#'forbidden and yet so intimate our lips met'

[lyxchen]

,,Verboten und doch so innig trafen sich unsere Lippen"

(Please click on the picture for a better quality)

Close up and references are under the cut :3

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - Interrupted Desires

Summary - Daemon sweeps in, eager to reclaim his wife's attention but their evening takes a turn when their children interrupt with a grievance. What begins as an intimate night becomes a family affair, with a dagger and ruined doll causing more trouble than Daemon ever anticipated.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2271

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Ah, my beautiful wife," Daemon purred as he swept into our chambers, his presence crackling with an energy that felt wildly out of place given the lateness of the hour.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing us in our private world as his eyes locked onto mine with that familiar gleam, full of mischief and something far more dangerous.

He moved with the easy grace of a predator, his steps far too lively, almost impatient, for a man who should have been ready to wind down for the night.

Yet, there was something intoxicating about the way he carried himself—like he had the world at his feet and knew it.

I paused in the middle of securing my braid, my fingers halting mid-twist as I turned my gaze to him, eyeing him with playful suspicion.

Daemon was never one to hide his intentions, but the thrill of guessing his next move always sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

"What have you done now?" I asked, my voice dripping with a mix of curiosity and exasperation, though a small smile tugged at my lips.

With Daemon, trouble was never far behind, and his version of mischief could be anything from sneaking out in the dead of night to more... enticing forms of trouble.

"Why must you always assume I've done something wrong?" he countered smoothly, that wicked grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he closed the distance between us.

His words were light, teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. His gaze roamed over me, taking in every detail as if I were some forbidden fruit he couldn't wait to taste.

Before I could respond, he reached out and grabbed my hands, the touch electrifying.

The ribbon I had been carefully threading through my hair slipped from my fingers as if it had a will of its own, and my freshly woven braid unravelled in an instant, my hair tumbling free.

His smirk deepened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched the chaos he'd just caused.

"Daemon!" I groaned, frustration laced through my voice, but I could already feel my resolve slipping.

The sight of him, the energy crackling between us, made it impossible to stay annoyed. His touch, as always, was my undoing.

With an almost careless flick, he shook out my hair, letting it cascade down my back. He loved it when my hair was loose, wild, and he wasn't shy about showing it.

The smug satisfaction on his face was unmistakable.

"Why so glum, my love?" he whispered, his voice low and velvety as he stepped closer, his lips brushing along the curve of my jaw.

Each kiss was light as air, but they left a trail of fire in their wake, coaxing a reluctant sigh from my lips.

I tried, truly, to stay annoyed with him, but as his mouth moved over my skin, teasing and gentle, I found myself softening under his touch.

My body leaned into him of its own accord, drawn to him like a moth to flame. His scent, the heat of him, the way his fingers slid against my skin—it was all too much, too intoxicating.

"So," I murmured, barely able to keep the teasing edge in my voice, "this is why you're so... enthusiastic tonight."

I tilted my head, giving him better access as he trailed kisses down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. "You're hoping to get lucky."

The teasing lilt in my voice was met with a rumble of amusement from him, but it didn't stop his lips from continuing their slow, deliberate path down to my collarbone.

Daemon pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his lips brushing against the hollow of my throat before he frowned theatrically, his expression one of mock offence.

"Lucky?" he repeated, as though the word itself was beneath him.

Then, with a dramatic shrug, he added, "Is it such a crime to want to spend the night with my beautiful, naked wife in my arms?"

His voice had dropped an octave, deep and rough, as his fingers toyed with the strap of my nightgown, tugging on it gently, threatening to reveal more of me to his hungry gaze.

My breath hitched as his lips moved lower, grazing over the delicate skin of my collarbone, lingering just long enough to make my pulse quicken.

"It has been far too long," he hummed, his words vibrating against my skin as I tangled my fingers in his silver hair, each stroke sending a jolt through me.

I let out a soft laugh, remembering our morning together. "Did you forget about yesterday?" I teased, though my voice was breathy, the heat between us unmistakable.

His chuckle was low and sinful, the sound curling deep in my belly.

"Far too long," he repeated, his tone turning serious as his lips ghosted over my skin, every touch deliberate, making it impossible to think about anything else but him.

He was right, though.

No matter how often we were together, with Daemon, it was never enough.

Before I could utter another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his strong hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he lifted me from the floor.

My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist as he carried me toward the bed, his mouth still busy, trailing kisses along my throat and jaw.

"Beautiful, beautiful woman," he muttered between kisses, the words almost reverent.

I couldn't help but giggle at the feel of his lips against my skin, the way he worshipped me with every touch.

The heat between us was palpable, my pulse racing as his hands roamed over me, his kisses deepening, pulling me further into the haze of desire.

But just as the moment was about to shift into something more, a loud thud echoed through the room.

I jerked in surprise, the sound snapping me out of the spell Daemon had so expertly woven around me.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked toward the door, my mind struggling to catch up with what was happening.

Daemon, however, didn't even flinch.

His mouth continued its relentless assault on my neck, his hands firmly holding me as if the interruption was of no concern to him. He had no intention of stopping.

That is, until the unmistakable creak of the door opening.

"Mommy!" A small but fierce voice shrieked from the doorway, causing me to gasp and push Daemon away, much to his groaning displeasure.

He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly disgruntled at the interruption.

Daemon, the ever-persistent lover a moment ago, now sat back with a defeated huff as if this were the greatest tragedy of the night.

His smouldering gaze transformed into that of a man staring down the inevitable chaos of fatherhood. "Of all the times," he muttered, "this is when they choose to storm the gates?"

I sat up quickly, smoothing down the rumpled fabric of my nightgown as I stared at the intruders. Our three children stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.

Our youngest, Aerea, stood at the front, hands on her hips, her small face twisted into a fierce scowl.

Her two older brothers, Vaegon and Baelon, stood behind her, desperately trying and failing to stifle their laughter.

"What is it, my love?" I asked, as Aerea stormed into the room, her tiny feet stomping with indignation as she made her way to the bed.

She began climbing up, her frustration clear as she struggled, but she was determined, barely giving a second thought to what she might have interrupted.

Daemon let out a long, weary sigh beside me. "And to think," he muttered, rubbing his temples dramatically, "I almost had a quiet night with my beautiful wife."

I shot him a knowing look as our fiery little girl finally made her way onto the bed, demanding my attention with the same fervour her father had mere moments before.

Whatever she had come to complain about was bound to be serious—at least, in her mind.

"And what has you so upset, princess?" I asked, my hand smoothing over her wild curls as her brothers continued to snicker from the doorway, clearly entertained by their little sister's theatrics.

She turned to me with an exaggerated pout, her little hands clenched into fists, clearly on the verge of an outburst. "Mommy," she whined, "look what they did!"

Her two older brothers, Vaegon and Baelon, still lingering by the doorway, exchanged guilty glances, their lips pressed tightly together as they tried, once again, to stifle their laughter.

They weren't fooling anyone. Vaegon, the eldest by only a few minutes, nudged Baelon, who finally cracked a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I sighed, brushing Aerea's unruly curls from her face. "What happened, my love?"

Aerea, always dramatic, held up her beloved doll, its once long, flowing hair now an uneven, jagged mess.

"They cut off all her hair!" she gasped, her voice filled with outrage. She whipped her head toward her brothers, eyes wide in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

The boys shifted awkwardly, their bravado faltering under her furious gaze. Vaegon nudged Baelon again, prompting him to speak.

"It wasn't—um—that bad," Baelon mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words. "We just, uh... used the dagger Father gave us."

My eyes widened in shock, and I quickly turned to Daemon, who was now sitting up beside me, his face frozen in a mixture of disbelief and mild amusement.

He stared at his sons, his jaw tight as if trying to decide whether to laugh or scold them.

I blinked at Daemon, incredulous. "Dagger? You gave them a dagger?"

Daemon raised his hands defensively, his silver hair tumbling forward slightly as he looked between the boys and me.

"I explicitly told you two not to tell your mother!" he said, his voice filled with a tone of mock accusation, more to the boys than me.

Vaegon and Baelon both shuffled on their feet, suddenly very interested in the floor.

"Daemon!" I shrieked, my hand shooting out to smack his arm. "They're six! You gave them a dagger, and they're six summers old?"

Daemon winced slightly at my tone but quickly recovered, giving me a casual shrug as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I was doing far worse at their age," he muttered under his breath, leaning back against the headboard with that ever-present smirk on his lips. "Besides, it's a small dagger."

I could feel my blood levels rising as I glared at him.

"That's not the point, Daemon!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mounting frustration.

"Far worse? I don't even want to know what you were doing at their age! But they—" I pointed at the boys, who were now pretending to be invisible—"are not you!"

Aerea, meanwhile, had her arms crossed over her chest, clearly not done with her grievance.

"They ruined her hair!" she snapped, holding up her poor doll again for emphasis as if to remind us all of the true crime that had taken place here.

Daemon glanced at Aerea's doll, his lips twitching as though he were trying to hold back a laugh. "Ah," he said, a mock-serious tone creeping into his voice, "a true tragedy."

"It is!" Aerea huffed, her little face scrunched up in righteous indignation.

Daemon, ever the master of distractions, leaned over and ruffled her curls gently. "I'll get you a new one with even longer hair, my little dragon," he promised, his voice softening just enough to melt Aerea's fury.

She still glared at her brothers, but the fire had dulled, replaced by the allure of a new doll.

I watched the exchange, exasperated yet unsurprised. Of course, Daemon would find a way to diffuse the situation by making her a promise she couldn't resist.

But that didn't change the fact that our twin boys had somehow gotten their hands on a real dagger.

"I can't believe you, Daemon," I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief.

Daemon's hand slid up to the back of his neck, rubbing it absently as he gave me one of those lopsided grins that he knew I could never stay mad at.

"What?" he said with a playful shrug. "I've taught them how to handle it properly."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Vaegon and Baelon, who had been watching the exchange closely, chimed in, voices overlapping.

"Yeah, Father showed us how to hold it!" Vaegon said proudly, puffing out his small chest. "We know what to do!"

"And what not to do," Baelon added, shooting a glance at Aerea's doll. "Mostly."

I shot Daemon a look that could cut through steel. "And they used it to cut off their sister's doll's hair. Clearly, they've mastered the art of responsibility."

Daemon finally let out a bark of laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. "It's a start," he said with a wink, completely unapologetic.

I shook my head again, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "You're impossible," I muttered under my breath.

But even as I tried to stay stern, I couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation too ridiculous to ignore.

Aerea climbed into my lap, clearly satisfied with the promise of a new doll, while Vaegon and Baelon stood by the door, triumphant smirks on their faces as if they had just survived a grand battle.

Daemon, with his typical irreverence, leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. "See? All's well that ends well."

I rolled my eyes, but leaned into him nonetheless, because for all his madness, Daemon had a way of making even the most chaotic nights somehow perfect.

A/n - I reread stormlit promises for fun and this idea popped into my head so I knew I had to get it down!!

[fanaticsnail]

Snail! Happy not yet birthday! Please take my humble offering of some short Heat x Tobuio angst in our beloved Star Wars AU. I don't know of I wrote them good but this has been rotating in my head for the past two weeks and I needed to get it out. It's kind of unfinished but I still hope you like it at least a little. Kisses <33

Sometimes Heat thinks he wasn't built to carry two hearts.

It's basic Zabrak biology. Something unavoidable like the crown of horns on his head or the midichlorians in his blood. Inescapable like his dreams of a life differently led, of bright eyes and gentle laughter, cheeky remarks and warm lips.

He has built walls of beskar around himself, tall and cool like the paint on his armour. A fort made of the hardest of metals, woven thread by unforgiving thread through the flesh of his chest, protecting what is left of him in the cruelest of ways if only to numb the pain in his hearts with a greater one.

Her name is burnt on the inside of his chest plate. Repeated in the script of every language he knows in the hopes that it'll remain even after his soul has long faded away. Mandalorians don't get burials. The only thing they leave behind is their beskar’gam. And if the last monument of his life were to be a piece of metal, Heat would make it matter. And the only way it would matter is if she is here.

Even as the shadow of every dream he ever had.

The heat of the lightsaber burning his throat is nothing compared to the coldness of the eyes looking down at him. His helmet lost somewhere in the midst of the battle, blood running down his face as he stares back at her. Heat feels like a dying star in this moment, burning the last of her light before inevitably succumbing to the eternal darkness. Dark blue skin, long lekku held by a headpiece different than the one he had gifted her all those years ago, skin markings he is painfully familiar with, having mapped them with his fingers time and time again until they were everything he knew. The name weighs on his tongue, burns his larynx and suddenly hope feels like punishment because the woman behind the eyes is not her.

She is not his Tobiuo.

It's wrong. The tilt of her head, the calculative stare (when has she ever looked at him like that?), the stance, even the colour of the damn laser sword. He can vaguely recognise through the smoke the sigil of Trafalgar's gang of misfits embroidered on her tunic and it feels so wrong he wants to vomit.

(Is she always going to be on the enemy's side?)

“Who are you?” He croaks finally, dreading any possible answer. A ghost from the past that came back to haunt him in a torturous act only death and memory are capable of. A culmination of every broken vow and shattered promise.

No reply reaches his ears. There is only smoke, silence and the searing pain of the Jedi weapon.

The amount of times I have read this is insane. I had to put down my phone and sob for a little bit.

THIS IS AMAZING.

It's forbidden romance in the absolute best way, and I can't even think of the words to process it. The imagery of him looking up at her and seeking the love once found there, only to be met with a foreign coldness. I can't.

Twi'lek Jedi Tobiuo x Jabrak Mandalorian Heat is everything to me. This was so special to read, and I adore the way you've written from his perspective. Makes it feel all the more intimate.

I am going to reread this until the end of time.

[poisonlove]

Miss Ortega | j.o

"I look and stare so deep in your eyes I touch on you more and more every time" —Beyoncé

Author's Note: This chapter contains explicit scenes and explicit sexual content. I do not take responsibility for any trauma as I have warned.

Having said that, enjoy the chapter.

part 9

Jenna and I walked eagerly towards the back exit. We were ready to face whatever awaited us, but suddenly a murmur of voices reached our ears. We stopped abruptly, looking at each other with alarmed eyes as the voices grew clearer and closer. Without overthinking, we quickly hid behind a corner, trying to hold our breath and hoping that no one had seen us. My heart was pounding so loudly that I feared Jenna could hear it too. In that moment, adrenaline started coursing through my veins as we waited in silence to discover who was approaching.

"You're really irresponsible, Fred. I can't believe you drank yourself into this state," a deep voice said.

"I'm sorry, Professor... I didn't mean to," the voice, apparently Fred's, sounded apologetic.

Curious, I leaned forward and through a gap, I saw the literature professor, his face red with anger, engaged in an animated discussion with a clearly intoxicated young student named Fred. I tried to suppress a sigh of relief, hoping their attention wouldn't turn towards us. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a strange empathy for Fred, who seemed distraught and disoriented, while the professor reprimanded him vehemently.

"I tried to hold back a laugh, and Jenna placed her hand over my mouth, looking at me reproachfully. My eyes held a mischievous glint as they met hers, and Jenna genuinely smiled. Her hand felt warm against my lips.

"Quiet," Jenna whispered barely an inch from my face.

I nodded timidly and with a playful grin, I ran my tongue along the palm of her hand, causing Jenna to remove it from my mouth.

"Gross!" Jenna muttered softly, restraining the urge to hit me. I looked at her with amusement, my eyes sparkling.

"The footsteps faded away, and Jenna grabbed my wrist with relief, quickly pulling me out of our hiding spot and starting to walk towards her house. My heart was still beating fast, but now for a different reason. I could still feel the lingering effect of the adrenaline that had accelerated my heartbeat, but now it was mixed with the emotion of that shared moment. Jenna and I walked side by side, our accidental touches as we held hands sending a spark through me. The path to Jenna's house seemed shorter than I had imagined. Her hand held onto mine, and every time our gazes met, I could see the same complicity and affection we had shared while hiding from the pursuit of the two."

After a few minutes, we arrived at a beautiful two-story house.Inside, the house is cozy and familiar. The walls are adorned with photographs and artwork, creating an atmosphere of warmth and love.

As soon as the door closes behind us, I feel Jenna grab my shoulders needily, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Trying to keep up, I wrap my hands around the teacher's hips, tightening my fingers around her dress.

"Let's go upstairs," she whispers in my ear after breaking the kiss. With a little jump, Jenna wraps her legs around my waist and without losing her balance, I try to climb the stairs as we laugh between kisses. I walk blindly to a door, leaning Jenna's back against it. As the passion continues to build between us, I try to open the door behind us with my free hand. I finally make it, and we find ourselves in Jenna's bedroom, an intimate haven that holds the secrets of our forbidden love. Jenna breaks free of my arms and, with a look of desire, gently pushes me against the door. I move closer to her, feeling her warm skin against mine, and we lose ourselves again in a passionate embrace. My hands explore her body as our kisses get hotter and deeper. Without saying a word, Jenna takes control of the situation. He gently pushes me onto the bed, guiding me with her grace and assurance. I lean back as she lies on top of me, her eyes bright with desire.

She sits astride my legs, making me feel her warmth. Jenna leans into my face and shyly joins our lips, kissing me. Her hands grab my dress, wanting to take it off. I raise my arms and allow Jenna to remove my uncomfortable dress. Her eyes sparkle and look at me with desire when they see my underwear. When our eyes met, I felt a chill run through my skin and my heart beat furiously in my chest. We had danced around this intimacy for so long, and the moment finally came. Our connection was palpable in the air, charged with desire and a sweet anxiety that engulfed us both. Meanwhile, she had taken off her heels. Jenna plays with the edge of my underwear, mesmerized by my body. The teacher brushes a lock of black hair from her face before looking at me with a lip caught between her teeth.

"Did you take this?" Her finger absently lifts the elastic of my panty, making a thud a

she releases it. "It's Enid's work..." I confess with my heart in my throat and Jenna smiles, looking at me excitedly. Her jet-black eyes study me closely. "Then it would be nice to thank you," she confesses and then leans in, kissing my neck.

My hands mischievously begin to explore Jenna's body, slightly annoyed by the cloth that covers her. "You have…too many clothes on," I whisper breathlessly, letting out a groan as Jenna's teeth brush against the skin of my neck. Jenna sits on my abdomen, looking at me with a smile on her lips. She quickly pushes the blue dress off her shoulders, making her hair messy. I looked at her, porcelain white skin highlighted by the black bra she was wearing. "Satisfied?" - she asks with a hoarse voice, leaning into my neck without waiting for my answer. Deftly, her hand removes my bra and delicately makes me take it off. Sudden embarrassment makes me cover my breasts with my hands, unsure of my body. Jenna gently holds my wrists, looking at me sweetly.

"You don't have to be ashamed…you're beautiful." Embarrassed, I slide my arms away from my chest, exposing my breasts to Jenna. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her ringless hand rests around my chest, wanting to feel the texture of my skin. I shudder under her touch. Sheepishly, Jenna leans in, never taking her eyes off me and shyly places my nipple between her teeth, making me moan at the sensation.

Between sighs, I enjoy the feel of her lips around my nipple, nearly sobbing with emotion. Jenna, with a loud snap, leaves my breasts and slowly begins to descend through my body, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites on my abdomen until reaching my privacy. I shiver when I feel her breath against my panties. In one swift motion, Jenna grabs the edge of my panties and pulls them off, leaving me completely naked. A pleasant sensation invades my body when I feel a tongue around my clitoris. I press the sheets with need while I enjoy the sensation of her tongue working in my privacy, leaving quick kisses and licks. Instinctively, I spread my legs wider, wanting to fully explore this first experience. "You're…delicious," Jenna murmurs weakly, looking at me seriously. She shyly ascends my body, joining our lips in a sweet kiss.

I can taste myself through her mouth.

Jenna straddles my leg, beginning to slowly rock her hips back and forth. Her hand approaches my intimacy, moving the palm of her hand in a circular motion around my core of nerves. I lose all sense of reason under her touch, feeling a pleasant sensation in my lower abdomen. Timidly, her finger moves closer to my entrance.

-Are you sure? - she murmurs against my ear, waiting for my answer. I nod against her neck and Jenna's lips meet mine, muffling my moan of pain from the sensation of a foreign body inside me. A few seconds later, getting used to Jenna's presence, I move my hips timidly, wanting to feel more of the teacher. Between kisses, Jenna increases the intensity of penetration, making me shudder and feel like I'm touching the stars with one finger. Instinctively, I place my hands along her back, digging my nails into her skin. "Jenna…" I whisper, unable to resist much longer. The black-haired woman adds another finger and speeds up, making me moan even more. A pressure builds in my lower abdomen and with excitement I prepare myself for the pleasant feeling of release. After reaching the climax of ecstasy together, we hugged each other tightly, our breath still ragged. We look into each other's eyes, without the need for words, knowing that our love is stronger than any obstacle.

(...)

Upon waking up, I find myself enveloped in warm comfort, and the sweetness of the dream slowly fades. I open my eyes and find Jenna lying beside me, naked and vulnerable. A slight smile dances on my lips as my eyes shimmer with love and admiration.

Suddenly, the events of the previous night flood my mind, sending a shiver down my skin, bringing back a sensation of warmth and pleasure to my body. My mind fills with vivid and detailed images, evoking the passion with which Jenna touched every part of me. I can still almost feel Jenna's soft lips on mine, our passionate kisses igniting a fiery desire in both of us.

As I remember the pressure of Jenna's hands on my body and the gentleness of her movements, my heart beats faster in my chest. The memory of those sensations brings a sense of fullness and inner satisfaction, as if I've experienced intense and deep pleasure.

Yet, amidst this intense wave of pleasure, I also experience a slight sadness or nostalgia. I know that moment of intimacy was fleeting and that their love is hindered by external obstacles. This awareness can tint the memory with a shade of melancholy, as I deeply yearn for our relationship to be lived and shared fully without restrictions.

Overall, the memory of the events from the previous night evokes a combination of pleasure, desire, nostalgia, and a sense of satisfaction mixed with a touch of sadness. It's a blend of emotions that reflects the depth of my feelings for Jenna and the ambivalence of her romantic situation.

My eyes turn towards Jenna's figure.

Jenna's skin seems iridescent, illuminated by the faint light filtering through the curtains. Every curve of her body is a work of art, an intimate and personal treasure that only I have the privilege to admire. The long strands of her hair fall onto the pillow, framing her serene face and those eyes that have witnessed her love.

I approach Jenna delicately, gracefully moving a strand of hair that covers her face. I gaze upon Jenna's features with infinite tenderness, appreciating every small detail that makes the woman who has captivated my heart unique and special. Every curve, every line of her body speaks of intimacy and trust, of a deep and shared bond. Her freckles stand out under the sunlight.

I draw closer and lightly brush her face with my fingers, tracing a gentle caress over her lips. In a whisper of awakening, Jenna half-closes her eyes and smiles, as if sensing my presence. "Good morning," Jenna murmurs in a husky voice.

Slowly, like in a harmonious ballet, we lean in for a delicate kiss. Our lips meet in a sweet exchange of affection, a silent embrace that encapsulates everything we feel for each other. It's a moment of intimacy and connection, a reflection of the deep love that has grown between us.

As we kiss, the world around us disappears, leaving space only for the two of us and the magic of that moment. Our souls intertwine, our bodies meld into perfect harmony. It's a moment of complete intimacy, where time seems to stand still, and nothing else matters except the bond that unites us.

I feel grateful for having found such a pure and passionate love. I know this moment is just the beginning of an extraordinary journey together, and with a heart overflowing with happiness, I let myself be carried away by the wonder of that sweet and romantic dawn with the woman I love.

While exchanging sweet kisses, I feel an overwhelming energy coursing through my body. Every touch of Jenna's lips against mine is like an electric shock that thrills me with pleasure. We're immersed in a whirlwind of emotions, but there's an innocence and complicity in what we're doing, as if we're two girls discovering the game of love for the first time.

Between our playful kisses, our smiles turn into an affectionate dance. We tease each other, barely brushing our lips, exploring each other with curiosity and awe. Every moment is a new experience, a discovery game that makes us feel even closer.

"Shall we take a shower?" Her voice is infused with sweetness, and her request is spontaneous, as if she wants to share every possible moment with me. It's an idea that excites me, because I desire to fully immerse myself in the sensuality of our love, without barriers or limits.

We undress slowly, with mutual care and delicacy, and in her gaze, I see a sincere appreciation for my body. There's no shame or insecurity, only a deep connection that transcends any imperfections. Entering the shower together becomes a way of showing each other love and mutual care, washing each other gently and sharing loving caresses.

The water cascading down on us creates an intimate and relaxing atmosphere. We take our time to wash each other, laughing and playing like two childhood friends. There's no rush, only a sense of joy in being able to share such a simple and special moment together.

As our bodies are enveloped in the warm cascade, I feel a profound gratitude for the love Jenna offers me. Every gesture, every word, is a gift that fills me with joy. In this moment, I realize that innocence and sweetness are the foundation of our bond, and I feel fortunate to have such a pure and authentic love.

The shower becomes a place of deep intimacy, where the connection between us grows stronger. We're wrapped in an intimate embrace, celebrating our love in a way that goes beyond physical desire. Every sensation, every moment, reflects the love and trust we've built together.

After taking a shower, taking much longer than Jenna, I descend the stairs in search of Professor Ortega.

I approach Jenna in the kitchen, wrapping my arms around her from behind as she cooks. Her scent intoxicates me, and I can't resist leaving sweet kisses on her neck. The warmth of her body and her presence make me feel secure and loved.

"Stop... you're distracting me," despite her assertion, Jenna's tone is playful, pleased by the moment.

Suddenly, we hear the sound of the doorbell, interrupting our intimate moment. Jenna, curious, approaches the door as I follow, feeling a slight apprehension in my chest. I don't know who it could be, but I hope it's something harmless, something that won't endanger our secret.

When Jenna opens the door, her face suddenly pales. I look in the same direction and see her family in front of us. Instinctively, I know Jenna is desperately seeking my gaze, looking for a response, an excuse to explain my presence here.

I approach Jenna, trying to convey calmness and confidence with my eyes. My voice trembles but determinedly says, "Hi, I'm T/N. We've worked together, and she invited me for lunch."

As I say these words, I feel a mixture of fear and hope in my heart. I hope that Jenna and her family believe my explanation, that they can conceal the true love we share. But at the same time, I know this situation is delicate, and there could be consequences if the truth comes to light. Mr. and Mrs. Ortega look at me with confusion.

I look into Jenna's eyes, trying to support her with my gaze. Both of us know this is just the beginning of the challenges we must face together, but we are determined to protect our love at any cost.

"All right, dear. I'm always happy to meet my girl's friends," her mom says.

"Mom!" Jenna affirms with flushed cheeks.

Jenna's mom enters the house, dragging her suitcase behind her. Her father and probably her siblings enter with enthusiasm, happy to see their sister.

I smile in relief when I see that Jenna's parents and siblings accept my explanation. I greet them with a genuine smile, recognizing the evident happiness radiating from their faces. It's a relief to know that our relationship will be safe, at least for the moment.

As we sit down and start talking about the trip and our respective families, I discover that Jenna's family's visit is a surprise organized to spend Christmas vacation together. My heart fills with joy seeing how much importance they've given to this special occasion.

I participate in the conversations with a mix of excitement and nervousness. I can't help but feel a slight tension in maintaining our secret, but I try to focus on the love and happiness surrounding Jenna's family in this moment.

Throughout the evening, I realize that this family surprise represents a new challenge for us. We'll have to continue hiding our relationship and acting cautiously, but the loving presence of Jenna's family gives me hope and makes me feel part of something bigger.

I hold onto the love I share with Jenna and the promises we've made. We know our path won't be easy, but we are determined to protect our love and fight for it. In the meantime, we'll try to enjoy these special moments together, knowing that each instant is precious and unique.

With a heart full of gratitude and hope, I immerse myself in the warmth of Jenna's family's company, trying to live in the present and face the challenges that await us with bravery and love.

"Well, guys, how about we go out to see the city? I'm sure there will be many interesting things to visit," proposes Edward, Jenna's dad.

"Yes, we could take a stroll and maybe grab a bite at a nice restaurant. What do you think?" adds Natalie enthusiastically.

"It would be great to explore the place a bit. I can't wait to discover what this city has to offer," Isaac, Jenna's older brother, looks at us with excitement, happy with the idea of exploring our city.

"Sounds like a great idea. Can I join you?" I timidly affirm.

"Of course, T/N, it would be a pleasure to have you with us. That way, we can get to know you better," Edward's tone of voice shows his happiness.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Ortega. I'm happy to spend time with you."

"Yes, that would be fantastic! But wait a moment... there are a few things we need to fix here at home. Maybe I should stay to take care of that," Jenna fades the smile on her face, noticing the neglected kitchen utensils.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. There's no need for you to stay alone here. It's just a short outing; we'll be back soon," Natalie tries to convince her daughter.

"What do we do? I don't know how to handle this situation," Jenna whispers to me.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way. We can find a moment to talk and come up with a strategy," I whisper back.

"Then it's settled. Let's go see the city, and we'll meet back here in a couple of hours. T/N, we'll be waiting outside," Edward proposes.

"Perfect, I'll be ready. See you in a while," I admit with a smile on my lips.

The family leaves the room, leaving me alone with Jenna. She seems agitated, while I try to reassure her with a loving look.

"Calm down, Jen. We'll find a solution. We've faced difficult situations in the past, and we'll do it this time too," I admit with a smile, remembering our first kiss.

"You're right, T/N. We just have to find a way to handle this situation without arousing suspicion."

"Exactly. Now, let's take a moment to think and come up with a solution together. We're in this together, remember."

OWe look into each other's eyes, finding solace and mutual strength. We know we must be cautious and act carefully, but we're determined to protect our love and face any challenges that come our way.

[jaelaxies]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

fluff; a little bit of angst; wc: 1 k..

Sunghoon x fem reader!; fantasy au!; dream king Sunghoon au!; tw: none.

Song recommendation: Will I Ever See You Again — Red Velvet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

We were always dancing in the same hall; grand chandeliers shining over our silhouettes. I was never a good dancer, but you… You always insisted in dancing with our hands tied tightly, in holding my waist like I could disappear at any moment; looking me in the eyes like I was your secret oasis yet we loved each other without a reason, it just felt natural to do so. You painted all my nights golden and all of my thoughts were filled with fantasies of us basking in the sunset.

That night, was different though. We didn’t twirl around and laughed at the sound of the same imaginary music; the chandeliers were off and Sunghoon was standing in his white royal jacket, filled with gold intricate decorations, facing the entrance of the balcony. Only the moon was caressing his face and not my hand like the last days, his expression was grim for what I could see from afar.

Deep down, I knew.

I knew that all dreams come to a stop. Specially if my dream was a fairytale that had no ending, one where we could live happily ever after, in ignorance of the world that was meant to divide us. But as I walked with heavy steps to his side, and his gaze met mine. He held me close again; my breath hitched in my throat as I felt his arms wrapping around my whole figure, his head seeking comfort on my neck; it was something about the way his embrace felt, like it was time…

It was the last time.

I brought my hand to his nape and started to caress his hair; his breath starting to fell into a more stable rhythm. We didn’t want to let go, not only of this moment but of each other too. In this dark room, embraced still, we started to slowly dance again. Just moving our bodies while feeling each other’s warmth; the longing of our hearts creating the only music present in the whole dance hall. The moon was our only guest tonight, the solemn witness to this forbidden love that was about to fall into its predestined fate.

But even as the lights went out, even if the world burned out… “I’ll find a way to meet you again”  

Sunghoon’s voice echoed in my head as I lift my face to meet his eyes; if I had words to describe them it would be filled with an unbreakable promise of love. His gaze was gentle yet I could feel the sincerity in his words, even if the fresh tears that glossed his eyes tried to defy that.

“I’ll wait for an eternity, if necessary”

I said, as I cupped his cheek in my hand and smiled when he reciprocated the contact, leaning further into my touch. His soft lips kissing the inside of the palm of my hand, it was such an intimate gesture that made my heart calm down for a second; it was the peaceful stretch before the storm.

 “I love you, Sunghoon”

As I finally said that, the whole dream started to collapse. I could only stand there as the walls crumbled, the chandeliers broke in a million pieces and my lover was still holding me in place amidst the chaos, as it always had been. Sunghoon was my knight in shining armor, the person I fell in love with and the only person I ever wanted to share my love with. Even if the universe was going to separate us, he would still shield me from any harm. Last thing I remember was holding to dear life with our intertwined hands like chains and then, my vision slowly started to fade into a black abyss and the warmth that I used to cherish so much, disappeared. Leaving only a trace of him behind, his ring.

I clutched onto that little piece for years. I’m sure he did the same.

As the third year passed by and the fireworks exploded in the sky, reminding everyone else of the start of a new cycle, including myself who stared at the snowy sky through my window; I felt a familiar sensation in my chest. It came from the only reminder of my lover, the golden piece that hanged from my neck. The ruby gemstone that adorned the ring, started glowing furiously, like a signal, a call that was so urgent: I didn’t hesitate. I knew where to go.

I know who was waiting for me.

As I reached the tall tree where we first met in a dream, I spotted a familiar figure standing in the snow. His dark black hair now covered in little snowflakes; dressed in a trench coat and holding his hands to his mouth while tapping his foot on the snow-covered floor. I couldn’t wait any longer, as the sound of my heels alerted him and he turned back to face me with the biggest smile on his face, dimples on full display, I ran like a madwoman into his arms again.

As he caught me, we started twirling around in chuckles of relief. We were together again. We were never going to be apart from each other, no more barriers of the unknown; no more limits of the subconsciousness. As we halted our little celebration, he cradled my face and we smiled at each other as he started pecking my whole face with so much joy that my heart burned in my chest, it felt like a show of fireworks was spreading trough my whole chest.

—I didn’t have the courage to say it then, because I knew our future was uncertain…— He kissed my forehead with a soft sigh escaping from his lips, blush covering all of his beautiful features including his cheeks. — But I do now, as I stand here and I vow my eternal love for you.

He stopped for a second and before capturing my lips in a sweet and slow kiss, he finally completed his vow. — I love you even more than you can imagine and I will make sure this time, only happier times will come. For now, it is you and I against the world and nothing can stop us.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Hehe Finally is here! This is my first time writing for enha so.... pls be kind🤍

I felt like a had an adrenaline rush when i listened to this song and the idea just came into my head instantly, let me know specially if you liked this type of ideas bc i have so many of them; i know it's a little bit angsty but i felt like i need to polish my angst a little

I still wanna write sugar candy fluff for Hoon so dont worry dont fret (student council president im looking at you) i just need a little bit of time to adjust my new schedule and we'll return to our regular program everyone

Thanks for all the support and love, it motivates me so much🤍 (❁´◡`❁)

As always, feedback is really appreciated and I’ll love if you could reblog or comment if you really liked this one!

With love, *°࿐Stella🤍

[starshipsofstarlord]

Posted

Pairing | Tom Holland x reader

Summary | whilst sharing an intimate moment with Tom, he voices that he wants to take a photo to commemorate being together again. But accidents happen, and it is not uncommon for his fingers to slip.

Warnings | ass grabbing, accidents happen I guess, clumsy Tom, suggestive statement

Requested ☑️

Quick link to my masterlist, in case you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Lips wandered up the expanse of your neck, lightly trailing up the ladder of skin. Tom was beneath you on the sofa, sat in a relaxed disarray. Admittedly, it was nice seeing him so calm, with no worries from his demanding job. And not to mention, you had him all to yourself.

That, was the best part. No cameras were capturing every angle of the beautiful man, not that you blamed them at all for doing so, however, the advantage of the privacy that you had vaguely gained, had become a newfound and favourite treasure.

He was at home, and with that prospect came the best version of himself. The one that would take Tessa for long and enduring walks; the one that could be careless to the promoting that his family have him; and best of all, the one whom would allow his hands to slip a little further down on you =r backside than he would usually allow himself.

“I love your ass.” Tom nonchalantly admitted, giving a beloved squeeze to said part of your body. “I think it may be the thing I miss most about you when I’m gone.” His admittance earned himself a playful, yet loving, swat by your undermining hand.

But despite his gentle punishment, he still resisted against your faltering will, his palms finding claim once more on your low cheeks. A grin, exhibiting an accordance upon his pleased expression. He pursued a tightness behind his sterile grip, imprinting the firmness of his engorging fingertips into your plump flesh.

“Should i be offended that all you seem to miss is this ass?” A light laugh tore through the wall of your teeth, as your hands tenderly padded at his covered shoulders. With fond and eyes of pure love, Tom made mutual eye contact, reaching one of his hands up to plant upon the outdent of your cheek.

“I wouldn’t say that was all.” Tom drew his words out, allowing his sweet and talented fingers to drift towards the corner and your mouth, hinting at its forbidden talents. Squinting lovingly at him, you darted your tongue out to swipe at the pad of his finger, causing him to retract them.

“You’re so romantic.” The sarcasm was tense, as you watched Tom swerve his gaze around you face turned siyour waist, and land on your jean clad bottom. At his insinuation to do so, you could only roll your eyes at his unsurprising and boyish behaviour. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

With no hesitancy, Tom reached into his pocket, gripping his phone, and scrolling on its well used screen. “You told me to.” Was his mechanism of defence, and with one hand, he aimed the front lens of the camera as far as way as his arm could reach, whilst his other remained squeezing the fat of your behind.

At his behaviour, you could barely hold in a smile, as your head sideways, giving a profile to the image that he was intent of capturing. He took a few, to which he stated to be ‘perfect’. But all of a sudden, as he was mindlessly scrolling, and giving a teasing pinch to your ass, his face fell.

Tom was always one for spoilers, and this circumstance was not indifferent. The feed of your shared presence and comfort in one another had been accidentally set as a post upon his Instagram account, causing him dread. He had meant for another picture to take its public space, and his heart rate picked up as he saw likes begin to flow through on his notifications.

It was supposed to be a picture in regards to his movie, promoting its release date. And instead, what had been delivered as online content was the well focused image of his hand clasping your ass, and both of your faces in the viewpoint. The pair of you were screwed, your agents would have a field day with trying to come up with a solution to your privacy.

“What did you do?” At that question, he gulped, and froze as you took the phone out of his hand, scouring the screen with your adept eyes. And what you were met with, was the profile that he had taken of the pair of you, posted publicly onto the popular app. “Tom!”

“I didn’t mean to!” He urged, there being no argument between the pair of you, instead, it was simply him trying to defend his accidental actions. “I’ll take it down.”

“Approximately five hundred and - oh, now thirty people have liked this already. We’re screwed, they’ll have already screen shotted it. Our cover is officially blown.” You put the phone down on the side of the sofa, rubbing your temples efficiently at the thought.

The pair of you had handled your privacy so well, until now. The entire lid off your operation was gone, leaving all for the fans to devour. “I don’t want to even look at the comments.”

“Hey.” Tom softly spoke, his hands fleeing your ass and coming to tilt your face in his direction. “Maybe it’s not so bad, we’ve been playing this game for a while now. And whilst the secrecy is exciting, I want to take you to premiers and no one gasp in surprise, and walk down the street hand in hand with you. At least now we don’t have to hide what we have together.”

“Thomas Stanley Holland.” You addressed him using his full name, bringing your palms to rub sweetly on his chest. “Now tell me, were you not opposed the idea of being careless and letting that finger of yours slip so that the whole world knows about us?”

“I used my thumb actually.” He corrected you, leaning up to press a living chaste kiss upon your inviting lips. “And it was an accident, but I’ve thought about coming out about our relationship for a while now. The things I’d do to have you on my arm as we walk down the carpet; we wouldn’t have to seem like strangers any longer.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers my love.” Swirling a curl around your finger, that hung down from his head and onto his face, you smiled at how soft his locks were. “And because of your little mistake, we don’t have to act outside of sets anymore.”

A part of you was relieved, to know that now, the entirety of both of your worlds would be aware of the connection that was present between the pair of you. Another was in fear of how the fans would react to their beloved Spider-Man actor being off the market. However, you couldn’t help to love Tom, and his nimble fingers, that had found home on your ass once more.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[silkylious]

I Am in Love. Fuck. (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Dancer!Bakugo Katsuki x Dancer!Reader Warnings: swearing and just some tooth-rotting fluff!  Prompt(s): #35 “Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” + Dancer AU

A/N: Thank you so much @1-800-callmekatsuki​ for the request, this was super cute and fun to write. I hope you enjoy this! yall i know nothing about dancing so for any dancers out there please bear with me lmao

Squeaks of sneakers against the waxed floor echoed throughout the studio, overshadowed by the rhythm blasting from the speakers. Heavy puffs of air mingled with the surrounding noise to create a ruggedly enchanting symphony. Crimson irises peered at you as your hand delicately held him by the neck, moving up to caress his sharp jaw all while you kept up the movements of your feet and the saying of your hips. Katsuki's hands perched stop your waist guiding your motions, grip tightening as the song playing in the background built up to a final crescendo, preparing to support you for the finale of your dance number. As the last notes of the musical piece sounded through the closed space, you struck a final pose, surrendering your body to Katsuki's grasp. You stayed in that position for a second too long, your figure hanging with the help of his strength in an exaggerated dip, his pointy, upturned nose brushing against yours and his muscular arms holding you securely, saving you from an inevitable fall. Your lidded eyes bore into his soul, daring him to go further. He wouldn't give in to your teasing gaze so easily, though. With a painfully audible gulp, he pulled you upright, detaching his body from yours. 

A sharp whistle crashed the tension between you two, followed by overly enthusiastic clapping. 

“That was awesome, guys! You're totally gonna win the competition with this,” Kirishima hollered from the other side of the room, his keen stare watching with amusement as you and his best friend stiffly walked to your respective lockers. He found it infinitely humorous how you could have such palpable chemistry on the dance floor, then act like awkward middle schoolers once the music halted. 

Your skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat; the choreography was exhausting, despite how effortless you and your dance partner made it seem. It surprised you when Katsuki approached you with this particular sequence, he wasn't one for sensuous moves (much less a pas de deux for that matter), and quite frankly you doubted he had it in him to be so intimate and flexible. But as usual, he surprised you with his adaptability, Katsuki really was a natural at many things. What was completely out of left field, however, was his intensity. It was just a duet, you knew that, but fuck did his eyes send you hurtling to other worldly stories with just his glare, the sensuality of his touches immersing you in a fictional forbidden love. The way his lips ghosted over your shoulder as you rocked with your back to his sculpted pectorals. He was doing it on purpose. And you'd be damned if you didn't play his game too, returning his lingering touches with just as much vigour, passion. The plastic bottle in your hand protested under the unnecessary pressure of your clutch, your bottom lip catching behind a row of teeth. Shit, he was getting to you–

“Oi, you're gonna spill water everywhere, dumbass,” Katsuki's gruff voice snapped you from your reverie, making the baby hairs on your neck stand at attention. He chugged his own water in one gulp before successfully throwing the plastic container into the recycling bin from a far. By the time you turned around, he had gotten alarmingly closer. “Overall, you’re not as shitty as last time. Your footing is still fucking abysmal, though. You call that a pirouette? My grandma could do better and she has arthritis.”

Of course he wouldn't let you celebrate, you were convinced he was physically incapable of giving non-backhanded compliments. You shook your head with a light chuckle, his creativity really shined through in his insults. They never really bothered you, you were aware that hidden beneath the layers of unwarranted cussing and borderline rude comments, lied genuine, constructive criticism. Grabbing a change of clothes, you slammed the locker before heading to the public bathroom for a quick rinse, barely sparing him a glance on the way there. 

“Duly noted.”

Vermillion eyes observed the way your hips swayed gently as you walked, completely unaware of similarly colored eyes watching him with gleaming mirth. “You’re so whipped for her, dude.”

Previously relaxed features pulled taut in an agitated grimace. “No, the fuck I’m not.”

“Mhmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, man.” Kirishima escaped the premises before he could experience his best friend’s wrath, a jubilant bounce in his step as he thought about his two friends. He was the common denominator between you two. That’s how you met, at one of Kirishima’s frat parties, and even though Bakugo wouldn’t ever say it out loud, an instant connection sparked between you two. The mutual love for dancing brought you together.

Thoughts of you fogged Katsuki’s mind for the rest of the day, practice that day had been exceptionally sensual, both of you getting progressively more daring. He fruitlessly tried to go about his day without having intrusive thoughts blocking his focus, but to no avail. He found himself aimlessly staring out the window, hyper-realistic sensations buzzing along his skin, it was almost like you were still there, still touching him. He sat there on his couch, trying (and failing), to elude any thought of you. He huffed at his inability to get you out of his head, he had one last resort to aid with his problem.

That damn porcupine wouldn’t stop reappearing in your mind, it was so surreal, the way he looked at you as you forfeited your body to him, his minty pants of air, his natural musk. All of it was too much to handle. Uncertainty stopped you from pursuing the man that had unknowingly snatched your heart, each session with him felt like a shot of fireball running down your throat. So sweet and addictive, yet the repercussions left you impaired. He was a drug to you, making you chase the gratifying high of his touches, but once the endorphins dissipated you were left to battle with the symptoms of withdrawal. Your plans of having a relaxing evening were thrown out the window, you needed anything but alone time to overthink, and you had the perfect getaway from visions plaguing you. Unbeknownst to both of you, you shared the exact same idea.

Drowned in the music provided by his ear buds, Katsuki failed to hear the sounds of someone else in the studio as he rounded the corner. The sight before him momentarily made his heart halt, only to beat twice as fast as his eyes raked over your twirling figure. Dim light peaked through the blinds, casting an elegant, pastel halo over your features. You looked so in your element here, so at peace. Your expression gentle, eyes soft and lips pulled into a preciously small smile, despite the strain pulling at your limbs, begging you to rest. Your body alone made the muscles in his heart clench and unclench rapidly, made his otherwise focused and composed mind a reeling, fiery mess. But what affected him the most, provoked an itching desire in him to be as close to you as humanly possible (a desire that he had refused to acknowledge) was the simple fact that you were doing pirouettes. He’d figured that your comeback to him earlier that day had been pure sarcasm. Seeing you take his advice, practicing all on your own, having the courage to fall and learn, failing and bouncing right back up again over and over until sweat dripped from your temples, all to make both him and yourself proud with the fruits of your labor, that’s what set him off. 

“Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” 

The date of the competition came faster than either of you could comprehend. The days preceding it were filled with hard work, sweat and augmenting tension. With his feelings for you finally recognized and accepted, Bakugo couldn’t help the pink tone frequenting his face whenever you went over the dance together, which he defensively dismissed as a byproduct of heat each time Kirishima brought it up, a knowing look in his eye. That last dip always made his stomach churn. When he was that close to your face, he had to restrain every atom in his body from doing something impulsive, but oh did his lips plead to mold with your own, did his fingers beg to tangle with yours. He’d never experienced anything like this, it was almost like all his body parts had a mind of their own, whenever he was by your side he consciously had to shun his whole being from twitching as it wished desperately to entwine with you in every way possible.

“This is it.” You said, more to yourself than to him, reminding yourself that this was the time to reap all the exertion and time you’d sowed. Your mind was slowly trickling into anxious territory, but a calloused hand interlacing with your own stopped you from straying too far. You gaped at the sudden act of reassurance, a familiar giddy feeling bubbling in your veins. He grinned at you. You grinned back.

“This is it.” He repeated, words coming out strong, resolute. His cadence conveying all the encouragement he didn't know how to voice, his hand anchoring you in what was here and now. 

“And last but not least, please welcome our last competitors, Bakugo Katsuki and (last name) (name)!”

That was the cue for the both of you to emerge from backstage. As you took your starting positions, you inhaled and exhaled uniformly, Bakugo sending you a look of slight concern which you returned with a smirk, telepathically telling him let’s win this thing. 

The music kicked in and you lost yourselves between the melodies. It was like Pavlov’s conditioning almost; as soon as your ears heard the starting notes, your bodies moved on their own, muscle memory taking the front seat and grabbing hold of the steering wheel. And yet it was anything but a blur. You saw everything in blinding clarity, minutes seemed to slow for your perception. The way he moved was etched into your brain in overwhelming detail. The dance was as amorous as can be. Your gaze remained attached to his throughout the whole number, only leaving when you twirled or turned around. This time around, you didn’t dance as mere partners, no you danced as lovers. There was no teasing involved, only unbridled adoration. Applause fell on deaf ears, anything that wasn’t him was mute and colorless to you, and vice versa. You danced like nobody was observing, like you were a married couple swaying around your kitchen.  

The final notes brought you two back to reality, and through the unease in his gorgeous, crimson irises, you knew he had a decision to make. Your palm skimmed across the expanse of his neck, trailing the unblemished column before moving up to his jaw. With practiced ease, your feet skidded along the stage while your hips moved in tantalizing waves, his sweaty hands gripping at your waist tightly, a clear indication of his ongoing, internal debate. You gave him a last glare, one that ultimately made him settle on a choice he vowed to never regret, then your body slackened in his hold, his arms dipping you backwards in a closing pose, concluding the exhilarating choreography. 

But he still had one more thing to do.

As his nose pushed up against yours, he made a final push, lowering his lids in preparation. His slightly chapped lips puckered against your soft ones, prompting your eyes to grow wide. Obnoxious cheering erupted, but neither of you could hear it. Shutting your eyes, you moved your lips in a sensuous rhythm against his own, not too dissimilar to the number you’d just performed, basking in the sensation that you’d daydreamed about during endless sleepless nights.

For once, Katsuki couldn’t give less of a shit about achieving an indisputable first place in a competition, because no matter the outcome of this dance, whether he swooped all the medals or not, he considered this to be the biggest win in his book.

[lolishdes]

“I Can't Help it if I’m this In Love with You” | A Knight!Denki x Princess!Reader

Summary: Having to keep your forbidden love a secret, every night your knight in shining armor comes and visits you to shower you with love and kisses. Only at nights like these do your statuses and power not matter, both seeing each other as equals. With his embraces filled with love, you don't want to remove yourself from his arms tonight.

Word Count: 1418

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Only a heated make out session

AN: This fan fiction is dedicated to @strwbrry-lia​, hope you love this fan fiction I made for you! And please don't forget to like and reblog this fic, I would appreciate it very much if you guys did, enjoy! ^^

As I lay on my Queen sized bed, the music box plays a relaxing melody while I entertain myself with a book. Since I am unable to fall asleep, amusing myself for a little bit more wouldn't hurt. A loud knock echoes in my bedroom, mostly at times like these my father would check up on me for bedtime, I opened my doors to be faced with my father, already in his night wear.

“Darling, why aren't you asleep yet? It's past your curfew already.” he asked in a softer and quieter tone, aware of others already asleep.“Sorry Father, I can't exactly sleep. Please let me stay up just a bit longer?” I pleaded at him, giving him puppy dog eyes, as per usual he couldn't resist. “Alright alright, but be in bed soon, okay?” he kisses my forehead before resigning to sleep with mother.

I shut the door behind me and rushed back to my bed “Alright, you can come out now, he’s gone.” I laughed as something emerged under my bed, his light giggles making my heart flutter. He rests his head at the end of the bed “He came in earlier than expected. Anyways, you're looking as radiant as ever my sunshine~” with that cheeky grin I threw a pillow at his face “You goof, come here.” I welcomed him into my arms as he pounced immediately like a puppy seeking attention. He snuggled near my neck, breathing in my scent “Hm, your smell always fills me with joy.” he hums in delight.

He’s always so adorable when we’re alone. It surprises me how stoic and confident he acts when he’s on duty but melts like a marshmallow when it’s only us. It makes my heart do back flips when he shows his vulnerable side to only me.

I racked my fingers on his blonde locks, soothing some of his tangled hair. He suddenly sat up and faced me “So, honey. Care to tell me how your day went?” With an adorable yet cheeky grin plastered on his face, I pinched it slightly making him wine, I giggled before replying “It’s been well, for the most part it's just the usual errands I run on the daily.” I said, a frown suddenly appeared on his face, confusing me. “So does that mean you've met another potential suitor?” His voice low and filled with sadness. His head shifts slightly down, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh no, Denki, don't be like that. Come here, baby.” With my arms open once more I began to brush though his hair, assuring and comforting him, pulling him closer as I only felt his comforting  warmth. “Yes, I in fact met another potential suitor, and I wish I could have a say on the subject. But alas, Father wouldn't let me reason with him.” His strong arms wrap around my waist, making us even closer, with his face inches close to my ear. We bask in the comforting silence, only the sounds of the wind  making noises. Denki and I share many moments just like these, just enjoying each other's company without a word coming out of our mouths. We know well enough that we have a forbidden love, yet that never stopped us from seeing each other each and every night.

Finally, Denki broke the silence “I fear..” he mumbles out, half of his sentence unclear to me. “I fear losing you, Princess. I love you too much to let you go, and it hurts to see that not everyone knows that you're mine.” removing himself from my neck, he stares back at me with a serious look on his face while clutching my hands and brings them closer to his lips “I’m serious about you, Princess. I wouldn't go down without a fight to be with you, I want you to know that.” he crashes his lips onto the back of my hand, leaving a certain warmth on the spot.

My eyes widen as my heart and stomach begin to flutter to the heavens, with my cheeks burning red he keeps his gaze towards me. I gulped, the atmosphere getting a little heated as my heart is beating profoundly. As he places one hand on my cheek and the other on the bed frame, as if caging me. Even without his hands around me, his gaze is enough to paralyze me in place.

“D-Denki…” I said, breathless. Our intense eyes linger at the other, the urge to touch and caress him was oh so strong, yet why do I persist to hold myself back, when I know full well that the night is only meant for the both of us. Whatever secret or scandalous action we may commit tonight, it will all be sealed under the bright moon light. “Kiss me.” I commanded him under my breath, with his hands lingering on the more intimate places. He smirked, aware of the effect he has on me “Anything for you, my princess.”  

As he finally closed the gap between us, our lips collided in a passionate kiss. I sigh in content, as I melt when his hands caress the back of my head, pushing his lips further with mine. I was startled when I felt his teeth bite my lower lip, adding in an electrifying pleasure throughout my body. A moan escapes suit when he licks my swollen bottom lip, while a low chuckle can be heard from Kaminar ``Enjoying it princess?” He swipes his thumb on my lip seductively as he enchants me further to give in to my desires. Breathless, only a sigh escaped me as I inched my forehead to his, closing my eyes while I catch my breath “How in the world, do you manage to always take my breath away?”

Only silence can be heard at first, then a giggle follows. Cupping both of my cheeks, still resting our foreheads together as we soak in each other’s presence “You think you’re the only one feeling that way? If only words were enough for me to convey what I feel. I swear, you’ve always had that effect on me.” As he swipes away the strands of hair behind my ear, he gives me one final kiss on lips, this time less heated than the last. Oh no, this one was filled with nothing but pure intent and innocence, again, as I lost count, I melted on his lips.

Why is it that whenever I’m with him, the world seems to stop? As if we were the only ones living in that very moment. Is this the effect of truly falling in love? If that’s the case, then I’m more than happy to fall in love with this mischievous yet chivalrous knight.

“Can I stay the night here? I promise I’ll behave and I’ll leave as soon as the sun rises. Don’t want your parents knowing their precious princess is actually a rebel hehe” he teased, I only slapped his shoulder away as I laughed “Even if I said no, I know you’ll find ways to persuade me, my brave knight~” This time, it’s my turn to tease him, with his face slightly pink I felt as if I won at that very moment. He only grumbled, stating how using that nickname wasn’t fair, I only rolled my eyes as I pulled him closer to the bed sheets “Oh shush you, just sleep beside me tonight. You’re better when you aren’t babbling about.” Another grumble came out but then turned to a contented sigh as he snuggled further on my chest.

We both know that at some point, the sun will rise once again. Then, we’ll be back to our normal lives. But who is to say whe should always abide by the rules? Why can’t we live like this, content and happy? Was it so wrong? I will never truly  understand. Whatever we both may face, I will always be right here beside him, beside my knight in shining armor.

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

🕊 Melville and Hawthorne

I remember when one of our mutuals received submission from an anonymous named Dove. I remember that insider mentioned many things about the girls but he also spoke about a particular character whose life caught my attention. Herman Melville. Melville was a New York poet who fell madly in love with another writer named Nathaniel Hawthorne. They had a very intense love affair, but it had to be hidden because it was the 19th century and homosexual love was forbidden. But it was not forbidden to write about it. This is an article from the page:

https://www.brainpickings.org/2019/02/13/herman-melville-nathaniel-hawthorne-love-letters/

Herman Melville’s Passionate, Beautiful, Heartbreaking Love Letters to Nathaniel Hawthorne:

“Your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.”

BY MARIA POPOVA The summer when nineteen-year-old Emily Dickinson met the love of her life — the orphaned mathematician-in-training Susan Gilbert, who would come to be the poet’s greatest muse, her mentor, her primary reader and editor, her fiercest lifelong attachment, her “Only Woman in the World” — another intense, label-defying love was igniting in the heart of another literary titan-to-be some fifty miles westward. That other love unfolds alongside Dickinson’s in Figuring — a book I wrote to explore, among other existential perplexities, the bittersweet beauty of asymmetrical and half-requited loves. (This essay is adapted from the book.)

On August 5, 1850, Herman Melville met Nathaniel Hawthorne at a literary gathering in the Berkshires. Hawthorne was forty-six. The achingly shy, brooding writer, once celebrated as “handsomer than Lord Byron,” had risen to celebrity a decade earlier, much thanks to a glowing endorsement by Margaret Fuller. Melville — whose debut novel had rendered him a literary star in his twenties — had just turned thirty-one.

Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne A potent intellectual infatuation ignited between the two men — one that, at least for Melville, seems to have grown from the cerebral to the corporeal. Within days, the young author reviewed Hawthorne’s short story collection Mosses from an Old Manse in Literary World under the impersonal byline “a Virginian Spending July in Vermont.” No claim of this intentional ambiguity was true — Melville was a New Yorker, the month was August, and he was spending it in Massachusetts.

The review, nearing seven thousand words, was nothing less than an editorial serenade. “A man of a deep and noble nature has seized me in this seclusion… His wild, witch voice rings through me,” Melville wrote of reading Hawthorne’s stories in a remote farmhouse nestled in the summer foliage of the New England countryside. “The soft ravishments of the man spun me round in a web of dreams.” Melville couldn’t have known that his allusions to witchcraft, intended as compliment, had disquieting connotations for Hawthorne. Born Nathaniel Hathorne, he had added a w to the family name in order to distance himself from his ancestor John Hathorne — a leading judge involved in the Salem witch trials, who, unlike the other culpable judges, never repented of his role in the murders. Unwitting of the dark family history, Melville found himself under “this Hawthorne’s spell” — a spell cast first by his writing, then by the constellation of personal qualities from which the writing radiated. Who hasn’t fallen in love with an author in the pages of a beautiful book? And if that author, when befriended in the real world, proves to be endowed with the splendor of personhood that the writing intimates, who could resist falling in love with the whole person? Melville presaged as much:

No man can read a fine author, and relish him to his very bones, while he reads, without subsequently fancying to himself some ideal image of the man and his mind… There is no man in whom humor and love are developed in that high form called genius; no such man can exist without also possessing, as the indispensable complement of these, a great, deep intellect, which drops down into the universe like a plummet. Or, love and humor are only the eyes, through which such an intellect views this world. The great beauty in such a mind is but the product of its strength.

After comparing Hawthorne to Shakespeare, he writes:

In this world of lies, Truth is forced to fly like a scared white doe in the woodlands; and only by cunning glimpses will she reveal herself, as in Shakespeare and other masters of the great Art of Telling the Truth, — even though it be covertly, and by snatches./// This words came from the original 🕊 wrote

“I am Posterity speaking by proxy,” Melville bellows from the page, “when I declare — that the American, who up to the present day, has evinced, in Literature, the largest brain with the largest heart, that man is Nathaniel Hawthorne.” In an aside on the process of composing his review, he notes that twenty-four hours into writing, he found himself “charged more and more with love and admiration of Hawthorne.” Quoting an especially beguiling line of Hawthorne’s, he insists that “such touches… can not proceed from any common heart.” No, they bespeak “such a depth of tenderness, such a boundless sympathy with all forms of being, such an omnipresent love” that they render their author singular in his generation — as singular as the place he would come to occupy in Melville’s heart.

Hawthorne’s home, Old Manse. Concord, Massachusetts. (Boston Public Library.) Fervid correspondence and frequent visits followed over the next few months. Only ten of Melville’s letters to Hawthorne survive, but their houses were just six miles apart and they saw each other quite often — “discussing the Universe with a bottle of brandy & cigars,” as Melville put it in one invitation, and talking deep into the night about “time and eternity, things of this world and of the next, and books, and publishers, and all possible and impossible matters,” as Hawthorne recounted in his diary. Punctuating the invisible log of all that was written but destroyed is all that was spoken but unwritten, all that was felt but unspoken.

Melville’s ardor was most acute during the period of writing Moby-Dick, which he dedicated to Hawthorne. Printed immediately after the title page was “In Token of My Admiration for his Genius, This Book is Inscribed to Nathaniel [sic] Hawthorne.”

(The two lovers lived very close to each other, isn’t sounds familiar folks?)

Art by Matt Kish from Moby-Dick in Pictures: One Drawing for Every Page One November evening over dinner, a restlessly excited Herman presented Nathaniel with a lovingly inscribed copy of the novel whose now-legendary protagonist sails from Nantucket into the existential unknown. I can picture the brooding Hawthorne turning the leaf and suppressing a beam of delight upon discovering the printed dedication. In the following century, Virginia Woolf would perform a similar gesture with her groundbreaking, gender-bending novel Orlando, inspired by her lover Vita Sackville-West and later described by Vita’s son as “the longest and most charming love letter in literature.” On the day of Orlando’s publication, Vita would receive a package containing not only the printed book, but also Virginia’s original manuscript, bound specially for her in Niger leather and stamped with her initials on the spine.

But after the elated private presentation, a very different public fate awaited Moby-Dick. Its 1851 publication was met with a damning review in New York’s Literary World, which set the tone for its American reception and precipitated its decades-long plunge into obscurity. The reviewer’s chief complaint was that the novel “violated and defaced” “the most sacred associations of life”—an indictment aimed at the homoeroticism of Melville’s choice to depict Ishmael and Queequeg as sharing a “marriage bed” in which they awaken with their arms around each other.

Queequeg’s favorite dish, cooked and photographed by artist Dinah Fried for her project Fictitious Dishes: An Album of Literature’s Most Memorable Meals. Ten days later, Hawthorne lamented the obtuseness of the review and praised Moby-Dick as Melville’s best work yet. Touched to the point of delirium by this “exultation-breeding letter,” Melville hastened to reply:

Your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… It is a strange feeling — no hopefulness is in it, no despair. Content — that is it; and irresponsibility; but without licentious inclination. I speak now of my profoundest sense of being, not of an incidental feeling.

Whence come you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips — lo, they are yours and not mine. I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces.

Aware of how his intemperate fervor might incinerate his relationship with the cooler-tempered Hawthorne, Melville reasons with himself for a moment, then chooses to abandon reason:

My dear Hawthorne, the atmospheric skepticisms steal into me now, and make me doubtful of my sanity in writing you thus. But, believe me, I am not mad, most noble Festus! But truth is ever incoherent, and when the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning.

After signing, he adds a feverish postscript:

I can’t stop yet. If the world was entirely made up of [magicians], I’ll tell you what I should do. I should have a paper-mill established at one end of the house, and so have an endless riband of foolscap rolling in upon my desk; and upon that endless riband I should write a thousand — a million — billion thoughts, all under the form of a letter to you. The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds. Which is the biggest? A foolish question — they are One.

The intensity proved too concussing for Hawthorne — he pulled away from the divine magnet. Melville seems to have presaged the eclipse of their relationship in the review in which the magnetism had begun:

It is that blackness in Hawthorne… that so fixes and fascinates me. It may be, nevertheless, that it is too largely developed in him. Perhaps he does not give us a ray of his light for every shade of his dark.

As Hawthorne retreated into his cool darkness, Melville suffered with the singular anguish of unreturned ardor—anguish that stayed with him for the remaining four decades of his life, for he eulogized it in one of his last poems, “Monody,” penned in his final year:

To have known him, to have loved him, After loneness long; And then to be estranged in life, And neither in the wrong; And now for death to set his seal — Ease me, a little ease, my song!

By wintry hills his hermit-mound The sheeted snow-drifts drape, And houseless there the snow-bird flits Beneath the fir-tree’s crape: Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine That hid the shyest grape.

Herman Melville in his final years. Meanwhile, the gaps of the invisible and the unspoken are filled with posterity’s questions about specifics that vibrate with the universal: What happened between Melville and Hawthorne in the unrecorded hours? Why did Nathaniel ultimately repel the divine magnet of Herman’s love? Most probably, we’ll never know. Possibly, they themselves never fully did. It is almost banal to say, yet it needs to be said: No one ever knows, nor therefore has grounds to judge, what goes on between two people, often not even the people themselves, half-opaque as we are to ourselves. One thing is certain: The quotient of intimacy cannot be contained in a label. The human heart is an ancient beast that roars and purrs with the same passions, whatever labels we may give them. We are so anxious to classify and categorize, both nature and human nature. It is a beautiful impulse — to contain the infinite in the finite, to wrest order from the chaos, to construct a foothold so we may climb toward higher truth. It is also a limiting one, for in naming things we often come to mistake the names for the things themselves. The labels we give to the loves of which we are capable — varied and vigorously transfigured from one kind into another and back again — cannot begin to contain the complexity of feeling that can flow between two hearts and the bodies that contain them.

_____

I don't think I can add anything to what Maria described that doesn't remind me of Camren. Or Camila. Sometimes I feel that Lauren and Camila are two reincarnated souls of former lovers who could never live their love in freedom, even these days. Where the love between homosexual couples will always be condemned and criticized and hated and will have to continue living in the shadows having only freedom in song lyrics, in poetry, literature, cinema. How much more time will it take for those ancient reincarnated lovers to live in freedom? In how many more generations can they really be free? I do not know. I only know that I hope I don't die before I get to see it Thanks Dove, whoever you were for showing us that story. If you read this, we are still here supporting the girls and that hidden love.

[mermaider00]

No4forLotor || VLD!Lotor/DDP!Lotor

Note: This pairing is two different Lotors, one from Voltron: Legendary Defender and the other from the Devils Due comics. DDP!Lotor will be referred to here as “the Prince” 

If this pairing is not for you, then don’t read it and go about your day. Happy No4forLotor, everyone 

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This is the craziest thing he’s ever done.

There was only one great tear. Lotor isn’t sure if there are more and no one has yet discovered it, but the one great tear was something neither reality could ignore. One rip that created one entrance, like a door opening to a very mysterious room that was always meant to be closed securely, with those on the other side not meant to mingle. It is still unknown to scientists on both sides how this great tear occurred, but now two realities have bled into one.

There are now two Zarkons. An Emperor and a King. There are two great races, the Galra and the Drule. Lotor was certain there would be a declaration of war almost instantly for supremacy, for all the power of two realities that could no longer be separated and sealed away. In a shocking turn of events, the Emperor and the King came to an agreement, to work together for the time being to completely conquer both realities with the resources and knowledge of the other. The Emperor and the King look nothing alike, are of a different species and home world, but there is something inside them that understands the other. Lotor is convinced both Zarkons don’t intend for this to be a permanent truce and are only biding their time until the other is no longer useful, but there are also two Voltron’s trying to stop them.

Each Zarkon has a son. Prince Lotor.

His father the Emperor was not against him meeting the Drule Prince of another reality. Lotor was certain that he would not be able to stay away from his alternate self even if he was forbidden from meeting him, he would simply find a way and knew in his heart the Prince would want to meet him with equal desire. They are so alike and yet they are so different in many ways. As soon as his blue eyes met the golden hues of the Drule Prince, there was a gravitational pull in his body and mind and soul that he would never be able to avoid. Not that he would want to.

So he didn’t. Lotor gave into it, his curiosity and the explorer trapped inside him his father the Emperor had tried to destroy vibrating with excitement and thirsty for knowledge. This person was him but he was also not. They shared the name, the title, the tyrant father. They were the same height and had the same voice. Their mothers were gone and were neither Drule nor Galra, but the blood of both women was strong in the veins of their sons.

They were the same and they also were not.

Lotor wondered if this was how his father the Emperor felt when speaking with his alternate self. Was the deep understanding Lotor felt with the Prince the same as Zarkon felt with the King? Was there a strange unspoken bond there? Lotor hoped it was not the same.

Lotor was drawn to the Prince. The Prince was equally drawn to Lotor.

Their bond eventually would evolve into something like attraction. And then attraction became desire. One that was impossible to ignore.

And it is the craziest thing he’s ever done.

There is something about the Prince that Lotor is weak for. They look alike but yet the Prince is a completely different man with his own attributes, like the blue of his skin or the gold of his eyes. They are different but yet the Prince understands the struggles he faces, the abuse at the hands of their evil fathers, the burdens of doing what must be done and how sometimes those burdens keep them awake at night. The Prince is a handsome man who does not flinch at the sight of the scars along Lotor’s back put there by his father the Emperor. The Prince is not appalled by the things Lotor has done in order to survive and the Prince does not judge him. He does not think he’s a monster like many believe him to be because the Prince knows his true intentions without Lotor having to speak them.

The Prince is someone Lotor has longed for his entire life, and a great tear in the space between two realities has granted his wish.

Who could ever understand you more than your own self? Someone who is you but also not?

It is a crazy thing, to get involved in such a way with the Prince. It almost feels taboo.

It feels…

Forbidden, is what Lotor thinks when the Prince finds him in the halls of a Drule ship where there are no guards, when he stares at Lotor with his golden eyes as he struts closer to him in his ridiculous Drule outfit and presses him against the wall. They are quiet as they stare into the intense eyes of the other.

Leaning forward slowly, the Prince kisses him.

They did not plan for this to happen. They hadn’t looked at each other the first time they met, a miracle on its own, and decide to become intimate. Lotor had not been with a man in a long time, he has always preferred women. The Prince had been far more comfortable for this strange surprise than he had been, and Lotor had wondered at the time if it was some perverse kink, to bed his alternate self simply to say that he had. An odd victory.

But the way the Prince kisses him is the same way Lotor kisses him back. And when Lotor kisses him, he feels more peace than he has ever felt in ten-thousand hard and lonely years.

Perhaps the only person who could ever truly understand him… is Prince Lotor in another body.

It feels forbidden, taboo. It is also exhilarating and wild and good.

To be with the Prince… Lotor can finally feel some pleasure.

In his ridiculous Drule outfit with his battle helmet set firmly on his white hair and his cape draped behind him over his shoulders, the Prince caresses Lotor’s neck, opens his mouth for the other man’s tongue. When his lips find the other side of his neck to nip on, Lotor’s claws sink into his waist, his fangs bared in pleasure.

“Stay here for the night,” the Prince rumbles against his neck, the tips of his own fangs softly pressing against purple skin.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t you?” The Prince kisses up his neck to his jaw, his hand sliding down to rest upon Lotor’s pectoral. “You enjoy my comfortable bed. Your night terrors aren’t as frequent when you’re with me.”

“This is getting complicated. Any moment now our fathers could turn and suddenly demand the head of the other. What do you think happens to me if the King finds me in your bed? Again?”

The Prince’s golden eyes darken. “I will take his head myself if he were to harm you.”

“But you haven’t,” Lotor replies with a slight desperation in his voice. It is easy to be himself and feel the things he feels when with the Prince. “You haven’t done that, in countless years. You hate your father as much as I do mine. And the King still stands and rules.”

One way they are different is the great arrogance within the Prince, one that sometimes makes him a bit careless. Arrogant and careless are things Lotor does not have the privilege of being. The Prince sighs and rolls his beautiful eyes, his hand rubbing at Lotor’s chest. “So much fear for a few measly hours. Your reality has made you so afraid.”

They may have a bond that has now gone deeper than either had ever intended, but there are times when Lotor finds him simply infuriating. His blue eyes go hard and he releases his hold on the Prince’s waist, feeling defiant. “You are a spoiled brat.”

The Prince chuckles darkly and yanks Lotor against him, taking his mouth quickly before their lips smack away. “That’s right. A rotten spoiled brat who thinks of nothing but you. You have consumed me, Prince Lotor.”

“Don’t sweet talk me. That mouth of yours will get you killed. It has already gotten you hurt.”

The Prince and the King don’t have the same relationship as the Emperor and his son. Lotor learned long ago to lie to his father with obedient words, to kneel for him as he cursed him dead within his heart, to carry out his orders as he gave his own meant for sabotage. The very few times Lotor has snipped back at the Emperor, it was always met with devastating sacrifice. Sacrifices Lotor can no longer endure.

Especially now, when his heart aches for a man who shares his name.

But the Prince, Lotor knew firsthand, does as he pleases in the halls of his ships, in the palace on his home world. King Zarkon hates his son more than he is ever proud of him, but the Prince’s back does not carry the scars Lotor’s own does, inflicted there by the hand of the Emperor. The Prince suffers, but not as Lotor does.

He has been hurt, however.

Both men think of a time recently, when Lotor had been on his way to see the Prince. He’d been told to go to his personal chambers, and with clearance as he passed Drule guards, Lotor had made his way there as if he had every right to. He’d been excited to see the Prince again, his heart already jumping in his chest at the chance to touch him again. To feel that peace that took away all the hurt inside him.

Lotor had opened the door to see King Zarkon’s big hand around the Prince’s throat, holding him up in midair by his neck, his feet dangling far from the ground.

Fury had instantly consumed him, his fangs already sharpened and bared with the intention of ripping the King’s throat out for putting a hand on the Prince in such an awful manner. And seeing that fury inside the man who was not his son as instantly as it had taken Lotor, King Zarkon dropped his son to the ground as he would an old cloak.

The Prince, not caring about his wounded throat, had rushed to Lotor’s side to stop him from making a grave mistake. Attacking the King would call for execution, he’d said to Lotor as he took his shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes and not the apathy in the King’s. The Prince had caressed his cheek, whispered into his ear, unmoved by what his father would think of such intimate actions.

“I’m fine,” the Prince had told him, his voice a little hoarse. “Calm down, Lotor. If you don’t, he will kill you. Please.”

Why must they both suffer, no matter the reality? Were there other Lotors in other realities being hurt by their fathers and without their mothers? If Lotor had not barged in, would the King have strangled him?

As the Prince tried his best to hold Lotor back, King Zarkon walked passed them, big and powerful and strong. He sneered at them, scoffed, rolling his eyes and also completely unsurprised that his son would embarrass him this way. “You disgust me, both of you,” he’d said to them before exiting.

Why is it that the only person who will protect them be someone they could never ever meet under normal circumstances? Lotor had wondered.

He wonders it again now as he stares at the hopeful Prince, knowing he’s playing off his need to be with him, to be able to protect him, as nothing more than desire.

They want to be together. They want to protect the other from their fathers.

It is a crazy thing, what Lotor feels in his heart for this man who shares his name and title.

The Prince squeezes his shoulders, wraps his arms around Lotor’s neck. He presses their bodies close and softly kisses his lips again. “I want you. Please stay with me.”

Does he feel what Lotor feels when with him? Lotor knows the truth when he’s kissed by him. The Prince couldn’t hide it even if he tried.

Later that night, when the Prince’s legs are spread around him and his hands grasp at his arms, Lotor knows staying with him was the right choice. The way the Prince moans and looks up at him, the way he sinks into his very comfortable bed, the way he snuggles against his back to spoon him when they’re done… Lotor understands that the Prince needs him as much as Lotor needs the Prince.

One Prince Lotor is all they have. The only peace and love and acceptance they feel is with each other. It shouldn’t be this way. It’s a crazy thing. Crazier than a tear in the space between realties.

The Prince holds him close, breathes into his mussed white hair. With Lotor’s scarred back against his chest, the Prince always makes sure to be the one closest to the door, should anyone want to end their affair because of embarrassment or disgrace or even jealousy with an ambush. The Prince will shield Lotor with his own body if he must.

Better for Lotor to be with him than without him.

“Don’t be so afraid,” the Prince whispers into his ear, their naked bodies pressed tightly against the other. His hand rests on Lotor’s chest, and Lotor is quick to take it and hold on. “No terrors for you tonight, my love.”

This is the craziest thing he’s ever done, Lotor thinks again as he kisses the Prince’s hand.

And it is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

[emwritesfootball]

Bir öpücük [One kiss] | Berke Özer and Zeki Çelik

Word Count: 2,931

Warnings: Cheating, Oral Sex (male and female giving/receiving), Age Gap (4-5 Years), Third Person POV

Summary: When She and Berke get in a fight, Zeki is there to comfort Her...

A/N: I asked and nobody answered so you're getting it anyway xx This is my entry for @footballffbarbiex's latest writing challenge for the Forbidden Love category and I wrote this last night because I got inspired. Biiig thank you to @meteora-fc and @sammisze for the proofreading and extra suggestions. Enjoy y'all <3

- - -

“Where have you been?” She sounds like a petulant child - or worse, a concerned parent - and regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth.

Berke shoots her a look, rolling his eyes as he starts to undress. “Out. What business is it of yours?”

“I’m your girlfriend.” Her voice is shrill to her ears and she hates it. “You didn’t think to invite me out?”

“Just wanted a guys night. Is that so wrong?”

“Not at all! I just wish you’d communicate better sometimes.”

“I’m twenty-one - what do you expect?” He mocks, throwing what she usually uses as a teasing excuse when he fucks up in her face.

They haven’t been together long - a little under three months - but things were serious enough for him to bring her with him to Turkey from Belgium with his latest call-up to the U-19 side of the national team. They’d met through mutual friends, and the attraction was immediate. She had been hesitant, though, with their age gap, but Berke had assured her that four years wasn’t that big of an age gap, and their relationship had started from there.

She soon learned that dating a younger man - especially one of Berke’s status - wasn’t all she’d thought it would be. Berke’s rising fame as a skilled keeper, the media likening him to now-manager Şenol Güneş back in his career when he was one of the “Trabzonpor Efsanesi”, quickly took a toll on their relationship. A simple Google search had told her just how prestigious of a title that was, and part of her was surprised that he wanted to date her when he could be out playing the field.

Then, there were the red flags. He preferred to DM her on Instagram or just send her a simple wordless Snapchat; if she wanted to call him or FaceTime, they’d have to plan it so far in advance that Berke would ultimately forget about it. Whenever he was with her, he always seemed to be glued to his phone. She wasn’t completely immune to distractions either, and she’d played on her phone a few times too, but something about when he did it unnerved her.

She mostly brushed it all off, hoping it would all die down once the season was over and the two of them could go on holiday together and get to know each other on a different level. In a way, she’d been looking at this trip to Turkey as a practice holiday, but now she fears they’re about to be over before they even really had a chance to begin.

“I don’t expect much, Berke,” she says, searching for her words. “Hell, I don’t even care where you went tonight - I just would have preferred to know if you were gonna be out late so I could’ve gone to bed hours ago.”

“So I forgot to text you? So what?! I wasn’t aware I was dating my mother.” The way he says the word has her reeling. They haven’t shared too many intimate, deep stories, but she knows that Berke is well-aware of the fact that she hates being compared to anyone’s mother and that she’s insecure enough about their age gap as it is.

“Well, I wasn’t aware I was dating a child, so I guess we’re even,” she sneers, barely concealing her tears as she exits the hotel room she and Berke are sharing and makes a beeline for the hotel bar.

She takes a seat at the bar, relaxing a bit when her quick scan of the patrons tells her that nobody else she’d know is there. Her Turkish isn’t great - Berke had promised to translate - but ‘shots’ and ‘another’ seem to be universal, and after downing a few shots, she switches to a double Scotch on the rocks. As she drinks, she replays the last few hours in her mind. She knows she let her insecurities get the better of her and she regrets it; she also wants to apologize but it’s late and she figures Berke either left the room or is asleep and she doesn’t really feel like going back up to the room and finding out which one it is.

“You okay?” Zeki Çelik’s voice brings her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” She turns to face him, confused.

“You let out a sigh… I assume something is wrong?”

“Oh.” She laughs awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t realize I’d done that.” She gives him a small smile, gesturing to the empty barstool beside her. “You can sit if you want.”

Zeki returns her smile, taking the seat she offers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She drains her Scotch, signaling to the bartender who appears. Zeki puts in for two club sodas, and even though she throws him a glare, she doesn’t correct him as she starts, “Not really. Berke and I had a fight.”

“Oh.” Zeki nods sagely and she can tell he wants to ask more but he doesn’t.

The two of them sit in silence for a few long moments before she finally caves. “It was a long time coming, I think. We didn’t break up, obviously, but we definitely said things that were both on our minds.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zeki says, taking a sip of his club soda when it arrives.

“It’s okay,” you reply, waving off the sentiment with your hand. You’re tipsy now and you want to talk about it. “He compared me to his mother and I called him a child.” You let out a derisive laugh, shaking your head. “It was ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“This is exactly what I worried was going to happen when the two of us started dating but Berke swore our age difference wasn’t a big deal to him…”

She trails off and Zeki finds himself studying her intently. “You’re older?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding. “Almost five years, actually. I’m 25.”

“Wow - I just assumed you were younger.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “No. I think I just need to learn from this. I just need a smaller age gap - or just stick to older guys.”

“You just need to find a younger guy who appreciates you,” Zeki says softly, making her pause. The way he’s looking at her isn’t like anything she’s ever seen on Berke’s face, and against her better judgment, her heart starts to beat a little faster. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and her breath hitches.

“Zeki-”

“I know,” he replies, looking away. “We can’t. You’re with Berke.” He runs a hand over his face and down his beard - an action she doesn’t miss - sighing. “I would never do that to a teammate and a friend - no matter how into their girlfriend I was.”

“Wh-what?” She’s stunned, blinking rapidly as she tries to process his words.

“It wasn’t intentional, don’t worry,” Zeki backtracks, chuckling nervously. “I just thought you were beautiful when I first saw you. I didn’t know then that you were Berke’s girl, but in that moment, I fell for you.” He pauses, draining his club soda. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone now, but I sincerely hope you and Berke work it out.”

He gets up to leave and she puts a hand on his forearm, looking up at him. “Stay. Please? You can tell me I’m beautiful some more if you’d like,” she jokes, relieved when he laughs and sits back down.

Something tells her they’ve both crossed a line, but it feels good to just sit and talk with an attractive man who thinks she’s beautiful, not giving Berke a second thought as she laughs with Zeki.

When she yawns and Zeki follows seconds later, they both know it’s time to turn in; they’ve drunk their fill of club sodas and her mini-hangover from the shots and Scotch is getting the better of her. Zeki wraps an arm around her shoulder, steadying her as she stands, and she can’t help leaning into his touch, sighing contentedly. He’s not as tall as Berke, but she doesn’t miss how good it feels to have him rest his chin on top of her head as they wait for the lift back to their respective floors.

Their ride is quiet yet comfortable, but she gets confused when the lift stops on his floor first but Zeki makes no move to get off. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says nonchalantly, and she hates the way her heartbeat picks up at the basic chivalry he’s just displayed.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking up at him. She’s still tucked into his side and the knowledge that she’s going to be leaving his warmth in a matter of minutes has her feeling a sense of loss she didn’t know she was capable of feeling.

The lift door opens on her floor, and suddenly she doesn’t want to get off. Zeki waits patiently, watching her attentively as the doors close and she moves to press the number for his floor again. “The problem is,” she starts as the lift begins to descend again, “is that I don’t want to go to my room right now.”

Zeki swallows hard at the innuendo, his grip around her waist tightening almost imperceptibly. “Balım, if I let you come to my room, we won’t be sleeping.” Honey.

The doors open again and she walks out with Zeki, weighing her options. She knows that she shouldn’t, but Zeki feels so good and she doesn’t want to go back to her room with an angry Berke. “One kiss,” she says when they stop in front of Zeki’s hotel room. She’s almost certain this kiss will erase her attraction to him and she can go back to the bar and drown her sorrows before she actually goes to bed.

“One kiss,” Zeki murmurs, stepping closer so she’s pinned between him and the wall. His eyes are dark with lust and she swallows hard as she looks up at him, her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip, making Zeki moan.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she places a hand on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat underneath her palm. Her other hand winds around the back of his neck, her fingers threading in his hair. Zeki’s hands are on her waist, his touch burning through her clothes and searing her skin.

The moment his lips touch hers, she’s gone. Zeki kisses her like he’s kissed her a thousand times, with just the right amount of pressure and neediness that leaves her wanting more. When he breaks the kiss, they’re both breathing heavily, but she needs more. Her eyes search his and without another word, she stands on her tiptoes and drags him back down for another kiss.

She doesn’t know how he kisses her while fumbling for his key card, but Zeki never breaks the kiss even as he opens the door and leads her inside his hotel room. He turns on a light and she uses the opportunity to take off her shirt, giving him a wicked grin when he does a double take at her in her bra. “Fuck!” He curses in Turkish, taking her back in his arms as his hands slide up her back to unclasp the bra. “Çok güzelsin,” he murmurs before kissing her again. You’re so beautiful.

Her bra falls to the floor and Zeki is quick to palm her breasts, pressing kisses to the tops of each of them before taking each of her nipples in his mouth. She cries out, arching her back as her fingers find his hair. His scruff scrapes across her sensitive skin and she knows she’s probably going to have beard burn in the morning but she doesn’t care.

Zeki leads her over to the bed, watching as she falls backward and reaches for him, pulling him down on top of her with ease. It’s her turn to undress him, her moans of approval sounding as she runs her hands down his muscled torso. He can’t think straight when she reaches for the button on his jeans and he’s quickly pulling them off his body so he can do the same to her.

“Zeki!” She whimpers when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and tugs them down, the cool air hitting her pussy as he spreads her legs and kneels between them.

“Be good for me, Balım, and I’ll make sure you get to cum,” he murmurs, kissing his way up her inner thighs. The sensation of his beard brushing over the skin of her inner thighs goes straight to her clit and she knows she’s already dripping wet for him.

She loses it when he finally puts his mouth on her pussy. He looks up at her from between her legs as he sucks her clit and she almost cums from that alone. Zeki continues to speak Turkish to her as he eats her out, loving the way she comes undone from his words alone. He can feel his cock throbbing and he knows he won’t last long inside her, but he focuses on giving her a mindblowing first orgasm.

When Zeki commands her to cum for him, her body’s response is immediate. Her inner walls clench around the two fingers he inserted inside her, her fingers fisting the bedsheets as she writhes under his touch. He kisses her hard, drawing out her orgasm by curling his fingers inside her, and she can taste herself on his lips.

“My turn,” she says wickedly, dropping to her knees to play with his cock. He’s already leaking precum and she wraps a hand around his shaft, giving him a few pumps before she puts her mouth on him.

Zeki lets loose a string of Turkish when she takes him as far down her throat as she can, gagging on his length. His fingers find her hair and he tugs, pulling her mouth off his dick before he can cum. “I’ll cum down your throat later,” he growls, his heavily-accented English sending a thrill down her spine. “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

She doesn’t protest when he bends her over the bed, taking her from behind. He fucks her roughly, pulling her hair to make her arch her back so he can hit her pussy from an angle that makes her eyes roll back. “Zeki, please!” She begs, her face pressed into the mattress.

His deft fingers find her clit and it isn’t long after that she’s cumming around his cock, milking his orgasm. She can feel his cum coat the inside of her pussy and she knows he’ll be dripping out of her when he pulls out, a thought that turns her on.

The moment Zeki pulls out of her, he goes to get cleaned up. He brings her a warm washcloth and proceeds to carefully clean her up, making sure to run the rough fabric over her clit a few times so he can watch her pussy spasm around nothing. “Such a good girl for me,” he praises, trailing kisses down her back.

“It wasn’t hard,” she counters, giving him a cheesy grin as he settles in bed and motions for her to join him. She falls asleep in his arms, sated and content.

It isn’t until the morning when she wakes up and fully realizes the ramifications of what she’s done.

***

Waking up in Zeki’s arms feels like a dream, and she’s almost sure she’s dreaming until he shifts and stretches, giving her a small smile. “Günaydın,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. Good morning. “How did you sleep?”

She doesn’t answer him, instead moving to throw back the covers and find her clothes. “Shit!” She curses, running a hand through her hair. “I’m a mess; I should shower before I get back, right? God, fuck, Berke’s gonna know something’s up.”

“Look at me, Balım,” Zeki says soothingly, getting up from the bed and coming to rest his hands on her shoulders.”It’s gonna be okay - we’ll figure this out.”

“I can’t believe I cheated on him,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand as she tries to keep tears at bay. “I...I was mad at him - I never thought I’d do something this awful.”

“I know, I know you didn’t mean it,” he says, pulling her into his arms against his better judgment. The regret in her voice makes him feel hollow, but he doesn’t dare put his own feelings on her in this moment. After all, it isn’t fair for him to have slept with his teammate’s girlfriend, regardless of how he’s felt about her this last week. “Don’t worry. This was just a one-time thing and I promise I won’t tell him unless you decide to.”

“You won’t?” The relief on her face as she looks up at him makes him want to die, but Zeki nods.

“I won’t. Now, let’s figure out what to do. Why don’t you shower here and then we’ll figure out what to do next, okay?”

***

Zeki watches, heartbroken, as she goes back to Berke like nothing happened. Logically, he knew that the two of them wouldn’t have lasted even if she’d dumped Berke for him, but it still hurts. He knows this is for the best, that lying to Berke was the only way to keep the team together (or, at least, that’s what he’s telling himself), but he can’t help wishing he was the one on her arm instead.

[slutsofren]

I’m begging you to please give us more Kylo & Mistress AU!! Whatever you want to show us, first time ever together (sex)? Or more details on the honeymoon?

I have been thinking a lot about Mistress and CEO Kylo’s first meeting and subsequent affair, I really do love them,,, so much,,, so fucking much,,,, the attitude,,, the power shifts,,,, the playful air that engulfs them,,, ugh swoon,,, Anywho, once I got started on this, I couldn’t stop. This monster is big for a blurb lol

You can read it on AO3 here 

** CEO Kylo & Mistress AU: the meet-cute, first date sex, Bazine calls when y’all are fuckin’ and you let her listen, kind of vanilla since this is the first date and all, more in-depth into CEO Kylo’s background. I hope you enjoy this shenanigan as much as I did, Anon!

First Time Meeting and Second Missed Calls

Your phone had buzzed for the second time that night, yet another missed call from the filth of a man you were to be meeting tonight. You gave absolutely no second chances for potential business associates, especially if they’re late to the very first meeting. You rose from your seat nearby the window, asking the server to redirect your bill to the bar as you planned on drinking a couple glasses of wine to soothe your irritation.

Tonight was one of those nights where you bothered to wear heels, something you once learned from a mentor in college about appearing powerful and showing you would never bow to a man in this industry. That you could easily poke an eye out with the length of the heel. It always worked.

It had taken you some time to grow accustomed to loving your body, each and every inch of it was yours and you’d be damned if you let some man make you feel like you were less than because of your gender and curves. You loved yourself and that was that. You’d claw out the eyes of the next man who would belittle your business practices based on your gender, you would always come out on top.

You caved in and ordered whatever sweet dessert wine they offered, something few knew about you was your sweet tooth and how you’d love to sneak a delectable treat in once in a while. You drummed your fingers against the countertop, your other hand began fingering your wine glass. You took these few quiet moments to watch people, trying to silently guess why people were in Momofuku Ko on this particular evening during this very hour. A small game you enjoyed playing to pass the time.

Next to you, a woman stumbled to the bar nearly dropping her martini all over your silver dress but breaking the drink in her hand. A quick glance at her and you knew she was plastered, her loud and obnoxious voice scratching your ears. She looked relatively hopeless as she looked at the shards of glass and dripping liquid from the counter, the mess she made matching the mess her presence had.

You rolled your eyes as you checked your dress and purse quickly, making sure this miserable woman didn’t ruin your items.

“Hey! Can I get another mart-,” she tried to yell at the man behind the counter before a man cut her off, placing his hand on her shoulders from behind her. He shot you an apologetic look and faced the bartender.

“My apologies, sir, would you mind calling a cab for this woman, she seems to be out of her mind,” he stressed the last few words in her ear. The bartender raised a brow and nodded, motioning for some help from a nearby server.

“Hey you,” she threw her comments at you, “why are you dressed like a slut in front of my-” the man pulled her away from you. 

She protested, throwing her hands which way and that trying to stop herself from being promptly escorted from the premises by some security. Once she was gone, the mystery man looked at you once more, fixing his tie and suit.

A small smile left your lips as you raised your glass to him, “Wild night?”

He let out a huff, “It would seem to be.” He took long strides and sat on the opposite side of you, avoiding the broken glass and dropped alcohol.

“Your wife,” you pressed on. Curiosity nipping at your heels.

The man let out a grimace, “That obvious?”

This time you let that smile you’d be holding in appear across your plush lips. “My apologies, Mister-?”

“Ren, Kylo Ren. May I buy you another glass of wine for the inconvenience of having to see that woman’s unpleasant side, Miss?”

You paused a moment pretending to think, even taking the extra long couple seconds to suck in your bottom lip and bite it oh, so gently. “You may.” You reached your hand to his, introducing yourself to him. That meeting that brought you here was far away from your mind now that your phone hadn’t rang for what seemed like hours, maybe that fool got a clear picture that you did not offer second chances.

Before long, you two had moved to a quiet section of the restaurant. You both talked and drank the wine you prefered. Kylo said it was a new adventure since he mostly kept to whiskey but you could tell he was charmed by you and you with him.

Slowly yet surely, you found yourselves inching closer and closer to each other over the course of your conversation, his warm arm pressed around your shoulders as you both talked from everything from business pet peeves, to stock prices, and fashion. 

You looked into his eyes and for the briefest moment, you felt guilty. This was a married man, you clearly saw his wife earlier. Kylo held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking straight into your eyes and you felt as if he was looking into your soul as well.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispered your name.

“You’re married.”

“I am.”

“Then why-”

He leaned back in his seat and tore his eyes from you. He looked at the plate of food in front of him, to your hand that was still on his knee, then to the wall ahead of him. “We didn’t marry for love, if that’s what you’re wondering. I am a terrible man, I’ve burned people, I’ve caused deaths of some, I’m fire and brimstone to others. One thing I am not, is a liar.”

He took a pause, letting you absorb his words. “Bazine is my wife but it’s more of a title than an actual relationship. She owned a wonderful portion of a business I wanted to acquire and merge with my own and the condition for me to take full ownership was to be married to that dreadful woman for five years. Afterwards, I could divorce her and leave it all behind and do whatever I wanted with that company. At the time,” he finally admits, “it didn’t seem like I was sacrificing much, instead I would be gaining that much of a stronger footing over those who kept me down for so many years.”

“Delayed gratification,” you prompted.

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, something like that. That was almost three years ago. Three years of dealing with Bazine- her drunkenness and mishandling of the company. It’s been a long three years and will be an even longer two more.”

Kylo looked at you once more and grabbed your hand, raising it to his lips giving your cold fingers a warm kiss, “Come, let me take you to your hotel.” You conceded and followed him. After all he expressed about the complications of his arranged marriage, you felt for this man. In all his struggles he just looked worn and tired and you could tell he hid it well.

You both shuffled into the cab after Kylo insisted to settle your bill with his, his warm wool coat was draped over your shoulders, covering the sparkling silver satin your dress shone like tiny starlights.

The fifteen minute or so taxi drive from Momofuku to where you stayed at the WestHouse Hotel was cozy. Kylo didn’t press on your thoughts and you admired the comfortable silence that came with being in his presence. You let yourself lean on his body, trying to absorb some of his warmth that he radiated since you met him.

Upon your arrival to the hotel, Kylo once again insisted on paying for the taxi as he did at the restaurant, “Spending this evening with you was the first time in years where I wasn’t expected to be a certain person or act in a particular manner. Being with you tonight was truly a breath of fresh air.”

Kylo fiddled with a small piece of your hair, lacing it around his fingers before letting it go. The artificial lights from the hotel illuminated his face, much more than the intimate lighting at the restaurant did. Now you took notice of each and every freckle that littered his sharp features and his eyes, how they bore into yours. Anticipating.

“Bazine,” you left your unspoken question lingering in the air between you both.

“She has had her fair share of affairs during our,” he struggles to find the right word, “situation.” You were surprised at his confession, afterall you were fairly certain she attempted to call you a slut for making eye contact with Kylo just before the two of you properly met.

“As I said before, I am many things but a liar I am not.”

Kylo cupped your face and his eye contact never faltered from your gaze. “I will never force you to do anything,” he licked his lips, “uncouth.”

Fuck it.

You grabbed his hand and led him inside WestHouse, interlacing your fingers with his. Behind you, you could hear Kylo give a low chuckle, admiring you from behind as his coat engulfed you. It didn’t matter if you were tall or short, larger or smaller in size, this man made everybody look small in comparison, not to mention how obscenely wide his chest was. He was too damn sexy for his own good and you were daring to drink from that chalice of forbidden wine at any moment now.

In the elevator, you admired how your interlocked fingers appeared together so naturally, how his large hand encompassed yours. Your white glitter painted fingernails seemed to radiate what you were feeling within you, a rush of passion and fervor. If this were to be a one night stand, so be it. It would be a night you wouldn’t forget for a lifetime.

Once the two of you walked past the threshold to your hotel room, Kylo pinned you, throwing your purse to the side. Your back against the plain door shutting it in its place, locking you two away from the outside world. His large hands cupped your face as he did moments before down below at the entrance but this time, this time he kissed you as deeply as he could. You granted his tongue access as your kisses grew heated. Wanting nothing between you if you possibly could.

Kylo dropped his hands from your face to his coat, slipping it from your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. You took this moment to reach for his belt, slipping it from the loops of his pants, your mouth practically watering at the sound of the leather and metal falling to the floor.

He took your hand in his and led you deeper into the room, watching you like prey as you sauntered and gracefully stepped out of your d’orsay heels without having to touch them. Kylo moved your hair to the side as he began to pull on the zipper that kept you in the confines of the tight dress you wore for the evening, the sounds of the zipper being forced open on your back filled the room and you began to unbutton his shirt, the jacket he wore was thrown about somewhere else. Wherever it landed didn’t matter, only that you both got what you came for.

Each button stripped away revealing the broad chest you envisioned he had, your fingers expertly undid them as if you had been doing this dance with him since the beginning of time.

You both did not make a further move to kiss, only to gaze into each others’ eyes, as if you were engraving this moment in your minds forever. With his shirt unbuttoned and your dress just daring to fall, he raised an eyebrow at you and you let out a laugh before practically jumping into his arms. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you more, trailing each one further down as he stripped the gown from your body. 

Kylo was completely enthralled by you, enchanted by your confidence and ability to not shy away from the reality of who he was, a man who dominated every aspect of his life. He showed it, he showed you and promised himself to show you just how wild you make his heart beat if you’d allow him the pleasure, just as he bound himself to give you an insurmountable level of new highs tonight.

Reaching the top of the panties you donned for the evening, Kylo paused and looked up at you, “Is this okay?”

You placed one of your hands in his hair, feeling the strands tangle around your fingers as if trapping you and never letting go. “Yes, Kylo.” He leaned forward, laying his forehead at your stomach as if silently praying, thanking whatever it was out there that led you to him. Fate intervening.

A part of him wanted to hurry and bury himself deep in you but his skin screamed to stop and take it slow, to let these moments last and treasure your body- admiring each and every curve and dip. He inched your panties lower and lower until they fell and he took this moment to kiss that beautiful spot where your thighs met your sweet spot. After a few moments of soft languid kisses Kylo lifted your leg to straddle his shoulders as he began to kiss, bite, and suck at you.

You tried to keep your composure for just a little while longer, you really did try but once he began his magic, you fervently began to release breathy moans which only encouraged him on. His large hands grasped your ass, your thighs, anywhere those long fingers could grab. His tongue worked between your folds and it threw you overboard into cascading waves of pleasure. 

Two orgasms later, Kylo released you from his hold, letting you stand on your own. As he rose, he kissed his way back up to your lips and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You began to strip his clothes off him, as he did for you. Down to his boxers you led him to the bed and laid yourself down gently, a modest queen size bed for a queen afterall.

You hesitated for just a moment and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this, Kylo?”

Hearing his name drip like golden ichor from your plush lips was a true taste of ambrosia that made his mind spin. Not once has anybody spoken his name as you have, it was always spoken laced in fear, anxiety, or greed but you, you spoke his name with adoration. You looked at him from the bed, turned to face him, anxiously waiting for his reply.

Kylo kneeled on the bed, hovering over you, encasing your body under his as he laid another chaste kiss to your lips, “More than anything.”

You raised your knees and opened yourself up to him. Mind, body, soul. Everything. Your fingers brushed past the elastic in his waistband and pulled the cloth down to reveal his large cock at your core. Grasping his hardened length he let out a breathy gasp and you could see between you both how red his cock was, desperately begging for attention.

“Fuck me,” you whined as you stroked him, “Please Kylo, I want you.”

“I want you too,” he said as he began to thrust into your hand, enjoying how your fingers felt around him. You lifted your feet to rest on his hips as you led his length to your core. He began to kiss all around your face as you let him sink into you, splitting you wide open.

He let out a quiet, “Oh fuck,” as he reached his hilt, burying himself so far into you. His large fingers came up and got tangled in your hair as he began slow ministrations of pulling almost all the way out before thrusting deep into you and beginning that cycle of pure toture and pleasure in one.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your neck, eyeing your expressions how your face controrts with each thrust he makes.

“Don’t stop, Kylo, please, don’t stop,” you cried. Your heart opened at his words but you forced those feelings away, unsure of what his intentions are.

Kylo sat up and kneeled once again, taking this moment to watch as his cock disappeared in your pussy. Watching how when he pulls back, his cock is glistening with physical evidence of your arousal. He became mesmerised at how your tits bounced and your face lit up with the same waves of absolute pleasure he felt. He didn’t want any of this to stop.

From the foot of the bed, a phone began to ring and Kylo let out a groan. He ignored it and continued his slow thrusts, fucking you nice and deeply. His phone stopped ringing for the briefest moment then rang again. “Fuck,” he growled. He wasn’t going to stop, no way was he going to stop one of the nicest nights of his life. The phone stopped and resumed ringing one more time, whatever it was seemed to be urgent.

He eyed you and you nodded your head, letting him leave you to get it. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he groaned.

“What is it, Kylo?”

“Bazine.”

Without giving it a second thought, you demanded, “Answer it.”

He turned and cocked his face into a smirk and placed the phone against his ear, “What do you want, Bazine.” He stepped forward back to the bed, you could now begin to hear her slurred whines and cries on the line, screaming at him.”

You reached for his phone and put it on speaker, tossing it to the side of you as you guided Kylo back to where you were before she interrupted.

“Where are you Kylo, how could you embarrass me like that,” Bazine cried.

“You embarrassed yourself, as for where I am, well,” he kissed you. “I’m currently inside one of the most beautiful women I have ever met in my life, fucking her nice pussy,” he groaned as you tightened around him at his compliment, “and wanting you to fuck off so we can keep going.”

Bazine let out a harsh gasp, appalled at what he was saying, “You- you’re lying.”

“Say hello,” he motioned to you.

After a moment, you cleared your voice, “I would greatly appreciate it if you’d leave Kylo alone for the night, he is a bit busy fucking me.”

“Stop fucking lying,” she yelled.

Kylo brushed his hair back as she penetrated you, “Fine, if you don’t want to believe it then listen to us fuck and deal with it. Leave me alone, Bazine.”

He began to fuck you once more, letting loose all the lewd noises your pussy could make from how sweetly he rocked into you, deeply caressing each part of you.

You arched your back and he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked bruises on the skin there. Wanting to leave a small part of him on you just as you left scratches on his back. Wonderful scars for a wonderful woman, he thought.

“Oh, Kylo, just like that, don’t stop,” you cried, Bazine already leaving your mind. Kylo reached over to hang up the phone and he threw it against the wall, not giving a shit if it broke. Right now all that mattered was you.

You reached up for him and placed a gentle hand at the base of his skull, pulling him to the side so you could be on top, not once disconnecting your bodies. Kylo gripped your ass as you began to bounce on his large cock, throwing your head back. “Fuck- Kylo!”

He tried, just as you did, to keep his composure but you felt far too good around him and he began to let out just as many moans.

He moaned your name and gripped your ass so hard you hoped there would be bruises there to keep as a temporary memory of this affair. Your neck was exposed to him and he reached a hand up to caress the skin there, sending shivers upon shivers down your spine. “You’re doing such a good job, bouncing like that on my cock,” he praised, “You look so beautiful.”

“Come here, little one,” he reached around you to hold you close to him as he laid you down on the bed. Not once letting you take a moment to think about that little nickname.

Kylo hoovered over you as you began to cry, he had you feeling so good that you couldn’t stop the hot tears that welled in your eyes, “Please, Kylo, go faster, I’m so close!” He took that command and did as you told him, pumping his cock so fast and so hard into you, it was earth shattering. Kylo reached his long slender fingers and began to violate your clit, aiding your desire.

Your back arched as you came around his cock, feeling overstimulated and well-fucked but he still kept going, chasing his own orgasm. Finally, he let out a deep guttural moan as he came inside of you as a sigh left your lips. Your pussy fluttered aftershocks around him, milking him. Kylo kissed you deeply once again, wanting to etch this memory deep into his mind, trying to remember the taste of wine on your lips. When he pulled away he brushed a piece of your hair away from your eyes and your gaze met his. You lifted one of your hands to brush his clean shaven face with the back of your hand. “I don’t want you to leave,” you admitted.

Kylo pulled out, and stepped off the bed. For a moment your heart broke into tiny pieces believing he was going to leave until he pulled the white duvet covers down and motioned you to slip underneath them. He returned to you, covering both your bodies while he reached his fingers down between your folds, pushing the evidence of both your orgasms back inside of you. He kissed your forehead and entwined your limbs together under the warm sheets, “Neither do I.”

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXI

January 5, 2278.

Fifteen minutes past midnight, we went home. After cleaning up and sharing a dinner of noodles and beer, Percy didn’t waste any time counting all the ammo she saved for emergencies, while I tended to our weapons and gear. Around three in the morning, I was ready to retire, but Percy’s still slouched over the workbench, recycling old microfusion cells as she sipped on scotch, straight from the bottle.

“Percy,” I call her attention, placing a hand at her shoulder.

“Oh!”

I must’ve interrupted her.

“What do you need, big guy?”

“I suggest that you get some rest. Long day tomorrow.”

“Mhmm. Just a few more minutes,” she replies, back still turned against me.

I was ready to get to my room, but then Percy leans her head against my chest. “Charon, what if I die from this?”

My throat tightens at the thought, and I place both hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You’re not going to. I’m here to ensure that.”

“Thanks. But let’s say I do. What will happen to you, when your contract holder dies?”

I pause. I let my hands fall to my side. My friend turns around and looks up to me, her glasses cloudy from the cold.

I’m debating myself on whether this should be her business or not. I’ve seen parts of her that shouldn’t be for my eyes. Percy had let me see her at her most vulnerable moments, while she only shows her can-do attitude to everyone else. And yet, she knows so little about me. I think I’m being unfair.

Dammit. This is what I fucking get for letting what I feel about my employers get to me, regardless whether it’s positive or not.

I shouldn’t be divulging information to my employers more than what’s necessary, but when I look at my friend before me, I feel an urge to share the parts of myself I couldn’t even confront.

“Back then, the death of whoever held it meant failure to obey the standing order to protect that person, and would result in my termination as well. But something has changed along the way. The day the bombs fell, we were ordered to hold our contracts, and wait until someone comes to claim it. They never came.”

Percy nods her head, motioning me to continue. I start to pace around, struggling to remember the details after that.

“I… I wandered aimlessly for I don’t know how long. I was dying, lost in a desert when a group of survivors found me. They found my contract, and when I came to, the conditioning kicked in. I will serve them, and will continue to do so until I fail. When I do, the order to hold my contract until someone claims it takes effect again.”

Her brows knitted together, mouth curled into a frown. There’s a sadness in her eyes. She’s pitying me again.

Not pity. I don’t need that.

“You don’t need to pity me,” I said, and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I’m not- I don’t pity you, Charon. I’m just trying to imagine what you’ve gone through, and I can’t fathom how terrible that must be.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I freeze in my tracks. Percy’s soft and warm, and she presses against my back. I can feel the tightness in my chest melting away.

“I want to understand you better,” she whispers.

I should be keeping my distance after our talk about our professional relationship in Doc Barrows’ clinic. Instead, I turn around and pull her in an embrace, pressing her face against my chest as gently as possible. I’m not a gentle person, but for this angel, I can try.

Damn, can we stay like this forever?

“Let’s get some rest,” I tell her, and let her go, dragging my feet to my quarters.

“Do you want to sleep next to me again?” Percy asks.

I felt my heart starting to race.

For someone who said that I shouldn’t act on what I feel for her, she’s giving me a lot of mixed signals. I don’t know what to do with them. What does she even want?

One day I’ll get the courage to ask her that to her face, but for now, I just shook my head.

“I wish to be alone with my thoughts,” I tell her, and she nods.

She smiles, but the slump in her shoulders tells me about her dejection.

“Okay. Offer still stands. Good night.”

I couldn’t sleep after that.

Lying on a mattress wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. Or maybe it’s because there isn’t the warm weight of another person next to me.

Fuck.

I’ve gone soft.

I heard a soft sigh through the thin walls of the house, and I was ready to get up and comfort Percy, thinking she was crying again. But I heard her keen and moan, and I lay like a rock in my spot.

Like I said, the walls are thin. This isn’t the first time I can hear her touching herself. I understand that she has her needs; the skin mags she looks out for says enough. It’s not my business.

I’d be lying if I said that the sounds she makes didn’t fuel my imagination for months.

Tossing and turning, I took a ratty blanket and pulled it over my head, intending to block the noise out, and screwed my eyes shut. I hate this feeling. I’ve never felt it before I met this woman. All this… longing.

My eyes shot open when I heard her sigh my name.

So that confirms it.

But, why me?

The previous employers that had used me for pleasure are the unsavory, depraved types. They would never look me in the eye. They’d say degrading shit. They never said my name.

Percy is not one of those. She’s the fucking “Wasteland Avenger” or “Wasteland Angel” or “Savior of the Wastes” or whatever damn epithet people want to give her. People look up to her.

For those reasons, hearing her moan my name feels forbidden.

Her invitation to sleep next to her is becoming more tempting. I know it’s not an invitation to be intimate with her, but the past few weeks have been shit. I want something to go right just for damn once.

I heard her gasp my name again and I took it as my cue.

My feet took me to her room as fast as it could. It was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight that seeped through the roof.

“Percy, you called for me?” I ask her.

I hear frantic shifting of fabric, clattering, and her PipBoy light goes off.

“Charon! I uh… um, I thought you were already asleep I- did you…”

I take cautious steps towards the bed, and sit on the edge, the rickety frame creaking under my weight.

“How much did you hear?” she asks me, near whispering.

“Everything,” I said, telling her the truth.

“Wait, all this time you’ve been hearing me- oh God.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to. The walls are thin.”

Percy rubs her face, then she squints, reaching for her glasses. She takes a long, hard look at me. Neither of us are breaking the silence; this angel is within my reach and yet she feels so distant.

Finally, she speaks up. “God, this is awkward. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

I gulped. I don’t want to.

“No,” I assert, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. My friend tears her eyes away from me and rubs the back of her neck.

“I guess there’s no point hiding it. I think you’re attractive, Charon.”

My breath hitches at my throat and it comes out as a disbelieving laugh. “Crazy smoothskin.”

Percy chuckles at my remark. 

“What now?” she asks me.

My eyes flick to her lips, to her pale throat, down to the her nipples poking from under her shirt. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to ask her to join me in acting on the dirtiest thoughts I had for her, but the rational part of my mind holds.

“How long?” I dared to ask her.

“I’m not sure. I know I felt something the first time I bumped into you in Underworld. But I haven’t really thought about it until around November. What about you? When did it start?”

“When you walked into Underworld with that stupidly tight stealth armor. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.”

Percy snorted. “Really?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself quietly too.

“What the hell did you find attractive about me?” I ask her, still in disbelief at my damn luck.

“Well… there’s just something about the way you carry yourself I guess?”

I raise a brow in response.

“Your bone structure. You look strong and steady and I like that.”

Now I’m tilting my head and smirking.

“And you’re gruff and scary and intimidating and I find it hot,” she blurts out.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So you find any tall, scary ghoul you find intimidating hot?”

“God, no. Just you. Always been you.”

The sincerity of her words is too much.

All those months of letting me act on my own accord is starting to kick in. I reach for her face, my rough, radiation-damaged fingers caressing her soft cheek, and she leans into the touch. I dared to press my thumb against her bottom lip, savoring its texture, imagining what it would feel against mine. As gently as I could, I tilt her head, pressed my cheek against her neck, and took a deep breath as her small hands flew to my shoulders, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles.

I press my mouth against her neck and she pushes me away.

“Stop. We should stop. You and I both know acting on what we feel now would screw things up,” she interrupts, somber.

I exhaled sharply, nodding and keeping my distance. “Fine. Then please stop giving me hope.”

“What?”

“This. Touching me, asking me to sleep next to you… I’m starting to think you’re leading me on.”

Percy scoffs at my accusation, crossing her arms.

“I’m not!” Percy exclaims. “I’m just saying that it isn’t a possibility now. Right now, I’m your doctor and employer. It would make our relationship unequal.”

“And I am centuries older than you,” I hissed back at her. “There are people who would consider that astoundingly unequal too.”

“Then that makes it twice as wrong! This isn’t multiplication where you take two negatives and it becomes a positive.”

“I have no idea what the hell you just said,” I snarled. “But what I know is I want you. So don’t give me hope unless you’re going to follow through. Please.”

Percy went quiet, still as a statue where she sits. With wide eyes, she gazes into mine.

“Say that again?” she demands.

“Say what again?”

“You said, ‘I want you’. You… you rarely tell me what you want.”

Oh.

“God, Charon I want you too…” Percy starts, moving to the edge of the bed to sit next to me.

“Fuck whatever the hell people say, you should know by now that I’ll defend you against all the fucking ghoul bigots in the world,” she continues, leaning her head against my bare shoulder.

“Weeks ago I would’ve agreed to this, but things have gotten too crazy. From your contract, to dad dying, to getting jumped by those Talon mercs, to the shit we’re planning for Paradise Falls, to Project fucking Purity… There's too much going on. I don’t want to compromise our objectives because of what I feel.”

“I understand.” My heart’s going to fucking burst from my chest.

“I’m not going to be upset if you don’t want to do this anymore when it’s all over. But, please, could we wait?”

I’d wait forever for her, if I can. I’ve waited two centuries for someone like her without even knowing that I needed it. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is plain lust or something more, but I need her.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to ruin what I have with you now.”

“What do we have now, Percy?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure. But I told you that I want to be your partner, right? Let’s work on that.”

Grunting in response, I slouch, resting my elbows on my knees. After a few moments, I turned to her again.

“May I still sleep next to you?”

My partner laughs softly, and moves back to her spot on the bed. Her small hand pats the mattress, on the empty space next to her.

“Of course.”

Back turned from each other, she falls asleep first. I could tell from her soft snores.

An hour later, I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things she said.

I lie facing the door out of habit. During the training I was forced to take part in, it was drilled in our heads, making us better prepared for intruders and ambushes. 

Close to sleep, I was alerted by a soft whimper coming from her.

When I turned to look at her, her brows are furrowed and her eyes are screwed shut.

“No,” she murmurs, and I listen closely. “Get away from him… Don’t hurt Charon.”

She’s having a nightmare. About me getting hurt.

Grumbling, I shifted my body so that her back was pressed to my chest, and I draped an arm around her.

“Shh. I’m here, and we’re okay,” I whisper.

Percy’s whimpers die down to sighs, and we remain like that for more than a few minutes. I felt dirty, watching her sleep, but seeing her strained face relax eases my nerves.

At some point, I fell asleep. It was a dreamless one.

The next morning, I woke up slowly, eyes adjusting to the brighter rays that came through the cracks on the roof.

A leg is draped over my hip, her face pressed against my chest, and an arm around my waist.

To my surprise, Percy is still asleep next to me. It’s a rare occurence for me to rise earlier than she does.

I look at her PipBoy in the open drawer next to us. Ten fifty two in the morning.

We were supposed to be up by nine.

My hand on her shoulder, I give her a shake. “Percy, wake up.”

My friend stirs awake, stretching her limbs. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

Percy practically jumps out of bed.

“Oh fuck! C’mon, let’s get ready.”

I went to my room. I put on the black shirt Percy gave me, the sleeves already torn away, and proceeded to put on the rest of my armor. As I was walking through the door, I saw the ushanka on the bed side table, and grabbed that too.

Time to talk to Church.

[bxllafanficc]

My dear apprentice / Anakin!Skywalker x fem!reader - chapter 3

(Anakin's pov)

"It's decided then. From today and on, (y/n) (s/n) and Anakin Skywalker will share a new journey of knowledge and understanding. They will defend each other's backs in battle and lend a shoulder to rely on in times of war, as master and padawan. May the force be with you on the way."

...

(S/n)?

Where have I heard that name before?

———————-

"What are you looking at?" Anakin grumbles at the young girl who from now on is going to be his responsibility, a huge weight on his shoulders that he didn't ask for.

" I can do that myself, you know. Unpack my stuff, I mean." (Y/n) mentions in a subtle voice.

"You took too long. Besides, no one need that much belongings as a Jedi." He replies with an exaggerated sigh at the end, which to he receives a snort from the annoying, rather... tiny girl behind him to the left.

With reluctance in her body, she has positioned herself in the back of the small room. Meanwhile I'm the one unpacking the stuff arriving at the entrance of the temple after the meeting. So here I am, unfolding some pieces of clothing that I have no idea what it's supposed to be from the absurdly large bag laying on one of the beds that will come to be her sleeping spot. At the opposite side of the room is my bed.

   I know. Do we really have to share a room? It was already rather small for one person to begin with. But apparently it's what the council decided since they considered my previously loud attempts at declining my position as her mentor to be concerning regarding the bond we'll have to create to work together.

The suddenly awkward silence thickening in the room remind me on our way to our room after the council meeting. No one spoke a word through the endless cold corridors, except for a quiet giggle from her side when the baggage got shipped off at the doorstep without anyone available to help. No man or woman could possibly carry luggage that heavy and since (y/n) was the newcomer addition to the temple, it was my duty as master to "treat her welcoming" as Obi wan worded it before we left the meeting.

Isn't she going to speak up soon? This is becoming unpleasant soon. And why wouldn't she defend her belongings in some kind of way.

I turn my head to look at the (y/n) behind me with a raised eyebrow, digging to the bottom of the package with my hands to single out all the clothes in a pile for her to put in her personal wardrobe later on as I go.

She's standing with her arms crossed loosely in front of her chest with her back slightly arched back. Brows furrowed in... is that distress? And her teeth lightly pinching the side of the bottom lip. The look on her face is overall surprising, since this is a new emotion for me to discover from her.

Is she... anxious? Or embarrassed? No, that can't be. Judging on what I've seen of her so far, she wouldn't be embarrassed of such words.

"What's up with that face you're making? Am I doing something wrong?" I ask and go back to focusing on the giant mountain of clothes. I move aside what appears to some simple looking jewelry in plain silver and gather them together and handing them to the hands of the eyes burning a cavity in my back with her stares.

"No, not really." She replies to which I'm starting to grow irritated by her vague replies.

I watch her carefully fold the jewelry in her hands like they were precious diamonds. She seems get distracted and takes a closer look on the fragile chains before placing them in a box on a shelf above her bed.

"Then what is it? And don't say nothing because I despise dry responses and dogged answers."

She takes my side by the bed and lock gaze with me, arms now folded in a defensive manner and her shin raised high.

"There's really nothing. And I choose to answer what pleases me, with or without your approval. You'll just have to get used to it."

Sigh.

Of all padawans, why an annoying one? Why not someone who actually behave in a respectful manner?

I grunt loudly and rip out a random handful of fancy fabrics, unfolding them out of curiosity for what kind of clothing taste this girl has since there had to be at least a thousand pair of everything. To my surprise the delicate fabric belonged to...undergarments! And not just any type. The provocative kind with laces all over and in every color possible, matching pairs and all that. The patterns of the undergarments all had mesmerizing patterns and smaller gems decorating the hems, along with long ribbons sewed onto as well... for whatever reason I can't figure out. I have no idea what some of the pieces are for but it doesn't take a genius to figure out the meaning behind the seductive clothing.

With a short laughter and a mischievous grin plastered onto my lips and with raised eyebrows, I hold up the undergarments and slightly wave them back and forth in a showing manner while whirling one of the lacy lingerie around my index finger mockingly.

"Packing only the most necessary stuff, are we? I didn't take you for the erotic pining kind of girl but I guess we all have our inner animal that has to be let out sometimes. But on Jedi duty? You're a naughty girl!"

I laugh as I watch (y/n) peek over my shoulder in utter confusion before seeing the lingerie wrapped in my hands. The look on her face is priceless as her eyes wide in awareness, cheeks immediately flushing red like a tomato. She stutters inconsistently and swat the undergarments out of my hands and-

=SLAM=

With a single motion, she crashes into me using the side of her hip to make me lose balance and dash me down onto the floor with a loud thud while rapidly gathering the lingerie and stuff it between the space of the mattress and the headboard of her bed.

Ow.

My butt hurts.

"T-Those aren't mine!" She stammer along with incoherent cuss words to coat her discomfort.

Her face looks like it's about to explode any second and it's a damn funny thing to witness. How the "to proud to surrender" quickly turned into a blushing mess in about seconds! The way she could go over the edge like that and lose all sense of fitting behavior for the sake of her pride even though it was too late.

"Is that so? It sure looked like it, especially since you decided it was necessary to sweep me off my feet like that. Very cute but I think you're actually supposed to make me land on the bed and not on the floor." I claim and lay back on the ground, letting my elbows rest behind my back and onto the floor to maintain an upright position.

(Y/n) clench her fist in frustration and starts flailing furiously with her free hand in quick motions as she speaks.

"The lingerie really aren't mine. My friends were the ones packing my belongings. This is just a cruel joke by their doing!" She pauses and stops flailing for a few seconds as she linger with her eyes on mine with a mildly disgusted look on her face. Instead she sighs and crosses her arms once again.

"Apparently they find you very... Appealing to the eye. Sexy, if I should word it like they do."

"And why don't you?" I ask, not in a provocative tone, but like it's the most normal thing ever.

Truth to be told, I'm not used to being called hot. Or anything about my appearance in general, for that matter. And to be honest, I don't care that much about it either. I shouldn't care about it and I don't. Especially not from this annoying gremlin. But since I'm going to be stuck with her for quite a while, I better make my time interesting and entertaining by teasing the crap out of her.

"Because you're grumpy, selfish, whiny and you've been a total jackass towards me since from the second I met you!" She exclaims with slightly raised voice.

I chuckle.

"At least I am a fine piece of ass then."

...

"And this ass is hurting from being SHOVED onto the ground."

By those words I only receive a snort, which then follows with her stomping her foot and snarling with clenched fists.

"There's nothing 'fine' about you except how easily shoved you are. And besides, I would never do that... action, with you."

Damage taken.

"I'm hurt" I yelp, gripping with one hand to my chest in a clawing motion and gasping dramatically, meanwhile sobbing into my shoulder. All this theatre act to get the satisfaction of seeing her proud smile turn into a bitter grin and her smooth skin turn into crinkles of distress.

"Don't be. Cause even if I wanted to.. wanted to push you onto the bed, the council would never approve since it's forbidden to engage in a relationship as a Jedi knight."

Forbidden... yeah, it's forbidden. Everyone's aware of that since it's a major sacrifice to make in terms of becoming a warrior of peace. A sacrifice not everyone would be able to make. So why did she decide to give up love? She doesn't seem like the type to want a life alone, nor does she seem like she's fully accepted it yet.

I exhale heavily and sit up, tucking my legs beneath me, pulling me up from the ground in an effortless motion. I then sit down onto my bed, leaned forwards, hands resting by my sides.

"Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So you might say, that we're encouraged to love."

(Y/n) carefully takes in my movements and the smirk tugging on my lips before she rolls her eyes and turn around to continue sorting out her belongings into the wardrobe.

"It's still forbidden. No matter how you define it. Go find someone else to tease because I don't find it flattering. I could hit you up with one of my friends, if you're as horny as you imply to be."

Someone else... But I don't really mean it. And even if I did want to be intimate with a person, I doubt her friends would transcend the looks of (y/n). There's no denying her attractiveness. But her rude and disrespectful behavior towards me as her master really is the opposite of arousing.

"Hm... well enough on that topic. We've wasted enough time doing nothing. The first thing to do on out schedule today is...

While tapping on a small screen attached to the wall right beside me, I look up (y/n)'s name in the register to see her training schedule.

(S/n)... Again with that name...

"Alright, the first thing of our schedule is...

grocery shopping? Wait what?

Milk, eggs... long bananas.

This can't be it. I refuse to believe that it is."

A small giggle escape (Y/n)'s lips as she waves a dismissive hand in the air, busy folding a crimson tunic and putting it into her drawer.

"Well I did hear Master Windu permit Obi wan to make up a fitting schedule for us weekly. And that you were supposed to inform him about my improvements and all that every two days to track my learning. He must've seen this as an opportunity to mess with you."

Is Obi wan in charge and why didn't I know? More importantly, why did no one tell me that I'm supposed to report my padawan's progress to him? Was I just to find out by myself or not do my job correctly because someone figured out I would just know? And even though I am the one mentoring her, Obi wan is still the one really in charge? Even after I made it clear to the council that he wouldn't be needed. That I could prove I am enough for her, as her master.

I stand up and step towards the doors, grabbing two wooden staffs used for lightsaber training. Of course the balance is way off since where the hilt is supposed to be is much lighter than the rest of the stick. But it's the closest thing to a lightsaber for training without the risk of her hurting herself or me.

With a yank I let the staff tumble through the air in a spinning motion to where (y/n) is busy folding her clothes. With ease she catches it seemingly without struggle, though with an expression like a question mark plastered above her head.

Decent reaction skills. Not bad at all. A relief to be sure.

"I refuse to go grocery shopping when we have more important work to do. Do take my advice on changing into a bit more suitable clothing for improving your movements, before we start. I'll be waiting in the training area when you're ready."

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// whew, this chapter is a lot longer than the previous ones but it was worth it for the steamy Anakin🔥💯 if you liked chapter 3 (or any of the chapters for that matter), please reblog, like or give me some feedback in the comments since the algorithm of Tumblr show the posts with the wost reblogs and notes and it's the only way for more interested to come across the story! You get happy from reading, they get happy from finding it, and I get happy from knowing that people like it and writing it! Shared happiness/hornyness is the best of it's kind, as they say. (?)

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@tomisbaeholland