#spice smuggling

[galacticgraffiti]

𑁍⋆ Eya - Ep. V ⋆𑁍

@sar-arts my beautiful ray of sunshine has made this commission for me! The vibes are off the charts, so I thought I'd give this as a visual for what reader sees across the dancefloor. You can find it on their blog here.

Rating: Explicit so explicit super explicit monsterfucking Wordcount: 11.2k (oops) Characters: Eya (Nautolan!OC), f!reader, Raia (by @cyarbika), vague mention of 501st troopers Warnings: Dom(ish)!Eya, sub(by)!f!reader, lotta foreplay/flirting, monsterfucking/alienfucking, tentacle porn i guess, nautolans have sensitive tendrils, oral (reader receiving), lots of nautolan biology headcanons, fingering, allusion to squirting, multiple orgasms, healthy communication before and during sex, lots of explicit consent, dirty talk, praise (both ways), ton of petnames for reader, body worship, aftercare.

A/N: Read the warnings carefully. I'm going all-out monsterfucker for this one, so if that's not for you, just leave it. There will be more SFW and probably more NSFW Eya content that does not go the whole mile, fret not! Thanks so much to @rowansparrow for beta'ing this for me, I really appreciate the input and the yelling in the comments, mwah! Raia is only a side character in this one, she belongs to @cyarbika, thanks so much for letting me borrow her again!

Eya Artwork ⋆ Eya’s Charactersheet ⋆ My Masterlist

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

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The Way You Taste

One night at 79's 20 BBY

Your eyes drift across the crowd, not searching for anyone in particular. Why your friends would drag you to a clone bar, you cannot fathom - well, you can, sort of. For people interested in men, this place must be heaven. For you it’s… a nice conversation and a vaguely crestfallen look in dark eyes as each trooper slinks off when you turn them down. It is awkward hints and sitting alone at the bar while your friends are off dancing with their respective partners. The troopers are nice, but it is hard to ignore the disappointment in their eyes when they catch onto the fact that you are not interested, and that it’s not a matter of convincing you otherwise, but just a fact.

You have had some wonderful conversations, but most of the troopers are here for the obvious reason of picking someone up, and you do not blame them. That’s what bars are intended for - mostly. Right now though, you are sitting at the counter, stirring in your drink and letting your thoughts drift. Every once in a while, your gaze catches on the reflection of the dancers in the mirror behind the shelves, but you try not to stare too much. It’s literally their job to present themselves to the crowd, yes, but it still feels… weird. Intrusive, somehow, like they are not dancing for you but for someone else. It’s probably just your anxiety, but it does not exactly help to be sat here alone. Neither does the fact that one of the bouncers, a huge, tatted-up Nautolan, keeps staring over at you. Their looks make you feel even more out of place.

You order another drink, and the bartender, a pale Togruta lady with very pretty markings, smiles at you compassionately.

“Left alone by your friends for some handsome soldiers, huh?”

“I… yeah. Pretty much. Coming here wasn’t the original plan, but I would’ve felt like an arsehole saying no. We have been meaning to come here for forever and… anyways. Nobody’s fault that the main clientele isn’t- exactly my cup of tea.”

The bartender's eyebrows shoot up and you realise what you must have sounded like.

“Oh! I mean- fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. The troopers are doing an incredible service to the Republic and, you know, so far they’ve all been super nice to me. And they are handsome, of course they are! I’m just not into men, so…”

“Oh!” The Togruta laughs at your frantic explanation, showing her sharp teeth and nodding eagerly. “Ah yes, I suppose that limits your choices somewhat, doesn’t it… unless you want to go home with one of the dancers.”

“I… well. I don’t wanna be a creep, you know?” You shrug, accepting your new drink with a grateful nod. “Being nice and flirty is their job, and I just- I don’t wanna hit on them while they’re working.”

“That’s very sweet of you, love.” The bartender nods and smiles at you. “I’m Raia, by the way.”

You tell her your name, but before you can continue your conversation, Raia is called away to make another drink, leaving you alone once again.

You twist around in your seat, scanning the crowd. Your friends seem to be getting hot and heavy with the troopers of their choice, both clones clad in freshly scrubbed plastoid armour with blue detailing. You grin to yourself, then a shudder runs through your body when your eyes once again land on the Nautolan bouncer. You are fascinated by them - by their presence that you can feel from so far away, by their tattoos and, yes, by their bulging muscles. You wonder if they are really as tall as they seem from afar. When your eyes focus on their face, they are met by theirs and you flinch. They noticed you staring. The Nautolan bares their teeth at you, revealing glittering silver between their lips in the strobing lights of the club. Hastily, you look away. Did you do something wrong? Fuck-

“You alright, love?”

Raia looks at you with mild concern in her eyes. You bite your lip hesitantly. Feels weird to… rat that bouncer out like that. They are just doing their job.

“I uh. I feel awkward saying this but your bouncer- the… the Nautolan over there in the corner, I think they-”

“...they’ve taken a liking to you?” Raia grins, waggling her eyebrows, while your heart stumbles at her words.

“They- what?” You shake your head. “No, they just bared their teeth at me, I think I must’ve upset them in some w-”

“Oh- oh no! Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Raia giggles, tossing one lek over her shoulder. “I’m sorry for laughing, it’s just- that’s how they smile. Took them some practice to learn that, and they… they haven’t quite figured it out. I know the metal fangs are scary as fuck. Took me a while to get used to them as well.”

Metal… Oh. The glittering between their lips.

“Why do they have-”

Raia shrugs before you can even finish your question.

“Couldn’t tell you. But… why don’t you ask them yourself? Hi Eya!”

Your eyes go wide when you see a broad form step up to you in the mirror behind the bar, two mismatched eyes meeting yours through the reflection. Glittering teeth are bared once again and you shiver. This time it is not from fear of having done something wrong, though. Now that Raia has reassured you, an entirely different feeling floods your body as you take in the muscular silhouette that looks even stronger from up close. Your eyes linger on the colourful tattoos covering much of the Nautolan’s arms, and even one of their tendrils, before flicking back up to their eyes that are still fixed on you. A sudden excitement you did not expect floods you, a low heat that starts to simmer in your stomach when one muscular arm is placed on the countertop next to you as the Nautolan leans forward.

“Would you get me a pale ale, darlin’?”

The dark, raspy voice drips sweet temptation like melted chocolate and you suck in a breath, silently hoping they can’t hear you over the music. Your heart is thrumming in your ears, your cheeks warming up under their intense gaze that never leaves you. You open your mouth to answer, but the ale is already sliding across the counter.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks turn from desire to embarrassment when you realise the pet name was not directed at you, but at Raia. Of course it was. They know each other, they work together. Why would the bouncer take notice of your lonely figure sitting at the bar except to pity you? 

You take a deep stuttering breath and try to distract yourself by sipping your drink. The Nautolan doesn’t sit down, instead leans sideways against the bar as they look down at you. They are… imposing, to say the least, taller than anyone else in the bar, with thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. Loose trousers, covering long legs that are no doubt corded with muscle, hang from their hips. You find your eyes drawn to the creases in the fabric as you suppress the urge to smooth the wrinkles. Surreptitiously, you glance at their large hand that envelops the beer bottle completely. Shiny black nails, thick silver rings, long fingers that look like they would wrap around your throat perfectly… You swallow thickly.

Those fucking hands- Stars, you should not be as turned on from simply looking at them as you are right now. Your eyes fixate on yet another silver sparkle and you raise an eyebrow. Metal spikes are implanted into the Nautolan’s knuckles, shimmering in the capricious lights. You wonder what would justify such body mods…

When you finally dare raise your eyes back up, your heart stumbles as your look is met with an intense stare - one of their eyes so dark you can’t make out a pupil, the other so pale it can’t possibly be real. Another augmentation perhaps?

You realise you have been staring at them, your jaw a little slack. You bite your lip, quickly snapping your mouth shut, and lower your eyes to the floor.

“I- fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, that was rude,” you apologise. 

The Nauto’s response is a low chuckle that makes your blood run hotter.

“That’s okay. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being looked at the way you just looked at me.”

Hearing that dark chocolate voice directed at you nearly shuts down your brain and you struggle to find words. A lilac hand gently extends in your direction and, when you don’t shy back, is placed on your forearm. You find your voice again.

“I- sorry. I just… well, I thought I’d done something wrong when I first saw you looking at me, and now I- hm- you… You’re very beautiful.”

Fuck, did you just say that out loud?

A beat of silence follows your words, and you watch in fascination as the Nautolan’s tendrils curl in the air, the movement following an irregular pattern that almost looks like a dance. They sip their beer slowly. Their eyes never leave you, and they gurgle in amusement when you swallow and nearly choke on your own dry throat.

“I’m Kyreya,” they introduce themself, their teeth glittering at you once again. You swallow down the rising arousal in your belly to respond with your own name. Kyreya nods thoughtfully.

“You know… the same thing could be said about you,” they say then. You shake your head in  confusion, not following their train of thought.

“That you’re very beautiful, I mean,” Kyreya explains hastily, sounding almost embarrassed.

“Oh, I- thank you.” You feel like your head is about to explode under their intense gaze. Kyreya blinks slowly, their tongue shooting out from between their lips before they go on, their words knocking any coherent thought from your brain.

“And you taste of desire.”

Oh. Your mouth hangs slightly open as your brain processes what they just said. Kyreya watches you intently, apparently waiting for your response, but you seem to have temporarily forgotten how to form words.

“Eya,” a voice scolds from the side, and your eyes finally break away from the Nautolan’s to find Raia standing behind the counter with an amused grin on her lips, watching the two of you.

“What? She does,” Kyreya defends themself, then pauses to turn back to you. “Was that inappropriate to say? I apologise, little one.”

Little one. Kriffing stars-

“I…” you trail off, not really sure how to respond to that. If it was anyone else, you might have said yes, but with Kyreya, it just feels like… they are saying what they are thinking, not necessarily with any lewd intention behind it. “Well- maybe to some people. I don’t… I can’t say I mind it.”

Kyreya gurgles happily, then smiles at you so broadly you get a full view of their metal-coated teeth. It shouldn’t look nearly as hot as it does.

“Good,” they mumble quietly. You shyly smile up at them, and lean a little closer. Eya finally takes a seat on one of the barstools, still towering over you. They prop up their head on their hand, and you try not to stare at the way their bicep bulges when they do. Somehow, they still notice, chuckling lowly at the way your breath stumbles when they flex again.

“I’m just teasing you, pretty girl.” They lean closer to whisper conspiratorially. “Like I said, I don’t mind being stared at when it’s like this, by someone as pretty as you.”

You sigh quietly when one of their fingers runs up the sensitive inside of your forearm, and Kyreya pulls back.

“Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, please. I’ve been told I can come across as very… forward. Intense, I think, was the word that was used. Just- yeah. If anything’s too much, please tell me.”

“Not too much,” you whisper, instead scooting closer into their space. Their presence is intoxicating, your skin on fire where they are touching you. Eya nods thoughtfully, placing their hand on your arm again, and you shiver. Their tendrils curl in the air when you do, and Eya cocks their head.

“Hmm. You taste good, little one.”

Their words go straight to your core, and Eya smirks, but does not comment on your reaction. Their eyes flick to the glass you are clutching in your hand, before they look back at you, leaning a bit closer.

“So… Alderaanian wine, huh? You ever been?”

You fall into conversation easily. Kyreya asks the right questions, and though they themself are not much of a talker, you find them to be an exceptionally attentive listener, chiming in with thoughtful comments as you talk about your life, your job, and, finally, about this night out that turned out so different than you had originally thought.

While you talk, they are constantly touching you, just lightly - a hand on your arm, your knee bumping against theirs, the light trace of their fingers on your inner wrist. It stokes the fire in your belly, the need to be touched more and elsewhere and MORE. Kyreya seems to feel this, their hands lingering longer the longer you talk, their face inching closer under the pretence of listening, their whole body leaning towards you. And you, whether intentional or not, are doing the same, so wrapped up in their presence and their attention that you don’t even notice the tendril that sneaks its way around your arm.

Your brain assumes it to be Eya’s other hand, and you don’t pay the sensation much attention until the far, rational corner of your mind registers that their other hand is still wrapped around their beer bottle, so they can’t be touching you, and-

“-oh,” you break off the sentence you just started, something about your family and why you moved to Coruscant in the first place.

“Hm?” Eya seems to be ripped from the same trance you have been in, their eyes flicking over to where you are staring, where their tendril curls lazily around your wrist and up your arm. Suddenly, the air seems to be so thick with tension it’s hard to breathe. Kyreya glides back, but your hand on their forearm stops them.

“Osik, I- shit… sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to-” they start to ramble, but trail off when you soothe them, your hand slipping up to cup their jaw.

“I don’t mind,” you whisper. “Just- you’re not… not doing anything to me, are you?”

“I- no, of course not! You’d feel it if I was,” Eya stumbles over their words, the explanation tumbling from their lips so hastily you can hardly make out what they are saying. “I- sorry. It’s not… not exactly voluntary. I can control them, if I focus really hard, but mostly they just… follow my feelings, go where it feels good. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt them, smiling, and tracing your fingers along their jawline before you let your hand slip down, softly caressing the length of the tendril that wraps around your forearm. Eya shivers under your touch, but does not otherwise respond, so you reassure them once again.

“Really, I promise, it’s fine. I just hadn’t noticed- hadn’t realised, but I… it feels… nice.”

Eya’s brow rises, but they don’t say anything. Slowly, their tendril curls up your arm further, pressing slightly into your skin. You shudder at the sensation and lean closer, fixating them with burning eyes while your fingers stroke along their tendril.

“It feels really nice,” you murmur.

They start to smile, that baring of teeth you have become so used to so quickly. The tentacle curls a little tighter, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Eya watches your every reaction with large eyes. You swallow thickly.

“Are you… are you doing that?”

“Right now? I’m… encouraging them to… explore you, yes,” they admit, tilting their head slightly. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Stars- yes, I like it. I like it very much,” you manage, watching in fascination as a shorter tendril wraps around your wrist, resting right on your pulse point.

“Hmm, good,” Eya hums. “Because it feels really good for me too.”

“Yeah?” Your face is so close to theirs you can feel their warmth on your own skin, and it makes you shiver. You are nearly certain you will leave a puddle on the barstool when you get up, your panties completely soaked through and your legs a little shaky. 

Eya leans in closer, the metal of their lip piercings cool against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, darlin’,” they purr, their voice so low you can feel it vibrate in your core. “You taste delicious… and that’s only the desire on your skin. I bet your pussy is the sweetest thing in all the galaxy.”

Your fingernails dig into their skin as you choke on air trying to come up with a response, and they chuckle, leaning back slightly.

“Careful, little one. Plenty of time for that later.”

“Later?” Your mind is in a haze, you can barely follow a word they say, everything inside you consumed by the aching, fiery want to have more and preferably everywhere and now.

“Mhm, I gotta finish my shift,” Eya mumbles and pulls back, the regret audible in their voice. “Or did you forget I’m still working?”

“Fuck, I- yeah, actually I did forget,” you confess, laughing a little at yourself and shaking your head. “You’re just… Stars, you’re incredible. I haven’t felt like this… maybe ever.”

Their voice is liquid sin when they respond.

“Hmm, and I haven’t even really gotten started yet, sweet girl.”

Eya smiles at you, and slowly starts to unwrap their tendrils from around you. You shiver with every inch they recede.

“Actually,” a voice chimes in from beside you, and your head whips around. Raia is leaning against the counter, casually polishing a glass without even looking up. “Actually, your shift ended a half hour ago. Soket is already here.” She nods over to the corner where a tall, brooding Zabrak stands. Eya tenses for a second, then nods at Raia.

“Shit- sorry, darlin’. I… I got a little lost.”

Raia grins and shrugs.

“It happens… though with you, not all that often, love. So, you know, go get it.” She turns to you. “And you- you better treat them right. I’m sure you will be… well taken care of in return.”

“Raia!” Kyreya hisses while you’re still searching for words inside your overwhelmed brain.

“What?” Raia defends herself, chuckling and taking another glass in her hand that does not actually need polishing. “You two looked like you were about to do it right here on the damn bar top. If you hadn’t broken it up I would’ve thrown you out myself, which is ironic, considering you are supposed to be the bouncer here.”

Eya grumbles something to themself, but their eyes sparkle when they fixate on you.

“You ready to go, little one? Because I sure as hells am.”

“Yeah- fuck, give me one second, I’ll be right back, I gotta go tell my friends.”

Eya nods, and you run off to the dance floor, grabbing the first of your friends you can find and stuttering something about taking someone home with you.

They laugh and tease you, but mostly just nod along, throwing you kisses before turning back to the trooper they have been dancing with. His eyes twinkle when he winks at you, the tattoo on his temple rising with his brow. You giggle; it feels almost like he is congratulating you, and this entire situation is just so… absurd. You bow jokingly and kiss your friend’s cheek before sauntering back towards Eya, who is leaning against the bar casually.

Taking in their frame, you feel the anticipation in your belly rise again. Kriffing hells, they are just… so broad. And muscular. And pretty. You tell them as much when you hook your arm under theirs, and Eya chuckles, leaning down.

“And you, pretty girl… you’re so small. Bet you’d weigh barely more than a feather if I were to pick you up, press you against a wall…”

And just like that, the fire in your belly erupts, filling your limbs with a heated desire. You squeeze Eya’s hand, careful to avoid their metal knuckles, and practically drag them out the door with you. You raise your hand to flag down an airtaxi, but Eya just shakes their head and pulls you towards the back exit of 79’s, stopping right next to a sleek black speeder bike.

“Get on,” they say. “Sorry, I don’t exactly have any safety gear… Is it far to your place?”

“Not like a helmet would stop me from falling to my death anyways,” you joke dryly and shrug. “And no, not that far, ten minutes tops at this time of night.”

Eya’s eyes glide up and down your body, and you feel like you might as well already be naked.

“Good.” They stretch out the word like they are chewing it up and spitting it out. “Because I can’t wait to bury my face in your pretty pussy, princess.”

“Fucking- Stars, Eya,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. Eya laughs, then picks you up and gently places you down on the speeder bike before getting on in front of you. You are too stunned by the ease with which they moved you to complain, and so you decide to simply wrap your hands around their midriff.

“Good girl,” you can hear them mumble, and you press your thighs closer to theirs.

Eya’s laugh vibrates through your entire body, along with the thrusters of the bike that has just come to life beneath you. You tell them the coordinates to your flat, and Eya types them into the nav as you chug towards the edge of the areaway, carefully dodging clones and other patrons in various stages of drunkenness.

“Hold on tight, little one!” Eya calls, and just as your arms wrap tighter around their waist, you drop over the edge. You think you scream, but only for a second, because then you have already found your lane. 

“You alright?” The wind rips Eya’s words from their lips, but you know what they are asking before they say it. Instead of yelling back, you carefully tap the tendril that hangs closest by your side, slipping it around your hand. You can feel the way Eya breathes in sharply at the sensation, their stomach expanding underneath your other hand. Their reaction feels more like surprise than discomfort, but you want to check in if this is okay - you are not exactly well versed in Nauto culture. You hold out a thumb to them, pressing to their back as close as you can so they can see it, and they give you a little thumbs up back.

You close your eyes and relax into their broad frame, into the feeling of safety they give you… and into the rush of adrenaline that still makes your body thrum.

You can feel Kyreya shift in front of you, carefully rearranging your grip around them. Their tendril wraps tighter around your wrist when you press your tits against their back, your heartbeat hammering inside your head. You lose yourself in your fantasy, in the feeling of them against you, the rippling muscles beneath your hands, the broad back against your cheek.

The ride is simultaneously the longest and shortest time you have ever lived through. When Eya pulls up to your flat, you don’t know whether to be relieved that you are finally here or disappointed that it didn’t last longer. When Eya dismounts the bike and picks you up, their hands below your ass pushing you up until you wrap your legs around their waist, you decide you are definitely relieved. Yeah, definitely.

Eya’s mismatched eyes burn into yours, their lips only inches from yours as they press you closer to them.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you say even before they have finished. “Yes- fuck–”

Their lips are on yours before you can breathe. You moan at the feeling, and Eya groans just as enthusiastically, stumbling back and spinning you around until your back is pressed up against the durasteel wall of your building. Your hands interlace behind their neck as you pull yourself up to kiss them deeper. Eya’s hands are all over you, hiking up your dress without a care in the world, moving across your bare skin. You are in too deep to care what anyone flying by might think, lost in the desire that their lips on yours ignite.

When their tongue slips between your lips, you open your mouth wider to let them in, and your last bit of self-control is out the window. A hand grabs your arms, pressing them to the wall above your head, both your wrists held in a single hand as Eya moans into your mouth.

Velvety-soft tendrils sneak around your shoulders, pressing into you, pulling you closer. Your skin tingles where you are connected, and you grind your hips against Kyreya. They groan into the kiss, and you smile.

“Fuck- osik, iviin’yc-” A note of impatience sneaks into their gravelly voice. “C’mon, princess- wanna taste you, but not here, you gotta- gotta unlock the door, come on, hurry up.”

They pull back to mumble quickened words into your neck before licking and sucking at the tender flesh.

“Shit,” you mumble, shivering, and tap at their hand that’s still holding you in place. “Let me down, baby.”

Kyreya reluctantly lets you slip down to the ground so you can step up to the door and complete the necessary bioscans. You stumble through the hallway dragging them behind you, into the lift, Eya plastered to your back, their hands all over you. You want to turn around and kiss them, but you have the sneaking suspicion that if you did, you would never make it to your flat.

When you finally, finally, get to your apartment door, a large hand wraps around your neck from behind as they press up against you. Eya doesn’t squeeze, just rests their hand there with gentle pressure as you unlock the door with shaky fingers and pull them inside with you.

When the door closes behind you, they are already on you again, their fingers buried in your hair, one hand hoisting you up, tendrils wrapping around your shoulders, your arms, your neck.

“Fuck, you like this,” Eya mumbles into your skin when you inhale sharply at the feeling of one tentacle stroking along your jawline before sneaking around your neck. “Can fuckin’ taste it- fuck, you’re so beautiful, just like this-”

“As much as I love your voice, fuckin’- shut up and kiss me,” you exhale. Eya just chuckles, their silver teeth glittering in the low light of your flat, before their mouth is on yours again. Strong hands squeeze whatever part of you they can reach, and you moan into the kiss. Eya makes a low sound in response, their tongue slipping between your lips, nudging against your own. The world moves all on its own when you close your eyes and let yourself get lost in the sensations - the feeling of long fingers wrapping around your thigh, sharp teeth bumping against your own, of Eya’s warm tongue sliding against yours and the sounds that escape both of you.

“Bedroom,” Eya mutters into your mouth, their lips never quite leaving yours.

“Yes,” you press out, “Gods, yes-”

Eya chuckles, breaking the kiss for just a second to grin at you, their tendrils unwrapping from around you. You have to fight not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you don’t want to touch the tentacles without Eya’s permission - maybe that’s rude in Nauto culture? It feels rude.

“I wasn’t asking if you wanted to take this to the bedroom, I think it was pretty clear that was where we were headed, no?” Kyreya clarifies. “I was asking where the bedroom was.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment makes heat creep into your cheeks. “I- sorry. Of course. Over there- oh!”

Even as you are nodding in the general direction of your bedroom, Eya carries you over, kicking the door open and throwing you onto the bed. You yelp in delight when you bounce on the mattress, only for Eya to crawl up and hover above you, their biceps bulging from the force needed to hold themself up.

“You doing alright, little one?”

The soft check-in makes your heart stumble.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter. “Yeah, I’m great- you okay too?”

“Of course, darlin’.” Eya leans closer, letting their teeth graze against the shell of your ear ever so lightly. You shiver when the warm air of their breath hits you. “Would be even better if I got to taste your pussy though… Will you let me?”

“Fuckin’- Stars, Eya!” The noise that escapes you at their filthy words is almost inhumane. They gurgle, and you have to laugh at the impatience in their voice when they respond.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes- Stars, of course that’s a yes, whatever you want, baby,” you manage. Eya bares their teeth at you, pressing a kiss to your lips before they trail down and down, hastily tugging your dress up. You pull it over your head only for your lips to be met by theirs again.

“You’re stunning,” Eya whispers, their eyes trailing across your bare skin, catching on your pebbled nipples, on the thin material of your panties. “By Nephto, you’re fucking perfect, all pretty and soft and pliant for me. I wanna hear the sounds you make when you come on my tongue.”

You moan their name in response, arching your back, pressing your tits to their muscular chest, your fingers digging into massive shoulders.

“Claw at me all you want, babygirl.” Eya sounds amused. “You are getting what I give you, no more, no less. That sound good?”

“Whatever you want, just- please,” you whine, impatiently pushing at them, but Eya is solid as a rock against you.

“Please what? Use your words, I want to hear you say it.” Their tone makes you shiver, so much more commanding all of a sudden, and yet still laced with that same desire that clouds your head.

“Please, Eya baby, I want you to eat my pussy. Please.”

“Good girl,” Eya mutters. You tremble, and Eya blinks slowly at you.

“You like that, sweetheart? You wanna be my good girl tonight?”

“Yes!” You answer too quickly, but you are too excited to be embarrassed about it. Eya’s thumb strokes your cheek, and they nod.

“Hmm… good to know. Tell me what you like, pretty girl, I wanna hear it all.”

“Mkay Eya.”

Eya’s nose brushes against yours when they lean closer again.

“Good girl.” They sit up, thick thighs framing your hips. You watch as they carefully tug their top over their head, careful not to let it catch on their tendrils. When one does get caught, you can’t help it - you reach out and gently guide it free. Eya sucks in a sharp breath at the touch, and you quickly let go of the velvety skin.

“Sorry,” you mumble, annoyed by your own lack of knowledge about the etiquette of other species.

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine,” Eya answers in measured words. “You just… you surprised me. Feeling you so close to me is- it’s intoxicating. It feels really good.”

“Oh!” You beam up at them, stretching out your hand but waiting for their permission before placing it on the longest tendril that reaches down to your chest and curls around your breast. Eya gurgles when you gently run your fingers up and down the length.

“That a good noise?” you ask shyly, and they nod, their eyes falling closed when you wrap your fingers around them.

“Very good,” they breathe. You can feel them start to grind down against you, their hips meeting yours in a slow but steady rhythm, and you can’t help but arch your back further, trying to find more friction. Eya’s eyes snap open.

“Osik- sorry, got lost in the feeling.”They hesitate for a second. “You know, no one’s… no one has touched me like that for so long. Hadn’t realised how much I missed it.”

They bend down to kiss you, and you shiver when their tendrils stroke across your bare chest, catching on the hardness of your nipples.

“Thank you, sweet girl. If you want we can… return to that later. But I meant it when I said I wanted to taste your pretty pussy.”

You giggle and let go of their tendril as they climb off of you, kneeling between your legs instead. Long fingers tug at the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips to aid them when Eya tugs them down your legs and throws them over their shoulder. Their tendrils curl in the air as you let your legs fall open, winding around each other, some stretching down until they can just barely touch your thighs.

“Mhm, you smell so good… smell of desire and want,” Eya sighs, positioning themself between your legs, their broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread wide. You should be embarrassed at how vulnerable you are, at their hungry stare that fixes on your wet pussy, but you can’t find it in you to care.

“Hook your legs over my shoulders, darlin’,” Eya instructs. You do as you are told, smiling at the mumbled Good girl that comes as your reward. You expect Kyreya to dive forward, but instead, they pause, staring up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You ready, pretty girl? Promise me you’ll tell me if it gets too much.”

“Maker- how long do you plan to spend between my legs, baby?” You joke, then choke on air when Eya presses a kiss to the mound of your cunt.

“As long as you’ll let me,” Eya mumbles. “Wanna lose myself in your perfect pussy… Taste you, feel you, smell you. Make you feel good. Say you’ll let me.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “Of course, baby, why would I ever say no to you- oh- sweet Stars- fuck-”

Eya withdraws their tongue from your dripping pussy to fixate you with serious eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to watch, alright?”

“Mhm,” you whimper. When their tongue slips out from between their lips again, you dig your heels into their back. Eya’s eyes don’t leave you when they lean forward and slowly, consciously, lick a long stripe through your dripping cunt. Your legs quiver, and you press your eyes shut only to snap them open again when you remember their instructions. Eya hums in response, and the vibrations against you make you shake.

Their hands wrap around your thighs, keeping you in place for them as they continue teasing. Their tongue never touches your clit, instead focusing everywhere else until you feel your pussy lips get swollen and puffy under their attentions.

At some point, Eya’s eyes slip shut as they lose themself in the taste and the feeling of you. You moan and whimper, begging and pleading for more. Eya does not stop what they are doing to respond to your sounds, nor do they change the movement of their tongue against you.

They just continue lapping at you with a quiet, burning passion that makes you moan and arch your back.

You raise your hand, slowly stretching it out, but stop just short of their head.

“Is it okay if I put my hands on your tendrils?” you ask softly. 

“Mmhm, please, feel free,” Eya hums, then groans when you slide your hands across their skull, caressing the tendrils, careful to avoid any scar tissue.

They feel… strange. You have never felt anything quite like Eya’s tendrils, the texture and muscle composition so unfamiliar to you, but you don’t mind. In fact, you are mesmerised by the movement beneath your palm, and under any other circumstances you would ask all the questions that burn in your mind, but when Eya finally - finally - dips their tongue inside you, you forget everything you were thinking.

You throw your head back and arch into the sensation, chasing their tongue so it might slip deeper inside you. Eya chuckles, but obliges your silent plea, burying their face in your pussy and sinking their tongue inside you like you are the best thing they have ever tasted.

Stars swim in your vision, you cannot remember ever feeling this good- their nose bumps against your clit, and a shiver runs through your entire body.

The heat that has been simmering in your belly rises and rises, a warmth spreading through you as the pleasure just keeps building and building. Your fingers flex against Eya’s head, your hips lifting off the bed as you press your pussy into their face. Eya makes a low sound but does not otherwise respond, and you raise your head to look at them.

The image in front of your eyes is nearly enough to make you come - Eya staring back up at you from between your legs, their nails digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs while their long tongue vanishes inside you. Two tendrils curl around your legs, joining what you assumed to be only fingers in keeping you still, the orange tips reaching towards your cunt.

Kyreya winks at you, their tongue never ceasing its movement. You moan and whine, you are right there, you can feel it- that tightening of muscles, that tension that makes you burn. You shudder, opening your mouth to warn them, but they beat you to it.

“Come for me, babygirl.”

The command is uttered in their rough voice as their eyes bear into yours. Your pussy pulses around Eya’s tongue, buried deep inside you, your fingers tightening their grip around their tendrils, and they moan into you.

“Be my good girl and come for me,” they repeat, their whisper so quiet you barely catch it, but the words are no less powerful because of it.

Everything in your belly tightens, and you feel Eya’s tendrils lifting under your hands as you arch your back, your legs shaking as your orgasm sweeps through you. Your breath stutters and you moan their name, fingers cramping until larger hands wrap around yours to gently guide them away.

Eya licks you through the orgasm, treading that delicate line between pleasure and overstimulation, until your bones go all melty and you can’t think anymore. You don’t know how long you lay there, lost in the sensation of their talented tongue, and their hands, and the all-consuming pleasure that burns through your veins.

Eventually, Kyreya pulls back, propping their face up on their hands to look up at you, a mischievous grin on their face.

It takes you a moment to realise that you do, in fact, occupy your own body. Your limbs are all tingly and your brain a little fuzzy as you try to sit up properly. Eya’s hands let go of yours to push you back down.

“Shh, no need to move, pretty girl. Stay… just like this. You look so pretty with your legs spread so wide for me, your little pussy dripping with my spit-”

“Stars, Eya,” you moan, giggling breathlessly. “You trying to make me cum again?”

There is a pause. You open your eyes again - you did not even notice them slipping shut, but when you look down, your eyes are met by Kyreya’s, blinking up at you.

“I mean… would you let me?”

“I- what?” Your brain is not working properly. Long fingers run up and down your sides, nails ghosting across your smooth skin, dancing over your hips, wrapping around your thighs.

“Would you let me make you come again?” Eya repeats. “I… if you let me, I would love nothing more.”

You sit up on your elbows to stare at them.

“Baby, you just made me cum. Really fucking hard, might I add.”

Kyreya’s fingers glide across your belly, up and down your thighs. Goosebumps erupt all over your body when they trace the curve of your waist with sharp nails, barely even touching you. They sigh.

“Yeah. And I’d like to do it again. And again. And again, if you’ll let me.” Eya fixates you with a serious expression on their face. “Darlin’, just listening to you cum- tasting the pleasure on your skin… that’s nearly enough to make me cum without being touched. I promise you, I’m having as much fun doing this as you are, uhh… getting done.”

You snort and they flash their teeth at you.

“What I’m saying is-”

“You don’t want me to return the favour?” you ask, cocking your head.

“No. Well, kinda. It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s that I don’t need you to right now, and I’d much rather give you more pleasure. We can talk about… returning the favour, as you called it- we can talk about that later, if you want.” Their grin grows impossibly wider. “If you’re still able to talk by then, that is.”

You giggle and run your fingers down their temple. Eya nuzzles their face into the palm of your hand.

“Say you’ll let me, princess.”

You consider this rather selfless offer. Your legs are still warm and wobbly, and you think you can still feel your pulse in your pussy, but… if they are offering, who are you to say no to such a gift?

“Under one condition,” you say and hook your fingers under their jaw to tilt up their face.

“Oh, posing conditions now, are we?” Eya sounds more amused than anything, and you smile at them.

“Yes, we damn well are. Actually, two of them, to be exact.” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I not be able to… take care of you tonight- promise me I’ll get to at some later point? Because trust me, as good as you are - and Stars, baby, you are really good - but… as good as you are, I would very much like to taste you as well.”

Eya nods seriously, pressing their palm to yours.

“Whatever you wish, darlin’. If you’re offering…” Their eyes sparkle mischievously. “What’s the second condition?”

“Get up here and kiss me right now,” you say without hesitation.

Kyreya gurgles happily, hoisting their massive body up from between your thighs to crawl and hover over you, their legs bracketing yours. You can feel the soft material of their trousers pressing against your throbbing pussy when they lean down to kiss you. 

Oh, that’s right. 

They never even took off their trousers-

“Don’t you wanna take those off?” Your mouth seems to be working much faster than your brain, and you hastily bite your tongue. Maybe there’s a reason they haven’t.

“Oh, I would, sweet girl. I’m just… expecting it to be a distraction if I did. And I don’t want you distracted while I eat your pretty pussy.”

Oh. 

“Ah,” you manage weakly. You have no idea what exactly they are talking about.

“You’ll see what I mean… later.” Eya nudges your nose with theirs. “Now- wasn’t there a reason you wanted me to come up here? Ah yes, I remember…”

You chuckle into the kiss, but when their tongue slips inside your mouth, your laughter quickly turns into a moan. Your taste lingers on their tongue, and Eya groans quietly into the kiss when you wrap your hand around their head to pull them even closer.

You are both breathless when you break apart, Eya’s tendrils curling happily in the air. Gently, you wrap your hand around the one closest to your face, letting your hand glide along the velvety-soft skin, and Eya shudders.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” they warn you, but you can hear the amusement in their voice - and the arousal. You let go of their tendril and raise your hands.

“‘m not doing anything.”

Eya chuckles as they position themself between your thighs again, big hands pulling at your hips until their hot breath fans over your cunt. You shiver.

“Keep your hands to yourself if you know what’s good for you,” they instruct you. “I know you like to… touch. But not this time, I want you to be good for me, you think you can do that? Keep your hands right where they are now, close your eyes… relax. You did so well for me earlier, I want this one to feel even better, yeah?”

You nod hastily, but Eya scolds you.

“Use your words, pretty girl. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Shit- yes, Eya. Promise. I’ll stay just like this, I’ll be good for you.”

“Mhm, good girl.” Their rough voice makes you shiver, and they gurgle quietly, one hand coming up to stroke a thumb across your pebbled nipple. 

This time, there is no warning, no soft kisses. Their tongue slips inside you before you even notice their head dropping down, and you cry out. Automatically, your hands reach down to rest on their head, feel their movement, but you stop yourself just in time.

Eya hums into you, the vibrations making your legs twitch. You curl your fingers into the pillow, willing yourself to hold onto the fabric so you won’t reach for Eya again, and let yourself melt into the mattress.

Kyreya sighs and moans into you unabashedly, their strong fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh, prying your legs apart as they sink their tongue deeper inside you. Deeper and deeper, until you think you can feel them inside your belly. Their other hand stays right where it is, holding your breast, swiping one thumb over your nipple until you feel every tiny little touch go straight to your core. They do something with their tongue, the intensity of the feeling sweeping through your entire body. You could not describe it if anyone asked, that movement of their tongue inside you, but Maker- and then they do it again.

“Stars- fuck, Eya,” you groan, raising your head to look down at them, but as you do, their tongue vanishes from inside you, the sudden emptiness making you shudder.

“Hey.” Eya’s voice is a strict command coated in shimmering dark honey. “I said relax, princess. Would you rather sit up like this and watch?”

“I…” you trail off, biting your lip. “Yes, please. I wanna see you.”

Eya cocks their head in contemplation, then nods.

“Alright, if that’s what you want, you can sit up… yeah, just like that. Can you stay like this for me?”

“I- yeah. Yes, I can stay like this, if that means I get to watch you eat me out- Stars, Eya, you’re so beautiful.” You stroke along their tendrils with two fingers before tucking your hands into your sides again. “What you did earlier- gods baby, that felt so fucking good, what was that?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head with, it’s… something I picked up. Seems to work very well on… most species. Just relax into the sensation, yeah?” Eya smiles at you soothingly, their teeth glittering in the low light of your apartment.

You sigh deeply and nod.

“Okay.” You hesitate for a second. “Can I… can I talk? Like, talk to you while you eat me out?”

“Oh, darlin’, of course you can. I wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” Kyreya chuckles.

You open your mouth to respond, but your words turn into a moan when you feel their tongue sink inside you again. Eya does it again, that unspeakable thing that makes you see stars, then their tongue grinds against the walls of your pussy.

Your arms start to shake from the tension of holding your upper body upright, but you will be damned before you give up the heavenly view in front of you: Eya’s lips pressed against your pussy, the sliver of a pink tongue, the glitter of silver when their piercings catch the light.

They are beautiful, and the words come without having to think about them.

“Fuck, baby you’re so pretty- oh Maker, right there, that’s- fuck- Eya, gods, you are so good at this… fuck, you feel so good inside me, baby, wanna come on your pretty face, wanna see you just as ruined as I am- shit- f-fuck, do that again-”

You are babbling, you know you are, but you can’t help it. Words of praise keep falling from your lips as Eya continues fucking you with their tongue, bringing you right to the edge and keeping you suspended there. 

“Just like that baby, gods, you’re making me feel so good, you’re fuckin’- you’re amazing, I sh-shit, that- do that ag- oh! Oh fuck, please Eya baby, please, I wanna come, please let me come- f-fuck that feels so good, that’s- I love your mouth, never wanna let you go, just keep your tongue right there- fuck, that’s it… I’m right there, baby, I’m right there, I just need a little more, please just give me a little more, please, I wanna come…”

It feels like ecstasy is hovering just inches out of reach, it’s right there, right there, but you just can’t grab it.

“More!” you moan. “Fuck, more, please.”

Eya’s mouth vanishes from your pussy, the wet sound it makes when you disconnect making your cheeks burn.

“You want me to touch your clit, pretty girl? Yeah?” Eya sounds nearly as fucked out as you do, their husky voice even darker, raspier, and you wish to the gods you’ll never forget the sound of them as they make you cum.

“Fuck- yes, please, please touch my clit Eya baby, please- fuck!”

Your head lolls back when they bring two fingers to your clit, gently testing what you like before settling on small, smooth circles while their tongue teases your entrance. A deep ache starts to swell in your belly, the best kind of ache, the kind where you know what’s coming if they continue in this direction.

“Baby- baby, Eya, baby,” you mumble. “I’m close, I’m so close- I think I’m gonna-”

Eya pulls away, their fingers ceasing their movement. You whine, but they just shake their head in amusement.

“Hmm, little bit of edging never hurts, don’t you think? Makes it so much more intense… lets me taste you for longer. I can taste that sweet excitement, you know, that anticipation, that desperation on your skin, pretty girl and you… you are exquisite.”

One of their tendrils, the one that has wrapped itself around your thigh, creeps higher, reaching towards your pussy. The thought of it touching you there makes you shiver. Eya knits their brow at your reaction.

“What are you thinking about, princess?”

“I- uhh…” you trail off, not sure how to put into words what you were thinking. Your eyes flick towards the lilac tendril, so prominent against your skin, reaching towards the puffy lips of your cunt. “When you say you can taste it-”

“Oh.” Eya leans back, their tendril quickly unfurling from around your leg. Hastily, you stretch out your hand to place it on their cheek.

“I’m sorry,” they mumble before you can say anything. “I wasn’t thinking- like I said, they kinda go wherever feels goods, and-”

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t do that,” you admit quietly, cutting them off. “There’s no need to apologise. I don’t mind the… the tendrils. In fact, I really like how they feel. Like, really like it.”

“Oh?” Eya says again, but this time their eyes are glittering with excitement. “You don’t mind, then? I know they tend to get kinda close when I really get into eating someone out and you taste so good and-”

“I wouldn’t mind even if they ended up inside me,” you joke, smiling at them, soothing their knitted brow with your thumb.

Eya stares at you, their mouth hanging open.

“What?”

Oh fuck.

“I- nothing. Forget- forget I said anything,” you mutter.

“No, no. Are you serious about that? Would you let me…” Eya pauses, seemingly searching for the right words. “Would you let me taste you like that?”

You had been joking before, or at least you’d thought you were, but right now, their words go straight to your core. You can feel your pussy drip, your hips twitching at the thought of it. Something about feeling them inside you like that…

“Sweet Maker,” you breathe. Eya’s hand finds yours and squeezes.

“It’s okay if not, I just-”

“No,” you interrupt them. “I mean- yes. Yes, we can do that. Try it, at least. If you want to.”

You are stumbling over your words, and so are they, but it doesn’t matter. The thought of them inside you is enough to make you soak the sheets beneath you.

“Osik,” Eya exhales. “Okay- fuck, okay. I’ve not- I haven’t done that- haven’t been allowed to do that in… in a long time.”

“Will it feel good for you?” you inquire curiously.

Eya stares at you, then bursts into laughter.

“Oh, sweet girl. I- you remember how I reacted with just your hand around me earlier? Yeah? It’ll be like that, but hundredfold. It’s…” they inhale deeply. “It’s heavenly. It’s like a particular kind of high.”

“Oh!” You like the sound of that. “Then… yes, I would love to do that for you. Please. I’m… yeah, I’m more than willing to try that.”

“Maker, I- thank you.” Eya sits up for a second to press a gentle kiss to your belly. “I didn’t think I’d get to- fuck, just… thank you.”

You smile and interlace your fingers with theirs, placing featherlight kisses on their metal knuckles. Eya inhales sharply, their eyes burning into yours. They don’t extract their hand from your grip when they lay down between your thighs again.

“If it gets too much, you tell me,” they instruct earnestly. “Tell me, or squeeze my hand two times, okay? One squeeze tells me to go on, two tells me to stop. If you don’t like how it feels, or-”

“I’ll tell you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

You breathe in and out slowly, consciously relaxing into their touch. It’s not that you are not into it; you very much are. You would not have agreed if you weren’t. But still, it’s new, and it’s exciting but strange.

It starts slow. You sit up on your elbows, watching in fascination as Eya’s tendrils snake their way around your thighs, wrapping around once, reaching towards your dripping cunt.

“Are you doing that?” you ask quietly, curious about what the process is like for them.

Eya presses a kiss to the mound of your pussy before carefully propping their chin up to answer you.

“Kinda… they want to go there anyways, that’s where the pleasure is, that’s where you taste the best. But yes, I am… encouraging them, so to say.”

They pull back, winking at you before running their tongue through your folds. Your eyes fall shut as you push your hips up against their face.

“Mhh, greedy,” Eya mumbles, but they obey your silent command, sinking their tongue inside you once again. You moan, letting yourself fall into the sensation, getting lost in the pleasure of it.

A sudden touch makes your eyes fly wide open again. One of their tendrils is resting on your clit, gently pulsing against it. The sight of that alone is nearly enough to make you come; electric pleasure crackling down your spine. Eya moans into you, then visibly restrains themself to pull away and look up at you.

“You all good, pretty girl?”

“Yeah- fuck, yeah I’m all good,” you moan. Eya chuckles in response. 

“Good girl. You ready for more?”

You squeeze their hand.

“Yeah, I think I am. You feel… fuck, you feel really good, Eya. You make me feel really good, is it… how are you?” You have to laugh at your own strange choice of words. Kyreya joins in, their warm breath fanning across your skin that is soaked in your arousal.

“I’m doing fantastic, princess. You really are divine, I think I could lose myself in you all night… probably even longer if you let me.”

Placing little kisses on your inner thighs, they work their way around your pussy, teasing you, distracting you. You force your eyes to stay open, to watch, as the tendril that has been resting on your clit slips lower, gliding through your folds. It is a strange thing to watch, and if you were not so turned on, maybe you would feel odd about it. But right now, in this moment, you swear you have never seen anything hotter in your entire life. 

You lose yourself in the sensation, this new feeling of something gliding through your pussy, teasing you, the smooth skin providing friction for your throbbing clit. The tendril does not slip inside you, though. Eya just teases you.

You can feel them moaning into you, moaning against the flesh of your thigh. The thought of them feeling all that you feel right now, through this simple touch, turns you on more than any physical stimulation could, and you can’t hold your tongue.

“Hmm, that feel good, baby?” you purr. “You like that?”

Eya’s head raises to fixate you with burning eyes.

“Don’t tease me, princess. You know you feel good, osik- fuck- gods, mesh’’la, I would devour you whole if I could, you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, you f-feel so good, smell so good- pure fuckin’ desire- can taste it all, every little sliver of want- and gods, you do want, don’t you, you’re a fuckin’ greedy one… hmm kriffing- kyor’la haran, cyar’ika!”

Their voice breaks when you wrap your hand around their tendril, gently guiding it until the tip slips inside you. You moan at the sensation, and as does Eya.

“Fuck, baby,” you breathe.

The feeling of them inside you is… indescribable. It’s unlike anything you have ever felt before, neither better nor worse, just… different. “You- shit- y-you doing okay?”

Eya’s mouth is hanging open, their eyes fixed on where their tendril vanishes inside your gaping cunt. They don’t move, just take in the image in front of them, a blissed out expression on their face.

“Eya, are you alright?” you ask again, a little more impatiently this time.

“What?” Eya rips their eyes away from your pussy to look at you properly. “Fuck- yeah, I’m alright- more than alright actually… by Nephto, you feel f-fucking incredible. I never- good gods, I never want to leave your perfect pussy, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Hmm, good. You wanna… can you move?”

Eya looks at you for a beat before visibly pulling themself together.

“I- yeah.” Their voice is a little shaky, and it gives you an odd sense of accomplishment. You did that. You did that to them. “Yeah, I can move… just gotta- focus…”

Their tendril slips deeper inside you, and you cant up your hips to meet the movement. Eya inhales sharply at the feeling, and so do you, the velvet of their skin meeting the sensitive walls of your pussy.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” Eya whispers. “So wet, all just for me- fuck, you really want this, don’t you, princess? You need it.”

“Yes,” you admit. You have no defence, you do want it, and right now, you do need it, it feels too fucking good to give up. “Fuck yes, baby, I need this. Gods, Eya, you- you just-”

“I know, pretty girl,” they soothe. 

You let your head drop back when they lean forward to wrap their lips around your clit, gently sucking.

“Fuck!” Your voice breaks even in that single word, the combination of their tongue laving at your clit and their tendril slowly fucking you too much to bear.

Eya chuckles but keeps going, squeezing your hand as if to remind you that you can always back out. You squeeze back once, moaning and sighing as every nerve ending in your body focuses on the pleasure that erupts from your core.

Bliss floods every fibre of your being, Eya sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure as their tendril continues to curl inside you. One of your hands sneaks down to wrap around the tendril where it disappears into you. 

The sound that Eya makes when your fingers stroke along the tendril is… inhuman. Every ounce of desire is packed into that one noise, everything you have ever wanted or needed, and it is nearly enough to push you over the edge. It vibrates deep inside you, making your muscles flex and then melt. Your hand wraps tighter around the tendril as Eya speeds up the movement slightly, moaning into you with every stroke.

Mumbled words float around the room, but you can’t think, can’t speak- it’s so much, and so good, you can feel the ridges of them sliding against your tight walls.

“Gods, Eya,” you breathe. “Fuck-”

“That’s it,” they raise their head for a moment, breathing heavily, their face shining with your arousal. “That’s it, princess, tell me how it feels, tell me- wanna hear your voice, hear you moan and cry for me, hear you beg until you can’t speak anymore, wanna hear you go dumb with pleasure- f-fuck, tell me…”

You inhale shakily, your brain way too fuzzy to form coherent thoughts.

“Gods, Eya baby, I- how does anything feel this good, how do you- Maker, I never wanna feel anything else again- wanna stay like this forever, wrapped around you with your mouth on me, you f-feel so fucking good… Stars, I wanna come so bad, please baby, please tell me I can come, please, I’ll clean you up after, kiss your face until we can’t- can’t breathe, fucking lick your tendril clean, lick the taste of myself off of you- fuck!”

Eya makes that noise again, that noise that makes every inch of you fill up with a lust so deep you can’t think anymore.

“More,” they moan, then wrap your lips around your clit again.

“Wanna- fuck- wanna come around you, please tell me I can come, please Eya baby, I’m- fuck I’m gonna cum, gonna cum around you, feels so fucking good- so good, oh, please baby, please, please, please..”

You are not even sure what exactly it is that you are begging for at this point, tears running down your cheeks from pleasure. Eya pulls back for the fraction of a second, their disparate eyes burning so sweetly as they command you.

“You can come, pretty girl. Come for me.”

Your eyes fall shut as you rock your hips up to meet the thrusts of their tendril, their lips on your pussy. The tendril slips deeper with each thrust, stretching your cunt so deliciously, and you feel fuller than you ever have. 

Eya continues mumbling into you, their raspy voice reverberating in your core. Your entire focus fixates on the point where you are connected. Eya moans.

“Fuck- osik, princess, can feel it coming- you’re right there, right there, just like that, you gonna come from getting fucked like that? Yeah? You wanna come for me like this?”

Their tendril moves faster, rubbing against that spot, that perfect spot with each thrust. The tension in your core rises, coils up so tight you feel like you are about to burst.

Your hand grips theirs tighter as your muscles start to lock up, and then everything goes white with pleasure.

It erupts from deep inside you, shaking every bone in your body with its force, ripping through you and consuming everything in its path to leave only bliss behind. 

You feel the muscles in your core contract, and the sheets below you are suddenly damp, but you can’t think. It’s everything everywhere nothing nowhere never and always.

You can feel Eya moan, feel the bed shake as they grind against the mattress, but it is all just a mere background noise.

You lay there for a while, breathing only because you don’t have to think about it. Everything in your mind is empty, peaceful bliss while your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When you finally have the energy to open your eyes again, Eya is still laying between your legs, their head resting on your thigh, their eyes heavy-lidded.

You groan, unable to form proper words. Eya’s teeth flash as they tilt their head to look at you.

“Osik, darlin’, that was… certainly something.” They squeeze your hand, and only now are you made aware of the fact that your limbs are indeed all still attached to you. Your hand tingles.

“Can I… gotta slip out of you, sweetheart,” Eya mumbles.

“Mhm… mkay,” you yawn, floating in the limbo of the remaining pleasure that makes your body feel simultaneously featherlight and heavier than beskar. 

Something inside you moves, and only when Eya’s tendril slips out of you do you understand why they warned you. You feel empty. Overwhelmingly so.

A tear slips from the corner of your eyes and runs down your temple. You don’t notice it until strong arms wrap around you, pulling you against a muscular chest. You bury your face against Eya.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” they mumble. “It’ll pass… it’ll pass. I know it feels strange, it’s- it’s an aftereffect, I… I forgot about that. I should’ve warned you about it, I’m sorry.”

Ah. So it’s not your imagination that makes the loss feel so much worse than it usually does. That’s… somewhat calming.

“It’ll pass, I promise,” Eya whispers again. “It only lasts a few minutes, it’s… yeah. I know it’s rough, sweetheart.”

A singular coherent thought pushes its way to the forefront of your brain.

“D’you feel like that too?” you ask sleepily, pulling all your energy together to raise your hand and rest it on Eya’s cheek.

“Me?” They hesitate. “Well- I suppose I do, yes. I imagine it feels different on the giving end, but… yeah, I feel that loss too.”

“‘m sorry,” you mutter quietly. Eya laughs lightly.

“Don’t be. It’s worth it… worth it a million times over. You’ll be fine, I’ll be fine too.”

You can feel it start to wear off, that overwhelming feeling of loss giving way to the vague, pleasurable ache that you are used to. You sigh happily and scoot closer to Eya, wrapping your leg around their hip as best you can.

“I‘ll hold you, mkay?”

Eya laughs when you hide your face against their chest.

“We can… clean up later… ‘s fine.”

“Okay, princess. Whatever you want.”

You smile into them.

“Now you definitely gotta let me return the favour, because that was… fuck.”

Kyreya sighs, their hands wrapping around you to pull you closer, tendrils snaking around your shoulders to breathe in the quiet afterglow.

“Sure… some other time.”

You fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, and when the morning comes, there is no trace of them except a small piece of flimsi with their frequency hastily scribbled down, alongside a note.

Your move, princess.

───── ⋆⋅𑁍⋅⋆ ─────

Don't judge me y'all. It was gonna happen sooner or later.

@rescuethewretched @deewithani @thefact0rygirl @clonecyare @baba-fett @tenderclio @twistedstitcher27 @spaceydragons @maygalodon @samanthacookieone @fennccshand @equalityforcats @ashotofspotchka @levi-llama @fantastic-commander-fox @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi @lackofhonor @a-c-lee @imalovernotahater @ladykatakuri @solidago-sempervirens @meabravo @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @corrabell @bucketbunny @sharpbarnacle @snarwor @basilbumble @dear-fifi @dollydee28 @snakerune @rexscyarika @misogirl828 @stcrmhond @shadesofshatteredblue @tachyon-girl @damerondala @mando-amando @ficsbynight @fett-djarin @pinkiemme

#gala's ocs #oc eya #spice smuggling #nsft #monsterfucking cw #oc x reader #nb!oc x f!reader #star wars oc #nautolan!oc #eya x reader #eya x you

[bookwyrminspiration]

Your no spicy things post reminded me- are there ever any crunchy foods in the elvin world?

Okay I have gone through the food section of Unlocked to answer this question and have determined that there are crunchy foods in the elvin world, they're just very rare. And also like all sweets.

So the only food in Unlocked that I saw where the word crunchy was actually used in the description was custard bursts, which are "crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside" (p. 310). They're not 100% crunchy as they're got some signature elvin goo, but there are crunchy elements to it!

Then there's also two other desserts that aren't said to be crunchy, but that I'm assuming could be based on the descriptions. These include butterblasts, which is another situation where it's only partially crunchy. They have sugar crystals on the top that I assume have a nice crunch, but the rest are said to be doughnut texture. The second are indigoobers which are candy clusters, sounding like a hard candy shell situation. They could be more like gushers and therefore not crunchy, but I do think it's possible they're crunchy.

Finally there's umber leaves, which aren't necessarily crunchy but are crispy? Which is like a close second. At least I'm assuming they're crispy as they're dried leaves. I'm thinking they have a seaweed-like texture, which could be associated with crunch.

All that to say that there aren't really crunchy foods in their world! There's a few mentions here and there, but they do seem to be sticking close to the gooey and chewy family with everything they're doing. Even the nuts are warm and gooey. All we need to do to take them down is give them crunchy spicy foods and they'll be out. I'm personally voting for wasabi peas, but other suggestions are welcome :)

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc worldbuilding #quil's queries #solreefs #the unlocked list isn't an exhaustive list of all the foods in the elven world #like it doesn't mention the cheese fruit sophie had at exillium. or the sour puffy one she had in book one #but it does seem to cover enough to be a good judgement #hopefully this helps! #i don't know if I'd survive on sweet goop tbh #i love spice way to much #catch me smuggling in hot sauces #yes sandor the trip to the forbidden cities was necessary I was out of sambal #i don't care if the neverseen could've caught me I'd just give them a taste and they'd be dead it's fine

[moosalicious]

I feel like not enough people acknowledge the fact that Luke's aunt and uncle told him his father smuggled drugs for a living

#luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #star wars #aunt beru #uncle owen #spice #drugs #drug smuggling #my posts

[lino-nyangi]

help joo this reminds me of this meme:

I'm losing my shit at hyune's expression he'd br scandalized if he saw lee know's bubble dfghhj

also

ma'am you are under arrest for the provision of fics with the heat dosage over the limits deemed healthy for human consumption, leading to the direct spiritual evaporation of several citizens of stayville. you are also arrested under the charge of secretly spreading the minho agenda to the citizens of stayville.

(police minho is superior to the other minhos. change my mind.)

(ps hehe yes I posted it! it was fun to write something nonsensical and a result of a random ass thought :D I'm probably gonna try and write a few drabbles for fun if I have time or maybe I'll black out and wake up with another draft instead)

lmao "am i a shit dog?? 🥺" has me rolling everytime like the emoji SENDS me

also omg if it isn't my boss, who sent me on a mission to spread the lino agenda. now y'all are gonna think i'm arrested when in fact we're just going back to hq to fuck <3

#this made me giggle haha the arresting part #smuggling illegal amounts of spice in my fics

[airkewld]

New film just #Uploaded on #YouTube Link, in our story | Was #Spice #Smuggled in VWs back in the day? Is THIS how you smuggle DRUGS/Spice in a Classic Volkswagen? Possibly. https://youtu.be/43HCfRW1Dhs (at Airkewld) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkWC5JXJoAB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#uploaded #youtube #spice #smuggled

[luminnara]

Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Okay but imagine if the Creator's child was Kaveh's.

Out of literally everyone in the world and the creator bags the broke architect 🤭

Que Jessica Rabbit's 'he makes me laugh'.

He still lives with Alhaitham bc the idea of sharing a literal child with the creator but still getting locked out of your apartment is hilarious.

The creator had a the broke architect's child

Creative child

After your child is born with no distinctive features other than his blond hair the first one to know who your lover was is your own child

WC: 900~

To be 100% truthful I only thought about doing this for the iconic physical feature like neuvi, Diluc, etc but this was fun jsjs

“Morning, parental unit” your blond son stands on the door joining your library and the solarium in which you often humored visits.

“Morning, uhm, offspring?” Your hand reaches towards the book shelf without minding him, people said children his age find joy in speaking and behaving weirdly, and yours wasn't an exception, if his giggles meant something. 

“I heard you speaking with mister Diluc about visiting Sumeru”

“It's bad to eavesdrop” softly you chastise him but he pouts and stomps.

“I wanna go! You told me dad lives there, I wanna meet him”

“Shush! I told you that as our secret” you close the book you were skimming over but sigh as you see his yellow eyes “but last month when I told you to come for a festival in Sumeru but you didn't want to go”

“Because aunties Eula and Amber were going to teach me how to skyyyy” he whines the last word, already sensing you wouldn't want to take him there. 

“Bratty child” you groan “fine, if you manage to make up for the 4 days we will not be here with your tutor I will take you” and as you finish talking you hear him slamming the door shut and his bare feet hitting the floor as he runs away.

And, somehow, your usually mischievous child managed to work hard enough to make up for a few absences, or so said his tutor, who you still believed was under the spell of his puppy eyes, just like when he managed to smuggle two cats and a cryo slime.

“Karen, stay close, we have to go to the akademiya to check some paperwork and sit through some meetings” you grab his forearm, dragging him away from the colorful stained glass mobiles and the fluffy beasts carrying spices and fruit.

After a fair bit of bickering with every stand selling something he has never seen you manage to reach the akademiya, even if Karen was almost being dragged. 

Popping your head on the administration room you see a row of desks, a familiar face standing out amongst the sea of brown hair, a long gray hair standing up tall from his scalp.

Alhaitham is lounging in his desk, a book on one hand and a pen on the other, seeing him so calm makes you decide against bothering him and rather to ask one of his coworkers, even if you have to wait for a little bit while they finish transcribing as you chat them up, knowing it could be intimidating to have you stand silently besides them.

“C'mon let's just go to himmm, he looks like he is just lazing arounddd” Karen tugs on the bottom of your tunic but you ignore his little tantrum and keep asking the girl about the date she told you she will have after work.

Seemingly waiting for five minutes was too much of a waste of time that could be used to explore this nation. Sneaking silently behind you he stands before Alhaitham’s desk, but is ignored as he has his noise canceling earbuds and Karen isn't taller than the desk.

“Hey” he says, no answer “Heeeyy” no answer, now ticked off Karen slams his small hands against the thick wood board “HEY! STOP IGNORING ME” 

Alhaitham just peeks his head towards him, not hearing the noise but seeing his hands, but when he looks at him his annoyed look and yellow eyes seem too familiar.

He opens his mouth, eyes half closed as if he was thinking about something. 

Now noticing he was causing the ruckus you drag him by the armpits so he stops hitting the desk, as you start making Karen apologize you see Alhaitham's face. His eyebrows now almost up with his hairline and his green eyes uncharacteristically wide, but quickly he changes into a smirk as Karen apologizes for yelling.

“Please don't tell me it was-”

“Keep reading your book”

“Not my guest's bed~” he teases while grabbing his book, expecting the office to be calm again when the door slams open again, a blond huffing and puffing ready to face his housemate.

“YOU… how come you always grab my keys?! I couldn't enter the house for 2 hours!” to which al haitham tugs a set of keys out of his pockets and dangles three keys and a lion doll.

“Ugh, calm down. Why even wait 2 hours if you already know where I work?”

Under all their yapping you mumble something to your son “that is your dad” and you let a small promise to make both meet if he is busy, but after 5 ish minutes of bickering and the paperwork you needed snug in your hand it's obvious it will be quicker to just end this fight yourself. 

“Kaveh? Oh, hi, it's been so long” one of your hands falls on his shoulder, making him notice your presence “like 4 years ago?” You ask as you feel Karen hug one of your legs.

“oh, yeah, it's been so long” he laughs lightly, feeling suddenly bashful.

“It's a shame I was so busy I was just able to visit Sumeru, someone wanted to meet you” the flat part of your nail rakes through your son's hair.

“Huh?” He just now notices the kid behind you and his bright hair.

“Could you take care of him for a second? I have to finish a meeting and I should be able to meet you two”

“Yep! I will show him around and we can meet at the cafe, in sure we will have a lot to talk about”

Don't dare to run away so fast... Who allowed you to use my house like a motel

Hick!

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x y/n #genshin impact kaveh #sagau x reader #genshin impact headcanons #self aware genshin #for the record I used karen because of some mythology i found in Wikipedia but I think its meant to be used as a surname jsjs #if someone knows iranian mythology could fact check me #jsjs

[gingernut1314]

Little Game Pt. 2

Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader

Summary: Mihawk has found you once more after a month of hunting after you--a month of playing your little games. Found you in yet another poor excuse for a bar, except it seems you have forgotten all about your game. Forgotten and were dulling your usually sharp sense away with drink after drink. But Mihawk hasn't forgotten. Your game is still on and he plans on winning.

Tags: angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.9K

Setlist:

Emotions

I Wanted to Leave

A/N: I'm soooo sorry it's been such a long time! I'm in my last year of college and it's absolute hell on earth and the work is insane. Anyywway, there's no spice again, but I'm slowly getting there! I hope you all enjoy! 🩷

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ Part 1 | Part 3

Mihawk had traveled thousands of miles from his Marine-ravaged home. Had smuggled himself onto cargo ships and luxury vessels to get to island after island. Had begged to join the first pirate crew he could find so he might learn to sail and build his strength. Had begged on his knees, forehead bowed so low it had touched the ground with anger-fueled tears in his eyes to the first swordsman he could find to teach him the delicate art of the blade. 

Had begged on hand and knee to every swords master he came across to teach him. To help him draw closer and closer to that end goal he would do anything to achieve. 

He would become strong. Become the greatest swordsman the world had ever known and then he would lay waste to the Marines. He would spare them no mercy, just as they had spared his home no mercy. Just as they had spared his mother no mercy. 

It was a goal--no, a vow bound by blood and death herself that led him here to this small island. An island covered in ancient, towering trees. An island home to a secluded and unknown people. Home to the greatest swordsman of a long-ago era. A swordsmen who had lived 180 years and had never lost a fight. 

His yellow eyes scanned the dark wood he had been warned was full of monsters--devils waiting to tear any traveler brave enough to enter its thick, fog-filled brush. His last master had warned him many men had gone in looking for the great swordsman to learn from him, just as Mihawk, but they never reached his log cabin at its center. They had hardly stepped foot into the wood before its guardian attacked. 

Mihawk calmly stated he would be the first to make it. Would face this Guardian of the Wood and all its devilish monsters and win. He would find the great swordsman and prove to him he was worth his teachings.

The forest hardly looked dangerous. Especially when he spotted the yellow-gold petals of marigolds that he could see littered the leaf-covered floor. 

No monster in sight. No devil. No Guardian. 

Mihawk placed his hand over the hilt of his sword at his side and started into the dark forest. Had just passed a rather large bunch of marigolds when someone landed on the ground before him, having hopped down from their spot amongst the treetops. 

Mihawk scolded himself for not having spotted the figure, knowing he would have seen them had he not been so preoccupied thinking about devils. The tip of a naginata pressed into his chest.

“Are you a pirate?” The voice that came from the figure was silky and calm, yet held dark danger within its melody. It was a voice unlike any other Mihawk had heard and its wielder was just as rare. You looked like some wood nymph. Like the mystical yet deadly creatures Mihawk had heard sung on the lips of pirates and sailors alike come to life. 

“I am here for Rivers Achilles.” You frowned deeply, that sharp blade never leaving Mihawk's chest. He looked you over carefully. Looked over your well-trained stance, one only gained from practice and patience Mihawk knew all too well. Took in the fact you must be around Mihawk’s own age of fourteen. No. He could tell you were older. A year--maybe two. 

“Do all you pirates have a monthly meeting to discuss such originality?” Mihawk narrowed his eyes the slightest bit. Watched your eyes spark like you enjoyed his small reaction. 

“I do not have time to waste on some dirt-smug girl.” Mihawk saw you were hardly dirt smugged. You were pertinently clean as if you had washed before climbing up into that tree. He said it to snuff out that spark of enjoyment you had gotten from baiting his temper. An anger he was slowly training himself to wrangle away. “Now. Move before I move you.” 

You laughed. A small thing that grew into an all-out bellow. It was a laugh that matched your darkness. Your rareness. It had Mihawk blinking, as if stunned at its sound.

“You step another inch in my wood, pirate, and I will break your nose.” You threatened, that dangerous tone laying in the background of your voice pooling thick like venom to its forefront. It was--intoxicating to hear. A sound Mihawk wanted to drag from you again and again. 

“Are you the Guardian of the Wood?” Your shoulders rose and pride swelled in your eyes.

“If you have heard of me then you have heard of what I have done to many a pirate such as yourself. I make them disappear--vanish them from the face of the earth.” Mihawk watched you slowly. A slowness that sparked anger in your eyes. 

It was an anger that Mihawk knew too well. An anger that matched his own in intensity and fury like some twin flame. Someone had hurt you--had taken someone from you, just as those Marines had taken his mother. Had left you feeling so weak and empty it left that anger to fester and grow out of control in you, just as it had in him. It was an anger he wanted to lash out at. One he wanted to direct his own anger at. 

“I thought you would be--” He paused, letting his eyes roam over your body again in a bored manner. “--more.” That fiery anger flared brightly. Had your knuckles going white wrapped as tightly as they were around the staff of your naginata. “How disappointing to find you are just some feral, dirt-covered girl.” Oh yes--yes there it was. Such anger. Anger to match his own. Anger that would rival him like none other ever could.

Mihawk had hardly seen you move before you were bringing the staff of our naginata to ram into his nose. A sickening crunch sounded in Mihawk's ears as pain flared in his face, nearly blinding him. 

A pain that blinded him from seeing you move to kick him hard in the chest, sending him flying out of the woods and back onto the black sand of the beach he had just landed on near minutes ago. 

His anger flared then, but he could only blame himself. He had been distracted by your own anger. By your dangerous voice and your rare beauty. Stupid, idiotic distractions on his part. 

“A runt such as yourself should know his place.” You hissed as Mihawk shoved himself to his knees, wiping the blood from under his broken nose as he laid his yellow eyes on you once more. Found you had left the darkness of your wood and stopped before him looking like some vengeful goddess fallen straight from the heavens. “My father does not wish to waste his time training the likes of pirates. Weak pirates such as yourself, runt.” 

Your father was Rivers Achilles--yes, it made sense now. Your rarity made sense. Your strength and skill. Your father was no ordinary man, therefor his offspring would be just as inordinary--spectacular. 

“I am no runt and I am not weak. I will pass you. I will bow before Achilles and he will train me.” Mihawk declared, cold sea water spraying at his dark leather boot-covered feet. “Your little game will do nothing to stop me from becoming the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen.” 

That excited spark flashed in your icy eyes again. A spark that flickered and twirled with your anger. A wicked, cat-like grin crossed your face--a grin that was so stunning it nearly stole Mihawk's breath away--did steal it.

“Game on.” 

Mihawk had been tracking you for a month now. A month longer than he liked, but you never gave up the chase. Never slowed or stopped long enough for Mihawk to grab hold of you. All he ever saw of you was the trail of perfect chaos you left behind. 

He had followed you through the North, South, East, and West Blues. Had followed you into the Grand Line, full of all its dangers, and back, only to follow you right back into its mysterious waters. And just when he thought he had caught up to you, would have you within his grasp, you had disappeared like smoke between his fingers. 

Despite how long his pursuit of you had taken, he found it excited him. Had him looking forward to the coming dawn, something he had long ago started to dread. 

He assumed it was because you excited him--had always kept him on his toes. You were a rare woman. One that had always challenged him in skill and wit--that matched him as perfectly as one could match another. 

Part of him wished you would just give in. Come with him back to Kuraigana Island and let him indulge you in every luxury he had ever wanted to give you. It was a foolish wish, but one he held regardless. One he knew would never come true unless he won this little game of yours. 

A game you seemed to have forgotten for the night, because here you were, in another run-down, dirty, overcrowded bar on some backwater island in the Grand Line, drunk out of your mind. It was unlike you, to be this careless. Not when it came to your games--when Mihawk was playing them just as you had wanted. 

But there you were, downing the last of your beer, hardly grimacing at the taste as he knew you usually would, too drunk to even taste it. There you were, looking so--exhausted. It was an exhaustion Mihawk knew too well--that weight heavy on his shoulders as it seemed to do you. An exhaustion that had Mihawk pausing. Almost had him leaving this too-small bar and all its too-drunk inhabitants. 

Almost. 

A drunk man bumped into Mihawk with a slurred apology, but he hardly heard it. Hardly even felt the pathetic man running into him. Not when he was so close to you. Not when he was so close to winning the game you had started. 

“Why is it you continue to frequent such nightmarish establishments?” Mihawk's voice should have had you sobering up. Should have had you scrambling to escape back out to sea and leave him and this island far behind. But his voice--so smooth and calm and utterly bored had you tingling in excitement. 

You had missed his all-too-calm dementor. Had missed him, his face, and his stupid hat. 

On a small hiccup, you turned to look up into those piercing yellow-gold eyes you had missed the most. Eyes you wished you could look into forever.

With your thoughts fogged nicely thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed, you had no embarrassment or strength for good decision-making when you placed your palm over top of his hard-earned abs. The warmth of his skin seeped into your freezing fingers as you ran them over his skin. 

“Mi-hic-hawk.” You purred up at the unamused man, all but fighting against your hiccups. You flashed him a sly grin. “How’d you find me?” You slurred horribly. 

“You are being sloppy.” You hummed as you brought your other hand to run along his skin, taking in his warmth and power that all but radiated off of him in dangerous waves.

“You always know just how to--hic-- sweet talk a girl.” You said, running your hands around his waist, where they disappeared under his dark jacket. Where they felt the equally as strong muscles lining his lower back. “Say something mean to me again, Mihawk. Pretty--hic--please.” 

Mihawk blinked down at you for a single moment before swiftly removing your hands from his body. You pouted, going to grab for him again, but he brushed you off once more. “Stop.” You whined pathetically, “You’re being mean.” 

“You asked me to mean,” Mihawk said the fact simply in that overly bored manner he hid behind. With a huff, you stopped your attempts at touching him and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I didn’t say sh-hic-oo me away.” 

“You are drunk, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes dramatically, turning back around on the bar stool you sat on to find the bartender again. 

“And you’re not. It’s --hic-- boring.” You hissed as the bartender came over. “I will have your finest beer and my --hic-- best friend will have your oldest wine.” The woman’s eyes darted to Mihawk making you fix her with an icy glare. Her eyes looked a little too long in Mihawk's direction. Had looked over his face and body for too long. “Don’t look at him. I can only look at him.” She was quick to snap her eyes away, her face going pale in utter fear.

“Y-yes ma’am. We-we only have a red blend from a year ago.” You sighed.

“He will deal with it.” 

“Y/N, we are leaving,” Mihawk said as the woman rushed off. You gave another dramatic sigh, turning back to face him. Those yellow-gold eyes had never once left you and you couldn’t help but enjoy being in their sights. 

“Mihawk, we are--hic--not. I just ordered.” He continued to look unamused. Continued to fix you with his own sharp stare. One that never quite seemed to overpower your own. “Is it because I ordered you bad wine?” 

“Bad wine or not we are leaving.” You narrowed your eyes up at him. Narrowed them so sharp you willed them to cut him open. 

“It’s my--hic--day off. If you are going to be a party pooper then you should --hic-- leave.” It was the exact opposite of what you wanted him to do, but you had landed on this island to get drunk. So drunk you would hopefully wake up with dark spots in your memory.

“I will. With you.” He insisted. You rubbed your eyes roughly, that exhaustion you had come here to escape returning with a vengeance. 

“You are such an --hic--asshole.” 

“Poetic.” Mihawk monotoned. You hissed, yanking your hands away from your face and flinging them up in the air.

“I’m drunk, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Leave me be.” Your beer was placed before you and you were quick to scoop it up. The bad glass of wine went untouched by Mihawk. “Do you want to know --hic-- something?” You asked the bartender who hesitated. Hesitated and stayed after you fix her with your icy glare once more. “This--hic-- guy acts all tough but really --hic-- he wants to leave because all these people are making him--hic--itchy. He’d rather just sit on his pert little ass in the dark.” You said, a giggle leaving your lips. 

The bartender’s eyes darted back to Mihawk and you slammed your fist on the countertop, making the glasses rattle and the bartender nearly jump out of her skin. “I said don’t look at him.” You watched her chest heave up and down in fear as you took a long sip from your beer. “Talking about pert little asses. Mihawk once ran naked--”

“Enough, Y/N.” Mihawk all but commanded you, making you tense. It was a command you bristled at--made your anger begin to heat in your chest rather quickly. Too quick for you to grab hold of and control, especially when you were this drunk. “We’re leaving.” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck the Marines and --hic--fuck you again.” You hissed, standing from your stool only to nearly fall off it in the process. Mihawk stayed planted in his place, even when you ran into him during your oh-so-graceful fall. “You can’t tell me what to--hic--do.” 

“You are stumbling around like a no-good drunkard. Collect yourself.” You stomped your foot and pushed Mihawk with another hiss like some child. The swordsman hardly seemed to even feel your attack. A fact that had you seething and going to do it again, but he grabbed your wrists in a tight hold. “Enough.” He commanded again. You yanked against his grip but it stayed strong. 

“Let me go.” You hissed at him, yanking again. 

“We are leaving. Whether you do so on your own two feet or I carry you out makes no difference to me.” Your anger surged in your chest. Surged in defiance at his orders. You were not one to be ordered around. Especially by him. 

“You will unhand me this instant or I will--hic--break your nose.” Something flashed in Mihawk's golden eyes. Something--sad. A sad that called to your own sadness which had been welling and pooling within your chest for years now. Pooling to the point of near flooding. A flood you resorted to drinking to dam it up. 

Mihawk’s grip around your wrists fell, but he made no sign of leaving. Made no sign of moving a single muscle from his spot before you. Made no sign of giving up on his declaration of leaving this bar with you in tow.

In your drunken state, you thought this was a perfect opportunity to draw your black blade, which you had left uncovered at your hip. You swung, your muscles moving on near memory, at the frustrating swordsman before you, causing the bartender and a few people around you to scream out in fear. 

Mihawk sidestepped your attack and before you could blink, your sword was skillfully pulled from your grasp and you stumbled forward with a roar. “Give it--” Your words were cut off by a yelp as Mihawk grabbed you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder. 

Your right shoulder hit Yoru’s hilt painfully and you had to quickly throw your hands out to stop your face from colliding with the black blade strapped to his back. Mihawk wrapped an iron-like arm around your thighs to keep you in place before starting for the exit.

Your vision blurred from the sudden movement, but it didn’t stop you from pounding on Mihawk’s powerful back and kicking your feet as best you could in your weak attempt to escape. His hold on you never lessened, only seeming to tighten in your struggle. 

“Let me go, Mihawk!” You shouted, pulling yourself up enough to try to catch of glimpse of his face, only for his stupid hat to hit you in the face. You gave a frustrated little growl. “This is not fair! I’m drunk!”

“Drunk or not, you started the game. I plan on finishing it.” You huffed in frustration, punching his back once more to no avail. 

The bar fell away and soon you were being carried through the night-filled streets of the backwater village you had found. You continued to fight against his hold until your stomach stirred nauseously and your vision blurred to the point you could hardly see. 

With a pathetic moan, you let your body go limp against his back, your body bouncing with every graceful step he took. It only made your nausea grow, but you were too dizzy to do anything about it. 

“Tire yourself out?” Mihawk asked something like amusement finally filling his smooth voice. 

“I’m going to vomit all over your fancy little sword.” You murmured, making the man sigh deeply through his nose. 

“Are you serious?” You moaned, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your world spun and blurred around you as Mihawk dragged you off his shoulder, a movement that only had that bile rising sharply and your mouth filling with hot spit. You were placed on your feet, but your knees gave out with little warning. Tiny rocks dug into the flesh of your palms and into your kneecaps. 

You cursed, taking deep breaths of the chill night air, hoping to settle your upset stomach. Maybe you had overdone it on the drinks--but unfortunately for you, this is what you had set out to accomplish, and sober you knew she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nastiness. 

You had just opened your mouth to relieve your aching stomach when strong hands collected your hair away from your face. Hands that held your hair in a manner so soft you hardly felt it. You vomited before you could think much more on whose hands were holding your hair up. 

“Why were you in that bar, Y/N?” Mihawk asked, voice low and so--gentle. As gentle as the man could make it seem. You huffed in and out deeply, catching your breath.

“Why do most people go to --hic -- bars? To get drunk.” You hissed as best you could between breaths. Bile rose in your throat and your stomach rolled once more. Gods--

“Yes,” He sighed, annoyed at your comment. “But you don’t go to bars to get drunk. Not when you are set on a task. Not ever.” You huffed a moan before throwing up once more. 

“I’ve changed.” You huff out, catching your breath once more. Mihawk was quiet behind you. A quiet that ate at you more than you wished to admit. Your vision blurred again. But it was a blur that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the tears welling in your eyes. 

You had drunk too much. Way too much if it was bring you to tears. Tears you could do nothing about to control, not in the state you were currently in. Not when the man making you cry was behind you, holding your hair like there was nothing wrong between the two of you. Like you were back on your home island, stealing alcohol from your father and sneaking off to the only bar on the whole island. 

Your home. Your father. Your forest. All gone. Just like that in the blink of an eye. How had it happened? How had you let it happen? You had been your home's Guardian, just as your mother before you, and her mother before her. It had been your job, your responsibility to protect it from such dangers. 

It had been your life's purpose and you had failed. Failed and lived. Lived when you should have died protecting it.

“Y/N--” Mihawk started, but you swatted his hands away as you turned your body away from your puke. You buried your face in your hands to keep the swordsman from seeing your tears. From seeing your weakened and broken state. 

“Leave me be. Please.” You all but begged. Gods you were pathetic. So far from the proud and strong person you had once been in your youth. So old and angry and tired.

“I’ve seen you at your lowest. Some sick and a few drunken tears are hardly going to deter me.” He said on a sigh like you should have already known that. 

You pulled your face from your hands to glare at him where he knelt behind you. To tell him to leave on a venomous hiss--to throw insults his way, but his hand disappearing into his jacket pocket caught your eye. It reappears with a golden hair clip, diamonds sparkling in the lamp lights as he showed it to you. 

“That’s my--” You started in disbelief. 

“You forgot it on my ship when you left.” He said, handing it to you. You took in gently in your hands and before you could even begin to process everything, his hands were in your hair once more. He gently pulled and twisted it, mimicking how you had done your hair a million and one times before without so much as a thought of his ever-watchful gaze. His free hand plucked the golden clip from your hand and nestled it securely in your hair. 

He had kept it. Had not only kept it, but had kept it on his person. Kept it close and ready to use if you ever needed it once more. 

When he was done, you turned to stare bug-eyed up at him, tears still refusing to halt their endless fall. Calm. He was always so calm. A calm that frustrated you and grated on your nerves to no end, but was such a familiar, comforting presence. A presence you had yearned to be around more than you yearned to hunt down every last Marine you came across. 

Hesitantly, he reached for you. So hesitantly he gave you enough to slap him away, but you made no move to do so. Made no move to stop him as he brushed your tears away with his thumb. 

His touch sent your eyes watering all over again. His touch and his actions were so gentle and kind and so utterly unfair. So unfair because you couldn’t give in. Not now. Not for a long, long time. 

Gods how you wanted to give in. 

“I can’t--I can’t go with you.” You said in a low, grave tone. Mihawk brushed his thumb over your cheek once more before pulling away, making you feel that cold aloneness you had been trying to chase away with drink. He gave the slightest of nods. 

“I know.” He said just as lowly, his face seeming to harden further. You watched him grab your black blade, which he had placed on the ground beside him. He resheathed it at your side skillfully and reached for you again, grabbing you under your arms and lifting you to your feet. You swayed like a great gust of wind had blown into you, your drunkenness having yet to wear off. 

Mihawk hardly made a single sound before he was lifting you off the ground once more. Made no sound as he prompted you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You did so without much thought, the action having been memorized by your body.

It was something the two of you had done many times over the years, whether it be you clinging to his back or front. Whether it be because you were too drunk or injured to walk, you would cling to him and he would hold you tight. It was something he had grumbled endlessly about the first few times you’d insisted upon it, but had slowly grown used to it to the point he would pick you up as such without your prompting. 

Your eyes catch his own briefly. Eyes so bright they were like the sun. A sun your soul begged to orbit one more, but your pride beat it down. Had you looking away and placing your cheek on his shoulder, taking his rose and expensive cologne scent deep into your nose so that you might hold on to it for that much longer.

Mihawk felt like a teenager again, holding you like this. It was--refreshing, though if anyone of importance saw him in such a way, there was sure to be trouble. But for now, in this small village in the middle of the Grand Line, he could get away with it. Could hold you close and keep your seemingly ever-cold body warm. 

He had marked where your ship was docked before he had ever docked his own, so finding it again was hardly a chore. 

Your ship was just a tab bit larger than his own, still designed for a single crew member to sail, but large enough for a much more spacious sleeping quarters and kitchen. That had been something you had complained about endlessly when having sailed with him on his own ship. 

He readjusted his hold on you so he might open the door that led to the inner workings of your ship. It was neat and tidy, just as his own was, though the walls covered in numbers and markings were unlike anything on his own ship. 

They were Marine branch numbers, ones you had come across during your journeys. Underneath each number were tally marks which he assumed represented how many ships you had destroyed flying those same numbered flags. The branches you had completely whipped off the face of the earth he found were crossed out. 

It was impressive how many Marines you had wielded your perfect chaos against. Impressive and worrisome because he knew as the number grew, the more you would be noticed. And the more you are noticed, the more likely it was they would send another one of the Warlords to slaughter you. 

Garp had warned him of this the last time they spoke. Had commanded Mihawk to get you under control or you would be spared no mercy. It was Mihawk's first and final warning to stop you before you got yourself killed. 

And as much as Mihawk wanted to take you away to his new home, to keep you out of the prying eye of every last Marine and pirate that sailed the seas, he knew he needed to wait. To play your game and win it, or there would be no victory. No having you back by his side. 

You had fallen asleep sometime during the walk, so you made no fuss as Mihawk placed you in bed. You merely grumbled something in your sleeping state as he pulled your boots off and took your sword from your side, propping it against the wall.

He watched you for a long moment. Watched your softened features as you slept. 

So rare. You were too rare to let go. To give up on and allow to die. You were Mihawk’s twin flame. A flame he would fight and die for if given the chance. You were the only person alive he would truly bend to. 

And bend he did by letting you go. By playing your little game. A game he vowed to win the right way.

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#mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #mihawk x Y/N #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x Y/N #one piece #opla #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #dracule mihawk opla #dracule mihawk one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule “hawk eyes” mihawk #hawk eyes mihawk #little game #divider by saradika graphics #divider by saradika

[flamingpudding]

Camping Trips

A/N: Schools Summer Vacation is starting where I live and even tho I don't get to enjoy that anymore, it gave me the idea for this prompt :D If anyone wants to use it please do but... uhm please tag me then? I am so curious what other ideas fanfic writers could come up with for this. Thank you! And happy Vacation time to everyone that gets to enjoy it!

Camping.

Its concept was the bane of existence for some teenagers and kids while others very much enjoyed that type of vacation. Danny belongs to the type that enjoys this type of vacation. Because going camping used to mean his parents were not stuck in the lab but would pay some attention to Jazz and him. It meant that for once ghosts weren't the most important things to his parents. It meant a literal break.

So when his parents told Jazz and him about a camping trip they were planning he was at first excited. Maybe it would be like the trips they used to go on. Something to remember, roasting marshmallows, fishing, exploring the woods. A change from everything that had become normal.

That was until he arrived at the scene at the camping place and his parents set up a mobile laboratory and various security measures to protect Jazz and Danny from any possible ghost attacks. Just because they weren't in Amity Park right now, didn't mean some ghost scum wouldn't try anything to harm them, or at least that was what his dad said.

Danny had flinched and backed away from his parents that were busy setting up a laboratory instead of a tent and sighed. His eyes roamed around the other camping spaces and landed on the only other people that appeared to want to use this place for a vacation spot. He was not jealous of how normal their camping space looked with just tents, mobile hammocks, campfires, standard camping equipment and no good damn ghost-hunting equipment or mobile laboratory.

Was it too much to ask for just one normal camping trip from his parents like these people had?

Dick had just wanted to give his siblings some form of normality for once. Vigilante life was tiring and one could easily lose sight of what was normal. So he suggested a family vacation to Bruce to mend that overlooked problem. Bruce hadn't liked that idea at first too but after Tim fell asleep in his breakfast 4 times in a row because he pulled several all-nighters to work on cases and Duke had a near panic attack realizing he had forgotten about an exam and Damian smuggled 9 blades into school because he got annoyed with his teachers all in one week… the man agreed more easily to Dick's vacation idea. Even more so when some of his siblings even mentioned they never had gone camping before.

It had taken some convincing but the eldest Wayne son even managed to get Jason on board. And Alfred gladly pushed them all out of the Manor if it meant Bruce would not be working for at least one week. So come to school vacation time and they all packed up going to some remote camping place for a NORMAL vacation. He was even going to convince everyone to lock away their phones and laptops for the duration.

Well… Dick glanced at the only other occupied space and blinked. That was not normal, was it? The other spice looked like these people had jumped straight out of a SiFy Movie, they were setting up a laboratory! And the adults were wearing hazmat suits! He saw how something green started glowing over there and distinctly but quietly because of the distance he heard machinery starting to hum over there. The man in the orange hazmat let out a boisterous laugh telling something to a girl and a boy that looked dressed normally. The boy then backed away from what he assumed were their parents with clear wariness in his eyes before looking over into their direction with what Dick assumed was envy.

The eldest of Wayne children wanted to ignore the familiar green Color or the yellow tanks that looked like they had a certain green liquid in them. If that was what he was highly suspecting then they would need to investigate these other campers. After watching the other people a little longer and seeing even more suspicious equipment that appeared to be powered by the green liquid, he put his head in his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

Oh for the love of… they were supposed to have a vacation, not investigate what could be a mobile Lazarus Water research site! His head instantly snapped out his siblings hoping that they had not yet noticed and that maybe he could convince them to go to another lake to set up far away from what would set off ALL of their detective instincts. He could put a tracker on these people and return to that case AFTER their vacation was over. But no!

It was too late, he saw Tim's eyes watch the other space with open curiosity and narrowed eyes, Damian and Bruce were watching with wariness but keeping up a cover as they poked around in a campfire, Cass also tilted her head in curiosity before also turning back to the tent she was setting up as cover and the only one who appeared to not care at all was Jason but Dick could see the way he peeked over the book he was reading at the other occupants.

Damit, was it too much to ask for one normal vacation?

#prompt idea #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #fanfic #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #camping #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover #What would it be like if these two groups meet during a camping trip #Danny is envious of how Normal the bats vacation appears to be #the bats end up continuing workmode instead of enjoying a vacation #Dick just wanted a normal vacation #Danny wanted one too #Looks like both won't get one #batpham

[oph3liatlou]

Heyy,

I‘d love to request a Haymitch x reader fic! Just something wholesome. Some bullet points for the context:

-age gap

-she falls first he falls harder

-enemies to friends with benefits to lovers

-maybe a tiny bit of spice

The rest is totally up to you!!!

— PAST EMOTIONS

@mariechristine00

pairing(s) - soft!haymitch x recovering!fem reader

word count - 801

warnings - mentions of sex (past tense), light bickering, age gap (haymitch is 42 & reader is 27), implied situations.

proofread? - yes.

note from author - why did his flirting make me giggle 🤭 ???

summary - you were rescued from the capitol along with other victors - haymitch is your first visitor and you're happy to see him.

“You don’t happen to have any alcohol on you, do you?” Haymitch asked. He was your very first visitor since you had been brought to District 13 - along with Peeta, Johanna, and Annie. You considered Haymitch as a friend, of sorts…though you two didn’t get along when you first met.

I smile gently when you saw Haymitch was your first visitor. you were definitely happy to see a friendly face. “You think I’d be able to smuggle something like that in?”

“You’d be surprised.” He said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “How’d your visit with Coin go?” He asked, now stepping into your room.

“Haven’t gone yet.” You shook your head. “She thought I’d be in the same shape as Peeta.” And this was true, Coin had said that you should get your rest.

Haymitch seemed to find your words amusing, chuckling slightly before sitting in a nearby chair. "How are you feeling?" He asked, in a much kinder tone than that of how he spoke to you before. He didn't seem like the type to care about other victors' welfare - but he was much more attentive to you since your rescue.

This out-of-character nature seemed to confuse you when you pointed that out to him. "Since when have you started being so nice?"

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow as if he just found your question amusing. "You're not in a condition to be picking fights, are you?"

You scoffed. You two always had this banter going on with eachother but - the tension was released the few times you had slept together.

His grey-blue eyes met yours. "Besides..." He continued. "I've always been nice. To you."

You chuckled at his comment. "No, you haven't. We hated eachother when we first met."

His smirk grew at the mention of your first meeting. He looked as if he had remembered something that amused him greatly - though he kept it to himself. "Maybe, but even then...couldn't deny the chemistry, could we?" He asked.

You gave him a side glance with a soft chuckle. "I wanted to smack you in the face the first time we met - if you wanna call that chemistry..."

"And I would've loved every second of it," He said, his smirk growing. "You have to admit, the physical tension..." He trailed off, hoping you'd finish the sentence.

You smiled looking up from your eyebrows. You had been tracing designs on the blankets of your rather uncomfortable - recovery bed. "I know." You mumbled like a child would have.

"And the times - when we acted on it..." He let his sentence linger again, trying to get you to look over at him - which you eventually did. The playful smile on his expression seemed to indicate that he really did remember - quite clearly - the intimate times you two had spent together.

You met his eyes again and shook your head gently. This wasn't something you wanted to talk about now - especially since boundaries had been set beforehand.

"C'mon. You're telling me you don't remember? I certainly do..." He teased, getting up from his chair and sitting beside you on your bed. "We might've decided not to take it any further, but we both enjoyed every second of it, didn't we?"

You found yourself sighing. "Maybe we should've taken it further." You realized why you had agreed with him on the initial arrangement - you knew there was a chance that you could've been killed since you were helping the rebels. But now you were safe and recovering in the underground of District 13.

His smile grew again at this - it seemed that he had been secretly hoping the same thing this entire time. "I couldn't agree more." He admitted, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a small side hug. "It's not too late..." He murmured, brushing your hair off your cheek and leaning closer to you.

You looked at him softly. "I'm not too young for you?" You joked gently. You were much younger than him, maybe by 15 years or so.

Haymitch smirked in response to your question. He mimicked your joking tone. "I think you're old enough to make your own decisions. Wouldn't you?" He whispered, his voice tinged with arousal as he moved his head closer to yours. His warm breath lightly brushed against the side of your face - as a chill seemed to travel up your spine.

You nodded with a gentle smile. "The age difference doesn't bother me..."

His lips met yours softly, before he pulled you even closer to him. You felt his warm body pressed against yours as his hand started to softly caress you hair. He broke away from the kiss with a soft laugh. "God, I've missed you."

You smirked gently. "Show me how much you've missed me-" You paused. "I'll close the door."

read my merged works here!

#writing #reqs open #request #oneshot #headcanon #smut #the hunger games #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2 #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch

[galacticgraffiti]

I NEED TO SUCK THEM FAT FETT TITS (you know who this is)

i remember getting this ask after i think the first episode of TBOBF and immediately thinking “i actually have no idea who the fuck this is, this could be any number of y’all thirsty whores [affectionate]”

i still do not know who this is tbh, but alas, worshipping booba’s beautiful tiddies would be so much fun

some spice under the cut so minors fuck off

you’d be riding him, his cock buried so deep inside you that it feels like he’s everywhere all at once

but instead of him sitting up, you’d push him back until he laid down, and bend down to kiss his chest while you bounce on his cock

he’d try to sit up again but you’d just shake your head and soothe him, kissing him quickly before wrapping your lips around his nipple and sucking

he’d moan - he would be too surprised to hold it back

and when you asked him if everything’s okay, he wouldn’t respond, just push your head down until you continued playing with his tits

you could suck on them, leave little marks on them, love bites, bruises, cup them, hold them

kiss him in between and tell him how beautiful he looks like this, how much you like feeling his cock twitch inside you every time you run your tongue over his pebbled nipple

“you’re so sensitive for me, baby. so pretty like this, moaning for me while i take your cock, you fucking love this, don’t you? you could’ve asked me, oh baby how i would have loved to do this earlier, worship your perfect tits with everything i have until you come for me.”

#:)))) #having THOTS #yes this would be fun #galas requests #anon request #gala answers #spring cleaning #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba x reader #boba x you #spice smuggling

[denaliwrites]

Cuddle, Meet Puddle

The Doctor x GN!Reader

Summary: From the prompt, "if you wanted cuddles, you could have just asked."

Warnings: None.

Requests: Open!

It had been a day. Really, every day with the Doctor was a day, but this one had steadily escalated from the baseline the two of you had established to whatever the actual Hell this was.

To think, this morning had started with you grabbing Starbucks in the year 8062 (and honestly it had been no surprise to you to find Starbucks still around that far into the future). By the evening, the two of you had taken down a galaxy-spanning pumpkin spice smuggling ring.

"It's not even that good," you whined as you finally stepped into the TARDIS, legs just about ready to give out.

The Doctor was behind you, beaming with amusement, yet hands hovering near your waist and ready to catch you in the event you did actually collapse.

"Well," he started, hands still precariously close to touching you, "pumpkins go extinct in 6494." Apparently satisfied you weren't going to drop dead, he finally left you to go fidget with the console. "People will go to great lengths for the luxury of rare and priceless artifacts."

"An artifact you're just going to drink in your morning coffee," you sighed as you followed him to the console.

Just as you arrived, he flopped down into the chair beside the console. Without missing a beat, you changed course and easily flopped into his lap, and you quickly became a limp puddle of boneless flesh atop him (that's how it felt, anyway). You heard a soft oof come from behind and somewhat below you, but you were too tired to care too much.

He was fine, anyway.

Always fine, the Doctor.

Languidly, you moved into a more comfortable position, nuzzling into his warmth and wrapping an arm around his waist to keep you anchored. A happy fog began clouding your mind, drifting you off to unconsciousness.

"You know," his voice pierced the haze, startling you back, "if you wanted cuddles, you could've just asked." The chuckle that followed was warm and deep.

Maybe next time you would ask. But only maybe.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant

[korebringerofded]

I Can See You- Joel Miller X F!Reader

Summary- Your father is the boss of a major crime family that developed after the apocalypse. Life is pretty safe and boring until your fathers new associate, Joel Miller starts coming around and he starts to change everything.

Tags- Post apocalypse, pre!Ellie, one use of Y/N?

Warnings- Age gap, mutual pining, language, smut, mostly future smut, dirty thoughts, sexual situations and dialogue. Joel being hot and protective

Words-3500

Author Notes- Definitely doing a part two for this bad boy. I promise the next one will have so much damn spice I just gotta edit lol.

Thanks for checking out my stuff! Requests are open

Reblogs and comments are very nice please and thanks

I wanna do a whole Joel series with Taylor Swift songs soon so if anyone would like that please let me know!

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it.

As much as you would have loved to have just forgotten this embarrassingly huge crush you had, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get the image of your fathers newest associate out of your head.

You honestly should have known better, considering the first time you heard the name Joel Miller was regarding how dangerous he could be, how rugged and cold. He had apparently been caught smuggling some supplies around your fathers territory and by the end of it all a deal was struck and just like that Joel was working for your father.

It was the first time that you came in contact with him that really doomed you to fall for him so completely. You couldn’t say what exactly it was that drew you to him at first, he was handsome, obviously, and incredibly dangerous, maybe that danger is what made him so tempting to you, he was forbidden and a part of you liked that.

The first time you met Joel in person was a few weeks after you had first started to hear rumors of him around the compound. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee as you stood in the doorway, a bit shocked by the unknown visitor. He was…terrifyingly handsome, sharp jaw, scruffy beard, deep pools of brown eyes that you could get lost in. His salt and pepper hair that was perfectly messy matched his casual dress, jeans, work boots, plaid shirt. You stared at him for a moment, chewing at your lip before finally saying something. As his eyes settled on you, still in your pajamas and messy hair.

“G-goodmorning, I’m (Y/N).” You struggled to steady your voice, failing miserably. 

“Joel.” He partially turned to face you, raising his hand up to wave as he gave you a polite nod before going back to his coffee. You guessed he wasn’t really much of a conversationalist and tried to shrug it off before making your own coffee and retreating back to your room.

It went on like that for a few weeks, you watching him patrol the compound through your bedroom window, running into him when you both made coffee in the mornings, passing glances in the hallway

“You can’t walk around like that!” You sighed, setting your coffee on the counter behind you as you walked over to Joel and ghosted your small hands over Joel’s plaid shirt, it was a dark green and blue and was rather well worn with tears and it had been missing the middle button for years.

“I will be fine, darlin.” Joel snorted, rolling his eyes at you as he shook his head. “I don’t have any big dances comin’ up so I doubt anyone’ll notice.” Joel took a bite from the toast in his hand as he looked down at you, admiring your curves and glowing skin. 

Damn, he really needed to get himself under control.

“It most certainly is not fine.” You put your hands on your hips, scowling at him. “Take it off, I am fixing it for you.” You held a hand out expectantly.

Joel couldn’t help but do as you asked so after he chuckled and teased you just a bit longer he was unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his shirt before tugging it off and handing it to you as he tried desperately to ignore the way your delicate hands felt against his as they brushed for just a moment.

You went back to your room holding the shirt to your chest with bright red cheeks, the fresh pine scent just enveloped you as you held it close to your face to breathe in his scent. 

Ugh, you totally were not getting creepy with this annoying crush at all.

It was the next morning and Joel was leaving his room in the compound when he felt his work boots knock over something and when he glanced down he saw a small shiny gift bag laying on its side.. He couldn’t help but grin and chuckle as he picked it up and pulled out his shirt, running his rough hands over your handiwork, not a hole or tear in sight and the missing button had been replaced with a shiny red one. It had never looked better. Something in him started to tear away then, such a small act of kindness. It just really got to him as he felt you start to warm the parts of him he had thought were cold and barren. 

When Joel stopped showing up for coffee you were more than disappointed as it had become something you secretly looked forward to everyday. The lack of seeing Joel seemed to only make your mind run in a circle of anxiety and embarrassment. He had taken up so much of your mind it was starting to drive you mad.

The next day you saw Joel it was probably the hottest day of the entire summer and you had taken refuge in the pool, a thin pink bikini covering your body, not leaving much to the imagination. It was damn hot and you honestly didn’t care, floating in the pool as you tried to ignore the blazing heat. You had been in the pool for a while, skin getting a bit pruny and eyes closed as you enjoyed the cool water.

“Hey! Care for some company?” A familiar voice made your eyes open quickly and in front of you on the edge of the pool was a curly brunette with wide shoulders and a toothy grin. Caleb, was one of the younger guards your father had hired recently and he was rather handsome, cocky and annoying, but still handsome and (most of the time) enjoyable.

“You do know if my daddy finds out your slacking off again there will be hell to pay?” You couldn’t help but giggle and tilt your head to the side. Caleb shrugged and sat his rifle down, untucking his shirt from his pants and starting to lift it over his torso. It was hard not to let your eyes wander at his tan toned body, and muscular arms. 

“He won’t be home for a while so-” Caleb’s cocky words folded into a yelp as he was dragged from the edge of the pool by the back of his neck.

“The fuck are you doing, boy? Get the hell back to work.” Joel spat, his thick Texas accent was so prominent now. Your eyes were so focused on Joel that you didn’t even notice Caleb grabbing his things and looking pale as a ghost while he ran off.

To be frank, Joel looked furious, his thick muscular arms bulged from his tight shirt as he stood at the edge of the pool, his sharp jaw tight as his arms were crossed over his chest. His dreamy brown eyes were now dark and stormy as he kept them locked on you.

It made you feel a bit meek and yet, you were also a bit pissed yourself.

“What is your problem?” You felt your cheeks getting hot as you started to get out of the pool, still dripping wet and hair reeking of chlorine as you stood in front of the scowling man. 

You hadn’t realized until now just how…huge that he was. His shoulders were broad, arms thick and rippled with muscles.His scent was thick and alluring, and being this close to him made your anger dwindle. 

“You shouldn’t be out here like this, kid.” Joel sighed, his eyes looking you up and down, his fists clenching and unclenching as his nostrils flared. 

“I am not a kid, and I really don’t need you to lecture me, old man.” You couldn’t help but jab at him, going to turn away before his rough hand gripped your arm tightly, his brown eyes staring intensely into yours.

There was a moment you were both frozen like that, his hand gripping your wrist. Joel honestly couldn’t help but rub his thumb over your wrist, gently drawing slow circles along your flesh. The water from the pool still dripped down your body and onto the pavement below, the sun beating down over your smooth skin. For a moment you swore you saw that cold demeanor melt away, for just a single moment before it was back and he was scowling again. Joel immediately let you go, turning away almost suddenly as he walked off. 

You hated to admit it but your heart lurched at the loss of contact and you stared at his broad shoulders as he walked away, wide eyed and cheeks a bright pink. It was hard to breath, hard to move as your heart beat echoed in your ribs and traveled through your whole body. You hated to admit how he was making you feel, it was confusing and sent waves of heat through your body as well as frustration.

Seriously, what was his deal?

He was really starting to take up a lot of your thoughts and the two of you had barely spoken aside from that day. It was starting to drive you nuts, you found yourself looking forward to running into him more and more as time went on. 

It would be two weeks before you saw Joel again as he was sent out on a job away from the compound (You knew better than to ask too many questions about specifics.) though you really couldn’t help but feel he was purposely trying to avoid you.

The evening sun poured into the kitchen as you sat at the counter, legs crossed as you flipped through the pages of your book. In all honesty you were desperately trying to distract yourself from thinking about Joel and his damn hands. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you had experienced before, it was intense and a little terrifying. 

You thought about those rough hands touching more than just your wrist, you thought of them dancing across your flesh expertly, back arching and breath ragged as his stubble ran across your chest and navel and lower until he was between your thighs, eyes hungry as his hands gripped your hips.

 Your thoughts were starting to consume you and you couldn’t help but audibly groan and let your head fall against the counter. 

“Uhhh..You okay there?” Joel’s voice cut through the room like a knife, his deep voice sent goosebumps over my neck and back. 

You were going to die of embarrassment, after all this time and he just shows up at the worst possible moment. 

You reluctantly sit up and turn towards him, cheeks a bit pink. 

“I'm fine- Woah.” When you faced him you felt yourself tense up. He had deep bruises on his jaw and his lip was busted open. “What happened to you?”

You didn’t really think about it, you grabbed a clean rag and walked over to him, tugging on his arm to make him sit in a chair so you can clean him up. 

“Its’ fine-I can handle myself.” Joel holds his hand up to stop you, your eyes locking for a moment. He can’t help it, your pleading eyes and trembling bottom lip made him fold almost immediately and his hand fell so you could move between his legs, gently pressing the rag to Joel’s bleeding lip. 

“It’s not ‘fine’.” You rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your closeness but you focused on his lip, soaking the blood up and feeling a bit dazed at how damn handsome he was, how his thick pine scent mixed with the sweat on his brow and how that all made your heart leap in your chest.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit- I’ll be right back.” You whispered, taking a step back as your nerves started to fully set in, this was too much, he was too tempting. If you were too close to him you were going to majorly embarrass yourself. You just wanted him so badly it was starting to fester in the pit of your stomach.

Once you returned you finished cleaning his wounds and dressing them, his breath spreading over your chest and neck as your delicate hands patched him up. You were really just too close for comfort. 

Joel was dying inside, clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled to resist the urge to run his hands over your hips and to just fucking ruin you. He had certainly been avoiding you like the damn plague, you were gorgeous and going anywhere near you was sure to be nothing but trouble for the older man and yet…something about you kept him coming back to you, despite the dangers, despite the taboo. He just wanted you in every way. 

“All done. Now you won’t bleed all over the place.” You teased, feeling a deep sense of relief as you finally and yet still reluctantly backed away from Joel, cheeks heating up as his eyes met with yours again. 

“Thanks, darlin. Maybe you can be my personal nurse, hm?” Joel stood, smirking as he took a few steps closer, his chest inches from your face as you stared into those endless eyes of his. Joel slowly reached his hand up and brushed your cheek with a look so soft and cool it made your head spin. “See you later.” He mumbled softly before he turned away quickly and was gone just like that. 

He almost didn’t control himself there, his mind and heart racing in tandem as he willed himself to walk away, willed himself not to think about your smooth plush hips or your gemstone eyes that glimmered as they looked up at him, full of innocence and sweetness. Something that Joel, deep deep down, wanted to corrupt. He just had to avoid you at all costs. He could do that, right?

After that it was almost a month before you ran into him, and it was less so running into him and more so your father being a control freak and only allowing you to leave the compound when accompanied by a trusted guard and unfortunately for the both of you this meant Joel was given the honor of being your babysitter.

“I am 23, Joel. I don’t need you to lecture me.” You rolled your eyes as Joel took a beer bottle from your hands. You were already significantly more drunk than you needed to be, not that you would ever admit that of course.

You leaned against the bar, rolling your eyes dramatically. You had worn your tight black dress that hugged all of your curves, shiny red lips popping as you glared at the tall man, hands on your hips.

“Your daddy seems to think otherwise.” Joel shot you a glare, taking the beer bottle from you and passing you a glass of water which immediately made you groan.

“Don’t you ever loosen up?” You huffed, face heating up as you glared up at him, the alcohol burning through your veins and making you a lot more vocal and in all honesty, bratty.

“You don’t need to be shit faced when I take you home.” Joel sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, he wasn’t going to budge on this. 

“Fine. I am going to dance. You can sit here and sulk.” You huffed, spinning around and walking out into the drunken and stumbling crowd but not far enough that Joel couldn’t see. A part of you wanted him to watch.

You turned back to see his eyes staring at you in an almost predatory way and for a moment it almost made you lose your nerve. He was almost burning a hole in that dress with the heat and intensity of which he watched you. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the way he gripped his glass, his jaw tight as you started to sway your hips, dancing to the music. While across the room Joel watched every step, every sway. The way your hands ran over your stomach and chest, eyes low and chest rising and falling. He looked like a starved man as he looked you over, gripping his glass so hard you were concerned it would shatter.

You were much too drunk, you would certainly make a fool of yourself and yet you didn’t stop. His eyes on you made you hungry and a little light-headed. His gaze was so damn intense you didn’t even notice the man standing behind you before he tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see Caleb, a little dazed and very drunk as you looked at him, his hair a bit messy and his typical toothy grin.

“You’re beautiful in that dress.” He smirked, going to lean forward to touch your hips before his eyes went wide and he started to back away, hands up as he pushed a few people to get away. He looked like he just saw a ghost. 

You stood, head tilted to the side as he ran off, confusion written on your face before you turned around and felt your own heart sink. Joel was stalking towards you, fists clenched and a terrifying dark look in his eyes as he approached you, getting nose to nose with you.

“I’m tired of this.” His voice was dark and gravely, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

In a swift motion Joel had lifted you by the waist, tossed you over his shoulder and started to walk out of the bar, his thick fingers holding your waist tight as he carried you out into the cool night.

“Joel! Put me down!” Your face was bright red in embarrassment, you struggled a bit but it was ultimately fruitless, Joel’s strength greatly outmatched your own.

After walking for a minute and ignoring your many, many threats Joel did eventually put you down. From the moment you saw him stalking towards you to right now you felt your blood boil in a fierce wave of anger. You ignored your trembling hands as you got nose to nose with him, tears stinging your eyes as you shoved your manicured index finger against Joel’s muscular chest.

“Seriously, what is your problem?!” You were seething as the words left your mouth, tears threatening to fall.

Joel just stared at you for a moment, the moonlight overhead was shimmering in the alleyway and illuminating your captivating eyes. Even now, as you furiously glared at him, eyes dark and angry, he was absolutely helpless to your beauty. He was fighting a losing battle with himself, he wanted to be a good man, he wanted to finish this job and get far away from you so he could stop himself from ruining not just his own life but yours as well.

“You.” He took a step forward, his eyes dark as he stalked towards you, his hands reaching out to pin you between him and the brick building.  “You are…my problem.” Joel was growling now, he was almost baring his teeth as he moved closer, his breath spreading over your neck as you stared wide eyed.

“W-what are you talking about?” Your voice was soft.

You couldn’t help but gasp when you felt Joel start to laugh, leaning his head against your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as Joel took in your sweet vanilla scent as much as he could before pulling away. You could feel his body shake as he laughed before his deep brown eyes were staring into yours.

“Seeing you run around in that damn bikini, seeing you flirt with that douche. The coffees and those fucking eyes you keep giving me. It needs to stop. All of it.” Joel’s eyes were dark and serious, his jaw tight as he pressed his knuckles into the brick behind you. He was fighting everything inside of him. The fight between his morals and the way you were starting to make him feel. 

You were silent for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes that were glossy as tears threatened to spill down your rosy cheeks. Had you misread the entire situation?

“Why?” Your voice was soft as you looked at him, lip trembling a bit. You felt pretty pathetic.

“Aside from the fact that your daddy will kill me? You are just a young kid. It ain’t right.” Joel’s face softened a bit as he started to pull away, shaking his head as he struggled to keep his eyes on anything but you and your glimmering eyes. 

“You don’t…you don’t want me at all?” 

Those words sent electricity down Joel’s spine as you looked up at him, tear stained cheeks and trembling breath as you reached for him. He in fact did want you, he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything or anyone.As much as Joel wanted to spare you, to allow you to stay pure and good but something in him was so damn loud and hungry for you, his internal voice was kicking the shit out of him for making you cry. He just didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t take it anymore and in a quick movement Joel had you pressed against the wall again, his hands holding your hips as his mouth ghosted over yours, his breath heavy and hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear.

“I want you so damn much, darlin. So damn much…” 

Part Two Coming Soon???

#x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us joel #hbo the last of us #joel x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfic #joel x reader smut #korebringerofded #fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut #smut #Daddy issues for sure #korebrinderofded

[silvercompassmaps]

Indian Bazaar

In the crowded marketplace alive with the scent of colorful spices and mouthwatering street food, there is a secret smuggling ring that supplies customers with the rare drug Ksibata. This drug is rumored to have the power to completely heal one's wounds and energize the spirit...but at a cost. Do you dare to try the drug?

The concept of a crowded marketplace, a bazaar, has always appealed to me. The ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd, being exposed to all kinds of sights, smells, and tastes, and interacting with a variety of people.

This map will also be included as part in my Devabhumi setting book, which will be released this year! Devabhumi is an Ancient India-inspired campaign setting, which presents an unique shrouded in rich lore and mystery. Sign up here to be notified when the kickstarter project goes live.

You can download the base map for free here.

#dnd #d&d #pathfinder #tabletop #ttrpg #dndmap #battlemaps #rpg map #map tile #miniature #cartography #dndart #fantasy map #battle map #roll20 #foundryvtt

[avocado-writing]

Now I’m not saying ‘sexytime roleplay where aristo princeling Aziraphale has to somehow persuade reader/Crowley/both to help smuggle him across the border’ but…

Basically, Aziraphale in his 1793 outfit, being sensually undressed, and seducing his partner(s) while getting humiliated a little? If you feel like it ofc, your writing gives me life !

notes: once again absolute smut. this outfit drives me insane. costume designers you know what you did. thank you to my friend M who pretty much wrote the lil Crowley monologue at the start of this fic, couldn't have done this without you!

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: E, minors dni

words: 2.2k

tags: roleplay (humiliation; degradation; dirty talk; dubcon); aftercare; TLTDATSIB-verse

Overall, when you think about this situation, there are two things that you’re quite certain of.

The first one is this: Aziraphale likes to be rescued. It’s why he’s always getting himself in silly little situations. Usually it’s Crowley that has to do the actual rescuing, given that he’s a demon with otherworldly powers and all, but you’ve been known to distract a guard or lift a key. Bust down a wall with a battering ram. Helpful little things like that. 

In the aftermath Aziraphale is always very pleased and finds ways to make it up to you both later, so there’s never any complaining. 

The second thing you know is that after all these years you can still discover things about yourselves and about each other. It’s always lovely to start a sentence with, ‘oh, I didn’t know that…!” You find new little ways to fall in love with them over and over again.

You’ve just made the tea, and put Aziraphale’s down on the desk next to him. He thanks you the usual way but doesn’t look up from the book in his hands, so when he reaches over to pick it up he instead knocks the mug over and spills the hot liquid all over his lap.

“Aziraphale!”

His head snaps up. He’s barely aware of the situation at all. You imagine his corporeal form isn’t hurt by little things like these, but your natural reaction is to worry; get a little bit panicked.

“What are you doing? You need to watch out! You could really hurt yourself if you’re not paying attention, don’t be so silly!”

Aziraphale is looking at you, but he seems to have gone a bit glossy-eyed as you dress him down. Mouth agape a little. You know this look.

This is how he looks when he’s turned on.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm? Sorry, yes darling, I’ll be more careful,” he mutters, miracling the spill away. Across the shop floor you lock eyes with Crowley. Yes. He noticed that too. 

The two of you silently agree to address this with him later. So, that night, with a couple of bottles of merlot between you, Crowley turns to your husband and says, as easily as if he’s discussing the weather:

“So, angel, it seems you really enjoyed being told off earlier.”

Aziraphale chokes on his wine. Ah. Got him. 

“It’s alright if it’s true,” you tell him, running a hand up his leg. “You just need to say.”

“I… I…”

“It occurs to me,” Crowley begins, sitting back in his seat as if he’s about to say something very astute, “that when you get captured, it can’t all be for our benefit. Maybe you enjoy it before we even get there to carry out a daring escape. You like being somewhere you’re not supposed to be and being punished for it, don’t you? Do you like being treated a little rough?”

And there’s that look again: eyes glassed over, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Go on Aziraphale, you can tell us. We can be very accommodating.”

“Yes,” he manages, pupils blown wide as you walk your fingers up his chest. 

You and Crowley exchange a grin. 

The three of you don’t roleplay a lot. You’re happy enough with each other as it is, there’s not usually a need to bring the fantasy element into it - but variety is the spice of life and after floating a few scenarios this is the one you eventually agreed to. It really happened, actually. You can still remember the guard you knocked over the head to clear the way for your lovers’ escape. Ahh, fond memories.

You have some clothes still kicking around from then too, so a little bit of searching your wardrobe really meant you could get into character. Aziraphale and Crowley get to cheat by just manifesting whatever they fancy wearing. You feel they get off a bit easily.

Well, they will by the time we’re done, a devilish voice in your head pipes up. 

Crowley has really gone the whole nine yards for this, though. Clearly he wants all parties involved to enjoy it to maximum effect, and so when the two of you step into the bedroom it’s no longer a bedroom, in fact it looks exactly like a dungeon where your poor angel has been imprisoned before. His curls sit neatly styled on his head as he wears his pretty little aristocrat outfit, the one that did things to you back in the day and still does things to you now. His wrists are shackled and he looks up at you both with the most pathetic little gaze.

You swallow. You’re going to enjoy this.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley says, wasting no time before getting into character, “look what we’ve got here. Some lost little rich boy who got caught by the wrong people, eh?”

Aziraphale shifts in his seat. Already he’s affected; eyes soft and mouth slack. He tugs uselessly at his restraints and looks very pitiful indeed.

“Please let me go,” he whispers, encapturing the role of a feeble little captive perfectly. You and Crowley exchange a look, lit by a hot undercurrent of lust.

“Why would we do that?”

“I can reward you. Very handsomely. My family –”

“We don’t care about your family,” you laugh, cruelly, and he flinches. You close the gap and take his face in your hand roughly, forcing him to look up at you. “We only care about seeing your pretty little head in a basket. Look at you. Pathetic, aren’t you?”

The ardour in Aziraphale’s eyes is evident: his pupils have blown wide, engulfing the beautiful colour of his irises. You can see his trousers tighten and he has to adjust himself.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he agrees. You grin down at him.

“And what would you do, hmm? To get us to help you? Smuggle you back on a ship on its way to merry old England, where you’ll be safe?”

“Pay.” His voice is breathy now, strained as he looks up into your eyes. You press your calf more firmly between his legs and, almost without realising, he begins to rut up against you. He’s already fully hard. 

You didn’t realise how much he wanted this. If you had, you and Crowley might have indulged him earlier.

“Pay with what?” Crowley echoes. He sounds stern but you know him well enough to hear the reediness in his words. He’s probably half-mast too.

Aziraphale doesn’t answer, just rubs into your leg a bit more.

“With your body, you pretty pathetic thing?”

He moans, actually moans, and nods.

“Look at you. Fucking up against me like a dog. Is that what you are, hmm? Some piteous little mutt?”

He makes a noise of affirmation. You can see a wet spot appearing at the front of his trousers where his precome floods him.

“Say it.”

“I’m a dog,” he whines. You shoot Crowley a grin. The demon, for what it’s worth, seems to have become a captive audience to the scene of Aziraphale trying to get off using just the pressure he can create. A stamp of your foot stops both Aziraphale in his attempts and brings Crowley back to the moment.

“If you want to be free so badly, show me what you’re willing to do. Suck his cock.”

Aziraphale looks over to Crowley and, without missing a beat, lets his mouth fall open. It’s like a magnet to your husband who closes the gap immediately and, with some fiddling with the buttons on his fly, frees his rock-hard member and presses the blunt head of it against the angel’s tongue, who takes no time in swallowing it down.

You don’t move from your place between Aziraphale’s spread thighs. In fact, you shove your leg between them even harder and he understands what you want, continuing to try and get himself off. His head is twisted at an almost painful angle to be able to fellate Crowley at the same time as desperately humping you, and you can see the tears prick in his eyes.

You consider asking for a moment if he’s alright, but know if he needed to tap out, he’d let you both know. This is about humiliating him after all. And you really want to play your part properly.

Hungrily you watch the sight of Aziraphale swallowing down Crowley’s cock. God, he is magnificent at taking a dick. You can see spit drip over his lips as he tongues at the slit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at being used. Crowley’s hand come to tangle in his soft curls as he fucks into the angel’s mouth and hits the back of his throat over and over. You’re taken in by it too, and in the heat of the moment find yourself ensnaring Crowley in a delicious kiss. Your husband kisses you back leisurely and lovingly. You know he’s enjoying both of his spouses to the fullest. Aziraphale gags and finally the tears spill, hot streaks staining his pretty roseate cheeks. 

“Pathetic,” you say, lovingly, adoringly. Aziraphale’s thrusts up against your leg are beginning to get a bit sloppy now, you know he’s close to coming; you extract yourself and turn sharply to Crowley.

“Stop. We can get more use out of him. I want to see you fuck him in front of me.”

You make quick work of your clothes. Usually you’d relish undressing for them, put on a show, but tonight is all about satisfaction. Lying on the floor you open your legs, gesturing Aziraphale to between them.

“Come on, you wretched thing. Show me what else you can do.”

Aziraphale moans and falls to his knees before crawling over to you. His mouth leaves Crowley with a very sultry little pop, spit still covering his face, lips fucked open and red. As he gets into position between your thighs Crowley kneels behind him, making short work of his dress breeches and brings them down to his ankles, around his heels. You position yourself propped up on your elbows so you can look over Aziraphale’s back as Crowley presses into him, not giving him the kindness of a warmup but knowing that Aziraphale will be able to take it anyway. His heavenly body can stretch and adjust with more ease than a human’s.

Your blond-haired husband looks up at you with deference and just a tinge of fear which goes right to the pit of your belly. He kisses your thighs sloppily, working his way inwards before he presses his mouth to you properly; attentive and thorough to your sex. 

Crowley begins to fuck him, hard and rough without any care for his well-being - exactly how Aziraphale wants it. You hear him moan around you as he uses his tongue to satiate you, every time Crowley thrusts he’s pushed harder against your body. Crowley is essentially fucking you through him. It’s an entirely filthy thought that has you panting as you feel yourself begin to crest. You didn’t realise how taken you were with this scenario until Aziraphale began his ministrations, and now you’re just as caught up in it as your husbands are.

“That’s it… fuck, look at you, splayed out between us like the whore you are… are you going to come on his cock, you pathetic little thing? Debase yourself like that? Are you going to swallow me down too?”

Aziraphale pushes his face even harder into you, his nose brushing against your tight curls there; Crowley’s thrusts begin to get erratic; all three of you are close. You grip the angel’s hair so hard he shrieks in pleasure, and it’s enough to get him to spend all over the floor. Crowley comes inside him with a bitten-off snarl, his hands digging into the softness of Aziraphale’s hips so hard they’d leave bruises were he a human; and you release in the angel’s mouth after a particularly dexterous lick. The combined sound of your orgasms shatters whatever hold Crowley had on the manifestation of the situation, and suddenly you’re all back in the bedroom, sweating and gasping and replete.

“Aziraphale,” you manage as you catch your breath, “are you alright, my darling?”

Aziraphale has collapsed into a giddy pile onto the carpet. He nods and hums, blissed-out, and you bring his head to lay in your lap as you stroke his curls.

“You did so well. Fuck, you’re wonderful.”

Aziraphale turns to look at you and reaches up to caress your face with a shaking hand. You press a kiss into his palm and look over to Crowley who’s gathering himself as well, serpentine eyes full of adoration at the image of the two of you embracing.

“I’m going to go and get some water. Keep him there, will you? I don’t want him discorporating from lack of aftercare.” Normally you’d engage in some light banter, but you’re so tired you let this sentence sit as fact.

“Yes my love,” you tell Crowley, accepting the kiss he offers you, and watching him saunter away. Lord. You could watch that demon for hours.

Heaven might be above, but right now, it’s entirely located in your bedroom in a townhouse in West London.

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