#i was so busy the past few days so i delayed this post a little bit hehe sorry 🙈

[thegroovywitch]

🎑 spinning records with dee dee: day 3 🎑

Page and Plant – Rude World (1997)

This track stands out in Jimmy’s discography as being the only one where his signature guitar distortions are merged with digital beats and an overall more modern sound.

It was released as part of The Inner Flame – A Tribute to Rainer Ptacek, a tribute and benefit album put together by Howe Gelb and Robert Plant, with the purpose of helping the German-American musician with his mounting medical expenses during his battle with cancer. Many renowned artists contributed to the project, including Emmylou Harris, PJ Harvey, Lucinda Williams and Ptacek himself.

#i was so busy the past few days so i delayed this post a little bit hehe sorry 🙈 #also i was having trouble choosing the track so if you have requests of any kind please lmk through my askbox! #i love this song so much #robert absolutely slayed with the vocals #she's an icon she's a legend and she IS the moment #spinning records with dee dee 🎶 #jimmy page #robert plant #led zeppelin #classic rock #90s #90s rock #by dee dee #Spotify

[transforming]

Dane's Unexpected Vacation

Here's a little something I put together, as a commission for @tf-lover, who's been such an amazing friend of mine in the TF community, with a shoutout to his amazing work and his collaborations with @mrwavellswaps! Enjoy!

-----

It had been a particularly long week for Dane De Bruin. 

It was nearly a year ago when his life changed forever, from being a skinny young teacher who was tired of his life and having to deal with annoying teenagers, to a bona fide magical hunk, and now having a boyfriend in the form of the marvelous Mr Wavell. That was a whirlwind, magic carpet ride of a journey all on its own, not only becoming such a stud but also discovering he probably had powers of his own. Dane worked and trained with Mr Wavell, in the real world and in their home in the pocket dimension, to figure out what magic he has deep within him, as he channeled Wavell’s powers to help others find true happiness and fulfill their hidden desires.

He knew that loads of guys had a kink for soft, squishy pecs like his, and as much as he could make money appear from the snap of his fingers, he also thought about the thousands of pounds he could earn just from showing off his man-tits. That said, he began venturing into social media, posting at least once a week on Instagram for thirsty fans who’d be willing to pay him anything to support him, and even send him cute drawings that would especially highlight his knockers. It got a kick out of him, and in a way, he was helping people feel satisfied and fulfilled, and he was feeling great about that.

On top of all that, most recently he had been helping out Mr Wavell collect testimonials on the Homo Bomb he had dropped on the town of Bellmare, dividing up their research across the town’s residents. It was quite fascinating to see how the magical bomb changed the townspeople, varying from the simple change of straight men turning gay, already gay men turning into their fantasies or crushes, to the rare anomalies of women becoming men. The beach town was definitely a notable case study for the books, and it was worth examining on how happy people could be with the help of sudden magic being dropped upon them, all thanks to his boyfriend.

-----

However, in the past few days, Dane started to notice that he was getting quite tired, and it threw off everything he had been doing. He felt less motivated to go to the gym, and without a nice enough pump to show off, he delayed posting anything new on Instagram. Even channeling Wavell’s magic for his own use has been more strenuous than normal, and with Wavell busy collecting his side of testimonies from Bellmare, they haven’t had much time to themselves: whether it was to have a bit of fun in the bedroom, to work on strengthening Dane’s magical abilities, or simply to have lunch together.  It was similar to the draining feeling he experienced long before when he was a teacher, dealing with these pesky kids who didn’t listen to him, or dealing with an admin that ignored his needs for support in the classroom – except that he was drained from everything that he enjoyed doing as Dane. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Dane knew he was being stretched thin, and that he was on the verge of majorly burning out. He was in desperate need of a break. One day, when he finally mustered up enough courage, he eventually sat down with his boyfriend.

“Wavell, babe, I need to talk to you,” Dane said, looking forlorn and exhausted.

Wavell walked over from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine in his hand, handing one to his lover. “What is it, Dane?” he asked as they both sat down.

Dane sighed. “It’s been so amazing spending time with and falling in love with you babe. I’ve loved every moment we’ve spent together, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. The magic, our relationship and getting to channel your magic, the sex…” Dane chuckled a bit. “Even this Homo Bomb has been crazy interesting to observe.”

Wavell smiled and wrapped his arm around Dane’s waist as he took a sip of his pinot. “And I love you so much, baby. I still can’t believe you’re my boyfriend after all this time. How long has it been? What, nearly ten months since I made you into Dane?”

“Yeah, just about.” Dane smiled, as he took a sip of his wine. “I love you too, babe. Like I said, everything we’ve done together has made me feel so much happier, and life feels so worthwhile with you…” Dane paused, hesitating for a moment, but enough for Wavell to notice.

“I can sense a ‘but’ coming in,” Wavell said, kissing Dane’s cheek. “Dane, don’t worry, you know you can always tell me anything.”

Dane sighed once more, as he slumped his shoulders and finished his glass of wine in one gulp. “I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but I’m just feeling really drained. I’ve noticed it in the little things. Not feeling enough hype to work out, I don’t feel as strong as I know I could be after all our training and after using your powers, and in general I just feel a bit tired.”

Wavell looked down, thinking about it for a moment. In his experience, he knew that magic was enough to keep one energetic and dynamic, but he’d also heard enough stories of other warlocks and possessors of magic to know that not getting enough rest and relaxation could completely destroy their magic and revert them back to what they used to be, or even worse, drain them out of existence. A few of his own friends had disappeared in the past. He pulled Dane close, kissed him softly, and let him rest his head on his lap, 

“You definitely need some R&R, Dane,” Wavell replied, smiling sweetly as he caressed Dane’s hair. “Your powers are still relatively new, and I don’t want to see you completely drained out when you’re still growing them to their full potential.”

Dane felt tears well up in his eyes, and after a deep breath, he felt them stream down his cheeks. “I know, babe. I just… I didn’t wanna let you down.” Dane sniffled, while Wavell rubbed his V-tapered back, comforting him.

“You’ll never let me down, babe. Never. But you shouldn’t ever be ashamed to tell me you’re tired, or to ask for a break when you need one.” Wavell wiped the tears from Dane’s cheeks, as he ran his hand down Dane’s arm to calm him. 

Wavell smirked as he lifted Dane’s head off his lap and embraced him. “You deserve this break. And luckily, I know just the guy to help you out.” 

Dane raised an eyebrow. “Who is this guy?”

Wavell chuckled. “His name’s Drew, and he runs this new resort where magicians like us can go to relax. It’s a new venture he’s exploring, an idea that came to him when he was taking a break of his own after running Transformation College years ago.”

Dane’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘The guy who created Transformation College is back?’, he thought. “I thought he’d disappeared long ago. He’s around again?”

Wavell nodded. “Yep, he’s back, and he’s hoping, since he’s running a resort, he can take it a bit easier than last time. The college really burnt him out,” he chuckled, “but I think Drew’s Transformational Resort could benefit you. Plus, knowing him well, he’ll cover all your expenses.”

Dane smiled, and kissed his lover with a renewed passion. “I fucking love you Wavell.”

“And I love you more, Dane. You deserve a break, and don’t worry about the Homo Bomb testimonies, I can cover that. For now, all you need to do is relax, yeah?” Wavell smiled brightly. The couple got up and headed towards the front door. Holding hands, they stepped out of the house and towards a little tropical hut with a bamboo door on the eastern end of Wavell’s pocket dimension. “Here we are. Just straight through that door and you’ll be at the resort.”

As he held the doorknob, Dane looked into Wavell’s eyes one last time and held his hand. “I’m gonna miss you. I wish you could come with me,” his voice quivered as he said that to his lover.

“I’m gonna miss you too, babe. But I know if I’m gonna be there, you might not be able to recuperate fully, considering we still don’t know what your magical powers are, if you have any. Plus, I don’t know if we’d even be able to relax at all with how much sex we’d have,” Wavell chuckled. He squeezed Dane’s hand once more, kissing him softly, before Dane opened the door and entered through.

-----

Once he was fully through, he was quickly blinded by a bright white light. Dane closed his eyes tightly, then when he opened them again, he found himself on the shore of a pristine white beach, on a secluded island completely surrounded by miles and miles of ocean. He could feel the water wade between toes, and the sand stick to his soles, as he looked around, the door to Wavell’s dimension nowhere to be seen. He then noticed that he was shirtless and just wearing a pair of beach shorts, which surprised him. “Woah, this is trippy,” he muttered to himself as he walked off the beach onto the grass further in, seeing a collection of small beachside villas, two larger buildings, and what appeared to be a lobby, where a young, shirtless and handsome stud stood behind a desk, holding a small flower in hand.

Dane walked over to the desk, but before he could speak, the young hunk turned and smiled. “Dane De Bruin?” he asked.

Dane stepped back. “H-how did you know?”

The handsome stud, who looked around college age, smirked. “Wavell told me everything before you arrived.” Dane chuckled, Wavell was always one step ahead of him. “I’m Drew, by the way,” the himbo-looking stud said, reaching out his hand for Dane to shake.

Dane reciprocated the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Drew. Did Wavell already tell you why I’m here?” he replied. Drew simply nodded, and quickly turned around to grab a passion fruit tequila welcome cocktail for Dane, handing it to him.

“We offer a lot of services, but our main purpose here at Drew’s Transformational Resort is magical rejuvenation, helping magicians such as yourself regain control over your powers, and come back feeling relaxed and reborn,” Drew smirked naughtily as he spoke. Luckily, Dane didn’t notice. Drew led Dane down a small, rustic path through the resort, passing by the restaurant and then the spa, all of it looked amazing and luxurious. They stopped at a villa, and Drew opened the door. It was a simple space, but a beautiful one too: a king-sized bed with an extremely soft coconut mattress that felt like sleeping on a cloud; an outdoor shower surrounded by a wall filled with orchid vines; a door that led to the back porch, which had its own swimming pool and jacuzzi; and further out, Dane’s own little cove, which was surrounded by coconut palms and hibiscus trees. It was all spectacularly beautiful.

“Wow,” Dane said, blown away by it all.

“I really worked hard on curating unique experiences for all my guests,” Drew replied, smiling as Dane walked around his villa and took it all in. “And first on the agenda for your Ultimate Relaxation and Rejuvenation package is a whole spa day.” 

Dane turned and beamed at Drew. “Lead the way then Drew. I’m so excited for this.”

Drew smiled back and handed Dane his key card for the villa, before he led the way back up the path to the spa. As he looked around, Dane noticed a staff member at the hotel that looked like Drew. Then another one that drove a buggy. And then another at the front desk of the spa. The Drew working at the spa chuckled. “Yep, this whole resort is run by me.”

Dane laughed, impressed. “That’s amazing. So you could basically clone yourself?”

Spa-Drew nodded as he took things from Reception-Drew, leading Dane into a massage room. Dane quickly stripped out of his beach shorts and hopped onto the massage bed, while Spa-Drew placed a pair of AirPods into his ears, which began to play calming jazz music, canceling out all the noise and letting Dane doze off to sleep as Spa-Drew got to work. Once he knew that Dane was completely asleep, thanks to the binaural beats he added to keep Dane asleep in a deep trance, Drew took out a magical kit of essential oils, ointments, scrubs and tools. He smirked, and opened the bottle of plumeria essential oil.

Rubbing some between his hands, Drew began massaging Dane, kneading his back muscles and defining them even more till they were shredded. Reaching his shoulders, Drew built up Dane’s traps, and broadened his shoulders just a bit, his hands defining Dane’s delts, then worked his way down his arms and sculpting them like clay, defining them even further till they looked more youthful and strong. As Drew rubbed the oil all over Dane through the massage, a golden sun-kissed tan began to seep across Dane’s body, washing out his pale white skin until it looked like he spent a lot of time at the beach, and all his body hair receded, leaving him smooth and supple like a baby.

Drew smirked as he peeled off the towel that covered Dane’s ass. Lathering his cheeks up with more oil, he massaged them and rounded them up till they were bubbly yet firm with muscle. Finishing up the backside, Drew knuckled down on Dane’s thighs, shaping them till they were like well-defined tree trunks, and softly pressed on his calves till they gained a more aesthetic diamond shape. Upon reaching his feet, Drew squeezed every part –stretching Dane’s toes, knuckling his soles and pressing his ankles, till Dane’s feet shrunk by just a bit to accommodate his now slightly shorter stature.

Drew took a good look at Dane’s backside before turning him over, lifting Dane up with ease as if he were a paper doll. Once Dane was fully turned around, Drew chuckled as he continued pouring more oil all over Dane’s body. Fondling Dane’s pecs, Drew squeezed the soft, supple man-tits till the hairs receded and the pecs were more sculpted and firm with muscle, then worked down on his abs and sculpted each one till the ridges were sharply defined and looked like a washboard. Since the legs were technically done, Drew simply ran his oiled-up hands over the quads and shins, which caused any remaining leg hairs to completely disappear, then lifted up Dane’s arms to pour a strong, musky oil into it, rubbing it into his pits until the rest of his body began emanating the same intense smell.

Dane’s body was completely transformed, from looking like a big muscular Daddy to a young bodybuilder physique, but Drew wasn’t quite done yet. He smirked as he lifted the still-sleeping Dane across the room to a parlor chair, then grabbing the rest of his tools. First things first, Drew applied some shaving cream onto Dane’s face, massaging it deep into his jaw, then pulled out a razor and began shaving off all of Dane’s stubble and precious mustache. No stubble or facial hair was left behind, as Drew left Dane’s face squeaky clean like a baby. Grabbing the aftershave, he mixed it with some of the plumeria oil and massaged it into Dane’s face. It began to reshape, as his skin began to pull tighter as it regained its youth, pulling Dane back a few years in appearance till it looked like he was in his mid-20s, but the aftershave prevented him from growing any facial hair again. 

As he kept up his work, Drew massaged the upper part of Dane’s face, the golden tan creeping up and washing his face, as Drew reshaped Dane’s eyes to have a more almond-like, distinctly Asian shape, while plucking out his eyebrows to define them further and make them look less bushy. Carefully, Drew opened Dane’s eyes and popped in a pair of dark brown, permanent contacts, and pierced Dane’s ears with simple silver diamond studs, making him look even more youthful. Finally, Drew pulled out a pair of scissors, a shaver and a comb, and cut off Dane’s luscious locks till his hair was shorter, with tapered fades on the sides, like a jock’s type of haircut, then topped it off by rubbing some coconut oil into hi hair until Dane’s rich brown waves turned jet black and straight. Dane was too deep in slumber to notice anything amiss, or even feel what was going on, he just felt very relaxed.

Once it was all finished, within just an hour of Dane’s arrival at the resort, Spa-Drew handed Dane over to one of the other Drews, who took him back to his villa, and dressed him up in a tank top, gym shorts and sneakers, and pulled out the AirPods. The magic of the massage and the oils Drew used had definitely rejuvenated him, and had helped rebuild the strength of his magical powers, but gave him a completely new appearance.

It was around sunset when Dane finally woke up, feeling plenty rested after having slept for most of the day. He smiled. “Fuck me, that –” Dane shut his mouth. His voice. It sounded different. Younger, for sure, but it wasn’t the deep, gravelly voice he knew to be his own. He looked down and saw a fitter, more shredded body than his, and his eyes widened. He rushed over to the mirror, and finally saw what had happened – he looked nothing like how he came in – he now had the appearance of a young Asian jock.

“Do you like the new look?” Drew said, leaning against the doorframe leading to the cove. “Enjoy your vacation, Dane. Just relax, get away from it all, and enjoy the new body – it’s yours until you get bored of it!” Drew chuckled as he ran off, leaving Dane stunned.

How will he explain this to Wavell when he goes back?

-----

I hope you all enjoyed this story!

Speaking of commissions, I will be opening up commissions to everyone very soon - keep your eyes peeled for a detailed post on it!

You can also tip me over on ko-fi, if you can't or don't want to commission! You don't have to tip me, but any support is always welcome.

#male tf #massage tf #mrwavellswaps #tf-lover #race tf #jock tf

[cainanders]

wildfire 005

[001] [002] [003] [004]

warnings: oral sex, daddy kink, spitting, dirty talk, hand kink, biting, a little bit of praise kink, lots of teasing, fluff (i think that’s all, i’m sorry if i’ve missed anything).

a/n: the penultimate chapter of wildfire! sorry for the delay. it’s shorter than the last parts. hopefully i’ll be able to get the final part posted sooner rather than later, and be open to inspiration for new works. please enjoy!

Four days have passed. Four excruciating days, during which Cody made your life a living hell.

He always made sure to brush up against you when he would walk by, sometimes placing his hand on the small of your back. You would often catch him looking at you from across rooms of people, his eyes half-lidded and his bottom lip between his teeth. Sometimes, you were sure you’d see him run his hand over himself, rubbing at the bulge in his pants.

Cody would never be alone with you, but would still invite you to his hotel room each night, a playful glint in his eyes every time. You’d turn him down, thinking that would give you the upper hand, but judging from the way that Cody would grin after each time you deny him, you were playing into his hand.

Monday rolls around, and you’re tasked with photographing a few promo shots in the hours leading up to Raw. This keeps you away from Cody, but your mind stays on him. You try to stay focused on your work, making sure to talk to all of the superstars that you hadn’t had the chance to catch up with yet.

When you finally finish the promo shoot, you pack up your equipment, and make your way around the arena to take a few behind the scenes photos. As you find the locker rooms, you find Cody’s room, with the door open a few inches.

“Cody?” you call out, knocking lightly on the door. “Are you in here?”

“Yeah, come on in,” he replies. You slip into the room, immediately moving to set your bags down but keeping your camera in your hands. “Busy day?” Cody’s voice comes from behind you.

“Yeah, it was boring, though,” you laugh, turning around to face him.

You’ve seen Cody shirtless before, sure. So has the rest of the world. And you’ve seen Cody after he’s showered. But you’ve never seen Cody, moments after stepping out of the shower, still slightly damp, with a towel wrapped around his hips. Maybe it was because any time you’d see Cody even remotely underdressed, it was when you were still playing at being friends. But now that the truth is out, the sight of him sends a flush over your whole body, your hands squeezing your camera and inadvertently snapping a picture.

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the camera as though you forgot how to use it.

“Uh-oh,” Cody teases. “What happened there?” You shake your head, glancing back to Cody briefly to see his hands on his hips.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pressing through the menu in the camera to pull the picture up on the screen. Cody was blurry in the picture, barely in frame as it was shot from waist high, so you quickly delete it, hoping to erase the memory along with it.

“If you wanted me to do a Playgirl shoot, you could have just asked,” Cody jokes, with a smirk. “I think I’d be a better centerfold than HBK, don’t you?”

You look back to him again, biting your lip when you see that he’s now grasping the towel where it’s wrapped. He loosens it enough to push it just past his hip bones, pausing for a moment to make sure you’re still watching him, before he pushes a little further until you get a glimpse of trimmed hair just beneath the towel.

You pry your eyes away from Cody’s towel, looking into his eyes as you start to raise your camera slowly towards your face. Cody grins wider, allowing you to take a photograph of him.

“How’s it look?” he asks, as you check the screen of the camera to view the picture. As you part your lips to respond, Cody creeps up beside you, pressing against your side so he can look as well. “Not bad,” he whispers. “I’ll drop the towel if you want to take another one.”

“No, no,” you chuckle, taking a step away from him. “I’m not falling for this shit.”

“What?” Cody replies, trying to feign shock at your response but he can’t help laughing.

“I know all you’re gonna do is tease me and then leave,” you say. “Because you think you’re funny, or whatever.”

“You can’t handle a little teasing, babe?” he grins, tilting his head to the side and peering into your eyes as he steps closer to you.

“Cody, I’m serious,” you warn, holding your hand out towards him. “Listen to me. We’re less than twenty four hours away from being able to have some genuine time alone together. Let’s not forget who was the one who decided that we were gonna wait. Now, I love that you tease, and usually, I’ll give it right back to you. But right now is not the time. If you keep doing this shit, I’m not going anywhere with you tomorrow, and you’ll have a nice, fun three days to spend with your fucking hand.” When you stop, you notice the smirk on Cody’s lips almost immediately.

“So, you’re counting down the hours until we’re alone together, huh?” Cody says. As you begin to tell him off again, he shakes his head. “I’ll stop teasing,” he adds. “I’m sorry, I just love watching you squirm.” Cody closes the distance you put between the two of you, placing his hand on your lower back to keep you close only for a moment. Dipping his head down, he gives you a soft kiss on the lips, before pulling back. “That was kinda hot, by the way,” he whispers. “You telling me off like that.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” you say. “I hate being that person. You just know how to get under my skin.”

“After this week, I’ll know how to do a lot more than that to you, babe,” Cody says.

“C’mon!” you exclaim, slapping him playfully on the chest, which causes him to recoil with a laugh.

“Last one, I swear!”

For the remainder of the night, Cody keeps his hands and his comments to himself, acting as though you were just friends. You’re mostly thankful for this, however, a small part of your brain wants him to keep teasing.

At the end of the night, you make sure to leave the venue before Cody can find you, heading to the hotel to settle in your room. While you are changing into your pajamas, you get a text from Cody.

I thought you’d stay in my room tonight, so we can leave together in the morning.

You don’t trust Cody to leave you alone that night. As much as you want to be in that hotel room with him, you know he would keep teasing, because he wants to see you break first. With a deep breath in, you let Cody know that you’re going to stay in your own room and will see him in the morning.

You climb into the bed, settling down in the covers to get comfortable. Your phone buzzes at your side, but you ignore it for a moment, to turn off the light on the side table. Briefly, you think you might continue to ignore the text that’s undoubtedly from Cody, just to give him a taste of his own medicine, but you decide to check anyway.

You know that you shouldn’t be surprised, but when you open the message to find a shirtless mirror selfie of Cody, you’re tempted to roll your eyes. Instead, your mind wanders, thinking of the possibilities the next few days hold. You decide to call him, without thinking of what you might say - he picks up after one ring.

“That desperate, huh?” he asks.

“You’re the one who picked up in one ring, Cody,” you reply. “And you’re the one trying to bait me into your room. I think you’re the desperate one.” He lets out a chuckle that turns into a sigh.

“Okay, full disclosure?”

“Go for it.”

“As much as I’m looking forward to the other stuff,” Cody says with a small laugh. “I missed you, babe. I missed sharing a hotel room with you, talking to you, watching stupid movies.” He lets out another chuckle before continuing. “I missed waking up to you saying my name,” he adds.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“In your sleep,” he replies. “You’d say my name a lot. Well, more like whimpering and moaning.” Your cheeks flush at his words, not having been aware that you’d had any dreams that would make you do that. “It wasn’t always like that,” Cody continues. “Sometimes, you’d sound scared.”

“Scared of you?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “More like you were having a nightmare or something. So, I’d hold your hand and tell you that you were safe, and you’d calm down.”

“You big softy!” you tease. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? That’s really sweet, Cody. You’d hold my hand?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I always want you to feel safe with me.” The tears threaten to well up at your eyes, but you wipe them away.

“Are you trying to manipulate me into coming over there by saying cute shit?”

“Of course not,” he laughs. “Why, is it working?”

“A little,” you respond. “Honestly, the picture was more tempting.”

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“I don’t know…” you trail off, finding yourself unprepared to talk dirty on the phone at that moment.

“It’s just me, babe.”

“I need to get my hands on you.”

“And I’m the desperate one?”

“I guess we both are,” you reply. “But I’m not going to come over there tonight. We’ll just have to wait until we get to your house tomorrow.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Cody says. “I did make you wait a whole week, I guess I can wait a few hours.”

“Nine hours,” you say. “And I’m all yours.”

“You’d better get some rest then,” he responds. “You’re gonna need your energy.”

“Goodnight, Cody,” you laugh.

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

——————

Cody’s house is bigger than you expected, especially for a man who lives alone. You assume it’s the same house he shared with his ex wife, but opt not to bring it up right away, in an effort not to spoil the mood.

As soon as the two of you arrive at his house, Cody explains that he needs to run to the store for a few things, and encourages you to explore the house to feel more comfortable. You wonder if he can sense your nerves and wants to give you some space to get acclimated without him watching. You do as he suggests, and wander through every room in the house.

On your journey through the house, you see a baseball hat that catches your eye. The black hat with white lettering that says ‘call me Daddy’ makes you think back to the night that Cody called you. You wonder if he purchased the hat afterwards as a joke or if it was something that he owned for a while.

After you change into some boxer shorts and a t-shirt, you settle onto the sofa and scroll through apps on your phone, waiting for Cody’s return. You feel yourself become sleepy from sitting in one spot, staring at a screen, so you maneuver onto your back with your head on the arm rest. You aren’t sure how long you lay there before falling asleep.

You awaken in Cody’s arms as he’s carrying you bridal style up the stairs. For a moment, it doesn’t feel real, but when he glances down at you with a chuckle, you feel it rumble through his chest.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl,” he mutters. “I’m bringing you to bed.” As soon as Cody lays you down on the bed, and you see that he’s still wearing your favorite suit, you grab his arm to stop him. You sit up on your knees, your hands fumbling with his belt buckle. “What are you doing, hm?” he asks, still grinning at you.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whisper.

“What do you want, then?”

“I want you, Cody.”

“How bad?” he asks, gently stopping your hands. “Hm? How bad do you want me?”

“So fucking bad,” you reply, voice weak. Cody grins, unfastening his watch and crossing to place it on the dresser. He sits at the foot of the bed and removes shoes, taking the time to put them away in the closet. You can tell he’s trying to drag it out still. “C’mon, Cody,” you whine.

“Okay, babe,” he chuckles, leaving the rest of his clothes on and finally maneuvering onto the bed. He urges you to lay on your back again before he kneels between your legs.

Cody kisses you without warning and you inhale sharply, grasping his shoulders. He takes your breath away with the kiss, causing you to pull away sooner than you would like. You hold his face gently between your hands, peering into his eyes, as if you’re trying to read his mind. He laughs softly, leaning back in for another kiss.

Cody kisses as though he’s just as desperate as you are, his teeth coming in contact with your lips, nipping so hard, you wonder if you’ll taste blood. When he kisses across your cheek towards your neck, leaving bites in his wake, you feel how swollen your lips have become already. As Cody reaches your pulse, he bites down harder than you expect, and you let out a strangled whine.

“Fuck!” you gasp, arching your back to press against his body.

“Are you mine now?” Cody asks, kissing your neck, hands grabbing your thighs to hold them snug against his hips. “Hmm? You belong to me?”

“Yes, all yours,” you breathe. Cody hums, gently biting at your pulse this time and grinding himself against you. “Fuck, Cody,” you whine, grabbing handfuls of his jacket.

“Mmm, no, no,” he mumbles, leaning back onto his knees to look down at you. “You know what I want to hear.” You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m yours, daddy,” you whisper.

“Damn,” he grins. “It’s even better in person.”

Cody licks his lips, eyes wandering over your body, your boxer shorts and t-shirt making you feel exceptionally underdressed compared to his black suit. His eyes keep traveling down until he looks down at his own pants, noticing that the damp patch that you left on his crotch from when he was grinding against you. The sight makes you blush, embarrassed by how wet you are from such minimal action.

“What’s got you so fucking hot, hm?” he asks, wiping the dampness from his pants with two fingers.

“The suit,” you reply without thinking, too lost in the sight of Cody cleaning the taste of you from his fingers. “Fuck.” Your face heats up more as you realize how desperate your voice sounded. Cody grins wider, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip.

“So it’s that fucking easy with you, huh?” he whispers, taking hold of your thighs again. “All I have to do is put on a fucking suit, and you’re drenched.” Cody yanks you by your thighs, pulling you closer to him. “Any other kinks you wanna share with me, baby girl?” he continues, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“Not yet,” you reply, nuzzling your head against his and slipping your arms around his torso beneath his jacket. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his waistcoat feeling the warmth of his skin radiating through the layers.

“What if I told you…” he begins, slipping his hand under your shirt to cup your breast over your bra. “That I want to eat your pussy? You’ve been so good this week, putting up with all of my teasing…let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

Your breath comes out shuddered, which you don’t expect. Cody’s fingers tease your nipple through your bra, as he continues to bite your neck. You’re desperate to find your words to respond to Cody, but when he grinds against you, all you can do is moan. You grasp Cody’s face, pulling him back so you can peer into his eyes once again.

“I don’t have to,” he says, softy. “If you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“I trust you, Cody,” you whisper. “Ever since you first brought it up last year, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what your tongue would feel like…and your fingers...” Cody smirks, listening to how breathless you sound before you’ve even started.

“Yeah?” he asks, sitting back on his knees, peering down at you. “Let’s get these off then.”

Cody begins to tug your boxers and panties down, so you lift your hips to allow him to remove them. You sit up quickly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it away. Cody leans in to kiss you, his hand moving behind your back to unhook your bra. As soon as the clothing is off of your body, Cody moves off of the bed, yanking your body so your legs hang off the edge of the bed while you rest flat on the mattress.

As he removes his jacket, his eyes are on you, tilting his head to peer between your legs. When he rolls up his sleeves, the gaze he sets on you makes you feel vulnerable, so you instinctively begin to pull your thighs together.

“Uh-uh,” Cody says, leaning over to rest a hand on the bed beside you and using his other hand to ease your legs apart again. “Don’t be shy, baby girl. It’s just me.”

Before you can respond, you feel Cody’s fingertips teasing along your thighs towards your core. As soon as his fingers come in contact with your slickness, pressing to your clit for a moment, you inhale sharply which makes Cody smirk.

“You haven’t been touched in so long, huh?” he asks, bringing his fingers to his lips. He parts his lips and sticks his tongue to lick the taste of you from the pads of his fingers, maintaining eye contact with you. When he wraps his lips around his fingers, sucking every last taste of you from them, you grasp his wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth so you can kiss him.

The taste of yourself on Cody’s tongue makes your head spin, and you find yourself desperate to have his head between your thighs. You place your hands on either side of his face, pulling him back so you can kiss along his jaw towards his neck. His hand finds its way back to your clit, teasing it softly but enough to make your body twitch.

“Cody,” you whine against his skin. “Please.”

“Please what, baby girl? Tell me what you need. I’ll do anything you fucking need me to do.” When Cody’s fingers start to rub circles on your clit, you respond by biting his neck to stifle your groan. “Fuck,” he whispers in your ear, bumping his head against yours. “Tell me.”

“I want you…”

Unable to focus due to Cody’s fingers still toying with your clit, you trail off with a soft moan, pushing Cody to lean back enough to see his eyes. You hope he can read it in your face, but he just stares back at you with his lips parted, waiting for you to speak. You urge him backwards, trying to guide him where you want him, so he kneels on the floor between your spread legs, waiting.

“Say it,” Cody commands, hands resting on your knees. “If you say it, I’ll do it.”

“Fuck, please eat my pussy,” you beg, cupping his jaw. “Please, Cody.”

“Anything for you, baby girl.”

Cody pushes your thighs further apart, before he leans in, giving a gentle bite to your inner thigh. He cuts his eyes to your face as his tongue begins to tease your clit. His tongue moves tenderly, ghosting as if it’s not even there, traveling to your entrance to push the tip in just for a moment. He flicks his tongue over your clit again, which causes you to roll your hips against his face.

“You taste so good,” he breathes against you.

Cody takes his time, teasing your clit to make sure you’re as wet as possible. His breath comes in soft pants against you, his tongue working with precision. You can’t help the way you moan, desperate and loud, grinding yourself against his face to urge him on.

“Calm down,” he whispers. “Just feel it.” You listen to Cody’s instructions, relaxing into the bed to focus on what he’s doing.

The concept of time escapes you, seconds stretching out into minutes until you feel like Cody’s been teasing you for hours. Slow and steady, his tongue swirls and laps, open mouth breaths escaping him. When his tongue pushes into your entrance once again, this time deeper, your body lurches in surprise, your hands grabbing for him.

“Easy, easy,” Cody mutters. “I’ll give you what you need.” As you feel his fingers slowly creeping around your entrance, you spread your legs wider, making Cody chuckle against you. “You’re fucking desperate when it comes to my fingers, huh? Why is that?”

“I don’t—”

All words escape you as Cody slips one finger inside of you, still teasing your clit so slow it’s maddening. You can hear how wet you are as his finger pumps into you at a snail’s pace. Cody’s free hand reaches for you, lacing his fingers with yours. Wiggling your hips and pressing your heels into Cody’s sides, you hope he takes the hint to stop teasing.

“Mmm,” he hums, giving you a quick glance. “Are you rushing me? Got somewhere else to be?”

“I just fucking want you,” is all you’re able to reply.

“You have me, baby girl. Now, let me concentrate.”

This time, when he dips back between your legs, his tongue is pressing harder, more urgent as it swirls around your clit. The way his tongue moves, flicking faster and with more expertise than you imagined possible, makes your body tremble. You’d never felt anything quite like it, and already you feel the tightness beginning to form within you. Cody, as if he senses your approaching orgasm, starts to suck on your clit, much to your surprise. Your gasp turns into a moan, overwhelmed with the sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan. “Cody, fuck, don’t stop.”

You hate to admit that Cody was right. You hadn’t felt like this whenever anyone else had gone down on you, but you don’t want to tell him. While you’re briefly distracted with your thoughts, Cody slips a second finger inside of you pumping faster. Your back arches off of the bed, pushing yourself closer against his face.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moan, letting go of his hand and threading your fingers through his short hair to tug him closer. Cody growls against you, never faltering his pace. “It feels so fucking good,” you mutter, grabbing for Cody’s hand again. “Fuck, fuck!”

Cody curls his fingers, pumping faster as he continues to lick your clit. With a breathless groan, you peer down at him to see that he’s looking up at you already, his eyes devious. You tug his hand towards you, slipping two of his fingers into your mouth. He leans away, kissing and biting your inner thighs while his fingers continue to pump into you.

“You look so good right now,” Cody mutters. “The way you’re sucking on my fingers, moaning like that, you’ve got me so fucking hard.” You pull his fingers from your mouth, knitting your brows together as you try to make your voice stronger than you feel.

“I wanna suck your dick so fucking bad,” you pant, as Cody uses his now free hand to tease your clit.

“Yeah? You do?” Cody smirks, biting your thigh harder. “Maybe I’ll let you…maybe.” You know his eyes are still on you so you relax onto the bed, running your hands over your stomach and your breasts. Your fingers toy with your nipples and; even though you’re trying to put on a little bit of a show for Cody, you find yourself responding to your own touch. “Feels good?” Cody’s voice is slightly strained, as if he’s losing his composure.

“Mmhm,” you hum, peering back at him.

“Ya’know, you’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight,” he whispers, kissing your inner thigh. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle my dick.”

“Please, c’mon,” you whimper. “I wanna…I wanna come!”

“Yeah, you’re close already, I can tell. But you know what? I think I can make you squirt without even using my fingers. What do you think?”

Without warning, Cody pulls his fingers out of you and dives back in face first. He uses his fingers to keep you spread so he can focus fully on your clit. Your body is trembling and your breath is coming out quickly, missing with moans and pleading Cody’s name.

Both of Cody’s arms hook under your thighs, pulling you even closer to him as he sucks and licks your clit. You tighten your thighs around his head, grinding against his face as your climax approaches.

“Oh, God, Cody!” you exclaim, grabbing onto his forearms.

Even with your legs clamped around his head, Cody’s own moans are loud enough to be heard along with the sloppy way he eats you out. His fingers dig into your thighs firm enough to leave bruises, keeping you from wiggling away as you finally begin to unravel.

You’re reduced to moans and whimpers, spouting out pleads that barely make sense. Cody keeps working you through your climax and you immediately worry he’s going to keep going to get another from you, so you try to pry his hands away.

“Please wait,” you gasp, finding his grip to be much stronger than you have the capacity to overpower. “I need a sec, baby. Fuck!”

Cody chuckles, finally letting you go so he can sit back and peer up at you. Looking down at him through half lidded eyes, you can see the mess you’ve made of him. His face is wet, along with his shirt and waistcoat. You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed at how sloppy you must look.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” Cody grins. “Better than I ever imagined.” Your body continues to tremble, as you ride through the residual waves. Your eyes slip closed, your lips parted to let out quick pants. “Talk to me, baby girl,” Cody whispers, kissing your inner thigh. “You okay?”

“I’m…fuck, that was so good, Cody. I really liked that.”

“I could tell,” he laughs, continuing to kiss and lick softly at your inner thighs. “I wanted to get another one out of you, but I think I got a little carried away for your first one.”

“Come here,” you whisper, reaching for him.

Leaving one more kiss on your thigh, Cody moves so he is leaned over you, bracing himself on the mattress with both hands. You gently take hold of his face, pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss stays tender at first, soft and sensual, until you are overcome with desire, leading you to kiss and lick along his jaw and neck. You taste yourself on his skin, and you follow the trail down to his throat.

“You’re gonna leave marks,” Cody mutters.

“Do you want me to stop?” you breathe against his neck.

“No,” he chuckles.

“Does that mean I can leave marks wherever I want?” you ask.

“I don’t have a match until next weekend, so I’m all yours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With all the energy you can muster, you push him gently to stand upright, and urge him to switch with you. When he sits on the edge of the bed, you kneel in front of him, fingers finding the buckle of his belt.

“Hey, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you reply, glancing up at him. “Believe me, I really fucking want to.” He smirks, and nods his head, so you continue to undo his pants. “Jesus, Cody,” you mumble, pulling his length free and finally getting an eyeful of what he’s been bragging about.

“I told you,” he grins back. “I would have let you have it a long time ago.”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you,” you reply, your hand gently wrapping around his erection. “I would have let you fuck me over a fucking pinball machine at that arcade if you wanted to.”

“Yeah?” Cody smirks wider. “I bet you fucking would have. You’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?” Nodding your head slowly and peering up at Cody from beneath your lashes, you run your thumb over his tip to collect his pre cum. Making sure he keeps his eyes on you, you raise your hand to your mouth and lick the taste of him from your thumb.

“Mmm,” you hum, blinking slowly, teasing Cody. “I can’t wait to taste more.”

You stroke your hand over Cody’s slowly, sitting up higher on your knees so you can slowly spit to coat over his length. He lets out a soft him, and you glance up at him to see him loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top two shirt buttons. With your eyes still on Cody, you tease the head of his erection with the tip of your tongue.

“You’re so big, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to handle it,” you whisper, licking from his base to the tip, making sure to get a taste of the pre cum that’s leaking. Cody lets out a small hum, spreading his knees a little wider for you, inviting you in closer.

You swirl your tongue around his tip before taking it between your lips, sucking softly while your hand strokes lazily over him. Listening to the way Cody’s breathing starts to falter only slightly from your actions, you decide to take him a little further into your mouth.

Cody hums, putting his hand on your shoulder briefly, his fingers curling slightly behind your neck. When his thumb presses softly against your throat, you let out a small whimper, thinking about Cody choking you. You pull back, looking into his eyes to see that teasing glint you’ve grown accustomed to.

“You’re distracting me,” you whisper, still stroking your hand over him. “And I really, really want to do this. Please.”

“Are you…begging to suck my dick?”

“Does that turn you on?” you ask, sitting up higher to lean towards Cody’s face. “Me, on my knees, begging for your dick? Because I’m so fucking desperate for you?” Your hand starts pumping faster, adding a twist along with each stroke. Cody nods his head slowly, letting out quiet panting breaths as though he’s trying to maintain composure. “Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your dick. I fucking need to.”

“Need to,” Cody echoes, his voice low. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as his thumb runs across your bottom lip, then slips into your mouth, easing your jaw open. When you stick your tongue out of your mouth, Cody cuts his gaze to the action before back into your eyes. Leaning a little closer to you, he spits onto your tongue, before pushing your mouth closed. “Good girl,” he breathes.

You rest back into your haunches enough to take Cody’s length into your mouth, bobbing your head along with the motions of your hand. You’re sure you can feel Cody’s eyes on you, undoubtedly watching your every move. When he groans, you move faster, adjusting your jaw just a bit so that your teeth gently scrape. The action makes Cody inhale sharply, and you notice one of his hands grab a handful of the comforter below him.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “You love this, don’t you?” You hum a ‘yes’ in response, purposefully dragging out the hum to send vibrations through Cody’s shaft. The small moan that he lets out is vulnerable, completely uncharacteristic of him, but it only drives you to move faster.

Each movement takes Cody deeper into your mouth, so you place your hands on his thighs, opting to only use your mouth. Your pace quickens, bobbing your head, and hollowing out your cheeks as you try to take him as far as you can. Relaxing your throat you feel yourself taking him deeper than you expected, so you bring one of your hands back to steady him at the base of his shaft.

As soon as he hits the back of your throat, you pause, holding him as deep as you can for as long as you can. The noise that Cody releases is between a whimper and a moan, strangled as he tries to keep composure.

You keep still as long as you can, longer than you imagined you could given Cody’s size. When you pull off of him, you drag in a deep breath, spit dripping down your chin as you try breathe. Looking up into Cody’s eyes as your hand starts to jerk him again, you feel your heart skip a beat. His mouth is open, breath staggered, his eyes on you with a look that you’ve never seen from him before.

Desperate to get him off, you take him back into your mouth, picking up the pace even faster than before and using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit into your mouth. Cody’s groans of your name mixed between breathless expletives let you know he’s getting close, so you take your free hand to cup him lower.

“Fuck,” is Cody’s strained response as you massage his balls. His legs are restless, one of his hands resting on the back of your head, fingers pressing down.

When his climax hits, you can’t help but moan along with him, swallowing everything he gives as you work him until he tries to push you away.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants. You look up at him, wanting to remember the way that he looks, knowing that you were the one who made him feel that way. “Holy shit,” Cody says, looking down to you. “That was fucking incredible.”

“You taste good,” you say. He leans down to kiss you gently, and you can feel him shaking slightly from the waves of his own orgasm.

“I think you taste better,” he whispers against your lip. “Better than candy.” When you bite your lip, Cody smiles, a softer, less cocky smile than he normally gives you. He reaches for your shirt that lays on the floor and uses it to wipe your chin. “So, how about a shower?” Cody asks, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Together?”

“Of course,” he replies, helping you along with him so you’re both on your feet. “We can go for a drive, and then come back home so I can make you dinner. How does that sound?”

“Really good,” you mumble. “I love you, Rhodey.” He smiles and kisses your forehead.

“I love you, too, baby.”

#cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes x reader

[failing-to-write-again]

Baby Photos Part 2!

Part 1

Since the lovely asker @lilithram did say to pick between Sakamaki baby photos or reader baby photos, I chose both. While the previous part was less overall fluff and more early relationship I decided to make this one closer to an established relationship. I’m a bit nervous about making the boys ooc so any feedback on parts that are good and in character or those less in character would help me work to tailor my writing.

I worked under the ages proposed by @diabolik-shu-lover from this post.

Shu Sakamaki

Visiting le château de Heinz wasn’t your ideal vacation spot if you were to be completely honest. Unfortunately a major downside to dating a crown prince is how business minded people are going to be about your relationship. Shu had delayed taking you here, sharing his wish to live a more ordinary life until his accession, and even then he still wanted to have a more “normal” relationship. So far your little trip had consisted of a dinner with Shu and his father where he quizzed you on your life, followed by two days of loneliness where Shu was kept away by business of some kind with his father. 

Waking up to day 3 of being alone you elected to at least try to find some evidence of Shu’s childhood you could tease him on. There had to be some silly sailor uniform or ruffled collar from when he was a small Victorian lad. Wandering the halls the castle was a thousand times creepier than the Sakamaki manor had ever been, especially when you were left without a lazy vampire keeping an eye on you. Karl Heinz had requested that his sons not kill you but that was before you began dating the son most likely to be forced into some arranged marriage. It didn’t help that the staff weren’t hidden familiars, they were standing in every room just looking… creepy.

Eventually your exploration landed you in a gallery, paintings decorated the hall with spotlights above each painting. Many seemed very old and depicted pretty women in the castle gardens at night. One of these paintings had a woman you were convinced was Shu and Reiji’s mother. She was under a gazebo in a red dress staring lovingly at someone standing somewhere behind the painting. 

“This must’ve been back when they were all in love before Cordelia.” You mumbled to yourself, turning away and continuing down the hall. You found some more imposing portraits of men, a few being Karl Heinz himself, and some more general landscape paintings. 

After nearly 2 hours of this you found a new hall of all six Sakamaki sons in a series of paintings, VICTORY. It’s always a bit weird when you get obvious reminders of your boyfriend being 387 years old even though he looks like a 19 year old. Seeing paintings of him in severely dated clothes and poses was just bizarre, snapping a picture of him in a wig from the Georgian period was a good form of pay back for his abandonment of you these past few days. There was one painting of him unlike all the others, he looked roughly 3 or 4 and was sat in his mother’s lap with a silver rattled as he peered down at a bundle in Karl Heinz’s lap, the raven coloured hair giving it away as Reiji. He looked so curious and his father looked so happy. He was cute, with blonde curlier locks and a big round face, he looked like any modern day child meeting their younger sibling. Seeing him with eyes so awake and full of life, and no animosity between the two oldest sons of Karl Heinz.

“She kept scolding me for not sitting still.”

Shouting in shock as you turn to see your MIA boyfriend with a shit eating grin on his face at your reaction.

“What’s with that face woman, girlfriend’s are meant to be happy when they see their boyfriend’s not scream like a banshee.” Teasing you as he stepped closer, moving his hands to sit comfortably at your waist. In response you let your head fall with a thud into his chest, wrapping your arm around his back.

“Well boyfriend’s aren’t meant to tell their girlfriend’s they’re going on vacation to then vanish off for days. We never get time together in the manor without your brothers hanging around and now your dad is keeping you busier than you’ve ever been.”

Sighing, Shu buried his nose in your hair  wrapping one arm around your shoulder and another around your lower back huddling you close. “I’m sorry. That guy wouldn’t stop talking about all this protocol and other crap about properly introducing you as my chosen queen. He wanted to rush everything.”

Pulling back just enough to look up eyes wide at what he was saying. Queen, you a queen? Not to mention having to meet more creepy vampires. Sensing some of your unease, Shu smiled.

“Relax, I managed to get him to agree to a much slower schedule, you won’t be rushed off to a ball anytime soon. For now the worst of it will be seeing some property we own and meeting his close advisory staff and my other’s old staff. After I have you to myself for another few months we’re going to graduate first.”

Letting out a sigh of relief you lay your head against his shoulder, staring back up at the painting. “As a kid you were pretty cute Shu.”

“Not as cute as you as a mini ballerina,” he shot back, absentmindedly rubbing little circles against your back as he also stared at the portrait.

“If I do end up as Queen you’re not allowed to marry anyone else, I refuse to deal with the whole situation with your mothers. And you can’t ever let our kids have such a poor relationship like you and Reiji.”

“Not if, when, princess and don’t work yourself up over stupid things. You’re mine, I'm not letting some woman try to take me away ever. Seriously such bothersome thinking.”

Leaning down he gently kissed you, as if you were so delicate and precious. Looking up at blue eyes finally looking awake and closer to that childhood Shu then he had in centuries.

Reiji Sakamaki

“The box I’m looking for is about as big as an envelope, and has a leather strap holding it shut. Let me know if you spot it.”

“Alright, anywhere you’d prefer I don’t look. I don’t want to run into some secret Laito porn stash up here.”

You hear Reiji chuckle at that. “Laito doesn’t come up here, too many spiders. I do not care where you go, we are partners, we agreed no secrets right.”

That made you smile, your relationship with Reiji was the fruit of a long journey of trying to reach an understanding. For a while you were both not fully able to understand each other, and while no relationship is perfect, especially yours, hiccups that would’ve caused serious arguments before were now easier to settle over tea. It felt good to feel like a respected partner.

Looking through the attic for this mystery box was a good time to find mementos to learn more about Reiji. Looking through older books and boxes of clothes or unused houseware most of the items in this portion of the attic seemed unimportant. Reiji focused his search on the opposite side of the room where the ceiling was higher, you were shorter than the 6ft man so were less uncomfortable searching where the roof sloped down. A small dusty window allowed some of the early morning light to stream in. Reiji had begun waking later during holidays to allow you both to have a day that had more sunlight for you. He claimed it was to reduce risk of seasonal depression or vitamin D deficiency, with the added benefit of allowing you both to go to museums and other date locations. Waking at 12am gave you the opportunity to see sunrises daily, and if you were honest the view of your boyfriend in the hazy early morning glow was always a welcome sight. 

“You’re staring.” 

“I see nothing wrong with admiring my boyfriend”

He let a smile sigh pass his lips as he smiled, shaking his head. Looking back down at the stack of cardboard boxes he was rifling through. You pull your eyes away and back to the room around you, you spot something sticking out behind a shelf. Pulling it out you find a handful of photos and a small box. The photos were black and white, Daguerreotypes, on metal sheets. The images showed a younger Reiji taking what looked like test photos. Some were of him, slightly blurred from incorrect technique, others of items. The last photo was much clearer and was of Reiji sitting in a chair with a book in his lap. He must’ve gotten a familiar to take the photo. 

“Hey Reiji can I take these down? I don’t know how to store such photos though.”

Looking up Reiji walked over, taking the photos from you to look through. He picked up a box placing them inside before handing them to you,

“I will have the familiars store them properly and make scans so you can have more stable prints of them. If you wish to have images of me to display however, I would prefer you take more modern photos with both of us.”

Smiling down at the box of photos, Reiji spoke again.

“Smiling over such trivial things as a few photos, you should be harder to please.”

“You’re probably the first man to ever say that Reiji, besides it’s nice to have childhood photos of each other. I only have my locket but what happens when your children ask to see what you looked like as a child?”

“Our children will have plenty of paintings of me to see at my father’s castle, and if we are so lucky your only response will be that they look exactly as you did as a child.” Adjusting his glasses Reiji knelt down and picked up the box you had also pulled out with the photos. Meanwhile as his words set in your face flushed slightly.

“Our children…Reiji you shouldn’t say that stuff so casually. Besides, why would you want them to look like me? I'm human.”

That was not a response he liked, gently lifting your chin with his thumb and pointer finger Reiji looked you in the eye as he spoke. “Our children should be as pretty or handsome as their mother. I’m insulted you think, after all we’ve been through, I have not grown out of the belief that blood is a final decider in terms of superiority. You are superior, you are who I want, you alone are my partner and equal so strong as to be able to hold my heart in your hands. Am I clear?”

Your blush darkens as Reiji flusters you further, you can only nod your head in response to such strong compliments said so earnestly. Smiling Reiji’s thumb gently swiped over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you. Reiji always kisses you with the aim to convey all of his feelings for you, as if you will never be able to kiss him again. Moving in tandem you ended up leaning against a shelf with Reiji’s arm pinning you there, your arms holding onto his collar to prevent him pulling away too soon. 

Unfortunately, Reiji has to ensure you take in air so moves back. Opening the box, he removes a key, turning it over in his hands.

“This key is to my father’s laboratory here, he used it when he was visiting us as children. I sealed it off years ago and elected to use my room for my experiments. However, due to the chemicals it is not safe for you to sleep there so they must be moved.” 

“What’s wrong with my room?”

“It is a guest room, I’m not going to sleep every night in a guest bedroom in my own home. No, my room must be altered to fit its needs and to do so I shall reclaim the laboratory as my own to allow you to rest safely.”

All you could do is follow along as Reiji began to return back downstairs, gazing down at the box of pictures. Looking at the sad younger Reiji you couldn’t help but compare him to the cool, confident man he had become.

Ayato Sakamaki

Ayato had demanded you meet him in the garden of the castle that evening, something about having something special to show you. You weren’t sure what to expect really, surprises with Ayato were often either very nice or sweet but messy failures. Breakfast in bed when you’ve never cooked before was a bad idea in hindsight, even he had to admit. Still as the night started to fade into dawn you made your way to the gardens, examining the sights around you as you went. 

The father of the Sakamaki’s had summoned them to return for some festival of sorts. Ayato had been vague in describing it, rather unhappy to be returning. It seemed like some carnival was being set up, you hoped it was a carnival anyway. As you ponder the pros of encouraging Ayato’s competitiveness to win you stuffed toys you eventually reach the garden. Opening the glass doors you see Ayato sitting on a blanket, under the stone gazebo and some candles lit around. He had a few plates of your favourite deserts around as well as takoyaki. He grinned as you approached, arms crossed and pride beaming from his face.

“I set this all up, yours truly is the best boyfriend ever, and I have a present for you.” Pulling out a box with a bow stuck on the lid, he gestured for you to open it. You sat down cross legged, opening the box to reveal a collection of photos. 

Lifting some out you realise these were the photos Ayato had burnt after he had first met you, before you had started dating. They looked untouched. Ayato, not trusting your silence, began to speak again.

“Ore-sama got the familiars to find copies and I had those losers in the tech club at school print them. They couldn't say no to yours truly. Do you like it?”

“Why did you do all this, you threw them into the fire.” Ayato blushed before looking away, a hand on his neck.

“I…felt…bad about making you cry like that. It’s only fun when you cry from my bites, not over that stuff.” 

Your sniffling brought his attention back to you, panic spreading across his face. Pulling you into his lap and holding you close as his brain froze trying to find the best course of action. Your hands rising up to hold his cheeks as you attempted to calm down, a smile on your face.

“It’s ok, they’re happy tears. I’m happy Ayato.”

“Are you sure, don’t lie to yours truly.”

“I’m not, I swear! Thank you Ayato, these photos are important to me.”

Sighing in relief, Ayato leant back letting his head thunk against one of the gazebo pillars. 

“Damn it, you’re not meant to cry when Ore-sama gives you gifts.”

Running his fingers along your back. You began rifling through some of the photos noticing some new additions to the collection. There, between the photos of a younger you were pictures of you and Ayato on various dates. You, completely unaware of the camera while Ayato was looking and seemingly taking each photo. There was also one picture of a painting, it was of three boys with the child on the left resembling a much younger version of your boyfriend. 

“I didn’t know you had any childhood photos of Ayato.”

“It’s the only one, you can’t have a collection of photos without one of yours truly to admire.”

Giggling you sit back leaning against his chest while you both began to enjoy your picnic and company. 

Laito Sakamaki

You were currently facing a big problem, for some reason the 2nd year history department had decided to assign a project discussing your family history…in detail. So you were currently stressed out of your mind trying to figure out how to worm your way out of this one. Laito was covered, his family history well laid out as a royal and all of his ancestors having false human lives, it basically wrote itself. Yet here you were unable to write anything. It’s not that you were necessarily ashamed of your orphan status, and your close companions now also ‘brides’ of the Sakamaki’s were virtually sisters and you could maybe write about them. But people always got weird about orphans, and while you weren’t ashamed to be one by any means, being Laito’s girlfriend let alone a Sakamaki girlfriend involved gossip, it came with the territory. Extra rich boys in a school full of rich kids would always mean they were an aim for many girls and their parents alike, let alone Laito’s colourful past meaning he’d slept with basically any 2nd year heiress he could say a word to. All of them convinced they’d be the one to make him want to stay, and all of them feeling the same disappointment or satisfaction when one failed. Then in comes a girl under a sponsorship by said extra rich kid’s father who then ends up dating each of them effectively removing them from the market, and meaning every single girl, generally all conventionally very attractive and whom most men would gladly keep as girlfriend, being ‘beaten’ as they saw it by someone with no assets. 

So to put a long story short, while you weren't super torn up about not having an easy to explain family tree, you weren’t ready to deal with everyone’s response to that little tidbit. All of this led you to now, sitting with Laito as he brushed your hair listening to your predicament.

“Like whatever about the teacher getting weird, I’ll gladly take the free pass to ask for extra stuff. But you really made everything difficult. I can handle snide remarks from Hana, Aoi, and Emiko; they're mostly harmless. Yet, if they get it in their heads that I don’t have parents to cause any issues they might get worse.” You stopped to pick up some popcorn, holding your arm backwards to give Laito some. He took the opportunity to lick your fingers, snickering as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on your jeans. 

“Don’t be nasty, I'm having a serious talk. I just… some of the 1st year girls were horrid to Subaru’s girlfriend just for finding out she had been at a boarding school. They cornered her in the bathroom and stuck gum in her hair. Gum! Like yeah me and the girls tore them a new one but…gum!”

Humming thoughtfully, Laito placed down the brush switching to running his fingers through your hair. He moved to rest his head on your shoulder, letting a comfortable silence sit over you while he thought of what to say.

“If you want, I can get you a family tree in full detail”

“How would you even do that, if you just make people up and anyone finds out then it's worse.”

“We could always make one~”

A pillow to the face shut that idea down, laughing as he fell backwards against the cushions while you were glaring at him.

“Be serious! What am I meant to do?”

Sitting back up, Laito took your hand pulling you up.

“Follow me.”

Walking through the manor, Laito took you to a less well maintained wing. Cobwebs littered the hallway and the wallpaper was peeling slightly in patches, there weren't any electrical lights either, only wall sconces with candles Laito lit as you walked by. Laito was silent for most of the journey, only giving a hand squeeze of reassurance whenever you caught his eye. You weren’t sure if the squeeze he gave passing a portrait of Cordelia was to reassure you or him, whenever you even heard of that woman it sent shivers down your spine.

Paintings became more common the further you walked, most were of adults with a vague similarity to Laito and his brothers, others were portraits of women in beautiful dresses with a characteristic pale visage. Finally stopping in front of a picture of three young boys with a signature red and purple haired look.

“This is the only painting or picture of me and any of my brothers together. Me and the other triplets don't argue as much as Shu and Reiji but we aren’t close,” he turned, taking your hands in his. “You have sisters, actual sisters who you have stories and pictures with. Anyone who disagrees, I will handle.” 

“Gum in my hair Laito. It’s not a good look.” Laito sighs, pulling you close before you hear him mutter.

“Theirs will look worse when I cut it all off.”

Kanato Sakamaki

“Dolly, why are you in here?”

Turning to greet Kanato from where you sat in the quiet wing of the Sakamaki manor, placing your sketchbook back down beside you and making room for your boyfriend to sit nearby.

“I come here to sketch the portraits since I can’t get a good wifi connection to look up references. I really like this painting, it’s of you right?” 

Kanato sat down looking up at the painting then to your sketch. It was different to the painting in many ways, the main difference being that it was a younger him alone with teddy. You had changed his posing too slightly to make him look less nervous. He was pinching his fingertips though, a sign he was uncomfortable that he picked up from the exercises he had copied you doing to help regulation. You could see he was struggling to find his wording. Scooting closer you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to reassure him you cared and were listening. 

“It’s pretty, but dolly I don’t like you being here.”

“Why Kanato? It’s nice here, nobody comes here to interrupt or be loud and there's all these pretty paintings. What’s wrong?” Continuing to play with his fingers, he moves closer to you turning to face you straight on.

“This is where…her room used to be. We have to leave me and Teddy hate it here.” Immediately you were filled with questions. While you knew Kanato, Ayato, and Laito killed their mother and have mixed feelings towards her, you had never seen Kanato spooked. It did explain why this area was not well maintained. You had to bring a brush with you during your first visits to the wing to remove some of the largest cobwebs and first from your seat. However, you had to admit that with the newfound knowledge that these halls were where your boyfriend had been tormented by his own mother for centuries it changed the atmosphere. Suddenly the quiet was now tense, the weathered appearance of the halls becoming creepy signs of lifetimes long since passed. 

So you went along with Kanato’s instruction, returning to the more familiar manor where Reiji had familiars ensuring everything was organised and dustless. Following behind while mulling over the best way to approach this particular conversation. He led you to his room, sitting on his bed with your sketchbook and flipping through it. Pacing the path from his bedside locker to his balcony doors slowly, Kanato watched you. Around your fifth lap he gently grabbed your forearm guiding you to sit next to him, playing with the pages of your sketchbook. He turned to one of your favourites, you had drawn Kanato sitting in front of a backdrop of rose bushes. A small smile on his lips and a glint of childish glee in his eyes.

“I’m hanging this one up.”

“That one isn’t fully vanished, it's only a sketch.”

“But I like it, so it’s finished and I want it on my wall. And I want a matching one of you to go beside it.”

Sighing in acceptance you took his hand winding your fingers with his. It was probably better to shelf some questions anyway, while you were well past the stage of Kanato stabbing you with a fork for too many questions it was still not always easy to bring up sensitive topics. 

Subaru Sakamaki

“Oi, idiot the car is outside. Are you ready to go or what?”

Grabbing your earrings and standing, you began walking over to your boyfriend in a new sundress and short heels for a lunch meeting with Christa at some new vampire restaurant she had taken a liking to. In the years following yours and Subaru’s relationship, both of you had begun to put work into  helping both Subaru and his mother move forwards in their lives and reducing the impact their past traumas had on them. It was a slow and difficult progress with what felt like 100 steps back after every step forward but Christa had reached the point where her good days outnumbered her bad ones with the help of a team of specialists and patience. 

Within the last half a year Christa had begun to travel short distances from her home, a fairly new cottage Subaru had built her close to the manor after we graduated from Ryoutei Academy. Today’s trip was to a cafe she had been to numerous times with her trusted hand maids, so it was an obvious choice for the first excursion you and Subaru were joining in on. On Subaru’s part you had nothing but admiration and pride for the strides he had taken, he still had periods of self doubt often linked to birthdays and when his father was involved. However, such episodes were short and he had grown into more healthy responses to these thoughts, that still didn’t reduce his worries when interacting with his mother in environments that could trigger an episode. It took reassurances from Christa and her therapist to show that there was a set of precautions to ensure her safety before he agreed to this lunch. 

That brought you to today, where your boyfriend adjusted the collar of his pale grey shirt and looked at you with eyes that clearly showed his trepidation about this trip. Looping your arm around his as you made your way to the car you offered reassurance.

“She’s been looking forward to this lunch, she goes there every week at this point it's basically the same as when we have dinner with her.”

“The first time we had dinner with her she started screaming at your halfway through thinking you were a thief, before she tried to cut your hair off.”

“That’s not a fair comparison and you know it. Christa has found medicines that work and worked with Dr. Estelle for years now.”

“You know she  wants you to call her mum.”

“She’ll be mum when you get on the ring choosing we both agreed last time at dinner remember. She even offered to help you plan everything.”

Grunting, he looked away squeezing your arm while opening the passenger side door of his porsche. The ride was mostly quiet with you running your shared spotify playlist with Subaru mentioning concerns for you to counter with considerations made to address them. Once you arrived at the cafe Subaru relaxed quickly seeing Christa behaving normally. 

As always, you were greeted with hugs and excited interrogations as to the going ons of your life since your last visit. Christa had been so kind as to give recommendations based on your individual tastes, having an excellent grasp on the menu. She was also so kind as to bring an album of photos her staff had made of Subaru growing up to allow her to feel more included in his life while locked in that tower. 

“Oh my goodness! He looks so cute here, when was this one?”

You pointed to a photo of a roughly 8 year old Subaru sitting on a wooden table licking a spoon covered in some batter. Smudges of the batter were on his cheeks and shirt as a fire was lit in the background. It was a cosy image and something you had seen Subaru do before. Anytime you baked anything he insisted on spoon cleaning duty to ‘make it easier to clean’.

“Ah, one of my ladies in waiting had that painted after she heard me talking about how happy I was during that visit.”

“I love it, Subaru was such a cute kid!”

“I don’t see what's so cute, I’m just stuffing my face there.”

“Oh shish Subaru. She’s right, you were an adorable kid with cute little cheeks.” To emphasise her point she pinched his cheeks while cooing at him. Subaru only scowled in response, but it held no actual malice behind his glare.

While leaving the cafe, after nearly 5 hours of catching up, Christa pulled you aside to give you the picture claiming she had hundreds more. During the drive home Subaru kept looking at you admiring the photo. 

“You can always take pictures of me ya now. You don’t need to use a kid photo of me for that.”

“I have photos of you, I just like this one, it's special.”

“You’re such a weird woman.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers imagine #reiji sakamaki #shu sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #shu sakamaki x reader #reiji sakamaki x reader #laito sakamaki x reader #ayato sakamaki x reader #kanato sakamaki x reader #subaru sakamaki x reader #diabolik lovers headcanon #diabolik boys

[lunarubra]

Sooo... I wanted to wait to post it next week, but I feel it's going to be even crazier and busier at work in the coming days. As I mentioned in a previous post, the next few months are going to be really hectic for me, so updates could be even more delayed. But I am not abandoning my babies, don't worry. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you can, leave a comment letting me know what you think. It's the first time I've written smut for a straight couple, so I am a little worried of how this is gonna feel. Thanks a ton to @cillmequick and @emotionalcadaver for beta-reading this chapter and being the best mutuals <3

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The morning after, with a surprise visit, and maybe finally, those two idiots are going to talk about what they are feeling. It took them only 25k+ words, sooo. Yeah, I'm aware that as the writer, I should be in control of what they do, but spoiler alert: I am not. They are in control.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Panic Attack, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Star Wars Spoilers.

Words: 5439

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Part 7 - Swell of Renewal

The first light of dawn gently illuminated Cillian's eyes, rousing him from sleep. Reluctant to open them fully, he savoured the comforting sensation of that fleeting moment between slumber and wakefulness. Gradually, he became aware of the sensations enveloping him. He was laying on his side, with a warm body pressed against his chest, nestled between him and the couch's backrest. His face was buried in soft hair that carried the scent of sea and spices. Before fully registering his surroundings, he snuggled closer, relishing the embrace.

A sudden noise from the front door jolted Cillian awake, causing him to open his eyes and discover Jiyan nestled against his chest. It took a moment for him to recall why he was on the couch and why Jiyan was there beside him. He admired her peaceful form for a few seconds, noting the deepness of her sleep, likely a result of the exhaustion from the previous night. Another knock echoed at the front door, diverting Cillian's attention from the woman beside him, while she remained completely oblivious to the noises, undisturbed and lost in her tranquil slumber.

With gentle care, Cillian untangled himself from their embrace, draping a blanket over Jiyan as he had done the night before, before falling asleep. Since her panic attack and her subsequent openness about what had transpired, neither had questioned the shift in their relationship—they naturally gravitated towards holding and comforting each other. Falling asleep together seemed like the right next step after the emotionally draining evening they had experienced; it was a simple and comforting way to support each other. Even considering leaving Jiyan alone after such a night was unimaginable to him.

Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, he shuffled to the door, muttering under his breath about whoever had the audacity to disturb so early in the morning.

Peering through the door's peephole, he immediately recognized his sister's figure, and a shock of cold realisation shot through him, fully waking him up. Damn, he had completely forgotten about their plans for this morning.

As he opened the door, attempting to offer an apology, his sister launched into a scolding tirade, oblivious to his efforts to quiet her down. The living room wasn’t far, and even though Jiyan seemed to be a deep sleeper, he doubted she would stay asleep for long with his sister's loud reprimands.

"You were still asleep?! Cillian, I told you we needed to buy Sile’s present this morning. With me covering for a colleague this week, I'm swamped, and we agreed to do it today!"

"Orla, morning… I know, I'm sorry, very. I'll find Sile's present on my own later, just please lower your voice," Cillian pleaded.

"Lower my voice?! This is the third time you've postponed it. Her birthday is next week! You were busy with work the past few weeks, but now what? You just forgot? And why do you look so tired? Were you out yesterday night—" Orla paused, her gaze shifting past him.

 Turning around, Cillian saw Jiyan standing there, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, giving his sister ammo about a crazy night spent the night before, where she spent the night here and now she was wearing his clothes. 

Jiyan appeared still a bit sleepy and somewhat taken aback to find someone else in the house. "Um, hi, sorry, I heard voices and—" Jiyan trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a hint of concern about the situation she had walked into.

"Really, Cilian? Really?" Orla interrupted, looking annoyed with her brother.

"Orla, it's not..." Cilian began, then he shook his head, hoping to dispel any misunderstanding that he had spent the night drinking and picking up random women at the pub. 

He turned to Jiyan, hoping to clarify everything; this was not the morning he had imagined.

"Jiyan, this is my sister, Orla. I forgot we had to buy a present for our youngest sister this morning, and she's giving me an earful. Orla, this is Jiyan, my... This is Jiyan," he concluded a bit awkwardly, turning back to his sister.

"Jiyan?" Orla repeated, making the connection, and sounding placated for the moment, with a hint of sisterly curiosity. "Oh... I'm sorry, I must seem like a crazy sister, but this one," she gestured towards Cillian, "is the most unorganised person I've ever met. I'm Orla, nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to Jiyan.

"Nice to meet you too," Jiyan replied, still feeling a bit uncertain about the situation. "I can go if you need to go out, it's really no problem-"

"No!" Cilian exclaimed a bit too forcefully, cutting her off before his sister could intervene and convince Jiyan to leave. "Orla was just leaving. I'll buy something later this week, and everything will be alright, right Orla?" he asked, looking at his sister.

Orla glanced between them a couple of times, as if watching a ping pong match, before finally settling her gaze on her brother's determined expression, realising there was no way she could win this battle and following their planned morning.

"Sure," she confirmed, though with a hint of warning. "But if you forget like Mum's birthday last year-"

"It was two years ago!" he defended himself.

"I don't care," she told him firmly. "I have to go now. Jiyan, it was a pleasure to finally put a face to your name. Cillian couldn’t stop talking about you during Paddy's -"

"Yes!" Cillian said, raising his voice, cutting off his sister to comment further. "Orla, I think it’s time. You really should go," he interjected, gently nudging his sister towards the door and subtly hinting for her to leave, hoping to salvage some of the dignity he had left.

His sister finally composed herself and exited, bidding her goodbyes to Jiyan, but not without one last firm reminder to her brother.

After closing the door behind his departing sister and exhaling a held breath, Cillian turned back to Jiyan, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My sister can be a bit... persistent. I completely forgot that we had to meet this morning."

Jiyan glanced at the floor, uncertainty clouding her expression. After all that had been said the previous night, she was still shocked by what had transpired and perhaps a little ashamed of her own reactions. "I can really go, if you-"

"I don’t want you to go," he said, cutting her off.

They stood in the hallway entrance, bathed in natural sunlight from the living room, casting a deep ambiance around them. As he looked at Jiyan, he soon forgot about his sister's impromptu visit. The tension he had felt multiple times in the past months was coming alive that morning, making his hair on both his arms feel energised, as if pure electric energy was coursing through him.

"Cillian… I…" Jiyan started to say.

"Can I say something?" he interjected, his voice trembling a little with emotion, starting to feel his heart beating faster. "I know it's only been a couple of months since we met, but the more time I spend with you, Jiyan, the more connected I feel. It's like I've known you for decades, like I can understand what you're feeling and thinking.

He paused briefly before continuing, his words pouring out in a rush. "Yesterday night... Yesterday night, it was draining and exhausting for you, and I understand if you feel like you've exposed yourself to more hurt, or if you think you've shown a vulnerable side of yourself. But I see you, Jiyan. I think I really see someone for the first time, and what I see is beautiful. You have nothing to apologise for or feel ashamed of that happened yesterday. Nothing."

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Looked at that sensitive, generous, humble, handsome man who had offered refuge to her last night, after one of the worst panic attacks she had ever experienced. Who has listened and supported her, making her feel for the first time not alone in what she was going through. She could see in him someone with whom she didn’t have to hide - not her feelings, not her emotions, not her past or insecurities.

"I think... I think I also see you," she said, walking closer to him until their chests were almost touching, locking her gaze with his deep blue eyes that reminded her so much of the sea.

As her heartbeat quickened, but not like the night before, she didn't feel panic this time; she felt alive, a tingling sensation coursing through every part of her body.

Cillian didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped her face with one hand, his eyes speaking volumes, like she could read the myriad shades of the ocean within them. His breathing changed too, influenced by their proximity and her presence.

She wasn't sure who moved first or who initiated the first contact. All she knew was that the first touch felt like finally coming home again. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, craving to deepen the connection and feel more of him. Their initial tentative kiss quickly turned passionate, almost desperate, as if they feared the other would vanish in the next moment.

His hands found their place on her waist, slipping under her hoodie and eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as he felt her warm skin, his thumbs tracing circles on her taut abdomen.

She lightly nibbled on his lower lip, drawing another deep groan from him, before resting her forehead against his, breathing him in, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Ok, wow," she said, opening her eyes again and gazing into his.

"Yeah," he agreed, his arms holding her close to him, not wanting to let her go. She held his cheek, breathing him in, closing her eyes and relaxing into their embrace. If their first kiss had quickly turned passionate, the second time their lips met, she wanted to convey all the different feelings she had, feeling connected to him, letting herself go, and trusting him to accept her.

She let out a high-pitched moan when he responded, exploring her mouth with his tongue, wanting her to feel as much as he was feeling in that moment, wanting to deepen it and at the same time just enjoy their exchange that made him feel like he was walking on the moon.

She also wanted to feel more of him, holding one of her hands on his heart, feeling his chest expand and his heart beating frantically. She then started kissing his jaw and snuggled into his neck, softly biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Jiyan," he warned, closing his eyes to catch his breath again and gain some sort of control over his body.

She made an innocuous sound, then repeated her action, eliciting another deep groan from him. He moved his arm from under the hoodie she was wearing to cup her cheeks.

"You are a tease," he said softly, planting a soft peck on her lips again.

“Who says I am teasing?” she retorted, joy bubbling up from her chest as her hands ran through his hair.

“Come on, you need some food in you after yesterday, before we do anything that requires more effort.”

“Ah, so it’s an effort for you, Murphy?” she teased him, “Didn’t think you were this old,” she said, sliding her fingers into his as she followed him to the kitchen, settling on one of the kitchen stools.

He ignored her last comment with a smile, opening the fridge and inspecting its sad remains.

“I have some toast, cheese, and eggs, but I know you don’t eat those. There’s a lemon and a very questionable package of mushrooms.”

"Urgh," she made a disappointed moan.

“I know, sorry. I just got back yesterday and haven’t had a chance to go to the big shop yet.”

“Do you have some canned chickpeas? Or canned beans?” she asked.

“Maybe, I can check the pantry.”

After she gathered some canned chickpeas and quickly made some hummus to eat with toast, he prepared some scrambled eggs with toast and cheese.

“I should really bring you a package of real tea here and teach you how to make chai,” she said as they sat facing each other, their knees touching, and his left hand resting on her thigh. Since the night before, where he had held and comforted her, it was like both of them couldn't stop touching each other, almost like they always needed some kind of physical connection.

“Please feel free to bring as much chai as you want and teach me that wizardry that you Kurds call tea. You knew I would become a complete addict to that.”

“Yup, that's our evil plan for Kurdistan liberation, making white people fall in love with our chai so they would finally stop persecuting us.”

“See, I always knew you had a second motive,” he joked.

After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"I know you said you didn’t want me to apologise, so I won’t," she said, resting her hand over his on her leg. "But thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for your patience, and for listening to me. I don’t think I've ever told anyone all of that before."

"I will always want to listen to you and be there for you, I think," he said sincerely. "I know we both said we weren’t looking for something beyond friendship, Jiyan, but I don’t think..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "During the past few weeks, while I was working in Galway, I tried to detach myself from you and think about it objectively. I wanted to see if it was just like my other past relationships, where I could lose myself in work and disappear. And I could, partly. I think acting will always be liberating for me because I can stop being myself for some time. But when I stopped and was back to being Cillian, I wanted to share it all with you. I’m not sure how it will all go, but I want to try to have this deep connection that I feel with you, Jiyan. Because for the first time, I feel I can be more than just a good actor, a decent brother, or someone who makes my family proud."

She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just staring at their interlined fingers, playing with them.

"During these weeks, when you weren’t here, I also had time to think. I think that’s also why yesterday I had that reaction. Newroz was the first time where I talked again about Samyah, or I felt she was there, back with me, celebrating. It’s like I pushed all away and now I am feeling all of it together. When you were away, I understood how much more difficult it was, feeling all of that without you… here. I am also not sure how it will be, I am not sure how much I am able to give to you right now. You saw yesterday how easily I can break down…” she said, taking a breath and looking back at him. “But I also would love to know what it really feels like, to share all of this with you."

“You are not the only one that is not sure how much I am able to give. Sometimes when I am so deep into my work, I feel like a shadow of myself. Even if I am there, the people around me feel like I am a ghost of the man I am, and maybe the worst is that I love losing myself so deep into a role. It’s the best feeling, even if I feel like shit at the end of the process,” he finished, trying to joke about it, intertwining his fingers with hers, wanting to feel her closer.

“What a pair we make, eh?” she smiled.

He chuckled at that, finishing his last bite of eggs. “Do you have plans today?” he asked, hoping to not get separated too soon.

“I don’t think I want to do anything. Every time I have one of those breakdowns, I feel exhausted the next couple of days. I just want to lay down and maybe watch something.”

“One of those?” he asked worriedly.

“They started a couple of months after Samyah’s passing. Moving here helped. I just had something similar the day I came back from the hospital, after what happened at the pub.”

He stroked her arm gently, not knowing how to help or what he could say. She was confronting her demons with an acceptance that he did not possess, almost like it was natural that things like this were happening and after those few days life would go on, with Jiyan being back to her solar and sassy self. On one side, he was slightly feeling frustrated about her laid-back attitude; he knew that he would not have her grace to behave like that if something similar happened to him. On the other hand, he was really amazed by the woman in front of him, by her resilience and her strength.

“If you don’t want to be on your own, but if you want some company, we can go back on the sofa, choose some comfort movies, and just relax. Later we can order something if we feel hungry.”

“You sure you are okay about spending the day watching movies with me?”

“It would be just grant, Jiyan,” he said, grinning, getting up from the kitchen island and gathering their plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Are we allowed to snack during these movies?” she asked hopefully, as if they hadn't just finished breakfast.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked back.

“Popcorn?” she asked eagerly. 

“I'll put them in the microwave. Go check if you can find some movies,” he suggested.

“Do you have Star Wars?” she called from the living room.

“Yup, check the shelves on the left,” he said loudly back, just after putting two bowls of popcorn in the microwave and looking for some jalapenos. Then he paused for a moment, thinking about what George Lucas might say, knowing stories about his character, knowing they were using his movies as comfort just after a panic attack. Well, if it worked for her, he would never say no to a Star Wars marathon.

It took him a couple of minutes to return to the living room, with Jiyan seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

He passed her a bowl of popcorn as she pressed play, and “A New Hope” started. Sitting close to her, he started to enjoy the famous first scene of the saga, starting to understand why she found it comforting; it felt like being hugged by an old dear friend.

While Luke met Obi-Wan, Jiyan finished her bowl of popcorn, putting it on the floor. For a tiny person, she could pack away quite a bit of food. As she leaned back, before he could stop her, she took some popcorn from his still full bowl and then reacted with a shriek.

“What’s that?!”

“Popcorn,” he said back, ignoring her shock, hiding the bowl on his side of the couch, the furthest from Jiyan, worried what could happen to his guilty food treat. Hoping to refocus on the movie and avoid a topic that almost every friend or member of his family teased him for.

“No it’s not! Popcorn is crispy, salty, and addictive. What the fuck is that? It’s all soggy,” she whined, complaining.

He avoided her question until she started to tickle him on his side, making him squirm away.

“Jiyan!” he said, slightly annoyed, putting his bowl on the floor too, trying to avoid her tickling attack by grabbing both her wrists. As she tried to struggle away, Cillian pulled back, making her fall onto his chest, and him laying down on the couch.

“Are you finished?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You are ticklish,” she answered, avoiding the question with a devious smile, like a cat that ate the canary.

“No,” he tried saying, keeping his face as serious as he could, but her smile only grew wider.

“You are,” she teased.

“Jiyan…” he warned.

“Tickling you is less than a deserved punishment for what you have done to the popcorn,” she defended.

“It’s my bowl,” he said exasperatedly.

“I don’t think even serial killers would dare to do whatever you have done to popcorn. Not even terrorists. Maybe cops, you would expect that from cops, or fascists…”

He interrupted her with a kiss, freeing one of her wrists and cupping her face. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice lowering a tone, smiling amusedly at her.

“You’re not gonna distract me from your crimes, Murphy,” she said, pouting, as he kissed back her pout.

“No?” he asked, this time smirking.

“You cannot bribe me, I’m incorruptible,” she said seriously, as she settled more comfortably into his embrace, starting to run her fingers through his hair. She loved how soft his hair was; it was so comforting.

“Sure, love,” he teased her, starting to kiss her jawline till he found the spot just under her lobe, sucking it and getting a moan from her that made his insides boil, feeling his pants getting tight.

He caressed her throat with his nose, continuing his exploration and being surrounded by her perfume. He could smell some of his body wash and another smell that he could only describe as Jiyan, it reminded him of the spices of chai and the salty air of the sea. He breathed deeply, feeling all his senses wake up and had to control himself, wanting to just turn around with her under him and kiss every centimetre of free skin possible.

Jiyan, who was starting to feel all putty in his hands, tried to get some sort of control back by grabbing his hair slightly to capture his lips, with her free hand sneaking under his t-shirt wanting to also feel his skin. She was welcomed with his smooth skin and the lines of his muscles clenching as she caressed them, gaining a deep groan vibrating from his chest that she swallowed before biting his lower lip.

He also slid his hand under his hoodie she was wearing, caressing her sides as his brain went blank when he noticed just now the absence of a t-shirt or the feel of a bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath laboured, as his hands were just under her breasts, wanting nothing more than to feel their weight. She arched herself into his hands, like a luxurious cat, nodding her head before brushing kisses along his neck.

He caressed slowly the side of her chest, consciously avoiding the most erogenous zones, making her press into his hands even more, wanting to guide him silently where she wanted him to be touched. He smirked at her attempt, running his thumbs close to where she needed them the most, never really touching them, feeling her trembling with desires but still teasing her. She was so responsive.

“Cillian…” she whined in his neck, grabbing his hair hard.

“Yes, love?” he asked, amused, enjoying playing this game.

“You know what…” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jiyan, annoyed and impatient with this man, got up sitting over his lap and in one move got rid of her hoodie, throwing it on the armchair next to them, leaving her topless in front of him. As Cillian's throat got dry and he was distracted by the view in front of him – her taut stomach and her round breasts with small dark areolas that were begging to be kissed – she used his distraction to push his shirt over his head, leaving his chest also bare in front of her.

“Are you done teasing?” she asked, her hands on his chest to balance over him.

“You are beautiful,” he said instead, not sure if he even heard her, his hands back on her, just under her ribs.

She bent and captured his lips, feeling the heat coming from him. His hands started to roam again, one holding her head and the other one cupping one breast, caressing her nipple, making her moan in their kiss. She felt his erection under her and moved her hips, starting a slow rhythm that made them both pant.

They lost themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, lips on lips, and fingers touching any part of skin they could reach.

As she started to rock faster, she started to feel the pressure and the heat inside her growing. When he moved his kisses to her neck and bit her, she moaned loud, feeling the electricity running in her body.

He slid his lips from her neck to the valley between her breasts, catching his breath slightly before he pressed his mouth to her nipples, sucking it slowly, gaining another deep moan from Jiyan. He used his teeth and tongue to explore, switching his attention from one breast to the other and Jiyan felt like her blood was burning, the pressure between her legs increasing.

She stopped her movements, making him look at her confused and worried, asking her if she was alright.

Instead she bent and captured his lips, the kiss became more heated. She then slid her hands in his sweatpants, breaking the kiss and asking silently if it was okay for him. At his eager nod, she got rid of his trousers with his help. As her hand ventured over his boxers, she lightly brushed against his erection, causing him to arch into her touch.

"Who's the tease now?" he rasped, his voice low and growling, as he eyed her with anticipation.

Instead of replying, she reached for him, pulling his underwear down to grasp his member, exploring him for the first time. Her touch was deliberate, moving slowly and firmly, savouring the weight of him and relishing in his laboured breaths and groans. She craved more.

As her thumb traced the pulsing vein on the side of his shaft, feeling his precum, his hands found her ass, gripping it firmly as he surrendered to the sensations she evoked. It didn't take much to push him to the brink.

"I want to feel you," he gasped, seizing her wrist to halt her movements. Looking into his glassy eyes, mirroring her own passion, she nodded.

Sitting up, she took his hand, guiding it to her sweatpants. Together, they shed her clothes, leaving her naked atop him.

"Are you clean?" she inquired, her hand caressing his member with a slow stroke.

"Yeah, are you?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "Do we need a condom?"

"I have an IUD, and I got tested in December when I donated blood on campus," she reassured him.

He nodded, cradling her face to kiss her fiercely once more. As they kissed languidly, catching their breath, her hands trailed down to his chest while his found her hips, aiding her in adjusting their positions.

Guiding him to her entrance, she began to sink onto him slowly, both of them moaning at the initial contact. She exhaled, trying to relax and accept his girth and length.

"Fuck… so tight," he groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her contracting. 

Feeling her stop, he opened his eyes back, trying to gather some control and staying as immobile as possible, "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident as his thumbs circled her hips, offering support.

"Yeah, it's been a while," she whispered, closing her eyes to focus on her gradual movements, starting moving slowly.

Supporting her with one hand, he found her folds with the other, feeling how wet she was and searching for her clit. Slowly, he circled it with his thumb, causing her to close her eyes, arch her back, and moan deeply as she slowly sank down. She let out a deep whine when his entire length rested inside her.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, suppressing his own desires and focusing on her well-being.

"Yeah, it feels good," she said, breathing slowly. "I just need a moment."

She was incredibly tight and warm, enveloping him like a glove. He took a deep breath, restraining himself from moving and allowing her to adjust. He lay back down, enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of him, holding her waist gently, he couldn’t stop touching that soft sunkissed skin.

As she began to feel more comfortable, she squeezed her walls experimentally, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"Fuck, Jiyan!" he moaned deeply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her waist.

With slow movements, she adjusted her hips, searching for a good angle and relishing the sensation of him filling her up. As her movements became smoother, his tip brushed against a soft spot inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her, causing her to arch her back and lose her rhythm.

"Here?" he asked, using his other hand to guide her hips.

"Yes, don't stop," she said, feeling the pleasure intensifying and her walls pulsating.

Time seemed to slow for both of them as they rapidly approached their limits quickly, it had been sometime also for him. Cillian felt her walls spasm around him, signalling her impending release. His thumb went back to circle her clit as her hips stuttered and lost their rhythm. The tension inside him grew like a taut bow ready to be released.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her breathing laboured.

"I am too," he replied, withdrawing his fingers from her folds and gripping her hips tightly. Taking control of the rhythm, he thrust his hips upward, feeling her walls contracting around him. She reached for her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled, captivated by the sight before him.

Without warning, he felt her orgasm approaching, the sensations spreading through her body and engulfing her in pleasure, eliciting deep moans. As she tightened around him, pulling him in and causing him to groan loudly. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, his body tensing as his release filled her insides. They both felt her spasms and the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They remained intertwined for several minutes, trying to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies pressed together. Exhausted, Jiyan leaned down while Cillian embraced her, gently caressing her back.

Pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She murmured a sleepy affirmation, planting kisses between his neck and shoulder.

"Do you want to stay here or go to bed?" he inquired.

"Bed," she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

"Do you need help, love?" he asked, slightly amused.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck and hugged him tightly, causing him to chuckle.

"Hmm," she mumbled, with a yawn.

Chuckling, he sat up, still inside her, eliciting a soft moan as he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he carried her upstairs, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before gently laying her down on his bed. After quickly cleaning himself in the ensuite and grabbing a cloth for her, he returned to admire her naked form before laying beside her, cleaning up the mess they had made.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes.

He tossed the cloth into the hamper and lay back, embracing her from behind. Pressing a kiss on her neck, he whispered, "You're amazing," as she snuggled into him, emitting a satisfied moan.

"That was a first for a Star Wars marathon," she said softly, her voice already sleepy and relaxed.

"Well, it did bring us comfort," he replied, hugging her tighter.

"Mmmh, I hope all our movie marathons end this way," she murmured, her energy fading.

"If you have enough energy, I can show you the best part later," he teased.

"Mmmh, sleepy," she moaned.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he said, closing his eyes and planting one last kiss on her neck.

"Mmmh mmm," she mumbled, relaxing, as they both fell into a restful sleep.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

#shadows of the sea #jiyan fabris x cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n

[readychilledwine]

For Richer or Poor

Summary - Rhiannon and Rhys struggle with finding each other the perfect solstice gift

Warnings - smut, angst, virginity loss

A/n- this started as angst and fluff and kind of took on a mind of its own.. I apologize for the delay on getting it posted. Miss Sophia has had a mind of her own the past couple days so I've been a little busy forgetting to queue things ❤️ baby daddy's scheduling is now back in place, though.

Peep Requiem for a Dream here

“I don't understand why you are putting so much pressure on one gift,” Azriel stroked Rhiannon's back as she cried. “Rhys loves you, not any materialistic thing you could buy him.” Rhiannon broke down again, back shaking with each heavy sob.

That was the issue. She could not buy him anything. When her father had thrown her to Azriel's feet and abandoned her with her older Brother, he had left her with nothing but the clothing on her bloodied back.

She had no money.

No title.

Nothing she could gift Rhysand for their first Solstice together.

She couldn't even bake him anything nor cook him a dinner. Not unless the two young fae wanted to undergo a Mating Ceremony.

She had little to offer him while he gave her the world. Constsntly showering Her in gifts from Velaris and any court his father would force him to visit.

From teas and treats to lavish clothing, Rhiannon had it all, but she never had the ability to pay it back.

Rhys and his mother walked the Palace of Thread and Jewels. He was carrying the many bags she had accumulated as she shopped for him, Cassian, Azriel, his sister, and now Rhiannon.

Rhys was struggling with gifts for the latter. He had spoiled Rhiannon so much over the past year, and he was lost in what to get the female he'd hand the world.

“What about just something simple? A necklace? A bracelette?” His mother wrapped a Hand around his bicep. “She enjoys blankets. Perhaps a soft new blanket.”

Rhys stared straight ahead. “Nothing says I love you and want to spend the rest of my days with you like a shitty last minute blanket, mother.” He sighed, knowing what he wanted to do, but knowing his father would have his head.

He allowed his mom to pull him into the finest jeweler in the market. “Just do it, Rhysand. We will hide it until we can't anymore.”

Rhys held Rhiannon tight that night. Refusing to let Her go near the small tree his mother was placing presents under. They had been friends for 4 years now, knew they were mates for one year, and had spent that year courting. They had done nothing more but laid in his bed together, kissing and her hands slightly exploring at times while his roamed every inch of her frame like he was making a map.

He had never pushed her into sex, never asked for more than just her love and kisses, but he knew that small box under the tree would change everything. She had wanted to wait for marriage, a tradition drilled into her head through years of beatings from her step mother and Father.

And now, in just 12 short hours, after his Mother, Azriel, and Cassian left for the party being thrown in the Mead Hall, Rhysand would be asking her for her hand.

He placed a few soft kisses along her neck, smiling as she snuggled in closer to him with a small twitch of her lips. Just a few more hours, he told himself.

Solstice morning was filled with laughter and joy. The males having partook in yet another snowball fight as Rhiannon spent the morning in the kitchen helping with what little she could without triggering a mating frenzy.

She, Azriel, and Cassian had exchanged their homemade gifts without the presence of the High Lord's family, the three of them tucked into the boy's room as they exchanged homemade treats. They all couldn't afford much, so these small things had become their tradition. Something they could gather ingredients and supplies for a fairly cheap and make with love and effort.

They did the same for Rhysand's family, showing their gratitude for his mother's choice to pull the three of them into their home. Azriel and Cassian traded gifts with Rhysand while Rhiannon had to wait.

Anxiousness Had set into the pit of her stomach as she got dressed this morning. Rhysand's mother had taken gentle care, braiding her long dark hair, making sure her nails were trimmed and clean, that her hands were oiled and moisturized.

She had ensured Rhiannon had been gifted a fine set of oils and lotions along with a pretty lacy outfit she had hand made for “when the time felt right.”

The evening came quickly, prompting Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand's mother to leave the cabin, heading to the Mead Hall for celebrations and leaving the two mates completely alone.

Rhys had her between his legs, Tucked into his chest tight and placing small kisses along her temple and hairline. “I'm sorry I'm keeping you away from the camp party,” Rhys tilted her head up. “I just wanted time alone with you.”

Rhiannon smiled softly. “If you think I'd rather spend a single moment in that hall with those males, you truly underestimate my love for you.”

“I thought we could talk about that,” Rhysand began softly. “About love and us.” Rhys sat her up, hiding the small black box behind him. “You know I love you, right?”

The falling look on her face had Rhysand back pedaling Watching in horror as she moved away from him and sat down in the opposite couch.

He moved to her instantly, grabbing her soft small hands. “I already fucked that up,” he muttered taking a deep breath. “What I mean is, I do love you, and I hope I have made that clear and obvious.”

He took a deep breath, pausing to kiss her left hand. “I have loved you long before the Bond snapped, and I would love you regardless of it being in place. From the moment Azriel carried you in the doorway begging mother for help, I felt drawn to you.”

Another long pause came as he kissed each knuckle on her hand. “I knew I loved you the moment you took down a male, not knowing he was one of Devlon's bastard Sons and beat the shit out of him for grabbing you. I knew I loved you when I pulled you off of him and went back to fight. I knew I loved you as you sat holding Ice to your lip getting lectured by mother and simply said, “let the camp lord know I'll do it again.” I knew I loved you because of your spark, your fight.”

Rhiannon looked away, hiding her amusement. “So you knew You loved me when it turned out I was violent.”

“You are a violent, murderous, little creature,” Rhysand purred softly, trying to hide the lust in his tone. “And I stupidly love every single ounce of it. I love your eyes when you see something that makes you happy. I love how you pout when I don't give you whatever you want-”

“I do not pout,” Rhys smirked at her, thumb going to her pouty bottom lip.

“Oh yes you do, Darling.” He kissed her gently. “I want to spend my life with you. Learning all the other things I can love. Growing to love the things I already do more.”

Before Rhiannon could respond and process what was happening, Rhys was on one knee before her, an open ring box in hand. “It would be a long engagement, Rhiannon Darling, but will you marry me?”

All she could do was nod, crying as she threw herself Into his arms, holding him tight. “I presume that is a yes?”

Rhiannon nodded before pulling him to her and kissing him deeply. It did not take long for that kiss to become more passionate. Rhys was on top of her in an instant, resting between her legs as they wrapped around his waist, hairs tangling into her long dark hair.

Her own hands found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly and pushing it down his shoulders. Once the material was no longer there, Rhiannon began to run her hands over every exposed piece of skin. Nails and fingertips gently brushing some areas while other areas were squeezed.

The second those legs, those damned legs, wrapped around his waist, Rhys knew her intentions. He pulled apart from her, almost chuckled as she whined softly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” her voice was breathy as she tried to get him closer, nodding eagerly in confirmation.

Rhys got off the couch, lifting her With him as he did and carried her to her room. “I refuse to let your first time be on a couch instead of a bed,” he laid her down, smiling ferally as he did.

It was teasingly slow, removing her from her clothing, smiling as she laid Naked below him, dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. “So beautiful, darling.” Rhys placed soft kisses along her jawline, whispering to her as his fingers trailed every curve.

Her skin was on fire from every pass, every gentle caress, every touch she'd never experienced before. The second his tongue flicked Her nipple, a whine she'd never heard from herself tumbled from plush parted lips. “So sensitive,” Rhys muttered before licking and sucking her breast while his hand played with the other one. Once he was satisfied, he freed her nipple with a soft pop Before switching sides.

Rhiannons' back arched more cries falling from her lips as her hands tangled in his soft hair. “Please,” she whimpered, thighs clenching together as wetness and heat pooled between them. “Rhysand, please.”

He tutted her softly, mouth returning to hers. “You'll take what I give you, when I give it to you,” another harsher kiss had her whimpering. “Understood, darling?”

“Yes, husband,” the word spurred something primal in Rhysand. Eyes going dark with lust and need.

Since that bond had snapped, all he had wanted was to be hers, for her to be his in return, and now he was taking it. He was stealing this opportunity. Rhys kissed down her body again, growling when he finally hit her core. “So fucking pretty.”

He gave her no warning, diving into her cunt like a man starved. Rhiannon quickly became a mess of moans and cries. The foreign feeling he was bringing her was unmatched to anything she had made herself feel before.

She knew Rhysand was a talented lover, having laid in bed late at night hearing him with the few females he would bring home before they had gotten together, before the Bond snapped, but this was unimaginable.

It was messy. Tongue spreading and taking slick as he lapped at her entrance and clit.

It was hot. Sweat forming on both of their bodies as the room grew warmer and warmer, as panting took the place of stable breaths.

It was raw passion. Each lick, nudge, moan a measurement moment. Each tightening of her core, of her stomach twisting causing more drive as she pushed it down the bond to him.

It took minutes that felt like seconds for her to fall apart on his tongue, that coil snapping as she screamed his name and stars took place of her vision.

Rhys kissed her clit before moving back up her body, hand replacing his tongue and fingers running through her folds. “You taste divine,” his lips found hers, tongue going into her mouth to share his new favorite wine with her. “I could spend days between your beautiful thighs, Rhiannon.”

He was distracting her, praising Her with soft kisses and words. When he finally felt his finger was wet enough, he slowly pushed it in, watching her face as her breath hitched and eyes rolled back.

“Relax, little mate,” he whispered. “I have you.” He moved agonizingly slow, forehead resting On hers as her breathing picked up again. He smiled as her walls relaxed, Welcoming his finger deeper into her warmth. “There we go. Doing such a good job, darling.”

Rhiannon had her eyes locked shut, mouth opened to a soft o as she felt that coil begin to wind itself up again. She could feel Rhysand's eyes on her, his spare hand tracing her cheekbone As a second finger entered her, stretching her out more to prepare her for him.

Rhys seemed to be on a mission. His fingers were curling, scissoring, searching. It was obvious when he found what he was looking for. He watched as his mate took a deep breath, back arched again, and then a Loud moan of his name fell from swollen lips. He felt his stomach stirring with male pride as he Began to aim over and over for that same spot, feeling wave after wave of her arousal and pleasure shooting down the bond.

He had her pulled apart within seconds again. The pride of it all shot straight to his ego.

His beautiful little mate.

Folding for him Over and over again.

Rhys kissed her deeply, deciding she was ready and pulled his fingers out. “Last Chance to tell me to stop, Rhiannon.” Rhys' forehead found hers again, going into her mind to find any doubt. Instead he found love, contentment, need, lust. Her thoughts were clouded and occupied by him. His scent, his intelligence, his voice. His own clothes were long forgotten, slick soaked hand moving to coat himself before lining up with her. “Tell me it hurts and we stop.” She nodded, hands going to his biceps as her hazel eyes met his.

Rhys pushed in slowly, watching her like a hawk. Her nails dug into his arms, almost spurring him on As she whimpered softly underneath him. He stopped as she tensed up, gently stroking her hair, “You have to relax, baby. I don't want to hurt you.” Rhiannon, done with teasing and wanting this part over With, wrapped her legs Around his waist, forcing him in deeper with a gasp. Rhys growled, burying his head into her neck as his self control slowly began to disappear. He pushed in the rest of the way, groaning as her soft walls hugged him.

They sat like that for a few seconds, allowing her to relax further, to adapt to the intrusion. “Rhys, please,” she begged. “Gods please move.” He was lost in the haze of her, pulling out slowly before pushing back in and setting a soft rhythm. Their hands found each other, fingers lacing together as he made love to her, hitting that perfect spot every time he reentered her body. “I love you,” he whispered and smiled as she said it back.

“Faster,” she panted. Rhys felt his smile go feral. His speed picked up, watching as her breasts bounced. His free hand found her hip, squeezing the side of her ass as he took her.

Their joint pleasure was building quickly as they freely sent it to each other down the bond. Rhys could feel himself nearing that edge and brought his fingers to her clit. “Need you to cum, Rhi,” he almost begged her for it. His Fingers began to circle that bud, watching through heavy eyes as she began chanting his name over and over again, walls fluttering and clenching around him. “Need to feel you fall apart on my cock, little wife.”

That word.

That precious word.

The word that made this all okay in her mind was her undoing.

The idea of being his wife. His mate. His everything.

She shattered around him, crying for him and screaming his name as she came. She saw the heavens behind her eyes as she pulled him closer, mind lost in the feeling of him, the smell of him, the need for him.

Rhys tumbled over the edge seconds later, moaning her name loudly as did.

The room that had previously echoed with the sound of her slick, skin making contact, of their moans was now silent. Breathing the only thing indicating life was still there. Rhys pulled Out of her slowly, picking her up the second he was stable on his own feet and carrying her to the bathroom.

He bathed her as she slept in his arms, his own mind still processing that this had finally happened.

She woke up the next morning, ring on her finger to the sound of Cassian egging on a fight. Rolling her eyes, Rhiannon left her bed, Walking to the kitchen and joining Rhysand's mother at the table for coffee. “How long?” She asked.

Amara looked at Rhys and Azriel, watching as the shadowsinger landed another punch. “About 10 minutes. Should be done soon. Let's talk wedding dresses.”

Rhiannon smiled, leaning her head on Amara’s shoulder. “Happy solstice, mom.”

“Happy solstice, Rhi.”

#acotar #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x oc #rhys fic #rhysand x oc #elizabeths.maternitycelebration

[cupoftaae]

Could you do one where y/n is walking to home alone at night and is scared of someone and calls tae or somethingg ? :)) I love the Forever and a Day series!

Hello angel! sorry for the delay in post, been busy offline but im gonna get through my requests now, thank you for reading and loving the series! <3

No warnings, enjoy!!

"why are we getting dessert at 1am?"....."why not?" KTH DRABBLE

"Hi sweetheart, are you just getting out?" Taehyung sat up in bed, phone up to his ear as he picked up your call.

"Hi baby, yeah.." you exhale, walking out of your building and walking to go catch the train home to your apartment.

The past few weeks youve been working as an assistant dance instructor at a fine arts school. You loved teaching and dancing everyday, but some nights were long, and you couldnt let the students leave unless their choreography was perfect.

"How was work then?" he asked, feeling more awake

"well...we finished the main choreo which is actually really good considering we just started teaching it last saturday. I think they are catching onto it now....but we still had to stay late and do costumes and what not..."

"busy, busy girl" he chuckled softly, fidgeting with his shirt as he heard the tiredness in your voice.

"yeah you got that right" you sigh and walk over to cross the street, eyeing the boarding platform for the train. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

"ok my love..."

"do you want me to pick up anything? Im at the train but I can stop quickly at the 24 hour market and bu-"

"hello!"

You stopped talking to your boyfriend as you heard a voice appear behind you. You turned to meet eyes with a much taller man wearing a grey hoodie and baggy navy blue sweatpants. He could have been anywhere between 30-40 years old.

"Uhm-..hi?" you smiled quickly, confused. You hadnt seen anyone around when you first arrived.

"whos there with you?" taehyung listens in to the unfamiliar voice

"hang on, tae" you mumble, putting the phone down as the man steps a bit closer.

"you look very pretty!" the older man spoke calmly, making you cringe. He smelled of cigarettes and booze.

"oh...thanks, im not interested in anything...im sorry. Just waiting to catch the train" you nod and point at the empty tracks in front of you, putting the phone back up to your ear as you turn

"baby whos that?" taehyung frowned, turning down the tv so he could listen more closely.

"I dont know...im at the train and some guy is just trying to talk to me" you whisper through gritted teeth.

"what??" he panics

"how old are you?" the guy asks, now closer to you than before.

"sir...im a little uncomfy with you being so close, I am just trying to get home to my boyfriend, its very late." you try to speak without your voice shaking.

"ah come on...dont be like that, im sure he wont mind if your home a little later. why dont we go have a little fun?" he mumbled

you felt your heart sink to your stomach as you immediately backed up. you wish you hadn't left your stupid pepper spray at home.

"Y/N?" tae called out, but your phone was by your side as you looked back at him. "please.....just go away" you try again

He simply laughed and continued to step closer before a cop that mustve been nearby came up behind him, grabbing his attention.

"hello sir, mind if I ask why you are out here this late?"

He scoffed, shrugging dramatically.

The cop continued to press questions as you quickly made a gesture of appreciation and fled without him noticing you.

You ran off the platform and back into the parking lot of some random store, picking up the phone to see tae was still on the line.

"taehyung??"

"Y/N, what happened? whats going on??" his voice was fast, concerned.

"I- I dont know, i ran away but some guy was near me asking me questions and I just- the cop came by but im afraid to go to the train again...im just-"

"where are you right now?" he stopped you

you turn around to see the 7/11 type market before you, "Im by the convenient store on 11th street..."

"okay stay there, go inside if you can...im coming to get you okay?"

"okay..." you breathe out and sit on the curb right next to the front door, still shaking a bit as your eyes nervously peered around the street, cars passing every now and then.

Taehyung grabbed his keys and was gone within the next 5 minutes, his own nervousness getting to him. He drove to you, keeping you on the line to speak.

"what did he look like?"

"tae i dont know, he was just older...creepy. smelled awful."

"im so sorry that this happened, are you okay?"

"im fine...im just scared now" you laugh breathily.

"im almost there, ok?"

"mhm"

your feet swung against the concrete parking lot before you saw the familiar headlights of your boyfriend pulling in. you waved to grab his attention, him parking the car close to you.

He got out and hugged you, swaying lightly. "its okay"

you give him a squeeze, "im sorry you had to come all the way over here so late.."

"shh dont apologize, you should always keep this with you though" he grabbed the pepper spray you left at home, shoving it into your backpack as you laughed.

"but its pinkkkk" you whined

"so?"

"what guy is gonna be afraid of some pink pepper spray?"

"hey, pepper spray is pepper spray, you just have the bedazzled version. You spray and slay" he shrugged, making you cringe audibly.

"never fucking say that again" you laugh, pointing in his face as he holds your hand in his, beginning his walk to the markets front door.

"why are we going in here?" you ask

"mine as well" he smiled and opened the door, walking in and eyeing the people- free isles.

You followed him as he darted to the back of the building, lifting up the glass case and picking up 2 vanilla ice creams, then going to grab 2 iced coffees.

"whats all this?"

"dessert" he looked back and winked jokingly as he made his way to ring up the items.

You scoffed and stood behind him as he paid, "And why are we getting dessert at 1am?"

"why not" he chuckled and handed you the ice cream and coffee

"valid point" you giggle, "thank you"

He kissed your forehead and led you back out to the car, getting in and enjoying your late night snack.

"so you said the cop stopped him?"

you nodded, licking your cone and looking out the window. "He reeked of alcohol so I doubt it was because he was stalking some young girl....wonder if he was even arrested" you scoff

He hummed, pondering in thought.

The car went quiet for a moment

"do you think hes in the back seat?" tae suddenly spoke, side eyeing you.

"Tae!!!" you shout, playfully smacking his arm as he defensively raised his hands

"sorry, sorry!"

"one more word and im pepper spraying you"

#taehyung #kim taehyung bts #kim taehyung series #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung drabble #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #tae #tae fic #tae drabble #tae x reader #tae fluff #tae smut #bts fanfic #bts taehyung #taehyung bts #bts

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God

Chapter 8: Dragonstone

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: none

Words: 5700

A/n: Originally posted on AO3, posting to Tumblr before I get back to regular updates.

They rode through dusk, darkness and daybreak, far above the clouds to evade the prying eyes of friends, foes or otherwise.

When the wind picked up, Grey Ghost began a descent and the Narrow Sea sprawled out underneath them. At the sight of the water and the rush of waves, Luke gripped the dragon’s scales a little harder.

She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. She looked over her shoulder, and every time she saw nothing but empty space.

They finally rounded past Claw Isle and a fortress of grey and black stone faded into view through a salty mist. Dragonstone was forged with fire and magic, so the histories claim, the last outpost of Old Valyria, with stone dragons adorning the walls and towers against a backdrop of smoke swirling up from the Dragonmount.

This is where Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya planned their conquest, and now Queen Rhaenyra plots a war of her own.

Grey Ghost settled just outside the castle walls. She had tried to guide him to the courtyard, but he wouldn’t do it. Too loud, too busy, too vulnerable.

Two bodies collided into her the moment the gates opened. One was small, wrapping his skinny arms around her and pressing his head of dark curls against her waist. The other encompassed them both, pulling them into his chest.

Luke clutched Joffrey so tightly she worried she might squeeze the air from his lungs. She could think of worse fates than being smothered by the embrace of a loved one.

There had never been a day when the Velaryon siblings were parted, not until Storm’s End, not until their uncle had tried to tear her away from them. And yet here she was, in spite of it all, in spite of him, running her hand through Joffrey’s hair and leaning into Jace’s arms, pledging a silent vow to never leave them again.

For a few precious moments she allowed herself this bitter happiness.

Two dragons called out in sorrowful joy from the Dragonmount, Vermax’s rippling screech and Tyraxes’ almost feline growl. Some of the strength she had gathered shattered at their cries. No matter how long she held her brothers, the reunion was incomplete without Arrax.

Eventually she followed Jace to the hall of the painted table, where their Queen stood before a raging hearth, flickers of flame dancing in the gleam of her gold crown and silver hair. Her eyes were wide and glassy, fixed upon the map before her.

Every other pair of eyes in the hall fell to the Princess, Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon standing by the Westerlands, Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent by the Vale, Lord Corlys and Baela by Driftmark and the Gullet, and Rhaena, standing by the Queen’s side.

Daemon, she noticed, was not present.

“Princess Lucerra,” Ser Lorent finally announced, “of houses Velaryon and Targaryen.”

She must have looked anything but royal, draped in a heavy Northern cloak, her hair a tangled mess and the skin of her cheeks red from the wind.

She hadn’t stopped for food or rest during the flight from Winterfell, but she had been so desperate to make the journey that the thought of delaying by even a moment had filled her with dread. Another moment for something to go wrong. Another moment for someone else to die.

Her eyes were sunken, her lips downturned and effortlessly solemn, still, she looked to the Queen with a childlike innocence, waiting for a spark of recognition in her mother’s eyes.

Rhaenyra looked up from the map slowly. “Lucerra,” it came like a question, muddled as though she had just woken from a dream.

She wanted to run across the room, to collide into her mother and melt into her arms as she had done with Jace and Joffrey, but something kept her frozen where she stood. There was an emptiness Rhaenyra’s in eyes, like one of Alicent’s statues of the Seven, ethereal, but lifeless. 

“I am here, mother,” Luke said.

Rhaenyra wordlessly reached out a hand, and Luke approached her cautiously. When she curled her fingers around her hand she found her skin was cold.

Rhaenyra brought her other hand to cup Luke’s cheek, barely hovering a thumb over the almost faded cut below her eye, unable to take her gaze from it. 

Her lip trembled. “My sweet girl,” she uttered, “my precious girl.”

Living on Dragonstone is nothing like the quiet isolation of her childhood. Now it is like living in a history book. Soldiers train in the courtyard, knights patrol the hallways, Lords gather and debate around the painted table, and a fleet of ships hover beyond the shore.

Rhaena tried to suggest a walk through the village, to take their minds off it all, but even that left Luke with an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at her insides. The people scurried about like mice, quick and avoidant, terrified at what might come should this war get bloodier.

She does not find comfort in her bedchamber. It feels too large, too empty, and when the wind is too harsh her mind starts to slip, to the rain, the storm, Vhagar’s open jaws… 

When the nightmares persist she goes to Jace’s chambers. If he’s awake he’ll let her have the bed. If he’s asleep she settles on the settee and watches the embers in the fireplace fade until she can’t keep her eyes open.

Her mother’s council gathers daily to discuss the war, but it is not the Queen who takes command of these meetings. Jace has aged again after their time together in the North, only now it shows through the assuredness of his voice, the way he carries himself, the eager glimmer in his eye as he addresses their allies.

Luke ensures she is present for every meeting, standing alongside Lord Corlys and her step-sisters.

Daemon sends ravens from Harrenhal; their numbers are increasing every day as more and more houses of the Riverlands pledge their fealty to the one true Queen, either of their own admission or with some ‘persuading’ by the Rogue Prince and his dragon. Given the pact made with Cregan Stark, the North will soon come to double their numbers.

Baela gives her a suggestive glance at the reminder of her betrothal. Luke’s eyes dart down to her hands as she runs her nails over her fingertips.

Lord Celtigar asks about Dorne. Maester Gerardys notes Prince Qoren is keen to avoid this conflict and similar sentiments come from the Tyrells.

“We should not disregard the Reach,” Jace insists. “Highgarden may not want a part in this war but the Hightowers have influence enough in Oldtown to form a formidable host.”

“Indeed, Lord Ormund has already begun the march to King’s Landing,” says Lord Bar Eammon.

Jace presses his lips together and inches the Hightower figure along the map. The Greens have the support of the South and the West of Westeros, and their allies are closing in to defend the capital against Daemon’s growing host.

Then comes the concerns of dragons.

Rhaenyra straightens her shoulders. “We still outnumber them,” she says stiffly.

Lord Corlys’ eyes darken. “The simple fact remains,” he says, hands clenching into fists by his side, “as long as the Greens have Vaghar, we are at a disadvantage.” 

Luke feels Baela tense beside her and reaches for her sister’s wrist, stroking her thumb over her sleeve, the same way her mother had always soothed them as children. 

Rhaenyra returns Lord Corlys’ glare and the room settles into a restless silence. 

Eyes flitter everywhere, between the Queen and the Lord of the Tides, locked in a cold conflict neither have any intention of backing down from, and to Luke herself, the Princess who should be dead. She grips Baela’s wrist a little tighter.

Rhaena had told her of the day the raven came from Rook’s Rest. Rhaenyra had simply stared at the letter from Lord Staunton, begging for aid in the face of the Green host. She said Jace had volunteered to go with Rhaenys, and that Rhaenyra seemed to come to life when he did, only to forbid him from going. So Rhaenys went alone. And shortly after word came of her demise.

With Meleys dead and Craxes in the Riverlands, no dragon they have could hope to stand against Vaghar.

For this though, Jace has a solution.

She wakes with the sunrise and Jace is already gone. She returns to her own chambers where a maid is waiting for her with new riding leathers. She slips into black leather leggings, a crimson skirt and matching undershirt. Then the maid helps her into a black leather tunic, patterned with intertwining dragons of red and gold. The material is thicker than she’s used to, for keeping out the cold presumably, it would hardly save her from Vhagar’s teeth and talons.

Her eyes are drawn to a breastplate and pauldron set, laid out by the window. The metal is plated with silver and layered like dragonscales. Beside that is a sheathed sword.

“Do you like your gift?” Even when softly spoken, the voice of Lord Corlys is booming and demanding.

Her eyes dart to where he stands in the doorway, his tall and broad frame obstructing her view of the hallway behind him. She has never known him as a young man, and yet for the first time she truly sees his age on his face. She wonders what has finally cracked the Sea Snake, the six years of war in the Stepstones? The fever that had his family fighting over his throne? The death of his beloved wife seems the most obvious answer.

He offers her a small smile that does not reach his eyes, and nods towards the blade.

When she looks closer, she sees the golden hilt is fashioned into the image of a seahorse, the sigil of house Velaryon. She supposes she should feel some sort of pride to wield the image of her father’s house, and yet…

She wraps her fingers around it and her brows twist into a delicate frown. “This is for me?”

Lord Corlys sighs. She listens to the thud of his boots against the stone floor as he makes his way to her side. If he understands her reservation, he will not satisfy it. “Prince Jacaerys tells me you are a rather capable combatant.”

She grips the hilt tightly despite the resistance in her fingers. Her strength is still not what is once was.

“Daemon made sure of that,” she murmurs.

Her step-father’s name comes with an image of the silver-haired twins she had only gotten a glimpse of in King’s Landing, the terrified little glares on their pale faces as they hid themselves behind their mother’s skirts. It is too easy to imagine their linen gowns stained with blood.

She dispels the swelling in her eyes and looks back up to her grandsire, the man who had put himself between her and a vengeful Alicent all those years ago on Driftmark, who had held her as she had cried herself to exhaustion on the night of Ser Laenor’s death. She forces a smile of her own.

He tilts his head down to her, bewildered for a moment, before he opens his arms. She settles unsurely in his embrace, but he holds her firmly, resting a hand on the back of her head. She takes a few shuddering breaths to find he smells like Laenor.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“Whatever for?”

She takes another shaky breath, breathing in his bitterness and warmth, and the lingering scent of the sea. She wasn’t the one who ordered a dragon after Meleys and Rhaenys, she wasn’t the one to sever Jaehaerys or Jaehaera’s heads from their bodies and yet she feels the burden of their deaths in her heart. “Everything.”

Corlys gently pulls away from her, so he can look into her eyes. “War enacts a terrible price…” the thought seems to get caught in his throat. 

“The pain must be worth something,” she says in a shaky voice.

He does not answer her.

It will be worth it, she tells herself, when the Black banners line the halls of the Red Keep and Rhaenyra Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. It has to be.

Lord Corlys follows her to the entrance hall where Jace is already waiting with five others, all dressed in riding leathers, though their faces are unfamiliar to her.

Two spark some kind of vague recognition. They must be brothers, the same features in their faces, the same dark skin and shade of silver hair. The taller one has an assured smirk on his lips and locks that fall to his shoulders. The shorter one has a slightly more timid, wide-eyed gaze and close cropped hair. 

Her grandfather greets them warmly, gripping their hands and slapping their backs. Then she realises, their smiles are identical to the Sea Snake’s. She glances at Jace. He raises his eyebrows at her.

Corlys introduces them as Alyn and Addam of Hull, bastards of Laenor’s, her half-brothers. Luke grins, she can think of several ways why that might be a lie. At least they seem more savoury than the other pair of men with silver hair.

Hugh Hammer is a monster of a man, tall and built like a bull, and he frowns like one. By contrast, Ulf, ‘the white’ as the people of Dragonstone call him, is thin and wiry, next to Hugh, he looks like nothing more than skin on bones. They only make gruff grunts of acknowledgement when Jace introduces them, glaring at her through harsh violet eyes.

The last of their group is a girl, with black braids and dark skin, dressed in humble brown riding leathers. She’s shorter and slimmer than Luke, but the scar across the bridge of her nose and the creases around her mouth lead her to wonder if she is older than she appears. 

“Nettles,” she says, extending a small but calloused hand. 

Luke doesn’t understand at first.

Jace huffs a laugh. “Princess Lucerra, might I introduce Nettles.” He turns to the girl. “Nettles, Princess Lucerra is the daughter of the Queen, you should address her accordingly.”

She tuts to herself and bends her knees in an odd attempt at a curtsy. “Sorry, Princess.”

Luke takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “That’s alright, I’m not usually one for formalities at the best of times.”

Once Baela appears, dressed in leathers that match Luke’s, they make their way out to the yard, towards the Dragonmount. 

In all her years living on Dragonstone, she has only seen glimpses of the larger dragons, heard their roars from the mount, seen their distant figures soaring through the sky. And all of a sudden she is faced with Vermithor, Silverwing and Sheepstealer, stalking towards their new riders. 

Her heart leaps at a familiar whistling screech as Seasmoke rises from the mount, twirling through the air before he lands to come to Addam’s side.

She watches as Jace’s eyes light up at the sight before them; six dragons, eager for flight, ready to take their place in this war. 

She has to wait until the others have taken flight before Grey Ghost finally comes to join her. Not too eagerly, she summons some of the dragon keepers, bringing with them heavy bundles of leather. The dragon grumbles at the company, but she keeps a hand against the scales of his neck, stroking where his hide is delicate, uttering phrases of reassurance. 

It takes her a while to figure out how to fit the saddle. The dragon keepers had always helped her with Arrax, but she manages it, helped immensely by Grey Ghost’s unusual but welcome show of patience. 

Once she has given him a few moments to adjust to the feeling of the saddle, she gives the order, and they bolt into the sky. 

At first they are a restless mass, flashes of bronze, silver, pale green, emerald, and grey dancing over the castle, until Vermax emerges from the group, darting out towards the sea. The others follow behind him, forming an instinctive formation, Grey Ghost and Moondancer, Seasmoke and Sheepstealer, with Vermithor and Silverwing bringing up the rear.

Luke looks over to Baela, her silver curls flailing in the wind behind her, a wide and eager grin across her lips. Ahead of them, Jace keeps his eye fixed on the horizon, leading them all through twists, turns and dives down towards the sea until seven tails skim the surface of the water. 

“Today is only the beginning,” he promises once they have dismounted. “We’ll be an army in our own right, the most formidable force of dragons since the conquest.”

“An ambitious standard,” Baela says with a sly smile, tearing her gloves off with her teeth. Luke can’t help but agree.

There can be no room for error in a dance of dragons. One faulty manoeuvre and you fall. One oversight and you are claimed by teeth and talons. And that’s so long as you can keep control of your dragon. Restraint and unity, above all else, is essential. Fly as one. Think as one. Die as one. 

Jace has the Dragonseeds training from the early morning until dusk each day and Luke is keen to include herself. Grey Ghost is still wary of the other dragons, especially the larger three, Vermithor, Silverwing and Sheepstealer, but he warms to Vermax, Seasmoke and Moondancer well enough. They fly over Dragonstone and Driftmark, along the routes she and Arrax had well memorised. 

Grey Ghost eases under her guidance every time they fly. Each day she pushes him a little further, urges him to fly faster, climb higher amongst the clouds where the air is thin and dive back down to the sea until there are tears streaming from her eyes. 

When she comes back to the ground she goes to the yard, to spar with the sword Lord Corlys has gifted her and practise with her bow.

The sun fades with no great bursts of red or gold painting the sky. Darkness creeps in slowly, and the clouds above Dragonstone turn to a deep violet. The wind howls against the battlements around the courtyard, but the air is still. Luke’s fingertips are raw as they pull back on the bow. She has promised herself she will not return to the castle until she can shoot ten bullseyes in a row.

She releases the arrow. It cuts through the air with a whistle and lands in the straw, perfectly centred. One.

She traces her fingertips over the feathers of the next, squinting at her target through the low light of the evening and the dull fatigue in her eyes.

Two… three… four…

She hears the crackle of dirt underfoot as someone paces behind her.

Five… and the sixth is a little off centre. She gnaws at the flesh inside her mouth, but allows herself the benefit of the doubt and lines up her next arrow.

“You are relentless, Princess.” 

She finally lowers the bow, realising the ache that has appeared in her left arm, but what is pain to her now? She’s suffered worse. “Would you expect different of me? We are at war.”

Alyn takes a step closer to her, plucking a finger against the string of her bow to her frustration. “Lord Corlys speaks very highly of you... and your brothers.”

She flicks his hand away from her bow. “How endearing, but it is a shame he has never mentioned you.”

“Addam and I are bastards, nothing of note.”

An attempt at humility, or perhaps he means to insult her? But there’s a sadness in his eyes, despite the small smile playing at his lips. 

She presses her teeth together. Sometimes she feels foolish for not having realised why her hair was brown sooner. Jace whispered it to her, as they watched Harwin Strong leave the Red Keep from a window.

“Have you always known?” She asks.

“My mother always told us stories of our father, a great warrior and an even greater sailor; some might say the greatest the world has ever known. Imagine my surprise when the Lord of Driftmark paid a visit to Hull and told me my true father was Laenor Velaryon.”

One of her hands curls into a fist. “Don't you dare. Laenor was an honourable man."

“I wouldn’t dream of denying it," he says with a slight tilt of his head. "Though he had an incredible talent for fathering children, despite his... preferences."

In a fluid flash of movement she positions another arrow into her bow and shoots. Seven. “So you’ve decided to approach me merely to insult my father?”

“He is my father as much as he is yours, Princess.”

She huffs a disbelieving laugh and lets another arrow loose. Eight, though slightly off again. 

Alyn’s eyes follow her strike. His lips curl into a strange sort of smirk. She can’t decide if he’s impressed or amused. “I've gotten off topic. No, I only meant to say that Lord Corlys is fond of you.”

“Why would I need to hear that from you?” She asks, keeping her eyes on the target as she lines up her ninth arrow.

“Surely it hasn’t escaped your attention of his-”

Crack. She grins as number nine splits right through the first arrow.

“-current displeasure.”

"Have some sympathy for our grandfather, Alyn, he is still in mourning for his wife after all."

His nostrils flare as he takes a slow and steady breath. “He believes Rhaenys might have had a chance, if only Rhaenyra had allowed Prince Jacaerys to join her at Rook's Rest.

Luke stands rigidly as a shiver slips down her spine. Burned beyond recognition, their scouts had said. The Queen who never was, left as a pile of ash in a pool of dried blood underneath the rotting carcass of her dragon. Meleys was a force enough on her own, and Rhaenys had a lifetime of skill and experience. It still hadn’t been enough to save either of them.

“To send Jace would have been to condemn him to death," she decides.

“And yet you managed to survive an encounter with Vaghar.”

Crack. Number ten cuts through number nine, leaving a scattering of splinters on the ground below the target. They both watch them fall. 

The howls of the wind become more ghastly with every passing moment, as does the sound of the waves, crashing and retreating against the shore below the castle and the cliffs. If Laenor were here she is certain he would anticipate a storm approaching.

With a grim “hmm” through a clenched jaw, she sets the bow aside and marches to pick the arrows from the target. 

Alyn trails her at a respectable distance, standing just over her shoulder. “Rhaenyra needs the Velaryon fleet,” he says under his breath, “she cannot hope to win this war without us, without Corlys.”

Luke sighs. “The Targaryens and the Velaryons are kin. Corlys will defend his family.”

“If we are so closely bonded, why did Rhaenyra need to betroth her son to Lady Baela?”

Rhaenys had seen right through Rhaenyra and called the arrangement for what it as. A desperate offer, but they needed Driftmark. It seems a lifetime ago they were stood in the throne room of the Red Keep, arguing over petitions.

With a particularly tough yank, she pulls the final arrow and turns to face him with a vacant glare. “Are you trying to bait me?”

“I wish for you to know that we can speak freely with one another, we are family after all.”

She pouts her lips disapprovingly, not realising she's doing it.

“I do not doubt Lord Corlys’ loyalty,” Alyn says, “but the Queen would do well to earn it.”

A flash of anger fades from her chest as quickly as it comes. He's insulted her family so brazenly, but somehow she understands him.

Because he’s right. The Velaryons have sided with Rhaenyra by the will of one man, even after she named Joffrey heir to Driftmark and Daemon beheaded Vaemond Velaryon for daring to speak against them. Her mother treads on thin ice, and should Corlys decide his interests could lie elsewhere… 

“Luke!”

She snaps her lips shut and glances over her shoulder. Baela is waiting for her on the steps to the castle.

“You’ll be late for dinner if you delay any further,” her step-sister calls, striding towards them, uncaring as the hem of black gown drags along the dirt of the yard. “Gods, are you still in your riding leathers?”

“You can help me dress,” Luke says, reaching for her bow and her sheathed sword. She buckles it to her hip, letting her fingers run over the golden seahorse hilt. She tilts her head to Alyn. “I wish you a pleasant evening,” she says shortly.

“And you, Princess,” he says with a smile. His gaze doesn’t linger on Luke for long before he turns to the woman beside her.

Baela looks rather immaculate this evening, her hair pulled into a bun to display a pair of delicate pearl drop earrings and a silver necklace sitting on her collar.

“Lady Baela," he says in a surprisingly warm tone.

Baela mutters a formality, glancing at him for only a moment before her eyes dart to the ground. 

Luke grabs her arm and the two march back through the doors of the castle.

Baela shoots a few glances over her shoulder, to find the corridors as quiet as they had left them. “What did he want?”

Luke sighs, knowing she can’t stall for too long. “He spoke of my father- our father, I suppose.”

“Anything else?”

I wish for you to know that we can speak freely with one another. He’d certainly been honest in that regard.

“Nothing of any significance,” she says as lightheartedly as she can.

Baela pouts her lips and presses no further.

Lord Corlys’ displeasure eases once Jace names him Hand of the Queen. Rhaenyra presents him with the very pin she tore from Otto Hightower in a brief ceremony before the council. Alyn and Addam stand by his side, now proudly bearing the name Velaryon.

With the Velaryon fleet holding the Gullet and the Dragonseeds patrolling the skies, Jace puts forth his strategy to take King’s Landing within a matter of weeks. 

Luke stands by her mother’s side and keeps her eyes fixed on the floor.

There is just one detail keeping Jace from mounting Vermax and leading the other dragons to the capital.

“We have Vermithor and Silverwing to match Vaghar on strength,” Addam says, “and aside from that we have the numbers to overwhelm her.”

“It would require sacrifices nonetheless,” Rhaenyra says, clutching at Luke’s fingers. Her touch is still cold.

Jace stands at the other end of the table, leaning on his palms over the vast expanse of the North. “Vhagar may be their only fighting dragon, but Aemond is ruthless.”

The Queen agrees. “We will wait upon Prince Daemon’s word.”

Luke frowns. Wait for what?  

Until then, Jace sets another plan into motion. Two ships wait in the harbour, one headed for The Eyrie, the other for Pentos, and the dragon keepers have been instructed to prepare Tyraxes, Moondancer and Grey Ghost to leave Dragonstone.

Viserys is too young to put up any resistance. He sits in Rhaena’s arms, fiddling with a silver bead in her hair and cooing to himself. But the boy knows something is wrong when his sister holds him a little tighter and his brother, Aegon, starts to wail.

Joffrey clings to Luke’s hand, his head darting between his older siblings. Jace can’t look any of them in the eyes, but Luke glares at him all the same.

“You can’t be serious, Jace,” Baela says, crouching beside Aegon to muffle his cries against her shoulder.

“It’s for your own safety.”

“No,” Rhaena breathes, “we can’t be parted from each other.”

“It won’t be forever, just until the war is over.”

“But you cannot say when that will be,” Luke says.

Jace meets her eyes.

Her brother has always been her protector, the voice of reason where she had an impulse for recklessness. Braver than her, stronger than her, stubborn in his own way but not as determined as his little sister.

Now looking at Jace is like looking in a mirror, two pairs of brown eyes, with the same flecks of gold around their pupils, glaring back at each other with passive fury that could bring the Targaryen dynasty to its knees.

“I won’t go,” Baela grumbles.

“Nor will I,” Luke says.

“And me!” Joffrey pipes in, “please, Jace, I want to fight alongside you!"

“Enough!”

The older siblings cease their bickering, the stunned silence interrupted only by the cries of the little ones as Rhaenyra rushes to take Viserys into her arms. She looks more like a mother than she has for weeks, without a crown, her hair loose about her shoulders and wearing a simple gown underneath her black robe.

“Oh my loves,” she breathes, rocking her youngest into a settled sadness. Viserys gurgles little sobs into his mother’s neck, but the quiet It dispels Aegon too, clutching at Baela’s skirts and gazing up at Rhaenyra with sad, lavender eyes.

Luke squeezes Joffrey’s hand. What she wouldn’t give to be that small again, curled into her mother’s arms.

Keeping Viserys in one arm, Rhaenyra brings the other around Baela’s shoulder, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead. “You have all been so brave, but you should not have to be.”

“It is our duty, is it not? To stand by your side and claim what has been taken from us,” Baela says.

Rhaenyra’s eyes fall to Luke. “I have already asked too much of my children.”

Luke frowns. She was not ready to go to Storm’s End, she knew it the moment she saw Vaghar over the battlements. But she will be ready the next time she crosses paths with her uncle. 

With the little ones handed back to their nursemaids, and Baela and Rhaena taking Joffrey’s hand to bring him to bed, Luke stands before her brother and her Queen. 

The heat from the hearth, almost the height she is, burns against the right side of her face and lights a fire in her eyes. “I want to fight for your throne,” she says.

“Out of the question," Jace snaps.

“I have already survived an attack by Vaghar.”

“Barely. And Arrax didn’t.”

“Grey Ghost is not Arrax.”

“You’re being foolish.”

“Do you think you know better than I what is at risk? Is that why you get to play war and I do not?”

“This is not a game, Luke,” Rhaenyra warns.

She shakes her head frantically, hardly aware she’s doing it. “Of course it isn’t, but there has to be a reason, a reason why I suffered.” Her breath seems to fade from her lungs. “Aemond- the Greens must suffer for what they have done to our family!”

“You think you could be the one do it?” Jace sneers. “You slashed out Aemond’s eye and had nightmares about it for eight years.”

She digs her nails into her palms to stop herself from screaming at him. She allows herself a moment to slow her breath, to gather her thoughts through the pumping of her heart in her ears.

“Things are different now. I am different.” She sees it in the world around her, fixing her attention to the cold and the colour grey more than she used to. She feels it in the constant ache in her muscles, like every movement she makes is wrong. She’s so tired and yet restless. “Please, mother, do not send me from your side.”

“She should return to Winterfell, to her betrothed-”

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra holds a hand to silence him. When she looks back to Luke, she seems equally exhausted, hardly able to muster neither a smile or a frown. “I would not have you be a warrior.”

“But-”

“Promise me, Lucerra, promise me you will stay by my side.”

“I… I promise, your Grace.”

Joffrey and Rhaena leave the very next morning. After a tearful farewell, Rhaena boards the ship that will take her to the Eyrie with her pale pink hatching, Morning, perched on her shoulder. Once the ship sets sail, Tyraxes swoops down from the Dragonmount, to fly alongside them. 

And the day after that, the little ones begin their journey across the Narrow Sea, to be fostered by the Prince of Pentos. They make their way down to the harbour in the early morning, the Queen and her children, with Ser Erryk to accompany them.

Aegon toddles along the dock with his dragon, Stormcloud, clutched in his arms like a doll, while Viserys keeps his egg close to his chest.

“Don’t lose it, Vis,” Jace smiles, “hold it tight.”

The boy shakes his head and tightens his grip as much as his pudgy little arms will allow.

Rhaenyra holds them for what must be an eternity, knowing it will never be enough time. She lets them go, choking down a sob as she bids farewell to two more children. She cannot bring herself to linger for long. Once the ship leaves the harbour, she walks with Ser Erryk back to the castle.

Luke, Baela and Jace stand and watch the ship until it vanishes over the horizon. The sun has started to set and the sky burns a blood red, illuminating the sea in a similar shade.

“It won’t be for long,” Jace says, “the moment I step foot in King’s Landing, I’ll send word, and we’ll be together again.”

Luke looks to the West as the sun sets. The Red Keep is there, somewhere beyond the skyline, it always has been, but now she feels more aware of it than ever.

She doesn’t dream much as of late. Her sleep is broken, fading in and out of darkness. Sometimes she sees glimpses of faces, flashes of silver hair, spurts of blood and flickers of flame.

Other times she feels a breath teasing the skin of her neck, a cruel whisper of a voice as a hand traces along her body. Her own voice hums in her throat. She utters the last half of a name that makes her blood burn.

She shifts up to see if Jace is still in his bed. Luckily for her, he’s fast asleep, jaw slack and snoring.

After that she starts sleeping in her own chambers, no matter how loudly the wind howls or how the sound of the sea makes her shiver. When Jace asks her why, she lies and says it’s because her nightmares have stopped.

Tags: @boundlessfantasy @toodlesxcuddles @starwarssslut @skikikikiikhhjuuh @arcielee

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #my fics #karma is a god

[fellow-traveller]

This is gonna be long, so if you don't have the time to read it, it's cool, I'll summarise it like this:

I think I'm back. Kinda. Expect some blasts of Hol Horse fanart that I missed sharing here since November 2023 (if you followed my Twitter/X, you might have seen them)

Okay, I know excuses can be bad but here's mine to kinda justify my absence.

I admit that I had been feeling depressed with what's happening in P@lest1ne for the past 6 months, because I had never seen it happening in real time, in videos and interviews. 20+ years ago, anything about them came in the form of stories from actual P@lest1nians whom I had the privilege to meet during my volunteer work in school, and newspaper articles from local publishers. Our local broadcasters still chant FTRTTS whenever they talk about them. But the real-time atrocities and the aftermath really got me hard. I'm not one to shy away from real-life gore - true crime is my go-to documentary whenever I'm relaxing - but what's happening there - the injustice, the brutality, the depravity - can be too much for me to bear.

I'm not saying I'm used to it by now...I still hear my heart break with every dead and hungry child I see on my screen, but at the same time, I feel a bit more hopeful. Mainly because I believe in the P@lest1nians' faith and resilience, and I believe in mine.

Apart from world events, on a personal level, my company moved to a new building in December, about an extra 30 minutes drive away from my home, so I was almost on a blackout from online stuff back then. Didn't even touch the 1 Day 1 Hol Horse challenge (but thankfully they are done now...will share them later). The move-out was done around the end of January 2024, and then I got busy again with work in February. Work had been very hectic because everything had been disorganised since the move. Even now, we don't really have internet in the new building and had to use our phone data for that.

Wanted to get back last month, but delayed it until today because my cat was sick with cancer. My cat, little Vee, whom I had for 12 years, just passed 2 days ago, 1 day before my birthday ;-;

Anyway, all that said, I think I'm ready to be back now on tumblr. I know I missed a lot of drawings that I kinda promised myself to finish (like the Halloween Hol), and also posting the 1 Day 1 Hol Horse doodles. I missed other people's Hol Horse and HolPol fanart as well. I also have a few thoughts I wanted to share of our favourite JoJo cowboy too...

So in the next few hours, I'll be doing just that. I apologise for the massive spam that's about to come beforehand. Just note that if you cannot wait for the fanart blast, you're welcomed to dig for them on my Twitter/X.

On current notes, I'm in the middle of doing The Emperor Month Challenge. Basically, Hol Horse with the other Part 3 characters. I missed 2 days now, but I'll be catching up. This will be on until the end of this month.

For now, I won't be doing requests/art trades because I wanna start drawing for my JoJo OCs. I have been neglecting them for months.

Hopefully the depression will simmer down. The world is a mess, and I'm trying to soldier on.

Oh, and to my Muslim followers, Happy Eid-ul-Fitr. ♥

#personal #update #i miss you guys #the love for the entire equine must go on

[sarahowritesostucky]

Re-uploading my library with only the fluffier🌺 pieces, because fiction⛔reality, but nobody told the 🧌🧌 that

If you used to follow me at sarah-writes-stucky, this is the reboot of that blog, so please give a follow and a re-blog! I miss y'all!

📖"Wet Dream" - Rated E

(gorgeous manip in the banner made by the amazingly talented @kocuria)

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Dom/sub au, dom Bucky, sub Steve, post-serum Steve, age gap (20's/40's) , cock cages, Orgasm delay/denial, m! rec. oral, submissive release, teasing, domestic, light humiliation, tiny!dick Steve, size kink, dumbification, subspace, biological D/s

Summary: Bucky's teased him for twelve days, and Steve's taken it beautifully, going down easier each night that he's denied and tucked away into his cage. It's no wonder he's started having wet dreams, humping the bedding without any self-control.

Bucky is drawn from sleep by a cadence of soft, breathy sounds. At first, he doesn’t realize what it is that’s woken him. He’s too busy yawning and shuddering through a big stretch, eyelids fluttering from the assault of sunlight streaming in through his east-facing bedroom windows. It isn’t until he’s lying there, rubbing the phantom ache from his left shoulder and reconsidering the purchase of blackout curtains like he does every morning, that he hears it:

A soft, pleasured little “oghn,” from Steve’s side of the bed.

Bucky’s eyes shoot open and he turns his head with an incredulous expression, thinking that Steve’s over there touching himself. But he isn’t awake, and Bucky feels his cock stir as he realizes that Steve isn’t touching himself.

Steve’s never been the type to brat in obvious ways—emphasis on “obvious,” because he does have his ways. And those behaviors usually get worse the more stressed out over something he is. These past few weeks have been busy and fast-paced. Steve’s work keeps loading new patients onto his already overfull plate, and Bucky’s got his three (soon to be four) businesses to run. That means a lot of time spent apart. But Bucky’s not neglectful. He’s been domming Steve in one of the only ways he has available to him when they get less than a single waking hour to spend together each day, for day after day after day: Denial.

Steve had accepted another tease and tuck last night with nothing more than a whimper and a sniffled, ‘yessir’, that’d made Bucky’s dick attempt a second coming, even after he’d already fucked a load between Steve’s tightly-clamped and oiled thighs.

No, Bucky thinks, watching his boy in the morning’s mote-specked sunshine. Steve isn’t touching himself; he’s dreaming.

He’s on his front, face turned towards Bucky on the pillow, pretty lashes fanned out against his cheeks while he dreams. He’s breathing open mouthed and moaning quietly, a concentrated little pinch lodged firmly between his eyebrows. It looks like he’s struggling to find completion even in his dreams.

“Mmm … nnn, unngh, mmm—”

Bucky chuckles. “Poor baby,” he murmurs, turning on his empty side to watch.

He’s always had a bit of a thing for touching his subs when they’re unable to resist, and sleep is no different than a bunch of well-tied jute, in that regard. In a lot of ways it’s even better, even more of a surrender. You can’t safeword when you’re unconscious, after all. It’s something you have to consent to while knowing full well how vulnerable you’ll be. How helpless. The sheer intimacy inherent in that level of trust is breathtakingly seductive to someone like Bucky.

Bucky wore an old Army tee shirt and some boxers to bed last night, but as a matter of protocol, Steve always sleeps naked. Bucky reaches over and trails a single finger down the muscled slope of his back, warm and firm, all the way down to his absolute peach of an ass. Not squeezing it is almost painful, but Bucky refrains anyway, not wanting the moment to end quite yet.

“My little blanket hog,” he whispers fondly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Steve’s been humping the mattress, the blankets and sheets pulled over and bunched under his hips from a night’s worth of fitful sleeping. He’s squirming and moaning out the cutest, most helpless little noises, making Bucky want to eat him right up.

He turns away, because he’s gonna need arms for this.

He moves carefully to avoid waking Steve, reaching over the side of the bed to grab his prosthesis off the floor. It hums in recognition when he holds it up at the anchor site, snapping into place and all the plates giving a synchronized shiver as the system recalibrates.

He scoots over and puts his face right by Steve’s so that he can watch him wake, retracing with his flesh hand: down the slope of his back, across his sacrum, and between his cheeks. He traces over his hole and further down, to stroke fingertips absently against the plump stretch of his taint. Even that part of him is a little swollen, which makes Bucky’s heart squeeze and his dick ache at how much he knows his boy has taken from him in the past few days.

Willingly taken, Jesus. The thought of it just about does Bucky in.

He circles his fingers, using only the barest amount of pressure. Steve makes another quiet sound in his sleep, the touch obviously finding its way into whatever dream he’s having. Bucky smiles and reaches further between his legs to cup the velvety skin of his sac. His balls are warm and full, and Bucky tuts in sympathy. He lies next to him and kisses at his slack mouth while he wakes up. When Steve’s eyes finally flutter open, he looks lost for a moment.

Bucky hums. “Hey, Sugar. Looked like you were having some real sweet dreams, there.”

“Mmmh?” Steve shivers and sticks his ass back for more as he registers the hand between his legs. “M’yeah.” He sighs. “I was.” He starts moving his hips again, thrusting into the bunched sheets with more coordination and intent. “Nnn, fuck.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh. “None of that, now. Only what I give you.”

Steve groans miserably, but after a second’s hesitation he does obey, rolling over to avoid the temptation of humping the bed any further.

Bucky slides one hand up to paw at the swell of his chest—massive, muscled, hairless—and nuzzles into his neck, inhaling the scent of Steve that’s so present after a night’s sleep. God, he loves it. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks between kisses to his neck. He hears Steve hum, feels one of his hands appear on his forearm to play along the dusting of hair there. Steve mumbles something unintelligible and lazy, probably having already let his eyes slip closed again. “Ah ah,” Bucky purrs. “Tell me.” It’s light, playful, laced with a hint of his Command to get Steve flustered.

“Mmm. Um …” Steve shudders as Bucky captures a nipple and rolls it between his fingers. “Buck, oh. Y-you.”

“Me?” Bucky chuckles. “What about me, huh?”

“Oh, I … unh, I dunno.”

He nips Steve’s neck, fingers pulse-pinching his nipple to the cadence of his words: “Uh-uh, Sleepy-head. Tell-me.”

“Mmm, was fuckin’ you,” Steve says, lazy smile playing at the edges of his mouth like he’s still dreaming it. “Only … you had a pussy?” He frowns and then giggles. “I dunno. Makes no sense. Like when you dream your dog as a cat, you know? And like, in the dream it’s a cat, but dream-you still knows it’s your dog?”

Bucky snorts. “I don’t know which is worse: the thought of you secretly being a cat person, or you secretly being straight.”

“Buck, you’re a cat pers—”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” he says, in his best Dom growl, eliciting another giggle from Steve.

“But you’ve got Alpine—"

“She’s a roommate, you little smartass.”

“Still uses a litterbox,” Steve grumbles.

Bucky ignores that and goes back to mouthing at his neck. “Anyway, now that I know how you really feel about pussies … and pussies—” Steve whines and smacks at his forearm, and Bucky grins against his skin. “Settle down, you. I’m just teasin’. Tell me more.”

“Mmn.” Steve pouts. “No.”

“‘No’?” Bucky says it warningly, letting his voice dip down into that dark and viscous register where it carries the extra weight needed to make Steve shiver pleasantly. He kisses the shell of his ear. “Want to try that again, sweetheart?”

“Nnn. I don’ remember anything else. Jus’ felt good.”

“And you were fucking me. And I had a pussy.” He lets his nail dig in at Steve’s nipple, grinning when it elicits another shiver. “Only pussy I see around here is between your legs, honey. Right behind that little thing you call a penis.”

“S’a dream,” Steve complains, blushing prettily at the jab to his cock (Bucky knows what his boy likes). “Doesn’t have’ta make sense.”

“Hm, you’re right. It sure doesn’t. But dreams can be telling sometimes.” Bucky stretches out alongside Steve’s big body, one foot hooked over his shin to keep his legs spread apart. “Look down and watch,” he murmurs. He waits until Steve has obeyed before he starts to slide his flesh hand down over that drool-worthy chest, those hardened abs, that flat belly framed by those thick obliques. All the way down to the place where silicon meets skin.

Steve’s still wearing the sweet mint green he went to bed in, though he’s got a whole slew of colors to choose from. A lot of internet shopping had happened, back when Bucky first became Steve’s keyholder. He’d found a site that would custom make any cage, any type, sized to fit; and then had a field day picking out all the pretty, soft pastel colors that the company offered. Just the fitting and the shopping and the trying-on had been exercises in the sort of delicate humiliation that Bucky knows Steve thrives on.

They’re not twenty-four-seven people, but when they do cage, they use rubber—some soft enough to give a good fondle through, others so sturdy that Bucky knows there’s no way Steve could ever dream about rubbing one out while locked. The custom fit is important, too. Most metal varieties of cock cages tend to be sized for more … endowed men, and Steve—to Bucky’s eternal delight—requires no such accommodation.

He closes his hand over Steve’s cock. “Whose is this?” he asks sweetly. “Mm?”

“Y-yours,” Steve breathes, licking his lips and staring down at Bucky’s hand. “Oh, ss’yours.”

“That’s right. And why did we decide that, hm? Can you remember that for me, big guy?”

It takes Steve several tries before he manages to stutter out a breathy, “I–I–I touch it. I t-touch it too much.”

Bucky hums in approval. “And I give you your pretty cages to help you with that, don’t I?”

“Yessir.”

“Help keep this sweet prick from getting too excited. Cause that’s when it starts getting big ideas, getting confused about what it’s for.”

Again, Steve nods distractedly, all of his attention down at the place where Bucky’s cradling his junk. “Th-thank you, Sir,” he whispers unprompted, grateful to Bucky, even after night after night of teasing and denial.

Bucky’s lips curl and his heart pretty much melts. Fuck, does he ever love this kid. “You’re welcome, baby. But then, are you supposed to be stimulating yourself in your cage?”

Steve sniffles and shakes his head. “Mm mn.”

Bucky tuts sympathetically. “It’s my fault. I thought you could handle the softer cage for bedtime. But that just lets you feel too good when you start squirming around in your sleep, huh? And once you get going, it’s real hard for you to stop.” Between Steve’s legs, he gives his handful a jostle. “S’okay. You know I don’t blame you for any of that. This big, dumb body’s got a lot of urges, that’s all.” He pecks a kiss to Steve’s ear and whispers, “You were humping the bed so much, puppy.” He snickers when this gets a mortified whine out of Steve. He tries to close his legs, but Bucky’s foot hooked over his shin prevents it. “Ah ah. Shhh. No need for that, pup. It was real pretty, I promise. I love watching you have wet dreams.” When he says the words ‘wet dreams’, he presses against the soft tip of the cage, dipping inside the hole with the edge of his thumb.

Steve’s breath hitches as it touches his slit. “Oh …”

“Mm. And it was a wet dream, wasn’t it?” Bucky draws his thumb away, a glistening thread of precum connecting it to the cage. “Lookit you. You’re leaking, honey.”

“Bucky.”

He lets go, sliding his hand up to rub over Steve’s pubic bone, just above where he knows he really wants it. His hips jump and shudder, a sad noise escaping him at the loss of the touch on his caged dick. “So,” Bucky says, amused. “You’re dreaming about fucking your Sir’s pussy. That’s an interesting one, especially since we both know you haven’t wormed that bitty clitty into a pussy in so long. Are you sure it even remembers how?”

“Oh.” Steve’s obvious embarrassment makes him beautiful. The pink flush that began on his face is now creeping steadily down his neck. Soon it’ll be to his shoulders, then his chest, and Bucky loves when Steve gives him a full-tit blush.

He trails his fingers lazily over the space between Steve’s belly button and his cock, watching the way all the fine muscles in his lower belly quiver as he tries to hold still. Inside the cage, his cock gives a noticeable twitch. “You’re real worked up this morning, huh?”

“S-sir,” Steve agrees, nodding, wetting his lips and glancing at Bucky’s face hopefully. “Please. Please.”

Bucky chuckles. He loves to see Steve so frustrated, and deep down, Steve loves to feel that way. It’s one of the best ways to help him go down. He’s on his way now. The lack of language is one hint, but if Bucky needed another, it’s right there on his face. One good look in his eyes, and Bucky knows they’re getting close. All that blue, thinned down to nothing but slivers, pupils eating up his irises as his brain prepares for the dump. He just needs more of a push.

Bucky turns further into him, giving him a bit more of his weight, more of his leg slotted between his thighs. Steve tries to hump him, but Bucky pulls back each time until Steve whimpers and the behavior stops. “Shhh,” he soothes, dipping down to kiss him. He’s soft but insistent, inviting himself inside and taking his own sweet time about it, really relishing the feel of their mouths slotted together, the press and play of their lips. And Steve’s like a goddamn stick of butter: melts at body temp, spreads like a dream.

“I wanna take you down, sweetheart,” Bucky tells him quietly. “That sound good to you?” Steve gives a dumb little ‘uh huh’ of a moan, nodding eagerly. Bucky smiles and nips his lip. “Hey now, I might keep you there for a while, maybe all afternoon.” He’s not asking so much as informing, but he knows that Steve is capable of speaking up for himself when needed—even when he’s on the precipice of losing his few remaining brain cells like he’s about to do right now.

Today is Steve’s first day off in almost fourteen, and even though Bucky has opinions on that, he’s still gonna grab some iota of consent, because he doesn’t want to hear his sub bitching about a wasted Sunday six hours down the line. “Not gonna make you do anything but feel,” he promises softly, brushing their lips together. “Alright sweetheart? Does that sound like fun?”

Steve exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes Sir.”

“Ooh, ‘Sir’. Somebody’s tryin’ to start the day out in my good graces.”

“Mmyeah.”

Bucky chuckles and goes back to kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. He pinches and rolls them, one and then the other, until they’re drawn into tight, sensitive peaks. “Do you need to cum, Stevie?” He hears Steve’s heavy swallow pass through his throat and feels him nodding his head.

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you must be aching by now. This big ol’ body of yours. It just needs to cum all the time, doesn’t it?”

Steve whimpers and nods again, sighing out a shaky little ‘yeah’ that Bucky absolutely loves.

He loves everything about Steve, of course, but there’s just something so special about how he gets when he’s been denied for a while. He gets so desperate for it, so helpless in his need for physical release. Ultra-focused and yet dumbed down by it at the very same time. There’s nothing in the world like a six. Someone who actually needs what Bucky has to give. At this point, he’s quite sure that Steve’s ruined him for anyone else in the future.

That doesn’t exactly matter though, because—unbeknownst to Steve—Bucky’s got about sixty thousand dollars worth of forever hiding in the back of his watch drawer, just waiting for the right time.

He hovers over Steve and gives him a kiss, slow and coaxing, licking at the seam of his lips to get into the heat of him. Steve lets him in, of course, and Bucky curls his fingers into the give of his waist in an approving squeeze. He pulls back and looks down. Steve’s dazed, blue eyes blink upwards, his lips still parted, a flush high up on his cheeks. He looks made of sunlight, so precious. Bucky smiles softly. “Alright, Angel. How many days has it been?”

“... Since?” Steve keys into his tone of voice and perks up. He starts to look hopeful, and when Bucky waggles his eyebrows at him, he exhales in a rush, a smile breaking out over his face. “Twelve,” he says. “Fuck, thank you. Twelve!”

Bucky snickers and rolls over to grab the key from its spot on the bedside table. When he comes back, he sits between Steve’s spread legs and pulls him down in the bed, until his thighs are draped over Bucky’s knees and his ass is all but in his lap. He unlocks the cage and removes it gently, setting the pieces aside. Steve’s dick is already reacting, soft but thickened, the head fattening up underneath the foreskin.

Bucky pushes it up against his belly, thumb dipping down to trace along the seam of his heavy balls. “Look at these puppies,” he murmurs. “So full. Are they full, baby?”

The muscles in Steve’s thighs keep flexing as he fights not to squirm. “Y-yeah.”

“Mmm.” Bucky holds one testicle between his fingers and rolls it, massaging gently and teasing, “More balls than cock on you—ain’t that just perfectly fitting for a stubborn little hothead like you?”

“Buck,”

“Tell me how they feel,” he purrs, his Command laced through the words just enough to help Steve sink a little more.

“Th-they feel … heavy,” Steve whispers. “Hot n’ … n’ tight.”

“I’ll bet. Twelve whole days since you’ve busted a nut.” Steve whimpers and Bucky tickles the plump stretch of skin behind his balls. “And how long since I really wrang out your prostate good and proper?”

“Oh. Uh, um …” his throat bobs and his eyes slip shut as Bucky pets him. “Uhm … m-maybe three?”

“Three weeks.” Bucky whistles lowly and cups his taint. “No wonder you look swollen back here, boy.”

He can’t deny that he isn’t a complete letch of an old man, because he loves to see Steve blush (or in this case, blush harder) at being called “boy”—as if Bucky’s a full fledged man and Steve is only halfway there. It’s a stretch, but there are things that’ve been further from the truth.

“Aand,” he angles his fingers in. “What about release?”

A little wrinkle of concentration appears between Steve’s eyebrows as he tries to generate useful thought in his brain. It’s adorable. “I … I don’t kno—oh!”

“Don’t know?” Bucky simpers. He’s curled his fingers in behind Steve’s balls, pressing to get at that vulnerable spot that can sometimes trigger his releases. It won’t right now. He hasn't sunk enough for it yet. “Don’t lie to your Dom, Sweetiepie. You’re really tryin’ to tell me you don’t remember the last time you went all soft n’ useless for me? The last time you went ass up n’ wet all over yourself?” He hushes Steve’s embarrassed keen, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “That’s okay, Stevie. I remember. I remember all of ‘em.”

Release isn’t something Bucky’d encountered in a partner before Steve. Not every sub has them, and it’s not something they can control. A rush of spasms and body fluids, dump of brain chemicals twice as strong as those brought on by typical subdrop. Such a deep response only really happens for sixes—Maybe some fives, if they’re with the right dom. It is … intensely private; something people tend to either fetishize, or else weirdly disdain.

Steve’s always been embarrassed of his, but that’s something Bucky’s been working to break him of. There is nothing more arousing, more primal, more flattering, than having a sub’s body signal submission in that way. Bucky had shot up to the freakin’ stratosphere of domspace the first time it’d happened, unused to the stimulus. He’d been useless for a bit, and it was just lucky that they’d been in a club at the time. The DM had stepped in and taken care of Steve until Bucky was capable again.

“It’s been just about five weeks since you gave me one,” he says, anticipating the distressed whimper that comes out of Steve. He rubs over his lower belly soothingly. “I know, I know. S’been too long, huh big guy? All that pressure building up. You know what the doctor said.”

“Buck,”

“But you’re always at work, Sweetheart. Hell, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. I barely have.”

“M’right here, jerk.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh, but there’s little heat to it, just the familiar griping of their relationship. He’s been on Steve for months to find a less demanding job. Steve doesn’t get paid enough and the people at his work take advantage of his good nature. (Bucky had figured out, very early on in their contract, that Steve was one of those subs who pushed themselves too hard in their professional endeavors, and then needed to have the resultant stress dommed out of them.)

Bucky grumps, “You don’t listen to your Sir when he tells you to set boundaries, to clock out on time, to come home.” He plays idly with Steve’s cock and balls as he scolds him, pinching lightly here and there. “How am I s’posed to take care of you proper?”

“Mmn … n-not my fault,” Steve slurs. His eyes are closed and the curl of his mouth looks none too chastised. “S’still work. Somebody’s gotta help the patients, n’ I still gotta—”

Bucky flicks his balls. “It’s still bratting. Don’t think I don’t see right through you, Rogers. Like you don’t have twenty coworkers who could pick up that slack if you refused to.Excuses.”

Steve’s insistence on doing the right thing has always been his own little way of shirking authority, of misbehaving until it gets him what he really needs: someone to step up and put him in his place. Bucky has—exasperatedly but enthusiastically—been filling that role for the past eighteen months. He knows Steve’s needs like he knows his own, and he knows his body almost better than his own.

That’s why he’s let him out of the cage and why he’s all but got Steve’s ass in his lap right now. It’s not so much that Steve needs an orgasm, but that he needs to be dropped good and thorough, a milking, maybe even a full release, if Bucky can manage to work one out of him. Steve’s body doesn’t like to give those up, and it’s less predictable.

“I miss you, honey,” Bucky coos at him. Other than some shallow bossing around at bedtime, he hasn’t had any opportunity to care for his boy these past few weeks (and seriously: fuck the underfunded and stretched thin structure of the V.A.). “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says quietly, squeezing Steve’s inner thigh muscles deeply. “You listening?”

“Yes Sir,” Steve whispers.

“I’m gonna touch you, play with you a bit. Make you feel good.”

“Cum?” Steve asks hopefully, and Bucky snickers.

“Edge,” he says, giving Steve another pinch when he wiggles and whines. “Hush, now. I told you: I want to play with you for a while. I’m gonna get you so worked up, baby.”

“Hurts,” Steve whimpers, moping over it. “Bucky.”

“Shh.” Bucky tickles his sac. “Yeah, it’ll ache, but I’ll drop you so good that you won’t even be in your body to feel it, after a while.” Though there’s a great deal of intersection, the things that bring the best sexual climaxes aren’t always the same as the things that bring the best sexual submissions. Bucky watches as a pleased shiver runs through Steve’s body at the promise of a good drop. They both know which of the two is more important for someone like Steve. On the bed in front of him, Steve visibly starts to relax a little more. Bucky smiles and massages his thighs. “Mmhm, that’s it. It’s been hard for you lately, hasn’t it?”

“Mmm. Buck. Yeah. … Been so—mmm—so stressed.”

Bucky coos and rubs up along either side of his pelvis, digging his thumbs in at the crease of his groin. “You gonna try and go down easy for me this time?”

“Please,” Steve whimpers sadly. “Buck, I do. I’m … I want to.”

“Shh sh sh. I know, honey. I know you do. And you know you’re my good boy. Always.”

It’s often hard for Steve to get past the barrier of his natural stubbornness, to let himself go soft enough to shed that shallow, false dominance he wears around like a shield. It’s people like Steve that Bucky designed his clubs for: high level doms and subs who aren’t partnered and want to get their kicks met somewhere safe, sexy, and affordable.

Steve was assessed high needs in middle school, and while general designation is socially common knowledge after puberty, one’s level within that designation is not. One through six, or switch. Your doctor knows, your parents know, you tell your boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe a few close platonic friends—more people, if you’re typical. But people who are high needs don’t tend to go around bragging about it. Bucky knows firsthand the awkwardness of having to explain to someone new that you fall on the far end of the spectrum, just like he knows that he’s one of only a few people with whom Steve has ever entrusted his status as a six.

Bucky pets his skin and feeds him quiet rumbles and purrs, compliments and directions, calling him beautiful and giving him easily obtainable goals, most of them simple orders to hold still in one way or another. “Keep your eyes closed,” he murmurs. “Just focus on me touching you. Isn’t that nice? Yeah Sweetheart, I know, I know.”

Steve is a gorgeous human being who tends to turn heads wherever he goes. He’s young (27) and beautiful, and if Bucky weren’t so confident in his own masculinity at his advancing age (41), he might actually be in danger of developing a complex. Because Steve is the one whom most people notice first when the two of them walk into a room together. His size draws the eye and his features keep the interest, with his Botticelli face and the type of body that few people are willing to work hard enough for. He really does look cut from marble, muscular and strong and textbook attractive. Steve’s is a beauty that pretty much smacks you in the face. And the absolute sweetest part of it all, is that he really doesn’t seem to be aware of it. A big, sweet, dumb blond.

Now how was Bucky ever supposed to not eat a boy like that up?

And then there’s the pièce de résistance: the fact that between his legs, Steve is small. Not tragically so, but compared to the rest of him it’s a striking difference. He’s got this surprisingly little dick nestled between his beefy thighs, hooded and delicate, propped against the generous pillow of his balls. Whenever Bucky sees his gorgeous juxtaposition of a body all laid out on a bed like this, he can’t help but feel like the man was made just for him.

Especially that sweet little cock.

He groans under his breath as he touches it, letting his fingertips drag over the soft skin. “Spread those legs a little wider for me, doll.”

Steve complies, hips flexing and scooching his butt down the bed another inch.

Under Bucky’s scrutiny and his glancing touches, Steve’s little dick twitches and jerks with interest. “Heere it comes,” Bucky murmurs, taking it between his fingers and stroking at the tip, working the little wrinkle of foreskin where it still covers the head. He dips his thumb inside and swirls it around, circling the tip of the glans. It’s all slick and gliding from the precum he’s already giving up, and Bucky rumbles, pleased. “Well lookit that. You always wet up so easy for me, dontcha baby?”

“Fuhh-ck,” Steve slurs. “Buckee.”

He’s been going down easier with each day that Bucky continues to deny him, the surrender of giving up his sexual pleasure turning him into the kind of soft and pliant sub that Bucky’s always known he could be. It just takes a little extra coaxing for Steve, a little extra time, his big body and stubborn brain fighting the process harder (and needing it more) than most people Bucky’s dated in the past. Being with Steve has, without doubt, made Bucky a better dom.

Steve’s prick slowly thickens in Bucky’s hand, even though Bucky’s barely touching him. “Well look at you, big guy,” he purrs. “Fattening up real nice for me, aren’t you?”

Steve whines and squirms in pleasure, and Bucky teases him a little more with his words and his hands, telling him how pretty his little dick is, how cute. Bucky loves humiliating Steve over his size—both his “big dumb body” and his “pretty little prick.” Of course, it’s always that special brand of sweet and tender humiliation that they have between them, anything rougher than that being outside of Steve’s limits. Bucky’s boy is so sensitive, needs to be handled so gently. Gently, but firmly. And even with all the teasing, Bucky’s always gone to great lengths to make sure Steve knows what an absolute dream he is.

“Thought I told you to close your eyes,” he chides, when he looks up and sees Steve peeking at him. Steve makes a cute little squeak of a sound and his eyes slip shut, and Bucky smiles. “Thatta boy.” He starts to stroke him off lightly, only using his two fingers and thumb to work the foreskin in a gentle motion. Steve inhales deeply and his cock fills out the rest of the way. “There you go,” Bucky murmurs. Completely hard like this, Steve’s a little more than half Bucky’s size. “So pretty, honey.”

Underneath his boxers, Bucky’s own dick is chubbed up and eager for more, but he ignores it. He’s got plans for himself later. Smoothing his metal hand over Steve’s belly, he jerks him off slowly but steadily, until the foreskin is drawn down and the shiny pink head of him peeks through on each stroke, precum getting on Bucky’s fingers and making everything nice and wet. “Tell me when you’re close,” he whispers, and a few minutes later Steve’s whispering back,

“Close—oh,”

“Shhh.” Bucky lets go of his dick and rubs his inner thighs to get him to calm down, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple and the shine of those lips that he’s licked and bitten pink. His blond hair is all rumpled from sleep and his skin is golden in the stream of morning sunlight coming through the bedroom windows. He’s so incredibly, painfully beautiful; looks like a flipping Greek god, an Adonic youth, a spoil of war. Steve arouses in Bucky every instinct he’s ever had to take and dominate and own. Sometimes he really wonders what an old asshole like him did to earn such a perfect boy.

“Love you, Stevie,” he murmurs, going back to stroking him. “Being so good. Remember, you just tell me when. That’s your only job right now. That’s all you have to do. Don’t gotta think or worry about aanything else.” Steve seems to melt into the bedcovers at hearing this, which is, of course, the entire point. Bucky knows exactly how to talk to his boy to bring him down into the absolute best headspace. “Good,” he praises lowly. “So good for your Dom, sweetheart. So sweet to let me play with this little cock however I want.”

The second peak comes quickly, and even Steve seems surprised by it when he manages to choke out a quiet little “... close,” after only a few seconds.

He lasts a little bit longer on the third. Bucky keeps his grip very light and gets a few full minutes of stroking in before Steve’s breathing picks up and he gasps out another “close!”

Bucky lets go, humming his approval for Steve to hear and rubbing the crest of his groin on either side, all over his waxed-smooth pubic mound and the place where his thighs meet his body. “Suuch a good boy.” He watches Steve recover, face pinked after the difficulty of that third edge, the swell of his chest rising and falling as he regains his breath.

And fuck, those tits. They’re big and beefy, heaving and flushed and just barely starting to shine from perspiration. Bucky can’t keep himself from touching, leaning forward to grope each thick pec, and then pinch and pluck at his nipples. He’s so swollen and puffy there, looks like he just came from benching two-fifty at the gym. Bucky lets his nails drag down the right side as he pulls back. “You’re doing beautifully,” he praises, even though they’ve barely started the edging. It isn’t uncommon for Bucky to bring Steve close and back him off from orgasm dozens of times in one session. He doesn’t plan to keep this going too much longer, though. He just wants to get him to cry a little before they get up to start their day.

He starts stroking again, still using those same, easy touches; gentle and gliding. When Steve utters his next, “close,” Bucky stops stroking but doesn’t remove his hand, letting Steve’s cock rest, wet and throbbing, inside the loose curl of his fist. He tuts and fondles him while they wait. “Ooh, honey. I could feel that one.” He gently traces the vein on the underside, up to the frenulum and his drawn down foreskin. He eases it back up over the head, and even hard like this, it almost covers him. Bucky thumbs over it, smearing the next blurt of precum around. “So pretty,” he murmurs.

“Please, Sir.” Steve’s voice sticks a little bit in his mouth, like he needs a drink of water, and he licks his lips before he says again, “Please, lemme cum.”

Bucky hums as if he’s actually considering it (he isn’t). “Maybe,” he purrs. He lets go of his cock and strokes his balls instead, one hand holding the full weight of his sac while the other feathers light touches over the delicate skin. Steve’s got big, tight balls that always look plump and pulled up close to his body, but especially so when he’s been deprived of an orgasm for a few days. And right now, they’re coming up on twelve days. “Just think,” Bucky murmurs, “think of all the cum that’s backed up in here right now. Cause you cum a lot, Stevie, don’t you?”

Steve whimpers and gives a sad little nod.

Bucky grins and makes a mocking sound of pity. “Yeah, poor baby. They must be sore, huh? So full, so hot and tight. Are they, Honey? All hot n’ tight?”

“Please, yes, please.”

“Just aching to get some release.” He circles lazily around the shape of his balls underneath the skin, one side and then the other. “And you want to cum so bad. I don’t blame you.” He titters and lets go of his sac, because that’s a major erogenous zone for Steve, and Bucky knows he can’t handle having his dick stroked and his balls played with at the same time without going off. “It’s not healthy,” he teases, mock sympathy in his voice as he starts gently stroking him off again. “A boy your age not not gettin’ a good nut out on the regular. If not a couple times a day, then at least once every other day.” Steve whimpers and Bucky grins evilly and pretends to forget. “How many days has it been, again?”

“Twuh–twelve, ssir,”

Bucky sucks his teeth sympathetically. “Oh, that’s right. Twelve. Hmm.” Abruptly, he starts to jerk him off a little harder than he has been doing, giving him more pressure, rubbing at the underside of the head on each upstroke. Steve’s breathing hitches and he tenses up like he thinks this is going to be it: he’s finally going to get to come.

Bucky slows back down to almost nothing, grip loose once again, and Steve makes a sound like a dying cat. Bucky, who lives for getting sounds like that out of Steve, all but purrs in pleasure, feeling high. “I want you to know,” he says, slowly and delicately, making the words into hushed, sweet and deadly things, “that I’m not gonna let you cum this morning.”

He soaks up the devastated little shudder that travels throughout Steve’s body as he processes that, the way his brow gets a disbelieving little pinch in it and then smoothes out with dawning realization that Bucky means what he says. The fight his body wages with his mind to accept it. “Nngh,” he whimpers pitifully. “Puh–please.”

“No, baby.”

“Please, please. Please …” He’s not really begging, is the thing. He tosses his head and fists the sheets, repeating the ‘please’ several times over, helpless and mournful. It’s his way of surrendering to it, his way of accepting what his dominant wants for him, what his dominant is doing to him. The second that Steve accepts that he’s feeling so good and that he’s not going to be given the relief he wants, that Bucky is going to be the one to decide, is the second he really, visibly tips into subspace. “Ohhgn …”

Bucky’s cock throbs angrily as he watches it happen. One second Steve is tense, and the next second he’s just … not. Goosebumps pop up all along his arms and legs, his body going unnaturally still for a few seconds, before it shivers loose into a pile of molten Steve on the bed. Bucky leans forward to cup his cheek, smiling when Steve presses his face into it. “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs fondly. “Juust like that.”

Steve sobs—just once, just a tiny hitch in his breath—and tears well up at the corners of his eyes. One of them breaks and rolls down and hits Bucky’s metal finger, and that’s about the exact moment when Bucky hits domspace.

People say you shouldn’t compare domspace to doing drugs, but Bucky’s done some drugs, and he knows it is exactly like being high. The best high you ever had, but sexual, and focused. Bucky feels charged and euphoric, completely zeroed into his sub and his reactions. He thumbs away Steve’s tears and gets his flesh hand back on his dick, feeling elated. “Okay sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me when you’re ready for another.”

Steve whimpers, and they get back to it.

Steve is a useless mess by the time ten rolls around, and after number fifteen Bucky starts to worry that Steve won’t remember to verbalize when he’s close. Not because he’s trying to disobey, but because he’s just so far under. Wanting to end things on a good note, Bucky stops edging him after they narrowly avert crisis at sixteen, Steve’s face red and covered in tears, his body shaking while he cries. Bucky lies out on top of him and kisses him all over his face and neck and shoulders until he’s calmed down some.

Steve is still in his head, very dumb and pliant and happy, even once his cock goes soft. Bucky, buzzing with his own high, proceeds to take care of his boy in all the other ways that also matter. He feeds Steve water and a piece of chocolate straight from his tongue, puts him in the shower and washes him. He bends him over the bed and lubes him up and plugs him with the big, squishy day plug.

He has Steve lie on his back with his head out over the edge of the mattress and softly feeds him his cock. "Take it ... there you go ... jus' like that, oh ... good boy." Steve's gag reflex, normally just as stubborn as the rest of him, always goes dormant when he's down; his mind turning into soft, sticky molasses, and his body following suit. He goes lax and soft, easily accepting Bucky's thick cockhead past his parted lips, over his tongue and soft palate. His throat even feels relaxed when Bucky presses all the way in, his balls smushing against Steve's face and his hand gently massaging the front of his neck. "Takin' me so good, doll," Bucky praises, and he softly fucks his face in measured thrusts until he feels his orgasm coalesce at the base of his spine, down into his balls, pulling up into his core, electric and hot. "Oh yeah," he groans quietly, sighing as he comes down his boy's throat. Steve takes it like a champ, and Bucky pulls out and holds his jaw shut, petting him soothingly. “Shhh. Swallow it now, baby. Lemme see that throat working.”

Steve does. Bucky collapses onto the bed next to him and lies there, toying with Steve’s tight and full balls until he feels himself come back down a bit from domspace. “How you doing, babe?” he says from down by Steve’s shins.

“Mmm.”

“Still down?”

“Hhhn.”

Bucky chuckles and pats the top of Steve’s thigh. “Okay big guy. Okay.” He heaves himself up to go and find some sweats to throw on. They've got a nice, long, relaxing day ahead of them, and he's really looking forward to it.

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in my Kofi🍵 cup. It's a big part of what allows me to take time to write. Thanks!

#stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #D/s #dom/sub #my fics #d/s au #d/s relationship #dom bucky barnes #sub steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #mcu #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes

[sholiofic]

Whumptober day 4 (Biggles)

No idea how many of these I'll do this year or what fandoms I'll do this for, but this one spoke to me.

Day 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.” Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

CW for torture. Biggles, post-canon.

***

"Are you alone?" The voice was rough, harsh, brutal, repeating questions already asked dozens of times under the too-bright lights in the concrete-walled room.

"I always work alone," Erich said.

He flinched away from the cramping burn of the electric prod in the interrogator's grasp. But Erich's hands were bound, and the man knew his business, thrusting it into the most delicate places, in this case the sensitive junction of neck and shoulder. The contact sent fluttering, twisting cramps all down his arm. It had been merely unpleasant at first; now it was desperately painful in muscles sensitized by abuse and dehydration.

"Why are you here?" the pitiless voice went on.

"To steal papers," Erich said for the fifth or tenth or fiftieth time. The questions had been repeated, over and over for hours, while he grew desperately thirsty and his entire body cramped and burned. He still ached from the early beatings, but those had given over to electrical torture when his interrogators found that he had fewer defenses against it.

"What papers? Why?"

Time slipped, growing hazy, and for a terrible moment he didn't know who was asking the question or what the answer was. Purpose firmed up then, renewed by a faint and distant, but distinct sound. He got the right answer at last. "The Englanders are blackmailing me into working for them. If I return the papers by the deadline, they will give me some freedom before the next job."

"And where are these papers?"

Erich raised his gaze to meet his interrogator's cold eyes. "I didn't have a chance to retrieve them, so your guess is as good as mine." He smiled a little. "Your associates are stupid and clumsy. Before I could—"

His interrogator rammed the business end of the prod into Erich's stomach. His muscles writhed and cramped, and he doubled over, retching, though he had nothing in his stomach to lose. Compounding the misery, his arms were wrenched violently at the shoulders as he jerked involuntarily against his restraints; then a hard blow to his kidneys stilled him and left him dangling from his bonds, breathing hard.

While he was still recovering from that, there were shouts outside in the hallway, the slam of a distant door.

"What is that?" his interrogator demanded. Erich didn't answer, merely gazed at the floor and felt the cuts at corner of his mouth tug in a genuine smile. He'd heard the aeroplane; they hadn't. They didn't have a lifetime's practice at listening for it, he supposed.

So he wasn't surprised when the door rebounded off the wall with a terrific crash. Erich decided to stay where he was. There was more shouting, a few gunshots, and then strong yet gentle hands were cutting him free, supporting him, touching him in a brisk and businesslike way that was nevertheless meticulously careful with his hurt places.

"We were delayed," Bigglesworth said. His voice was matter of fact, even as his hand ran lightly down Erich's flank and jerked away swiftly, dancing over the hipbone at Erich's sharp intake of breath. "Bit of rough business, we'll talk about it later—no one's seriously hurt, Algy's keeping the engines warm for us out there, and we've medical supplies on board."

"The papers," Erich gasped.

"Don't talk." Bigglesworth looped Erich's arm over his shoulders, and Erich leaned on him, recharging his own depleted reserves from the wiry strength in Bigglesworth's body. "It doesn't matter. I know you would have—"

"Inside pocket," Erich got out. He leaned into Bigglesworth's shoulder, shivering now—foolish, he knew that it was all over, but he couldn't stop, his teeth chattering. "Hidden—they didn't find it. Too busy shouting at me to search me properly. Sloppy."

Bigglesworth's hand moved lightly past the bruises to touch him with care, feeling the light crinkle of the papers hidden in his jacket. "Oh, you're good," he breathed, and Erich leaned a little more weight on him, stumbling with each step as his muscles fluttered but, at this point, his discomfort mattered little. The entire time he had been in that room, he had known that Bigglesworth would come for him. The cramping and pain was nothing beside that.

#biggles series #biggles books #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #erich von stalhein #james bigglesworth

[dumplingsjinson]

Incoming rant because I think I'm overthinking things but I also feel like I'm not; I'm just overall upset and anxious and feeling so embarrassed for myself for being like this.

So cat guy is dry as fuck with his texts after the second date. Like... he doesn't message me as much anymore. He does initiate conversations but it's like, when I reply, he either emoji reacts to it or leaves me on read. He doesn't use as many emojis in his texts as much anymore, either. He used to send random reels and posts but now he rarely does that. I mean, he did send one at like 4am this morning so that's sweet, but would he have sent anything if I didn't initiate the conversation somehow? To be fair, he did send me a message like two hours prior to him sending that post, which was a response to a message I sent. So he kinda like... Did a double text lol. (This is me reading into things, and that's how I try to make myself feel better but it rarely works.)

And I just feel like things are off, y'know?

But I also feel like I'm overthinking things.

I'm reading into things too much now that I actually like him (apparently that's what I do when I like someone. I think I have attachment issues which I absolutely hate. I hate being like this. I hate being overly anxious and an over thinker. I hate being that annoying ass bitch who needs reassurance). I'm wondering if he even actually wants to see me again even though he did say he hopes to see me again soon after the second date, because maybe he's changed his mind. I keep looking back at past messages to see what's changed. I scroll back to the message he sent after the first date and compare it to the message he sent after the second date and am like... Hm. Different wording. Is this a sign of disinterest? Is he lying? Maybe he's lying. Maybe he doesn't want to see me again, but is only doing this to be polite.

I keep wondering if maybe I did something to make him lose interest (I'm assuming he has based purely off of his texts and shit). Is it something I said? Am I at fault here?

I keep obsessing over the little details, whereas I used to not. I keep re-reading old messages to see what's changed. And it just sucks ass if he has lost interest because this is literally a story of "He liked her first, she ended up liking him back, and now he's lost interest".

Granted, he does have work and university but even back then when he was busy, he'd like... Message me in between.

But then again, I can't just act like he's the only one at fault here (maybe he isn't even at fault and it's all in my head). I also feel like I should start to initiate things more. Maybe I'm showing signs of disinterest by delaying my response time whenever he messages me (my brain works in weird ways. Like, when I like someone, I feel like responding right away is gonna scare them off, because I don't wanna be clingy or needy or whatever which is really, really stupid, but I can't help it), and not messaging him first. Maybe he thinks, "Oh God, maybe she's not interested in me?"

Maybe my own messaging pattern has changed and he senses that, because I can tell you I was quicker with responses back then myself.

Maybe I'm the one who needs to do better (I know I should do better, honestly), so I'm thinking of asking him out on the picnic date we talked about; see if he's still up for it and gauge his interest that way. Am I worried about being rejected? Yeah, because damn, I like him, so that's gonna sting more if he isn't really interested anymore. We'll see if I'm actually gonna do that, knowing how much of a coward I am. This bitch can kiss someone but can't ask someone out lmfao.

I've just been moping about it for the past few days and spiralling about it and that's why I hate liking someone because this is what my overanxious brain decides to do whenever I like someone: overthink.

And like - I need to do something about it, and if it means I get the closure/answer I need then so be it.

Maybe these seven months of trying to find someone has taken its toll on me and if this falls through then I'll just... You know. Fucking sit back and stop finding someone and maybe hope for a meet cute in real life because I'm sick and tired of this shit. (I probably won't, I'm still holding out hope at this point.)

Maybe I'm just burnt the fuck out, you know?

I get over someone (who I've liked for seven fucking months, but they turn out to be a complete red flag) by liking someone else, but at what cost? My emotional well being, that's what.

My emotions are all over the place, my monthly visitor is here so maybe that's fucking me up even more, and I just want someone to hold so I can cry into their shirt or something because I'm SO DONE.

I just want someone to call mine but apparently that's a very hard ask, and seeing people holding hands and being cute on the streets... Like damn bitch, I want that too. And it feels like I'll never get that.

And also, most importantly, I also need to invest in a therapist because God knows I need one after everything.

#long post #love life rambles #rant #personal #vent #cat guy chronicles

[ultimatepokemontournament]

what if you paused the polls, and as a fun lil intermission type thing, had a little propaganda event? like invite people to make posters and buttons and stuff!

I think this could be interesting! Thank you for the idea! I know the main issue with propaganda is people don't like the spam, but I think I have a solution that could work—basically people can submit propaganda and then probably up to two of those images can be added to the bottoms of their respective poll posts.

I've done the math, and I'm basically going to need a 5-day gap to get Gen 9 going (if current results hold, we will need one rematch), which means that if we want to post one Gen a day all in a row, we'd resume posting on May 14.

Of course this wouldn't solve the poll gap problem but I have another Pokemon tournament in my back pocket that I was planning to introduce later on, but that I can have up and running by tomorrow!

I don't have any strong opinions on how to proceed so I'm interested to see what you all think! Please reply to this post or vote on this poll:

IMPORTANT: Interspersing gap days will result in future interspersed gap days, effectively rippling out. An initial 5-day gap will not have this.

(Also if you did not read the above response, propaganda submissions WILL NOT result in additional posting, except for maybe answering questions.)

(Also sorry for the late-ish response to this! Unfortunately I've been so busy for the past few days I've hardly had time to do more than schedule the reblogs.)

#inquiries #announcements #this is one day on purpose! i'll decide on how to proceed in leas than 12 hours

[coreychick]

Chapter 22: Kaleidoscope

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you.

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With Keyorin behind you, you were anxious to head straight to Tython- the planet indicated on Halo’s map. Maker knows, you weren’t in a rush to separate from Din, but there was a surprising desire to get “it” over with- whatever “it” may be. Whether it was finding Jedi that could potentially help you or answer questions that were plaguing your brain, or finding that there were no answers to be had, and you would continue with Din on whatever path that might be. It was not knowing exactly what was waiting there, that was stressing you out. 

Din on the other hand, seemed to be in no rush whatsoever. He had plotted out a course that seemed to go farther out of the way than necessary. He said he had wanted to avoid the most direct route, the Axis, which served as a high frequency trade route on the edge of the slice. “Too many eyes and ears…the kind you don’t want following you.”

But avoiding the well-traveled hyper-route, meant having to make an unplanned stop for fuel and supplies. After that, he found an unfrequented planet to lay low on for a few days. Sarka was a lush basin, prominent with jungles and low mountains. The Sarkans were a sentient, reptilian species that maintained a unique relationship with the galaxy, by holding a monopoly on mining rare gems found on the planet. They were successful where other species had failed, because their society thrived, living in the vast underground caverns for long periods of time. Incidentally, that worked out great for you and Mando, because there was very little population on the surface. That and the fact that Sarka had a breathable atmosphere for humans, meant it was a good place to recoup for a few days. 

Mando said he also wanted you to get some more blaster practice in, before heading into unknown territory. Although you did spend several hours a day practicing, a tiny feeling prickled at your senses, wondering if he was having his doubts or changing his mind about Tython, and if this might be a delay tactic. Either way, you were grateful for a brief reprieve. The Maker seemed inclined to doll out small rations of mercy -brief tastes of peace and heaven- in between the life-threatening and emotionally devastating moments he preferred. After Keyorin, your emotions were a jumble. Everything you’ve done, every decision you’ve made over the past year has been with one goal in mind- finding Halo. Now that he was gone, you were going to have to figure out where your place was, in this vast galaxy.  

During practice sessions, Mando was all business. Despite a number of attempts on your part to distract him with subtle flirting that eventually bordered on blatant sexual suggestion, he insisted that you get in as much practice as possible, even turning you away, by the shoulders, forcing you to reface your target and fire. When the sun finally set at the end of the day, and the lack of light made it impossible to shoot any longer, he’d finally relented and let you retire for the night. 

When you weren’t practicing with a blaster, he was teaching you how to use a blade. 

“What happened to the knife I gave you before?” He asks, handing you a new blade. If there was one thing Mando wasn’t short on, it was an arsenal. 

Thinking back on it, goosebumps wake across your skin. You absently rub your forearm. 

“Uhh. I had a minor run in with the devaronian.”

Immediately, Mando’s body goes stiff, his shoulders roll back, and his spine straightens to somehow add another inch or two to his already imposing height. 

“What happened?” His modulated voice sounds a note deeper than it had a moment ago.

“We were in tight quarters, and he had me backed into a corner, so I did what I could…I plunged the knife into his back…only…I lost my grip on it…when he threw me across the room.” 

Mando goes very cold and very still. 

“Your brother let this happen?”

“No!” you fire back defensively.  “He wasn’t even there. I think we were being tracked. Anyway, the dev showed up and when I refused to go with him, it got…ugly.”

Mando closes the gap between you, his closed fists flex open and closed as his helmet tilts down to look at you. 

From this close angle, you can see his throat muscles work behind the cover of the flight suit as he swallows before speaking. 

“Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, no.  “Halo found us, pulled him off me before it got that far. Those two fought until Halo pretty much separated the dev’s head from his body and turned him into a bigass shishkabob…. But not before getting Halo with a poisoned horn tip.” you say, voice cracking a little at the last part. 

“I should have been there, should have been with you.” Mando says regretfully. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that. You’re the one that’s been telling me not to let the ‘woulda’, ‘coulda’, shouldas’, hold me down.”

Mando remains silent, so you shift gears to get off the subject. 

“Just, show me how to use this thing, so it doesn’t happen again.”  

Mando leans over and grabs you by the wrist with his gloved hand. He makes a small adjustment to the way your fingers are gripping the handle and then flips the knife around and let's go. He unsheathes the blade he carries on his calf and takes a few steps back.

“Your instinct is to hold the knife like this.” He says, easily flipping his knife around to demonstrate how you were holding it a moment ago. 

“You want to raise your arm and arc your hand downward in a stabbing motion, like this.” 

The way he demonstrates it, happens to be exactly how you stabbed Vandaal in the back- minus the fact that you were hanging upside down at the time. 

“But that’s really only effective if you are taller than your aggressor, and nine point nine times out of ten, your attacker is going to be taller than you.” 

“What? Why do you assume that?” You say, sounding playfully offended.

“Have you ever seen a Jawa physically attack someone larger than them?” He quips back.

You thought about it for a second, but Mando continued his explanation before you can come to a conclusion. 

“It’s a natural instinct. Nobody wants to get into a physical fight with someone larger than them. Jawas, Ewoks, Ugnaughts….generally speaking, are going to use long range weapons. They want to keep as much space between them and the enemy as possible.” 

“You're comparing me to them? I am taller than a Jawa, you know.” you smart back.

“Even so, from this angle, you lose power. You don’t have enough force to bring the knife down hard and if they are able to block your strike, it puts your arm in a vulnerable position. You’ll likely be disarmed before landing a blow.”

You sigh, relenting that he makes a good point. 

“I want you to use what you have to your advantage.”

Mando easily flips his knife around so that his thumb is now closer to the knife guard. 

“Instead of arcing your arm down, I want you to make short-succession jabs.” He demonstrates the movement so quickly, you begin to doubt whether you can do this or not. 

Hesitantly, you try to mimic the same motion, though you know you're not as quick as he is. 

“Good.” he nods. “That’s good.”

“Okay. So, what do I aim for?”

“Depends on your enemy. Given time, you can learn the most vulnerable spots on any given species. Try to assess what those spots might be at the outset and you’ll be prepared if things go sideways.” 

“Are you telling me that the first thing you do whenever you meet someone new, is figure out where to stab them?”

There are a few seconds of silence and then Mando says, “Yes.” 

“Uh, wow. OKaaaay. Even with me?”

“Yes.”

No wonder you have trouble making friends, Mando. 

“And where would you stab me?” you ask, humor coloring your words.

He steps forward, again closing the space between you. Your knife is still poised in front of you, your knife-arm, level with your ribcage in a stance meant to intimidate. Completely unfazed, he walks straight into the blade tip, his chest plate pushing your arm backward. He tilts your chin up with his left hand while running the blade tip of his own knife gently across your neck. It’s not enough to draw blood or leave a mark, it’s just enough pressure that you can feel the cold tip against your skin. “Here.” 

He drags the tip down the center of your chest, between your breasts until it comes to a stop over your lower abdomen. “Here.” Your throat works hard as you noticeably swallow. He walks around you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and grips you around the neck, holding you in place. Maybe it’s sick. You have no idea why, but the thought of being so vulnerable in Mando’s grasp causes you to clench between your legs and your pulse quicken. Bringing his helmet close to your ear, he lowers his voice to a whisper as you feel the tip of his blade just over your kidney. “And here.”

You turn and face Mando, staring deep into the T of his visor. With your voice dropping all humor, you ask in a serious tone, “You wouldn’t stab me in the heart?” And yeah, the way you ask hints that you’re not just asking in the literal sense. 

He stares back for a few beats. 

“No, I wouldn’t stab you in the heart.” 

You sure about that? 

“Why not?” 

“For one, it would be a shame to mar these,” he says, gently pushing the flat of his blade against one breast. “ 

Your lip twitches as you work hard to fight the smile trying to surface. 

“But also,” he continues, taking a step backward again. “You want to try and avoid the rib cage. It’s hard to hit vital organs. You have to slide the blade between the ribs, and you risk getting hung up on bone, and losing your knife.” 

Okay, also eww. 

“Instead, aim for the soft parts. The jugular and neck, the belly, the lower back on either side and the groin.” 

“Fine, ok.” you say, listing off the parts back to him. 

“Go ahead and try again, show me.” he commands.

With the knife securely in hand, you make some sharp repetitive jabbing motions, near the aforementioned body parts, but a few inches in front of him. Thankfully, even if you were to slip, all of his vital areas seemed to be protected by beskar or thick padding. 

“Good, that’s really good. I want you to move in an upward motion though, enter the body diagonally.” 

“Gross. Ok. Are we done?” This really was not your idea of fun. 

“No. There’s one more place I want you to keep in mind.”

“Where’s that?”

“The lower forearms.” 

Mando makes a move with his right arm, grabbing you firmly as an enemy might. His large hand splays over the side of your neck and the crook of your shoulder. With his grip like this, he can pretty much force you into any position he wants- though if it were him, at this point, all he’d have to do is ask and you’d take any position he wanted you to. 

“If someone gets a hold of you like this, I want you to grab onto their forearm here.” 

Doing as he instructs, you place your left hand on top of his forearm. 

“With your knife hand, I want you to drive up from underneath, going as deep as you can. Use your left hand to pull down on his arm, that way you have as much leverage as possible getting the knife in. Don’t retract though….Instead I want you to use all of your strength to then pull the knife back toward you, through the flesh. You’ll likely slice through nerves and tendons. If you do that, he won’t be able to make a fist or hold onto you anymore. Understand?”

“Yes, I think so.” you nod. 

 “Good.” he says, releasing his grip. 

“These locations may vary from species to species, but everyone has a weakness if you look for it.” 

“Is that so?” you say, taking a step back to run your gaze over him from head to toe. 

He stands still, letting you do a full body exploration with your eyes, searching for the kink in his armor. Of course, not a single inch of skin is visible. His helmet, and beskar armor, would easily deflect any blade. He wears tall boots and gloves. Everything else is protected by a thick layer of padding provided by his flight suit. You wouldn’t be able to cut his throat, stab his gut, his back, or even his forearm- none of the places he described.  

“I can’t find it. Where’s your weakness?”

He waits a moment, and at first you wonder if he still might not trust you enough to share his vulnerable spot with you. 

But then he answers….”I’m looking at her.”

After three days of training from sunup to sundown, your muscles are wrecked. The blaster grows exponentially heavier with every passing hour, until your arms are shaking so hard, your accuracy is actually getting worse instead of better. Mando finally relents, ordering you to take a hot shower and turn in early. 

You’ll get no argument from me. 

“Yes, sir.” You say with a halfhearted mock salute, before retreating to the Crest. 

The hot water was bliss on your sore muscles. It had taken every ounce of reserve energy you had left in your body to wash your hair and soap down the rest of your body. Now you just stand, unmoving, letting the steady stream of the hottest water you can handle, pummel your aches away. 

Is it possible to fall asleep, standing in the shower? Because I just might.

So focused on the hot water, melting away your aches and your cares, you don’t hear the door open behind you. With eyes already closed, there’s nothing you need to do when you feel Din’s solid chest press up against your back. He runs his hands up and down your arms, pressing his thumbs into the knots in your muscles, brushing firm circles around them, until they relax. It hurts, but in a good way. Your head lolls back, resting against him, your arms going slack. You’re a cooked noodle- probably couldn’t lift the bar of soap again, if you needed to. 

“You’re a sadist. Everything hurts.” you grumble. 

“Everything?” 

“Yes, everything.”

“I can’t take the pain away, but I can distract you from it.” he says, sliding his palm around to dip between your legs. He’s hinting at what you’ve been begging for, for days.

You let out a breathy moan of pleasure at the feel of his thick fingers, sinking into your flesh.  

“Where’ve you been the past few days? Not sure I’d be much fun right now, I literally can’t move. Was thinking you might even have to roll me out of here.”

“What if I said you didn’t have to do a thing, except what you’re doing right now?”

“I don’t know….” your voice trails off, replaced by a soft whimper. Any semblance of coherent speech is lost when he starts sliding his thick fingers back out, using the arousal he’s gathered to paint slick circles around your clit. 

“You don’t have to do a damn thing, but keep standing here, making those noises for me.”

Your breathing begins to space out, the delicious friction he’s giving makes your whole body feel drunk, aches and pains demoted from pressing to afterthought. 

“I suppose I can manage just standing here….”

“Good girl.” he says, pulling his hand away. “Turn around for me.” He doesn’t bother telling you to close your eyes anymore. He simply trusts that you’ll do it.

His hand threads through your wet hair as he grips you behind the neck and pulls you in for a star- shattering kiss. Literally. His kiss so deep, his mouth so consuming, you swear you see a burst of stars behind your eyelids. You’re no longer breathing air, you’re breathing him. Every unspoken word between the both of you passes through his kiss. That’s it. It’s the kiss to end all kisses, and if you lived forever, you swear, nobody else in this galaxy could ever kiss you the way Din does. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, you're breathless and panting, unsure of what to do or say next. He makes the decision for you, when he drops down on his knees, pulling you forward by the hips. 

“Have to taste more of you…all of you.”

You let out another whimper as his mouth descends on you. 

“Good girl. Let me hear those pretty little noises you make.” 

You couldn’t be silent if you tried, not the way he was devouring your pussy like a starved man with a ripe peach. 

Your first orgasm hits hard and fast, with little to no pause before the second is already building toward summit. Din plunges his tongue as deep as it can go, holding you in place with his vise-like grip on your ass. Your legs begin to tremble, the fatigue from the day reminding you that it’s only forgotten- not gone. 

“I’m close, so close. Don’t stop Din…please.”

Spurred by hearing his name, Din increases his pressure and uses the tip of his nose to sweep over your sensitive clit. You come completely unhinged, coming hard on the man’s tongue. He groans deeply, drawing in every remnant of your orgasm. How the man was able to completely consume you without drowning in either the hot water sluicing down your body, or the sopping wetness between your legs, you’ll never know. 

At that thought, your legs shake harder, giving the muscles in your arms a run for their money. 

“Not sure…I can stand, much longer.” You say between ragged breaths as you slowly come back down. 

“Let go baby…I’ve got you.”

With no energy to argue, you trust his words. The second your legs stop fighting to hold you up, Din uses his already firm grip on your ass to lift you up. You throw your arms around his neck and cross your ankles over his ass, as he turns off the water and carries you to bed. 

You nuzzle into his neck, relishing the feel of his bare skin and the smell that is distinctly Din. His hard length it’s pressed tight between you, prodding your belly. Suddenly, you can think of nothing else, except how good it’s going to feel when his cock sinks into you, stretching you to the max, filling you until you can’t take any more. 

He answers back, with a low, gravelly voice. “I will never get enough of your taste.” 

His words heat you from the inside out, provoking a soft moan to escape.

He lays you down on the humble little pile of blankets you both have come to consider a bed and begins trailing hungry kisses down your neck and chest. He kneads your breasts, marveling at their softness as he burnishes his cheeks over them. The scruff of a week's worth of stubble tickles your skin, causing you to arch your back. He takes full advantage of the movement, salaciously sucking on each nipple. After giving each, it’s due attention, he trails his kisses lower, heading back down toward your waiting pussy. 

“Need more of it.” he says. 

The thought of him going down on you again makes you dizzy. Your body is already primed and wanting, ready to be filled. 

“No.” you say gently, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth hovers just over your heat, practically quivering as his breaths make contact against the wet flesh.

It’s hard to explain, but you don’t want to come again. Your body is so exhausted, you fear one more of Din’s star-shattering orgasms, might deliver you right into peaceful oblivion. Would it be worth it? Hell yes, it would. But you have little energy left, and what you do have, you want to save for him. You don’t need to come again, but you need to feel him inside you, need to make him come too- long for it. 

“It’s your turn to come…. I’d say you’ve well earned it.”

“I’m not finished with you yet.” 

“I don’t think I can come again, and besides, I’ve already come twice, that’s enough.” 

“Not for me, it isn’t.”

After another bone melting orgasm, you are practically begging Din to take you with his cock. You expect for him to take you hard and fast- or maybe that’s what you were hoping for based on how desperate you sound. Either way, he hears your desperate pleading and decides to take his tormenting a step further. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of his arm, spreading you wide as he slides his thick cock in, at a glacier-like pace. 

You cry out in rapture when he finally bottoms out and just stays there, buried as deep as he can possibly go. The pressure, the full sensation, the weight of his body over yours, the feeling of literally being so deeply connected, is beautiful torture.  

“Din….I need you.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll take care of you.”

I need to feel you move….. Need you to fill me with your cum. 

Again, you didn’t understand why you were having these thoughts. Your body has been well loved, three times over and yet, you know you won’t feel completely sated until he fills your core. This is completely new- something that you’ve always tried to avoid all together with previous lovers- Bonus points if they had been willing to pull out! So why now, did you want it so badly from him? To the point where it almost feels as vital as your next breath.  

Give me all of you. 

“Need you to move….need you to fuck me.”

“Good girl.” he says, nuzzling his nose along your chin. 

The pace he sets is agonizing in the most exquisite way. He slowly, yet intently slides in and out. You feel the slow burn, the stretch from his size, the impossible fullness, with every drawn out stroke. Time stands still in a way that makes you feel like you're dreaming. Unexpectedly and with absolutely no control, you start to cum again. He doesn’t increase his pace, doesn’t race you to the finish line. He maintains a slow torture so perfect, a hot tear slips down your cheek. It crashes over you in warm waves that stretch out, going on and on until you’re nothing more than a puddle. Your body is good for nothing else except this, and you may never be able to move again. 

Is it possible to die from orgasm? Because this has to be what heaven feels like. 

He never stops moving. He forces you to ride it out, weathering the moments of over sensitivity, walking a fine line between pain and bliss, until his mouth crashes into yours again. You breathe in your name, as it grates past his lips, and he finally gives you everything you need from him. 

You wake feeling more refreshed and rested than you can remember in recent history. You have no idea how long you slept, but you don’t remember waking even once, and that is a rare occurrence. The bed is soft and warm and if you wanted to, you could probably lay there for a few more hours. Regrettably though, Din is not in bed with you. The absence of his armor and the steady rumble of the Crest’s engines tell you that at some point, he had set out on the course for the final leg of the trip to Tython. 

You sit up with a satisfied purr, stretching your arms above your head and craning your back before heading to the fresher. Once dressed and all biological needs have been attended to, you head up to the cockpit. 

As expected, Din is back in full armor, stationed in the pilot’s seat. At the sound of the door opening, he swivels his chair around to face you. 

“Hey sleepy head, perfect timing. We’re just about an hour out from reaching Tython.”

“Tython? Really? Geeze, how long was I out?”

Day and night aren’t something easily measured when you’re traveling in outer space, but it had to have been awhile if you had slept through the last leg of the trip. Hell, you don’t even remember taking off, or falling asleep for that matter. 

“About eighteen hours, give or take.” 

“Eighteen!? Wow.”

PSA to anyone having trouble sleeping. Forget sleeping pills, teas and herbs. Just let Din Djarin slow-fuck you into a sex coma. Highly recommended for the best sleep of your life.

“Sorry…you should have woken me.” 

“You needed the rest.”

Your cheeks heat a little at the mention of needing rest, when you think about the many reasons why.

You stand next to Din’s chair, admiring the view of open space. In the distance, you can just make out a small greenish white orb. Tython?

“By the way,” you start- avoiding eye contact, “I uh, feel like I owe you an apology for last night.”

“I told you, it’s ok. You needed the rest.”

“No. Not about that. Well, I mean… yes about that too, but also because, well….I’m just not normally like that. I mean, I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t into it, or that I’m always so selfish because…I pretty much just laid there while you did everything, … like everything …And I guess I’m just trying to say, that I’m not normally a lousy lay…I mean, I’m not like the GOAT either….probably…but, I am good…and are you going to say anything? Because I feel like I’m just rambling here…I should just shut up…I just..”

Din startles you right out of your self-deprecating tirade, by grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his lap. He leans you back until his visor hovers over your face. His voice is low and steady with resolve. 

“You don’t have a single thing to apologize for.” Dear Maker, thank you for blessing this man with the sexiest bedroom voice I’ve ever heard.

You take a deep breath, imagining what his eyes might look like, because you know he’s staring straight into yours. 

Brown. I think they’re brown. Rich, like the soil on Sorgan, and dark, like the ocean on Keyorin.

“I just think the scales were tipped…in my favor this time…and that’s not….I mean…I want to take care of you too.”

He leans forward, gently resting the top of his helmet against your forehead.

“Woman, I don’t think you have the slightest clue what you do to me. The look on your face…the sweet sounds you make… Watching you feel pleasure and knowing that I’m the one that's giving it to you….seeing ner atin solus, come completely undone…. it’s its own end.``

Your stomach does a little flip flop, your heart skipping like stones. You swear to the maker that if he wasn’t masked up, you’d haul your lips to his and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. 

“When you look at me like that….” he groans, in that gravelly modulated tone,  “fuuuck, I can’t think straight.”

 He shifts your position in his lap to relieve some of the pressure from his now straining dick. You slide your hand down his chest, grasping the very prominent bulge at the front of his pants. 

“Maybe we can do something about that…balance the scales perhaps?” you say, emphasizing your point by cupping his balls. “I’m feeling very well rested now…thanks to you.”

He groans again and the satisfied rumble sends an electric jolt straight between your legs. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. 

“Mmmm. As much as I’d love that right now, I’m afraid we don't have the time. There’s one more thing I have to teach you, before we land on Tython.”

You’re disappointed to be sure. Nothing sounded better than returning the favor and showing Din the same attention he had lavished on you the night before, however, your curiosity peaks. 

“And what might that be?” 

“How to pilot this ship.”  

“There’s about three hundred switches here, but you’re going to teach me how to fly before we get to that planet over there?” you say, indicating the steadily growing planet in the distance.

Din lets out a small modulated huff, before turning you back around in his lap to face the console. 

“Not exactly. It’ll take a long time to learn what every button does, and even longer to understand the mechanics of why and how. Right now, I just want you to get a feel for handling the controls. After that, I’ll teach you the basic sequence for takeoff and landing.”

“Why now, of all times?” 

“Because…I’m not really sure what to expect down there. I don’t anticipate a fight…but, I am a sworn enemy, and I’ll be marching straight into their domain.” 

“You think they’ll be hostile?”

“I’m hoping we can just ring the buzzer, the shiny gates open, and you’re welcomed with open arms, but I have to plan for the worst.”

“The worst?”

“If for some reason, I am unable, I want you to be able to fly outta there on your own.” 

So that’s what all the last-minute training was for. As if I’d leave you there. 

“Shiny gates, huh?” you snicker.

“I don’t know what it will look like, but when I imagine a place where you belong, I imagine it has pretty gates.”

You laugh out loud.

“Really? Cause that’s not what I was picturing at all.”

“Yeah? How do you see it?”

“Well, a tall, sexy man with washboard abs, greets me in a miniscule loincloth that leaves little to the imagination.”

Din pinches your side, causing you to giggle and squirm in his lap.

“Try again.”

“Ok,“ you laugh. “How about… a quaint little village with dozens of younglings running around with pretend laser-swords, and there’s a wise old man with a long white beard. He takes me under his wing, and I steadily chip away at his grumpy exterior with my undeniable charm and wit, while learning the valuable life lessons of the Jedi? Oh! And there’s a sweet old lady who bakes the best spiced rolls in the galaxy, and she lives in a giant shoe?”

“Giant shoe? Why a giant shoe?

“I have no idea, but I swear, every fable they read to us in the orphanage had an old lady who lived in a shoe.” 

“What if it’s a grumpy old man, with a long white beard, in a loincloth, that leaves little to the imagination?” 

  You both start laughing, and Maker, you love seeing this rare side of Din. 

“Then you’re correct, I’m going to need to know how to beat feet outta there real quick, so I guess you better teach me how to fly.” 

After about thirty minutes, you have a decent handle on the steering controls and maneuverability. 

“That’s good. You’re a natural- you’ve got the basic control down.”

“That’s all well and good Mando, but what about takeoff and landing?”

Mando hits a bunch of random buttons and kills the engines. The Crest remains floating in the dead of space, ready for you to reignite life back into her rusty bones. 

“First, let’s focus on takeoff. The Crest can be primed and ready for flight in less than forty seconds. We don’t have time to go over the individual systems and what they do, but for now, all you need to know is the sequence of buttons to push. Once you’ve got that, you can hit this button here. I’ve already pre-calculated a nav plan, so you can hit that and be on your way.” 

“Where would it take me?” 

He takes a deep breath. “Trask, since that’s our best lead on finding other Mandalorians. Find them. Let them know you’re mine by showing them the necklace. They’ll help you.”

“Yours?” 

Mando clears his throat a little, while your stomach flutters, warmth heating your skin from the inside out. 

“I mean, one of my clan.”

Your heart warms at the thought of belonging to Din, being his in any way. 

“Ok, I think I’ve got it.”

“This is where you need to pay close attention. You need to memorize the ignition sequence.”

“Oh that! I already know it.” you state, matter-of-factly. 

A few beats pass. You smirk as Mando silently puts together how you could possibly know.

“Show me.”

You shift in his lap a little, and going from left to right, flip down five switches. Immediately, you can hear power coming online for both engines. Next, you lean to the right, first flipping the red light, then the green light above it. A quick glance out the window shows the engines are lit and adjusting. Next you reach overhead, switching on the two red lights at the right on the overhead panel. You push the lever with the silver ball doohickey on it forward, engaging the thrusters. 

“Now, it’s liftoff, right?” you say, placing your hand over the accelerator. 

“Right.”

You push the main toggle control forward and the Crest pitches forward. 

“See?...got it.”

“When did you get it?”

“Huh?”

“ When did you memorize the ignition sequence?”

“Uhh……Tatooine?”

“Tatooine?”

“Yeah, I was weighing all my options. Hijacking your ship was definitely on the table, so I memorized your patterns, just in case the opportunity presented itself.”

“Clever girl.” he says, sounding kinda proud.

After that, he goes over the finer points of landing, though there’s not much that can be taught without actually doing it, so he ends the crash course in Razor Crest aeronautics, before you reach Tython’s atmosphere. 

Before you descend upon the planet, Din regretfully vacates you from your preferred seat in his lap, and has you settlle into the passenger seat. He brings up the navigation screen and dials in on the exact coordinates left on Halo’s file. As you break through the clouds and the surface becomes visible, your heart begins to race. Tython is beautiful, covered in hills and grassy mountain sides. So far, there’s no indication of civilization, and the charts have it marked as uninhabited- which is curious, considering the breathable atmosphere and the temperate climate. 

Din looks back at you over his shoulder. You both exchange a look, but neither of you says anything. 

He continues to fly over endless hillsides, until finally you approach the targeted area on the map. 

“Looks like that’s where we are headed.” He does a sweeping flyover of the area, but all you can see is a mountain top with an odd rock formation at the peak. 

“What is that?”

“I’m not sure, but that’s where the coordinates lead.”

He hits a switch on his console and the computer gives off a beep before relaying some type of thermal readout. 

“There doesn’t seem to be any sentient life forms…just a few birds and local wildlife.”

You suddenly feel some relief. Maybe this was all a wild goose chase, and if that’s the case, you could live the rest of your life knowing that at least you tried. But if you’re being honest, you won’t be crying yourself to sleep tonight, because you’ll still be in Din’s arms. 

“Do we check it out?”

“We came all this way, might as well see if there’s anything helpful down there.”

Din lands the Crest about a quarter mile away, finding the nearest flat spot and the two of you hike up the mountainside toward the odd rock formation. When you reach the top, you see six towering slabs of rock forming a large circle. Each is supported by a smaller slab, allowing the larger rocks to lean toward the center of the ring. In the middle is a flat surface, dug several steps lower than the outer layer and in the very middle, is a half-dome rock that looks as if it was carved from a small boulder. 

“Well, I guess this is it.”

There are overgrown bushes and weeds that pop out of cracks in the rocks, indicating that in all likelihood, there hadn’t been any people here in a very long time. Other than the crickets peacefully chirping in the background and the dozens of blue butterflies fluttering about, you and Din seemed to be the only living things for miles around. 

“Does this look Jedi to you?”

You give him a look that says, really, you're asking me? 

“Well, I don’t see any laser-swords or loincloths…beyond that- I have no idea.”

Side by side, you approach the half dome rock. There are small markings carved in a ribbon around the outside. 

“Don’t suppose you can read those?”

Unfortunately, any hopes that the ability to read the ancient looking text was somehow imprinted on your brain due to your jedi mojo, is quickly dashed.

You slowly walk around the rock. “Yes. It says, ‘Drinks are two for one on ladies night.’ We should totally go, I haven't been on a date in for-ev-er. ” 

“That’s not true. You had a date back on Tatooine, remember?”

“Oh yeah….good ol’ what’s his face. Tried to enslave me off to his douchelord friend and didn’t even buy me dinner.” 

“Tell you what, “ he says, rounding on you to lift your chin up and meet his gaze, “I’ll buy you a real fancy dinner of dried meat and dehydrated bread…you just have to do one thing for me.”

“Mmmm, Mando- you sweet talker. What do I have to do? Is it put-out ? Because I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not that kinda girl. I do not put-out on the first date.” 

Mando gives you a soft sigh of humor but doesn’t release your chin. “I need you to concentrate.”

“Concentrate?”

“There’s got to be something here. I don’t think your brother would have brought you all the way here for no reason.”

The mention of Halo sobers you up. Mando’s right. There’s got to be something useful here, you just need to stop with the nervous chatter and look for it.

“Ok. You’re right.” you agree, nodding your head.

“Good girl.” 

Damn, why’d he have to say it that way. It does things to your body when he says, ‘good girl’.  

STOP! Concentrate!

Mando activates the scanner on his helmet and starts walking around the rock. “Maybe there’s some type of control or something.”

It’s a rock- there didn’t appear to be anything technological about it. 

“Hmmm, give me a boost up?” you ask. “Maybe if I stand on it?”

Instead of giving you a leg up like you expect, Mando grabs you around the waist and lifts you over his head, setting your feet first, on top of the rock. 

You stand there in the center, arms slightly splayed, maintaining your balance. There's dozens of blue butterflies hovering around the rock. The kaleidoscope flutters around, haloing your head, and beautiful, translucent, blue wings tickle your nose. 

“Anything?”

Other than the soft buzzing sound, of which you had no idea butterflies could make- nope . 

You shake your head with a regretful ‘no’. Mando lets out a frustrated sigh, and you feel sorry to disappoint him. You squat down taking a sitting position, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

The buzzing sound grows louder. So weird.  

“Do you hear that?” you ask.

“Hear what?”

“That buzzing sound? Like an engine fueled by bees. You don’t hear it?! It’s getting really loud.”

Mando takes a few steps back, scanning the sky. A ship, unlike any you’ve seen before, passes overhead, making a landing not far from the Crest. Oddly though, the sound you hear doesn’t feel like it’s coming from the ship. It sounds like it’s coming from the rock. 

The harsh buzzing amplifies sharply, causing you to cover your ears and close your eyes. It’s so loud! Bzzzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzz. Dear Maker, make it stop. It sounds like a buzzsaw cutting through your skull. Bzzzzzzz. You have to make it stop! Bzzzzzzzzz. You focus all your energy on the sound, willing it to stop before you literally go mad from it. Bzzzzzz. 

Concentrate! You can do this. You stopped a mudhorn in its tracks, you can stop the buzzing. Concentrate!

You focus on the sound, imaging its source as a small, glowing ball of blue and white light. It’s surrounded by darkness, pitch as black, with bolts of lightning forking away from it. You focus on the ball and imagine dimming its light. The lightning becomes intermittent, slowly dying down. The ball begins to flicker, and the buzzing sound wanes. You're doing it!

You keep focus on the ball, straining to dissolve it. The ball begins to shrink, its light dimming as it loses mass. The buzzing sound is now light- you won’t lose your mind after all. You press even harder, the ball shrinking, until finally, its light snuffs out completely, bursting into the kaleidoscope. The beautiful, blue winged insects flutter away until you can no longer see their color. Complete silence. Total darkness. You hear nothing but the sound of your own breathing. Ordinarily, you’d find that unnerving, eerie even. But right now, for some reason, you’re not scared in the dark. You’re alone in the dark and not afraid. There's almost comfort to it. You feel like you can say absolutely anything, and the universe will hear your message. 

So what is it that you want to say? 

Hello?

Your voice echoes through your mind and out into the infinite abyss. You wait in silence to see if the universe hears you. 

Hello, it says back. The universe has the warm voice of a male, kind and intrigued. 

What to say? What to say next? What does one say when the whole universe is listening? As if he senses your hesitation, he answers first. 

What is your name?

My name? What’s my name? Why am I drawing a complete blank? The universe wants to know my name and I can’t land on an answer. Why is it so hard to speak? You try to focus your energy on projecting your name out, but it takes an incredible effort. You barely manage to say the words. 

He repeats your name and answers in kind.  I am Luke.

His voice is comforting, strong but friendly…so calm. He doesn’t seem at all disturbed to be hearing voices from the abyss. 

How can I help you? 

Help? Yes! You need help. How to answer? You start to speak, but your words sound like you’re underwater. What if he can’t understand? You begin to panic. What if this is your one chance to get help and you’re blowing it because your voice doesn’t want to work? 

As if understanding your dilemma, the voice answers back. Show me. 

Show him? But how? 

He repeats himself again. Show me. 

You forget about using your voice and try to conjure images with your mind's eye. You can’t explain what it is you need help within pictures, so instead, your mind flashes back to memories. 

There’s a flash of your father fighting with your brother. A flash of the orphanage and running away. A flash of the mudhorn and passing out. A flash of the Imps hunting you down and a flash of you trying to heal Mando, his bloody head in your lap- your eyes squeezed closed. Not a single flash lasts more than a few seconds. It would be impossible for anyone to decipher much beyond some convoluted puzzle with far too many missing pieces. 

The images dissolve and the darkness begins to fade to light. No! No! You failed! This was your one opportunity to find help, but you can feel yourself slipping out of the darkness, away from the voice. You try to reach out, but there’s nothing to grab on to. You can already feel the warmth of the sun returning to your skin. Just before the light completely drowns out the darkness, you hear the voice speak one last time. 

I’m coming. 

Face meets dirt as reality comes crashing back into focus with a hard thud . You blink your eyes open and spit the grit out of your mouth. You look to the side and see the rock you must of toppled off of when you came out of your stupor.  As your processing comes back online, you register the sound of rapid-fire blasting in the distance. Din!

“Mando!” you shout, attempting to rise back to your feet. Your head is pounding with the galaxy’s worst hangover, causing your stomach to roll with nausea as you try to regain your wits. 

“Mando!” you scream again, sounding shrill to your own ears. You stumble away from the rock, heading toward the sound of blasting. He must be under fire- you have to get to him!

Another loud buzzing sound grows. Not again. 

No. Not buzzing. The sound of multiple small rocket engines, similar to Mando’s jetpack, and closing in. Dust wafts over your eyes and metal clanks, as several seven foot tall battle droids land in a circle around you. You pull out your blaster and begin firing with zero hesitation. Every shot is a direct hit, but goes ricocheting wildly into the atmosphere. You continue firing as they take synchronized steps forward, trapping you in a circle. You turn to face a different one, hoping that your shots will have better impact on the next, but whatever their exo-skeletons are made of, it seems to be resistant to blaster fire. The droid to your left swings out, hits your forearm and knocks the blaster out of your hand with a jarring impact that reverberates through your bones. 

You hear Mando shout your name just as another droid grabs you from behind. You’re immediately lifted off your feet as rockets ignite, and you’re rapidly launched into the air. The ground disappears at an alarming rate and it’s mere seconds before the giant rock formations are mere boulders to your sight. You instinctually clutch to the metal arms holding you as the ground grows smaller and smaller. You still have a knife, but what good does that do you when the enemy is currently the only thing keeping you from falling to your death? 

Wind blasts your face as you continue to rocket upward. You feel your lungs starting to burn as the breathable air grows thin, causing you to gasp and your vision to blur. Does this droid have any idea that you are human and that your species requires air to survive? You consider shouting as much but can’t seem to swallow enough air to form the words. It’s all a moot point anyway, when the world fades to black.

 

“I don’t understand why we have to just stand here, there’s nowhere for her to go.” an unfamiliar voice says. 

A second unfamiliar- also slightly modulated- voice replies, “I don’t know, we just do.”

You woke several minutes ago, but sensing unknown surroundings, remained still, keeping your eyes closed, so as not to alert your new company. 

“How long do we have to stay here?”

“I dunno, until Gideon arrives.”

“What’s so special about her anyway?”

“Ah, who knows. I think it has something to do with that dorky doctor onboard.”

You sense the two males- going by their voices- are staring at you. Somehow, you manage to remain perfectly still, though you sneak the slightest peek through nearly sealed eyelashes. Two black and white silhouettes in the vague shape of human males. Troopers.  Beyond that, you are unable to see where you are without opening your eyes and giving away your conscious state. 

You do a mental status check. Surroundings, unknown . Injuries, none that you sense . Enemy, at least two stormtroopers . Weapons, blaster gone …. sorry Din, another one bites the dust. Knife, maybe? You’ll have to slide your hand around to your hip in order to know if they’ve disarmed you or not. You can’t do it without being seen, so you’ll have to wait for the right moment. Until then, you continue to listen, hoping they'll unknowingly reveal some useful information. 

A moment goes by, with nothing more than some restless shuffling. 

“So, she’s the one we’ve been chasing all over the galaxy? I still don’t understand what's so special about her.”

“I don’t know, Maybe Moff wants to do some experiments on her. I don’t ask questions.”

Moff? And you thought you heard him say Gideon earlier. Moff Gideon- the man who sent Din that threat. The one who set the original bounty. Not. Good. 

One of the troopers yawns, while the other one sighs……

“Hey, are you even sure she’s alive? I haven't seen her move once.” 

“Shouldn’t we check and make sure she’s still alive?” 

Sigh… ”You just wanna get a better look at her, probably check out her rack.”

“Well, we should check and see if she’s hurt, the last thing we want is Gideon coming in here and finding out that the thing we’ve spent months chasing all over the kriffing galaxy, just died on our watch.” 

“Fine, go ahead. Take a peek, you check.”

You can hear the trooper's soft footfalls as he slowly approaches. You will yourself to slow your breathing so much that your chest won’t rise and fall. This might be my chance. 

“She’s not moving.”

“Are you sure? Check for a pulse.” 

The trooper comes closer, placing his hand on your neck, below your ear. He waits about five seconds. Not yet….Not yet. 

“I don’t feel anything.” 

“You idiot, you’re wearing gloves.”

“Oh yeah.” he replies, stupidly.

“I know, check her breath.”

“How do I do that?” 

“Get close, see if her breath fogs your visor.”

“Ah, good thinking.” 

This is it. 

You feel the trooper sit down on the bench beside you. The rustle of his plastoid armor indicates that he’s leaning forward. You slide your hand over to your hip and feel the unmistakable shape of the dagger. When his helmet comes close, you peer through your lashes and zone in on his exposed weakness. You might not be able to penetrate the plastoid and blaster mesh under his armor, but at this close proximity, you could stab right through the black body glove covering his neck. You unsheathe the dagger, slipping it securely in the palm of your hand. The trooper leans forward, putting his helmet close to your lips.

You spring into action, grabbing the trooper with your empty hand, and yank him against your chest. Your knife hand strikes out, stabbing him in the neck, down to the hilt. Blood arcs across the metal wall when you yank the knife back out, and the trooper falls to his knees. His bucket hasn’t even hit the floor before his friend is on top of you. He grabs you around the neck, trying to push you back into the wall. Just like we practiced….

You pull down on his arm, while thrusting upward with the knife. Aiming for a thin, one inch strip of exposed black fabric. The knife finds its mark and the trooper loses his grip on your neck. You continue stabbing in quick succession, just like Din showed you. You find a vulnerable patch under his arm, leaving the left side of his ribcage wide open. The knife scrapes over bone, grating like stone on the withdrawal, but the damage is already done. The trooper scuffles back, stumbling to the ground with awful liquid choking sounds. Punctured lung. 

One trooper dead, one will be, in a matter of minutes. Threat neutralized. 

You take in the room. A dark room, maybe fifteen by fifteen with metal gray walls, lit by vertical light panels on the side. No windows. No control panels. It’s void of anything other than three walls, a bench, and a large door. Blasters! Troopers are usually armed with blasters! You quickly survey the gurgling trooper. His arms fall limp at his side, and he stops moving. There, next to his leg! You approach the trooper, squatting down to swipe the gun. The large doors retract into the walls and just as you lift your arm to take aim, the blaster is shot out of your hand.

You step back until the back of your knees meet the bench. A tall man, with dark skin and a mustache you’d love to punch off his face enters the room, flanked by more armed troopers on both sides, and a high-ranking officer behind him. He’s holding a glowing….well it can only be described as an ignited laser-sword. The blade is black as space, yet it emits an eerie white light that hums with electricity, sparking the air. It has death written all over it. You fail to swallow the hard lump in your throat, threatening to cut off your air. 

Moff Gideon.

“Drop the knife too.” 

You hesitate, squeezing the hilt tighter. You eye the troopers on either side- both armed- before meeting eyes with Gideon again. He has an irritating smirk on his face, because he knows you’re the fool that brought a knife to a laser-sword fight. There’s no getting out of it, not like that. You toss the knife aside, but remain standing straight, your chin jutting in defiance- even if you did technically obey his order. You may have lost your weapon, but you will not cower. I will not yield to this man.

“Such a crude weapon, for one such as you.” he says, kicking the knife away as he approaches. 

“Such as me?” you manage to reply, without your voice wavering. 

“Yes. You’d be much more suited to something with a little sophistication, don’t you think?”

“Well, you tell me. You seem to be getting off on your extra flair, aren’t you?” you quip back, nodding to his sword. 

He lets out a small chuff, as he approaches closer. 

“Ever seen a weapon like this?” 

He waves the damn thing inches away from your face. With every movement, the weapon seems to voice its own opinion, emitting an unusual sound akin to running your finger over the rim of a glass of water- a strange vibration. Gideon is totally getting off on this little power play, but you do your damndest not to flinch. 

“Why don’t you hand it over, and I’ll take a closer look?”

“Tsk Tsk, I don’t think you're quite ready for that.” he says, retracting the blade to disappear into the hilt. 

He stares at you again, like he’s just won the galaxy’s best prize. 

“I’ve been looking for you a longgg time,” he says, addressing you directly, by your given name. Hearing the sound of it roll off his tongue so easily, leaves you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. This man, so smug, is clearly trying to unnerve you. 

“I must say, your welcome party leaves much to be desired.”

He smiles again, taking your attempt at sarcasm as a sign of weakness. 

I hate this man. 

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase, and you tell me what it is exactly, that you want with me.”

“Put her in shackles.” he orders a trooper, before taking a step back.

“We’ll get to that soon enough. For now, your obedience is a good start.” 

You don’t fight when the trooper grabs your wrists, locking them in cuffs. The other gathers the disposed weapons. Their time will come. I will find a way out of this. 

Gideon turns his back to you and leaves the way he came. Before the doors close, you hear him give orders to his officer. 

“Tell Dr. Pershing, we have his vessel.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: Fun Fact I didn't know until writing this chapter: A group of butterflies is officially called a kaleidoscope. Isn't that fun?! Sometimes they are referred to as a swarm. Groups of caterpillars are called an army.

So, yeah. That chapter was a little bit of everything. Are you still here with me? I can't believe we only have a few chapters left to go. Next chapter is going to be torturous....literally. We are going off course again, in case you're worried this is just going to be a regurgitation of the show....it's not.

Also, I am a shitty editor. It is what it is. Take it or leave it.

As always, kudus, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Faithful Readers: @brunette-overalls @yeetusfeetus3000 @mandomovermover @Wildmoonflower @littlemisspascalpascal @mOminousRex @pickledbeskar @spideysimpossiblegirlysimpossiblegirl @starwars-thirsthirst @mandomover

Taglist Request

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory #slowburn #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin #in the dark

[heliotrope-journey]

Post-Midnight Update on Son of a Hustler's Episode 3

Good early morning, vampire hunters.

Chubbo has had a busy past few days at his real life job this week so Son of a Hustler’s Episode 3 will be delayed for a little while longer. Anthony and I have been busy ourselves, but we’re making certain Michaela’s hike through the Lachrymose Blood Forest will be available for you to experience over the summer. Check out some of the progress we’ve made, but don’t get too excited. Showing you Anthony’s contributions too early will spoil the boss battle for this installment. :)

That was a line written to test a change in aesthetics after dialogue is spoken. No way would Michaela be this enthusiastic to wrestle a hatchet from a skeleton slouching on a fence.

Not all faces Michaela and Einsam will encounter in the forest are hostile, but they’re still on edge over the hidden dangers such as the sound of Arachne sneaking about in the treetops. What runaway can blame them?

The séance circle where the earth magic practitioners gathered to meditate is complete. Though the deer skull is alluring to some*, the sight causes the young woman discomfort. Photo by kaplanart on Pexels.

Chin up, guys. If the early morning hike in Lachrymose Blood Forest has gotten you disconsolated, you can always go to your happy place at The Sunny Inn in Baudelaire City. It’s too early in Waltz of Sepulchral Silence Volume II’s development to release it, but you’re welcome to save this tranquil ad as your lock screen. Photo by Zak Boca on Unsplash.

Thank you for supporting the series as always and I hope you have a great weekend.

Sincerely,

WN

*Somehow, my mother and a friend of my late brother's were intrigued when they saw the skull. Best not to let either of them visit the séance circle alone. *gulps*

#photoshop #lachrymose blood forest #dragonfruit #nature photography #coming soon #son of a hustler #waltz of sepulchral silence #indie game dev #new video game #greenery #frederick #july #elijah #michaela #einsam #chubbo #anthony cronander #mixed media #dark magic #heliotrope journey #séance #deer skull #magic is in the air #danger approaches #baudelaire city #pixel art #artists on tumblr #artistssupportingartists #dark forest #dark nature

[co-reborn]

2023 Update

Most normal people would do this in January, but here I am being a weirdo and doing it in February. Why is that so? Well, it’s because my life has taken a major change exactly a year ago so I’m doing it now instead.

Life isn’t too bad, I’m not very busy but I can’t get to writing as easily as I used to. I still want to write, I still spend some time every other day opening up a draft but the words aren’t coming as easily as before. 

This update will mainly be talking about my drafts and asks along with other random bullshit:

Drafts

Throw everything you expect from me out of the window. I don’t even know what I want to commit to anymore. My two original series are pretty much dead and I lack the drive to complete them. A part of me really wants to even delete the rewrites but I would not for the memory of them. Just don’t expect a continuation of them at all, let alone the completion of them. 

I think the only few drafts I’m really interested in are some college AU smuts (like Bust or Bust) along with trying to get Conquered Odds to a satisfying conclusion. However as usual, ideas come in the most random places so I might stray away from these again in the future. 

Basically, don’t expect any specific piece from me. If something even comes out, hope you guys appreciate it and continue supporting me. 

Asks

I have been ignoring many many asks for the past year and I’m not really in any mood to get to them whenever I do have free time. So I intend to delete all of them and empty my inbox for a fresh start. Going forward, I will try to answer them but I also can’t guarantee answering them. If I don’t feel like it, I’ll likely just delete it. Hope there are no hard feelings. If I don’t want to, I don’t want to. As easy as that.

Community Labels

So ever since this bullshit has been a thing, I mainly upload my posts with them immediately but I don’t think all my readers see them because they are hidden due to the mature tag. Look at this post by peach on how to turn off the filter. 

To avoid missing out on my posts, I do hope you guys also check out my pinned post or my (desktop) masterlist on my latest works. I will not be posting my stories with the tag immediately but will delay it for maybe a week or two, or good ol’ Tumblr decides to put it for me. 

Confidence

My confidence is fluctuating a lot these days. Sometimes I come in wanting to write, then I sit in front of my computer/phone and no words come out. From my POV, there’s no better way to get a gauge of how the general readers view my works other than notes so I tend to over fixate on them at times. The other writers are always amazing at conveying their feelings about them but it’s really hard to get any form of feedback from readers. 

I say this, but I don’t really want to reach out to you guys to send asks for some feedback but just to let you guys know how I feel about this and a little more about myself.

I’ll try to continue growing as a writer, but I feel like I’m stagnating a lot. Sometimes I want to try something different but I don’t know how to get started. So I go in a circle and go back to the default. Ok I think I’m ranting at this point and I don’t know where I’m going with this lol.

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That’s it for the 2023 update, see you guys again if/when a new fic is out (probably)