#the leather wrapped around their boots could just be the fact that the boots kinda look frayed & fucked up but ! why not both

[chaosgenasi]

it's more of a hc really, but i was thinking about ashton being exposed to the colder climate of tal'dorei & getting compression clothes/gear as a result or something, and then i looked at their character art and realized that they already kinda have some in a fantasy way, see: their vest & the way it looks like it can be tightened w/all of the buckles + the extra support for their boots + their leather bracelets

#basil.ramblings #also thinking about. being broken & quite literally taken apart & the comfort that could come from pressure. + just the way it helps w/pain #thoughts brought to you by my hands being stiff as fuck bc the weather is changing #my first thought was that it could be snowing bc. whitestone which is why i jumped to sleeves #but then i remembered it's basically late october in game lmao. but even still being suddenly exposed to fall weather #after living in a desert climate for most of your life + chronic pain with scars ( plus being Made Of Rock ) could kinda suck #it is very barbarian to not have sleeves but on the opposite end of compression it could be a sensory thing. like it feels #better to not have anything pressing against the scars on his arms esp when you're healing. everyone's different #but yeah personally the cold makes me more stiff/achey & irritates my scars but it helps in other ways so. i was just thinking about it #the leather wrapped around their boots could just be the fact that the boots kinda look frayed & fucked up but ! why not both #also just the purple material wrapped around their hammer being the same as the patch on their knee. chefs kiss #anyway this very quickly turned into a design appreciation post

[rainchyna]

𓆩♡𓆪 episode two: The Torch.

first day on the job and y/n is already a needle mover??? icon behavior fr fr. i know it took a little for this ep to come out but i rly hope y’all like it 🫶🏽 it’s also kinda long my bad i got carried away lmao lmk what y’all think tho‼️

“i have an offer to make”

this couldn’t be bad. …well

it’s Vince McMahon. only so much can go wrong.

“surprise me” you challenge.

“so, one of our women, Alundra Blayze to be specific, she hasn’t been .. the most cooperative. we haven’t been seeing eye to eye exactly regarding her contract and we’ve decided to terminate it. that means tonight will be her last Raw” he said.

you could feel that he was pointing to something, but to be completely honest, you had no idea where this was going. again, this is Vince McMahon, anything can happen. you’ve heard of Alundra before and have seen some of her matches. she’s pretty damn good.

Vince leaned back in his chair, “I have no issue with her leaving the company, the only issue is that she’s currently the women’s champion, and she’s considering signing with WCW” he explained.

“okay..?” you mumbled, confused.

“I want you to become the women’s champion” he stated.

your eyes widened, and you aggressively blinked shocked at what he was saying. “you want me as champion?” you ask, he nods. “this quickly?” you ask again and he nods. he looked a bit angry and seemed quite pissed at the fact that Alundra is leaving.

“has anyone won a title on their debut match, like .. ever?” you ask

“why don’t you be the first one?” he suggests.

that sounded insane. it two ways.

you were concerned about how Alundra would react to being stripped off of her title. did she know this was going to happen? was she okay with it? not that it mattered really, it was her last day her anyways, but you couldn’t help but over think.

on the other hand, you felt giddy. excited. you were going to debut, and win the women’s title on the same night? sounds like absolute fun. hopefully the WWF crowd reacts well, you just needed their support and that’s all that matters.

“are you sure this is a good idea? i don’t want the crowd to turn on me on my first day” you hesitantly say. he shakes his head, “don’t worry about it, they’ll love you. i just need to know if you’re on board” he says.

“i’m in” you say, you can almost see the cogwheels turn in Vince’s head as he looks down at his desk.

“i have a lot planned for you, you know?” he says, half zoned out. you smile, “that’s great to know”.

2:37 pm, catering.

“so what did Vince want?” Lita asked. should you tell her? it’s not like she’s not going to know, everyone will at the end of the night.

but what if Vince was using this as an opportunity to know wether or not you’re the type to blab about plans publicly?

“Y/n?” Chyna asked noticing you zoned out, “oh, we just talked about my debut later” you answer, sipping on some orange juice. you weren’t exactly lying, but you also didn’t want to spoil the show.

“that’s cool” Chyna said, “i hope we work with each other a lot” she added. “yeahhh” Lita smiled. “is this what you’re wearing later?” Chyna asked. you look down at yourself, you completely forgot that you’re still wearing your unofficial gear.

“i’m still figuring it out” you fix your hat, “i want something that’ll scream ‘y/n is here!’ y’know” you say. Chyna hums, “i think you should get something custom made” she suggests.

“any ideas?” you ask, Lita sits up. “shorts! but leather, kinda like same design as my pants, but shorts, y'know. and a top like Chyna’s, keep the coat ‘cause it looks cool” Lita says.

“i think the top should be white instead of black, to make it resemble you New Japan gear” Chyna said. “oooh, what if i wrap a white ribbon around the hat and wear white boots with my name on them?” you propose. “see that sounds pretty!” Lita says.

the mental image of that looks really pretty. “how am i supposed to get those done quickly though?” you ask.

“i have someone that’ll do it, don’t worry about it” Chyna winked.

these two are the real ones.

all three of you continued chatting about random segments and matches Chyna and Lita had, until you were interrupted.

“excuse me Y/n?” a staff member approached you, “yeah?” you reply, “there’s someone who would like to see you” he stated.

you look back at the girls concerned and they mirror your look, “okay” you say getting up. you walk behind the staff member down the hallway, until you’re lead to the … rehearsals ring hall?

“there” he pointed towards one of the rings, “thanks..” you say slowly stepping in. you walk towards the ring the man pointed at, and you can see someone sitting there. they look at you, getting up and leaning against the top rope. is that…?

“you’re Y/n, right?” she asked.

Alundra Blayze.

the blonde had a smile on her face, but you can tell she looked tired. “yeah! nice to meet you!” you smile, stepping in between the ropes. she gave you a hug which took you by surprise a bit, but after all, you’re the one taking her spot as champion. you might as well warm up to each other.

“i’m assuming Vince told you..?” you say, you both sit down on the ring mat. she chuckled, “i wish he told me directly” she began. “overheard him discussing it with one of the producers” she explained. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, if he can tell you directly, he can tell her too.

“well that’s rude” you say taking off your hat putting beside you. “and unprofessional” she adds. “i wanted to discuss with you our match later, ‘cause if i’m gonna go out, i wanna go out with a bang y’know?” she said. you nod, “oh yeah, i get it”.

you both began building your match. Alundra would go out and issue an open match to any who wished to get a shot at her title, then you’d come out. you were responsible for the highflying spots in the match and she would bring in some technical wrestling.

you both found yourself fantasizing about spots you’d like to do, it felt really good knowing that you both were on the same page before even meeting each other.

she seemed like such a sweet person, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad about her leaving.

“Y/n” she said, she look very determined yet a bit upset. there was change in the air. everything felt very serious all of a sudden. “yeah?”

“i know we barely know each other, but i want you to promise me” she began, placing her hand on your shoulder. oh, this is that kind of serious.

she got up and jumped off of the ring, you couldn’t see what she was doing but she seemed to be grabbing something. as soon as she sat back down next to you, you knew where this was going.

she placed the women’s championship between you.

“do not let this belt lose it’s value” she said, looking deep into your eyes. “i’ve seen a lot of your work in Japan, and i know what you’re capable of. Vince never took women in wrestling seriously, and I want you to change that. I want you to be that change” she explained.

“there’s no place for women in this company” she sighed “but there soon will be, i trust you with the championship. I hope you can put some respect on our name in this industry”.

it felt like a lot of weight was placed on your shoulders, but she was right. you’re here to wrestle and to make a name for yourself. everyone deserves respect in this business, everyone. women deserved a chance, and it’s time to make some changes around here.

“I promise”.

9:00 pm, RAW.

“it’ll only be six minutes, and that’s the end of it!”

you and Alundra just left gorilla after arguing with Vince about your match. he wanted it to only be six minutes but the match you planned was twenty minutes long, now way will you have even began the match at the six minute mark.

you both were very fucking angry. this was Alundra’s last match was your debut match, the least he can do is be a little generous. but okay.

okay.

you knew what you were going to do, this match is twenty minutes and it will be twenty minutes, because you fucking said so.

“what are we gonna do now?” Alundra asked. it wasn’t looking good for you two, but what looked good was tonight’s card.

UNDERTAKER VS. GIANT GONZALES

THE HART FOUNDATION VS. THE ALLIED POWERS

*ALUNDRA BLAYZE VS. Y/N Y/L/N (women’s title)*

OWEN HART VS. THE RING MASTER.

1-2-3 KID VS. RAZOR RAMON

FAROOQ VS. GOLDUST

BIG VAN VADER VS. BAMBAM BIGELOW

D'LO BROWN VS. AHMED JOHNSON

SYCHO SID VS. SHAWN MICHAELS

your match was right after the Hart Foundation's and you knew you could get Bret to do something. now, you weren't going to ask him to talk to Vince about it, because if you're the one wrestling and he's doesn't want to listen to you, he obviously will not listen anyone else.

"stay here, I'll be back" you say. you quickly jog your way to the men's locker room as show had began and the first match was about to start. you knock on the door and Bret and Jimmy come out to. "I need y'alls help" you breathe out.

you explain the predicament that Vince put you in and they are both visibly agitated by Vince's decisions. "now, I may be asking for too much but is there anyway you guys can shorten your match?" you ask.

both men are quite for some time, and it feels like all it's over.

Bret hums, "how much time do you need?" Jimmy asks. you're a little surprised, "wait really?" you ask, "and don't worry about Davey and Lex, I'll tell them" Bret said, hand on your shoulder. "like ten, twelve minutes" you say.

"you got it" Jimmy said.

"I owe you one, big time" you sigh, "don't stress it" Bret pats your head.

both men make it back into the locker room and you can hear Bret call out to Lex and Davey. thank god for them.

you jog back to Alundra, who was anxiously standing where you left her playing with her hands. "I bought us time! we'll do it all" you smile and Alundra physically relaxes. "thank fuck, oh my god". you quickly run her down through what's going to happen, before hearing your name being called from down the hallway.

you look behind you and it was Chyna and Lita, "just another moment please'" you say. you head in their direction and they spot you. "what's up?" you ask, "your gear is ready!" Chyna says handing you some folded clothes, "c'mon, I need to see you in it" Lita enthusiastically said.

everything was going great.

9:20 RAW.

you and Alundra closely watch the boys' match, you look down at your watch. it's going to end any moment now, right now, come on...

Bret slipped through the ropes and landed outside the ring, the referee ran out to check on him, and almost immediately held up the 'X' sign. you both jump to your feet, "we should stand by gorilla, right?" Alundra asked, you didn't hear what she said. you were concerned that Bret was actually hurt, but a part of you wanted to believe that that was his way to end the match early.

"y/n?"

"h-huh? oh yeah, let's go"

as soon as you approached gorilla all you could hear is chaos. from doctor's rushing to check up on Bret, to Vince freaking out over the time that was going to be wasted.

you pass by Davey, Lex, and Jimmy who winks at you.

he must be okay.

"BRING ME Y/L/N AND BLAYZE!" Vince bellows, "WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY? WE CAN'T STOP HERE!" he screams. you smirk at each other, before entering gorilla with innocence as a halo above your heads.

"what happened?" you ask, lips in a barely visible pout and brows furrowed. "is he okay?" Alundra asks referring to Bret. "LISTEN, listen. I need you two to go out there right now" Vince explained, "the show can't stop." he adds.

it was so funny seeing him panic over an episode of RAW, what would he have done if this was a pay-per-view?

"can we use up the extra time?" you ask, Vince answers without thinking, "do whatever the fuck you want, just put on a goddamn show!" he says settling back into his seat.

"are you sure?" Alundra asks, "will you draw me money?" Vince asks. you quickly nod, "you got it" you say.

less than a minute later, Blayze was out in the ring. you fluffed you hair and adjusted your boots. 'Y/N' was written on them, on the waistband of your new shorts and the ribbon on your hat.

you breathed in, then out. you felt more excited than anything.

"to any woman back there, if you want to try to beat me for this championship, this is your chance. come at me, no disqualifications, so you can do whatever you want. this is an open challenge and any of you are welcome" she boasted.

the tips of your fingers began feeling tingly, and you couldn't contain your smile. you began fiddling with the microphone you were handed.

then your New Japan theme hit.

as you walked out onto the ramp, your pyro went off, and that was the loudest crowd pop you've ever heard. it was so loud, and they cheered for so long. the fireworks made for such an amazing visual, and your titantron displayed your standing at the top of the ramp with a huge smile.

it felt so good being in front of a crowd again.

you walk down towards the ring, and bring the microphone to your mouth. "you said anyone?" you smirk, and crowd cheers again.

"anyone." Alundra nods.

you both throw your microphones to the ground and you slide into the ring. you take off your coat and hat, and the referee rings the bell.

and to say that the fans were invested in every last thing you two did, would be an understatement.

from every kick, to every punch. every flying elbow to every submission hold. this was the first women's match to truly feel like one in a hot ass minute, and they way you were fighting each other made it feel like the title meant something to you both.

it was so fun. it was your first night here and the fans felt fully invested in your match.

and everything got more interesting when the fight moved outside of the ring. you picked Blayze up and put her right through that damned spanish announcement table, to a thunderous pop. Jim Ross and King Lawler's commentary made it all the better.

you threw her back into the ring and locked in and 'Bank Statement', and another pop deafened you. you were facing the main camera, and Alundra began reaching out to the lower ropes only for you to shift your weight on her and move your legs to stomp on her hand. the crowd cheered again.

she held on for as long as she could before tapping out.

and just when you thought the crowd couldn't get any louder, they did. you pull away from Blayze and the referee calls for the bell to be rung, the arena felt like it was on fire.

you stood up both hands in the air, and the referee announced you as the winner. Alundra stood up and asked for the referee to give her the belt.

you both stood in the middle of the ring as she handed you the belt, successfully passing the torch. you both hugged and by now the crowd was chanting your name.

you pull away from her, "thank you" you smile as you raise her arm up.

9:42 pm, backstage.

you knew you had gone over the time you had, even over the extra time you were given and you were ready to take the tongue lashing you were about to get for it.

you walk through the curtains into gorilla, and what you saw scared you a little more than it should've. Vince was sat in his seat in front of a monitor, with a smile that could've stretched from ear to ear. you and Alundra look at each other nervously.

"uhm.." you begin as you walk up to Vince, "was that alright?" you ask. "alright?" he asked, "that was fucking phenomenal!" he said, and the relief that washed over you was unmatched.

"that was hands-down the best women's match I've ever seen! it was so good, and all the spots - especially that table one - were fantastic and fans clearly loved it." he praised, he walked over to you and gave you a hug, then shook Alundra's hand. "I should've listened to you" he said, head a little low.

you smile, good. great.

you walk to your locker room, championship slung over you shoulder. you could pat yourself on the back right now. you saw something hang off of your door, it looked like... a paper? as you got closer, you realize it was note. you grab the little yellow paper and read what's written, it was a little hard to read since the handwriting was a little messy.

'I'd like to have a word with you' - Undertaker.

huh?

#rainchyna #sour grapes #wwe headcanons #wwe x reader #wwe fics #wwf headcanons #wwf fanfic #wwf x reader #wwe shawn michaels x reader #shawn michaels x reader #rainchyna’s sour grapes

[lynnedwardswrites]

Happy WBW! What type of clothing is popular in your WIP and why? Bonus, tell me something cool/fun/interesting about it! (Could be how it's made, how it's worn, if it's fashionable, etc)

(Thanks so much for this ask and my apologies for waiting to answer it until STS!)

Ooh, ok, so the existence of werewolves (feran) in my society has done a ton of cool things to clothes. The most important to the story is the gefalten, which is a suit of leather armor that has pleats which expand to fit a feran's brode (hybrid) form:

It comes with boots called teilen that have leather panels that shift and slide around to accompany wider, digitigrade feet. These armor sets are most commonly worn by a group of feran holy warriors called the Wolfguard who are loyal to the Seerish church. In fact, this armor in this color specifically is kind of seen as a holy vestment.

The Wolfguard are kind of the exception when it comes to feran people in this setting, though. Most feran fall at the bottom of the social totem pole, and Morgenhausen fashion has some pretty strong racial lines.

Most feran are not warriors and don't need armor, but they do have to deal with the fact that their body will push them to transform about once a month (not in the light of the moon, that's just a story. Transformations can happen any time of day.) And some others use their brode form intentionally for gain (as hunters, for example, or in self-defense). Because of the size change, those who need to be free to transform used to wear looser clothing. This would amount to baggier tops, a specialized kind of belt that has a snap that lets it change to a set larger size when a little force is applied, loose pants, and maybe even some teilen boots if you had the money for them. If you didn't have a lot of money, clothing appropriate for a transfiguration might be the only clothes you had, and you'd wear them day in, day out.

This was a pretty distinct look, and because of its bottom-class/feral werewolf associations, it became gauche for anyone else to dress in loose, billowy clothing while in public. In fact, the upper classes got a thing for really tight, perfectly-tailored clothing that matches your physique. Not quite corsetry, but lots of panels and darts. Lots of buttons and laces. Maybe your shirt is long enough to have a bit of a skirt on it, but the top emphasizes the body under it.

Of course, if you were a feran person trying your best to make your way in the world and get that promotion in the guard or make sure the foreman took you seriously, then you had a problem. Because sometimes you needed to wear the big shirt, so you didn't wind up half-naked on the street during your time of the month, or so you would be able to defend yourself if necessary, but you couldn't just go to work or that party in a floursack, you also gotta look smart to impress the humans.

So pleated and folded clothing became popular, in styles like the tache shirt, which are kinda like the fabric version of a gefalten, but with a lot more variation. These kinds of garments are designed to fluff out big enough for a brode form, while still fold/pleat/wrapping around the body in a way that makes the extra fabric mostly invisible when in your human form, especially if you wear a nice jacket over the top or something.

It's not quite the same thing as what the humans are wearing, but it's respectable, and being seen as respectable (and therefore not dangerous) is important enough to collective social survival that many feran people will police each other over wearing this style, instead of the loose style.

#writeblr #the hare and the jackal #ask game #feran #gefalten #wbw

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb   @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts​

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

[funfunfuntillmydaddy]

Few things are better in life than the feeling of a bare cock cumming in my pussy.

Of course some guys are a bit shy when it comes to sex and fucking a girl bareback. While not common for me, especially when I’m enticing them to cheat on their girlfriends with me, every once in a while a guy insists.

And that’s what happened with Eric. Eric was one of my ‘friends’ boyfriend. They had been together for ages. He was cute but a bit shy and a bit geeky. But he had all the right attributes for me, a cute face and big hands.

What also made him adorable was how loyal he was to Hannah. My flirting can be both persistent and pretty obvious. After over a year of trying to get his attention and have some fun with him.

I was almost going to give up until one night I found myself out with a bunch of our friends including him, but not Hannah. We had started early in a bar and it had all the hallmarks of one of those marathon, multi venue nights. I locked my sights on him and made sure the guys around him kept him well lubricated with alcohol

Luckily I had dressed for the occasion with a short leather skirt and a tight white top that was just a little see thru to my lace bra.

When darkness hit and we ended up in a dance club I started my campaign in earnest. Being the shy type that he was, dancing wasn’t too much his thing. So I had to drag him on to the floor along with some others in the group.

I’m of course I woman of restraint and patience so I didn’t launch straight into the bump and grind. But I did dance with him and around him so he could get used to it. His nervousness was palpable.

Fast forward a few hours, a few venues and quite a few drinks and we ended up in one of those clubs oozing sex and all sorts of natural and synthetic chemicals. We had lost quite a few from the group. But the hardcore remained. Eric and I had become one night drunken soulmates as we took turns helping each other navigate the treacherous drunken journeys faced by any seriously intrepid bar hopper.

And now the dancing was not restrained at all. We were not just touching, we were pressed into each other. His hands were glued to my hips as I pressed one way, when spun around and pressed back into him the other. I could feel his excitement. I could feel his stiff cock. We went on and on. The dancing getting more intense and his poor balls getting bluer.

When the last ones in our group called it a night and it was just us, I decided it was time to take this to the next level. I told him we should go. He was a little surprised it was so late and it was just us. So I said we should catch one cab and since I was closer, he could drop me off first and then head home. Of course that not what I actually thought.

We found a conveniently dodgy looking taxi and climbed in. As we set off, I gave the driver a flirty look and asked if he could turn the music up. He looked back at me and grinning turned up the dance station he had on.

I told Eric that I still felt like dancing and kinda wished we were back in the club. As soon as he nodded in agreement, I shuffled over to him before I moved up and sat on his lap. I moaned softly as I felt his semi hard cock under me. Then I squirmed to the music as I rubbed myself over his lap. Similar to the club but just with some different geometry.

I saw the taxi drivers eyes in the rear view mirror and I smiled to myself. Unfortunately, of course, the change in position caused my short skirt to ride up. But not quite fully. So I helped it along with some subtle sweeps of my hands. Suddenly my skirt was totally on my hips. My ass framed by a black lace thong on display for Eric.

My face turned on an even more wicked smirk when I felt Eric’s hands move to my hips and then down to my sides, touching at least some my bare ass cheeks.

We continued for another few blocks till we got to my apartment. Now it was crunch time. I told him this area was a bit dodgy and would he mind seeing me to the door. Or he could come up and sleep on the couch if he didn’t wanna waste money on taking the cab across town, reminding him Hannah was out of state with her family.

He was all hesitant and nervous. So sweet but he couldn’t not walk with me the short distance so he went to get out and I quickly gave the driver$20 and as Eric was out the door, told him to scram. He just laughed as I got myself out and repositioned my skirt.

As we walked the short distance through the front of the building, the taxi screamed off as the driver tooted his horn. I smirked at Eric as I said it looked like he was staying here now. Of course I had no intention of him sleeping on my couch. So I decided to ramp it all up right from there.

As we stood at the entrance of my building I leaned in to him and grabbed the front of his shirt pulling him down to me as I gave him a hard kiss. He pulled back slightly but then o could feel his urges take over as he leaned in. I let my tongue dance in his mouth as the sloppy and slutty kissing continued.

After a good moment or two of this, I broke away before taking his hand and pulling him into the mid sized apartment complex. As we waited for the lift and the kissing continued. The size and layout of the complex meant it was unusual to run into other people especially at this time of night. So with the assumption of privacy I gave him a big grin as the doors closed. We only had 9 floors to go but I still managed to get to my knees and unbuckle his jeans, pull his cock from his underwear and start sucking before the doors opened.

He tried to pull away at first but was already against the wall. By the time the doors were opening though, his hands were on the back of my head, encouraging his cock into my mouth. With no urgency at all as the lift shows no sign of moving I kept sucking his cock. But then the doors closed and the lift travelled back down. As it slowed I hurriedly put his cock away while I stood up and fixed myself up.

The doors opened and a couple walked in, surprised to see us there. I smiled back at them as I pressed back into Eric. Subtext reaching behind to feel his hardness. Through his still unbuckled jeans. This time we did get out on the 9th floor as our fellow travellers continued on.

I spun around and laughed as I lead Eric to my apartment. Eric’s face looked embarrassed but he showed no sign of retreat. So I continued my assault on his morals and I lifted up my skirt again so it was back over my hips. Then as I got to my door I reached behind me and pulled him into me. I grinded back into him, unlocking the door with one hand and and pulling his cock back out with the other.

We tumbled through the door into the small apartment. The couch was right in front of us. I turned to him and offered him the couch and then after a silent pause and a wicked grin, I offered an alternative.

Adorably, he told me the couch was fine. But I just smirked as I leaned back into him and meet his mouth as we kissed. I whispered into his ear that his cock is going feel so good when it’s in my pussy. He let out an groan and then I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom.

Once in there I pulled his jeans all the way down, pulling his boots off and helping him out of his jeans. Then I lifted the shirt up to help him remove it. Now he was completely naked and I admired his toned body with better muscle definition than I was expecting and a nice hard cock pointing out in front.

I feel back on the bed and gave him a wink as I pulled my thong to the side. That when he killed the mood and asked if I had a condom.

That’s killed the mood in the past, but I was committed to having fun with Eric so I took it in my stride. I told him he didn’t have to cause I was on the pill but like a good little boy he insisted.

So I went into my bathroom and returned with a condom. It wasn’t something I used that often. In fact this one had expired and was also a medium sized which I didn’t think was gonna work for him. Of course, I had a pack of large ones that were brand new in my cabinet, but Eric didn’t need to know that.

I sat on the bed in front of him as I removed the condom from the wrapper and placed it over his stiff cock. I struggled to get the condom stretched over his impressive size and I could tell it was already dry and brittle. But I managed to get it two thirds of the way over his cock.

Once I begrudgingly wrapped it up I pulled him on to the bed and on his back. I straddled him and lined up my dripping pussy with the head of his cock. I lock eyes with him as I lower myself down onto him. Both of us moan as the tension of the night now focuses on his cock and my pussy. I lift up and then push down. I keep going, quickening the pace and increasing the intensity.

I keep going harder to the point where the bed starts to creak and groan. Eric’s hands make their way to my breast through my top. I pull it off to let him have a more sensory experience as I keep fucking him. He pulls my bra down exposing my breasts allowing him to aggressively fondle them.

Our combined moaning continues to crescendo as I keep fucking him. Every once and a while checking the condom to see if it has given up yet. Alas, it holds on.

Eric is getting more and more into it now. Being very active in the fucking as he thrusts his hips up to meet me. I can feel him trying to reposition himself. So I pause my assault briefly.

He moves out from under me and roughly pushes me on my back. He quickly gets in between me and puts my ankles over his shoulders. He drives his cock deep inside me and instantly restarts the hard fucking in our new position. He keeps going and going. Now his assault on my pussy becomes relentless.

His stamina holds and his nice big cock gets me close to cumming. I’m moaning in ecstasy. As he slams into me as hard as ever, I feel something different. I move my hand to the base of his cock as it slams into me to confirm. Sure enough a broken condom is now bunched up at the base of his cock. It rubs against my lips as he drives his bare cock into me. A broad smile comes across my face as a guttural moan escapes me.

I look my legs around his waist keeping him against me. I tell him that I think the condom has broke but that I’m so close to cumming I plead with him to keep going.

I see the flash of fear on his face as I tell him. He slows briefly but my pleads and moans convince him to keep going. I’m so close to cumming but need a bit more from him. My breathing is so ragged and my moaning intense. I can sense he is close to. I squeeze my pelvic muscles as much as possible to clamp his cock. He starts grunting and I feel his cock swell. I plead with him to keep fucking me and he does, with more intensity than ever. He grunts and groans loudly. We are both totally entranced.

I scream obscenities as I go over the edge. Then i feel him slam deep inside me and hold it there. My orgasm floods my body as I feel him empty himself directly into my unprotected pussy. I look at his face and smile as I see the annalistic pleasure travel through him.

We hold it there for a few moments before he pulls out and collapses next to me.

........

As the light comes into my room, I slowly open my eyes. It must be mid morning. I feel Eric spooning me and I feel his cock pressing into my ass. I’m still wearing my skirt around my hubs and my bra only slightly higher up around my waist.

I get up trying not to disturb him and go and have a shower.

I’m a little bit nervous about what his more sober and stress relieved attitude will be. I decide a cooked breakfast might help him process it and recover. So I put on a short bath robe and go to the kitchen to make breakfast.

A short while later he emerges from the bedroom wearing his boxer shorts, looking sheepish. I smile at him and tell him I’ve got some bacon on the go. He walks over and stands behind me telling me how good it smells. Then he presses his body into mine.

20 seconds later he has me bent over the kitchen bench. His bare cock driving into my unprotected pussy. I smile to myself through my moaning and groaning

#cheating #impreg kink #affair #condom

[anyoneseenadam]

hello! may i request some azriel fluff 🥺 like mornings with him/ cuddling in bed, im in dire need of cute azzy fics. also i love 'home' it's actually the story that got me into reading acotar content!

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: pure fluff with a smidge of angst if you squint, mentions of blood/scars (very brief) but mainly just fluffy lovliness

a/n: okay so I kinda expanded on this a bit but it does have cuddling in a bed and mornings so I hope you like it! I’m always down for our boy getting some much needed love! 

----------------------------------------------------

It had been almost a month since you had seen Azriel. He was away on a mission for Rhys, always willing to follow his brothers orders even when your lip had wobbled at the sound of a month alone when he was in foreign territory undertaking dangerous tasks. A part of you felt guilty as he left, a pained expression on his face as he left you standing in the doorway, waving him off. You knew his job was hard and that he didn’t enjoy being away from you anymore than you did, but you couldn’t help but worry, especially after the missions where he came home with new scars and the darkness that you were working hard to rid him off returning to his eyes.

Tonight you were sat on your sofa, feet curled and a mug of steaming tea next to you as you flicked through a book. You had been reading the same paragraph for at least twenty minutes, the words not processing as your body reacted to the missing weight that would usually be curled against your side by this time of evening. Your gaze flittered over your home; perfectly clean as you had sought things to do while your heart was in another country, bookshelves lining the walls and paintings adorning any clear space on the walls. You closed your book, well worn as in your life you had read it many, many times. The pages had yellowed, and the spine was bent, yet the smell had remained and now as you read through it you could catch the notes Azriel had pencilled in when he had read it to please you. When you went to re-open it, unable to sit still, you smiled as it opened automatically on the most worn page, a quote circled and Azriel’s neat handwriting in the footnote, you traced your finger along the words, reading them with a soft smile.

              “No. No one likes being alone. But

              I’ve learned to live with it.” – now

              I have you I don’t believe I could

              ever be alone again. You could leave              

              me; steal my money, my heart, break

              me down and I would still come

              crawling back to you. You hold my heart

              now, please be gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes as you read his words, the page already had tear stains from when you first saw the words, but now in the cold of your lonely house they sank in deeper. However, before you could wallow in your self-pity anymore, you heard the door push open quietly and quiet feet pad in, the tell-tale signs of someone who presumed you would be asleep, albeit it was nearing 1am. You quickly put your book down, standing and practically running to the door, grinning widely as you saw Azriel there, tugging off his boots with one hand braced against the wall. He looked up when he heard you and offered you a weak grin.

“You should be sleeping baby,” he smiled at you as you barrelled towards him, jumping into his arms.

“I can’t sleep alone anymore,” you muttered into his shoulder and he shook with a silent laugh, tightening his grip around your waist. You stayed in that position for a few minutes more before you slipped down, grabbing his hand, and tracing a thumb over the dark circles that surrounded his eyes, next to the dirt and dried blood that was drying and cracking in his hairline. “C’mon you stink.” You giggled leading him to the bathroom and turning the tap to fill the bath with warm water, sprinkling in salts that you swore would help, much to his manly grumbling. You turned and found him leaning on the door, eyes watching you carefully, taking you in as you moved to him and started helping him out of his clothes, tugging at the leather until it came down displaying his glorious body to you. Once he was naked you pushed him gently in the direction of the bath and he furrowed his eyebrows and made grabby hands when he realised you weren’t joining him, you just laughed and kissed him gently, promising to return soon as he began washing.

You moved to the living room first, grabbing your mug and taking a tentative sip, smiling when you found it at a drinkable temperature. Then you moved to your shared room, fluffing the duvet and pillows, and changing into one of his old shirts, then grabbing him some loose sweats and walking back to your bathroom, arms stacked. He was leaning his head against the edge of the bath when you re-entered and cracked open his eyes, smiling lazily at you through hooded eyes. You moved to sit beside him at the edge of the bath, taking a washcloth and gently wiping his face clean, before rinsing it off and moving it down his neck and chest, following with soft kisses pressed into his clean skin as he all but purred in delight.

When you finished you leaned your head on his arm, your sleepless nights without him catching up on you as you sipped your tea, breathing in the relaxing smell. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you and turned your head up to face him, he leaned down and pressed a longer kiss onto your lips, the two of you simply revelling in the taste of one another, lips and tongues languidly moving in tandem. When you pulled away he quickly washed his hair as you finished your tea, before standing and wrapping himself in a towel around the waist and draining the pink-tinted water, pulling faces at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in silence. Finally you fell into bed together, exhaustion creeping up on you as he wrapped you in his arms, kissing your head and holding you impossibly tight. ‘I love you’ whispered into the dark of the room as shadows settled around you.

When you woke, your legs were tangled in Azriel’s and you felt like a weight was lifted off you. You forgot the effect Azriel had on you when it came to sleep, he had a way of lulling you into a deep sleep that woke you up feeling better than ever and fully rested. You craned your head up to see Azriel still asleep, his face more restful than you remembered, the furrow between his brow smoothed and you couldn’t resist tracing it with your thumb as you admired him.

“Watching me sleep again?” You almost jumped at his gruff morning voice, but just huffed a laugh.

“Someone has to witness this beauty and I’m not big on sharing so…” You trailed off and he cracked an eye open, gaze filled with love. You leaned up and kissed him, neither of you caring about morning breath as you finally spent much needed time together again.

“I need to go see Rhys today, let him in on everything.” He whispered when you pulled away, resting you head on his chest.

“Not quite yet though,” you muttered.

“No, not quite yet.”

You woke for a second time a couple hours later as Azriel returned from the bathroom, slinging an arm over your waist, and pressing his chest to your back as he burrowed himself back under the covers and into the safe haven the two of you had created. He started leaving soft kisses down from under your ear and along your neck, moving over you shoulder with a soft hum as you drew patterns on his arms, clutching his hands in yours as you pressed them into your chest, against your heart.

You opened your eyes to look around the room and saw Azriel had opened your curtains, the light muted due to the fact there was snow falling outside, muffling all sounds except the ones created in your home, the soft whispers of Azriel’s kisses and your gentle breaths. You watched as a robin landed on a branch outside your windowsill, a small twig clutched in its beak. Such a small twig would go on to create a home for this bird, alike the small romance that had bloomed your and Azriel’s deep, unending love, turning the cold house you had been in the night before into the warm home you were in now.

“We should do some baking today,” you whispered to him, “maybe gingerbread.”

“Apple pie,” he muttered, his face buried in your neck.

“Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“I love apple pie,”

“What about Rhubarb crumble and homemade custard?” you asked, stifling a laugh at the pout you could practically hear from Azriel.

“Mmm you’re a genius.” He whispered, pressing a longer kiss into the crook of your neck.

“I know it’s a curse.”

“Not just yet though,” he repeated your words from earlier and you smiled.

“No, not just yet.”

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand

[harrieatthemet]

Mustache

He has never been keen on sharing. 

And Gemma’s mere existence, as well as the small indent on her left thumb she swears is a scar (though Harry vehemently denies it is), is living proof. 

Mr Ducky was his favorite bath time companion for a good bulk of his childhood. There were even times he’d carry it around with him in the house tied to a string like a pet, one of Anne’s fondest memories and favorite stories to tell whenever she found the opportunity. 

Maybe it was Gemma’s own fault; she was only six at the time and was foolishly under the impression that the stupid rubber toy was at anyone’s disposal, which is what led her to try and situate the duck in her backpack as she geared up for school. 

It’s also what led her to tears because Harry caught her on the way out the front door, Mr Ducky in tow, and he instinctively sunk his teeth right into the side of her hand in protest. And, okay fine, he may have bit down a little harder than he should have, but the overall message he was sending came across very clear. Gemma never touched anything he owned again for a very, very, long time; and eventually went on to tell everyone in her class she had a vampire as a brother. 

“What do we think of this little number,” your hip jut, innocent as it was, just now became a permanent memory in Harry’s brain, “too much, like.. revealing?”

You like nice in red; devilish, even, and in the best way possible. There’s nothing revealing about the dress at all. Somehow, though, he finds himself perched squeamishly at the foot of your bed in complete fucking anguish. In theory, no, the dress is not too much. It’s the perfect ensemble and flatters you so well he feels like whoever made the dress conjured it up with you specifically in mind. 

And no, it’s not too much, for literally anyone else except him. How is such a modest dress enough for him to think you up the way he is right now; bent over in front of him with your hair wrapped tightly up in his palm while that dress lays in a sloppy ball by his feet. 

“Would be nice with nude shoes,” he mules, “like, those sandals y’ave, yeah?” 

The way your eyes light up, that same way they always do when your mind starts to move at light’s speed as you start assembling a million different ideas into one, is enough to tug a grin onto his mouth. 

He didn’t really want to agree to this. When you texted first to ask he ignored it, that way you’d have just carried on without him and he could blame a busy schedule or an overrun nap on his delayed response time. It’s much easier to blame a missed text for no response. Of course it’s not in your nature to send a text, and he knew that already. So it came a son surprise when he was bombarded by 4 phone calls. By the fifth one he had picked up, succumbing to you and just the flat out unfulfilled urge he had to hear your voice at the other end of the phone.

“Seriously Harry,” your voice is like fucking honey, sweet and sullen like it always is, and he’s in euphoria listening to it as you poke your earring through the lobe of your left ear, “it’s just, y’know I don’t- I’m nervous and I appreciate you helping me do something as stupid as picking a dress.” 

“S’not stupid,” he reassures, “y’know I just like spending time with yeh, since y’so busy ’n stuff.”

Which is true. That’s the only thing that got him over here; and he rescheduled a zoom call just to sit in your bedroom for all of twenty minutes. Not one part of him regretted it, either.

“I’m busy?” You tease, “coming from the A lister who’s in London, than LA, than New York, London again, oh, than LA again oh, then ‘sorry love, m’in Tokyo.’”

Also true, he knows that, which is why he’s snickering at fault in response to your harmless teasing. He wouldn’t say it now, mainly because he doesn’t want to make it weird, but regardless of where he falls on the map he somehow still finds a way to fit you in. He’s never minded doing it, either. 

Twenty minutes isn’t enough. Maybe another twenty more could be a sufficient amount. That’s almost an hour, right? Forty minutes is almost a full hour with you and he’d love to get even that much. Or twenty more hours, even, would be that much better. It’s better for him to think of getting more time with you than to let his thoughts wander and remind him of where you’re getting ready to go off to. 

A date. It’s why he was so hesitant to come here. It’s hard enough as it is being a prisoner to his own thoughts, being around you and not getting to interact with you the way he actually wants; kiss you the way he wants, touch you the way he wants, hold you and talk to you the way he wants. Adding a new element to the mix, another man getting access to you the way he wants, well that’s just mental warfare. 

You don’t know anything about though. And thank God, because if you could get a peak into his thoughts and see just a preview of what he thinks he almost knows for sure you’d ice him out in a heartbeat. He’s got a soft spot for you, nonetheless, which is why he swallowed the massive-sized lump in his throat when you told him you needed help on an outfit for a date and b lined it over to your place.

“Who’s this guy, anyways.” He chimes, following you similar to that of a lost puppy as you start heading towards the staircase, “Like, wha’s he look like ’n stuff.”

Immediately after he asks he wishes he hadn’t. The way that pesky fucking lump reappears when you wiggle your eyebrows in response, stuffing your hand into your leather purse in an attempt to fish out your phone. A simple response like ‘handsome’ or ‘he’s a nice guy’ would’ve sufficed for him. Seriously, that’s all he needed. What he didn’t need was an entire fucking slideshow of an above average looking guy. And he had a cool mustache, to boot, which really pissed Harry off for some reason. 

“Should probably shave,” he squints his eyes at the photo you’ve got propped right in front of his face, trying his hardest to act like he isn’t so fucking jealous of that mustache, “kinda looks like a squirrel on his top lip."

“If I didn’t know you so well,” you tut teasingly, “I’d think you’re a dick.”

“You know me so well and still don’t think that?” 

He likes the way your laugh sounds, and it makes him happy that he said something amusing enough to drag it out of you. And the toothy smile you pair with it practically knocks the wind right out of him. Everything you do seems to wow him, corny as it sounds. It makes him feel so at ease, and the butterflies he gets each time gets him reminiscing to the days where he was just a kid and had the worlds biggest crush on the girl who sat three rows ahead of him in grade school. He’s giddy and he doesn’t want you to leave for this date. 

For a second he thinks about doing something elaborate; breaking his foot or faking an illness so that you literally have no choice but to hang back and look after him. That’s selfish though, and honestly just crazy and super fucked up, so he opts out of that. But he doesn’t want you to go so bad he seriously considers it, especially as you start sorting through the downstairs closet to find a coat that doesn’t clash with your shoes. 

He could just be honest. He could just tell you that he doesn’t want you to go, solely because he’s absolutely infatuated with you and for every hour he’s awake and functioning you manage to consume every thought he has. He could just be an adult and tell you he’s got feelings for you that very much surpass a platonic, friendly demeanor. That might be a better way into persuading you to stay back with him than breaking his fucking foot. 

“Ok now wait a minute,” he chokes, and there’s a painful twang that strikes his gut when you frown, “gotta tell y’somethin’.” 

“What,” you groan, and he swears he would rather die right now than do anything else, “it’s the shoes, right? They make my calves look like I’m a running back don’t they?” 

He wants to laugh but he thinks if he opens his mouth he would projectile vomit everywhere. But the thought occurs to him that if he does that than it would be an excellent excuse for you to skip the date. Though, of course, he runs the risk of grossing you out and absolutely humiliating himself all in one go of it. 

So he shakes his head no. In fact he loves the shoes, and they make your ankles look slender and really compliment your legs quite nicely. Still, he’s scrambling to string together a coherent sentence because his brain is working a lot faster than the muscles in his mouth are and it feels like someone just super glued his lips shut.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” you tease, and the cheeky wink you shoot him over your shoulder just edges him even more if that’s possible at this point, “Styles.”

“I don’t want y’to go on this date, (Y/N).” 

He’s well aware that he blurted that out in a way that he really, really, wish he hadn’t. Now the air in the room is stale and heavy, dense too, like someone just sucked all the air out and left the two of you here with nothing to inhale but words and unspecified tension. 

And he’s starting to get more anxious as your playful manner dissipates. He can tell your puzzled not just be the demeanor of your face, but by the stance of your body because your letting shoulders hang the way you do when you’re a little uncomfortable. 

“Oh,” you breath, and his chest starts sinking inward, “okay, I just- well why not? Do I not.. like, do I look bad or something?”

“No,” he coos, and he feels like the worlds biggest asshole when you start to frown, “No y’don’t- Christ, (Y/N) y’look amazing. Y’always look so fuckin’ amazing. It’s just-”

“What,” you huff, “than what is it, than? Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

He’s really done it now. The proper thing to do would’ve just been to let you go, walk out with you and watch you drive off before he headed home himself. The proper thing to do would’ve been for him to just go home and think about you on a date with someone other than himself, curled up in a ball watching a Friends episode he’s already seen four times while he felt sorry for himself. But that’s not what happened, and what he should’ve done was just broke the fucking foot like he initially thought to do. That would’ve been less agonizing than this. 

“Because,” he’s frustrated now, not with you but really just himself, “I should be taking y’out. M’absolutely in love with yeh, (Y/N), and I don’t have a cool mustache but I could take y’out on a date, ’n I want to so bad.” 

There’s still that dense energy looming in the room, and his gut now too as he feels it winding up tightly in an anxious bundle of knots and twists. You’re not saying anything and the only thing he notices is that you’re breathing is vaguely staggered and your clutching onto that purse in your hand like he’s about to snatch it and run off. God, he should’ve just broken the foot!

“Please don’t go out wit him,” and now, his voice is small, “think it might kill me.”

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[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Fury of Their Scales

m.yoongi / reader

genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,

warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?  

w.count: 17.7k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]

synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.

a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL

A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs.  Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.  

-x-x-x-

You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain.  You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement.  You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept.  What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost? 

You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed.  You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch.  Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn. 

You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early.  You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill. 

Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference.  Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.  

Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.  

A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks. 

Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit.  Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat. 

You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water.  When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.  

“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air.  You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something. 

“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead.  You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough. 

Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door.  Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home.  Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck. 

Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself.  You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin. 

You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child.  You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature.  Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable.  At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out. 

“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered.  “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person.  All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.” 

You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move.  A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on. 

As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around.  Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod.  You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall. 

You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something.  From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?  

A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those.  A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.  

A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately.  Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl.  However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.  

Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening.  You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines.  Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap?  If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not. 

Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.  

When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it.  As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound.  You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk. 

Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated.  You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible.  Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal. 

It was a dragon. 

You racked your brain trying to be reasonable.  Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze? 

You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it.  You didn’t hide immediately this time.  You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run. 

You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly.  A wyvern you think it was called. 

The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse. 

A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature.  With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain. 

It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end.  It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head. 

Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness.  A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less. 

Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory.  They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for.  Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.  

The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons.  If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed. 

They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.

A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals.  Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell. 

Then, the dragon’s returned the favor.  If the humans wanted war, so be it.  The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being.  With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground. 

This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.  

The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past.  Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer.  They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.  

That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about.  Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out. 

The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.  

As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks.  It was just stuck, injured and helpless.  Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.  

The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap. 

It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own.  You were discovered and there was no going back down. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast.  It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling.  You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath. 

It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it.  You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety. 

Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.  

“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said.  Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you. 

It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap.  You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.  

You think the dragon knew this too.  You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine. 

It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place.  It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.  

You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness. 

“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.” 

You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth.  The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin. 

Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human.  It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably. 

You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap.  You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things.  The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit.  The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg. 

“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself.  “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!” 

The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground.  The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you.  It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back. 

You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you.  It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.  

It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.  

This was it.  You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.  

The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth.  Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.  

You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing.  All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died.  No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run. 

You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil. 

The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you.  It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive. 

“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest.  Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky.  You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed. 

When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.  

“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind. 

-x-x-x-

Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury. 

As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried.  You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake. 

You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red.  However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway. 

It was a small noise in the distance.  A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone.  Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.  

Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air. 

All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it.  You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.  

You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.  

You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening.  You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further.  Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.  

You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you.  You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness.  You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.  

You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face.  You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.  

The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.

“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before.  You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you.  “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg.  Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood.  Just how much blood did dragons have? 

If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now. 

You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village. 

You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent.  There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight. 

When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric.  A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension. 

“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.  

At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart. 

You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home.  Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree. 

When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything.  You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.  

Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time. 

-x-x-x-

You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning.  At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours.  A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement. 

You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.  

Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak. 

When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time. 

It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.  

“Good,” you breathed happily.  You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter.  You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way.  Healing was your passion after all. 

You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept.  It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you.  You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness. 

A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis. 

You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar.  It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.  

When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt.  You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon. 

It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl.  It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect.  You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you. 

You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat. 

You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped.  You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath. 

You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel. 

The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls.  It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area. 

When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt. 

Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving.  Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.  

“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon.  “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you.  You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to. 

You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago.  You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you. 

“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.  

You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.  

As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.  You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees.  Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it. 

It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods. 

When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights.  You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.  

It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home. 

If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory.  You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise. 

“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff.  “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down.  You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was.  “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl.  You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.  

You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.  

“Okay, that settles that.” 

Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him. 

You rambled- a lot.  It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it.  You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things.  Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries.  How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice). 

“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside.  “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”

You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.  

When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure.  You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him. 

You would be wrong. 

Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.  

-x-x-x- 

“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light.  You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril.  You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him.  He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.  

You had some decency. 

You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out.  The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place.  No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty. 

Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head.  It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was. 

“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound.  You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.  

You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later.  He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands. 

You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing.  If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.  

You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back.  Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows. 

“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face.  Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him.  The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.  

When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground.  Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.  

Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.

As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near.  You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with.  Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping.  Just relaxed.  

“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no.  “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled.  He sounded so sulky.  “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes.  Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him. 

When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell.  He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.  

You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that. 

Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket.  You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons.  But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.  

It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.  

Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly. 

Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin.  He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around.  Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you.  He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.  

A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you.  However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands. 

You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow.  Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood. 

You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver.  Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it.  Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck. 

You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.  

“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him.  “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.” 

He finally moved away from you and stared at you.  You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there.  He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.  

“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual.  You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person.  Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous. 

As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again.  Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before. 

“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him.  His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain. 

He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him.  It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.  

Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race.  Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin.  They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of. 

He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop. 

When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better.  It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier.  He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn. 

“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into.  A human form that is different with each species.  Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation.  He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.  

Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.  

“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries.  “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear. 

Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy.  He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense.  You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.  

When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day.  It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry. 

The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did.  Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short.  Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man. 

You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over.  He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed. 

His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt.  A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin.  His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses.  Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.  

You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning.  If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness. 

You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush.  You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.  

“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again.  He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening.  “Sir, are you alright?” 

Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful.  They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels.  They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth. 

“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.  

“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back.  “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face.  His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it.  You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact. 

“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you.  You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes.  So that’s why they looked so familiar. 

“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.  

“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.  

-x-x-x-

Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin.  He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something. 

You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.  

The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.  

“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire.  It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air.  He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.  

“Hmm?” 

“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before.  “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.” 

“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it.  It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh.  “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.  

The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much.  Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all. 

Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of.  It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.

Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could.  To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you.  You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body. 

Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already. 

He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin.  You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.  

“Good-”

“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet.  He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over.  Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you.  You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest.  “They hit you again,” he growled.  

“Yoongi, it’s alright.” 

“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam.  He must be really angry, you though.  “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head.  “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.  

You couldn't argue with that. 

“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them.  They couldn’t break you any further. 

“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.” 

“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.  Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.  

“No,” he whispered.  “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.” 

“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.” 

“It does to me.” 

“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket.  He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries. 

As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town.  He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.  

He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you.  It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.  

In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something.  A flower-sized, brick red scale.  He placed it in your palm before he left you. 

“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness.  Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation.  You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.  

Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning.  He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots.  He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way. 

Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you.  He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.  

He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap. 

He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home.  His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened. 

Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you.  You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry. 

He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.  

As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you.  Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.  

Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.  

“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands.  You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.  

The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.  

Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out.  His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness.  It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders.  He was daring them to try him.  

Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down.  Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.  

It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out.  His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.  

“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.  

He did not.  

He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side.  He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground.  Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.  

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.  

No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip.  He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either.  He stayed quiet, a still canvas  all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet.  It was like the might dragon was pouting.

“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead.  You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again.  He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-” 

He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest.  He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you.  The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back. 

“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers.  “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself.  I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath.  “Does that really always happen to you?” 

You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.  

“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them.  Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold.  But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back.  You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says. 

“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.” 

He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things.  He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry.  You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink. 

-x-x-x-

You went without village harm for a month now.  Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time.  He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved. 

The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible.  You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen. 

It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep.  You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance.  You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals. 

A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed.  A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp. 

You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor.  Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground. 

Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home.  You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.

They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness.  You looked at them in fear and confusion.  What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all? 

“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress.  You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.  

“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened.  Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you? 

“You’re wrong!” You denied.  You had no pact with him.  He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice.  Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend?  You swallowed.  

Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully.  You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.  

“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder.  The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened.  You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest.  He fell on the dirt as he groaned. 

“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet.  You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back.  You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back.  The blond was sitting on you as you kicked.  He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down.  “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.

Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall.  You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them.  The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room.  You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?

“Hey!” One called from inside.  “I found something!”  Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head.  You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up.  You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.  

A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch. 

“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter.  “Stop! That hurts!”  You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.  

Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away.  Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back.  Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back.  The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb.  Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.  

You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.  

You were close to giving up.  You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up.  Would they take you back to the village and execute you?  Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip. 

This wasn’t fair.  

“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.  

It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you.  The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body.  Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers. 

Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky.  You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening.  You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something. 

Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you.  Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened.  You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.  

Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men.  Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.  

Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.  

Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them.  You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them.  Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.  

Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white.  Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned.  Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper.  Was this another dragon?  You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you. 

You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety.  You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down.  The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further. 

“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest.  “Don’t,” you pleaded.  There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down. 

Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him.  His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence.  Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation. 

He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry. 

“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened.  “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of. 

Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him.  He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp.  He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him.  His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.  

“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.  

-x-x-x-

You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room.  You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere.  Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.  

The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing.  It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.  

It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw.  Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.  

Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob.  You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.  

Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed.  Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you.  Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.  

Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon.  Was he… sleeping?  His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse.  He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.  

Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did. 

“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke.  You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”

You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap.  You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt.  The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.  

“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.  

“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.” 

Your brows drew close together in confusion.  

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes.  This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first.  He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question. 

The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow.  You recoiled at such an action.  No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment. 

“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace.  I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature.  His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken. 

“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside.  “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you. 

“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.” 

“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened.  The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway.  “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own. 

“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?” 

“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally.  He wondered where you found the strength to do so.  If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you.  Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes. 

“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction. 

“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.  

“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek.  “Yoongi?” 

“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more.  You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.  

Yoongi had taken to tending to you.  You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did.  He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed. 

“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you.  One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest.  He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up. 

“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.  

As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile.  Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged.  A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.  

You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm.  You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation. 

Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you.  Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him.  He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts. 

“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that.  Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth. 

“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?” 

“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile.  So, you were right.  “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings.  Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was.  You have enough to worry about.” 

“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.  

“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were.  If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help.  Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed. 

The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken.  You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day.  It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.  

Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat.  Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around. 

“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace.  He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?” 

His question caught you off guard.  You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him. 

“What?” 

Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness.  In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore.  What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that.  He didn’t even want to think about it. 

“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.” 

“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room.  The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls.  “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.” 

“That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter.  You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?” 

“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives.  We live for years, decades, centuries.  The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked. 

“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before.  Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again. 

“So, then-”

“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves.  “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return.  You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.” 

You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words.  You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again. 

“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?” 

“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised. 

“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word.  He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky. 

“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated.  You almost groaned and rolled your eyes.  You felt like you were running in circles with him. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country. 

“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence. 

What. 

“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?” 

“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face.  There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.  

“But that’s-”

“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you.  You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.” 

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.  

“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.” 

The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was.  Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king.  You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless. 

In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition. 

-x-x-x-

You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment.  It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well.  You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day.  You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.

On your bed was a bag.  One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside.  A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined.  Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves.  Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine.  All neatly packed. 

You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room.  You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.  

You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.  

Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag.  You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely.  You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door. 

You stopped, turning to look at the room once more.  It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it.  You felt silly saying farewell to a room. 

When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in.  He smiled at you when he saw  you.  Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it.  You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all. 

He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek.  You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand. 

“What was that for?” You asked, flushed. 

“Simply, because.” 

“That is not an answer,” you scowled.  “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.

“Of course he didn’t.  I don’t need an escort.” 

“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames.  You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying. 

“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders.  He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly.  He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.  

“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung.  One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.  

“It will be alright,” he soothed.  

“I know,” you chocked.

You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave.  You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you.  You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob. 

This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.  

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you. 

“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form.  You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.  

Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.  

-x-x-x-

“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth.  The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt.  The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years. 

Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area. 

The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.  

“I’ve never seen a human house before!” 

“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.” 

The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like.  Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore.  This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it. 

The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave.  “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.” 

“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!” 

“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”

“I won’t!” He promised.  

Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.  

“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased.  Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.  

“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.” 

“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck.  “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!” 

You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.” 

“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie. 

“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips.  He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages. 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?” 

“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?” 

“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.” 

“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.” 

“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away.  As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

“That’s not fair,” the child pouted. 

“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached.  “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”

Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead.  You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.  

“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out. 

“I already told you, not until you’re older.” 

Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.

To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius. 

-END-

#btsboulangerie #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanidx #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi romance #yoongi fanfic #suga #suga fic #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader au #suga x reader #suga x reader au #au #dragon yoongi #herbalist reader #female reader #dragon #wyvern #wyvern yoongi #bts #bts au #bts yoongi #bts suga

[bluefirewrites]

8 and 45 for juke pls!

8. roommates AU

45. pretending to hate each other AU

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

*****

Julie and Luke collapse onto their couch, both looking worse for wear. But once the door shut behind them, and ensuring that the curtains are drawn, they let themselves relax into each other.

It’s a lot of work, running around and doing what they’re doing, putting on the theatrics to keep the whole world from finding out, but it’s all the more worth it- to come home and be with each other. 

Julie groans, kicking off her boots, not caring where they land on the floor,"One day...we're gonna tell them."

Her statement’s immediately met with a scoff, though it sounds more like a pained wince, given what they just narrowly escaped.

"Oh yeah, that'd be a good idea,” Luke grumbles, tugging Julie closer to him. He just wants to bury his face into her curls and let his worries slip away. 

But Julie, ever the realist, keeps prodding at the dreaded subject. 

“Can we keep this up though?”

“Alright, but what would I say? ‘I've been rooming with the girl who's always foiling our plans’?"

Julie untangles herself from his hold and gives her super villain roommate a pointed look, "They've already met me."

"Yeah. As Julie. They don't know you're Miss Butterfly." He nods at her purple leather get up. 

"But I know them as Alex and Reggie. Not your evil accomplices. Here's to- I don't know- hoping that when they find out, that they'll see me for me,"

The ‘like you did’ is very much there even if it has gone unspoken. 

Luke has to admit, he didn’t take the news very well when he found out about Julie’s identity. 

With the life he’s led- being one of L.A’s most notorious criminals, he’s always moving around, making sure his cover’s not blown. So when he got matched up with Julie on his hunt for a new roommate, he thought he hit the jackpot. 

Works late hours? Rarely home? Friendly but keeps to herself? That way he could keep doing his job. 

Little did he know it’s because Julie was hiding a secret of her very own. 

For Julie, as reputable hero Miss Butterfly, would keep running into Dark Riff and his band of thieves on her rounds. Actually fighting him almost every night. The papers had actually dubbed them as the arch nemeses, which had been true. For a while. 

That was until, they both caught the other one trying to sneak back into their apartment, still suit up no less. 

(The fight on their balcony had been intense- kinda legendary-until they figured it out). 

They had sat at their kitchen table afterwards, nursing their injuries. At point, Julie had tossed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Which was the least she could do since she had given him the black eye to begin with. 

“So what happens now?”

Luke thought that now that Julie knows who he is, she would march him to the station and turn him in. Julie thought the same. 

“Sounds like a morning conversation,” 

And with that they dropped it, and headed to their respective rooms. They spend the whole night ruminating over what happened, trying to grapple with the fact that their lovely roommate had been their arch nemesis this whole time. 

Breakfast the following morning was normal. The sight of Julie, out of her costume, making pancakes for them like usual, is enough to knock some sense into Luke. 

He likes rooming with her. And he likes the area. He doesn’t want to up and move just yet. He could tell that’s the last thing Julie wants too. 

“No one else knows?” Julie had asked him over coffee. No handcuffs, no calls to the police just yet. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” 

“For both of our sakes,” 

And so the arrangement was struck. 

They keep up their hero-villain act at night, but in the day they’re just Julie and Luke, roommates. 

Somehow along the way ‘roommates’ turned to ‘friends’. 

Maybe it started when Julie found out Luke’s background. How he and his friends had been on the streets for the longest time until they joined up with The Magician, the city’s crime boss, and began their life of crime. 

Maybe it started when Luke found out why Julie became a vigilante in the first place. To help those like her mother did, the original Miss Butterfly, until her untimely passing. 

They started to understand each other more, though Julie never fully approved of Luke’s less than legal activities. But Julie has to admit that out of her villain roster, Dark Riff may be the least rotten of them all. He’s a thief but at least he’s not like The Magician (hence his knack for making people ‘disappear’). 

And ‘friends’ eventually morphed into- well... whatever it is they have now. 

On off nights, Luke would be waiting by their balcony, ready to tend to Julie’s injuries if necessary. On one memorable occasion, he pressed a kiss to her bandaged knuckles, with a warning to be careful next time. Julie must have turned a few shades redder from that simple act alone... 

And there was another time when Reggie’s cover was about to be blown, the closest he had ever been to getting caught by the police, and Miss Butterfly had ‘accidentally’ left her knife behind, which helped him escape. 

Luke had returned the knife to her, grateful. Because if anything were to happen to his boys-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She merely said, “And is it your turn to pick the movie or mine?” 

He smiled and chose Dirty Dancing. Her favorite. They end up snuggling into each other on the couch. 

Then It happened at a museum heist. Finally. After nearly half a year of them living together. When she spotted him on the roof, humming that song he’s been working on- music being his true passion, much like hers. 

And so she kissed him, the skyscrapers and night sky as their backdrop, the wailing security alarms as their soundtrack. 

How romantic. 

Another secret to keep. 

Julie knows it’s been tough on Luke, hiding this, hiding her, from Alex and Reggie- who had nearly walked in on their personas making out an hour earlier before Julie took action and swiped at Luke’s feet and initiating a well convincing fight. (They always pull their punches). 

Now they’re back in their apartment and Luke is tired.

"Look, Julie. I want to tell the guys. Really. But it's not Alex and Reggie that I'm worried about,"

"The Magician doesn't scare me," Julie assures. 

He bristles at the mention of his ‘boss’, "I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't the bubble to pop. And he for sure would pop it."

If Caleb found out that he’s with Julie, then he would for sure exploit it. Blackmail, threaten her loved ones, not to mention what would be waiting for Luke since he had elected to keep this vital information to himself. 

"Or maybe you could... leave the life of crime behind?” Julie throws out there. She bats her eyelashes at him, “Join me?"

"But being ‘bad’,” He mimes the air quotations, “is all I've ever known.” 

“You’re not bad,” Reaching for his face, Julie peels the domino mask off of him, “You’re...” 

Luke leans in, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m what?” 

“You...” Julie does the same, but as she nears, her face puckers into a sour expression and recoils, “You reek!” 

Luke pouts, sniffing his own leather garb, “I don’t smell that bad!” 

“We fought at a cannery! You smell like fish”

With a chuckle, he ignores this and wraps his arms around her. She squeals. 

“No, no, no- ew! Luke!” 

Luke takes it a step further and tickles her into submission, and so now that he’s hovering over her on the couch. 

“I guess I found out Miss Butterfly’s weakness then,” he smirks before he kisses her.

Julie’s hands weave into his hair, drawing him closer, and with a smirk of her own, still in the kiss, she tugs on the strands, making Luke gasp and pull away. She takes the opening and rolls him off of her. 

“And I know yours,” she retorts. 

Luke groans, “Not fair,”

“You started it!” She sticks her tongue out at him and points to the hallway, “Go take a shower!”

“And then Great British Bake-Off?” 

Julie smiles, “Yes.” 

“Sweet,”

They both take their turns getting cleaned up. Now, costumes off, back to being Julie and Luke again, they flip on the TV. 

“One day,” Luke says as they scroll through Netflix, “One day we’ll figure this out. And we won’t have to hide anymore.” 

“Yeah,” Julie agrees, “One day. But for now, for me, this is good.” 

“Me too,” 

credit to @lydias--stiles for their super hero/ super villain names. 

#juke #jatp #blue answers asks #hero/villain AU #but they're ROOMMATES

[babbushka]

This request is dumb but I’ve been sitting on it for a while so I’m just gonna throw it out there and see what you think 😂 I love the post you made about Flip being the good husband that he is in doing yard work and stuff. I had a thought of what Flip would think of his Mrs if he came home and found her doing some manual work outside or something. Like, “oh my God, that’s my wife and she looks so hot right now 😍😍😍” Haha! Again, it’s just a silly little idea but I’m just throwing it out there 😂 xx

Anonymous said: Flip throwing his Mrs over his shoulders 😍 I think about it being some sweet chase/play thing sort of like when they play wrestled in another one shot 🥺

1k, no warnings just fluff!

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Flip is in a good fuckin’ mood. He’s off work early today, something about him workin’ too much last week and needing to balance the overtime, so it’s only a little after one o’clock that he finds himself heading back home to you. Windows rolled down, breeze in his hair, Flip smokes his camel and taps his hand on the leather of the steering wheel along with the beat of the music coming through the radio, humming along in the back of his throat.

If you were here with him, you’d be singing unashamedly, laughing and beaming at him. He doesn’t mind the solitary drive though, not when he knows he’s on his way to you. What a surprise it’s going to be for you, he thinks, he almost always calls before he heads home. Not today though, today he wants to be a little sneaky.

He stopped at the florist on the way home from work, picked up a big bouquet of those flowers you like, knowing that it’ll be a perfect touch to your spring themed dining table. He also picked up something sweet for you from the bakery that’s conveniently next door to the florist, and can’t wait to see your reaction.

In fact, he’s so wrapped up in thinking about you and how lucky he is to have you, that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating when he pulls the Chevy up to the driveway, parks, gets out of the car and gets an eyeful of you, not able to stop the raise of his eyebrow as he blurts out,

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Philly!” You gasp with joy as you abandon your task, a great big toothy grin splitting your cheeks. Dusting your hands off on the apron you wear, you half run half skip down the driveway, throwing yourself into his arms. “You’re home so early!”

When your bodies collide, Flip’s eyes close as his mouth meets yours. You’re smiling a little too hard to really pucker up properly, but that doesn’t stop Flip. He grabs at your face with his big warm palms while your arms wrap around his thick waist, and he litters your cheeks with wet smacking smooches that have you laughing and laughing.

“Excuse me ma’am, but what the hell are you doing in the dirt like this?” Flip pinches at your nose and gives your face a shake, “You’ve got it all over you.”

You had been doing some digging out in the front of the house before Flip caught you, and when he looks over he can still see your small trowel and little buckets.

“Oh I was just getting some weeding done, I didn’t want the tulips to suffer.” You wave your hand dismissively, and Flip can only smirk.

“They suffer?” He asks, playfully scandalized, and you nod solemnly.

“They suffer.” You tease right back, before cracking up into a laugh again. You knew it was silly, how much you cared for the tulips that grew in the pretty flower beds outside your house, but now that it was Spring you were too excited to not tend to them.

Flip knows this, but even as he sighs dramatically and shifts his old on you so that he’s got one arm slung across your shoulders, letting you lead him into the house, he can’t help but keep teasing.

“Well then you tell me about it, and I’ll do it for you.” He says seriously, “What kinda husband am I, lettin’ his fox of a wife do work out in the hot sun? You’re makin’ me look bad, ketsl.”

You huff out a chuckle – you didn’t have any neighbors for just about a mile in any direction being all the way up in the mountains like you were, no one is around to see.

“Aw it’s not so bad, I’ve got a big pitcher of iced tea and everything. Want a glass?” You bump your hip against his as the two of you walk up the steps of the front porch.

“Nope, you can’t distract me like that,” He shakes his head, “Is this what you do when I’m gone, hm? Toil away in the dirt when you’re supposed to be pamperin’ yourself and relaxing?”

“Flip! It was just for a few minutes I promise – ah!” You’re just about to roll your eyes when suddenly you’re upside down, Flip’s arms having slung you over his shoulder.

He’s strong, your man, and you’ve always been impressed with the way he can so easily lift you up, even if it makes your stomach swoop. You smack against his back and he just chuckles, as he nudges open the front door with his big cowboy boot.

Flip pats at your ass once or twice, before setting you right, your nose crinkled up in a playful scowl. He wishes every day could be like this; coming home early to you, when the sunshine still pours through the open curtains of the windows. You’re not working on dinner yet, Flip can tell by the way the house doesn’t smell savory, but that’s okay – in fact, that’s more than okay. It’s still early, and that gives Flip time to get to work up an appetite with you.

Despite being covered in dirt from the flower boxes, Flip doesn’t want to be anywhere other than right up next to you, so he doesn’t let you get too far before pinching your chin between his fingers.

“You’re my girl?” He asks softly, dipping down to rub his big nose against yours, lips ghosting over one another.

“I’m your girl.” You nod with another one of those heart-melting smiles, kissing the corner of his mouth before asking, “Are you really home for the whole rest of the day?”

“You fuckin’ bet ketsl,” Flip replies, making your whole face brighten up in a way that only has Flip feeling over the fucking moon, before he puts on his detective voice and orders, “Now get your ass upstairs and let me pinch at you in the shower.”

An order to which you happily comply.

--------------------

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Taggin' some Flip friends :) @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #blackkklansman #adam driver fanfic #adcu community #flip zimmerman birthday bonanza

[mxvladdy]

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

  You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed.  The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”  

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him.  “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?" 

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

#obey me fandom #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #prompts! yay

[musette22]

Burning For You

Title: Burning For You Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) Rating: Teen and up Word count: 3.1k A/N: Written for Evanstan Week day 6, a late fill for the Alternate Universe prompt. This silly piece of fluff is entirely inspired by the wonder that is the Mountain Lodge candle from the Yankee Candle Company. Yes, the one that inspired this iconic Tumblr post. The one that smells like Chris Evans. 

I was lucky enough to receive one as a gift from the wonderful @howdoyousleep3 and my life hasn't been the same since I smelled it for the first time. Thank you for introducing me to such delights baby K, ilyyy 💖 Also BIG thank you to the @evanstanweek​ team and to my beautiful beta @rainbowsandcoconut who came up with the outline for this fic when I told her my idea! Love you, boo 😘

Summary: Evanstan AU. Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

Read on AO3

“Listen, D. You’ve gotta smell this candle.” Sebastian leans in closer, nearly knocking over his - third - glass of red. “You know I’m not usually a scented candle kinda guy, but this one…” He closes his eyes and tips back his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “Incredible. Glorious. Magnificent.”

“You look like you’re about to pull a Meg Ryan in When Harry met Sally over there, Seb.”

Sebastian straightens, giving Deirdre a meaningful look across the table at the low-key SoHo bar they’re having drinks at. “You kid, but I’m this close. It’s that good, not even exaggerating.”

“Sure you’re not,” Deirdre huffs, lifting her glass and taking a sizeable gulp of her Cosmopolitan.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Sebastian shrugs. “You know, I pity you for not having experienced the delights of the Mountain Lodge candle, really. If you knew what it smelled like, you’d be singing its praises too, believe me.”

Deirdre rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll bite. What does it smell like, Sebastian, pray tell.”

Sebastian sits up eagerly. “It smells…” he starts, “like an evening in that lodge in the Green Mountains we rented with the others a couple of years ago. Remember that? How it felt to relax by the fire after a long day of hiking, the scent of cedarwood and toasted marshmallows in the air?”

“Hmmm,” Deirdre agrees. “That was nice, yeah. But hardly worth busting a nut over, I’d say.”

Sebastian holds up a single finger. “I'm not done. Because this candle doesn’t just smell like the lodge, it also smells like the lumberjack living at the lodge.”

Deirdre frowns. “There was no lumberjack living at the –”

“The metaphorical lumberjack, D, god. Work with me here a little.”

“Oh right, okay. Gotcha.”

“It smells,” Sebastian continues, undeterred, “like soft, worn flannel. Like beard oil and a hint of clean sweat. It smells like a big, strong, gorgeous man who just got done hewing a ginormous tree with his massive axe and cutting it down into firewood, which he’s now using to light the very fireplace in front of which he’ll make sweet, sweet love to you, on the rug that’s actually the skin of a bear that attacked his rescue dog and which this man fought off and killed with his own bare hands.”

“Whooofffff,” Deirdre says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Fine, I’m starting to see the attraction.”

“It smells…” Sebastian goes on, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering his clincher, “like Chris Evans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Deirdre groans loudly, sagging back in her chair. “Ughh, shoulda known this was coming. For chrissake, Sebastian, you literally cannot go even one night without bringing up Chris Evans, can you?”

“I totally can,” Sebastian protests, like the mature, professional, Times-employed literary critic he is. “But you don’t understand, D. This candle, it’s actually like they bottled the very essence of Chris Evans and then infused a candle with it. It’s life-changing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a permanent boner for Chris Evans, you wanna marry him and have his little bearded babies, tell me something I don’t know,” Deirdre sighs, draining the last of her drink and immediately starting to look around for the waiter to order a new one. Distantly, Sebastian notices the song playing in the background changing to The Smith’s ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want'. Ah, if only.

“Listen to me,” Sebastian insists, unconsciously starting to speak louder, like he’s some small-town preacher trying to make his ignorant clergy see the light. “Deirdre, darling, you’re one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, when you smell this candle, you too will feel like you’re being engulfed in the embrace of the brilliant, spectacular, totally unique smokeshow that goes by the name of Chris Evans. It’s as if the man himself is wrapping those huge, muscled arms of his around you, crushing you to his wide chest as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while his beard brushes your temple and you inhale his masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat, I swear to god – D, are you even listening?”

At some point during the last part of Sebastian’s homily, Deirdre’s eyes drifted to a point over his right shoulder and got stuck there.

“Did you just- zone out?” Sebastian asks indignantly, waving a hand in front of her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Hello? Earth to Deirdre.”

“Seb,” Deirdre says, still not looking at Sebastian.

“Oh, I see,” Sebastian barrels on. “Here I am, pouring my heart out, telling you I found a candle that smells exactly like the man of my dreams and you’re just… What are you doing, actually? Are you okay?”

At this point, Deirdre’s eyes have gone comically round, mouth hanging open just a little. “Sebastian,” she repeats, more urgently now – and just as he’s turning his head to find out what put that dumbfounded look on her face, someone nearby clears their throat.

Sebastian startles, looking up at the man who’s appeared next to their table.

“Hi,” the man says in a deep, rich voice.

A deep, rich voice that Sebastian knows all too well. A deep, rich voice that belongs to none other than Chris Evans, Hollywood heartthrob and actual smokeshow, himself.

Oh.

Sebastian gapes while Chris, dressed in dark wash jeans, a red flannel shirt and a brown shearling jacket, smiles at him patiently. He’s all soft-looking beard and strong nose and bulging biceps and long, lean legs, and Sebastian has died and gone to heaven.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Chris says, “but was just sitting a table over and I couldn’t help but overhear.”

And from one moment to the next, Sebastian crashes forcefully back to earth. His whole body goes cold, the blood draining from his face so quickly he feels dizzy with it.

Fuck. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. There is no way this is actually happening.

Except it is.

Sebastian had just been extremely, loudly and publicly horny about the very guy that’s standing next to him right now. The guy who is no doubt about to give Sebastian a piece of his mind at best, and a right hook to the jaw at worst. And honestly, he’d deserve it.

Since Sebastian wouldn’t even know where to begin apologizing, he says nothing. Just keeps staring at Chris in ever-growing horror, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly it almost drowns out the miserable sound of Morrissey still pleading in the background.

Chris clears his throat. “So,” he says, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “This candle smells like me, huh?”

Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- Oh my god, please, please, please just forget you heard any of that.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Puzzled, Sebastian chances a glance at Chris from between his fingers. He’s partly still covering his face out of embarrassment, and partly because Chris is so gorgeous in real life that Sebastian isn’t sure he could look at him directly without spontaneously combusting. It’s like staring at the fucking sun. He doesn’t seem too angry, though, thank god. In fact, there’s an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that makes Sebastian’s shoulders relax infinitesimally.

“Because it was incredibly inappropriate?” Sebastian suggests, honestly a bit confused about having to explain this to him.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “It sounded pretty great. Kinda want to smell it for myself now.”

For some unfathomable reason – probably because unexpectedly seeing his long-time celebrity crush in the flesh broke his brain, Sebastian blurts out, “Oh, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at my apartment.”

Slowly, Chris raises a single eyebrow. The look sends a shiver straight down Sebastian’s spine, from the crown of his head right down to his toes. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies breathlessly.

Chris’s gaze drops down to Sebastian’s brown leather boots before slowly travelling back up to his face. “I gotta say, normally someone would at least have to buy me dinner first, but…” He trails off, looking Sebastian straight in the eye before finishing, “I am really curious about this candle.”

“You are?” Sebastian says dumbly, and then “Ow!” when Deirdre delivers an impressively precise kick to his shin under the table. He turns to give her a betrayed look, but when he meets her eyes, with which she’s clearly trying very hard to communicate something to him, he finally catches on. “Oh!” Sebastian whips back around to Chris, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I- you- you mean like…” He swallows hard. “You wanna come back to my place to, uh, smell the candle?”

Although Chris’s expression remains amused, there’s a hint of trepidation there as well. “Sure,” he says, smiling crookedly. “If… that’s something you’re up for?”

Sebastian’s mind races. The way he sees it, there are two possibilities. Either Chris Evans is actually standing here in the flesh, propositioning him, or Sebastian hit his head in the bathroom earlier and is actually just lying on the dirty tile floor, hallucinating as a result of severe head trauma. The second option seems by far the most likely, but then, his shin does hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Well, fuck.

Sebastian clears his throat and sits up straighter, running a hand through his longish hair. “I mean, yeah, that’s- wow. That. That would be okay with me, uh huh. You mean like, now?”

“If that works for you?”

Without thinking, Sebastian says, “Well, I’m here with Deirdre –” before letting out another sharp yelp as said Deirdre crushes his toes under her heel. “Jesus, D!”

Deirdre ignores him. “Ohhh, would you look at the time,” she exclaims, holding up her wrist which very much doesn’t have a watch on it. “Boy, it’s much later than I thought. I really oughta get going, early start tomorrow.” She yawns theatrically, then grabs her purse and throws down two twenties on the table. “It was lovely seeing you, Sebastian, Chris… Evans,” she adds, with a wooden nod in Chris’s direction. “Hope you two have a lovely evening, bye now!”

And she’s gone.

They both stare after her for a second, and then Chris chuckles – a low sound that reverberates pleasantly in Sebastian’s chest. “Well,” Chris says, turning back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

Sebastian stands, taking Chris’s hand, which is warm and big and ever so slightly calloused, and exactly like Sebastian always imagined. “Yeah, I know,” he says, because he’s cool like that. And then, in a show of bravura that surprises even himself, Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze, tilts his head a fraction, and says, “So uh, my place?”

Chris smiles, casually dropping a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks, before taking a step to the side to let Sebastian pass. “Lead the way,” he says, lightly resting his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back as they make their way towards the exit.

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

It’s only once they’re outside and the cold February night air manages to cool down Sebastian’s overheated brain somewhat that it occurs to him to ask if Chris wasn’t at the bar with anyone.

“I met a friend for drinks but he just left,” Chris explains. “I was just waiting for the bill when I overheard you guys.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” Sebastian asks, because he’s nothing if not a self-sabotaging idiot.

They’re still standing outside the bar, the golden light radiating from a nearby lamppost decorated with a cluster of luminous orbs making Chris look softer, somehow. Still a Hollywood heartthrob, but also charmingly human. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to make Sebastian any less infatuated. If anything, it only endears Chris to him more, which he really didn’t think was possible.

“Not really, no,” Chris replies, amusement in his tone. “I was just gonna go back to my hotel and read for a bit.”

Sebastian perks up at the mention of his area of expertise. “Oh, yeah? What’re you reading?”

“I haven’t started it yet, but it’s this history of space travel? I read a great review of it in the Times the other day, so I thought I’d give it a go.” With a self-deprecating smile, Chris adds, “I’m kind of a space nerd.”

Sebastian blinks. “Not ‘To Infinity and Beyond’, by any chance?”

“That’s the one,” Chris confirms. “You know it?”

“I wrote the review.”

Chris’s eyes go round. “You did not.”

In lieu of replying, Sebastian digs up his wallet from his pocket, takes out his Times-employee card and holds it up for Chris’s inspection.

“Huh,” Chris says, studying the card. “What are the odds.” When his eyes turn back to Sebastian’s, he suddenly breaks out into a grin, wide and boyish. “Well, I guess that explains a thing or two.”

“How do you mean?” Sebastian frowns.

“I mean, that review was brilliantly written so you clearly have a way with words.” With a sly look, Chris goes on, “which explains your colorful descriptions of that candle earlier. The masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat was especially vivid.”

Sebastian groans, dragging a hand down over his face. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.”

Chris eyes shine with genuine mirth as he laughs, “Hey, come on, don’t worry about it.” He takes a step closer, ducking his head to try and catch Sebastian’s eyes, which are now firmly fixed on the pavement in an attempt to conjure up a hole to swallow him. “Call me a narcissist, but I didn’t exactly hate overhearing a gorgeous guy describing me as the man of his dreams.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian mutters, feeling himself turn a fetching shade of crimson. Trying to hide his blush, he turns around abruptly and nearly walks into the lamppost.

Chris, his savior, his knight in shining armor, manages to grab him by the back of his coat just in time to avoid the imminent collision. Sebastian still stumbles, but strong, capable arms wrapping securely around his waist keep him upright.

Carefully, Sebastian turns in Chris’s embrace so they’re facing each other, though he can’t quite make himself look Chris in the eye yet. “I’m guessing you caught on to this by now,” Sebastian tells the St Christopher pendant resting on Chris’s sternum, “but I’m kind of a disaster.”

Chris just hums, lifting a hand to tilt up Sebastian’s chin with his index finger, a small smile playing on his lips. “A beautiful one, though,” he whispers into the negligible space between them, before he closes that space and presses soft, full lips to Sebastian’s own.

Sebastian can’t suppress the small sound that escapes him when their lips meet, eyes closing on instinct as he lets himself sink into the kiss. Lets Chris take charge and coax open Sebastian’s mouth by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips. Sebastian doesn’t think twice about letting him in. When their tongues touch, sweet and soft and languid, he trembles, pressing closer. Chris tastes a little like beer, and while Sebastian’s never been overly fond of beer, it takes approximately two seconds of being kissed by the hottest man on the planet for it to magically turn into Sebastian’s new favorite taste. Ever.

The kiss starts off slow; a little cautious maybe, as if Chris still isn’t entirely sure it’s welcomed. But then Sebastian’s hands find their way to Chris’s waist, fingers gripping tightly, and Chris slides a hand into Sebastian’s hair, angling his head gently to the left to deepen the kiss – and suddenly, Sebastian’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He moans, relishing the feel of Chris's soft beard scratching at his clean-shaven cheeks, and way Chris takes control of the kiss, like something right out of every embarrassing fantasy he's ever had.

When Chris hums against his lips, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Sebastian is, Sebastian’s knees go all weak and useless. It’s a good thing that Chris is there, tightening his left arm around his waist and pulling him more securely against the hard lines of his own body – which actually doesn’t do a thing to help Sebastian’s current knee situation. He whimpers, curling his hands into the fabric of Chris’s coat to anchor himself.

When Chris finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far. His breathing has deepened, warm puffs of air caressing Sebastian’s tingling, wet lips. Sebastian exhales shakily. The way his head is spinning might be partially due to the wine, but it's definitely mostly because of Chris sweeping him off his feet with his smooth, movie star ways.

Needing a moment to gain his composure before he speaks, Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Chris’s neck, taking a deep, steadying breath –

Oh.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans.

Sebastian feels rather than hears Chris’s quiet laugh; feels the vibrations of it shake his broad chest under Sebastian’s palms. “Yeah? Do I really smell like your candle?”

“Better,” Sebastian mutters. On instinct, he presses his lips against Chris’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from him.

“You know,” Chris rumbles into Sebastian’s ear. “I still think I need to smell this magical thing for myself. Make sure you’re not just flattering me to get into my pants, y'know?”

Christ.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Definitely, good thinking. Empirical evidence is paramount. In fact, it’s totally possible I’m just mixing things up right now because my brain’s all” – he makes a poof motion with his hands, trusting Chris will get his drift – “so I think maybe I’ll need to do some comparative research.”

Chris tilts his head in though. “Hands-on research?”

“I think that’s best, yes,” Sebastian concurs.

“Right. Well, out of the two of us, you’re definitely the higher educated one, so I’m just gonna take your word for that.” After a beat, Chris adds, “as long as I get to test a theory or two of my own.”

“Oh?” Sebastian licks his lips. “Such as?”

The wicked glint in Chris’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Chris is sliding his hand back into Sebastian’s hair and giving it a firm, experimental tug.

“Ah,” Sebastian breathes, his eyelids fluttering, the blood rushing south so fast he feels dizzy – again.

Chris grins smugly. “Such as that.”

“Okay,” Sebastian croaks. “Yeah, that seems fair.” Wasting no more time, he reaches out to grab Chris’s free hand and starts to pull him along the pavement in the direction of his apartment.

Chris, laughing as he squeezes Sebastian’s hand, follows closely behind.  

🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥

Read on AO3

#evanstan week 2021 #evanstan #rpf #chris evans x sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan #my fic #my writing #heeeyyyy look at that I still write! #just took a little break #sorry about that 😅 #hope you enjoy!!

[elvish-sky]

Say That Again {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: Do I really like this fic? Yes, I do. Will I possibly be re-writing it and turning it into a multi-part? Yes, I will. Thank you so much to the two Anons who requested this- I kinda went a little off of your exact requests, so I hope that’s ok, but I was super inspired by them. I’m very proud of this, and I really hope you all like it!

Requested by Anons on Tumblr: Can I request a Legolas x reader fic where the reader is an archivist for the library in Mirkwood and Legolas begins to visit more often just to see the reader? Over the months, they get very close and eventually end up confessing/sharing a small kiss, and the reader whispers, “I love you.” afterward. Legolas, having not heard those words directed towards him in a long time, is breathless. then, shyly, he tells the reader to say it again😶

and

Hey! I love your writing, by the way. I know you probably get a lot of these, so no pressure, but I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader fic? maybe where the reader is like an archivist/librarian for the woodland realm, and Legolas is doing research on the sickness in his homeland. together, they both find that Sauron has returned, and become really close over the time they’ve spent together. maybe the reader could join the fellowship with him? it’s just an idea based on a fic I read a while ago. you could do what you like with it, but I thought you could turn it into whatever you like. Thanks!

Word Count: 1,431

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, other than that I think that’s it. 

****

Say That Again

You sat curled up in your favorite chair in the back corner of the library and began to read, taking a break from your work. You were an archivist for the Library of the Woodland Realm, and you loved your job. Books were one of your favorite things in life, and so it was only natural for you to work in the library. Not only was it full of tomes of knowledge, but it was also absolutely stunning. Like everything else in the kingdom, it embodied nature, with smooth sweeping arches of stone and vines trailing along the walls. There were cuts in the stone to allow sunlight to brighten the dark, and the dust shone in the sunbeam on your table that was also illuminating your (h/c) hair, making it glow.

You looked up as someone plopped into the seat across from you. Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm, had started visiting the library rather suddenly several weeks ago, looking for answers about the blight and darkness that were spreading through the forest. Shocked at first about how much he cared about the forest, and then even more so at how interested he was in you, it had been rather awkward at first. He was the prince, and you were just another elf, of no importance. Despite your differences, you had become fast friends, although you had wished for more since you had first laid eyes on him, years ago. 

He slammed a thick book down onto the table. “I think this one may contain the answers!” You glanced at the title. Blights of Nature and Their Causes. As much as you did not want to get your hopes up, this one looked promising. 

“Where did you find this?” you flipped open the cover, admiring the pretty endpapers. Whoever had authored this book had clearly taken the time to make sure it was presentable.

“In the ‘Ancient Lore’ section, the top of the last shelf.” You could tell he had been in the far reaches of the library, he was absolutely covered in dust. You absentmindedly reached out to brush off his shoulder, making him blush, but you quickly withdrew your hand once you realized what you were doing. 

“What were you doing back there?” 

“I figured that we’ve had no luck looking in the places where it would make sense to find answers, so I looked in a place where it wouldn’t make sense.” 

You chuckled at his explanation. “That may be the least-well thought out reasoning I have ever heard.” 

“Nevertheless, this one might be it. I mean, it mentions blights in the title! What’s happening outside is definitely a blight.” 

You could understand his excitement. You had been looking for some sort of explanation for weeks, and the darkness was only spreading. You bent over the book, head bowed next to his as you poured over the pages together.

Sometime later, you awoke, hearing a gasp, to find your head resting on Legolas’ chest. You were somehow lying between his legs with the book resting on your stomach as he peered at it over your shoulder. “What is it?” you responded to his cry, blinking groggily. “I think I’ve found something.” Your eyes scanned the page he was on, flying across the words as you searched for what he meant. They came to a rest on the line A spreading of darkness in a forest, and an infestation of dark creatures, often herald the arrival of dark sorcery. 

“Dark sorcery?” you glanced up at him, your worry mirrored in his eyes looking back at you. 

“It makes sense,” you could feel his mind spinning, sense his brain questioning, searching for an answer. “But what sorcery is strong enough to corrupt the Woodland Realm?”

 “I do not know,” you replied. “But I fear for all our safety against one this powerful. We must learn who is doing this.” 

“I know of someone who may be able to answer our questions.” Legolas strode into the library the next morning with a purposeful air. You looked up from your work. He was wearing a tunic and leather boots, like always, and his hair loose except for those two small braids on either side of his head. He looked, to put it simply, absolutely wonderful. But then, when did he not?

You were sure that you didn’t look half as put together- you had spent the whole night after he left-which was admittedly not much, he had stayed pretty late- pouring over ancient manuscripts and old texts, trying to find mention of any sorcerers powerful enough to corrupt a whole forest. You had found nothing, and looked rather worse for wear.

“Who?” you were frantically attempting to rein in your unruly hair as you spoke.

“Gandalf the Grey. I sent him a bird last night and he replied, he has found something most troubling and thinks it may be related. I’m traveling to Rivendell today on unrelated business and he’ll be there, so I’ll ask him then.” 

Now you were busy brushing out your clothes and picking lint off of them. Legolas looked at you, eyes drawn from where they had been steadily focused on the wall behind you by your frantic movements. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He grabbed your hand. “I’m just… nothing.” You looked down in embarrassment, eyes firmly fixed on his boots. “You’re primping, aren’t you?” “Well, it’s not fair for you to just tramp in here looking perfect all the time!” You stepped back from him, realizing what you had just said. “Well, you- uh- you don’t look perfect, per se, more like… well put together!” 

Your self-conscious stammering had just made you feel worse. “Look, Legolas. I’m sorry. I very much did not mean to say that.” “It’s ok, Y/N. I do look pretty great.” He did a little twirl to show off just how great, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks again. 

“Now, Y/N, you might want to go upstairs and grab some things for the road if we want to be out of the forest by midday.”

“Wait- I’m coming?”

“Of course, Y/N! You didn’t think that after all of the help you gave me you wouldn’t be included when we finally get our answer?” 

Sheepishly, you nodded.

“Ok, well, go pack. I’ll put these books back and be waiting ready to go.”

“Thank you, Legolas!” you exclaimed as you turned to the door. “Love you!” 

“What did you just say?” Legolas spoke, and you spun to see him, face pale with shock, leaning against your table. 

“I said thanks.” It had been a passing comment, and you didn’t remember saying anything else. Until you did. “Oh, shit!” you clapped a hand over your mouth and internally smacked yourself. If he did not dislike me for my oddities before, he’ll hate me now, you thought. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Legolas. It was just a slip of the tongue, it meant nothing…” you trailed off as he stepped closer to you.

He grabbed your chin in his hand, gazing into your eyes. “Say that again.” 

“It meant nothing?” you were so very confused. 

“No, Y/N. The other thing.” He looked mildly exasperated with you now but was still gazing at you with that peculiar expression on his face.

“I love you?” you stammered, wondering if that was, in fact, the right thing to say. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

With this, his hand on your chin guided your lips to press against his. Finally, you thought as you melted into the kiss, surrendering yourself to him. You had wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening. Your hands were tangled in his hair like you’d wanted them to be ever since you’d first met him. One of his was supporting your neck, and the other was wrapped around your back, pulling you closer into him.

Panting, you broke away. “I should go pack. We want to be on the road soon.” He nodded, seeming to come back to reality. “I’ll be waiting here when your ready, melleth nin.” He said the words to your retreating back, and as you heard them you smiled. Spinning around again, you strode back to him and grabbed his shirt to pull his lips down to yours. “We can wait ten more minutes, right?” “Of course.” He kissed you again, and you lost yourself in him, his arms wrapped around you, holding on to each other as you would be for the rest of your lives. 

Everything tag 💖: @entishramblings @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1

Legolas tag: @sheriffgerard

#lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #the hobbit #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas fanfic #legolas imagines #legolas imagine #legolas one shot #legolas fic #legolas thranduilion #legolas greenleaf #woodland realm #mirkwood #legolas fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #maiawrites

[kylo-glenn]

if i want your love (nsfw)

kylo ren/reader

summary: kylo comes home later than usual to find you awaiting him in the bath

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: female reader, vaginal sex, handjobs, fingering, finger sucking, choking, inappropriate use of the force, one mention of reader’s hair being pulled, sort of rough sex, pet names (baby and honey - both used by reader), bathroom sex, unprotected sex, mentions of love

a/n: it has been...a very long time since i wrote anything nsfw in nature. and a long time since i’ve written kylo. so please go easy on me. i kinda started giving up halfway through and i didn’t edit it. but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. :)

read on ao3

It was dark when Kylo Ren returned to his quarters--shared quarters. Shared with you. You, who was nowhere to be found. But Kylo didn't call for you, for he could see a dim, flickering light spilling out underneath the door leading to the refresher. He discarded his mask somewhere along his trek, the sound of his boots against the floor breaking through the silence that had existed within the living space.

The ‘fresher was where he found you. A few lit candles littered the counter, the source of the light. And there you were, basking in the dancing light. Bare in the bath, as though you’d been there a while. You seemed, and you were, unbothered by his presence. Your eyes were closed, not a sign of tension on your dewey face. Of course, Kylo couldn’t help but think you looked otherworldly. He didn’t think you belonged here with him. You deserved to bathe in stars and moonlight, not in a cold, almost clinical refresher.

But you were happy as can be. Your eyes only opened once you heard the sounds of his steps halt and you could feel him above you. You took the half-empty glass of water you’d brought in with you in hand, a sleepy smile on your lips as you took a sip. “You’re back late,” you commented. Not that he had a set time he would come home to you, but the two of you were at least in bed by this time, normally.

You could have gone to bed in his absence, you had before. But this particular night, you couldn’t sleep without him.

“I know,” his face tensed at the mention of it, and you decided not to push the subject of what kept him from you. He took the glass from you, taking a sip of the water himself before he moved it to rest on the counter. You didn’t mind. What was yours was his, and vice versa. 

You did mind, though, the way he avoided catching his own reflection in the mirror. It was something he’d been in the habit of since he’d acquired the scar. “Kylo,” you called his attention, holding your arms out for him, fingers beckoning for him to return to you. There was no hesitation in his movements, coming to you like a moth to a flame. 

He kneeled for you beside the tub, letting your wet hands weave through his hair, dampening the dark strands. A gloved hand encompassed one of your wrists, his other hand finding your face. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his while his thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone. Your nose nuzzled against his before your lips grazed his, teasing him before you finally gave in and properly pressed your lips to his. You revelled in the soft noises he made, how easy his breathing quickened. 

Kylo, of course, wasn’t satisfied by the soft touches, the soft kisses. He wanted more. He’d come home wanting more. You supposed you were happy to oblige, as much as you found amusement in working him up. You knew there’d be days where he’d give in, let you take your time with him. But today was not that day. As it was, Kylo Ren was not a patient man. 

His hand released your wrist, only to reaffirm his grip at the back of your head, keeping your lips pressed to his. The hand on your face drifted, too. His fingertips lightly danced down your cheek, down your neck. Your skin tingled where his fingers had trailed your skin. He stopped there, at your neck, his hand encircling your throat. Your breath hitched, awaiting the feeling of the leather squeezing at your neck. It had become a familiar sensation over the course of your relationship with Kylo.

Sometimes you wonder what it did for him. Was it the control, the power over someone else? Or maybe it was the fact that you trusted him. Trusted him not to kill you. To not let you struggle for air or crush your windpipe. Maybe it was all of that. Maybe it was more than that. You didn’t know. But you liked it, and so did he, which was good enough for the both of you.

His grip tightened around your neck, but he surprised you this time. It wasn’t rough, it wasn’t dominating, despite his demanding kisses. He was simply feeling you. Feeling the racing of your pulse, the blood rushing through you. 

You were burning. You’d maintained a comfortable warmth when you relaxed on your lonesome, but Kylo’s hands, his lips, his energy...everything about  him  had you feeling like the water you were submerged in was boiling. 

There was only one fix for that, and that was for him to get you out of the bath.

Your fingers tangled in strands of his hair and you pulled at it, sending a sharp pain through Kylo’s head. But it only turned into pleasure for him, he already knew that wasn’t the proper response to pain. He didn’t care. His cock was already hard, restrained by his pants, only now it was aching to be freed. 

His grip tightened around your neck, finally a familiar pressure, before his hand travelled lower. He palmed your breast and your little moan was muffled against his lips. But you wouldn’t be silenced for much longer as his kisses trailed down your jaw, finding your neck just as his thumb brushed over your nipple, the seam of his glove catching. An unaltered gasp came from your throat. “Kylo,” you breathed his name, one of your hands moving from his hair to his shoulder, as if you could pull him closer, into the bath with you. You pulled at the fabric, wishing for him to be rid of it.

His teeth nipped at your neck and he hummed, mumbling your name into your skin as his hand moved lower. Lower, into the water and between your legs. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it up and down a few times, eliciting another moan from you. Your hand shot to grip his wrist, “You’re getting your sleeve wet,” you mumbled, as if it mattered. As if the two of you hadn’t gone well past the point that it mattered.

“Shh,” he hissed at you, his finger sliding inside of you all too easily, “Does it look like I care?”

“Mm, no,” you giggled, your laughs turning into moans as he pushed his finger in and drug it out. A painfully slow pace, testing your readiness. 

“You’re so wet for me already,” he could tell. Even with his gloves, even with the water. He could tell by just how easily you accepted his fingers. He knew how your body worked.

He pushed a second finger inside of you, his thumb giving attention to your clit. His pace quickened to satisfy your need. He fed off of it. Fed off of your pleasure, your gasps and your moans. The way your head fell back as his fingers found that spot inside of you. The way you clenched around him, tightening as he got you closer to your peak.

He could’ve let you finish right there, but that would’ve been too easy. He liked to work you up, just as much as you did him. Besides, he needed more of you. More than just your skin between his teeth, more than his fingers buried in your cunt.

With a growl his fingers left you right before you could cum, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied. But he didn’t give you a chance to so much as whine before his hands hooked under your arms, yanking your body out of the water. His arms adjusted, one firmly wrapping around your waist, holding your naked body against his. Your feet never touched the ground as he moved you, his other arm sweeping across the counter to toss the candles and the glass of water out of his way. Out of your way, as he set you on the cool countertop.

His lips were on yours again, his tongue warm and welcomed into your mouth. This position was better for the both of you. He could grope you with much more ease, his hands palming your breasts, gripping your hips, your thighs. Anything he could get his hands on.

You finally got to get your own hands on him, properly. Your hands went for his belt, unclipping the thing and letting it–and the lightsaber that was hung on it–hit the ground with a loud thump. Neither of you so much as flinched and your fingers worked to unzip his first layer of clothes. His hands were forced to part from you for the briefest moment as you pushed the heavy cloth off of his body, it joining his belt and lightsaber on the ground.

He still had another damn shirt on underneath that, but first you focused on pulling his gloves off of his hands, which was a great effort considering Kylo was resistant to not having a hold on you at any given time. But you managed to get them off and fling them in some direction. Kylo could find them later. 

Really, Kylo was glad to be rid of them. Now he could really feel you, the softness of your thighs, the curves of your body, hands gliding over your wet skin. You slipped your hands under his shirt, feeling the solidity of his abdomen. Feeling his muscles move beneath your touch. He was incredibly muscular, strong. But there was still a soft, fleshy layer to him that you loved to exploit. You loved to grip and scratch. Bite, if he’d let you. For the moment, though, your hands wandered upwards, running your hands over his chest.

Your fingers found his nipples, your thumbs brushing over them softly before you pinched, earning a sharp inhalation from Kylo, a curse falling from his lips. His cock twitched in his pants and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without fucking you. 

It was your turn for your lips to explore his skin this time. You pressed kisses on his cheek, along his jaw. You parted from him only to pull his shirt over his head and then your mouth was on his neck, kissing along his scar before biting into his unmarked skin. If he could mark your body then you could mark his. 

You reached lower, palming him through his pants, stroking along his length. You felt a low groan in his throat, rumbling but not quite escaping yet. You were determined to get more out of him. You worked open his pants, slipping your hand into the waistband of his boxers. You laved at the marks you made in his skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickled your skin, but not as much as the shaky breath he let out in response to your hand working his cock. Your thumb ran over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum that beaded there.

“Fuck, Kylo,” you nibbled at his earlobe as your wrist twisted, continuing your stroking of his cock, his hips bucking into the feeling. “You’re so hard, baby. You feel so good,” you encouraged as you picked up speed, Kylo groaning in your ear. His teeth clamped down on your shoulder, hands looking for grip wherever he could get it. Your body, the counter.

He didn’t know what to do with himself.

His tongue soothed over the teeth marks in your skin, “I’d feel even better in your tight little pussy.”

Just his words made you whine, your cunt clenching around nothing. You wanted to be clenching around him. “Stars, Kylo. I want you, honey. I  need  you.”

And just like the power dynamic switched, even though you were the one with your hand in his pants. He was in control again and he lifted his head to look at you, one hand gripping your hair and pulling your head back to give himself a better view. “You think you’re ready for me?” His tone was vaguely condescending, teasing.

You debated whether or not to be snarky, but in reality you weren’t even able to form a sentence. You hummed an affirmative, “Mhm.”

His free hand found your arm, stopping your pumping of his cock to guide your hand to your own cunt. “Show me,” was his command, and you could only do as he said.

Your fingers circled your clit before dipping inside of yourself. Your eyes were focused on his face, but his eyes were on your pussy, watching your fingers disappear. You’d been telling the truth, about your readiness. It was audible, it was visible. You were absolutely dripping, glistening not from the water of your bath but from your own slick. Kylo’s mouth watered at the sight, his fingers finding your clit as you moved in and out of yourself. But really, it was him you wanted inside of you. His fingers, his tongue, his cock. Anything.

He obliged, once. His fingers moved inside of you, along with your own, just so he could drench his fingers with you. The thickness of him and the much smaller feeling of your own touch pulled out of you, him guiding your hand to his mouth. “Open,” he ordered and you obeyed, your own lips parting for him to push the length of his fingers into your mouth. You tasted yourself on him, your eyes locked with his as you sucked and licked.

He took your fingers into his mouth then, tongue lapping at the wetness you’d left. He moaned at the taste of you and something finally snapped in him. He yanked his fingers out of your mouth, coming off of yours with a pop. His lips smashed against yours, a wet mess as your tongues met. His arms wrapped around you, your legs moving around his hips as he lifted you off the counter.

He carried you from the ‘fresher to the bedroom, unceremoniously tossing you onto the made bed that would soon be soaked through and ruined. You moved yourself up the bed as Kylo kicked off his boots and shed the remainder of his clothes. Finally, you got to see him in all his glory. Naked, panting. His cock hung, impressive and excited. You craved the feeling of him stretching you out, splitting you open.

Your eyes locked with Kylo’s and no words needed to be exchanged. His knees hit the bed and he quickly kissed up your body from your thighs, over your stomach, briefly spending some time with his pretty lips wrapped around your nipples. He found his way up your body, planting a quick kiss to your lips before he propped himself up, one hand settled next to your head and the other moving between both of your bodies.

He took his cock in hand, stroking himself as he lined himself up with your cunt. He dragged the tip of his dick over your clit a couple times, getting himself slick with you before he lined himself up with your entrance. He sharply inhaled as he pushed inside of you, revelling in the feeling of you encompassing his length, squeezing him so, so tight.

A moan was caught in your throat as he sheathed himself inside of you, filling you to the brim. You couldn’t help the way your pussy clenched around him over and over as you adjusted to the feeling of him. “Fuck,” he cursed through clenched teeth. “You’re going to...I have to…” Kylo seemed to lose any sense as he rested inside you, not yet thrusting in and out of you. He was afraid if he got into it, he’d spill inside of you sooner than he’d like. Before he could get you gushing on his cock.

He adjusted to your tightness just as you adjusted to his size. He didn’t ask you if you were ready before he began to move. You only had a few thrusts to get used to his movement before he found his rhythm, his pace. He liked it hard, fast. He liked it when all you could do was cry for him, moan, when the only words that came out of your mouth was nonsensical begging. He liked watching your tits bounce, your body react to every thrust. When your nails scratched at his arms, his back, anything you could dig them into. 

You liked it when he fucked you deep, hitting your cervix. It was borderline painful. It would be even more so if you weren’t soaking wet, if you didn’t like the way it hurt. If invisible fingers didn’t soothe over the pain with pleasure, manipulating your aching clit just the way you liked. If Kylo didn’t whisper into your ear how hot your pussy was, how it belonged to him, how he was going to fill you with his cum. 

His hand found your throat again, putting only a partial amount of his weight, his grip onto that hand. He knew it could become too much too fast, so he was careful to only give you enough to see stars, to choke on your own moans.

Your eyes were locked onto his face, watched as his jaw clenched and then hung open with every thrust of his cock inside of you. With every slap of his skin against yours he grunted, he moaned, he used your name like a swear. Sweat beaded at his hairline, dripping into his creased brow. There was a wild determination in his eyes. 

Your stomach tightened, your pussy squeezed around Kylo. You were getting close, even he could tell. Tears began to brim in your eyes as you squirmed, as your legs locked around him. You were desperate, chasing whatever would put you over the edge. “Please, Kylo,” you choked out a whine.

You earned a growl from him, his grip on your neck fully constricting you now. You knew you’d be bruised tomorrow. “What do you want?” He couldn’t just let you have it, never.

You had no energy, no breath to curse him, you could only give in to what he wanted to hear. “I want to cum, Kylo, I want you to make me cum.” 

“You want to cum? Go on then, cum for me. Cum on my cock,” he growled, his pace unrelenting. The Force never stopped the friction on your clit, only sped up as your stomach knotted and your muscles tightened.

“Kiss me, Kylo, please,” you wanted his mouth on yours and he didn’t torture you before giving into your request.

His swollen lips met yours, wet, hot. The two of you panted into each other's mouths more than anything. He rocked his hips into you as your brow furrowed, as you stilled, and as a moan caught in the back of your throat, holding out for the moment he pushed you over the edge. Your vision blurred as you came with a cry, the sound of his name in the midst of it somewhere. You spasmed around his cock, erratically clenching and unclenching as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” he breathlessly praised, the arm that held him over you gave out and he nearly crushed you as his weight now rested on his elbow. His hand abandoned your throat, finding a new home gripping your jaw in his hands. His thrusts grew sloppier, he was close. Your own orgasm hadn’t quite sent him over the edge, but he wasn’t far behind. “Fuck,” he was the one whining now, desperate to follow you.

His grip on your jaw hurt, but it didn’t stop you from brushing his sweat drenched hair away from his face, from whispering praises to him. Telling him how good he fucked you, how much you wanted him. “Cum for me, Kylo. Cum in me, baby, I want you to cum in me.” The words falling from your lips made his cock throb, his balls tighten. He was almost there… 

“I love you, Kylo. Cum for me.” He wouldn’t admit it, but those were the words that sent him over the edge. That had him still inside of you, spilling his load into you with a shout. He gave a few final, slow pumps into you as his own orgasm subsided, letting both your cum and his mingle inside of you.

He released your jaw from his grip as he all but collapsed on top of you, though he was careful to not put all his weight on you. Your arms wrapped around him, gently stroking up and down his back as you pressed kisses to his forehead. Both of you were panting, struggling to even out your breathing.

A few moments passed before the two of you were calm again, your heavy panting quieting into a few deep inhalations. You were first to break the silence. “I love you,” you repeated, kissing the top of his head. It wasn’t the first time you said it, far from it. But it was still a struggle for Kylo to grasp the fact. He secretly, certainly didn’t want you to stop saying it. But he had yet to say it back himself.

And you wouldn’t pressure him to. He showed you his own love for you in different ways.

He took a final deep breath, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts, one to soothe over the bruises and marks on your neck, and finally a quick but sweet peck to your lips. His cock pulled out of you as he moved to get up, the mixture of your cum leaking out of you. For now, he wiped it away with the sheets. They were already soaked through by the excess moisture from your bath, as well as sweat. He’d clean you up better in the shower.

“I’ll get fresh bedding,” he told you. “You should get in the shower.”

“I have to clean up the refresher,” you commented, drowsy after your activities. The floor was soaked, Kylo’s clothes were strewn about. There was probably solidified wax all over from when Kylo knocked over the candles you’d set up for your nighttime bath.

“I’ll handle it.”

You reached for him, resting your palm against his cheek. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. With you, here, this was the only time he felt at ease enough to truly relax. You brushed your thumb along the length of his nose, over his lips. “You’ll join me after?”

He simply hummed in confirmation, opening his eyes. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm before he returned your own hand to you. You blinked, albeit it was a slow one, and he was up, moving to clean up the mess the two of you made.

#kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fic #kylo ren smut #kylo ren/you #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #ben solo #we get it its about kylo ren

[herstarburststories]

Leather for Two

Kinktober day 9: Bondage

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

@theicariantouch said: bondage but it's your reader binding her arms behind her back and riding dean til kingdom come & emphasis on the physical ache and how she is unable to really control the speed because that's all on dean

Warnings: smut, p in v, riding, restraints, power play (kinda), sub & dom dynamic

You aren't one for leather. Maybe you are a classy girl of silk, or anything that didn’t hurt animals, but you had to admit that nothing felt better than the rough texture of leather knotting your wrists together behind your back, purring against your skin in silent accusation.

You have always been so bold to step up and tell the boys to ease it up on the legit boots, and now look at you, getting off to the sensation of the same material scathing against your skin.

There’s just something about how raw all of this is. The black leather strip pin your hands together behind you, an obvious state of vulnerability that you had never let a man see before, and your breasts are strained forward because of this position. You are helpless, and, for once, you enjoy it.

Dean isn't complaining either. If anything, his Grecian lips slightly parted — letting out the most beautiful hymns of grunts and incoherent moans — is proof enough that he's having a lot of fun with this.

How couldn't he?

You are naked on his lap, riding his cock like you want to win a race. Your hands are pinned against your back, head thrown to the side only to expose the pretty neck that's already a mess of bites and marks that he left here.

The most interesting part is your boobs bouncing as your hips move, right in front of his livid green eyes. They are begging to be touched as is every other inch of your body, crying out like a siren’s call for the only sailor at sea: him. Yet, his cock inside your tight cunt sang to you too in the unique way your walls tighten around his hardness, swallowing all of his dick and hungry for more. Your pussy was made for Dean to fuck; there was no doubt about that. It was the perfect hole for his dick. Still, the most interesting part had to be how readily you gave yourself to him — wrapped in leather like a fucking Christmas present under the tree.

Dean couldn’t wait to rip you apart.

His rough hands are instantly on your hips. You don’t know if it's because you're unable to choose anything or the fact your body is trembling in need for anything that Dean could give, but you swear to all the angels that you can feel each one of Dean's bruises when he touched you tenderly. The sweetness of the act soon melted into the nature of wild abandon when he squeezed your sides, guiding you into moving the way he wanted you to. Your back's hurting from the position, but it isn’t even comparable to the growing ache of not having his cock mess you up the way you wanted it to.

He’s excruciatingly slow. You attempt to move your hands instinctively, trying to catch a glimpse of him and rush this for both of you. Needless to say, it only ached your wrists a little more. Dean Winchester is experienced enough with tying up monsters that this rope isn't going away unless he wants to. You needed his cock deep inside you, slamming into you like the two of you had been fighting. You needed him to make you feel like your pussy was always meant to take him.

Dean kept a quiet rhythmic despite his cock throbbing inside you for more. Your needy cunt squeezes him as though begging for faster, rougher, and deeper.

“Dean…” He loves the way you say his name, as though he were the focal point of some olden tale of heroes. It’s intoxicating; how needy you are; how sure you are that he would give you what you needed; how he finally made a home out of a woman.

Nonetheless, this wasn't the point about this experience. So, all reward you get is a slap to your pussy.

“You're gonna play by my rules.” His gruff voice is tripped into something more than just dominance, but his own tilting self control not to fuck you senseless. He'll endure, even when you cunt takes him so good and warm, his cock sliding with ease in your heat all wet to welcome him. “Understood?”

You can do it, Dean.

A needy, loosy moan came in return to his words, followed by a obedient nod, while Dean remained fucking you slowly.

“I wanna hear you say it. Did you understand? Did I make myself clear?” His voice is growing in quietude, a tone so similar to an argument that only caused you to get more turned on. His anger was always attractive in all the dangerous, twisted ways. As if his ferocious anger woke the savage in you. The Winchester's tough hands placed on your hips, guiding an exhausted pleasure towards your orgasm. Dean allowed one of his hands to find their way to your heat, digits pressed to your clit as the Winchester moved you up and down his cock with one firm hand, deliciously degustating your swirl of hips. That was his girl.

You blurted out, afraid he would stop rubbing your clit if you didn't, “Y-yes. I understand, Dean.”

You want to throw the fucking rope away, put your hands on his shoulders and fuck yourself in his hardness. But you can't. All you can do is to move your hips as he says, and be thankful for it. Because Dean's in control, and he's a hunter enjoying the insides of his prey. Your body is his playground tonight, relish the ride.

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