it but I couldn’t. I’ve been…struggling.”

“We know. It’s alright. We’re here for you through the good times and the bad,” he promised.

“I j-just feel like a failure and I don’t want you to be embarrassed of me because I—”

“Stop it. We could never, never be embarrassed of you. You’re strong and kind and smart; what’s not to love?”

“Face facts, baby, you’re stuck with us for as long as you’ll have us.”

More tears gathered. “I love you two goofs.”

“I love you, too,” they said simultaneously, leaning in on either side to press a kiss to your cheek.

_______________

First poly fic I’ve written/published. Thanks so much for reading! And thanks to Jayn for the idea! 😊 If you want more Caleb content, here’s a recent fic of mine. Check it out! If you want more poly content, let me know that too. 

#the covenant #caleb danvers #pogue parry #sons of ipswich #fanfic #caleb danvers x reader #pogue parry x reader

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dracula helped you out of the coffin and held you close in his arms, not wanting to ever let you go again.

"Vlad, I was so scared." You told him, pressing your face into his chest.

"Me too." He said, stroking your hair. So he was right after all. You were Maria. You had finally come back to him at last.

You still felt weak and held on to Dracula for support. Not only did you feel weak, but you felt... different. You didn't know what it was, but it was like all your senses were maxed out. It was so overwhelming. There was also this new scent that you discovered. It smelled delicious, but what was it? You wondered looking around trying to find the source.

"What did you mean that you remember everything?" Van Helsing asked, concerned for you.

You faced him, realizing just where that smell was coming from. Your eyes shined bright red, an intense hunger in them...hunger for blood. Normally you would have been repelled by such a thing, but right now you needed it more than ever. Van Helsing watched you nervously as you inched toward him.

"Y/N?" He said nervously backing away, but you did not answer. All you could think about was his blood, the taste of it on your lips. Dracula noticing your odd behavior, grabbed you by your shoulders and held you back. Why? He did not know. He had wanted to kill Van Helsing himself earlier. Perhaps he was trying to prevent you from doing something you would regret.

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but Dracula held you firmly in place. "Let me go!" You hissed at him, revealing for the first time your fresh new set of fangs. Van Helsing stared at you wide eyed. What had he done? You were no longer the sweet, brave, and kind Y/N, you were now a monster. He should never have let Dracula turn you. But then you would be dead...looking at you now, maybe it would have been better that way. He just lost it in a moment of grief.

"Calm down, darling." Dracula spoke in a soft voice, trying to soothe you. "You will feed soon, I promise."

Van Helsing glanced up at him. "What do you mean?" 

"She is in a very crucial time right now. She needs to feed." Dracula urgently explained to him.

"So what will you do, go kill another innocent person?" He asked, raising his voice.

"We have no choice."

Van Helsing sighed. "Then she can have some of mine."

"That is not necessary, Doctor Van Helsing." He refused.

"Yes it is. I won't have you or her killing anyone else. I'll run into town and get my supplies. I'll be back soon." He said, buttoning up his coat, turning to leave.

"Henry, take the coach if it's still there and take him home." Dracula ordered. Henry nodded and promptly followed Van Helsing out.

A few minutes later the tapping of horseshoes against the ground could be heard as they disappeared into the night leaving you and Dracula alone. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, then looked up at him.

"Is that what it's like for you all the time?" You asked, now realizing how difficult life was for him. How tempting it was to feed on human blood. Even now with no mortals around, you desired it. Dracula simply nodded. "It's horrible...I can't believe I wanted to...to..." You winced at the thought of hurting, maybe even killing Lawrence. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close.

"Come, let's wait for them upstairs." Dracula said, guiding you from the dungeons and up the stairs. When you reached the entry hall your mouth fell open in shock. This was the first time you had seen the castle in ruins. You felt a very intense anger. How dare the townspeople do this to your home, to Dracula's home!

"What do we do Vlad?" You ask, looking around. He squeezed your shoulder and replied, "We'll find some place else. Anywhere is home as long as I have you."

As you waited for Van Helsing to return, your mind wandered. You thought about how strange fate was. In your previous life you were married to Dracula and Van Helsing was his power hungry step-brother who killed you. In this life you were Van Helsing's friend who ultimately reunited you with your lover.

"What's wrong?" Dracula asked, noticing how quiet you had become.

"I was just thinking. What happened after...after I died all those years ago?" You asked. Dracula knew this question was inevitable now.

"Well, Van Helsing fled and joined the Turks. Soon after, we went to war and I was killed during one of the battles. As I lay there dying from my wounds, the devil appeared to me. I sold my soul and in return I would have my revenge on the Van Helsings." He told you.

"That's when you became one of the living dead?" You asked. He nodded. "But Lawrence doesn't know about any of that. He told me he wanted to get rid of you because he thought you were a threat to humanity."

"He's right. I am." He admitted. "I didn't care how many lives I took. How much blood I spilled. None of them mattered as long as I didn't have you. I was just as ruthless in life as I am in death."

"And now?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know..."

Suddenly, from out of the wreckage you heard some rustling followed by a series of painful moans. Dracula pushed you behind him ready to attack whatever it was. From beneath the debris, a man crawled out. He was covered in dirt and blood, the smell instantly flooded your nostrils. "H-help me..." The man pleaded as he slowly pulled himself across the floor. Dracula looked over at you and saw the hunger return in your eyes and how you licked your lips, desperate for just a little taste. He didn't want to admit how turned on he was by this. He smiled and stepped aside, letting you pass. He wasn't about to let you miss out on your first meal.

Your eyes were fixed on the man before you, like a predator staring down it's prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"I'll help you." You lied, your voice sounding menacing.

"Oh, thank you I-" He peered up at you and saw what you had become and let out a blood curdling scream. "Nonnnoo! Please!" He cried, cowering away, but you didn't hear him. You were focused on one thing. You grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground making him eye-level with you. You hesitated for a moment. You knew you shouldnt. That this was bad, but he did try to kill you and your love after all. He deserved it. Your mouth was practically watering as the sound of his pulse pounded against your eardrums. Dracula stood behind you and whispered in your ear, "Do it." Before the man could utter another plea for mercy, you sunk your fangs deep into his neck. His blood dripped down your lips and chin as you sucked every last drop from his body. Dracula wanted you now more than ever. You moaned and threw your head back enjoying the taste of blood as it ran down your throat. Once you were finished, you tossed the corpse back into the rubble he crawled out of.

"How do you feel now?" Dracula asked, eyeing you lustfully. You grinned at him. "Much better, darling." You answered in a husky voice, running your finger under his chin. Unable to resist you a moment longer, he twirled you around and pressed you flush against him. Leaning down he licked some of the blood from your lips, then he roughly pressed his mouth on yours. He could still taste the blood as he slipped his tongue inside. It drove him mad. You couldn't help but let out a moan when he suddenly nipped your bottom lip as he pulled away. You both stared longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

You went to kiss him again, but were interupted when Henry and Van Helsing returned.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" He exclaimed noticing the fresh blood around your lips, running towards you. He looked down at the man's lifeless body, a horrified expression on his face. "You killed him..."

"What of it?" Dracula sneered.

"Don't you understand? She killed an innocent man!" He yelled.

"He wasn't so innocent when he tried to kill us." You quickly pointed out.

"Y/N, why? I thought you were better than this." 

"I guess I'm not who you thought I was." You said coldly. Van Helsing felt his heart break again at how much you changed. He wanted to take you far away from here, far away from Dracula. To try to find a way to get his Y/N back. He'd rather you be dead than live out eternity like this...Van Helsing sighed. He had no other choice. He had to kill you and Dracula before it was too late.

"I guess not." He agreed. "There's nothing more I can do if this is the life you've chosen. I'm leaving for London tomorrow." Dracula eyed him suspiciously. Was he really willing to just leave you alone? To just ignore the fact that you might kill again. Did he really care for you that much?

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, still wishing to remain friends. Even though his ancestor had murdered you in your past life you didn't hold it against Lawrence. He was different.

"No, I don't think so." He replied, looking away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said sadly, but you understood.

"I am as well." Van Helsing said. You pulled away from Dracula and went over to your friend, pulling him into a hug. Why did you have to do that? He thought. It only made things more difficult for him. He knew the real you was still in there somewhere, but the vampire took her place leaving a shell of what you once were. You placed a quick peck on his cheek and backed away.

"Goodbye, Y/N." He said, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see you alive, knowing that when the sun came up it was up to him to end your damned existence. He turned and left without another word.

Dracula felt your distress and wrapped you in his arms in a comforting embrace. It was getting close to dawn now. He needed to find you a coffin before daylight broke. So, after he knew you were alright he left with Henry to the local cemetery to find you a coffin.

You wandered the castle ruins thinking about Lawrence. He had been your only friend in the world till now. No one else had stopped to give you a second thought, but he did. He was there for you when no one else was. At one point before you came to Transylvania, you thought you loved him, but he was too involved in his work. His work was his ultimate passion, and you knew you couldn't compete, so you never did. You sometimes wondered what it would be like if you had chosen a life with Van Helsing. Would you be a silly little domestic couple with a house and kids? It was an amusing thought, but neither of you were the type.

Finally, Dracula and Henry returned a little while later carrying a coffin. It wasnt anything fancy, but it would do. Perhaps later, you could get a better one. Sunlight started peeking in through the windows as they hurriedly carried it into the dungeons, placing your coffin beside Dracula's.

"Too bad they don't make couple's coffins." You joked.

"Maybe we could have one made." He teased, kissing your neck where he had bitten you, making you shudder. "I love you." You said softly running your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too." It was so pleasant to hear him utter those words. You wanted to hear him say it again and again.

"Sleep well, darling." You said with a yawn, as you lay down suddenly feeling tired. You took one last look at him before shutting the lid. This wasn't an ideal lifestyle, but you loved him and that's all that mattered.

The sun rose into the sky and the birds began to sing their morning song. It would have been a beautiful day if it not had been for the task that Van Helsing had set out to do. He crept back inside the castle, bag in hand, being careful not wanting to draw attention to himself. He stood in the doorway to the dungeons, contemplating his next move. His chest was heavy as the thought about driving a stake into your heart. But he had to do it. He slowly opened the door and walked inside, and down the flight of stairs to the room where Dracula's coffin had been earlier. Now he noticed, that there were two coffins lying side by side, one belonging to you.

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a hammer and a couple of stakes. Van Helsing strode over to your coffin and pulled open the lid. Inside, you lay looking peaceful and content, a small smile on your face. If only it didn't have to be this way...

He pressed the stake between your breasts and raised the hammer high into the air, ready to strike. But he couldn't. The longer he stared down into your beautiful face, the harder it became to do it. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at you...But he just couldnt. Why was this so difficult?

Suddenly, a voice shouted out behind him startling him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Henry shouted, running at him, tackling him to the ground.

"Stop!" Lawrence yelled, shoving Henry off of him. Not listening, Henry raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Van Helsing's face, quickly tearing the stake and hammer out of his grasp.

He shook his head, feeling dazed for a moment.

"How could you do that?! I thought you wanted her alive?!" Henry asked throwing away his weapons across the room.

"I did, but after seeing what she has become I couldnt let her live like that...but I can't do it. I can't release her from this curse....It's all my fault." Van Helsing sobbed, his head throbbing. This is why he never let anyone get close to him in the first place. He had only himself to blame for this. There had to be another way and he was going to find it by any means necessary.

#not my best work #pretty satisfied with it tho #i think this might have more parts than i planned #hope you guys like it! #dracula x reader #van helsing x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader inserts #christopher lee

[secretaryunpaid]

I think I wanna Marry you (part 2)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,000 approx (what can I say, I love Love)

Warning: Lot’s of sex, it’s their wedding night !!!

~~~~~ The Grandhotel Pupp, Czech Republic ~~~~~

“Abiento, Sra. Dalton.” 

“Excuse you, I’m no Dalton ...”

“My apologies Sra., then perhaps I should presume you to be a guest of Sr. Samuel Dalton’s party.” 

“I’m Sra. Dalton’s aunt, but that wouldn’t be any of your business now would it?” 

“Sincere apologies. I didn’t wish to offend... Please, let me take care of your stay to make this up to you. I own the hotel, and just wanted to be hospitable to our esteemed guests.”

 After allowing him to do as he stated, taking his card as requested should she require anything further, Dahlia’s Aunt Marilyn finally met up with her older sister Patricia, explaining her delay... very much to Patricia’s disbelief. 

Marilyn continues... “Well, I wouldn’t mind a free stay in the hotel... He was so insistent, I wasn’t going to admit that I have a home here... Let’s take full advantage of the spa and other amenities... We can question our Dahlia a bit more about this billionaire boyfriend turned husband a bit later. It’s a good thing we talked to Riley isn’t it... Dahlia will be very surprised to see us...”

~~~~~ The Greeting, Take 2  ~~~~~

Having received word of their helicopter arrival, he makes his way quickly to the front desk to greet his most influential guest. “Anton Edison, welcome to my hotel Mr. &  Mrs. Dalton... I’d like to personally invite you to my Casino in Monaco as my private guests... Consider it my wedding gift to you, along with this stay being my compliments... (Both Sam and Dahlia look as if this is some sort of prank until he assures them otherwise, giving Sam his personal Exclusive Contact card.) ... No pressure, just please let me know, should you decide to take me up on my offer. Enjoy your stay!”

As introductions conclude, Anton returns to his private office, pondering if the couple will actually take them up on his generosity... He must have an answer prior to his and their departure from this hotel... An impromptu dinner or meeting will just have to occur... This opportunity will not pass him over... it is crucial that he succeed.

Anxious to start this “Dalton’s love story” he has planned, he practically drags his bride to the private paternoster... But he is respectful of Anton’s hospitality, only kissing her teasingly as the ascent to their room begins. The second wedding had Sam feeling that not only the ceremony deserved a do over.

Once in their room, Sam insists that Dahlia shower, telling her that he wants to make preparations for dinner before joining her... wanting it to be a surprise, and pleading with her through kisses to allow him his way this once.

Setting up his “surprise” with lightning speed, having pre-planned everything down to the last word. He joins her in the shower, totally distracting her mind to prevent any questions as to what he was up to. 

After getting properly dressed for this wondrous evening planned, Sam slips out to take his position just before she comes out adjusting her jewelry... looking up to find Sam looking like a lost Cupid ... which puts a deep smile on her face...

“First, I have the infused chocolates... to heighten our mood...”

“Next, I’ve poured the champagne... You know ... to get the tickles in your mouth before I taste those lips...” She closes her eyes, looking away from the playfulness. When she turns back, Sam is holding a rose between his teeth and a sign... resulting in her audible face palm... 

“More lovemaking? After we just completed that and got all dressed up? But we’ve got the whole stay... And I must tell you love, that although it feels brand new each time... (she whispers, hand against face) It’s no longer an unexpected surprise!”

“Ah, just teasing... but you’ll be asking for this sign again very shortly...”

“Sam, truly what’s going on?” He looks at the sign, rolling his eyes at the oversight...

“Oh shit, I am showing the wrong side... Let me try that once more... “

“Marry me woman !!!? Please... I can’t live without you...” 

“What happened to going down on one knee, Sam?” (Finally understanding what Sam has been trying to do all of this time...)

“Oh baby, I’ll do you one better and go down on you on both knees... Come here, and let me plead for you to marry me... Lick by lick!”

“I’ve still got it!” He teases her, reminding him of the first time he chose to propose... both agreeing that it truly wasn’t the best time... Her reminding him of how romantically unplanned the second proposal was, but truth be told, this is the one she would have ugly cried through before devouring him. “Love, you could never be ugly... no matter what you do.”

After giving it much thought, Sam sent a text to Anton, stating, “Monaco sounds fun, and my wife is anxious to take in the best that Monaco has to offer! Look forward to meeting with you again!”

~~~~~ Rewind to the Wedding Night  ~~~~~

Running a single finger down her sternum, lightly pinching her breasts, tracing her sides until his hands meet her hips, he whispers his plans for her tonight.

Tonight, he’ll be taking her as his wife, not a woman whose affections he has been chasing for support or desire. Tonight… the heights of pleasure he is planning to drag her through will be on a much higher level, knowing her instinctual resistance will only stimulate his drive even more.

He seductively teases her as hidden as possible as they sway through their first dance of the night. Yes, their coming together after their first joining to one another as husband and wife was ethereal and stitched him to her in a way he didn’t think possible again. But this marriage… before family and friends … permanently enclosed his heart with hers in his eyes.

She’d never looked more beautiful on any other day. He was blessed to lay eyes upon her. As he traced the outline of her lips, he imagined them encapsulating his length. Envisioning her teasing his scrotum… drawing shivers from him as her small fingers glide along his pubic hairs, reaching his hips… inducing the assisted gyration within her drooling mouth… increasing her hold with her perfect tongue pressure… inciting satisfied groans… 

“Babe, open your eyes… You’re groaning out loud,” she laughs… “Thinking about us, are you?”

His slow kiss gives all the response she needs. He releases her, twirling her around, capturing her back into his embrace … Her back pressed to his chest as he grinds into her the way he’d wished he could privately, but in a way that was respectful to onlookers… if there is such a thing… But, soon his restraint falters… He wants his wife to know his full desire.

Dragging her over to the microphone, he makes an announcement that he and his bride need a few private moments, “Please enjoy the Cristal, music and cake… We hope to return to the celebration, but don’t be too upset if we happened not to… Mom… Dad... twin duty? Thank you everyone…” All Dahlia can do is wave briefly before he lifts her, practically running with her as the crowd’s laughter quickly faded in the distance…

Unable to hold back any further, he finds a secluded corner, lowering her down to her feet… turning her against the wall, dropping to his knees and covering himself under her gown… tasting her already overflowing desire… her head pressing hard into the brick, uncaring of its grittiness.

His constant lapping of her center draws out an uncharacteristic lisp as she whispers her scream of his name. Needing her against him, he stands, hurriedly exposing his overpowering erection, burying it so excitedly into her that it causes her to seemingly climb the wall… both now burning with a need uncontrolled, insatiable, moving with a building friction that brings her love sounds repeatedly … now fueling his own sounds in answer…

“Sam, I need you covering me … Room! Now!” Reluctantly he withdraws, pulling her away from the wall… both now in an excited sprint … Their room is still much too far away to reach … Their growing need for satisfaction overcomes them, so they maintain connection through touch and short kisses.

Coming across cleaning staff, Sam brings them to a near missed stop at her side. “Excuse me Miss… Do you have a room available like, right now! Dahlia buries her face in his neck from sheer embarrassment as he pulls out his wallet. The staff takes notice of their attire and, without hesitation, opens the door out of which she just exited.

Quickly handing her what could easily been over five grand, he carries Dahlia in hurriedly, kicking the door closed, reaching up to put the additional lock on

Now desperately searching her dress for any means to remove it .. feeling way too impatient, he rips it down her back side… to her shock. “Sam !!! It had a zipper !!!” “Can’t wait,” he says as his tongue spirals along her bare skin… already moving out of his own clothes… When he spins her around, both are completely free of clothing…

He pulls her to the bed’s edge, kissing, groping… moaning … Switching positions, he now stands behind her, pushing her into a bend, entering her before he hardens even more … Her gripping of the sheets and muffled whimpers spur his rapid thrusts, her ass clapping against his frame … He grips her hips, ramming himself deep as her walls swallow him repeatedly ...

“Too? … Rough?,” is his broken question… Her throaty, “No… Harder !!,” sends an excitement through him. Before she realizes, she is flush against the mattress with him closing her legs inside of his … Now situated atop her ass, driving deeply, slapping her cheeks before laying against her backside … stroking roughly as she returns his thrust … his hands gripping her hair, marking his territory with such vessel shattering kisses, she claws his ass, spurring him even further still…

“Yes, ba-by… Yesss!,” she hisses. He continues this way until his need to see how she is enjoying him causes his withdrawal, her audible disappointment and turning to pull him back to her proving more than any vision of her clenched eyes could prove…

She all but snatches him back onto her. His rushed entry draws out the sound of pain… He stops, but she moves against him… “No, Sam … Don’t stop!” Driving even deeper still, his forceful movements back her up into the headboard, but she opens herself to him as wide as she could, separating her legs in a lifted grip… her own nails practically piercing her skin…

Sam grips the headboard, determined to send every ounce of his longing through her … Soon they both are screaming each other’s name... her orgasm cascading pleasurably over his slowing strokes… but he withdraws, both watching his seed flow against her mound … spreading it until nearly dried.

Leaning to her ear, Sam whispers, “I’m not ending this night this early … I won’t cum inside you until you beg me to …” Her desperate kiss, tongue pulling, and lip biting, provides her approval … “Let’s get to our room now. I have so many pleasures in store for you tonight, my love,” ending his confession in another sensual breathtaking kiss …

Chests heaving, he pulls her to the pile of clothes on the floor … Realizing now that there is no way she can put her dress back on, they both snicker over his previous over excitement, which is quickly escalating at the bounce of her breasts as she laughs.

“It’s okay… I’ll hold it in place somehow.”

“Here, put my suit coat over it.”

He peers out of the doors, seeing the cleaning staff giving a bashful smile… “Okay, let’s get out of here…” Pulling her yet again in another sprint, her dress catches, almost exposing her… Sam scoops her up, kissing her, steadfast in their rush to reach their room … Shaking her head and covering her lips in a slight grin, the woman enters to clean the room once again. Totally surprised at how disheveled the room had been left in such a short stay.

Now inside, heading towards the elevator, he sees a group of frustrated guests, implying that the elevator has kept them waiting. They give each other a defeated look, but soon Sam sees another cleaning cart… They both nod in agreement, and soon he is rounding the corner.

“Excuse me!... Excuse me!” The gentleman stops pushing the cart of soiled linen to address them… “Is there a private elevator or staff lift?” Noting Dahlia’s clothing dilemma and marriage attire, he leads them to the corner elevator. “It takes a key to operate, so I’ll have to escort you…” 

“FINE!!!” Both laugh, as the man shakes his head knowingly. Pulling her into the furthest corner of the elevator, Sam lowers her, taking a protective stand in front of his wife’s exposed frame. He removes his wallet, taking out another wad, handing it hurriedly to the staffer. Quickly standing to his side, speaking in a whisper, the gentleman clears his throat in understanding.

Sam steps back to Dahlia, with her immediately tugging his shoulder down to inquire of the words spoken to the man. Turning, Sam lowers his head to her ear saying that he told him to forget what he was about to hear. And with that, he was falling to his knees, kissing his way up her calves, knees, thighs… until he reached her… “OH !!!” … center... covered with her dress yet again. She fought for quiet,  failing miserably.

For each floor the elevator was forced to stop on, the staffer would wave the incoming staffer away, hurriedly pressing for the doors to close. Sam peers from under her dress, realizing he never told what floor, but the staffer said, “We’ll reach the honeymoon suite shortly Mr. Dalton. I mean, sir !!” With that, he's back under the layers of dress once again, Dahlia gasping in the best efforts at silenced pleasure as she could. Once the elevator chimes it’s final time, the staffer steps out to clear the hallway of possible guests to avoid further exposure… “All clear, but not for-” 

“Ooooh, Sam!!! Yessss !!”

Clearing his throat loudly, the bride and groom take the hint, Sam carrying her down the hallway hurriedly once again, Dahlia burying her head in his chest. Shaking his head with a smirk, the staffer enters the elevator, understanding their “rush” with familiarity. Planning out his use of the $10K amnesia payment… wondering how many more private elevator rides will be needed with a hearty laugh.

Finally inside their honeymoon suite, Dahlia leaps from Sam’s arms, now tearing his clothing free, lowering herself to his engulfed member, teasingly drawing his deep inhales, her hair now being ruffled into a knotted mess… holding him assisted as her strength allows against his pelvis, she works him desperately, hungrily pleasing him to no end… until he unloads … She allows him to watch her take every drop… 

“Perfection !!!” He pulls her into his lustful kiss, then holds her, forehead to forehead, hearts beating erratically. Neither satisfied, both expecting a totally sleepless night. 

“Mrs. Dalton…” 

“Yes, Mr. Dalton…”

“I’m going to eat you alive! But first…”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s hydrate !!!”

Both break into laughter, heading over to the chilled champagne, walking over with the bucket and glasses, lowering themselves into the jacuzzi. Sam guided her between his legs so that he could hold her tenderly, pouring their first drink of the night.

“Sam, I don’t think this really counts as hydration…”

“Then we’ll just have to keep drinking each other,” he says with hunger building in his eyes yet again. “You know this is your fault for putting me on hiatus until tonight?...”

She smiles into his lips … “I’m not complaining one bit, though…” Her lips now making a heated trail down his center, coupled with an enticing tongue flicker…

By checkout, there is a mess of wax and torn sheets strewn throughout, in the midst of empty bottles, lost lingerie, and a note with a generous tip left for the cleaning crew… The words written:

“Off to our honeymoon! Our deepest apologies for the … yeah !!! The Daltons … Please let us know if jacuzzi replacement costs are required.” … Sam’s signature on the back of his business card.

“Nope, consider this celebration’s damage on the house, lol” She didn’t think her tip last night could get any better, but after her shift, she’s off to shop for her new car. “Come again!,” she exclaims, laughing at the happenings that must have gone on in this room ...

#@Becoming Mrs. Dalton #@secretaryunpaid #@TNA

[nestasgalpal]

Consequences

Fixing ACOSF Part 3

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta tells Feyre what the baby’ll do to her when she gives birth and regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.  This chapter is a long one and it’s all about being sisters.They would die and kill for each other, we know that, that was never doubted, but where is the scene where they talk like real sisters? Here.

Tagging:  @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh​ @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

The next part will be Cassian’s pov from this chapter, which was in the book. I’ve said this already, but my intention is that you can simply pick this rewrite and exchange it with the one in the book and still have all the events before and after match, so I think rewriting his pov is necessary for consistency. That’s also why Nesta is still feeling lost by the end of this: that’s how she felt until they went to the lake.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. “This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you …” She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, “You stay here.”

Nesta let out a low laugh. “You are her High Lady. You don’t need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.”

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.”

“Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat. “Is it respect that your mate offers you?”

Feyre went still.

Amren warned, “Don’t you say one more fucking word , Nesta Archeron.”

Feyre asked, “What do you mean?”

And Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?”

Amren barked, “Shut your mouth!”

But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, “What do you mean?”

“The wings,” Nesta seethed. “The boy’s Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labor, and it will kill you both.”

Silence rippled through the room, the world.

Feyre breathed, “Madja just said the labor would be risky. But the Bone Carver … The son he showed me didn’t have wings.” Her voice broke. “Did he only show me what I wanted to see?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta said. “But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.” She turned to Amren. “Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance? Or maybe he simply gave the order and you all obeyed your High Lord’s command, dismissing the new High Lady” Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. “Didn’t you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn’t tell you.”

Feyre began shaking. “If I die …” Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, “You … all of you knew this?”

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.”

“Rhys knew?” Tears spilled down Feyre’s cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. “About the threat to our lives?” She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen.

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. “Don’t talk to my sister like that” Feyre snarled, the sorrow so obvious in her voice that the only thing Nesta could do was turn on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta run down to the street, but she didn’t even know where to go. Feyre’s steps resonated behind her. Nesta could hear her voice calling her, too, but she muted the sound in her head.

She wanted to disappear, to stop existing, that’s what she wanted to do.

Then she heard the pair of wings in the air, aiming towards her in such speed that frightened her a little. Cassian was above her, barely five feet from where she was, but Feyre gripped her arm before he could land, and they vanished.

Nesta had never been to Feyre’s studio, but recognized the space immediatly. She had never been invited, and she had never wanted to go. Nesta didn’t like being in places where she wasn’t welcomed. There were chairs and half painted canvases forming a circle around the center of the room, so Nesta deduced her sister had been in the middle of a class. There was a couch against the back wall, and that’s where Feyre collapsed and started crying her heart out. Nesta aimed for the floor, not daring to sit in the beautiful piece of furniture.

Nesta didn’t ask why she had brought them there, why she had run after her, reaching for her arm before Cassian could.

Feyre didn’t explain either

Her head rested in her sister’s lap, and she joined her in her crying. Feyre’s was loud, unhinged, while Nesta’s was silent. What had she done? How had she allowed herself to go so far?

Nesta wanted to speak, to tell Feyre that she was sorry, but no apology could make up for the words that had already been said. No apology would prevent her from dying when the time came.

Nesta’s heart shattered. Listening to her sister was too much. She had endured her own weeping, the tears that had adorned her cheeks so many nights until she fell asleep, but to hear Feyre… to know she was the one responsible… Nesta hated herself.

For how long they were like that, she didn’t know. At some point, they both run out of tears, their hands together, their fingers interlaced. Nesta caressed Feyre’s palm until her sobbing was completely gone, pressing soft kisses to the inked back of her hand. She couldn’t recall a time when they had ever been like this, this calm, this close to one another. Alone and without fighting.

It was Feyre the who broke the silence.

“I can’t believe he hid something like this from me,” she muttered, her voice so weak Nesta almost couldn’t understand what she was saying.

She raised her head from her sister’s lap to meet her gaze. Her own eyes stared back, mirroring her pain. “I’m sorry”

“For what?” Feyre’s question was not innocent. She was mad at her too.

Nesta didn’t care for Rhysand and his wrath in that moment. She only cared about her sister and the damage she had done to her. She wanted Feyre to know how much she regretted it, bout still didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “For telling you.”

“I forgive you” Feyre tried to smile, but her mouth only twitched, a sobbing coming out again. “I’m glad you told me. I needed to know.”

“You shouldn’t. I certainly won’t forgive myself” She was desperate to tint her words with the mess of feelings tangling in her heart, but she didn’t know how. She hadn’t really done this before. She had regretted things, but she had never asked for forgiveness. Not once.

She was glad Feyre was the first one.

“I still forgive you” Her sister’s words were kind. Too kind. It was Nesta’s turn to become a crying mess, tears running down her face again. Feyre rose from the couch, not letting their hands part, holding tight to her sister. She found a place to sit next to Nesta, and hugged her.

“Then I’m sorry for everything else” Nesta murmured.

“It’s okay. I forgive you for that too”

“He will never forgive me”

Feyre took Nesta’s face between her tattooed hands. Her grip was firm, but her body was still trembling. Nesta didn’t want to look at her, but she did it anyway. There was no more hiding “You don’t need his forgiveness. This is not a punishment, Nesta.” Her voice broke, but they both waited for her to find her words back. There was no rush, only understanding “This was not a punishment. I wanted to help you, I really did, but I didn’t know how.”

Nesta shifted, changing her posture to face Feyre better. She still hadn’t let her face go. “I thought you wanted revenge.”

“I never meant to hurt you… to lock you up and take away your choices”. Nesta recognized the words she had once said to Morrigan; the only time she had verbalized to anyone how her sister's actions felt. The blond one had talked to Feyre about their encounter, apparently. Nesta pushed the inked hands that framed her face away and took Feyre’s body in her arms abruptly. She didn’t resist, only moved her arms to go around Nesta’s waist “I only wanted my sister back” she whined.

She understood. Nesta understood. She wanted her family back, too. But a war had happened, and she still doubted she would ever be adjusted enough to be herself again. She didn’t say it, but she knew, somehow, that Feyre understood that too.

Like war drums, the sound of two pairs of wings coming closer made both of them shift in each other’s arms. Through the walls of the studio, only her fae senses made it possible for her to hear the sound they made. Her arms remained wrapping Feyre’s body, her sister still like a statue.

Rhysand and Cassian.

They landed outside, their presences obvious to both sisters.

“I know it will take time for them to listen to me as they listen to him, but I also know they are trying. They are my friends, Nesta, don’t be mad at them” Feyre moved, loosening her grip on Nesta, so she did the same to leave her more space. Feyre rose to her feet. “They’ve been together for over 500 years.” She reached her hand and Nesta took it, getting up as well. The sisters faced each other “What I need, Nesta, if for you and Elain to be there for me too when I can’t resort to them. I know I’ve claimed them as my family… they are my family now, but so are you. I need you. I need my older sister” Feyre’s eyes were glassy, but her gaze burned with fire. Determination.

Nesta forced herself to hold her stare. She wished she could be there. She wanted to, but she didn’t have the strength. She was too lost.

“I will never fit in that perfect family you seek. Doesn’t matter how bad you want it, Feyre, it just can’t be. I’ll never be one of you.”

“You could...”

“But I don’t think I want to” Feyre didn’t say a word, she just listened to her “I don’t know if they can be a family for me”. Nesta wished she could, but it wasn’t just on her end. They didn’t want her either. Morrigan would have sent her to the Mortal Lands. They would get rid of her, if it wasn’t for Feyre shielding her.

You are a waste of life, Amren had told her once.

Nesta was not doing all of this on purpose. She wanted to have her life back more than anyone, but she didn’t know the way. “You can’t control people’s lives, Feyre. Even if you are doing it from a place of love. I wish I could tell you that there is a way, that I’m going to be there for you, but I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

Feyre finally sat back on the couch. She was pregnant, she must be exhausted. Her blue-ish eyes were caught up on the window, the view of the Sidra. Nesta didn’t sit by her side.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when we were younger. If I could go back now, I know what I would change. But I don’t know how to change the past, and I don’t know how to fix the future.”

Nesta didn’t know what else to say. She was sorry. Feyre was sorry too. Yet all their problems remained. Nesta wanted to die, to stop existing, and Feyre wanted her happy and by her side. She knew Feyre would give in, she would always give in if Nesta just asked her to, but she didn’t even know what to ask for. There was no solution for her, no future.

Nesta didn’t have tears left to fill her eyes. She didn’t know how to fix herself, her terrible impulse to hurt others, her high walls. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to find out anymore.

When she stayed close to the people she loved, they were hurt. But when she put distance between them, they still suffered.

She was the problem.

“I will live. And so will my baby. And so will you” Feyre’s words were the sentence of a High Lady, they were not up for discussion. Her sister had grown too much and too fast. She was far from perfect, but she was giving her all to become the ruler her Court needed. One day, she would be. “Run away, take your time if that’s what you need. Come to my house, we’ll kick Rhysand to a guest room so you can sleep in my bed when you have a nightmare. I don’t care. I won’t give up on you.”

It didn’t matter, Nesta had given up on herself.

“You don’t have to fit in the Inner Circle, you know?” She added, her eyes still fixed on the river beyond the glass windows. “You don’t have to be part of the Court. You can just be my sister. You can come see your nephew when he is born, help me teach him how to read, dance…” Not even Nesta’s inner demons could stop the smile that formed on her lips at the image her sister described. She would like to have a nephew.

Feyre saw her face, the trembling lips, swollen, the smile in them. She was smiling too, thought it was a sad grin.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said to me when I came back from Tamlin’s state. Any of it.” Nesta hadn’t forgotten either, the memory of herself encouraging her little sister to go back to the Wall to save her beloved. She had been a fool. That was just another point in the large list of times when she had failed her “You wanted to leave father’s state to him and Elain, and you wanted to see the world. Not what I expected, from someone who had spent her entire life revolving around marriage as the basis for a future.”

Nesta shifted on her feet, eager to understand what her sister’s point was.

“You don’t need to be a lady or a queen without a throne of anything at all. Just take your time, find out who you want to be when every possibility is within your reach. We’ll be waiting for you, whenever you are ready to come back. You’ll always fit in my family, Nesta. And it would be an honor for me to fit in yours.”

There was a knock on the door. An impatient hand moving on the wood to drive their attention.

The door didn’t open for them.

They had been waiting out there for a while, and without seeing him, Nesta could tell Cassian was nervous like a caged animal. Rhysand hadn’t moved, he remained perfectly still, waiting for his mate to go meet him whenever she wanted to.

“I asked Cassian to come” She didn’t mention her husband, why he was there “I’ll take us to the river house if you want to be there from now on. He can take you to the House of Wind, too, if that’s where you want to go.” Nesta dipped into the slightest nod, ready to go out and find Cassian mad at her, but still willing to take her back to her room and wait until he made sure she was okay. She wanted to be alone, but she liked how being alone together felt. Just as her sister, Cassian couldn’t let go of her. She hated it, and she had a feeling that he hated it too. He was out there, with Rhysand… “But there is a third option…”

Nesta waited for her sister to go on. Where else could she go? There wasn’t a place for her. There had never been.

“It was actually Cassian’s idea. He thought you might use a little time outside. You can go together to the Illyrian-”

“I’m not going back to that village” Nesta was not going to the camps. Not all of this again…

Nesta started building up her walls again. Feyre kept her cool. The crying mess she had been a while ago, completely gone, a confident woman replacing her; a High Lady in the making. “I was gonna say Illyrian Mountains. As in actual mountains. You’ll go hiking, I don’t know what he has planned exactly. To talk to him, if you want to.”

Nesta relaxed her back, but kept her posture straight.

“I could give that a try.” she answered. If there was an option where she went out of Velaris, she was taking it.

A smile threatened to form in Feyre’s lips, but she retained it, knowing that Nesta wouldn’t like the expression of victory on her face. Nesta had already seen the corner of her lips move, but pretended she hadn’t. Feyre had a lot to learn about keeping a blank face. She hoped one day she would be in conditions to teach her.

“Your mate is outside” Nesta said, her tone casual, her words heavy like stone.

“He is” Nesta could read her sister like an open book. She was eager to see him again, scared, angry.

She gave her little sister’s hand a tug. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”

Nesta couldn’t yet find a way to help herself, but she was going to face Rhysand, his anger, and she was going to come out on top. She was going to do it for herself, but also for Feyre, who needed her biggest sister having her back.

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