#Greed: that's on me I set the bar too low

[clonerightsagenda]

While I am girlposting (waiting for my hair to dry) a while back I saw art for an AU where Lan Fan got possessed by Greed instead and I had the following thoughts in rough sequence:

That's one way to get your arm back.

Lan Fan lesbian awakening???

FMA can finally ascend to wizards versus lesbians status, specifically the "ah fuck there's a guy in my head" subcategory.

It would go so poorly for everyone. He would call her a brainwashed lapdog. She would call him a selfish monster. He would say her boss seems pretty shitty if he can't keep his possessions from getting maimed. She would suplex them both into the sewer. I would watch it.

[smoft-demons]

What if pacts gave you spells

I’ve had another idea!!

Demons in this setting are pretty fuckin magic. MC as well, has some funny magic going on in the late game iirc. What if the magic started showing up sooner, specifically because of the pacts?? What if the avatars have specific themed abilities and you get powered down versions of those powers through the pact? Ive been having Ideas about it!!

In pact order:

_______

Mammon is the avatar of greed. Money and stuff is his thing. So I think his pact, at a low level, should give you a heat metal spell. I imagine HE has a summon-molten-metal ability that he can use in combat, because that’d be awesome. It’d be a real no holds barred type of move, because like,, being burned to death in molten metal is a REAL brutal way to go. He’s a demon tho. I think it would make some sense for him to be able to do it.

Gravity magic also makes sense for Mammon. Black holes be greedy. The vibe seems right. The dunamancy spell Ravenous Void is pretty much what I’m thinking.

Mammon’s really fast too. So maybe he can give you haste, longstrider, misty step… maybe blink.

Another thing in Mammon’s wheelhouse is gambling. Luck, stacking chances in your favour and all that. So let’s have him give you something like silvery barbs too. Something that lets you skew chance in your favour when you need to.

I’d say the list of spells you get from him goes like: heat metal and longstrider at first. Then you get stronger after season 1, and you get misty step, something along the lines of silvery barbs, and haste (to make others faster I think is a higher level thing than making yourself faster). When you’re MUCH stronger, you get ravenous void. Maybe you get a weaker version earlier.

No matter what tho, no one’s version of that black hole spell is stronger than Mammon’s.

_______

Then you pact with Leviathan. He’s a sea serpent, and he’s the grand admiral of hell’s navy. I’d imagine he’s crazy good with navigation and has a sea monster form, on top of the other abilities he canonically has (summoning Lotan, making floods, etc)

I’d say Levi’s pact gives you: create water, find familiar (because Lotan), breathing underwater and some magical ability that helps you not get lost. At a higher level, you get to summon a powerful water elemental. Maybe even a wildshape-esque ability that is specifically for turning into a sea serpent.

I would also say it’s Levi’s pact that gives you darkvision. You really need it if you’re going in deep water. Also, if ANYONE of these seven can give you the classic warlock spell Eldritch blast, it’d be Levi. It’s not very high level, you can have it early on.

_______

Beel’s gluttony, and honestly black holes fit him too. But I think that’s such an absurdly OP thing that it HAS to go to Mammon.

Beel is also a tank. He’s a protector. He’s real strong and resilient and he’s the type to purposely take damage in order to save someone he loves from having to. In the game he makes the pact with the implication that he wants you to have it so he can protect you next time. So I think he wouldn’t WANT to encourage his human to do the same tank thing as him, but still I think his pact would help you do that. It would just make you stronger and more durable I think.

That bit is less a spell and more an ability score increase. Raises your strength and constitution.

Of the actual spells tho, there’s gotta be something abjuration. Some magic shield spell kind of thing. Also, obviously some way to create food. Maybe when you’re stronger you get hero’s feast. Some way to summon a swarm of locusts is on theme for Beel. Also, his telepathic connection with Belphie makes me think of message.

I think Beel wants you to have feather fall. I think that might be one of his first priorities.

So his list would go: feather fall, some magic shield, message, and the constitution increase. Then at a higher level, the strength increase, summon locusts, and create/summon food. Even higher, hero’s feast or something like it…

The summoning food spells is not really a thing I think Beel can do/an ability he can share through the pact, but I think he deserves to be able to give you that. He would just like to be able to do that. Why not let him.

_______

Next pact is Asmo. The most obvious thing for him is a charisma buff.

Then in terms of spells, suggestion makes a lot of sense. So does friends, disguise self, vicious mockery, and minor illusion. Later on, mass suggestion and crown of madness.

He’s not usually the very aggressive sort, though of course I don’t put violence past him at all. Bloodlust is still lust, after all. Passion is kinda his whole domain. No, Asmo is VERY capable of violence I’m sure, he just doesn’t indulge in it often because he likes his pristine image and others’ tendencies to underestimate him far more.

With that in mind, maybe some kind of slow acting necromantic curse makes sense for the offensive move he’d give you. Some way to magically give someone a dose of venom in their veins just by touching them.

Canonically in the game Asmo basically uses dominate beast (on Henry 1.0 in the catacombs under the demon king’s castle) but I can’t help but associate that more with Lucifer (because Cerberus) so I kind of want to give it to him instead… but Asmo literally DID it so…

I think Asmo’s list goes: suggestion, vicious mockery, friends, disguise self. Then the charisma increase, casting illusions (minor or otherwise), and crown of madness. Then mass suggestion, dominate beast, and the venom spell. That seems right.

_______

Then it’s Satan’s turn.

Ok so the most obvious thing for him as the avatar of wrath is giving you a whole ass level in barbarian. The rage ability. And like,, that works, but like… doesn’t super match his personality. Controlling his wrath is more what he seems to care about.

If the spells he can give you are chosen by him, then I think you’d get comprehend languages, speak with animals, legend lore, that kind of thing.

But if it’s not his choice, then the ability to rage. In terms of spells, stuff like blight, finger of death, fireball, meteor swarm, disintegrate. Dramatically destructive kind of thing.

I’m gonna say it’s probably somewhere in between. You don’t get rage or disintegrate from him, nor all the best of the curious nerd spells. But you DO get: prestidigitation (can start fires OR quickly clean messes, up to you, be smart and crafty to get the most out of it), comprehend languages, firebolt. Later, you get fireball (upgrade for firebolt!) blight, and lets say something electric. Like, being able to electrocute someone by grabbing them.

_______

Now for Belphie!

I can’t help but think of him less in D&D terms and more like,, psychic type Pokémon. That just seems like the right vibe for him.

I wanna say you’d get two necromancy spells after the whole lesson 16 thing—specifically, toll the dead and chill touch. The vibes of toll the dead just seem fitting for some reason, and come ON, chill touch couldn’t possibly be more perfect! It makes a spectral, skeletal hand that clings to your target (around their neck maybe?) to (and I quote!) “assail it with the chill of the grave” which deals necrotic damage and delays healing. It’s PERFECT, okay, except for… it doesn’t make any sense to get those from the pact with Belphie. They have nothing to do with HIM, and everything to do with what he did to you.

Maybe you can get it from the weird resurrection thing that happens instead. All kinds of weird shit can happen when timelines and your life get all fucky like that, I guess. You met a ghost and got shoved back to life and then time got weird, I’m sure at that point anything can happen.

Actually FROM Belphie, the obvious spell you’d get is sleep. Put some bastard to sleep, make them unconscious, that’s his main thing.

I think the list goes: sleep. Then later, with more power, you get confusion (like the Pokémon move)and phantasmal force (the one that projects an illusion only visible to the target, that is able to deal damage to them. Many very creative applications of this spell are possible). At the highest possible level, power word kill. The quickest and laziest possible way to do a murder, as long as you use it right.

_______

Finally, Lucifer.

Big strong powerful Morningstar! Proud bastard that everyone can’t help but listen to.

So OBVIOUSLY you get dominate person from him! (yes, all seven of them have the ability to force a non-MC human to obey them magically but shhh. Lets say only Lucifer can GIVE that ability to a human.)

I think he’d be the one who can give you classic demonic abilities like fire resistance and hellish rebuke. I can’t imagine Lucifer not having some disintegrate-like ability, as the third most powerful demon in the realm.

He can’t give you a whole ass pair of wings, he can’t change the structure of your body, but I think maybe he can give you the fly spell. Or even just something like a double jump and a fully controlled fall. I think that suits him.

Yknow what else suits him? Meteor swarm. Super powerful, dramatically destructive, only the strongest can cast it… flaming destruction falling from the sky… Fall imagery weaponized into an absurdly high damage spell. Seems like Lucifer!

So let’s say his spell list for you is: hellish rebuke and fire resistance (not a spell, but still). Then, dominate person, the flight-adjacent spell, and disintegrate. Then finally, meteor swarm. That seems right.

_______

[seat-safety-switch]

You can complain about most municipal services. Everyone knows I do, from my tragically short run as the newspaper's op-ed editor, to my aborted runs for mayor, governor, and chancellor of the modern art museum. That's not to mention when I visit the local bars to eat free peanuts and watch hockey, bitching loudly about local politics the entire time without buying anything. You can't be down on the firefighters, though.

As someone who has a lot of direct and indirect experience dealing with flames, I know that I can rely on the firefighters even when my own honed skills and equipment fail me. For instance, their trucks often are able to summon a vast quantity of water, much more than my squirt bottle full of rainfall can muster. They're always there when I screw up.

Recently, though, the primitive greed-heads in government have decided not to give them a raise, because they want to "keep taxes low." Here's a free bar rant for you: taxes are imaginary. Money is made up. We should be giving much more of it to the people who run into burning buildings. People like Bob Peplinski, the brave soldier of hot-gases removal who risked his life to deal with that cracked brake line I knew was routed a little bit too close to that hot exhaust last Tuesday on my way to work. He saved most of the car! Didn't even ask for a tip, which is more than I can say for the pizza boy who ran over the neighbour's mailbox.

Bob should be given as much money as he needs. He should have a big-assed pension, so that he has ample retirement time to sit on the beach and miss the adrenaline rush of putting out a tire fire that I probably also started. It's time to do the right thing, and raise taxes on the selfish megacorporations like General Motors, who can't even make a car that goes sixty-five years of deferred maintenance without bursting into flames just because I ran it out of oil and somehow shot a valve all the way through the exhaust piping, out the hole in the muffler, and into the fuel tank.

I'm doing my own part keeping these folks on their toes. They'd probably get bored without me, and start setting fire to houses or something instead. It takes a village, people.

[sunnasweet]

Anna and The Auction 2

Anna is stolen by space pirates and put up for auction.

Warnings: noncon, voyeurism, sybian, no sex

F!human

Part 1

“Good job little toy.” He murmurs, “Now you are prepared for auction.”

I dangle from my padded cuffs, completely exhausted from what was possibly the best orgasm of my life given to me by a human-trafficking lizard alien.

He unhooks my cuffs from the frame and latches them together, taking me into his arms. He cradles me and my head lolls back. I can do little more than keep my eyes open. I raise my wrists and inspect the cuffs, around my wrists are padding to protect my flesh but the rest of the binding is made of metal.

I’m not getting out of these.

The alien sets me down on a set and I fail to choke back a whimper, he kneels before me and takes the cuffs off my ankles.

“Stay here,” he says, patting my calf. “And…” he pulls–my eyes widen–a ball gag, out of his pocket. “Quiet.” I struggle against him and he roughly opens my mouth and shoves the gag in, then ties it around the back of my head. I grunt in dismay.

I lift my hands and give him the middle finger.

He laughs while walking away and I hear the door lock.

~

I stand naked and oiled up from my earlier “preparation” if you can call it that, in line.

I’m at the back, the last to go on for sale and I feel a lot like a show pony. If walking through the bazaar of Neo Nebula while everyone was eye-fucking me wasn’t enough, now I’m about to be paraded on stage. 

At least, that’s what I thought was happening. But when I get there, two hands hold me down by the shoulders and force me to sit on a saddle-shaped device. 

They chain my cuffs to a bar on the back so I’m forced to arch my body. My toes just barely touch the floor and my tits face the ceiling. Great. I glare at the crowd—filled with aliens of all different kinds.

“Alright, let’s start with the bidding shall we?” The alien who I presume is the auctioneer says. I scowl at the bidders as best I can with a ball gag in my mouth. Some of them eye me wearily while others are unbothered or even intrigued. I look back to the space pirates that captured me and see the greed in their eyes. The one who “prepared” me seems to think he’s going to get a lot of money for me.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

“1000!” calls the auctioneer and my face must go from a scowl to downright nasty because the two aliens in the front back up a pace.

There’s a long pause, maybe because I’m not quivering and cowering in fear like the other girls or sobbing my eyes out but the auctioneer looks perturbed and says.

“Come on now folks, she’s hale and fertile.” 

I cringe at the word fertile. The last thing I want is to be somebody’s breeding girl. The auctioneer turns a dial on the podium and I flinch as something buzzes for a second then stops. 

The fuck?

I shift uncomfortably on the mount but that just makes things worse with my oil-slicked pussy spread open on it. It feels like slippery rubber and that…feels good, unfortunately.

But I won’t be taken advantage of again.

I see a tentative hand go up, then two, then three.

“1200!” The buzzing happens again, this time for a second longer and I squeak, the vibration hits directly at my clit from my spread pussy lips. 

The auctioneer keeps calling higher numbers as more aliens bid and I watch horrified as he keeps turning a dial that seems to be controlling the vibrations on my mount. My pussy twitches and I shift uncomfortably.

“1500!” Bzt.

“1600!!” Bzt bzt.

“1700!!!” bzt bzt bzzzzt.

My belly quivers and my thighs shake. I continue to squirm and whine as the bids get higher and higher. I take a deep breath and stay still.

The vibrations draw out longer and longer until it’s a steady stream of low vibration and it’s hard not to respond the way one might when they’re tied to a vibrating machine. I ignore the instinct to rock my hips. It’s not too bad, it just tickles a bit. Now that the shock has worn off. 

I think it’s going to stop at this low tempo until someone calls out “3000!” and the auctioneer turns the dial two ticks, causing it to jump in speed. My eyes widen and I struggle, my tits jiggling.

Stop it, I want to yell but all that comes out is a strained moan.

I can’t escape this. No matter how I move, the vibration is always directed at my clit. My ass vibrates and I want to scream. 

I refuse to be humiliated again like this.

My eyes flick to my sellers and widen further when I see that all three of them are stroking their cocks. I whimper. What the fuck? These creeps. It’s now that I realize I’m probably not being sold to clean houses.

All three aliens stroke their dicks. Plural. As in, they each have two dicks. 

I look at my sellers with wide eyes, look at their long dual phalluses.

They all jerk off like a regular human man except using both hands and I look to the auctioneer as if he’s going to stop them but he just keeps calling numbers and spinning the dial when the bidding gets higher.

“5000!”

“Ahgn!” I jolt when the vibration intensifies, I’m starting to squirm now, rocking back and forth. I try to lift myself off the vibrating machine by my toes but because I’m chained onto it, it does no good.

“10,000!”

Bzzzzzzzt.

My head falls back as the vibration reaches an all-time high, I moan, against my will. I’m staring at my three sellers who continue to jerk off as they watch me.

Without meaning to I start to roll my hips and it feels so good I could cry. I don’t want to do it, but my mind and body aren’t in agreement. Hell, my mind isn’t even in agreement with my mind.

I—creator help me—think about the middle lizardman, the one who oiled me up, coming on stage and massaging my tits the way he did just a few hours ago. I think about riding his cocks, one in my ass and the other in my cunt and maybe the way I’m eye fucking him is obvious because he starts to thrusts his hips forward as he strokes his cock and I start to clench on nothing.

“30,000!”

No.

Don’t.

I can’t help it.

I hump the machine furiously, squeezing my eyes shut and pretending like I’m not on stage being watched by dozens of people hoping to buy me as their (most likely) sex slave. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back home.

But this is the hand I’ve been dealt and creator it feels amazing.

I always thought of myself as strong but here on stage, I feel like I’m losing myself.

I writhe against the machine, tilting my pelvis downward so the vibration hits harder on my clit. I choke at the feeling of it. My abdomen seizes and there’s a heat building in my belly.

“50,000! Going once!”

It rises

“Going twice!”

And rises.

“Three times!”

I scream against the ball gag, thrashing against the vibrating saddle as my orgasm overtakes me, my pussy clenches tightly and I stay frozen for what feels like forever as I cum.

“Sold!”

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[ambiguouspuzuma]

Regicide, regicisions

Pip didn't want to be queen. She'd started this war to put an end to the old king - his insatiable greed, the raiding of their villages, the brutalising of his own subjects - not because she saw herself in his place. She didn't know the first thing about ruling. It was a low bar to follow, but she couldn't see herself upon the throne.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of people who agreed.

"That's the problem with regicide," Hari told her, a whole uprising too late. "It has a way of getting in the water, spreading around, like a particularly pervasive disease. Once you show the people that a monarch can bleed, they're rarely content with the one performance - and it's an unwise leader who sets themselves up for the encore."

It was a poisoned chalice, he explained. If the leader of the rebellion installed themselves upon the throne, they'd have to contend with a legion of assassins from all angles. Revenge, from the side who'd been displaced. Ambition, from those who thought it should have been them, now that the hard work of civil war was out of the way. Or other interested parties, those with some influence, who'd learnt that they could roll the dice if the new ruler didn't do exactly what they want.

"Too much change, or not enough - there'll be pitchforks either way."

Pip sighed. It was the morning after they'd broken the siege, and she hadn't slept enough for these decisions. But the rest of the castle would be waking soon, and so too the realm. When news of the battle filtered out, they'd want to know who ruled them. Hari had woken her for good reason, and taken her to the throne room, where the old king's body still lay on the floor. She'd done the regicide herself, and it was odd to see her hilt protruding from his chest.

"So we're in agreement." She eyed the throne. It didn't seem tempting. All she wanted right now was her bed. "I won't be queen. Let somebody else do it."

"It's not that easy, sadly," Hari said. At least he really did look sad about it. "Even those who swerve the crown are often doomed, I'm sorry to say."

"Be sorry you didn't tell me before I stuck a dagger in his heart."

"An empty throne will leave a vacuum - and if you don't fill it, here and now, there'll be plenty of other volunteers."

"Perfect. They're welcome to it." Pip went to reclaim her dagger. It gave her something to do, to stave off this feeling of impotence. "I don't want any of that. That's not what this was all about."

"You'll say that now, and they might even believe you. But when they find their own rule inevitably threatened, for any of the reasons I've mentioned, they'll look to you as the cause: friendly or not, they'll see you as a natural point for dissent to rally around, the hero of that glorious revolution, the creator of the potential they'd turned into disappointment."

"Me? A rebel?" She wiped the blade on the king's scarlet robes. It had been neat work, as her deaths always were; it was an odd thing to take pride in, but she'd never been one of the hack-and-slash types. She'd killed the guy, but there was no sense being violent about it. "I wonder what could have given them that idea."

"Well, that's part of the problem. You'll always be a replacement in waiting - a perpetual challenger to the throne. It doesn't help that you've already emptied it once. That kind of thing leaves a reputation. So, as well as vengeful loyalists and those behind you in the queue, the monarch you crown could soon come for you head."

"Perfect." Pip paused, as if seeing Hari for the first time. He'd been with her from the start, a dedicated servant of the cause, right up to that final stroke the night before. They'd been standing as they did now, facing the throne - him just behind her, as always, finishing off the king's guards as she did for the king. Even this morning, he'd chosen to wake her, to warn her, rather than let her sleepwalk into trouble. "I can trust you, right?"

"I don't want it!" Hari knew exactly what she'd meant. They'd been together long enough for that. "Have you not been listening? Poisoned chalice. It's not something you'd give to your friends."

"But not something you'd trust to your enemies. Got it." Pip looked down at the dead king, the only enemy she'd had before. She hadn't realised that striking him down would raise a dozen in his place. "How many saw him die?"

Hari took a little longer to understand that one, but then let out a little laugh of disbelief. "You want me to add some strings?"

"Not literally, but... we can say we hashed it out, came up with a compromise. We just need a figurehead, right? Then we can come up with a council of advisors, with us as the go between..."

"It sounds incredibly risky."

"Weren't you just telling me that the alternative was certain death? That I might as well have been martyred in the process?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." It was Hari's turn to sigh. Pip felt tired having been woken, but now she wondered if he'd slept at all. "We don't have a lot of time. But sure, let's give it a try."

[robin-fox-writes]

The little Vampire waits all day

Constantine sipped on his third glass of Whiskey, listening to the low jazz that played out through the bar. He watched as the holograms of waiters and waitresses popped up and glitched away, moving around as they took the orders of the costumers.  

He had arrived in Veckana not too long ago. A few hours actually, just in time for the sun to completely set.

The moon was high now, just above the bar’s roof and shining it’s dim light down on everyone. Constantine called over the bar tender, asking for yet another drink to hopefully ease his anxiety and growing annoyance.  

But why was he so anxious?  

“Excuse me, are you waiting for somebody?” A young woman had come over to him, a look of worry on her face. Constantine could not get a good look of her, but the shiny pendant on her chest told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re from the palace aren’t you?”  

Maybe this trip all the way out here was really worth it after all.  

The woman blinked, her wings flapping anxiously. “I don’t see what that has to do with my question sir. I asked if you’re waiting for somebody.”  

Constantine grunted, watching the bar tender as he finished making the drink. “What if I am? That is none of your concern M’lady. But I would like an answer to my question immediately.”

Constantine was a patient man, but tonight he was not patient. He was nervous, anxious, and annoyed. He clicked his tongue, clearly the alcohol was not helping in the slightest.  

The woman shifted in her spot, getting quite annoyed herself. “Yes, I am from the palace.” She narrowed her eyes, “Do you have any business with the king?”  

“No. I don’t as of now.” Constantine nodded his head towards the bar tender and took a sip of the brandy, cringing slightly from taste. “As for your question, I am waiting for someone. But looks like they’ll be a lot later than I would like”

Constantine is a patient man, but what he didn’t like was having his patience tested in different ways. The tall man stared at the woman for awhile, examine what he could from the dim lights.  

He smirked slightly, motioning to the stool next to him. “Come, sit with me. You seem anxious, I would like to get to know you better.”  

The woman glanced at the drink in his hand and then at the stool. She frowned, straightening her back and brushing off imaginary from her dress. “I shouldn’t overdo my stay sir. The princess wouldn’t appreciate if I stayed here too long.”

The smirk fell from Constantine’s face. A princess? He had never heard of there being a princess. “Are you the handmaiden for this…princess?”  

“Yes. But I really must go sir.” The woman bowed and hastily made her way towards the door of the bar.

Constantine went to grab a hold of her arm, but she was too quick as she made her retreat. He sighed in frustration and slumped back down in his chair, once again all alone.  

A princess huh? A princess he wouldn’t hesitate to corrupt if needed. And one he would have to add to his list of casualties.   But that’s fine. He’ll just make this a bit more fun than the others Delete Created with Sketch.

 Constantine walked around his living room for a while, the sound of the night owls and his grandfather clock being the only sounds that filled the space.

Why am I even nervous? I shouldn’t be nervous, I conquered nations before this. Why am I nervous?

He scoffed, dragging the broom across the ground and throwing it into the corner. He’s conquered nations, destroyed monarchies, made the countries fear his dominion. So why was he nervous? He had everything together, each plan meticulously thought out, no holes in them, no nothing.  

So why are you nervous.

He had help of course, help from the voice in his head. The voice that called itself Greed, the thing that guided him till now. And would guide to more victories. But he was starting to doubt. Doubting the legitimacy of the voice, doubting if he could even pull this off, and doubting if it was even worth it.  

So many innocent lives were lost because of his actions- no, its actions through him. If only he was just happy with what he had before this…

Constantine clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I need to make a call.” He grunted, pausing his pacing to go over to his fridge for another bottle of whiskey.  

What was he thinking? Of course he can do this. Constantine for gods sake! If he does this, he gets more power. More power means more money. And who doesn’t want more of anything?

He passed by one of the desks and pressed a hidden button, a hologram of a woman popping up.  

“Good morning, Constantine.”

The tall man grunted as he took a swing from the bottle. “Morning, Zen.” The woman huffed, a look of disgust appearing on her face.

“Constantine. Did you not sleep for the past few days? You usually have the dignity to pour that horrid liquid in a cup. Did someone finally break your pride?”

Constantine shot a glare at her and took another swing, stumbling over to one of the seats. “No, I’m quite fine actually. I’ve just been stressed lately.” He slumped into a chair, the bottle hanging loosely in his hand. He unbuttoned his shirt, letting his heated body to get some air.

“So, someone did wound your pride. How excited.”

Constantine didn’t reply but simply took small sips of whiskey. “Zen, can you tell me who the royal family of Veckana is? I want to make sure I know who I’m going up against.”

Zen spoke up after a while, pictures of the Mengeshas appearing, one of them being blank. “The monarchs of the Veckana tribe are Emperor Olayemi and his wife Ifetundun.” Constantine only nods, edging her to continue. “They have two kids, a son, and a daughter. Sadly, not much is known about the daughter. Seems like little miss has a hatred for parties and the spotlight.”

“Will they be at the gala?” 

Zen nods, “Yes they will be. And lucky for you, the daughter will be there as well. Her first appearance in a long time.” Zen furrowed her brows, narrowing her eyes. “Do you even have any idea of what you’re going to do?”

Constantine took another swing of the bottle, finishing the whiskey. “Of course. I’ll poison the emperor, get the bigger obstacle out of the way.”  

“And what about the brother?”  

“I’ll kill if he poses a threat. But we will have to wait and see on that.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “And I’ll have to see what fun I can have with the princess before I dispose of her.”  

Zen nods her head once again, a small frown forming. “What are you thinking about Constantine?”  

Constantine leaned against the desk, his grin growing wider. More. He wants more, he needs more. After all, more is better.

And damn it all if he doesn’t succeed in getting what he wanted.

[redvelvetnat]

flung out of space

demon!nat x angel!reader

summary ➞ you had heard the stories for years, natasha was the worst of the worst when it came to demons. but no one warned you about how soft her lips would be. word count: 2.4k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, peer pressure (kinda - nat is a demon, what do you expect?), smut, innocence/corruption kink, fingering, dirty talk, possessiveness (??), overuse of the name ‘angel’ (natasha’s kinda obsessed with it), humiliation kink

a/n ➞ this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source

“The worst demons of all,” your mother used to tell you, “have green eyes; the color of jealousy and greed. They’re made to look so beautiful that they trick young women like you.”

That’s funny, looking back on it now.

Especially, as Natasha blinks at you over the mouth of her beer bottle with the aforementioned eye color flashing against the fiery red of her hair. Even under the dim bar lighting, she looks ridiculously attractive and it nearly makes you sick to your stomach.

Her lips are curled into a toothless smirk as she thrusts her bottle towards you, “Come on, try it.” She prompts, tilting the neck of the bottle towards your hesitant face, “It’s not that bad.”

You want to scoff as your voice drops to a huff, “Nothing is ever ‘that bad’ to you.” She laughs at this, it’s bubbly and soft and almost makes you forget where you are and what she’s trying to get you to do.

“I don’t know, Tasha.” Your voice softens but you don’t miss the way her eyebrow twitches at the nickname, or when her smirk stretches out into a smile.

She thinks for a moment before she’s sliding out of her side of the booth and into yours with the drink still clutched in her fist.

“Here,” she takes a quick swig for herself before she’s lifting the bottle to you. One hand wraps delicately around your jaw to part your lips, the other guides the bottle to your newly open mouth.

Your eyes flash to her with hesitation glistening in them before landing back on the bottle as you carefully wrap your lips around it. She watches intently, hand never leaving the edges of your jaw and you invite the beer into your mouth and down your throat.

She sighs, almost mockingly, and her voice comes out as a low whisper against your ear, “Almost makes me wish I was the bottle.” It takes everything for you not to choke at her comment, and still you fail as your head cranes forward in surprise, beer dribbling down your chin and into a small puddle on your lap.

She laughs again, it’s louder and deeper, and for the hundredth time you try to figure out if she’s laughing with you or at you - you settle on the latter considering it’s hard for you to breath around the liquid bubbling in your throat, let alone laugh.

The bottle clinks against the table as she sets it down, reaching for a napkin to pat against the wet spot on your knee.

The thumb on her free hand pushes forward and swipes the remaining beer off your chin before she’s pulling it between her lips and sucking it clean. She hums around her own finger, the sound almost swallowed by the music playing from the karaoke machine against the far wall and the man who has absolutely no business singing into the microphone the way he is.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, huh angel?” You’re thrown off by the name - nickname? title?, you’re not too sure what manner she’s using it in and not entirely sure you want to know.

You shrug, “Wasn’t terrible.” The words rumble under your breath, you’re scared to speak too loud in case your voice fails you the same way it usually does around her.

Natasha suddenly begins to stand and you watch her with curiosity. When she’s planted on her feet, her hand comes down and extends in invitation towards you. Your head leans into a tilt, a silent question as to what she’s doing and she simply motions to the stain on your dress, “Come on, let me help you clean up.”

You take her hand and allow her to lead you through the crowd. The bodies you struggle to dodge are sweaty and plentiful as your grip on her hand tightens and she glances back to check on you.

You’re so caught up in watching her that the bathroom comes much sooner than you had expected and you’re stumbling against her back before you have time to catch yourself. “Sorry.” The blush that heats your cheeks makes her smile, you had always been so easy to fluster. She pulls the door open before stepping aside to allow you entry.

The bathroom introduces the first quiet moment in a long while, quiet enough for you to hear the distinct click of the lock turning and suddenly your heart is drumming in your chest as the two of you are isolated in the bathroom.

She moves slowly, almost as if she’s afraid to startle you, and wets a paper towel before taking it to the stain on your clothes. You’re quiet, trying to decipher between the sound of the music outside the door and the rapid pulse rushing in your ears.

She glances up at you expectantly and you suddenly realize her mouth had been moving. “I’m sorry, say that again.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, an action that draws her attention as her eyes flicker down then up again.

“I said ‘are you tired of coming here with me yet?’.”

Should you lie? Tell her you hate coming here, in the same way that you hate how she has so much power over you and hate the soft smell of her shampoo that lingers around you as she’s leaned down to attend to your mishap.

Or maybe you should tell her the truth. That the biggest joy you’ve had in the last couple centuries has been coming here with her every other Friday night - this shitty bar in the middle of New York City that smells worse than the drunken patrons look by the end of the night.

Maybe you’ll tell her that it beats being home and having to listen to your mother preach about how terrible demons are; all the while you’re daydreaming about what it would be like to get lost in the green of Natasha’s eyes just moments before you kiss her like you’d been wanting to do for years.

You’re not sure in what way she takes your silence but she doesn’t say anything else as she moves to discard the paper towel in the trash.

When she moves back towards you, she’s empty handed but her eyes flash with a strong determination that you’ve never seen from her before. Her intent is unclear to you until she moves close enough and brushes her nose against yours.

The two of you idle there, breathing from the space between your parted mouths as your eyes search each other for answers to the same question. Your hands itch to reach out, to pull her into you or grab a hold of her jacket.

From her there is no hesitation, no questioning or second-guessing, as she pushes impossibly closer and presses her lips to yours.

Whatever gasp tumbles from your mouth is swallowed by her’s as she finally settles her hands against your waist.

This kiss is soft and gentle, completely unlike what you thought it would be like to kiss a demon. Suddenly all the stories you had heard of how ruthless they could be - cunning, manipulative - they’re all melting away as Natasha bathes you in the warmest feeling.

You know you should be thinking a million things right now. About how disappointed your mother would be and the disapproval you’d be receiving from your friends. But the only thing in your head right now is Natasha.

Natasha. Natasha. Natasha.

Your hands work with a mind of their own as they tangle in the locks of hair at the back of her head. And they stay buried there when she parts from your mouth, chuckling at the whine that escapes your throat and follows her away.

Her eyes are brighter now as one hand comes up to cup the side of your face, “Oh, angel.” Her voice shakes uncharacteristically, dripping with something that borderlines nervousness and maybe excitement. “My very own angel to ruin.”

It’s the possessiveness in her tone that forces a shiver down your spine and encourages the heat that’s already pooling between your legs.

You’re scared that if you speak you’ll only embarrass yourself, so instead you surge forward and kiss her again. This time is different, it’s needy and rushed and fueled by whatever fire is bubbling in Natasha’s chest.

You try hard to stifle a moan and she chuckles as if she can read your mind, “Relax, dove. ‘Wanna hear those pretty sounds.” She finishes her sentence by attaching her lips to your throat; nipping and sucking relentlessly at the gentle flesh.

Somewhere in between unfastening the button on your pants and discarding them onto the floor, she’s lifting you onto the sink as her hands burn against the skin of your thighs.

“Please.” You’re defenseless as the word wraps itself around your tongue and you can feel that Natasha is already grinning against you without having to look at her.

As her fingers press against your clit through the fabric of your underwear you want to scream at her, oh please, please, just fuck me, touch me, anything, natasha please.

And your silent prayers - you hate to call them that - are answered when she pushes your underwear aside and groans at the slick already coating your thighs.

Her eyes meet yours, pupils blown and her eager voice is a stark contrast to the gentle way her finger is pressing between your thighs as she says “Gonna make you my good girl, is that what you want?”

There’s no time to answer before she’s indulging her own desires and pushing her finger inside you at a pace that forces a long and drawn-out gasp from your throat.

She’s slow with the pumping of her finger, at first, working you up and watching the way your face contorts as your head falls against the mirror behind you. She’s whispering something along the lines of gonna ruin you so good, stretch you out for me when the initial fuzziness of your brain starts to subside.

“Look at me, angel. Come on. Look at me.” She’s pleading, why? You have no idea. But you comply without much hesitation as her thumb brushes against your clit and it takes all you have not to yelp.

She looks so good; hand buried between your thighs and eyes darting between yours like she’s looking for that little bit of keep going, you’re doing so good swimming around in your blissed-out expression. And you know your words will fail so instead your fingers grip tighter at the roots of her hair and your moans echo louder.

A particularly loud moan unhinges itself from the back of your throat and Natasha shudders excitedly, “Oh, angel, you’ve just been so neglected. Just needed to be taken care of, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Fuck, Natasha.” It’s the first time you’ve ever sworn outloud, she thinks, and it’s her doing.

Her teeth scrape against your ear, a second and third finger pushing past your entrance one after another. The sounds of your arousal are lewd and, if you weren’t so focused on wanting to cum, damn-near embarrassing.

But Natasha revels in the sound, “My filthy little angel who goes all stupid when her demon plays with her clit, yeah?” ‘Her demon’. Your demon. Your very own manifestation of greed and want and lust and she felt like heaven.

You had almost forgotten who - what - she was until you feel her lips curl into a smirk against your cheek, “You like the way I fuck you?” You’re nodding without a second thought and the laugh she lets out is dark, “Let me hear you say it.”

You gulp, swallowing the shame suddenly creeping up your throat as her fingers curl against the soft spot inside you and you’re yelling out. “I like it!” You whimper as she repeats her movements, the sounds of her fucking you are echoing through the bathroom still.

“No no no,” She huffs frustratedly, showing the first sign of disapproval she had ever directed towards you as her free hand claws at the small of your back, “The right way baby. Say ‘I love the way you fuck me Tasha, so good to me’.”

You probably would have cried if given the chance, embarrassment spreading over your cheeks at how much you want to say it, if only just to please her.

You babble something entirely incoherent and Natasha’s fingers come to a stop inside you. You yelp defenselessly and your eyes shoot open to look her in the eye.

“I can feel you clenching around me, dove. You want to cum? Say it.” If her voice had been deep before, it was sinking into the trenches now. Your hips involuntarily rut against her hand and she forces them against the sink with a strength only she has.

“I love it!” You screech when the need for her to finish you off becomes too much to bare, “I love the way you fuck me, Tasha!” And you did, more than anything. Her fingers twitch inside you as tears of frustration tumble down your flushed cheeks, “You’re so good to me!”

Her lips are on yours as soon as the words roll off your tongue. You double forward against her, trying to keep up with the pace of the kiss as her fingers pump in and out of your cunt at a speed you would unironically call inhuman.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You’re hissing against her lips, body vibrating with pure pleasure. “Cum for me, angel.” She exclaims, “Come on. Show me just how good I make you feel.”

You’re choking on nothing and gasping for air as you cum, one hand anchored in her red locks and the other against the sink as your knuckles turn white under the pressure of your grip.

Natasha is giddy beside you, fueled by the way your body reacts as her fingers work you through your orgasm slower and deeper until you’re shuddering away from her and yelling out gibberish nonsense.

She comes to a stop, eases you down from your high and pulls you against her chest tightly. “That’s my good girl.” She hums as your chest heaves against her stomach. “Breathe, angel.”

When she pulls away to cup your face, you’re fighting against heavy eyelids and a deliciously fucked-out mind. She smiles, “My angel.”

[paper-n-ashes]

New Endeavours

Characters: Modern AU!Kylo Ren x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), Sugar daddy relationship, sexual references but no actual smut, bisexual vibes, attending a strip club.

Author’s Note: This is all because of my love, @maryforyou. An AU venture she ignited and I couldn’t let go of. Read into this however you want, I’m an open book in terms of exploring sexuality without labels. Being the first AU I’ve ever attempted, I kept this as an intro, to hopefully dive into the more explicit content I’ve been ruminating on for too long as a Part 2 (depending on how this is received).

*

“Are you sure this what you want?”

You smiled sweetly, smoothing out the creases in your dress as Kylo handed you your coat and gloves. “Like I said every day this week, I’m very sure.”

He still appeared doubtful, plush lips twisted in a disbelieving frown. “I could give you anything your heart desires for your birthday, princess,” he urged, helping you to secure the top buttons of your waistcoat, his large frame shifting close to yours. “This barely seems like enough of a gift for such a special occasion.”

Kylo was used to showering you with physical symbols of his adoration in the 18 months you had known him. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, lavishing all types of jewellery and clothing on you, some of the pieces you were certain cost more than your tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city. Every time you tried to refuse the extravagant gifts, Kylo always replied with sweetened notions of needing to worship and adore the personified goddess he saw you as. And when spoken in his infuriatingly mesmerising tenor, they would quickly conquer your resistance.

You were acutely aware of what this looked like from an outside perspective. A wealthy older man courting a young woman over 10 years his junior. Bathing her head to toe in the finest attire, parading her around in places a woman of her standing wouldn’t have been able to afford in two lifetimes.

A label came with this kind of behaviour. One you didn’t particularly like, yet was still true.

Sugar daddy.

There wasn’t a way you could deny that’s how your association with Kylo begun.

You’d heard whispers of other girls at the college you went to doing it. Offering their bodies to the affluent men of this city. At first, you’d scoffed at the idea. But when that third overdue notice of your credit card debt came, with the threat of eviction hanging over your head, you didn’t really have much choice.

A name was given to you of a bar that specialised in these kinds of meetings, completely covertly of course. And there Kylo had found you, hiding away in a secluded corner, stirring the gin and tonic in front of you with a single finger. At first, you’d assumed he was a well-dressed bartender, seemingly too young and strikingly handsome to be in need of a place like this. So you smiled sweetly and told him you weren’t quite done with your drink.

Within such an innocent interaction, Kylo knew he had to have you. And he did, 45 minutes later in the poorly lit bathroom stall, half-dressed bodies clutched together as he had you perch on the porcelain sink, fucking you with an uncharacteristically reckless abandon.

He hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he anticipated from that evening, the recommendation being given to him from a higher executive who regularly partook in the questionable operations of this establishment. Kylo meant only to scope the place out, sit for a quiet solitary drink out of the way of other patrons. There, he’d discovered you.

Shrinking into your stool, somewhat inhibited, clearly out of your element. The shy smile that spread across your face after he murmured a stiff hello ensnared him in moments, simply for how sincere it was. He wasn’t used to that.

Another thing Kylo wasn’t used to was the type of electricity that followed in your conversation. Rarely had he experienced an exchange that was so charged yet… genuine. You didn’t appear expectant, didn’t care to know how much money he made or the status of his career. You simply wanted to talk.

It was interesting how this fuelled an urge to make you speechless, to have you resorting to whines and whimpers rather than articulate your thoughts with any words. He didn’t act on them. Content to bide his time, play his cards right, set a precedence of composure and restraint in the hope of securing another meeting. You, however, had never cultivated the same type of discipline Kylo had.

After too many long minutes of flirtatious banter, you leaned forward, mouthing in a hushed tone, asking him to meet you in the women’s bathroom.

The chance encounter had bound you for longer than predicted.

Although never explicitly stated, the two of you fulfilled a portion of each other’s needs. Kylo required adequate distraction from his corporate life, someone who could slip into his erratic schedule with ease to… relieve him of mounting tension. In return, he provided you the monetary means to live in the city of your dreams without constant fear of homelessness.

In the months that passed, your arrangement turned into something stable, secure. His presence a constant in your life. While his working hours were long and finishing times unpredictable, Kylo could always count on you to be summoned to him from a single text message. Be it in the middle of the day, or the early hours of morning, you would race to a place of his choosing. Sometimes at his lush apartment, sometimes his office, and a plethora of restaurant bathrooms across the city after particularly stressful business lunches.

Initially, your involvement was kept mostly out of public view. Kylo had wanted to protect you from the judgements and negative connotations that were unavoidable in the arena of his work. Around the year mark, these reservations about being seen with you seemed to dissipate. Soon you were linked hand in hand at countless high-class dinners and charity events. A poised and elegant couple, right until the last set of eyes moved away.

This is where you had your fun.

As spectacular as Kylo was at fucking you until you saw stars, he’d surprisingly gone this long in life without venturing into more creative territory when it came to satisfaction. His version of sex was fast and hard, needing as much as you as he could get, chasing release with no frills or diversion. He’d never had the time, or the right lover, to encourage any of his deeply hidden fantasies. Until you.

You were game for anything. Sexually adventurous. Ready and willing to try all there was on offer just to elicit the highest levels of ecstasy. It was difficult not to be at the thought of Kylo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, any part of him.

Although a little more slowly, he began to welcome new experiences, new pursuits of pleasure. Witnessing your reactions to these efforts became somewhat of an addiction for him. The way you writhed and squealed when exploring anal play for the first time. The way you surrendered and adored his verbal degradation and physical strikes. The way your body twitched and spasmed after the use of a newly obtained toy purchased with his platinum credit card.

You never pushed him, or forced him into anything he found uncomfortable in the chase of a sexual high. Communication was paramount, and boundaries were respected.

Interestingly enough, tonight was a boundary he never thought you’d cross.

“This is what I asked for, remember?” you smiled, taking the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

Kylo’s apprehension refused to dissipate, while still clutching you closer. “It just… seems like this is something I will enjoy more than you.”

You barely withheld the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

His eyebrows crinkled, thinking the question over. There was the hint of a smirk that tugged the corner of his mouth, a subtle excited quiver in the breath he exhaled. “So you’re not doing this for me?”

“Not at all,” you breathed. Your palm slipped under his clean-shaven jaw, skating a thumb reassuringly over his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“You have?”

You hummed a yes, drifting your lips intoxicatingly close to his, staring up with wide eyes.

Kylo’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel jealous, princess.”

“You’re only looking,” you insisted softly. “And, even if you touch a little…” You bit your lip at the thought. “Those women won’t be who gets to be taken home and fucked until it hurts.”

There was a noticeable tensing in the arms circled around you, as Kylo’s eyes began to burn with an impatient greed. “I could do that now, right against this door.”

It was difficult to deny how you’d happily allow him to make true on that statement. To slam you into the exquisitely carved oak door of his apartment and fill you to your absolute limit. However, the tantalising image of your planned evening was too consuming, heaving and tugging for you to indulge a deeply embedded desire you’d never been brave enough to pursue.

“Save it for when we get home,” you chirped, reaching for the doorhandle and dragging Kylo into the hallway.

 *

“Follow me,” the maître D instructed, her voice cheerfully welcoming. Even the sight of her silken, green dress was intimidating, the fabric glossing over her nimble shape as she guided you up the set of stairs. The lighting was low, almost too dark to see properly, Kylo’s grip strong as your steps were drowned out by the sultry music emanating behind the double doors at the apex. As they were opened to you, the hypnotic baseline ricocheted around your body.

You scanned around the large room, bold lights illuminating a risen stage with two currently unused silver poles at either corner. Plush chairs circled around, occupied by a differing array of men. Slinking between the patrons were women decorated with luxurious, high-end lingerie, each one styled and set to provoke unyielding temptation.

This was a completely new undertaking for you. Attending a strip club. Usually a male endeavour, seeking out instant gratification in the form of scantily clad bodies and paid attention. You knew this was an unusual request for a birthday outing, yet in truth there was nothing from Kylo you wanted more.

The two reasons were somewhat opposing, although they would still feed the same goal. Satisfying a craving.

One being that you had always found women to be alluring and captivating to a height you’d never really accepted, almost been afraid of. Only with time and maturity had you learned your attraction to them was a natural occurrence you were now ready to explore.

The other reason was a little more scandalous, and what you hadn’t quite articulated to Kylo yet. To have the view of his eyes roaming another woman’s almost naked body as she exposed herself to him, drove you wild. In a situation you should feel jealousy, you were only devoured by an uncontainable lust.

Occasionally your mind had forayed into imaginations where he would take another like he’d taken you countless times, able to watch his hands clawing at supple breasts, the smooth motion of his hips, how his thick cock would split a tight, dripping cunt in two. All the while he would deride and goad you, layering you with taunts, desperate to inflame your envy and ownership.

Your plan for this particular evening didn’t extend that far. You only wished to enjoy the performance of mesmeric women in their most enchanting form, observe Kylo’s undeniable arousal at the same lithe, flexible bodies, and return home to remind him that only you could ignite the billowing flames of a violent release.

Oh, but that plan crumbled when you’d each settled into your seats, just in time for the next show of seduction. A pair of glittered, platform heels slinked near to the pole closest to you, your vision roaming upwards over the statuesque figure they connected to. Delicately laced, ivory fabric shielded her most intimate portions from full view, conforming flawlessly to the curves of her figure. Somehow demure yet indecently sensual.

Lips parted, your breath hitched as the exquisite woman twirled around, her eyes trained to you as she let a wicked smile appear. You were sure this was a regular occurrence, a flirtation she expressed to all the patrons in this room. Yet, as she began to move in time with the decadent beat of the music, her eyes stayed transfixed to you marvelling stare.

In an unprecedented display of courage, you beckoned Kylo closer to you, whispering to his ear. “Her. That’s what I really want for my birthday.”

*To be continued*

Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in future works! 

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45 

[shin-city]

Want or Need, Love or Greed?[Hawks X Reader]

pairing: yandere!hawks x reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 3.5k

a/n: he’s a loony bird lolol [see end for more notes!]

tags: dubcon, stalking, life endangerment?, manipulation, dacryphilia, oral sex (female receiving), choking, squirting, orgasm denial, semi-public sex, exhibitionism

Your first month without Hawks had gone by so quickly, and much easier than you’d expected. You thought it would be difficult getting used to him not being around, but you’d fared just fine. He was still around; almost every night, actually. But you didn’t know that, and so you were content.

It was nice not having him breathing down your neck 24/7, telling you what you could and couldn’t wear, where you could and couldn’t go, and let’s not forget his favorite: who you could and couldn’t hang out with. That was never really an issue Keigo had to address toward the beginning of your relationship, seeing as you’d spent most, if not all of your time with him; but after being around him so much, you began to crave a little independence. You started spending less time with him, and more time with your friends, which he really didn’t like.

In fact, it would end up being the undoing of your relationship.

You’d gone out to a bar with some friends one night. Keigo was busy with hero work, as he often was, and they had invited you out for a couple of drinks. You failed to mention this to him, and only did so once he’d called inquiring about your whereabouts. After a heated argument about how you were being secretive, and outlandish accusations that you were cheating on him, he’d shown up to the bar and practically dragged you out of there. To say it was embarrassing was an understatement.

After that, you’d gathered up all of his belongings that he kept at your apartment (down to the last stray feather), shoved them into his arms, and told him that you couldn’t be with him anymore. He’d laughed at first, not thinking you were serious for whatever reason. Even after you elaborated to him that you were breaking up, he still kept a smile on his face. He told you that he loved you and that he respected your decision, and left without another word. It was easy; too easy and that should’ve been a red flag but you missed it.

One evening, you’d gone out onto the balcony of your apartment for some fresh air. The sun had just begun to set, the air around you cool and crisp. The cold wind nipped at your skin, which you combated with a thick sweatshirt. It was Keigo’s: the only thing you’d forgotten to give back to him amidst your rampage, and even though it still smelled of him, you couldn’t deny that it was deliciously comfortable.

You were enjoying yourself, sitting on your cushioned bench and sipping on your favorite beverage as you watched the colors of the sky change. And then you heard it. Flapping. You thought maybe you were just hearing things. Maybe being enveloped in his scent like that had your mind playing tricks on you. Shutting your eyes and taking deep breaths, you tried to convince yourself that that’s all that it was.

“Baby bird, you’re going to catch a cold out here.”

Your eyes flew open, your drink nearly falling from your hands. You snapped your head toward the sound of his voice, watching in horror as he perched himself on the railing before climbing over it. He wasted no time striding toward you, a smug look on his face.

“Keigo... what are you doing here?” You tried your best to sound composed, but your trembling hands and wide eyes gave you away. Not to mention the way you immediately scooted away from him as he sat down on the bench beside you.

“I heard you come outside, and I thought you might want-”

“Wait- you heard me come outside?” You swallowed nervously. That could only mean that he was already there when you came out.

He nodded, propping his legs up on the coffee table and lounging back. His demeanor was uncomfortably casual. He was behaving as if the two of you parted on good terms, which was the farthest thing from what actually happened.

“So you were just...wandering around outside my apartment?”

Keigo chuckled. “I wouldn’t say ‘wandering around’. I was just hanging out.”

“And how often do you ‘hang out’ outside of my apartment?”

His eyes lit up as his smile grew. “Almost every night, baby bird.”

Your stomach dropped at the admission, becoming impossibly more uncomfortable than you already were. You knew he could be overbearing at times, but stalking you? That was low- even for him. Chills ran up your spine as you thought of how many times he must’ve been watching you and you didn’t even realize.

“You... you can’t do that!” you shouted, standing up and crossing your arms.

“I can do whatever I want,” he retorted. “Because you’re mine; or have you forgotten that on this little break of ours?”

You laughed incredulously. He had to be joking. “Break? We’re not on a break, Keigo. We broke up.”

He let out a sigh before standing up, golden eyes narrowing as he prowled toward you. Instinctively you stepped backwards, backing away from him until your back was pressed up against the balcony railing. Keigo closed the distance between you, gripping the railing on either side of you. It was so strange to be this close to him again. A small part of you enjoyed it. You’d be lying if you said you were completely over him. It had only been a month; but him popping up like this wasn’t exactly helping the process.

“We’re not done until I say we are,” he cooed as he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I gave you your space, didn’t I? Don’t you miss me, baby?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you. You thought he might kiss you, but his lips found your cheek instead, chastely pecking it. He did so again and again, trailing light kisses down to your neck. Frozen in place, it wasn’t until he pressed his tongue against your neck that you came to your senses. Pressing your palms against his chest, you shoved him backwards.

“I know what you’re doing, okay? You think you can just sweet talk your way back into my good graces like you always do, but...not this time. Even if I do miss you, I don’t need you anymore, Keigo.”

He frowned at you as he took in your words, looking as though you’d physically hurt him. It was hard for him to hear you say that you didn’t need him. He wouldn’t have even minded as much if you said you didn’t love him anymore. He could easily make you fall in love with him again. But for you to not need him? He couldn’t have that. You had to need him as much as he needed you.

“Okay, fine. I understand,” Keigo sighed as he advanced toward you again, this time with his arms outstretched. “One last hug before I go, baby bird.”

He wasn’t asking you to hug him, he was telling you to. You didn’t necessarily want to, but if that’s what it took to get him to go away then you figured it’d be best to just get it over with. He halted in front of you, wanting you to initiate the embrace. Trying your hardest not to roll your eyes, you loosely wrapped your arms around him and pressed your cheek against his chest. His arms encircled you, pulling you into him as he tightly embraced you. As his warmth and scent enveloped you, you almost began to enjoy the once familiar feeling of him hugging you.

And then suddenly, Keigo’s wings were flaring out behind him.

Before you knew what was happening you were on the other side of the railing, floating in mid air with his arms being the only thing keeping you from certain death. Still, you began to thrash around wildly, screaming in sheer terror. His grip tightened and he threw his head back as he laughed at you.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared!”

You weren’t sure why you decided to look down but you instantly regretted it, your stomach dropping at the realization of how high up you really were.

“K-Keigo!” you shrieked. “Are you insane? Put me down!”

One of his arms left your torso and he grabbed your wrist, holding onto it tightly. “If you say so, baby bird.”

The arm that was still wrapped around your body released you and you shut your eyes as you felt yourself begin to fall, though you only dropped a few inches before stopping suddenly. Reluctantly opening your eyes, you looked up to see Keigo smiling down at you as he held you by the wrist.

You froze, finding that it’d be best not to struggle so much when the only thing keeping you up was his hand around your wrist, which he teasingly loosened and tightened his grip on. Taking deep breaths, you attempted to regain a little composure. He wouldn’t actually let you fall. Then again, he was behaving more erratically than normal; who knew what he might do.

“Keigo,” you whimpered. “Please don’t let go.”

“Of course I won’t.” He smirked, tilting his head to one side. “You need me, don’t you?”

That’s what this was- a drastic, metaphoric ploy to get you to say that you needed him. Of course in this moment you did need him. Your life was quite literally in the palm of his hand; but apart from this specific occasion, you didn’t need him anymore. At least, that’s what you’d tried to convince yourself over the past month. Though, something about his endearing gaze and sugarcoated words had you reconsidering that. Perhaps his ploy was working.

You glanced down at the ground once again. Swallowing a sob, along with your pride, you groaned, “Yes.” 

Keigo shook his head. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I need you, Keigo. Please...I want to come up.”

He smiled in content as he  reached for your other arm, leaning over and pulling you up just enough to hook your arms around his neck. You let out a shaky sigh as he wrapped his arms around you, an overwhelming amount of relief washing over your body.

As soon as your feet touched the floor of the balcony, you began to sniffle. You were feeling a whirlwind of emotions, not to mention the nausea you felt from being jolted around so rapidly. It wasn’t long before the tears in your eyes spilled down your cheeks, and Keigo immediately cupped your face in his hands, tilting your face up so that he could see how pretty you looked. Of course he didn’t enjoy making you cry, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t turn him on when you did.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby. I’ve got you.”

He pressed his lips against your forehead, then your nose, and finally your quivering lips. Completely ignoring your distressed state, he kissed you, humming contentedly against your lips. That in itself was another metaphor for your broken relationship. It was so like him to disregard your feelings and put his own first. But as his hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, the other settling on your lower back and pulling you into him, you started to think that maybe needing him wasn’t such a bad thing. You did still love him, and clearly he loved you- if love was even an appropriate term for such affection.

“Kiss me,” Keigo breathed across your lips.

Again, he was ordering you to be affectionate toward him; but this time you didn’t feel as reluctant. Whether it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, or the fact that you genuinely missed him- you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let you go. You hesitantly placed your hands on his shoulders and slowly moved your lips against his. Encouraged by your compliance, he slipped his tongue into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. His gentle caresses became needy, groping and grabbing you all over.

“Baby bird,” he mumbled in between pecks at your lips. “I missed you so much.”

He broke the kiss, gazing down at you as he waited for you to tell him what he already knew.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, looking up at him through wet eyelashes.

Keigo kissed you once more before resting his hands on your hips and guiding you toward the bench on which you previously lounged. He sat down first, and then pulled you down to straddle his lap. The intimate position brought back fond memories of happier times; not just for you, but for him as well. A time when it seemed like your relationship was perfect and untouchable. He didn’t dwell on it though, because you’d make new memories together. He wasn’t planning on letting you go again any time soon- or ever.

His lips found yours once again, hands sliding underneath your- his sweatshirt, and he softly groaned against your lips as his hands met your bare chest. He wasted no time in grabbing handfuls of your breasts, relishing in your soft moans as your nipples rolled against his palms.

“Look at you- still wearing my clothes. So cute,” he smiled against your lips as he grabbed the hem of the shirt and slid it up your torso. He didn’t take it completely off, letting it bunch up at your collarbones. It turned him on to see you wearing it, despite arguing that you were done with him.

You shivered as the cold bit at your exposed skin. “Keigo...it’s cold.”

He chuckled as he buried his face into your neck, kissing it as he tugged on your hardening nipples. “Don’t you worry, baby bird. We’ll get you warmed up soon enough.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he gently pushed you off of him and guided you to lay down on the bench. He climbed on top of you, nudging your legs apart so he could fit in between them. His fingers hooked into the waist of your pants and he hastily tugged them down your legs, which were still trembling from his little stunt earlier.

Your heart began to race with anticipation, but also anxiety as you realized that he was planning on fucking you on the balcony. You were surrounded by several other apartment buildings and business offices; not to mention the neighboring balconies of your own building, and anyone could easily look out of their window and see the two of you.

“M-maybe we should go inside...someone might see us.”

“I know,” he mused as he kissed, bit, and licked his way down your body. “Isn’t it exciting?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a gasp as Keigo pressed his tongue against your pussy over your soaked panties. Any concern of someone seeing you immediately left your mind as his tongue prodded at your clit. Your hands acted of their own accord, tangling in his blonde locks and pulling. This prompted him to pull your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. You were so wet; embarrassingly wet. But what could you expect? You’d been touch starved for the past month, and now the only man who could ever fuck you properly was back in his rightful place between your thighs.

“So pretty,” he breathed. “And all mine.”

Keigo looked up at you as he attached his mouth your pussy, never breaking eye contact as he devoured you. He sounded so feral as he groaned into your cunt, lapping up your juices and savoring every bit of it. You tasted so sweet, and oh, how he’d missed it.

“Ah~ right there,” you moaned, though your guidance wasn’t needed. He knew exactly what he was doing. As long as the past month had felt, it wasn’t long enough for him to forget just how to please you. A few more flicks of his tongue against your swollen clit had you on the brink of an orgasm already, and he knew it.

“My baby’s gonna cum already,” he cooed into your pussy, licking at you more fervently.

You nodded, grinding against his mouth. “I’m...so close.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum?”

Nodding once again, your eyes screwed shut as you felt your release creeping up on you.

“That’s too bad.”

Your eyes flew open as the warmth of his mouth left you, his lips pressing against your inner thigh in a wet kiss before he brought his face up to yours. You couldn’t contain the whine that emanated from your throat, and he chuckled in amusement.

“Why-”

“You thought I’d actually let you cum? After how mean you’ve been? I don’t think so, baby bird.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your pussy ached to be relieved of the tension he’d built up. He pulled away from you to push down his pants and boxers, hissing as his cock came in contact with the cool air, and he wanted nothing more than to bury it inside your needy cunt. Especially when a single tear rolled down your cheek.

“Keigo,” you cried pathetically. “I’m sorry. Please- I wanna cum so bad.”

He pressed a finger to your lips, shushing you as he pumped his cock with his other hand. He leaned over you to kiss away the tear, following it up with a quick peck on your lips.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he informed you, gliding his leaking cock back and forth over your throbbing clit. “And you’ll just have to hope you cum before I do, won’t you?”

You only whimpered in response, and it wasn’t long before he was pushing the tip into your deliciously tight cunt, moaning as you contracted around him. You were such an absolute, dripping mess that he slipped in with little to no resistance hindering him. Before you knew it, he was nudging your cervix, the girth of his cock filling you up and pressing deliciously against your g-spot.

“Yesss,” he groaned, fingernails digging into your thighs as he held them open. “Fuck, I missed your tight little pussy so much, baby.” He pulled out completely before slamming back into you, and you gripped his biceps for stability as he began to mercilessly pound into you.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth in a failed attempt to silence yourself as strident moans fell from your lips. Keigo immediately pulled your hand away, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Don’t do that. Let everyone hear how good I’m fucking you.” Bringing his hand up to your neck, he wrapped his hand around it, applying just enough pressure to your throat to constrict your breathing a pleasurable amount. You no longer held back, crying out his name around labored breaths as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

“Mm, that’s a good girl,” he praised, hooking your leg over his shoulder. “My good girl.” The new angle had you seeing stars, his pace unfaltering as he continued to slam into you. 

You could feel your climax creeping up on you again. You both did, and his thrusts became sloppier, but harder as he neared his release as well. Using the hand around your throat, he pulled you up so that your face was only centimetres away from his.

“You gonna cum for me baby bird?” He released your neck to rub tight circles around clit, watching in amusement as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Yes, Keigo, please don’t stop.”

Had he an ounce more of reserve, he would’ve pulled out of you and jerked himself to release somewhere on your body- just to really teach you a lesson. But as your cunt spasmed around his cock, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took, your legs wrapping around him and a series of profanities leaving your lips as you came. His relentless rubbing of your clit coupled with the stimulation of your g-spot had you squirting around him; something he’d made you do plenty of times before, but still never ceased to excite him.

“Yes, fuck, yes baby, I’m cumming,” he moaned into your ear as he leaned over you, his hips stuttering and wings twitching before he stilled completely. Shortly after, you felt spurt after spurt of his hot cum filling you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your chests pressed together as he rode out his high. The two of you stayed that way as you caught your breaths, Keigo whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he came back to earth. He stayed inside of you for a few more moments, relishing in the feeling he’d missed so dearly before pulling out of you.

You watched in awe as copious amounts of his cum leaked out of you, but only for a few seconds before he tilted your chin so that you’d look at him. He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. When he pulled away, his expression was so soft; so sweet. Like the Keigo you’d fallen in love with.

“I love you,” he told you, kissing all over your face. “So fucking much.”

“I love you, too,” you assured not only him, but yourself as well. It felt strange saying it after such a long time, but it felt right nonetheless.

He pulled back, golden eyes staring into yours with an endearing, yet intimidating expression.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

*

a/n: hope you all enjoyed! I just wanted to say thank you for all the love on my first few fics! and also my masterlist will be out tomorrow ❤

[simeonisalesbian]

Drink Away Ya Problems Mammon x MC

Yo yo yo. This is the first Obey Me fic i’ve written (I’ve got a couple others I’ll post in a hot girl minute) MC is gender neutral and it’s really easy to replace each “MC” with any name of your choosing ^.^ Thank u for ur time!

Words: 1436

Mc sat at their desk staring blankly at the page and textbook in front of them. It had been about 3 hours now with no interruptions from the demons who lived in the house. Quite the rare occurrence. They had hoped to get a good amount of work done, and they did up until now. Apparently having to deal with constant intrusions makes someone's ability to focus on something in one sitting really shity. They sighed again just wishing someone would distract them from this for at least a little while.

As if summoned,  the door swung open revealing Mammon. “Mc…”

"Hey Mammon, what's up?" Mc turned happily smiling at the demon who came to distract them. Their face fell as soon as they saw the demon's face. "Oh. Is everything okay?" 

Mammon had his arms crossed close to his chest and looked as if he'd start crying at any minute. His face was turned away from them and just to be safe his eyes were staring at the floor. 

" 'M leavin'. 'M sick of being accused of shit so I'm running away. Felt like ya would want to know." Mammon squeezed his eyes shut. "So yeah I'll just go-" he turned to go back out the door. 

Before he could, Mc grabbed their arm pulling him into a hug. The sudden motion of affection was a breaking point and he practically crumbled in their arms and let a few tears silently slip.

"Hey. You're not leaving. What would I do without the Great Mammon around, huh?" Mc slowly led the demon over to sit on the bed, hoping to make him feel a bit better about himself. 

" 'M not that great," Mammon mumbled under his breath as he willingly sat down on the bed. He rubbed at his eyes hoping to regain some composure as Mc looked at his face.

"I beg to disagree. I mean you just saved me from what must have been the most boring assignment in the history of all the realms." Mc said while moving to lock the door. It wasn't common that they actually locked it but they hoped the motion would put Mammon more at ease. After that, they sat back down pulling Mammon back into their arms. "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

He shook his head. 

"That's fine too. Whatever you want. Just know I'm here for you, kay?" Mc said softly petting the demon's head.

They sat there quietly for a while before Mammon spoke up. "Do you still have that bottle of human alcohol?" It was quietly mumbled and if Mc wasn't listening they would have missed it. 

"Yeah. Was saving it for a rainy day. I'd say this falls under that. Did you want me to grab it?" 

"Yeah. If ya want to." Mammon sat up just enough from where he was leaning on them to let them stand up. He watched as they dug under the bed, grabbing a glass bottle they bought the last time they visited the human world. 

"I can grab cups from the kitchen or we can drink straight from the bottle. Up to you." 

"Fuck cups, hand it here," Mammon said, reaching out for the bottle. 

Mc smiled. He wasn't quite back to his usual to his happy-go-lucky self but this was a lot closer. And while it probably wasn't the most healthy idea to drink during a breakdown, Mammon probably would have drunk himself sick if he actually did go out along with gambling away all of his brothers' money. So arguably this was better than that outcome. 

"Hey it is mine, save some for me jeez," Mc said watching the demon chug the bottle they handed him as if it was water. 

"Your mistake for handin' it to me first. Here." He handed the bottle back to let Mc take a swing. He glanced down at his phone that had no new messages. "Do ya think they actually think I ran away?" 

"Hm?" Mc passed the bottle. "Your brothers? Hard to say we were pretty quiet for a while they might. Why do you want them to think that?" 

"Dunno." He said before drinking a much smaller amount than before. "Maybe? Is it cruel to want them to hurt as much as I do?" He took another sip.

"Not sure." Mc grabbed the bottle knowing the avatar of greed would drink the whole thing if they let him. "In human standards, we'd probably call it a bit cruel but a common feeling nonetheless. Aren't demons meant to be cruel tho? Isn't that part of their thing?" 

Mammon just shrugged. "I guess so." He didn't look happy with the answer so Mc tried again.

"You're asking me though right? I don't think you're cruel. I think those feelings are fine. As long as you don't take them too far that is. Like as long as you don't like...I dunno kill them or something? You're probably fine" 

Mammon laughed softly. "Do all humans have sucky morals like that or just you?" 

"Hey, my morals aren't sucky. I just set the bar low. Obviously, there are lesser bads than killing but it's the first thing that came to mind." 

"Lesser evils."

"Huh?"

"Ya said 'lesser bads.' Pretty sure it's lesser evils." Mammon corrected with a smirk.

"Who died and made you the saying police huh? I can say lesser bads if I want. Fuck the police and all that." Mc said playfully glaring.

"Didn't you just imply 'm the police?" 

"Don't." Mc glanced at the bottle. "How the hell have we already drank half of this?" 

"Who knows. But I say we finish it off." He said grabbing it.

"What? No, we should probably stop. It's Thursday, we have classes tomorrow." Mc said, pulling the bottle towards them. 

"Fuck classes I ran away remember? I don't need no classes." Mammon pulled.

"Yeah you ran off I didn't. I still have to go" 

"Nah. We'll just say I brought you with me." 

Mc paused thinking for a minute. "You think that would work?" They couldn't think for shit they drank nearly as much as Mammon had.

"Course I do! When has the Great Mammon ever been wrong?" 

"Many times." 

Mammon pouted but pulled the bottle from Mc's hands. "Ha!" He shakily stood almost falling and he moved away. He stood another long swing from the bottle.

"Hey! It's my bottle!" Mc stood with the intent to take back the bottle but fell as soon as they did.

"Oh shit. You good?" Mammon said, setting the bottle down long enough to check on the human. 

Mc grabbed it chugging nearly as much as Mammon did before replying. "Yeah. Wasn't that far of a fall. Don't think I can walk, though. Snacks are out of the question." 

Mammon smiled before pulling Mc back to their feet and setting them both down on the bed. "We can call Beel if we want snacks. He's like the king of snacks. Besides, we can just drink and like, watch a movie. Don't need snacks to have fun." 

"Shit, you're right. God, I'm gonna have the hangover from hell tomorrow huh." Mc said grabbing the laptop that was luckily left on the nightstand, to pull up a movie.

"You and me both. But it'll be fine. I want to pick the movie though it was my idea." Mammon said, pulling the laptop towards him. 

"No, it's my laptop."

It was going to be a long night.

Epilogue

Lucifer unlocked the door to Mc's Room later that night. The chatter from inside had long since died down since the last time he checked. He was originally going to ask if Mammon had said anything to them since he left. But the last time he had stopped by he heard the familiar bickering from his brother and the human. He left them to it and decided to check on both of them later.

Opening the door he smiled seeing that the owners of the voices that had forgotten to talk in an inside voice earlier, we both soundly asleep.

Mc had Mammon wrapped in their arms, his head on their chest. Mammon had one arm dropped over them, the empty liquor bottle dangling from his hand. The laptop that has long since died was close to falling off the bed.

Lucifer placed the laptop on the desk plugging it in. He then grabbed the bottle from Mammon's hand. 

The hangover those two would have tomorrow would be their only punishment. Knowing they did that to themselves would be better than any punishment Lucifer could give after all.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[lordoftermites]

Fairy Chess ‖ p. ⅱ

Desire, I'm hungry I hope you feed me How do you want me, how do you want me? Pairing: Roiben x Kaye Rating: M/E for Myself is a deviant and Everybody about to know about it Part Ⅰ

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"I warned you, little fox," he whispers roughly. "I do not play fair."

The halls on the way to his rooms are near empty and quiet—a stark contrast to the liveliness of the throne room, much to Roiben’s relief. He leads Kaye along, passing the odd servant every few paces; they shuffle out of the kitchens, carrying silver trays piled high with replenishments and crystal bowls overflowing with varying shades of equally-diverse liquor. They stumble into bowing when they see the king among them, to which he gives a nod in response, releasing them to continue their tasks.

As they pass the still-bustling kitchens, he wonders, absently, if any of them have had a moment’s reprieve through the near-month-long revelry. He concludes not likely, and makes a mental note to be sure they are given proper respite when this is all over. Roiben had promised he would be different—better than those who held his station before him. He could start with this.

Suddenly, Kaye is pulling on his arm, tugging him out of his reverie and into a dark corridor splitting off from the main hallway. Roiben frowns; she knows the way to his chambers, and this isn’t it.

“What—?” he starts, but the question is abruptly silenced when Kaye pushes him back into the packed earth wall and covers his mouth with her own.

Her kisses are furious, burning things. Her hands, as they slide up the front of his doublet to grasp the buttons fastening it closed, are echoes of that ferocity.

Before Roiben can protest (not that he had a mind to in the first place), she’s already loosed the three silver clasps at his collar and is fumbling to undo those remaining. His own hands find their place at her hips to pull her into him. The sigh she gives when his fingers sink into the soft flesh there sends a spreading warmth through his lower abdomen, to the hardening length between his legs. They begin their own dance, tongue over teeth in the abandoned hall, the only sound that of their own breath quickening.

After freeing the last clasp of his doublet, Roiben’s already-labored breathing catches in his throat when Kaye’s hand slips farther down, to grasp him through his trousers. He shudders, fingers digging into her sides at the shock of the sensation. “Kaye,” he cautions against her swollen mouth, but she answers him only with a teasing squeeze. A groan rattles his chest. It’s almost painful for how good just this small action feels. Then he realizes, like a strike of lightning: she had made her first move of the game when she pulled him into this corridor, and now she’s advancing her turn without allowing him his.

A pixie, indeed.

Before she can steal another victory, Roiben encircles her wrist with his thumb and forefinger and spins them in one motion, until she is the one backed against the earthen wall. He pins her arm at her side, then forces a knee between her legs, parting them roughly. Kaye makes a small gasp at his sudden forcefulness, but doesn't protest. Instead, her leg snakes up to curl around his hip encouragingly.

He presses himself against her other thigh, near to throbbing now after her first wicked move. When he meets her eyes, he can see the greed in them even in the dim light. Her breathing is shallow, but she looks as though she’s ready to devour him in one gulp. He feels himself twitch at the thought of that. Kaye must have felt it too, because she grinds herself against his knee and bites her bottom lip in the same, ruinous way she had in the throne room.

This time, however, there are no onlookers to witness him leaning in to grab that bottom lip with his own teeth, no courtiers to gasp when he sucks on the swollen flesh—nor are there any other ears to hear the delicious moan she gives him for his checkmate.

Releasing her wrist, Roiben pauses only long enough to allow her to think it’s her move; sure enough, the hand he’d been holding against her side reaches out for him again, but he stops her short by crossing an arm over her chest, pinioning her there against the wall. Kaye huffs in frustration, wriggling against the bar of his arm.

A dangerous smile tugs at the corner of Roiben’s mouth. He brings his lips to her ear again, snaking his tongue out to lick the lobe. “I warned you, little fox,” he whispers roughly, his free hand gliding under the sheer fabric of her dress to thumb the band of her underwear, “I do not play fair.”

With a wink much like the one she’d given him earlier, he slips his hand down to the heat at the junction of her thighs.

Kaye’s gasp is divine, her arching back and the feel of her pulse against his stationary palm setting his mouth to water. She tries to grind against his hand, but he moves with her, refusing her the friction. Her fingers claw at his forearm in feral protest as he presses against her bundle of nerves yet makes no further move to give her what she wants. She lets out a whine, while her leg squeezes against his hip. Roiben can’t help but grin at the petulant sound.

“That’s… not… fair,” she pants, then seems to remember what he’d just finished reminding her; she relaxes, minutely and begrudgingly, against him and lets her head fall back against the wall.

Another point to the king.

Roiben takes this small sign of surrender with another smile and begins to move, drawing a languid line up, then down her slick petals. Without warning, he pushes a single finger into her core. Kaye makes a sound bearing close resemblance to a sob.

Just the feel of her, warm and trembling around him, is enough to make him stifle his own moan against her neck. But it’s Kaye’s mewling gasps in tandem, the agonizing pleasure as she bites down on his exposed shoulder in retaliation, that causes his hips to buck of their own accord against her other leg.

He draws back to look at her, wavering on a salacious faultline of his own making. It’s a measured effort to keep himself from taking her, right there in the dark of the hall—and by the look in her eyes, she knows it. “Now, that was unfair,” he grits out, reciprocating her low blow by adding another digit to his rhythm.

Kaye’s eyes widen before rolling closed, enraptured as his fingers curl inside her. He’s unrelenting now, driven by his own building desire as well as Kaye's own, picking up speed and then slowing to a painful withdrawal before sliding back in to the base of his knuckles. He can tell she’s every bit as furious as she is aroused; by the way she sinks her nails into his chest and drags them down his torso, her frenetic gasps; her leg a vice around his back; her walls clenching around his fingers.

She’s growing frantic—a wild creature lashing out at her captor. Fortunately for the both of them, Roiben has no interest in taming her any longer.

He traces his tongue along the pulsing vein in her neck as he finally gives her leave to move, withdrawing his arm from where it braced against her chest. “Go ahead,” he encourages her, palming her breast with his now-free hand through her dress. Kaye needs little more incentivizing than that; tangling her fingers in his hair, she rocks down onto his hand, setting her own chaotic speed. Her head falls against his shoulder, her lips going to caress the spot she’d bitten earlier.

Her other hand finds him again, stroking his length through his trousers. Roiben's eyes roll and he sucks in a breath at the touch, but he forces himself to keep focus; over and over he thrusts his fingers into her core, as deep as he can get them, curling and pressing into the spot that makes her cry out.

Kaye's whimpering, coupled with her unfettered rutting against his fingers while she palms him, is drawing him closer to the edge of his already-wavering control. His cock is overhard in her hand, his trousers too constricting. It is no small effort to keep his composure from crumbling.

Adding a third finger, he swirls his thumb over her soft petal of nerves and dips his head lower, closing his mouth over the thin fabric to get to the pert nipple beneath it.

He isn’t sure which of these—if not all of them at once—is the one to send her careening over the edge of rapture, but she topples all the same.

“Oh—oh, god. Ohfuckoh—fuck, Roiben!”

She’s attempting to stifle herself in the hall, but seems to struggle in maintaining a steady octave. When she buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her curses, he doesn’t restrain his pleased smirk.

Kaye bows off of the wall, spasming around his fingers as she rides the tempestuous wave of her release. Determined to see her through it, Roiben continues the pumping rhythm she set, teeth raking the sensitive area of her breast. She writhes and convulses against him, until her moaning declines into quiet whimpering at his neck. She collapses back against the cool earth, breath ragged, seemingly spent.

When Roiben finally straightens and withdraws his hand, however, Kaye catches him at the wrist, surprising him.

She brings that hand up to her clover-green lips; his eyes widen.

“Rath Roiben Rye…” His true name is hardly an exhaling of breath—though he hears her as clear as if she'd screamed it—before licking herself off his fingers.

He can’t decide, at the moment, which act is most shocking, but he can do nothing about either—even if he could work it out: He goes still as stone with the instant power of her invocation.

And while he knows Kaye can’t mean to do him any harm, that this must be some perverse ace up her sleeve to win their little game, not an ounce of that knowledge does anything to stop the old panic from clawing its way up to close his throat.

It does not balm the sudden stinging behind his vision.

His breathing comes in too short. Too shallow.

He realizes the irrationality of these feelings against Kaye. They are unnecessary—unwarranted. They are old nightmares.

She knows now what it means to conjure that power. What it means to him.

His heart is yet a wild animal beating against its own cage.

She won’t hurt him. She loves him. She knows.

Say something, he pleads without speaking.

He cannot diffuse his thoughts. He cannot bear this fear of suspension, the hovering step, seconds before the floor is stolen out from under him; of watching—of feeling every muscle, every joint, every nerve in his own body go rigid against his will, as it does every time. He knows he’s trembling, and yet he cannot stop himself. Not unless it comes from Kaye's mouth. Not unless she speaks the order.

Do it. Make me move.

Command me, Kaye. Command me, or release me.

It’s only a moment, a breath as she regains her bearings, but it is a long enough stretch of time that when she does speak, he is near to spiraling.

“Take me to your room, now.”

[john-langley-bristol-blogger]

It's All About The Money, Honey! Tuesday, February 2nd, 2022. 6.37pm.

I fought for every breath while at the same time trying to kill myself. I was at an all-time low and mentally confused. "You're okay, John, you're in A&E. What have you taken?" They were putting a tube down my throat as I lay there drowsy, and incoherent.

Through hazy eyes, I could see people and bright lights as I lay looking up, in someplace between life and death that felt comfortable because I was out of it from the addiction to alcohol and pills I frequently overdosed on as my escape route from the pain and torment of life as I knew it. I had blown the best part of £4 million in a few short years on living the high life and a champagne lifestyle. I had everything I could have ever wanted. I had property, and an endless stream of cash because every day was payday. My bank account and store card at Harrods, plus an endless stream of credit meant I could purchase things like Lalique crystal on a whim, a sauna, a jacuzzi, plus a £2.500 satellite dish with a remote control that enabled me to lock on to any broadcast satellite around the world - because I could. The same as I would go to a bar at the end of each day and spend at least £200, and after more than a few of the finest double malt whiskies, drank neat, of course, suddenly everyone was my friend and it was drinks all round. My crazy time ended, largely due to the death of my mother. I had to get away and start again somewhere no one knew me, and I knew no one. I was in mental turmoil.

What I didn't spend on booze went as powder up my nose, and at that time, trust me, I enjoyed every fucking minute! Until that moment I walked out from it all, disconnected myself from everything I knew, cut up every credit card I had, left everything I owed, and putting it bluntly, fucked off into the sunset with no turning back. I'm still not sure as to how or even why, my destination turned out to be the Borders town of Dumfries, in Scotland. What happened after I moved there is another story, and far too lengthy for here. Suffice to say I stayed and then traveled back to England, and Torquay via another visit to Brighton. Anyway, to cut the full-length version short, I made my way further down the South West. The photo you see above is where I ended up, in a Cornish field, living in a makeshift home of tarpaulins. I had nothing. No money, no mobile phone, and no clothes except those I was standing up in. Up to this point, I was a hopelessly ill man destined to be yet another grim statistic. Money came easy to me, too easy in fact, it came and went like perpetual winter snow before I chose to leave the capitalist world that I knew behind me and start afresh.

Suddenly having nothing became the brutal change I needed to set me straight. As I sat in my new home reflecting, cogitating, and in a lot of very different ways grieving for the comfort of my former life while in other ways thankful I'd made the break when I did as financially I was spiraling out of control and the only way out was to cut whatever losses I had. The mortgage company would have repossessed my home, and the credit card companies would have never been able to track me down as I went totally off-grid.

In all honesty, I could have stayed behind and paid everything off if I'd have wanted to, except both my head and my heart simply weren't happy continuing in that life and material mindset. Having money turned me into a pompous, arrogant, self-entitled, selfish arsehole of a human being, quite frankly, and money corrupted me because it came so freely.

For many people, it is an uncomfortable fit because, while money brings freedom, it also is associated with greed, corruption, and inequality among people. For that reason, many spiritual people struggle financially; they can’t unburden themselves from debt, for example, or they can’t attract the money they need to make their dreams a reality.

The world has distorted money because it has assigned false value to it. Wealth cannot increase your true value, and money cannot increase the value of your soul. Putting it bluntly, money has become fucked and poisoned by the greedy capitalists always wanting more - and as the rich get richer the poor become poorer while there is imbalance.

I recall a bright and sunny, early weekday morning when I sat on a hill overlooking the Tamar bridge as the rush hour traffic built up heading into Plymouth, and I could take an outsider view of the world I left behind and the necessary insanity of it all happening below me. To see people rushing to make others wealthier than most of them could ever aspire to be exposed itself to me in a way I'd never seen before. The 99% at the bottom of the ladder being the enablers for the 1% at the top which, when you think about it is kind of strange, as in itself money has no intrinsic value. It is paper and metal, after all. However, where it all goes tits-up is the value we place in it.

For this reason, money has become the end, not the means. Money is really just a way of storing people’s energy for the purpose of exchange. Long ago before the invention of money, people might have said, “I will help you harvest your crop if you will help me plant mine.” Now, we instead give our energy in exchange for an income. The amount that our time and energy are worth is decided by agreement between you and whoever is paying you.

So living off-grid taught me the old ways before money was even thought of, and I found myself exchanging things I needed for what others needed until I discovered a book titled 'Creative Visualisation' by Shakti Gawain, that taught me whatever I visualised through meditation would come to me if it was meant to be. There was also a New Age magazine at that time called 'Kindred Spirit' which I came to read staunchly every month, and this is where I learned from an article about the story of Findhorn, and how founders Eileen and Peter Caddy discovered how feeding six people on unemployment benefits was difficult, so Peter decided to grow vegetables. The land in the caravan park was sandy and dry but he persevered.

In her meditation, Dorothy discovered she was able to intuitively contact the overlighting intelligence of plants – which she called angels, and then devas – who gave her instructions on how to make the most of their fledgling garden.

She and Peter translated this guidance into action, with amazing results. In the barren sandy soil of the Findhorn Bay Caravan Park they grew huge plants, herbs, and flowers, most famously the now-legendary 40-pound cabbages. Word spread, horticultural experts came and were stunned, and this garden at Findhorn became famous.

Gawain and the Caddy's were inspirational to me, so I too began visualising my needs in the present, and sure enough, my needs were all met at exactly the right time. Chickens, greenhouses, windows, water, food, money, the tarpaulins you see in the picture above - were all provided for me. Admittedly it was all a bit ramshackle, but to me, it was a snug, cozy home until eventually the landowner who, to this very day I will always remember being both kind and brilliant in every way respectfully asked if I could vacate the land for redevelopment, and I accepted that my journey was to continue elsewhere because nothing in life is permanent, except for the genetic spacesuit we inhabit until we take our final breath, when it returns back to the earth - if we choose to be buried.

So, to cut an entire autobiography short I ended up back here in the material world, where compared to the beginning of this journey I now have nothing. I am comfortably off rather than rich, and if anything I am a far wealthier person in my own skin than I could ever be back in the day with all that money.

[danjo-ao3]

Betwixt pt. 1

Din Djarin x Paz Viszla x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Reader-Insert, Threesome - F/M/M, Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, Top!Paz, bottom!Din, Bottom!Reader, Paz is kind of a dick but not really, Din is ever the gentleman, Violence, mentions of an abusive relationship

Summary: AU – Din and Paz are working together to capture their newest quarry: you

Part 1 / 2

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You are running. Running through back streets and alleys, trying to find a hiding spot–without luck. As if it isn’t dangerous enough on Tatooine, you now have some bounty hunters chasing you down while the suns are setting no less. Soon you won’t see shit. 

Two sets of feet are very close behind and you yelp in fear. They can’t catch you, if they do you’ll be back with… him and you will never let that happen. 

Around a corner you stop for a second, examining a door in front of you. It looks sturdy, but most of all closed and any pulling or pushing doesn’t get you any farther. Quickly, you whirl around and come face to face with one of the bounty hunters who raises his right arm at you, ready to fire his blaster. His shiny metal armor and helmet almost give you a heart attack. 

“Shit,” you exclaim. “A Mandalorian?”

You weren’t able to get a good look at your pursuers yet, you were too busy running away. 

Layn really sent a kriffing Mandalorian after you. You know the man has credits, but that much? He really wants you back, huh?

Heart hammering in your chest, you look around to try and find a way out. To your left is a low wooden fence you just might be able to climb. But as you stare at it, another armor clad hunter appears directly behind it, blaster raised, effectively cutting off your last chance at escape.

So it’s two kriffing Mandalorians. Your day can’t get any worse. 

You plaster yourself against the durasteel door behind you, feeling along it to find some kind of hatch, but no luck. 

“Easy,” the Mandalorian in front of you speaks up, his voice muted and altered through the vocoder in his helmet, his blaster pointing right at you. 

Slowly, you raise your hands in surrender, your eyes darting between the two men. 

“Alright,” you answer. “But lower your weapon. I’m unarmed.”

And to your surprise, he does. With a flick of his wrist the blaster is back in its holster and he steps towards you with slow, measured steps while pulling out a pair of cuffs. 

As your eyes fall to the restraining device your fight or flight response kicks in. Just as he gets close enough to bind you, you drop to the side and dodge him as he tries to grab you. You hear him connecting with the metal door as you dash forward to the exit of the alley, only to fall face first into the dirt, splitting your lip in the process. 

Something snuck around your leg and brought you to the ground. As you turn over you see a thin wire connecting your ankle to the Mandalorian’s vambrace. He grabs fistfuls of the wire and starts to haul you in towards himself. With a yell you try to hold on to your surroundings, reaching for random stuff lying about, but nothing is substantial enough to help you. 

Before you know it, you're lying at the man’s feet, dirt clinging to you everywhere, you spit out the blood and sand in your mouth. You want to lash out at him, but again a blaster in your face halts you. The other Mando is also standing over you now, his shoulders slightly shaking in laughter. 

“She got you good, Din,” he chuckles through his vocoder. This one is built differently, bulkier and he has blue paint chipping away from his armor. 

“Shut up,” the one called Din grumbles at the other, bending down to finally put the cuffs around your wrists. He is doing it with harsh movements, obviously upset at your escape attempt. The sound of them clicking closed and sealing your fate makes you nauseous. 

“Please, don’t.” You say, testing the cuffs. “I can’t go back to him. He will kill me.” 

But there is no pause as he grabs your forearm to hurl you from the ground and then pushes you forward, leading you towards the streets. 

“Try anything funny again and I’ll carbo-freeze you,” Din says and that immediately shuts you up. 

“Now I understand why the guy spends so much to find her,” the other one says to his comrade, trying but unsucceeding in lowering his voice enough to not be overheard, before taking you over and walking in front to lead the way. 

You wonder what he means by that, but then he turns his head, pointedly looking at your face and when he sees you peering back at him, his visor tilts down toward the rest of your body, effectively checking you out. 

What the hell?

“We will deliver her as quickly as possible, Paz.” The Mando currently pushing you along answers in clipped tones. 

“Just saying,” the one called Paz replies and leaves it at that for the rest of the way. 

Now that it is night, the temperature dropped considerably and you shiver in your thin silk tunic. Before you, the ramp to a ship is lowering, the inside illuminated and welcoming. It just isn’t to you. You don’t want to get on that ship, you want to be free. 

“Please, you have to let me go,” you try again to reason with Din who just pushes you away from him to signal you to board the ship. Still standing on the ramp, Paz reaches out and grabs your arm, leading you inside. 

“No can do, princess,” Paz answers and waits for Din to come on board before pushing the button that closes the ramp. It shuts with a dull thump, your heart in your throat now. 

“I’m not a princess,” you can’t help but retort defiantly, angered at the man's attitude towards you. 

“You certainly look like one,” he answers and pulls you along. 

The fine silk clothes you’re wearing probably were the reason everyone immediately identified you as not belonging on Tatooine. You aren’t even wearing them voluntarily… 

Hot tears are gathering in your eyes, but you manage to sniff them away when you’re being led deeper into the ship. Lights flicker around you in many different colors as you’re approaching a metal ladder leading upwards. Din comes up behind you and Paz, gesturing for Paz to climb up first, but the man just pulls you to the side and motions for Din to go first. 

The silver Mando shakes his head briefly, then he is climbing the ladder in swift movements. You watch him disappear from view, when you feel Paz draw closer. 

“After you, princess,” he says, then nudges you forward. Uncertainly, you glance at the cuffs around your wrists and wonder how you’re supposed to get up. But you actually manage to climb, counting on your reflexes when having to let go of a bar and grabbing the next. When you reach the top you have to lean against the wall for a moment, that was straining. Especially with that other Mando watching your every move… 

Just as you finish that thought Paz’ helmet emerges from the hatch. The bulky man barely fits through the small opening, but he manages with a certain amount of grace. 

There is a door in the front that reveals the ship’s cockpit and a view of nighttime Tatooine. A silver helmet gleams in the dull light of the cockpit’s numerous small lamps where Din sits in the pilot’s seat, already pressing buttons and flicking switches as the ship is coming to life around you. 

“Have a seat,” Paz mumbles from behind and pushes you into one of the two spare seats behind the pilot’s. You land in it with an oomph, casting a glare in Paz’ direction for manhandling you like that. He doesn’t react to it at all, though. Instead, he moves towards Din. 

“You think we can make it before sunrise?”

“I am certain of it,” Din answers confidently, almost done with prepping the ship. 

They talk quietly amongst themselves as you stare ahead, unseeing. Thoughts swarm in your head. What will Layn do when you get back? You ran for a reason, you got betrothed to him because of pure greed. The man is one of the most influential businessmen on Coruscant, and your family owns the last independent trading company. Your father was all too eager to make a deal with him and thus you were promised to marry Layn D’urano. Nobody asked you of course. 

The first time you met him he made clear what he expects of a wife. Complete obedience and devotion, of course you instantly hated him. When you told him that you would not be treated like that he actually almost strangled you. So you seized the first opportunity and fled, ending up on Tatooine with the nice clothes your mother had chosen for you to wear. 

And now here you are, not gone for a week and already captured again. You hold your head in your bound hands, uncaring if the Mandalorians see you, as the ship takes off into space. 

When you look up again later and wipe at your face you see that Paz slid into the other seat and is watching you. 

Quickly, you avert your eyes again, unsure what the man’s interest in you is. 

“Come here,” he suddenly says when you least expect it. Why would he want you to go to him? You shift in your seat, wringing your hands in front of you. There is something about the Mando that makes you uneasy. 

“Don’t be shy,” he teases and you can’t help a small blush form on your cheeks. Flirting of any kind always makes you turn to mush inside, you never were able to be suave or cool about it. But these are different circumstances, you need to be on high alert, try to flee at any given moment. 

“Why?” You ask in a small voice, eyes shifting from Paz to Din and back, the silver Mando apparently uncaring about what his friend is doing. 

Paz produces a small bacta vaporizer and shows it to you. “That cut looks nasty, you should treat it.”

Oh. How thoughtful?

“Um, thanks.” You lift from the seat and reach for the vaporizer, but Paz doesn’t let go of it. Instead, he pulls you out of the seat completely so you stumble towards him. 

“Let me,” he murmurs as he lifts an arm and cups your face in his gloved hand, his thumb brushes over your chin and then your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from the sting of your wound. “Hm yes, quite nasty,” he comments as he lets go of you again and instead pats his thigh. 

Does he expect you to sit in his lap?

You want to protest, but he just dangles the vaporizer in front of your face, making it clear that you will not get the bacta without him. For a second you consider just going back to your seat, but now that he reopened the cut it started to bleed and sting again. What a dick. 

In the corner of your eye you see the slightest shift in Din as his helmet swivels toward you, but before you can stall any longer, Paz pulls you down and you land sitting across his lap. It’s not warm and soft as laps should be, but rather hard and cold from the armor the man is wearing. It’s pretty uncomfortable.

“There, now hold still.”

Paz gently holds your chin in his left hand again while bringing the bacta vaporizer up and toward your mouth. You watch warily as he does it, then flinch a little as the bacta spray hits your cut. It stings at first, but then it warms against your skin very quickly, you can already feel its effect. You sigh through your nose at the relief.

Paz is still watching you through the dark T of his visor, laying down the vaporizer in a small nook in the wall. He is also still holding your chin, and as you become aware of it, you stiffen against him. 

“Good girl,” he coos at you then, and the blush you had before returns full force, the stiffness in your body turning into slight tremors instead. Why is he doing this?

His free hand lands on your knee, the leather strangely warm through your leggings. Again you gasp as it travels higher up to rest on your thigh. 

“W–wait,” you breathe, bringing your bound hands up against his chest. 

His thumb is brushing over your lip again, but this time it doesn’t sting; the bacta worked its magic. 

“Such a pretty thing,” Paz murmurs and pulls you closer to him, your arms feel like jelly where they’re still pressed against him. 

“Paz,” Din suddenly speaks up in a warning tone. 

Paz chuckles as he regards you through the visor, his voice crackling. “He’s jealous,” he tells you, and even though you can’t see his face you somehow know that he winks at you. 

“What are you doing?” You half whisper, now eager to get off the man’s lap again.

“Yeah, what are you doing? Need I remind you that she’s our quarry ?” Din sounds pissed as he flips switches behind you. 

“Come on, Din. I haven’t had a pretty girl in my lap in weeks. Cut me some slack, promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Cut it out, Vizsla. I’m not telling you again.”

That makes Paz look up at Din, something calculating about the way his helmet tilts. 

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll carbo-freeze the girl.”

“No!” You exclaim and start to struggle to get off of Paz’ lap. Being frozen would make any attempt at fleeing impossible, plus you really don’t want to find out what it is like to be suspended in carbonite while still being conscious but unable to move. That’s the stuff of nightmares. 

“I’m not going to hurt her.” Paz isn’t letting up, he easily outmaneuvers your feeble attempts at escaping his strong arms. 

You cry out when you’re suddenly grabbed from behind by a very upset Din who drags you down the hatch into the belly of the ship. As you near the many slates of their bounties frozen in carbonite you start begging.

“No, please don’t freeze me!” Tears are burning your eyes, you absolutely don’t want this to happen. 

But Din pushes you into the open chamber and is ready to push the button, when he hesitates. You stare at him wide-eyed and with wet cheeks when he shakes his head and pulls you out again so you land against his beskar clad chest. 

“It’s not your fault,” he sighs, observing you through the black visor. “Paz has a problem with keeping it in his pants. Just stay down here and out of his sight. There is a ‘fresher nearby if you want to get cleaned up.” He releases you then and you can’t actually believe that he didn’t freeze you after all. 

“Thank you,” you sniffle, and seeing Din in such a forgiving mood makes you wonder how far you may be able to push it. “The man who pays you to fetch me, he’s going to–”

“No,” Din cuts you short and pushes you out of the way. “Enough of that. You’ll do as I say or end up frozen. Make up your mind.”

You swallow around a painful lump in your throat but step down. The silver Mando’s cape swishes at his feet as he walks away, then he’s climbing up the ladder into the cockpit once more. 

Feeling small and wrung out you go to the ‘fresher and clean yourself with semi warm water that leaves you freezing. 

After beating the dust out of your clothes and putting them back on you open the door to a small cranny that consists of a small dresser and a cot where you sit on and sniffle back tears, wondering what Layn will do once you’re back in his clutches. 

***

“Finally,” Layn hisses when his eyes fall on you, as you stand small and depressed, shackled between the two Mandalorians. Hurried steps move toward you, the way he comes at you makes you take a step back in fear. 

Paz’ hand on your shoulder stops you though, it’s grounding in its heaviness. Final. 

A dry sob escapes you when Layn comes to a stop, he’s already reaching out towards you, but Din’s outstretched arm stops him short. 

“Payment first,” he says curtly. 

Layn squints at the silver Mando with a look of distaste on his face. “Right,” he sneers and snaps his fingers. A brass colored protocol droid in a far corner comes forward, bearing a tray with five calamari flan. Wow, no wonder they were so keen to collect you. “Here, just as promised.”

Paz steps forward and takes the gel like discs from the droid with one hand before they disappear in one of his pockets. 

“Now, if you would be so kind,” Layn says with a sickly sweet, false smile and points at the cuffs on your wrists. Din presses a button on his vambrace and the cuffs click open for him to remove from your person. You should be relieved about their absence, but all you feel is emptiness.

Then Layn’s hand curls around your upper arm, digging in painfully and drags you away from between the two bounty hunters, pushing you with force toward a side exit while you try not to stumble. 

You give Din and Paz a final pleading look, but it’s impossible to tell what the Mandos might think under their helmets and armor. So you glare at them instead before they disappear from view entirely and you’re being dragged along a hallway towards the sleeping chambers. 

Layn smashes the door closed behind you two after you enter a beautifully decorated room. No two seconds later he backhands you so hard you fall to the floor and the world is spinning. 

“You kriffing whore , I should have you killed for running away. Nobody runs from Layn D’urano.” He yells at you while you turn to him, holding your throbbing cheek. 

“Good, I’d rather die than marry you!”

Eyes bulging at your insubordination, his hand already draws back to strike you again, but then there are blaster shots to be heard from outside the door, halting him mid swing. 

The door comes crashing down, Paz simply kicked it down and is now standing on the ruined piece of wood, blaster smoking as he raises it towards Layn. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Layn froths at the mouth, fumbling for his own hidden blaster behind his back. But before he can so much as draw it, Din whirls around the corner of the door frame and shoots him in the head. 

Layn falls to the ground like a puppet whose strings got cut, right next to you. You crawl away from his body, too shocked for words and look back up at Din as he comes inside the room, hand outstretched towards you in invitation. 

You take it without hesitation, still unbelieving of what is happening. Paz is walking past you as Din nears the exit with you. The bulky Mando reaches into his pockets and takes out the calamari flan to throw them at Layn’s corpse. 

Together, you three make your way out of the estate, a few security droids hot on your heels. Din and Paz are firing at them while you all run towards their ship. One blaster shot grazes your calf and you scream at the burning sensation as you drop to the ground. Paz’ strong arms gather you up and carry you the rest of the way while you desperately cling to him.

The ship’s ramp is lowering just as you reach it, Din in the front giving Paz and you cover as the big Mando carries you into the ship. 

Once inside, Paz brings you further into the ship to where you crashed on their cot and sets you down gently as you can already hear and feel the ship getting ready to take off. 

“You alright?” He asks as he squats in front of you and takes a good look at your injured leg. 

“Hurts,” you hiss through gritted teeth, and Paz is already up and gone for just a quick second before he returns with a bacta injector. 

“This might sting a bit,” he murmurs before injecting the bacta into the muscle of your calf. You manage not to cry out at the pain, not wanting to appear weak in front of Paz. 

“That should do the trick,” he says as he places the empty bacta injector aside. 

“Thank you,” you sigh and fall back against the wall, now pain-free and suddenly very tired. 

“Think you can manage, princess?” His nickname for you makes you smile dazedly, you let yourself fall to the side and rest your head against the thin pillow. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

A rough blanket is being pulled over you, then gloved fingers push some of the hair away from your face before they grab your chin softly. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you stare at Paz under your lashes, sleep trying to claim you any second now. 

“Bastard had it coming,” Paz comments as his eyes must fall on the imprint Layn’s hand left on your cheek.

“I’m glad he’s dead.”

Paz chuckles at your sleepy admission. 

“So am I,” he says and pats your head once before turning away and disappearing from your field of vision entirely.

__________________________ 

A/N: Omg lmfao I tried to post this and then it didn’t and then it did and now I’m confused.

Anyway, part two is already finished, thanks for anyone who was kind enough to read, like and reblog haha!

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 16

A/N: Whoever was the anon that told me to do a Mulciber x reader from this- I hate you and love you at the same time. Goddamn! God-fucking dammit I love myself some evil characters. Also, no gif for this because I don’t have time because I have to get to work in like 20 minutes and I’m still in my bath robe. Hope you like it babes and mwa <3

XX

‘ You walked into the classroom, empty as it was, so was your head. You hadn’t studied for this exam- was it Charms?

“The test will begin now.” you heard Professor Slughorn say as he waved his wand and the exam papers flew open to the first page.

Your eyes had gotten more confused. This wasn’t Charms, nor Potions... was this math? You looked up at the professor with your heart racing fastly, then your anxiety leading into frustration. You looked down for a pencil and you had not pencil, nor quill, no any other pen.

“Are you joking?” you heard someone laugh from a seat behind you.

You turned around with a panic, thought the paper exam disappeared in front of you and so did the professor. The classroom was empty, your soul started to become more soothing.

There; at the desk behind you sat a boy with his eyes, green as the colour could be, he kept chuckling, tilting his head back and running his hands through his dense curly hair until they rested behind his head. His smile was wide, his teeth perfectly straight and the corners of his mouth had perfect lines with dimples far in the middle of his cheeks.

“Mulciber?”

“You’re dreaming Hogwarts? And professor Slughorn?” he continued to laugh, putting his feet on the top of the desk.

And it was as if the tension you felt from your dreams, the control that you were not able to grasp before, was now in your hands and your hands were on the wheel. You could move your hands and you could stand up as if you were in the real world.

“You’re a Legilimen- and the dreamer one and you cannot control your dreams?” he kept looking at you and with your eyes solely focus on him, the background of your dreams changed back to the same place when he first visited.

“I’m starting my training soon.”

“Soon?” he scoffed. “Soon as in when school starts and then probably in the mid-October when that piss off Mad Eye Moody decides to actually mentor you?”

“He’s a great Auror.”

“He’s a drunk!” Mulciber started to get frustrated. “And would only waste your potential. You know what he would do to you?” he started to take steps towards you. “He would restrict you of all the things you could do with your gift and your gift- the gift we both share. It has no limits.” he was now close to you, whispering with greed and desire.

“You’re talking about black magic.”

“I’m talking about magic, darling.” he stepped away, jumping on the rocks that seemed to appear only in a second. “There is no good magic, bad magic. There is just magic and there are only bad wizards and good wizards.” he turned around on the last stone and kept looking at you with his eyes blazing into your soul. He jumped off, changing his whole energy into this playful, yellow aura that you could feel so lightly.

“And what do you propose?”

“You know exactly what I propose?” he walked to the edge of the cliff, looking as the sun started to set. “I know you’re considering it, so let’s speed this up-”

He was suddenly in front of you- in a flash. “I don’t want-”

“Yes, you do.” he was growling at you with eyes that screamed danger. “I’ve taken a notice in you, (Y/n) Potter since the moment you stepped onto that train- even before. “ he started. “With your pig tails that you took off the moment you got on the train, I knew you and me are meant to be connected.”

“Connected?” you laughed.

“Haven’t your mother told you about your ancestors, (y/n)?” he asked and your smile immediately faded. “Haven’t you ever wondered where you got this gift from? From who?” he continued to pull your curiousity, word after word. “You think you’re the first of the family? Why your mother acts so tense?”

“You’re-”

“I’m not lying. You know I can’t lie in dreams- and not with you since we’re connected.”

“We are not connected.”

“We are. The moment you let me into your head and the moment I let you into mine, you and me made a soul contract, darling. This isn’t the 3D world, love. This is much more greater than that. This is 5D. This is more than magic, more than anybody else could think. This are unlimited minds, thoughs, emotions, intensity, secrets to life, secrets to magic, secrets of people-”

“And you’re using it for evil.”

“I’m using it for my own personal gain. You would too.”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you would.”

“You don’t-”

“Let me finish.” he pressed his hand on top of your mouth gently, his other hand on your hip and squeezing you tenderly as his body pressed against yours. He was looking down on you with eyes, filled with lust and desire. The would wander on you for only a moment before he would speak in his voice low, almost like a hungry wolf talking down its prey. “The train ride was hopeful. I knew you’d be in Slytherin but you never were. You were a hat-stall. Two long minutes of indecisiveness and I was tensed because I needed you to be in Slytherin but you asked the Hat to put you in Gryffindor because of your brother-”

“I-” you tried to speak, your eyes furrowing angrily.

“Shhh.” he hushed you down, leaning forward until his lips were pressing onto his own palm as if they wanted to kiss you into silence. “I’m talking, remember?” he said with dominance. “But I knew you were a Slytherin. I saw how you managed to do everything by yourself. To pull yourself from the depth- I could have felt you dying inside for a year, filling yourself with pills-” your eyes widened and for a moment you looked away. “And I wanted to reach out to you so desperately because how you felt, I felt. It wasn’t easy but my father wouldn’t let me. He said it’s a test for you- a test you passed. You pulled yourself out by yourself, you took your own pain and turned it into something good- something great. Oh, I knew you and me will become the unstoppable pair just like our ancestors.” he smiled. “But that’s for another day.” he winked and pushed himself away from you, turning you his back.

“You-” you started to talk but felt like you couldn’t breathe. “You knew about-”

“Of course, I knew. I felt you. Your year was my year. Year of torture.” he seethed through his teeth. “I wanted to murder you, you know? You put me in such misery back then.”

“Then why didn’t you? You could have done me a favour.”

“Because I’d screw up my life if I ended yours.” he let out a laugh. “Seeing you in the hall- Merlin, you were so pathethic and sad. It almost made me cry.”

You felt something bubble inside of your stomach, a ball forming in your throat as tears wanted to push themselves from their eyes but you only swallowed thickly and felt the anger bubble.

“Seeing you trying to emotionally fulfil yourself with torturing others, bullying them because you weren’t pleased with yourself, beating Sirius because he rebelled towards his family and you couldn’t, made me almost cry too.” you snapped at him and his eyes widened. There was pure surprise on his face but it started to resemble much more like pride.

“And then came the passion.” he continued to smile, walking down to you. “When I saw you standing up to your brother and his friends, when I saw you hate them as much as I hated them, oh I knew you and me were about to have so much fun in the futrue and I have been patient so the day you reached out to me was the day that I had been waiting on.”

“Reached out to you?”

“The day at the woods. I read the book, you were in the bed- who do you think created that scene in your head. Who do you think pulled you out, dummy? You think I wanted the Dark Lord to take you away from me like that. No, I had to scare you away from him. I had to tip off that piss off twat to come and rescue you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Merlin, (y/n)? Are you really that daft?” he continued to laugh. “Or just naive? Or just ignorant? Me and you are connected. When you were dying on the ground, your soul reached out to me- because of our ancestors- because we are the reicarnation-”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“Am I?” he opened his arms. “You and me were meant to be- when we’re together, we’re stronger but first-” he started to walk towards you. “-first you need to learn what I had learn and the best was to do that is with my help.”

And he was right. Despite how much you did not want it to be him, you wanted this for yourself. You wanted to see where this gift or curse or whatever it was, lead you to. You wanted to unlock every single potential in your body and he knew so much. He knew so much more and he had told you everything in just these short period of time meanwhile your own mother was holding back your family secret. You had always been the odd one out and you could never figure out why but now since you had found out that one of your ancestors were just like you- you trusted him more. You wanted him to be the one to teach you because he was the only one who did not lie to you and you were just so sick of people lying to you, constantly to your face. It was tiring and you wanted this. You had the need for this and it may have sounded heartless but you didn’t care about your family at the moment. All you cared about was you and your comfort and your future.

“Meet me at the bar down the Muggles street tonight.” he was close to you because he already knew the answer to his proposal. “I want to see you in person.” he touched your cheek with his soft hand, looking at you with eyes so caring. “Wear something... edgy.” he winked, starting to back away as you just wanted to reach out for his warm hand. ‘

The moment you blinked was the moment you woke up in the dark room. You sat up and looked around- letting something catch your eye at the window. You walked to it and found a ripped piece of parchment on the shelf.

“Don’t drink your coffee this morning, darling.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing as the letters had burnt out and changed it shape. “Don’t you trust me?” it said on it and you rolled your eyes, laughing.

“Said the scorpion to the the frog.” you told yourself.

“And then they both drowned.” said the parchment. “We’re in this together, darls. Keep that in mind.” and the parchement burnt itself, poofing into dust and resolving into thin air.

[mithrilwren]

So, uh, I got three hours of sleep last night and this was basically the first post I saw when I woke up and my brain is pretty much mush at this point anyway… so… Vokodo/Dragon Turtle? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

Sharks know not to swim too close to Rumblecusp - where the surf is a degree too cold, where the waters shimmers and spouts into the sky, where alien fish float on currents that run the wrong way, and scrounge their food amidst shards of obsidian ruin.

He is no shark. His course is not dictated by instinct. He is not moved by strange goings on above land - he has plumbed the ocean’s depths, and found stranger things by far, and claimed them all as his own.

He takes what he desires, no matter where it resides. The ocean is his, to traverse and plunder at his whim.

And all the while, above the line of breaking swells where the air meets the sea, the island takes too.

---

The ship is the latest catch, brought to keel on Rumblecusp’s shore, and he feasts long into the night, and well. Belly warm with the fat stores of a heavy laden hold, he drifts below the surface, savouring the taste of gold beneath his tongue.

This is the first time the island speaks to him. Within the bubble of its rising ire, the water rakes at his scales, scalding heat pouring from lava vents below. Not enough to injure, not to a creature such as him. Only enough to warn.

You have taken what does not belong to you. Return what you stole, or face my wrath.

And beneath the surface, a loose-hinged jaw curls back, and coins spill from the corners to the ocean floor below, drawing up clouds of silt around his clawed feet.

He does not need to speak, to know he has been heard.

Everything belongs to me.

---

The shoels of the island are a bounty of spoils. Sailors bring their boats, and do not return. He feasts, and takes from their cargo at his leisure, though the island grumbles its dissent at every turn. The water grows foul with ashy sediment, and he’s forced to leave, for a time, but soon the waters clear and the ships return, and the shores of Rumblecusp are filled with easy prey once more.

He grows weary, of the ease.

The hunt beckons, and he follows the scent of tougher blood, far into open water.

And it is satisfying.

For a time.

---

When he returns, he does not plunder.

He watches. He observes. He hunts, with the patience of the barred ghoul that lurks in the sand, waiting for its prey to swim overhead.

On the seventh day, the waterfall splits, and a ship he did not take passes into the depths beyond.

He follows.

The water closes at his back, which does not alarm him. He has forded the ocean’s eddies, born the scar of a wizard’s spell, met his match in the fiercest storms. He does not fear to traverse the waterfall. Powerful as it might be, it will find him more than suited to the challenge.

The steerers of the ship balk and run when they see him enter - no dead-eyed, glassy stare can withstand the fearful awe of his presence, but he pays them no mind as they flee to cower in the crevasses of the stone cavern. His eyes are only for the armada that surrounds him - the wealth of ships to take as his own.

Again, the island speaks. The ground rumbles, and the sailors wail, and he turns his ear to the direction of the quakes. Further in, beyond the orange glow.

When he submerges once more, he smells sulfur in the water.

Sulfur, and gold.

---

There are passages, hewn by time or by pressure, that lead to the island’s center. They are too small to contain him, and so he carves his own path, rock giving way to the relentless force of sinew and nail and gnashing tooth, until the flowers are rent asunder and scattered in his wake. The water froths and churns its anger at the carnage. He pays it little mind.

Gold, he smells, and jewels as well, and the electric sting of magic colouring it all with a flavour most pleasing. If he had known the island hid such a delicious pearl of treasure within, he would have claimed it for his own long ago.

He breaks at last into an open chamber, the ceiling above embroiled in shadows. The most dangerous things lurk in the darkest places of the ocean, and so he waits to see what will emerge.

One tentacle, then two, snake their way out of the darkness, lithe as the fluttering arm of the jellyfish, as beautiful and as liable to sting. He keeps his distance, waiting still. Patience is not a thing he lacks.

Offer tribute, or choose to die here.

The temperature rises to scalding, and though the burns begin to seep past even his protective shell, he does not bend his neck.

Who are you, that I should offer tribute?

A growl or a roar sounds from above, as the rock of the cavern begins to give way.

I am the Lord of Exandria, the god of this island. Interloper, you have taken what is not yours. Repay, or die.

Three tentacles lash out, curling around the base of his throat and tightening fast.

He does not resist, as the tendrils test their strength against his scales, and find themselves unable to penetrate a single line of armor. He lets himself be pulled up, drifting closer and closer to the heady scent of gold. Two flaring, fiery eyes flicker into view, mere specks of light in the darkness. The water around them shimmers with heat, and more precious things.

“I take what I want,” he speaks, and reaches into the darkness as he wheels around and dives backwards. His claws rake over a body of many appendages, none strong enough to cling to the roof’s surface in the face of such overwhelming force as he drives them both to the bottom of the cavern. They spin in the air until he is atop the creature, pinning it to the floor when the sediment settles.

All around float glittering coins as the creature stares up with eyes burning as bright as the deepest amber, brighter even than the fire that burns all around them, setting the water ablaze.

The tentacle around his throat tightens, and tightens once more, until his beak is brought low to the creature’s own, until the scent of gold fades from prominence, until all he can smell is wealth, and hunger, and desire, and greed.

A deeper desire awakens, for the first time in many, many years, and a wave of images begins to fill his mind, scene after scene after scene. From the onslaught, only two words need be gleaned, to understand that the creature’s realization matches his own.

‘Then take.’

// And then they had whatever hot, kinky morkoth x dragon turtle sex you’d like to imagine, because I tried to for about 0.5 seconds before my brain short circuited and I decided it was probably time for bed.