#Words are being thrust upon Mine Own Eyes

[izutsoupmi]

also i think it's wonderful that there's now enough people in the fandom for me to scoff haughtily at their misinterpretations of the story and characters

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hii i love ur blog, Could u do a scenario where Itachi meets one of sasukes friends and he takes advantage of her and corrupts her mind?

tw: noncon, genjutsu, evil!itachi, mind break, age difference, corruption, mind control, forced orgasm, abuse

All characters depicted are 18+

Itachi has a habit on keeping an eye on Sasuke from afar when he isn't on missions for the Akatsuki, wanting to make sure his little brother is safe. While he's glad that his little brother is making friends who care about him, one of those friends of his is making him soft, leading Sasuke off the path of revenge, and Itachi doesn't like that one bit.

Surely Sasuke won't mind if Itachi takes one of his friends away from him, he already has that knucklehead boy and pink haired girl for companionship, and Sasuke should be used to Itachi taking things away from him by now, he's sure his little brother will survive losing one more thing.

Getting his hands on her is almost too easy, he is the Itachi Uchiha after all, so snatching up a weak little chunin girl and taking here somewhere more private is absolutely nothing for him. Now that he has her alone, he's going to make sure she never interferes with his plans for his little brother ever again.

Just one glance with his Sharingan is enough to seal her fate, trapping her in a genjutsu that forces her to obey him against her own will, and which also makes her body and mind more responsive to his words and touch alone, and nobody else's.

"Resistance is futile, little one. You're already under my genjutsu, and that means you're now mine..."

It's incredibly amusing to watch her struggle against such a powerful genjutsu, watching her try to resist the way her pussy gets soaking wet and tight around his cock as he forces it inside of her slippery cunt, and the way she resists but to no avail to free herself from the hold he has over her mind, but he has already won, and she's completely under his control.

Due to the control he has over her mind and body, all the sensations she is feeling will be amplified tenfold, every thrust making her entire body shake, overwhelming pleasure shooting up from every corner of her body as he pounds into her while whispering cruel words into her ear, telling her to abandon her friends and to stop interfering with his plans, and she is unable to resist any of his commands.

She won't be able to tell how much time has passed since he started fucking her, since Itachi's genjutsu also changes her perception of how much time has passed, he could be fucking her for hours or minutes and she'd feel like its been days of her being fuck brutally and forced to orgasm nonstop.

She'll still be under the influence of his genjutsu for a while longer when he finally pulls out of her, leaving her cunt gaped and stuffed full of his sperm before he gives her an order, and since she's still within his thrall, she physically won't be able to resist his demands.

"There, maybe that will teach you to be a good little girl and mind your own business... Now stay away from my little brother unless you want this to happen again..."

Once he's done he'll just leave her there, perhaps somewhere that Sasuke could possibly happen upon her in that state, since it would not only cause the younger to lose faith in his so-called friend, but it would also increase his hatred.

[creganslover]

Woman Like You

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem! Warrior! Reader

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Skilled as a warrior like your husband, you both made the dangerous pair... the latest battle proves just how much you mean to him.

Word count: 1.6k

Warning/s: canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of blood and death, near character death, cregan being whipped for his woman

Note: loved making this omg

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

It had been a harrowing battle, not knowing left from right, up from down as bodies rallied against one another, the clash and clinging of swords ringing in your ears, horses whinnying as their rider had been dismounted only to be slain. 

The amount of bodies falling over with no longer a life to them, and there you also stood fighting, a female warrior, married to Cregan Stark, the two of you making the dangerous pair through your cunning skills and Cregan’s exposure to battle.

Now both of you were fighting under the Queen Rhaenyra’s banners, honouring the oath Rickon Stark, Cregan’s late father had made under Viserys’ proclamation for Rhaenyra as his heir. 

Before the battle had started, you were in your shared tent with Cregan, as the troops were began to be rounded up to march, a thousand of his greybeards and your own army of blackwings, the two of you preparing each other in their armour, the action done in silence as you both strapped your gears on. 

It was Cregan’s hand grabbing your wrist that made you halt your movements, your eyes finally meeting his. Both of you had trusted each other out and in the field, though both of you knew every battle forward had counted, and that you would treat it as the last. 

“Promise you will return to me.” Cregan’s husky voice spoke in a whisper, staring you down with a tender gaze, blue flecked with hazel eyes searching yours, grip momentarily tightening on your wrist to travel down to squeeze your hand. As done countless times, you reply, “Always.” Never failing to give him a smile, making him mirror it with a chuckle of relief at your reassurance. 

Until you had gotten separated from your husband in the heat of the battle, you two had held out well even when separated yet it felt like the enemies had just kept on coming, banging the end of your shield at your attacker’s face, sending them lunging back as you thrusted your sword in their stomach, cutting clean through before you had pulled it off, flecks of blood spraying as the man hurled in pain, dropping to the ground.

You had not known how long the battle had raged for, all that you knew was your muscles had begun to strain, dodging and putting on the offence as you could, dirt and blood scattered everywhere. 

Successfully putting down another opponent, another came rushing to you, sword slicing part of your arm, making you cry out as they had also managed to land a hard blow to your side, that would surely be a nasty bruise. 

Still, you were not as easily felled as they thought, managing to regain back your senses, adrenaline pumping within your veins as your grip on your sword had tightened, letting out a yell as you swung and advanced, hitting left to right, sword slicing efficiently at the man’s side as you threw your broken shield away, holding your sword, Ashbringer, in both hands before thrusting it upon the man’s neck, blood running down the steel of your sword before pulling it out. 

That’s when a series of arrows had been launched into the sky, not knowing which was which as you tried to deflect some by grabbing your shield yet again, though an arrow had already dug itself onto the back of your shoulder, making you groan, using your strength to cover yourself with your shield as the arrows had landed. 

When the arrows had stopped, your mind had fogged, vividly you saw Cregan’s face in your mind as the words he had uttered to you hours before rang. 

Return to me 

・・・・・

Cregan had litters of bodies lay around him as he became the opposing side’s target, knowing his worth and they had intended to cut him off. His broad form swung his sword Ice, not opting for a shield as it only hindered his movements. 

His men yelled around him, his graybeards killing tens of the opponents as they had only managed to fell a few of Cregan’s men. They were winning, they had the upper hand. Cregan only needed to push a little further, and all of this would cease. 

“The Lady!” 

“Keep Fighting!”

“Arrows inbound!”

Cregan felt his blood suddenly run hot, head snapping around him as the shouts grew in intensity, until his eyes spot a distant blur. You as he looked to the sky to find rains of arrows, making Cregan react and haul a body from the ground, using it as his shield as bouts of arrows pierced through its body, his eyes wide and alert and searching for you. 

He was able to see you defending yourself, staggering, an arrow on the back of your shoulder, the pained look on your face.

Cregan saw red. 

The rumbling in his chest grew to a roar as he screamed, throwing the arrow-clad body to the ground before he shouted. “You want me? Come get me!” 

Enemies turned their heads towards him as Cregan swung Ice at the oncoming assailants, ignoring the burning in his whole body as he and his sword had moved as once, determined to get to you, his wife. He was covered in dirt and blood that wasn’t his, except for the minor cuts on his face, and the bruises he had felt forming onto his body. 

Alas his enemies fell one by one as his men fought valiantly, Cregan making his way to you as he managed to grab you in time before you fell, careful to handle the arrow still peeking from behind your shoulder. 

The battle had begun to die down, Cregan still holding you in his arms as he looked at you, his heart never wavered in battle nor showed vulnerability before, now it did as he shook you lightly, inspecting you. “(Y/N),” he repeated before his men had spotted the scene, immediately calling for aid. 

“Stay with me, as you promised.” Cregan breathed. 

・・・・・

Darkness. That’s all you could see, with your body feeling light as a feather. 

It felt like you were floating on some void, where it held nothing but peace. You tried reaching out, but a flicker of orange lit in the distance, a smooth glow, followed by the smell of the forest trees, like a campfire. 

You watched as the orange glow began to scatter, spreading the dark void with its own colour, and then you sensed some sort of pull, until it had become stronger. 

Your eyes opened. Blurry at first, blinking a few more moments as everything slowly began to sink in, body feeling numb as you tried to shift on the cot. Looking around your surroundings, you were in your tent, back at camp perhaps? 

A woman stood by the table, preparing her herbs, a healer, you recognized. It was your healer Taisa, and when she had turned around, her eyes widened as she placed the bowl hurriedly back down. “My lady!” She said in surprise, knowing she had been commanded by Lord Stark himself to alert him if his wife had awoken at once. 

Taisa was already running out the tent before you could utter a single word, or yet you were unable to from your body still processing what it had went through.

Your shoulder was bandaged that wrapped around your torso peeking from your loose tunics, along with your left arm that had blood starting to soak through as you moved, making you groan as you assessed yourself. 

Cregan had been manning the map room, along with the other lords and their army in ally, pacing around and spewing all kinds of forms of defenses and offenses, it had been hours since the battle had ceased, taking in few left live opponents as prisoners. 

Cregan was pacing until the tent flap shifted, revealing Taisa, Cregan immediately halting, she had not even uttered a single sound out her mouth. 

You were awake.

“My lords,” Cregan only said as he rounded the table, ducking out the tent as he forced himself to navigate his way to the tent you were in. His heart pounding near his ears as a few steps more he’d be inside, pushing through the flaps, and there you did lay, eyes open, face harbouring an expression of fatigue. 

Cregan wasted no time gliding towards you, taking you in and slowly grabbing your right uninjured hand as he knelt in front of the cot, gaze scanning you all over. “Wife.” His voice faltered. 

“Husband.” You managed to croak out, moving to sit up which Cregan refused to let you but you won in the end, now he was knelt in front of you as you sat. His huge rough hands, rid of their gloves now, enveloped yours, thumb stroking circles upon the back of your hands. 

You lift your right hand, coming to cradle his face, stroking the slight flush on the apple of his cheeks as he let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes, brows knitting as he leaned into your touch, showing his utter devotion to you and you only, making you smile.

“I thought I had lost you.” He voiced, eyes still closed, making you frown. “Look at me, Cregan.” You spoke, slowly regaining your voice back as Cregan’s eyes flickered open, staring into you. 

“You will not lose me, not now, not ever.” You began. “I’d wager it would take more to kill me.” You smirked, finding a way to still lighten a situation upon the brink of what could have been. 

The end of Cregan’s lip tugged upwards in amusement, his features softening as he chuckled, nodding along and finally letting himself relax with the fact that you were okay, you were going to live. He turned his head where your palm cradled his face, pressing his lips upon your palm before looking at you. 

“Aye, you are right. It would take more for a woman like you.”

[annwrites]

⸻ give me your wrists. ⸻

· pairing: dark!jacaerysvelaryon x fem!reader · type: one-shot · summary: jace spoils you in many ways. · tags: cnc, unprotected p in v sex, rope-play, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, oral (f receiving; blink & you'll miss it) · word count: 960

Cool metal slides around your throat, rows of shimmering rubies resting atop your breasts.

Your eyes widen as you stare at yourself in the looking glass. "Jace!"

You swiftly turn around to him, only to find a pleased smirk upon his lips. He knew you would have this reaction. Sometimes you think that's why he does it.

He gently runs his knuckles along your soft, warm cheek. "Yes, my sweet?"

Your hand comes up to caress the jewels. "I don't need rubies. Or—or sapphires, or emeralds, diamonds, or—"

"Pearls, then," he interjects with a raised brow. "No, nevermind that. I already purchased you a string of them. Mayhaps something with amethyst next, then?"

You stare up at him in bewilderment. "Jacaerys, this is too much. All of it."

He firmly grips your chin between his fingertips. "It pleases me to gift you fine things. To spoil you. So let me."

He shrugs. "It is an order. Given by your prince."

You stand, wishing to make him see sense. "The gowns—silk and gossamer and tulle. I cannot so much as wear them outside this room, lest someone suspect. Lest they...lest your mother, or Baela, even, discover I am your—your concubine."

He steps a small step closer, leaning down as his fingers slide along the back of your head, burying themselves in your curls.

"Perhaps I should set her aside, then," he states, leaning down, pressing his lips to your pulse, his experienced tongue flicking against it.

He always does this when you try to have any sort of serious discussion about the potential repercussions for the things the two of you have been doing in his bed.

He distracts you.

With sex.

"You cannot jest about such things," you say, your voice a breathless sigh.

His lips come to hover over your own. "I never stated I was."

He presses his lips to your own then, not wishing to hear further arguments. He desires to have his way with you instead.

Again.

He grips you beneath your thighs, carrying you back over to his mattress—the sheets already covered in the both of you from your early-morning escapades—and he thrusts back inside of you.

He grips your chin in one hand, holding your lips to his as his other fists the soiled sheets while he finds his pleasure inside of you.

His skin slaps against yours, your soft breasts bouncing with every thrust of his long member.

Tears prick your eyes at the feeling of overstimulation.

"Jace," you say quietly, his lips moving back to your neck as your fingers tangle in his hair. "We've been at it all morn. I—Gods—I'm so sore."

He places his lips near your ear. "I'm not nearly satiated, my love."

You whimper, your chin wobbling. "Please."

He kisses your cheek softly, slamming into you, causing you to sob. "Dragons have large appetites. Mine own will require quite a great deal more attention this day."

"How many—mm—more?"

He presses soft kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. "As many as your prince commands."

"I have finished as it is, ah, five times. Please, Jacaerys."

He glances toward the head of the bed, and then back to you. "Do you wish to use our agreed upon word, then?"

You sniffle, considering. And then you shake your head.

"Give me your wrists."

You stare up at him, your lower lip trembling. "Oh, Gods, not again..."

He takes each of them in-hand, slipping them through familiar loops, tightening. He stands, slick cock slipping out of you and bouncing between his thighs as he repeats the same with your ankles at the foot of the bed.

You watch as he begins to stroke himself, a pounding pulse settled between your thighs now.

He runs his thumb along his weeping tip. "Do you not wish to please me?"

A tear slips down your cheek, followed by another. "I do."

"Then this is how you should achieve it. By being at my complete disposal."

He sits on the edge of the bed, slipping two fingers inside your fiery heat, his seed still leaking out of you from earlier.

He arches upward, gently massaging, and your body jerks in response to his touch.

"It hurts, it hurts!"

He ignores your cries as he presses down with his palm, continuing to tease you, fingers slowly easing out and then back in.

"Gods, I don't...ah, I don't think I can take much more."

He leans down, sucking on your clit for a moment before sitting back up. "You've no other choice."

He begins to frantically fuck you then with his long digits, your limbs tightening, pulling against the ropes, but he knows: you are not going anywhere.

Trying to quiet yourself does little good. You alternate between sighs and groans of pain, and squeals of elation.

He circles his thumb over your swollen, pulsating clit and you gasp. "Please stop, not there!"

He ignores your desperate pleas as he continues, your hands twisting around the ropes, your toes curling.

He presses down on your stomach harder and you stare up at him as you cry. "Jace, please!"

"Nearly there. I can always tell," is all he cares to respond with.

You body tightens, your velvet walls quickly contracting.

"Oh Gods, no. No, please! Not again! I can't, not again!"

"Māzigon."

"Gods, please stop!" You scream as you orgasm, liquid spilling from your cunt, further soaking his already damp sheets as the ropes pull taught.

You begin to bawl then. "It hurts so badly. Please, untie me. I am begging you, My Prince."

He leans over you, readying himself. "As I said, it will be as many times as I command."

With that, he submerges himself inside of you, kissing away your tears, mentally making a note to buy you earrings of amethyst as reward on the morrow.

[am-i-interrupting]

May I ask Cult Leader!Viktor with his dear reader, being cuimmuneto and possessive. I imagine Viktor is jealous of the reader in his own way, because someone is flirting with her without her knowing… What would it be like? Will Viktor want to punish the reader (cough, cough, nfsw)?

Handsy Hivemind

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, shared mind, voyeurism, possessive

Having you by his side had been Viktor’s stability. You managed to keep him sane when all the possibilities of reality were overwhelming him.

You were his. He was yours.

This was a sentiment he thought he had made clear in the commune he’d forged. So very obvious it was, with you constantly at his side. His hand on your shoulders. His loving gaze only on you.

However, this seemed to be false as someone had come to you with words sweet as sugar and intent too tainted like oil.

He summoned them. You were confused when they’d come into the place the two of you had begun to call home.

“Do you know why you are hear?” Viktor asked.

“No, I’m afraid not,” they said.

He cut them a glance. An eyebrow raised, quirked with nothing but annoyance.

Do not lie to me.

Their eyes widened as they heard his voice in their head. Their gaze flickered over to you then back at him. Shameful, they went to the floor.

“I apologize, Herald,” they said. “Although, I believe you could show mercy as you must understand the temptation set before me.”

Viktor tilted their head up with a finger to their chin. Your brows furrowed behind him as they met your eyes.

“I am nothing if not merciful,” he promised. “Sit.”

His hand extended to a chair. They walked over. Their hands were folded in their lap. They looked like a child being chastised. Though, they shouldn’t look so glum. They weren’t about to be starved. They were about to feast.

Viktor’s hand grabbed yours and pulled you to your feet. His head bent until his forehead touched your own.

“Viktor,” you said softly, “what’s going on?”

“A lesson,” he replied, “in belongings.”

A question was cut off from your lips as Viktor’s crashed into them. You hummed in surprise. His hand found your jaw and pulled you closer. You stumbled into his chest and onto the couch you fell.

He guided you into his lap. His head tilted upward to hold the kiss. His hands tugged at the bottom of your shirt.

His fingers plunged into your pants, beneath your underwear. His thumb and pinky rested upon your pelvic bone. His pointer and ring fingers spread apart your folds. His middle finger dipped down to your hole. It clutched in response to the contact.

He massaged the rim, pulling out with each clutch more and more slickness. He curled his finger, spreading it. The tip brushed against your clit causing you to moan into the kiss.

It was at then that he broke it. His lips traveled across your cheek and to the back of your ear.

He made eye contact with the one in the seat. At just that moment, he plunged his fingers inside you. Abandoning spreading you open, two fingers pistoned inside.

Mine.

You head was thrown back with your eyes closed.

He kissed and bit at your now exposed neck. His tongue curled as he began to suck. His eyes never wavering.

He went at a fast pace as his fingers repeatedly entered and exited you. You weren’t allowed to catch your breath. Only shaking inhaled and exhales were given to you.

Your hands went to his hair. It bunched up like a halo behind him.

Their hands in their lap began to palm at their crotch. Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

Not allowed.

The hands curled into fists. A blush traveled up their neck to their face. Their eyes went to your head thrown back in bliss, lips parted with every exhale though they couldn’t see it.

Look at me.

It was not a request but a demand. Viktor felt your walls pulse against his fingers as their eyes met.

Mine.

He thrust his fingers as deep as he possibly could. He felt the bundled ball of nerves that always had you quaking. As expected, you let out a small yell.

“Vik!” you weren’t able to utter his entire name like this, too caught in the throes of pleasure.

Your fingers curled into a fist. A tingling trail was left in the wake of your nails against his scalp.

Satisfied with the time he’d spent sucking, he let go with a wet pop so he could focus on a different space.

His thumb penetrated your folds, just below your clit. He pushed it upward, gathering your wetness on the way. He moved his thumb in a slow circular motion along the exterior of your clit.

A high pitched squeak was pulled from you. Your breathing labored and strained. Your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure. Not a single thought in your head other than Viktor.

Your thighs clamped around his hips. You pushed yourself down further on his fingers. The walls of your interior squeezed as tight as they could, hoping to milk something his fingers simply could not provide. You felt water come to your eyes at the realization. Your body pulsed all over as you slumped forward.

“Vik,” you whispered as you began to come down.

He gathered the fabric of his robe. He lifted you off him but his fingers followed, still secure. His dick was exposed and free. Nothing stopped it from touch the air.

He carefully pulled off your pants and underwear. Then it was a slow, careful descent to place you atop his dick. A moment of a near uncomfortable stretch as both his dick and fingers were in you. It was quickly replaced with a comfortable stretch. His fingers slipped out as his dick slipped in.

He brushed your hair away from your face and gave you a soft kiss. Your arms wrapped around his body. You melted against him.

He met the person’s eyes once more. Your lips went to his greyish purple skin. He was able to feel your tenderness in his muscles. You clenched around him.

Leave.

They scrambled to their feet and nearly ran out. He imagined they would have if it weren’t for other circumstances.

Viktor’s head lulled back and fell against yours.

[cybermindz]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ EVERLASTING DESIRE ˊ˗

lando norris x fem!reader

contains ─┈ · · · 18+, smut: p in v, unprotected sex, breeding, manhandling, obsessed!lando, pussydrunk!lando, wc: 600+

a/n ─┈ · · · another reupload bc it got deleted thank god i kept the screenshot of the request (◞︎‸◟︎ㆀ)

꒰ 𖥻masterlist ꒱

LANDO NORRIS was in an absolute feral state. the only sounds bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom were his hips snapping into yours in a brutal pace and loud ceaseless cries pouring from your drooling mouth. it was too erotic, so lewd, and dirty that he wishes he can burn this very instant in his brain to store and replay.

for the lack of better words, he couldn't get enough of it—so fixated on how his cock fits so snugly in your pulsating walls, it felt like he was on cloud nine solely because of the grip your soaked cunt has on him. he couldn't even pull away from you if he wanted to, only being sucked in whenever his hips draw back. it's not like Lando was planning to attempt on removing himself from you anyway, he could get lost in this sensation for eternity and that's exactly what he desired.

that wasn't even the only thing that had him in this chokehold; his eyes couldn't stop zeroing in on your beautiful features reacting to each drag of his cock—eyes screwed shut and brows scrunching in pleasure. you looked madly bewitching underneath him, utterly ruined and unable to contain your shameful moans with your nails digging into his arms. there was sweat that started to bead onto every inch of your soft skin—dampening the sheets, not only that but your brain slipping away from reality was all too visible and he was going haywire from it all.

his eyes clouded over with lust at the sight and his greed got the best of him. it ignited something so carnal in his very being that his thrusts became harder, sloppier, battering your insides with the intention of spilling a load to paint your walls white.

“ ‘m gonna—fuck!” he grunts out, blood buzzing when you squeeze around him so firmly, “gonna fill you up—hah… yeah? you’d like that wouldn’t you? make you mine forever?”

he's blurting out mindless words, panting drunkenly from the sensitivity, balls going taut.

"all mine."

you both seemingly were unable to modulate a single coherent thought. only centering on trying to reach your peaks.

"yes—ah! all yours lando, only yours."

that was enough for him to topple over the edge, spilling his cum inside of you with a breathless gasp. it was so immediate and sudden that it left him shocked and speechless. you achieved your own orgasm upon the feeling of the warm liquid spurting deep in your core, you clamp down and convulse around him, milking him for all he's worth.

a translucent white ring paints the base of his length when he bucks slowly to calm down both of your highs. he shudders at the aftershocks in exhaustion but when he looks at you completely fucked out—his cock stirs once more, twitching and becoming stiff all over again.

he blinks once. twice. considering over his next move. you couldn't even respond when your body maneuvers with such ease, as if you weighed nothing but a feather. his strong veiny hands takes ahold of your limbs to put you on your hands and knees before pushing your head down onto the pillows, gripping your nape with one palm to keep you in place.

with your ass in the air, the cum starts to seep out of your pussy—dribbling down to your clit. rapidly, he catches the fluid with his tip and drags it to your hole again, plunging his full length into you to fuck the cum back inside—making you kick your feet in surprise. the plush pillows perfectly muting your screams.

"can't waste any of it baby. need to give you more. make you full of it."

he's not even bothered by the overstimulation burning the fat head of his cock. you had him wrapped around your little finger to say the least, and he couldn't be more content.

© 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐙. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works. reposting on other media platforms is prohibited.

— reblogs, comments, & feedback are appreciated!

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 3~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello guys, and welcome to the third installment of Snake in the Garden! This chapter is a bit longer than the first two, so I hope you enjoy the extra words. I'm excited to bring in the next chapter for you all and I bet Lucifer will be happy to see you too! The taglist is still open, so if you're interested in joining comment down below! As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 3048

Warnings: Non-Con Kissing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Marriage, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

I shook as I locked the bathroom door behind me. I had left Lucifer in his workshop while I claimed I needed to do my business. Even with him so far away I was still so nervous. After I made sure nobody was around, I started emptying the pockets of my pants. I was keeping different colored pieces of fabric on my person and taking them out felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Setting them on the counter, I went into the cabinet below the sink and pulled out my secret. In the privacy of the bathroom I was building a rope. Over the past few weeks I had been collecting different fabric from all around the palace. Napkins, towels, shirts, nothing was free from my building process. Sitting on the toilet, I grabbed my newly acquired material and tied it to the end of the rope. The rope itself was quite long and only a few more pieces would need to be added in order for it to reach the full height out of the window. Satisfied with my work, I put it back in the cabinet and went on my way back to the workshop. 

My days passed by slowly and I was counting down to when I could finally escape. Lucifer was getting touchy feely more than ever. It was so bad I couldn’t go a minute without his hands on me. I tried to tell him to stop but that just made his body get closer to mine and his grip to get a bit tighter. I absolutely hated it. His courting was getting worse too. Every day I’d wake up to a new rubber duck or bouquet of flowers being thrusted at my face, a wide smile on his face and a blush spreading from cheek to cheek. The only time I could find for myself was using the bathroom either for bathing purposes or other forms of business. 

One day I found myself in the dining room eating breakfast. Lucifer sat across from me reading his newspaper. However he seemed very fidgety as his leg kept bouncing underneath the table and his claws were tapping the paper in his hands. I was a bit nervous as I had never seen him act like this before and I wasn’t sure what was to come from it. After our plates were cleared, Lucifer came to my side and took me by the hand. He gave it a quick kiss before leading me through the glass doors to outside. We walked to a spot on the property I haven’t been to yet. We stopped by a small gazebo and inky black arms wrapped around my waist. “Ta da!”

One of his arms gestured to the dead grass in front of us. I was confused until I saw it change to a healthy green color. Amazed, I watched as bushes of flowers popped up from the ground and a tree with some apples grew before my very eyes. Rows upon rows of vegetables magically appeared as well. I gasped at how beautiful the scenery was before me. “I’d like to present to you your very own garden. I’ve been thinking of gifting this to you for a while but I couldn’t find the right moment. What do you think?”

I was speechless. All of this was for me? I understood this was part of his courting but the gesture was super nice.

“It’s…it’s beautiful, Lucifer. Thank you.”

He gasped and turned to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile went from one red cheek to the other. “Was that a thank you I heard? Please hold the applause! Can we hear that one more time?”

I giggled. “Thank you.”

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome, darling. How about you take a look around while I grab some paperwork.”

He kissed my forehead and then poofed away in a cloud of red smoke. I coughed a bit as the smoke cleared and waved my hand to try and move it away faster. From where I stood, I could see the hole in the fence and as much as it called to me, I stayed put. I just needed some more time and then I’d be free. While Lucifer was away I walked around my newly acquired garden and smiled. It was actually quite the spectacle, but who could expect less from the Sin of Pride? 

Suddenly in a flash, Lucifer returned with a butt load of papers in his hand. “Did you have a chance to look around, my dear?”

“I did.”

“Is it to your liking? I can always add in more shrubbery or substitute the flowers for something else.”

“No, it’s quite lovely. Thank you.”

He puffed out his chest and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that. Now before I begin my boring paperwork, is there anything I can get you?”

“Perhaps a trowel and a bucket?”

“Of course.”

He snapped his fingers and next to me on the grass appeared those two items. “I’ll just be over at this table so if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask, sweetie.”

“Will do.”

“Good girl. Have fun!”

True to his word, Lucifer sat at a small, white, metal table and began working on his stack of paperwork. I was curious to know what kind of contracts and other tasks the King of Hell had to accomplish, but I just ignored that wish. Turning to the apple tree I noticed some weeds, so I headed over. Kneeling down, I took the trowel and began to dig out the vermin and put them in the bucket. Everytime I dug out a weed it seemed like another one appeared. I growled and kept going, but the process was soon becoming tedious. Just as I was about to give up, I heard chuckling coming from the table. I looked over to see Lucifer hiding his laughter behind one of his papers. “So you’re the reason I can’t get through this task. Get back to work, mister!”

I playfully shook my trowel at him and he gave a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed and went back to shoveling. Without Lucifer’s magic making more appear, weeding the apple tree went fairly quickly. After that was done, I moved onto the other bushes and rows of vegetables. It took me several hours but I was finally done weeding. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and let out a breath. It had been a while since I was able to do something I enjoyed in this hellhole. Walking over to the table, I sat down across from His Majesty. I set the bucket with the trowel and weeds inside on the grass. “Whatcha reading?”

“Monthly business reports from the different Sins. I doubt you’d find it entertaining. I certainly don’t.”

I had to chuckle. It was kind of funny to see this side of him. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?! Are you stupid?! He kidnapped you and is trying to court you! Get a grip, woman!

I shook my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Say, how about I take you out for dinner tonight. You’ve been so lovely here at home and I think we both deserve a treat.”

Oh you have no idea how wrong you are.

“Sounds nice. Anything you want me to wear?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he ran his claws up and down my arm. Goosebumps appeared on my skin and I had to suppress a shudder. “That red dress we got you would be a nice statement piece. Really sell the whole ‘you’re mine’ ideology.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Yeah right. 

I pulled my arm away so he’d stop touching it. “I was maybe going to go read in the library if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m almost done here so I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

I nodded and began to walk away. I heard him hum so I turned to look at him. He seemed so happy as he signed something. I almost felt bad for leaving him shortly but then I reminded myself of all the things he had done to me. Keep your focus, Y/n. Don’t lose sight.

I grunted and made my way inside to the library on the second floor. When I got there I walked over to one of the various bookcases. There were ten in total and each one reached the high vaulted ceiling. I scanned the titles of some of the books and landed on a fantasy novel, The Last Human. Quite the odd book to have.

I peeled it from its brothers and sat down in one of the plush leather, burgundy armchairs. I opened it and began to read. A few hours passed as I read, Lucifer coming in to join me at some point. He chose the chair next to mine and I felt his fingers playing with my thigh. I tried to not pay much attention to it and concentrate on my book. The novel itself was quite interesting, a spin on The Last Unicorn if you will. 

When night had fallen, the two of us changed. I donned the red, floor length garment that he wanted me to wear while Lucifer put on a black tuxedo. A servant drove us to the inner sanctum of the city and when we stopped His Majesty helped me out of the car. I thanked him and took the arm he held out. We walked into the posh looking restaurant and the cat hostess seemed surprised to see us. “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Hello. I placed a reservation for two earlier today.”

“Let me check the list.”

Her finger scanned down a piece of paper and then tapped a specific spot. “Here we are. Follow me please.”

She led us past several tables before we reached a table in the middle of the room. The table had a white tablecloth and vase with a rose in it. A candle in a glass bubble sat next to the vase in the center. Lucifer acted like a gentleman and pulled my chair out for me. He scooted it close before taking his seat. “Somebody will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us and not even a minute later an imp waitress appeared. “Hello, my name is Jenny and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”

“A bottle of your finest champagne, please.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

She bowed and ran off. “Champagne? What’s the special occasion?” “What? A man can’t enjoy some fancy liquor with the woman he loves?”

He reached across the table and squoze my hand. I felt some heat rise to my cheeks and I looked away. The restaurant was quite packed. All the tables had some form of couple sitting at it. Our waitress returned with two tall glasses and a green bottle that read Beelzebub’s Special Brew. She popped the cork and poured some champagne into each of our glasses. “Now could I get you two something to eat?”

“Yes, just some pasta for both of us.”

“Of course, Sire. I’ll be out with that shortly.”

I watched as she ran off again. “I hope that was okay. I know you tend to favor pasta when Belfazaar serves it at home.”

“It’s fine.”

I grabbed my glass and took a sip. It was quite good, a bit on the sweeter side. “How is it?”

“Good. I’ll admit I haven’t had champagne since the last wedding I attended.”

At the mention of Earth, I could feel my aura dampen. While my “lover” tried to make my stay as homey as possible, I still longed for the green and blue planet. Lucifer must have noticed the mood change because the hand on top of mine caressed it lightly. “Still missing Earth, huh?”

I nodded. He sighed. “I thought I was making your stay in Hell quite cozy.”

“You have made it as comfortable as you can, Lucifer. Truly. I just miss my home is all.”

“Then perhaps I need to step up.”

Suddenly he stood and pulled out a black box. “Lucifer, what are you-”

I stopped when I saw him kneel. My eyes widened and my breath hitched. No, he couldn’t possibly be…

He opened the box and amongst the plush red velvet lay a golden ring made to look like a snake. Everyone in the restaurant started to gasp and I could see demons pull out their phones to record what was happening. “Please, don’t do this.”

The attention just made Lucifer more happy. “Y/n, I know you’ve been struggling with Hell lately. Trust me, I was there too once. However, I want to be by your side and make you comfortable, happy. More than anything I want to shelter and adore you. I think it’s time we made this official. Will you, Y/n L/n, marry me?”

My body stilled and my mind went blank. Everyone’s attention was on the two of us and the stares made my body flare up. I gulped. What should I do? What should I do?! WHAT SHOULD I DO?! If I accept, will I ever be able to go home? If I don’t, what will he do? He’s capable of so many things, what will he choose to do to me?

I could feel my breath getting stuck in my chest and my eyes started to water. Was it always this hot in here?

“I, I, I-”

“Please, Y/n. Make me the happiest man in all of Hell.”

He lifted the box a bit higher and the ring seemed to sparkle in the light. I looked into his eyes and could only find adoration there, them sparkling just like the ring. Everyone’s staring, just say something. JUST SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!

“Y-YES!”

I slapped my hands over my mouth quickly but it was too late. Lucifer plucked the piece of jewelry out of the box and put it on my ring finger. He stood up and for the first time kissed my lips. My eyes widened and I went to push him away, but he grabbed my hands in a tight hold. Everyone around us was applauding and cheering us on and I just wanted to die inside. He pulled away and caressed my cheek lightly. “I love you, my dear.” 

He sat himself back in his chair and smiled at me from across the table. I held my hand and looked at the piece of jewelry now adorning it. It was quite intricate for an engagement ring. Each one of the snake’s scales was engraved into the gold and a little diamond made up the eye. “Quite lovely, isn’t it? I’ve had that made since we first met. It feels nice to finally gift it to you.”

I was sick of looking at it, so I slid my hand under the tablecloth. So that’s why the courting had been ramped up recently. Because he was going to ask me to marry him.

“I thought it would be special to make it in the form we met in. That way it would be more meaningful to our relationship. I hope you like it, darling.”

I just nodded. I couldn’t force myself to say anything in case I said something rash and ruined my plan. Jenny came back to our table with two bowls and set them down. “Here we are. And congratulations on the engagement! I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

“Looks delicious, thanks!”

The two of us picked up our forks and began to eat. I slowly picked at mine and ate little bites while Lucifer talked. “So when do you want to have the wedding, darling? I was thinking a couple months from now when the Pentagram moon will be out. It’ll make the day even more special! Oh, we’ll have to get planning right away! I have so many ideas in mind, how about you?”

“I guess.”

“Are you alright, my little apple?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick actually. Could we maybe go home?”

“Of course, my dear. Let me just pay the check.”

Lucifer flagged down our waitress, paid the bill and then led me out to the car. Customers kept shouting at us congratulations as we left and I remained silent the whole ride home. When we arrived inside, I immediately headed for the bedroom. If I was going to escape, it better be tonight. “I think I’ll take a bath and then head to bed, Lucifer.”

“Alright. I’ll be in my office for a bit. I hope you feel better soon, dear.”

He gave me a light peck on the forehead and then left. Now to put my plan into action.

I headed to the wardrobe and pulled out a light blue nightgown. I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. Locking the door, I pulled off the red dress and put on the nightgown. Opening the cabinet, I pulled out my rope. Grabbing the red dress, I attached it to the end and tied the rope to the foot of the bathtub. Tugging on it to make sure it was secure, I unlatched the window and threw it out. I looked back at the door to make sure nobody was there and then began climbing down. My stomach twisted as I was quite high up and my foot had slipped a couple of times, but I finally made it to the ground. Peering around the corner of the palace, I saw David and Goliath sleeping in the front yard. Good to go.

I bolted as fast as I could to the hole in the fence. I moved aside the bushes and quickly squoze through. I hissed as the fence had caused a couple of gashes on my arm and tore a bit of my nightgown from the sharp edges. Looking around for some kind of direction, I saw in the distance the sparkling marquee that read Hazbin Hotel. I grinned and ran like my life depended on it.

~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog

[moriitis]

"I am your sword, protector.. and oh, how I wish for you to be mine."

Knight Toby x Female Reader. Medieval AU. Part 1.

Content/Warnings; Mentions of murder, poisoning, blood, self inflicted harm, starved children, unsafe sex, suicide, abuse, death, implied abuse to animals, death of animals.

18+. MINORS DNI.

Based on my HCs here.

Word count; 7k

Toby is viewed a little differently in this AU, as are some other characters. How you view fictional characters is totally down to you, this is just how I pictured them to be.

You have no idea how you make me feel and I fear what I'll do if they marry you off. Can you not see? Can you not feel? Or am I being punished for the man I will never be? There is nothing left inside this shell, and yet when I see you; I feel a flicker of hope.. What am I saying? I am in love with you.

-

The bed rocked and thumped against the wall with each thrust that was made. Skin to skin, fingers embedded into his back; the other set of fingers tugging softly at his hair. Her moans filled the room, a room so hot and stuffy that it was getting harder and harder to breath in. It would've been pitch black if it hadn't been for the candle that was set atop the bedside table, although it was nearing the end of its final moments, the wax dripping down the end of the stick and coating the wooden bedside. The flame would flicker momentarily, a glimpse of hope perhaps? Toby moved his face away from the woman's neck, catching the flame in his gaze as he watched it dance. A dance so mesmerising that the movement his hips made were involuntary; moving purely on instinct rather than desire.

"Toby-!" Cried the woman beneath him and suddenly his eyes fluttered, brows furrowing in focus as he turned his attention back toward the woman. Her hands reached for anything to grip on, his hair, his biceps or even his shoulder as she felt the increasing urge to come undone below him. The way she would pant, the desperation in his voice; it stirred his focus back into play and it was there he found the remaining energy within him to keep the rhythm of his hips against her own.

"Toby-" She cried again and he faltered. The rhythm that he had found now becoming out of synch, for the cry of what he expected to be a woman came out into nothing but that of a man. A mans voice he did not expected to hear when on the edge of his own orgasm.

"Toby?"

The brunette blinked and here he was in the hall. The council hall, with pillars that rose at an extraordinary height. He had stood within this hall many times, to attend council. Many leaders spoke here, many disagreements. The hall was large, big enough to fit another table and chairs; but within it stood only the singular, wooden table. It was coated in fur, the fur of many beasts; bear, sheep, goat, horse, wolf. Sat in the middle of the long table was the King, a throne so mighty that should one look upon it, they already feel drawn by the power it holds. Naturally, other chairs were joined around the table however they were not as mighty as the throne itself. Simple wooden chairs, for well.. simple people. At least that was how it was. Regardless of your status or title, once you entered another man's kingdom, you were below them. It was as simple as that. Behind the throne and table was the stained glass window, filled with deceptions of the past kings who ruled this land.

The middle, King Lucius. The King who killed the Dragon. To the left, King Addilas. The King who banished the plague and then on the right, King Raddeon. The King who killed his assassinator with his bare hands.

Even Toby himself knew that most these stories were over-exaggeration. Dragons were not real, the plague killed many before the end and the assassinator was an old man; it would be easy to kill such a weak thing.

"Toby, are you listening?" The King cried from over his shoulder and Toby's brows furrowed in response. It wasn't often he got lost or distracted. With a simple step closer, hands behind his back, he replied. "My lord," he acknowledged with a simple bow and with a quick glance from beneath his brows; he noted how the whole council was looking at him. Sneering, displeased. He'd seen those looks before and if he were younger, he would've made a remark. Alas; he was devoted to a King and now his mouth must remain shut.

"What do you think? Of the current affairs?" The king grumbled, shooting the knight a daring look from under the white of his bushy brow. He was old, he had ruled since Toby was that of a boy and Toby knew death came for all eventually. It was not uncommon for the king to ask for his input. Toby had attended the council a lot since he became a knight. Shifting his weight, he sucked in a steady breath of air. It stunk in here, it was damp and it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Lord," was all he could utter, for he had not been listening. With a respectful bow of his head, his hard gaze connected with the stone flooring beneath him. There he could see the shine of his armour, he would've seen a reflection of his pathetic self if it wasn't for the engravings within the steel. The king knew he had not been listening and in a spit of rage slammed a fist down on the oak table.

"Damn you, boy!" He roared, causing the other members to flinch softly at his sudden fit of rage. Toby stood unaffected. As quickly as the king's rage came to be, even quicker it disappeared as he burst into a fit of coughs. A smouldering reminder of his fate. Only those within the castle walls knew of the king's health, that he was dying and as bad of the thought be; Toby hoped that death would come sooner.

Silence creeped over the hall as the king coughed and spluttered, a hand raised to shield his mouth from the blood that began to evidently spot out onto his palm. The brunette shot a glance at his king, though he did not worry. What was a knight to do against such an illness? There were only so many battles he could fight. So, with a purse of his lips, he lifted his chin and addressed the council;

"Council is over. Leave." Had the king instructed him to adjourn council? No, but Toby didn't want to sit here any longer with a man that was actively dying in front of him.

"Why do you lie to yourself? You love the sound of a man dying before you."

Toby's head then snapped round in a motion that was quick enough to make his head spin. That voice, so close that he could feel the breath against his ear; was the same voice as his fathers. As he searched helplessly around the hall, there was no source to the voice that spoke in his ear. He would've gone mad if it weren't for the bustle and scraping of chairs that stirred his attention away. Although his heart wanted to beat, wanting and yearning to feel something in response to the sound of his dead father; he felt nothing. Perhaps it was because he knew that his father was dead, oh, he was sure of it and that voice was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze back to the king who was struggling to catch his breath. He stood awkwardly close by because he knew that if he tried to reach out or help, the king would do nothing but order him away. Anyway, he didn't care that much. The king, decrepit and frail, stood to his feet after a moment; with the aid of his table and shuffled away from his throne. The shadow of the throne cast over him, perhaps it was death, or the weight of his responsibilities?

"My daughter," he croaked, breaking the silence between himself and Toby. "She is to be queen. Not my fool of a son. You listen to me, boy, and you heed these words well," it was there he turned, pointing a crooked finger toward his knight. Confusion was etched across Toby's features as he listened almost cautiously. "You kill him. You kill my son, you make her queen and I will promise her hand in marriage to you. I see the way you look at her, the same way any man would."

And there, like an open book, the king had peeled back Toby, leaving him vulnerable and unsafe. The king knew it was wrong and in that moment, he had something Toby so desperately wanted. His mind fought against his desires and his common sense. What if this were to be a test, a trial? To prove his loyalty to the crown? What if he were to agree and thus finds himself in prison for betrayal? Plotting against the heir, it was heresy and yet it could be done with ease. Toby had taken many lives before, especially while under command to the king, what difference was this? It would be easy, there's no doubt about that. He was a knight, he had access to every part of the castle. The only thing he needed to do was make the death look.. well, perhaps accidental? His jaw tensed, he had been silent for a long time and the king was growing impatient.

"Is this some sort of test, Lord?" Toby sneered, angling his chin up to glance at him from almost the tip of his nose. "Or do you jest?" Before Toby could speak more, the Kings hand landed a blow against the side of his face and his head jerked. He was in shock, his own hand twitching momentarily as his body fought the urge to respond to such a slap. His shock soon dissipated however, he had been hit many times that now it made his body overcome with a feeling of just pure numbness. It was useless, such a slap, for not only was it weak; but he was unable to feel a thing anyway. With a twitch of his upper lip, he then hacked up some saliva and spat it promptly onto the floor beneath him.

"Very well," Toby replied bitterly, slowly craning his head up to glare at the King. If it wasn't for his vows, this old man would be gargling on his own blood already. "I'll kill him." And when those words came out his mouth, Toby couldn't deny the little flutter of excitement that emerged within the pits of his stomach.

-

Their steps echoed within the empty halls of the castle. Armor clinking softly and his hand pressed firmly against the hilt of his blade that sat just beside his hip. Silence lingered between the two of you as you both stepped almost in synch. There was a chill in the air which nipped at your skin. Winter was fast approaching, leaves beginning to fall around the castle estate, each morning becoming bitter and colder as each day passed. It daren't snow, but the temperature made it tempting. The castle did look so pretty when coated in snow, its blankets creating a sharp white no matter where you looked. A sharp clink of armor disturbed your thoughts and it was there you craned your head over your shoulder briefly, your gaze meeting Toby's own unwelcoming look and in response you turned sharply back ahead of you.

There were many ways you could describe Toby. Unsettling perhaps? Albeit, that seemed somewhat rude and you had a status to upkeep. He was no regular soldier, no normal knight. There was something about him that would quieten any feast hall within the first step he took in the place. Was it his messy, unkept hair? Surely not. But your mind lingered to the hideous mark beside his lips, a mark so cruel that sometimes it was hard to look at him. It made him not appear human, with such a deformity as such. With his teeth exposed, almost like he was some kind of snarling dog; the way the skin twisted and contorted against his cheek. His lips pulled slightly toward the scar, creating a devilish look that made it appear as if he was always smirking. His eyes said otherwise, they were so dead; so empty, that even if he were to convey any sort of emotion, his eyes would not follow. No crinkle of a smile, like he was frozen in time of a place that brought him great sadness.

Naturally, it make you wonder and then there was the gossip. Your ladies spoke such devilish thoughts of the man but their words enticed you more and more, drawing your interest to Toby like some sick kind of spell.

"I heard he was poor as anything." "Well, I hear that his mother died and he.. he killed his own father. In cold blood. Imagine that?" "That's true! Look at his face! It reads a killer, how he's trusted in these very walls I will never know. My, I almost pity him, looking the way he does." "I see him at the brothel most nights, do you think he has to pay extra for a face like his?" It was bad to mock, awful to sit and judge but on many days you found yourself indulged in such gossip, enough that you'd be laughing along with them in your chambers. A part of you wondered if the rumours were true, why would he kill his own father? "Well, turns out the king saved him from the rope, sent him off to knight school and well.. you know the rest."

That was right, you had met Toby when you had just turned nineteen but you couldn't help but feel as if you had already met before that. You remember a scrawny, violent boy who fought against the guards grip in the courtyard. He was pale and coated in blood, but that couldn't have been Toby. Truth be told, you knew nothing about him other than rumours and it made you uncomfortable knowing that someone who potentially murdered his own father in cold blood was now serving a life dedicated to you and your family? There was a lot of trust, perhaps he had proved himself? Or perhaps he asked God for forgiveness? No, that wouldn't make sense; you barely saw him in the chapel and the one time you did, he was causing a scene.

"You are quiet, my lady. Does s-ss-.. something bother you?" And it wasn't just his looks that made you nervous, it was the way he would talk or involuntarily move his muscles; like he had no control of his own body. Sucking in a sharp breath, you felt your tongue graze over the bottom of your lip; trying to find words. Perhaps now was a good time to get to know him?

"It is nothing," you replied, short and sweet however you lied through your teeth. With your gaze strictly down the hall, you continued on.

There had been some commotion outside the castle halls, what it was, you were uncertain but the guard count doubled and now Toby was by your side like a hound. It wasn't unusual, there was always a rabble here and there, although the extra guard patrolling the walls did make you feel a tinge more anxious than before. Why Toby was not by your fathers side was beyond you. It was there your hand ever so slightly clutched against the fabrics of your dress, unspoken tension lingered in the air that made your throat feel dry.

"It's just.. I don't know anything about you," you croaked out, immediately feeling a wave of regret flush over your body. It wasn't like you really cared enough to know; but perhaps he had some interesting tales and it would benefit you better if you got along with Toby more. You daren't look over your shoulder, keeping your gaze firm and strong once again on the hall before you. It felt never ending at this point, like each step drew the hallway longer and longer. Toby's silence was not a welcoming one either, perhaps your question surprised him? Why should you care about somebody as little as him?

"Mm-m.. maybe that's for the best," Toby replied, his voice hard and cold. Maybe it was for the best, and yet curiosity nipped away at you. Your lips pursed, troubled a little as you did not want to pressure him into talking about things that perhaps were best to not be spoken about at all.

Finally, the end of the hall and it was there you turned the corner. Down on the floor, not too far away, was one of the maids with a bucket beside her. She was promptly soaking the stone floor in water before scrubbing away, she sat on her knees, her robes tatty and dirty. She adverted her gaze up briefly, uninterested before coming to the realisation that it was you and quickly bowed her head in respect. Exchanging nothing but a friendly smile, you craned your head over just a fraction to see that the maids gaze lingered far more longer on Toby. A part of you wondered how that made him feel? What did he think in that head of his? Your mind wracked at all the things you could say, what you wanted to say to him and yet you just continued on in that lingering, looming silence. You were supposed to be good at this conversing stuff, your mother always preaching that sometimes a sharp tongue was better than a sharp sword. It's just Toby made you feel things you were uncertain of feeling, an array of emotions that made you either want to throw up or rip your hair out.

As you passed the maid, you decided to speak. "My father, what will happen to you when he dies?" It was a morbid thought, one you were not keen on thinking however there was no beating around the bush with these kinds of things. Your mother was already wearing her black clothes, already grieving for a man who was not dead yet. How odd, you thought. From behind you, you heard Toby's neck crack as he rolled his head at the question, trying to think of an answer to give at such a question.

"I am to continue serving you. I made my vows to nn-not just your father, but-but… your family." And despite his answer, you were not content with it; longing for something more that you couldn't put your tongue on.

"And if we all were to die? Then what?" You pressed on, just simply not satisfied. It was there you heard a short, gruff chuckle that almost emerged from under a breathy sigh. It was short, brief, yet filled the silence more than anything. It was unexpected, maybe because you'd never heard the man laugh before. Was he capable of such a thing? Would this even be considered a laugh? In fact, it surprised you so much that you stopped in your tracks to advert your gaze toward the man. He was close, so close that you could smell an almost metallic smell radiate off him. It was not an unpleasant smell, that was for sure.

"That would not happen," he replied, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips or well, what was left of his lips. Was he jesting you? Mocking you perhaps? Now admittedly, you felt rather stupid and a sheepish look etched it way across your features as you slowly glanced away. But why not? Why not? You thought, just wanting to hound and hound him with questions until this hunger within you ceased to exist. What was it about him that pulled you in more and more?

"And why not? What is stopping an army from slaughtering us all? Here, on these clean floors?" Shut up, shut up, but you simply couldn't. You were stubborn, maybe even a little annoying. Although, Toby seemed amused. You were searching desperately in his eyes and for a second, you could've sworn his look changed.

"Then I will die with you," Toby replied.

"No, no, you are more to this life, are you not? Do you have dreams? Wishes?" Perhaps you were projecting a little. There, that look again! His eyes softened, a second so short that within a blink of an eye, his gaze hardened again. What were you hiding Toby? What are you feeling? These walls are strong, what lies behind them? And why, oh why, were you ever so desperate to know? Toby went to open his mouth, but stopped himself and shook his head, a soft smirk flashing across his features as he scoffed.

"My lady, with all respect, you talk too much," Toby replied and it took you aback a little. Well, it didn't; mostly because Toby was known for being so blunt and straight forward. You wanted to say something, anything, but your mouth just hung agape a little before you snapped it shut. Maybe that was what you needed to hear, to smack some sense into you. Lord forgiving if your mother caught you speaking like this, for it was the most unroyal. Alas, it was only Toby; surely he had heard worse. Instantly, you bit on the bottom of your lip only briefly in a weak attempt to shut yourself up. "I must excuse myself, I will find another guard to-to… to-.." he sucked in a sharp breath. "To accompany you."

A sinking feeling emerged in the pits of your stomach, had you run your tongue too much? Before you could dwell on it any longer, Toby gave a courteous bow of his head before making haste past you.

"Wait-" you called out, turning to follow him and the direction he was headed; which was the opposite way to which you had come. His back faced you, but he awaited patiently. "Speak not a word of this to anyone, this conversation." Your voice echoed out into the hall, bouncing back at you and making you cringe at the pure desperation in your voice. How frightfully embarrassing. Toby then turned to face you, almost already side stepping away; with a simple shrug, he then called out. "What conversation?" A smile flashed across his pale features and with another bow of his head, he disappeared. That man, your skin felt hot to touch.

-

Your fathers time on earth grew shorter and shorter with each passing day. Many speculated he would be dead by the end of winter and Toby knew that his task to assassinate the next heir was fast approaching; it needed to be done in the coming days. The kingdom was ready for one funeral, but two? Well, that was another story which would be a messy one and ultimately put you in a shitty position. It was only temporary, but his mind troubled him. The many thoughts that plagued him. Sleep was already scarce with the many memories that tormented him, but the king's demand only made it worse.

How does one kill a future king and make it accidental? Well, they would not suspect a rat. Maybe his fathers death and the weight of the crown tormented him so, that he takes his own life. A hanging would be too obvious. Better yet, poison would be good. The only issue is that, Toby can't be the last person seen with him. This wasn't his only worry, how was he going to convince you to fall in love with him? He was no royalty and he was not fit for a crown, god forbid, it was the last thing he wanted. Oh, and how on earth was the king going to ensure Toby be wedded to you if he's already dead by the time it were to happen?

The distant sounds of brushes sweeping across the stable floor disturbed him from his dark, putrid thoughts and his gaze adverted back up to his surroundings. It wasn't the best place to be in, it stunk of horse shit, the hay made him itch and no matter where he went; there was always someone wanting to ask him questions. Could he not ponder about murder in peace? His hands were preoccupied with an apple and a blade, cutting away pieces of the apple to feed himself with. It was sour but it came from the castle kitchens; so he wouldn't fuss about the taste. It was better than nothing, that or stale bread and mouldy cheese he used to live off on. Each chew on the apple was long and drawn out, savouring the taste almost as if that would conjure up some amazing idea for him. The blade moved swiftly through the apple until it caught just the right angle. There, staring back at him, was his own reflection on the blade.

Toby couldn't remember the last time he ever looked at himself in any mirror. Mirrors were forbidden in knight school, probably because many of the boys would smash it to pieces and kill themselves with the sharpest blade they could get their hands on.

With a flicker of the blade, he moved the hilt between his thumb as he observed his own reflection staring back at him. A part of him almost couldn't believe it was him. Who was this stranger staring back at him? With a disfigured face, hard features and unwelcoming gaze? How could one look at him? Because he certainly couldn't and swiftly he moved the blade up, the reflection on the blade now being that of a window from the castle above him.

A window big enough for a person to fall out of. The height was enough to split a skull, that was for sure. There, he tilted his head to get a better view. He knew the grounds and castle like the back of his hand. This window being specifically the storage room and if Toby was right, the window that faced the moat was yours. He had to know these things, for.. safety reasons. It's just, he couldn't help his gaze lingering at your window longer than needed when he was doing his rounds, before he served under the crown and was nothing but a measly guard.

A commotion caught his attention and it was there his gaze quickly glanced up, noticing a frail guard that approached him in a speed that was as almost as fast as a horse itself. He was skinny, with a bowl cut and his face was littered in spots, yellow, red; all kinds of colours that made his face rather distasteful to look at. Who was he to talk though? Over, just behind him, was a crowd of men, sporting the same armor as this particular guard. Nothing but the normal scrabble, but there stood before the group was the guards keeper. His duty keeping the men from drinking on their job; which was a total failure as most the guardsmen here were utterly useless.

"Sire!" The man spoke quick, a little out of breath and feeling the urge to double over just to catch it. Raising a brow in interest, Toby brought a piece of apple to his lips before chewing on it. "Something has happened and people have been looking for you and it is with the upmost urgency that you-"

"There you are!" Yelled the guards keeper. Perhaps Toby shouldn't have snuck out just for a simple apple, but he needed some alone time to plot and scheme and now chaos rains down? Fucking hell. The plump man marched over, his stomach bobbing with each stride and his chainmail clinking in rhythm. He was bald and if he were to have hair, it would be white to match his age. Wrinkles attached themselves in the most prominent features, crinkles near his eyes, sharp creases in his laugh lines that really just enhanced his jowls. "Have you not heard? Princess has run off, not just run off, took one of our best beasts with her! If the king were not half on his death bed, he'd have your head, boy!"

That was where his interest peaked however, not the king, not the fact that one of the horses was gone; but that the princess would be ever so dareful and run off like that? Was she not taught better? Was it a ploy to get Toby to find her? His heart skipped a beat, a part of him surprised his heat beat at all as he pushed himself off the wall he was leant on to stand straight. This was his duty, a literal sign. Was the king up to this himself? Tossing the half eaten apple to the ground, his blade took comfort in the side of his hip as he quickly threw a sharp finger at the man with the bowl cut.

"A horse, now." Was all Toby had to say and within seconds he was atop the beast, shoes in stirrups and ordering the gates up before dashing off toward the nearby forest. The wind was cold, bitter against his skin as the horse took fast strides toward the forest edge. It had snowed, but it was not deep enough to be a problem for the horse as Toby pulled the reins and squeezed the sides of the animal to a slow canter. The mare's heart was pounding below him and admittedly, so was his as he scanned the treeline.

His mind raced as he scanned the perimeter of the forest line. The forest was dense, easy to trick someone who had no knowledge on how to survive on their own. With winter looming over the kingdom; it was drawing darker earlier and it was a race against the sun. How could this happen? Surely there were plenty of people around to see a fucking princess leave? His grip tightened on the reins. What was he thinking? You were smart, a lot more than you played on to be and yet so damn stupid. It wasn't wolves that reigned over that forest, thieves, bears, cannibals. As the mare continued along the edge, his mind was.. spiralling a little. He was alone and he felt ever so vulnerable right now.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck!" His hand bawled into a fist and it was there his knuckles connected with his temple. His armoured fist would've hurt any normal man, but all he could feel was just the cold touch of the steel against his forehead. Each punch grew harder and harder each time he cursed through gritted teeth, because how the fuck could he let this happen?! As steel connected with skin, it promptly ripped apart the flesh; allowing a gush of blood to come trickling down from just above his eyebrow. It was warm, warmer than the winter air against his skin. It trickled down pale skin, enveloping in each crease on his skin, sliding down and between the hairs of his eyebrow before slipping between the crinkle of his eye. It smeared, smudging and coating his eye in red. It could've stopped there, but Toby hit himself so hard that it only continued to seep down until the liquid coated the whites of his eye. Blinking once, twice, he glanced down and noticed a singular droplet of his blood atop the coat of the mare. It was so red compared to the white of the animal below him.

The blood did not phase him; his mind too preoccupied on you. Toby could grab his blade and plunge it into the horse beneath him, feeling his anger bubble and simmer within his blood, his teeth practically grinding together. As his gaze flickered back to the trees and shrubbery before him, it was there he noticed a horse. It was saddle-less, with only reigns around the frame of its head. It was one of the king's horses alright, with a coat as white as snow. A sense of relief washed over his very being, it wasn't you, no, but he was somewhere in the right direction. The reigns of the horse were tied to the nearest branch that struck out from the others, the horse grazing merrily at each bit of grass or shrubbery it could find between its lips. With a gentle tug on his reigns, he pulled his own horse to a walk and approached the other. The horse that was tied up lifted its head and ears in interest, perhaps they were stable mates. Before his own horse moved to a stop, Toby was already tugging his feet out the stirrups and sliding off the saddle to make the connection with the soil below him.

It seemed his wound was a thing of a past now as his fingers curled around the leather reign, tugging the horse beside the other and mimicking what you had done; tying the horse to the branch. His hand, slow and gentle moved to the other horse and it was there he gave a gentle pat to its large and broad neck. Toby was, in a sense, thankful that this horse had treated you with such kindness, but his worry and anxiety were not over as his gaze turned to the forest.

It was still, eerie, not one peep of any bird came from within it and Toby felt himself sigh. Why would you run off? Well, he understood somewhat. With the crown looming over your head and the death of your father that would soon come any day, perhaps you just needed to take some fresh air. But without security? It was reckless, something no future queen should do. Well.. it wasn't like you really knew that you were about to sit on the throne.

Securing a hand to the hilt of his sword, he pushed aside some branches and stepped inside. Each step drew him deeper within the trees, a crunch here and there from the leaves that had fallen. He was alert, watching around him with eyes like a hawk. This was all wrong, his gut immediately sending his brain signals and aching his body into a fight or flight response. There was nothing of interest in these woods, he knew that well. No hidden lake, no forbidden cave. Just thieves, death and the occasional deer that would freeze at the simplest of sounds. It was this forest that used to be used as the hunting grounds, but ever since the increasing worry of crime that occurred here; it was strictly forbidden and perhaps it was for the best, as the wildlife here seemed vibrate every year. There was something wrong though, because everything here seemed dead.

As he cautiously glanced around, he would exchange glances with the soil beneath him. It was still wet and it smelt damp. The soil was squishy, on the brink of being mud and still being solid in other places. It was a surprise for someone who wouldn't notice it and there, he spotted a footprint in the mud below. It was small, it fit your size alright and he trembled out a little breath in excitement, at least he was on the right path. Time was ticking on and Toby knew that he only had about two hours left of daylight, so he didn't linger for long as he seemingly followed each print he could make out to be; creeping deeper and deeper.

"Don't… move…" the voice was that of a whisper and Toby froze, feeling his skin prickle at the sound that was seemingly above him. Despite its words, he slowly craned his head up toward a tree that loomed above him. There, sat between a branch and the body of the tree, was a scrawny boy. His face was covered by a cowl, that was dark green. It would've provided for good camouflage if it were not winter, bleak and grey compared to the usual lush of green. In his hands were a bow, with an arrow that was perched just above his index finger. It was drawn back and the end of the arrow was aimed below to Toby. It was not a fancy bow of any kind, it had been hand carved; the same with the arrow which just looked like a sharp stick.

"Why is that?" Toby replied, not feeling intimidated at all by the scene unfolding before him.

"Nice armor," the boy spoke, ignoring Toby's question. Still he whispered and Toby's interest piqued a little and he lifted his chin to get a better view of the child. His clothes were ragged, worn and he was barefoot, dirt under his toenails and fingernails. He was skinny, so skinny that his entire body trembled as he kept the bow drawn back. The boy stared back, the lower half of his face was covered by what looked like some fabric and his eyes glared back at Toby. Blue, empty eyes that held so much anger deep within. The string of the makeshift bow was pressed firmly against the tip of his nose, he knew how to hold it which meant maybe somebody else was lurking close by. His grip tightened on the hilt of the sword. "But your face is ugly." The boy then remarked.

"I'm loo-oking for s-ss-..someone," Toby replied, his head twitched involuntarily as his muscles spasmed. The boy watched, he was cautious but Toby could feel his nervousness. For a child, he had Toby in a good position here, but it seemed that even they both knew that he was no match against the likes of Toby. A branch broke to his left and quickly the brunette spun his head around, not caring if an arrow were to be shot at him; it would do no damage to his armor. Before him, in a tree opposite, was a little girl. Slightly younger than the boy, equally dirty and skinny looking. Her hair was brown, fluffy and she clutched onto some makeshift toy that admittedly was nothing but sticks and dried mud. Toby narrowed his eyes at the girl, who shyed away from him. They were just children, trying to make do with that they had; which really was nothing.

"I'm hungry," the girl spoke softly, her voice nothing but a whisper in the wind. There was no denying she was hungry, for she was nothing but skin and bone.

"Not now, Sally-" the boy spoke, an underlying hint of frustration laced in his voice. He was hungry too and with an arrow that looked like that, there was no hunting deer.

Admittedly, Toby felt something he hadn't felt in a long time; pity. This world was cruel, unfair and he wished that children could get the easier outcome of it rather than suffering alongside its cruelness. His shoulders weighed heavy with the burden of wanting to find you before he essentially ran out of time and wanting to help these children. The only thing was; he had nothing to offer. Bringing them back to the castle was out of the question. His tongue wet his lips, trying to figure out a solution that worked for everyone.

"Why don't we play a game?" Toby suggested, not feeling hopeful it would work but it was better than nothing. See, a much darker and twisted side of him couldn't help but think that maybe he should just put them out of their misery, killing them and erasing them off this godforsaken world. The words 'play a game' perked the girl up a little and her eyes finally trailed toward Toby. They were beautifully green. The boy on the other hand; was not falling for it. "Help me f-f-ffind this woman and I'll give you food. Deal?" he asked, exchanging looks between Sally and the boy, whose name he was unsure on. Sally seemed eager and glanced at the boy with a bow, silently pleading him with her eyes. It seemed he was the protector of sorts, he called the shots and right now he was battling his own mind. Attempt to kill a knight or help him and receive food? His face contorted into a range of emotions, pulling the string off his nose as he lowered it ever so slightly.

"Please, Ben.." Sally urged, her legs were dangling off the tree and swinging almost aimlessly at the prospect of food. The boy, whose name Toby had learnt was Ben, seemed conflicted and in a sudden huff of stubbornness, lowered the bow and leant against the bark of the tree.

"Fine-!" he snapped, irritation laced in his voice. Toby felt his muscles relax, not that he was worried or afraid of the boy; but purely because time was running thinner and thinner with each word they spoke. "We saw her, running off that way." He then pointed with the same hand that was previously drawing the string of the bow back, his index finger outstretched toward the direction Toby was already going. "Alright, we helped, now give us food." A glint of hope flickered across Toby's features but with the lack of further information, his gaze then lowered again into disappointment.

"No, no, you find her. Get down, take me to her." Toby commanded and with a soft thump, Sally was already down from the branch and stepping her way in that of the direction Ben had pointed too. Ben seemed surprised and somewhat defeated, wanting to argue further but with the rumble of his stomach and a soft curse under his breath, he also slid down and followed Sally. Toby eyed the pair before stepping behind, he was far taller than the two.

The walk was quiet, with Ben shooting a careful look over his shoulder toward Toby. Were they siblings? He was unsure and despite the pity, he couldn't find himself caring enough. It reminded him of the day he found a stray dog by the side of his fathers field. The dog friendly, tongue a flop out of its mouth and its tail wagging in joy at just the sight of childlike Toby alone. It was his first ever friend and unfortunately the quickest end of a friendship he had endured. Bringing that mutt home was a mistake, because Toby got too attached, named the thing and all; only for his father to stab the dog right there and then.

Of course, his trust in the children was little to none but at this point, he was desperate and grasping at anything that would lead to you. He wasn't sure how to feel when you came across his mind, anger? Relief? He couldn't put it into words, because not only was it reckless but he was now stuck with two starving children and he was unsure if he could even fulfil his end of the bargain when it came to food.

unfortunately, knight toby has me in a chokehold so part 2 should come out pretty quickly. im not sure how long ill continue this, as theres so much wanna write right now and my time online is limited due to being a fucking adult. anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this. i am going back to dreaming about sucking his [REDACTED]

[strawbxrryanime]

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲? - baji keisuke x reader

His hair. His hair that flows through silk and wavers around the night's most harshest winds. Maybe it's his way with words. The way he'd make you feel senseless, bound to control you and make you all his. Making you whimper out his name, begging him to stop being such a tease. Begging for Baji Keisuke.

What if it's the way he looks at you, bronze eyes glaring at you through the days, almost like his eyes are glowing to the sight of you. The way he ties his hair back whenever he's sophisticated upon something. The way he smirks upon teasing you so hard you're on your knees. The way his perfect body gleams perfectly for you, all muscles and strength. It's like he was made just for you.

"Mm, gonna make you mine Y/N~" Baji would mutter. "I'm going to make sure you won't walk for around three weeks~" Baji would chuckle, his chuckles, the way of knowing that you are absolutely fucked. Baji smothers your lips with his deep kisses, his tongue reaching to entangle yours quickly and fast. His kisses, deep and laced with affection, ecstasy fills the room with your moans as Baji kept kissing deep into you.

It could possibly be the way Baji takes off his clothes, his muscular body is once again gleaming for you in the moonlight. That same body that'll pin you down with brute force and make you his one and only. Baji once again smirks, that same smirk that'll provoke you into doing anything for him. That'll make you whimper in fear of what's in store. What about Baji Keisuke that makes him so attractive? The way he inserts his cock inside your tight hole as he puts you in a chokehold, the way his cock gets consumed tightly by your gummy walls as Baji grunts. Tears fill your eyes in complete euphoria as you scream out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Baji was owning you tonight, and now, there's nothing you can do about it. Maybe it's the feeling of making you helpless. Making you all vulnerable, like a wolf with its prey.

His sloppy thrusts slam against you as his cock is deeply buried down your walls within each thrust, each slam, each plap, the impact on your hole was merciless compared to Baji's hot cock. Maybe it's the way the sounds of him fucking you just absolutely pollute your ears, you're so lovesick into Baji Keisuke, and Baji sure is as well since he's wrecking your entire ass fully. His touch, slivering from your neck to your waist and body as he just keeps ramming deep into you.

Baji then kisses your neck, marking you even more, like a stinger deep through skin. "Shh..~" Baji whispered as he kept grunting, "You're so tight it's driving me crazy~" As if you didn't think it'd be crazy enough, Baji starts to go more faster, slamming every inch inside of your hole, the smell of the bedroom is so lewd now. It almost drives you insane as you grip the sheets and moan in pleasure.

Baji's smirk slowly turns upside down into a frown as his mouth opens up, this is when he feels that he's about to cum a whole load inside of you, and you better take all of it. As you kept moaning his name, his thrusts get bigger and sloppier, and his grunts become more louder. His grunts that you can play on repeat, you could ride him like a horse and crush his ballsack and give him all your love, but you know who's definitely dominating tonight.

Maybe it's the way Baji slightly whimpers, even when you point it out he still won't admit it, but he very clearly does so as the noises he makes when he's about to cum a whole lot is enough to make you turn red in the flesh. "Gonna... agh~!" Hearing those words from Baji makes you let out a lewd smile. You know Baji is attracted to you, he's extremely clingy, possessive, and easy to be jealous. So when he's treating you hard he's treating you hard. You admire all of Baji, the way of everything about him is enough to send butterflies to your stomach, even when it feels like he's fully ramming it too.

The sounds of his cock getting more sloppier as he gets closer and closer while he's mindlessly thrusting, pounding into your hole was enough to send shivers down your spine as your eyes roll back in pleasure. Baji slaps your ass as he grabs a hold of it tightly, slamming down every inch of his cock going faster and preceding his limit as he groans and grunts to the moans and screams of you. "AGH!~ GOING TO FUCK YOU S-SO GOOD!~ AGH!~" Baji kept trying to hold it in, another component you loved about your beloved Keisuke. Poundings become even more faster and groans and grunts were exchanged.

You could now hear almost nothing but the slams of his cock, the fast strong and powerful slams, it's really because Baji is silent screaming in ecstasy right now, and he doesn't want you to see him be this weak. But you admire that side of him either way, so you lock your legs inside of him burying his cock even deeper as he thrusts, a clench sound reverberated across the whole entire room as Baji's expression has changed. "A-AGHH!~ HEY!~" Baji was left speechless as the pleasure was just so unexpected for him, you'd see Baji with such a lewd expression, eyes rolled back and all as he continued furiously pounding more and more, reaching his limit, groaning and screams being exchanged until finally, he unleashes his load inside of you.

Another thing to admire, the way his load just completely fills you up with warmth, the groans from Baji as each squirt he vigorously thrusts inside you, the moans and screams from you are undeniably amazing to him as you hold on for dear life trying to take it all inside. Baji lowering his body to kiss you more passionately. Everything about Baji Keisuke makes him so attractive, makes him the best. His cock is still buried in you, as he wraps his arms into you as a headlock kind of way as he smothers you more with kisses, you're now unwilling to escape. Then all of a sudden.

Thrust. Thrust. The poundings pick up more faster and faster as strings from the previous load stick to his cock, pounding heavily against you faster and faster. You scream out. "AH! BAJI W-WAIT!~" Baji smirks and mutters. "You've always destined to be mine. Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard to the point where all the sperm in my ballsack is gone~ And trust me, it does take a lot of time~ And I can scream, groan and grunt to you however I feel like it hm?~ Agh!~" Baji digs his fangs into your neck gently, marking you forever his.

And damn, you're really falling for him there. By the ways your eyes just rolled. It's undoubtedly a fact, everything about Baji just makes him so attractive.

[dark-and-kawaii]

This thought just punched me in the face about Kieran and Rolan...but it might be a bit out there...

I can see Kieran having your face pushed into a wall as he has you bent over in the taverns dark ally. Just being his cocky self as Rolans chastising him about getting caught by someone. That's when Kieran is rolling his eyes (and pounding into you harder because Rolan is starting to piss him off and of course he takes that out on you) "Well if your so worried about it why don't you skip your turn while I finish here. Archemage..." Kireran pinches your clit to make you moan and get your attention, "he doesn't experiment with you much does he princess?"

That's when when Rolan will narrow his eyes at him and pull you from Kireran, with a quick spell Rolans cock is lubed and he starts fucking your tight ass. Kireran lets out a low whistle from Rolan bouncing you hard on his length. "You've prepped her for that?" and Rolan just scoffs "of course I have...she's mine after all." Rolan fucken growls as he tears your ass up. I imagine Kireran doesn't say it but he's slightly impressed he thought Rolan was a bore...this is an interesting development...

Summary: You get stretched, used and abused by your two favorite tieflings.

₊˚⊹♡ Pairings: Rolan x F!Tav/Reader x OMC

₊˚⊹♡ Content: NSFW - Stretched By Two Tiefling Cocks - Your Poor Little Ass - Cunny Being Stretched So Good - Creampie - Asspie - Leaking Cum For Days - Double Penetration - Anal

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: @reverieblondie Please don’t ever stop thirsting for these two men, because my god I read this on repeat babe!!! This was so good and so much fun and I just love you!!!!

The abrupt stretch of your ass had you half screaming and half crying from the pleasure. You were shaking and drooling as Rolan used your tight little ass as his own personal fuck toy. He was so damn meaty, this you knew, and those thick veins- the thick ridges that adorned it only added to his girth… “R-r-Rolan!!! Aha- ah- NGH- W-WAIT!!! S’TOO MUCH- TOO MUCH- AHHH~!!!”

Kieran just chuckles at your broken screams before grabbing you by the throat, “Don't be such a whore, we don't want the whole city hearing you, now do we?”

The look you were giving him was so precious, he only wish he could make a painting of it. Those big doe eyes filled with tears, cheeks flushed, and lips plump and red as you bit your bottom lip. And the way those tits of yours jiggled as Rolan was mercilessly using your ass… It was beautiful.

“That’s a good girl, we wouldn’t want some slimy man stumbling upon us and stealing our treasure would we?”

You whimpered and shook your head as Kieran pressed his thumb against your lip, “Or would you enjoy that? Some man, or a group finding you being defiled by two hellspawns, our cocks filling your holes-“ he forced his thumb into your mouth and watched as you sucked and slobbered all over it, “Is that what you'd like, doll?” His eyes were dark, his thumb pushing further in as you choked on it, your eyes watering once more, “A crowd of men touching themselves, watching you and waiting their turn while you're fucked into oblivion by the two of us-“

“Kieran!” Rolan growled, “That’s quite enough! There will be no others!”

The tatted up tiefling looked at Rolan as he gave a smirk, shrugging while he removed his thumb from your mouth, a line of drool connecting the digit to your plump lips, which were still parted, “I was just asking the lady what she would enjoy. She can't exactly answer anyway, can she? You’re using like some common whore, mage boy~ Cutting off her words and making her cry- what a brute, you should apologize to her.”

Rolan huffed, but then looked down at your face, and how blissed out you were, the way your tongue was hanging out and the way you were drooling before thrusting his hips harder. Kieran just grinned and leaned back, taking in the view of your body being wrecked by Rolan.

He could see the way you were getting close, how you were starting to tremble, how your eyes rolled back and your legs started shaking like a newly born fawn. But just as you were about to reach your high, Rolan pulled out, leaving your ass gaping.

“Awh, now that’s just cruel, Rolan.” Kieran smirked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with his finger.

“R-Rolan?” Your voice was shaky, the high you were riding leaving you confused and dazed, your vision a little blurry and unfocused. The wizard gave you a smile as he rubbed your hips, kissing your shoulder, his lips soft against your skin.

“Trust me, my dear.” He twirled you around, his tail snaking around your leg to help him hoist you up. He pressed his cock against your entrance, feeling the heat radiating from it, your slickness dripping down and staining his robe. With a single thrust, he was deep inside you, the feeling of your walls squeezing him causing him to let out a soft groan. He gave you a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you, his tail coiling tighter around your thigh, “say my name, darling, I want to hear your lovely voice.”as you sing for me- only for me~”

Rolan was panting as he rammed his hips against you, his pace hard and brutal as he held you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as his fingers dug into your sides.

“R-ROLAN!!~ MM’ROLAN! ROLAN!!! M’YOURS~”

Well that just won’t do…

The cherry of Kieran’s cig flared up as he took another drag before blowing a cloud of smoke into your face. The way you coughed and scrunched your nose up in disgust was absolutely adorable.

Tangling his sharp nails in your hair, he yanked your head back, your neck straining as he kissed you- forcing his tongue to explore every crevice of your mouth. Once you were out of breath, he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths before he licked his lips and smiled at you, “whose are you, princess?”

Rolan saw the way Kieran was looking at you… He should’ve known the bastard was up to something…

Taking advantage of that gaping asshole you have, he thrusts his thick cock in and begins pounding away. The noises that fall from his lips are downright sinful. The way your eyes widen and the way you scream out his name, oh yes, now that is music to his ears.

You felt so full, stretched beyond what you ever thought possible, your gummy walls from both holes clinging to the large cocks that invaded your warmth, “M-my- my body! I-it's yours! Ha-Ahh~ It's y-your- ngh-! I-It's y-your toy!!! Mmgh!!~ Y-you can do whatever y-you- hah- want with me- ah~ Rolan~ ROLAN!! KIERAN!!! M’YOURS!!!”

Kieran gave a sinister laugh as he bit down on your neck hard enough to break the skin. Blood pooled in his mouth as his tongue lapped over the wound. You tasted sweet, sweeter than any wine or liquor he's ever had. You were perfect, “such a pretty little cocksleeve” His fingers pinching and pulling at one of your nipples, yanking it to stretch out the sensitive bud, earning a loud cry from you.

You were fucked senseless for what felt like hours… Until finally they both erupted inside you. Rolan’s hot cum filling your womb, Kieran’s searing seed painting your bowels a pretty white… You were filled so full that you could feel how their white messes spilled past their cocks and onto the dank alley floor.

You had been reduced to a babbling, drooling, sloppy mess… Your tongue lolling out still as Rolan and Kieran pulled out, their thick cum pouring out of your stretched abused holes…

Kieran just tapped your cheek thank you for such a good time, and Rolan simply kept you in his arms- covering you with his robe before hoisting you up bridal style so that he could carry you back to his tower…

[wakacreations]

Kinktober Day 3: Raphael Breeding

Author's Note:

I don't usually write smut but what better month to learn how to during this month. I honestly spin a wheel to determine which infernal I write about so far it has been Raphael.

Pairing: Raphael x F! Tav/Reader

Content: NSFW - Dubcon, Choking, Breeding,

Word Count: 1215

Summary:

"Could the mouse honestly believe they can scurry away so easily?" Raphael catches Tav going back on their deal. What is the punishment for stealing back their contract in the House of Hope? Reminding them why they signed their name away the first time around. "The good thing is though, there's only one little voice you really should listen to. Mine."

“You were always my favorite client. Oh, how much you fought, begged and stole to keep your hide intact.” He purred.

“There is a tenaciousness to you little mouse.” The jingle of bells grew nearer with every step you took towards the portal.

“You have the audacity to defy the fates, to face the gods and to deny people of their rightful days of reckoning.” You feel the warmth of Hellfire pressed against your back.

“While I do not mind whatever chaos you leave in your wake, it is your realm after all. I am the Fox who warns and watches, a humble guide if you will.” The brush of a heated breath licks at your ear. 

“Yet, you chose to not heed the caution I bestowed upon you. I went through all the pleasantries as I am but the most gracious host.” A giant arm envelops you from behind, wrapping itself tight around your waist.

“There is only so much I can tolerate.” He growled, feeling the rumble of his chest on your back.

“You will pay for all your manners of conduct in this home, mouse.” His claws come to grip your delicate throat squeezing in warning of what is to come. A dark chuckle fills your ear as you feel him twitch alive at your backside. Your lower muscles clench at the contact. You desperately claw at his firm hand feeling your head grow lighter. Your vision blurring at the edges.

“I can easily snap you with the twitch of my palm. I still have half the mind to do so.” He rolled his hips against your plush behind. Your vision darkens the smell of cherries and smoke fills your nostrils. Flames licked up your body singeding you as the heat roamed, stinging your skin. You shivered at the cool silk brushes underneath you.

“I am in the business of being a savior than just being a mere devil,” releasing their grip on your airways. You take a deep breath in, feeling a flush of warmth spread through you as the sudden blood rush to your head. Colors danced in your vision all wavering and vivid. The softness of his cheek brushes against yours.

“Do not move, less if you have any ounce of self preservation or do. The outcome will lead to my own pleasure in the end.” The devil spoke into your ear. The bed groaned. The pressure on your back disappears, a tail wraps your ankle dragging you to the edge of the bed. 

“You enjoy our little games, mouse that much is evident. You fear what you crave.“ His hands grab fists full of your ass, your hips grind into the bedding.

“Always so eager to respond to temptation,” a smirk played on his lips as he parted your cheeks.

“Try as you might to escape me. Your arousal says otherwise,” rubbing his thick rod against your slick, coating his ridges.

“Admit you love my attention and pleasure,” sharply thrusting into you. You scream a high pitched wail clutching at the sheets. The searing stretch as his cock forces you to accommodate his hefty girth, his infernal ridges catching on your tight walls, pressing further till he's completely seated inside. A tremble shudders through you from a mix of your pain and arousal to his overwhelming punishing thrusts. Tears prickle in your eyes when you feel him kiss your cervix. You whimper into the silk.

“You will not hide from me, mouse.” A firm strike lands on your soft cheek, rippling before him. You yelp, feeling his heated hand print leaving his mark. His.

“Keep your head raised. You will not deny me,” rubbing his palm over your reddened cheek. He moves his hips inside you, pulling out and slamming back in. Through each long rough stroke, you feel him, all of him. The way his ridges rake against your quivering walls as you try to cling desperately for any amount of pleasure. A low groan escapes him in approval. His clawed hand reaches into your hair pulling you towards him.

“Derive any pleasure you can. Beg for it if you must. You will accept all that I am.” His voice gone ragged, his thrusts quickened as he chased his pleasure. You try to angle away from his punishing blows but his arm presses your hips down keeping you in place. Where you truly belong. A sudden rush of his burning seed spills into you, marking you within. Tears stream down your face as you feel him pump into you pushing his seed deeper.

“You know my appetite is insatiable, little mouse. You will come to enjoy it, won't you?” Another sharp strike to your cheek, you cry out. He moans, hips stuttering at your sudden clench.

“Yes! That is it, love. I will take you again and again till you know nothing else.” His tail whipping blow after blow on your backside littered your cheeks with bruising kisses. Moans fall from you in an endless stream, bracing yourself for each delicious sting. Your hips pressed back into the cambion's. His ragged breathing fills your ears.

“I will fill you to the brink, mouse. Your womb will know only I. You will ache, you will beg for my seed to take root deep inside of you. Isn't that what you want? To stay here within my walls?” Raphael pressed his weight into you. The warmth of his chest on your back. His arms come to wrap around you driving his cock to carve into you. The flap of his wings cast a shadow overhead. His face nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder.

“How long will you fight against me, Tav?” You whimpered, his fangs running against the column of your throat, sucking and biting as you shiver from pleasure. 

“You are mine!” His hips moving in a feverish frenzy, sinking his teeth into you. There will be no else but him. You cry out as you feel him collide into you with full force. “Nothing but you,” as you feel the growing tension build from within.

“That's right, such a good little mouse. You will remember. You will learn. You will never forget,” he roared, emphasizing with each buck of his hips. Your senses are assaulted by him.

The burning heat of his body that presses and melds with your own, the deep rich sultry voice that coats his words of deprive temptations, the weight of their ribbed cock that sits heavy in your stomach demanding you take in their wide girth, and the intoxicating smell of sweet cherries linger on your skin. What is there left of you in this body of yours?

“Who do you belong to?” His hands come to deliver a harsh twist to your nipples. The tension within drives you mad. You raise your hips to grind against him, to gain whatever pleasure he generously bestowed onto you. You feel his claws press on your throat, the familiar weightlessness returns. Whatever he desires. Your toes clench as you come undone, feeling his engorged cock filling you once more, spilling out of your abused hole. An inhuman roar piercing through the air. 

“Raphael,” you utter when their grip slackened. Three burning eyes stare down from above as your exhaustion takes hold.

[fromlinkon]

starfall • xavier [沈星回]

pairing: xavier x witch!mc

genre: angst

tags: xavier as prince of philos, black magic, forbidden love, royalty au, slow burn, fatal attraction

word count: 8047 (one-shot)

synopsis: willingness, coercion—they all mean the same in this castle, it seems. a witch of the coven, you must take fate into your own hands when the king threatens to exile any form of magic that isn't a 'legitimate' evol. unfortunately, a darling prince might stand in the way of your plans.

author’s note: cross-posting this from my ao3! please enjoy and don't blame me if you start bawling by the end of this.

song rec: hijo de la luna

“Again.”

Nearly broken and slick with sweat, I brush the hair out of my face and bring my hands before me once more. Muttering the same old incantations beneath my breath, ribbons of shadows and smoke begin to conjure at the center of the lair and take the shape of a serpent. Mona barely glances at me, focused on the iridescent liquid bubbling at the pit of her cauldron.

My heart races as the serpent slithers around the room, outstretched fingers guiding its direction as it begins to wrap around Mona’s legs. She pays no mind, adding a sprig of rosemary to her concoction as the shadows fight to keep her immobile. With a frustrated yank, I pull the serpent away from her and the shadows dissipate in a cloud of mist.

“Better,” is all she says, setting her ladle aside and turning back to me. Her aged eyes meet mine, lined with kohl and feline. She glides across the room, grasping my hands in hers with what I convince myself is desperation. “You must continue to hone your Evol.”

My ‘Evol’. What a funny way to refer to dark magic.

The very same dark magic that was not a gift granted at birth, but learned over time. The same that was outlawed in Philos and considered unruly, barbaric.

“I will,” I promise halfheartedly, exhaustion bleeding through my tone. Falling into the wide velvet armchair at the corner of the lair, I trace patterns on the purple fabric with a sigh. “I’m quite nervous, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s natural,” Mona replies, returning to the overflowing cauldron. “But the cause is much greater than you, or myself, or any single one of us.” She conjures a ribbon of shadow around the base of the cauldron, preventing the flow of the potion she’d been brewing from spilling over into the rest of the lair. “You must do this for all of the oppressed, for all of the broken.”

“How poetic,” I scoff, never particularly sold by the unnecessary eloquence of the coven.

“Continue like that, and another set of parents will perish at the hands of the king like your own.”

Within a split second, I thrust an enraged flurry of shadows at Mona to engulf her when she raises a hand, the invisible barrier causing them to melt into thin air. She simply laughs at my outburst, the sound haughty and condescending. I roll my eyes, pressing fingers to my temple.

“You better control those little outbursts of yours when you enter the castle.”

“Fine.” Thoughts of roaming the castle halls, what the innards must look like, and who I might encounter flood my mind. It was all a part of Mona’s grand scheme as leader of the coven. With dark magic a dying, illegal practice, and the rise of pressure on the king to banish all impure Evols, it was necessary to take it upon ourselves to infiltrate the castle and convince them otherwise.

Or, more delicately put, murder the king.

The same king that had ordered the execution of my parents just light of a decade ago, for harboring children of the witches’ coven. Heaven forbid a child go without starving or shelter. The witches were kind in return, recognizing that I’d not been gifted with an Evol and adopting me as their own.

Mona was cruel, but she cared. She knew we needed to survive.

“Be cautious, my child,” she says in a softer tone as she places the vial of deep amethyst liquid in my hands. She was smart in ensuring we slowly poisoned the king. A dagger to the heart was too flashy, too obvious. Slow and steady would send him to his deathbed all the same without suspicion. I nod once, securing it in my satchel and returning to my own cottage at the far end of the woods.

We lived just outside of the town square, deep enough into the forest beyond village borders but close enough to be civil with the commonfolk. Many of us held jobs in the village, as seamstresses or farmhands—or otherwise. I had an uncanny ability to read and chart the stars, something my father loved to show me when I was a child and I’d grown to love on my own.

The crown quickly learned of this, of my telling fortunes for coin and charting the planets for agriculture and trade. Farmers awaited my predictions, of high-yield seasons to come and poor times for marriages. Truthfully, a good majority of my predictions were based on my reading people’s behavior, the way they’d whisper amongst themselves and their body language.

But, if blaming the stars and the skies brought them some sense of peace and money in my pocket, who would I be to deny them such a valuable service?

My cottage was warm by the time I entered, a fire roaring at its center and both black cats settled in their usual nest of blankets before it. I lower onto my haunches, stroking their heads gently as they snored against one another.

“Tomorrow is the day, my loves,” I whisper, scratching behind Atlas’ ear as Ayla rolled beside him. “Daphne will take great care of you while I’m gone.”

Mona had arranged for Daphne to care for my home while I was at the palace, an unusual gesture of kindness. Though, I suppose it would be the bare minimum to do if I were staying at the castle with the possibility of being hanged around every corner.

I spend the night packing, humming along to the sounds of the gramophone in my drawing room and ensuring that the vial of poison is particularly tucked away within my robes. Stacks of hand-drawn maps and books on astrology are next, along with pieces of moonstone and amethyst. The last is the silver locket given to me by my mother, carved in the shape of a crescent moon.

Setting the luggage beside the front door, I douse the fire and settle onto my armchair for another sleepless night.

* * *

The royal escort finds me in the town square the next morning, garnering attention from passers-by and merchants as I hand off my bags and follow them into the gilded carriage. The crowd speculates my assignment to the castle in a flurry of rumors, some assuming I was being recruited to find a match for the prince and others speculating in hushed whispers that the king was ill.

I ignore them, offering a gentle smile and drawing the curtains shut as I stare back nervously at the advisor that had been sent to receive me. His expression is stoic, his white hair nearly the same shade as the silver jewels that adorn his frock coat and the metal of his blade. He stares at me wordlessly, refusing to return my smile as I narrow my eyebrows at him in confusion.

“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, you know,” I tout, crossing my arms and glaring at the drawn shades. The carriage rocks as we pull away from the town square, along the incline towards the castle at the top of the hill. He still refuses to answer, his expression unreadable. I forfeit trying to make conversation with him and recite the lines of my façade in my head a thousand times over before we pull through the towering gold and silver gates that isolate the castle from the commonfolk below.

A pair of handmaids take my luggage to a different end of the castle as the haughty advisor directs me to the throne room, through a winding series of marbled pillars and hallways that lead to tall, golden doors. He enters first, announcing my full name in my arrival and gesturing for the guards to pry open both doors so that I could enter.

I move slowly across the navy and gold rugs, the only pop of color in an otherwise bare white marble room. The king sits at the end, his gray eyes fixed on mine as I stand before him. I press my hands together and bow before him, the sleeves of my indigo robes billowing over my wrists as I straighten. He nods his head in approval, the doors shutting behind me ever so slowly until the room is silenced.

“His Majesty, King Alaric of Philos.”

“I have heard much of you, child,” he begins, aged hands grasping the carved arms of his throne. His gaze is cold, soulless—much like I’d imagined. My heart pounds against my ribcage, his voice barely audible as I pray to the spirits that he’s not so observant to recognize whose child I was. “The village speaks highly of your abilities.”

“It is thanks to my Evol, Your Majesty.” The forged script rolls of my tongue naturally, just as I’d practiced. “Asterokinesis has proven to be fruitful for the people of Philos.”

“It is a gift of the most high,” he commends, gesturing a hand to the heavens. I fight to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “The power to read and manipulate the energies of the stars is incredibly powerful. I appreciate your … willingness to serve the crown in its higher purpose.”

Willingness, coercion—they all mean the same in this castle, it seems.

“I assume Alexander has explained your duties?” he asks, gesturing to the grouch that had led me into the castle and away from the village. I glance back at him, his steely gaze lifted to the king as he nods once.

“That’s the most I’ve gotten out of him thus far,” I scoff, turning back to the king as he surprisingly laughs at my comment. “I look forward to charting on your behalf—for the future of Philos and beyond.”

“Excellent,” he replies, his tone finite as he lifts himself from the throne. “See to it that you are comfortable during your stay. I expect regular reports on your progress documenting this exceptional power of yours.”

He disappears into a corner of the room, through a different pathway from which I’d entered. The guards around me blink in silence, offering no sign that I was dismissed. With a frustrated sigh, I bow before the throne once more and turn to exit the room.

* * *

The handmaids instructed me that my chambers were not yet ready, leaving me to roam the halls of the castle and grow accustomed to my new home for the next several months. The sun has set, streaks of maroon and ruby across the skies as night crawls over its light in a burst of stars and moonlight.

I find myself in a garden at the far end of the palace grounds, bushels of cosmos and hyacinth sprawling across walls covered in vines and moss. A vast fountain sits at its center, carved out of glittering moonstone and aged marble. Sitting at its edge, I glance at my reflection in the water surrounded by the stars above. I lower a hand into the water, ripples dancing around the silver cuffs at my wrists as I hum gently. The water settles, and a foreign figure stares back at me through his reflection.

I gasp in surprise, turned and ready to unsheathe the dagger strapped to my thigh when the man throws his hands up in surrender. He blinks back at me, seemingly startled by my reaction. There’s a hint of amusement on his face, his blue-gray eyes dancing under starlight.

“I mean no harm,” he promises, and I remove my hand from my dagger.

He’s much taller than me, slim but built. His hair is a peculiar shade of silver and blonde, falling in wisps over his eyes. His uniform is different from that of the other royal guards, who were traditionally clad in navy and gold. His suit was well-fitted, tailored perfectly to him and layered in fabrics of silk and wool. My eyes flicker to the crest pinned to his lapel, and I swallow when I realize who was standing before me.

“Prince Xavier,” I stammer, curtsying to lower my head before him.

“Were the formalities not warranted for when you were about to pull out your dagger upon me?” he asks, and I’m almost afraid to laugh along with him.

“I—You can never be too cautious,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest as I continue to drink in his features. I’d never seen the prince in person before, though I’d heard countless rumors that he was handsome, painfully so.

I’d say the rumors were true.

“Understandable, but you are in the most secure location on Philos,” Xavier offers, reaching to uncross my arms and place them at my sides. “Calm down.”

“I haven’t been in the most secure location on Philos before today, Your Grace,” I bite back, struggling to hide the edge in my voice. “You’d forgive me if you consider how disreputable the commoners’ villages are compared to behind these gilded gates.”

“Fair,” he surrenders, though I notice the way his jaw tightens at my comment. “So, I take it you are the mystery astrologer that has been tasked to help my father in his expansion of Philos?”

“The very same. I live and breathe to serve the king.”

“Such enthusiasm,” he chuckles, detecting the sarcasm in my voice and I finally loosen a little at the sound of his laugh. “I’m sorry for sneaking up on you. I don’t get to spend much time outside of the castle, so I was quite excited to know there would be someone my own age here.”

“Are there not young handmaidens in the castle?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I suppose you don’t spend much time with them beyond giving orders,” I conclude, and the shame that flushes his cheeks confirms my suspicions. The wind that begins to pick up barely tousles his perfectly styled hair or the circlet that sits upon it. “Forgive me if I overstep. It’s been a long day.”

“Also understandable.” Xavier’s eyes trail over what feels like every inch of me, returning to mine with newfound kindness. “Well, let me not keep you from an evening of solitude.” He bows his head gracefully, with the kind of grace only a royal possessed. “My lady.”

With that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the halls of the castle as I stare after him.

* * *

The room I’d been assigned sat not far from the gardens, on the third floor where I could see out towards the horizons of Philos. Sunlight peeks through sheer linen curtains, reminding me that the world was awakening when I’d just barely been falling asleep. I look down at the atlas and charts before me, notes scribbled by quill and ink across the pages of my worn leather-bound journal. If it were difficult for me to get a good night’s sleep on a regular basis, last night was no exception coupled with the nerves of my first day of serving the king.

“All right,” I sigh, stretching my hands high above my head. Glancing over at my luggage, I narrow my eyes at the way I’d found my clothes disheveled and rummaged through. Little did the guards realize that a witch’s hands were nimble and that hiding dark magic in the seams of her trunk, no matter how closely they searched.

A bang on the bedroom doors force me to jump, about to reach for my dagger on the bedside table when the guard’s voice carries into the room.

“His Majesty has provided a list of tasks for you,” he calls, and I roll my eyes. “You will report to the library promptly after breakfast.”

“Understood,” I call back, fighting against the urge to follow up with a snarky remark. I turn back to my luggage, the pile of robes and silks I’d brought along catching my eye. Settling on a royal blue and silver specked robe, I draw a bath with oils of eucalyptus and sage in an effort to focus.

When I enter the library, my jaw nearly drops to the floor.

A spiral staircase sits at its center, mirroring the marble and gold of the rest of the castle. Surrounding it is towers of bookcases, each lined with hundreds of novels, records, and spirit knows all else. The staircase leads to a balcony that houses a telescope and sundial, a pairing made for an expert stargazer. Upon entry, the guards instructed that I map the coordinates of the castle in relation to the rest of Philos, and map what direction the royal guard should follow in military operations.

For all I know, I could toss a coin and they’d believe my answer.

I follow their orders nimbly, scaling the staircase with my satchel and settling into a corner of the outlook with the maps I’d brought along. Scattering them across the marble floor beneath me, I pull out the notes I’d jotted and begin to study them extensively. Even if it were for show—it still needed to be convincing, did it not?

Hours pass as the sun crawls across the sky towards the west. Around me were pages of notes with the coordinates based on weather patterns in Philos, ones that the military could loosely follow while I worked on whatever other awful tasks the king would arrange. Arranging them into a stack, I tuck them into the folds of my journal before opting to descend the staircase for a short break.

The library was quiet, only the sounds of my sandals against the floors echoing amongst the bookcases. My fingers trail over hardcovers and paperbacks, selecting a handful to skim over stories of past nobles and the records of how Philos came to be.

And it was on the seven-hundredth and twenty-ninth day of the Great War that the dark magic was ousted by His Highest Majesty, King Alaric—Guardian of Philos and Beyond.

Slamming the records shut, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the way the king pat himself on the back for the mistreatment of those that were nothing short of different. Just as I’m about to set the book back in its place, a pair of blue-gray eyes meet mine through the shelves and I yelp in surprise.

As I return a book, a chuckle rounds the corner and Xavier stands before me. He wear a uniform similar to yesterday, an opulent arrangement of robes with the pin on his lapel. A grand sword is strapped across his back, held in its sheath. He looks elegantly put together, though it does little to hide the dirt and grime that scuffs his skin and hair.

“Can I help you?” I ask, biting my tongue at the lack of formality due to my surprise. “I-I mean—”

“Now, now,” Xavier stops me, raising a hand. “As I said before, no need for the formalities. I was just taking a break from combat training and found you here—a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh,” is all I reply.

“Have you had a productive session?” he asks, gesturing to the balcony above. “I saw when you came down the staircase, though you seemed incredibly fixated on these boring old war records.”

“I was taking a break of my own,” I admit, turning to the towering bookshelves behind me. “I find the history of our great land quite interesting—don’t you?”

“Quite,” he replies dryly, and I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure it’s a lot more interesting when you’re not forced to regurgitate it like clockwork as a child.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair,” I surrender, embarrassment flushing my cheeks as my eyes gaze over the titles of several of the records. My mind blanks in an attempt to fill the silence.

“So, you can read the stars.”

“And you pay attention.”

“Can you read my stars?” he asks, jutting out his palm. I know what he means—if I can decipher his personality, his deepest, darkest desires. A sign for his future, an affirmation for his present, and an explanation for his past.

“Is this the order of a royal?” I jest, earning another laugh from him as I take his hand in mine. Though his features are soft, his hands are rough and calloused—likely from wielding weapons tirelessly. While my eyes trace the etching on his palm, I scoff and glance back up at him. “You do understand that palm reading is no more than a gimmick when it comes to birth charting?”

“Is it?” he asks, clearing his throat sheepishly. “I thought this was how it works.”

“In children’s stories, maybe. Reading fortunes from a palm and calling it starwork is an insult.” I lower his hand in my theatrics, gesturing to the balcony where the sun had begun to set. “Come, I’ll show you how it works as the stars begin to appear.”

We scale the staircase once again, the sun nearly gone by the time I’d returned. My charts and notes sat in the corner, still in its original position. I settle onto the pile of blankets and pillows nestled in the corner, gesturing for Xavier to join me as I glance up at the darkening sky. Xavier removes his sword from its sheath, setting it beside him with a resounding clink as he lowers himself comfortably.

“When were you born?” I ask, noticing the way that the stars had begun to reflect in the blues of his eyes.

Focus.

“The sixteenth of October.”

“Ah, a Libra!” I answer, mentally shuffling through my experiences with the air sign.

Daphne was also a Libra. He does act a bit similarly to her—it should have been obvious.

Glancing up at the stars, I lift an index finger to trace along the constellations and bite my bottom lip as I gather my thoughts. Xavier observes in silence, his eyebrows raised slightly out of curiosity as he follows along with the notes that I scribble onto my journal.

“The sign of the scales,” I begin, outlining the constellation that sat high above us against the raven skies. “Right there.” Taking Xavier’s hand in mine, I straighten his index finger towards the symbol and follow along its edges. Lowering his hand, I continue. “You have a strong moral compass. One that is well respected in a position of authority.”

“What a shock,” he answers sarcastically, and I furrow my brows as I think deeper about how to play into this ‘Evol’ of mine.

“You can be incredibly susceptible to pleasing others before yourself—a dangerous habit. It means when you finally have the opportunity to indulge yourself, you might not be able to stop.” Xavier’s gaze meets mine, and his cheeks flush at the comment.

“You have long had to hide your emotions, a double-edged sword. One that gives little away in a difficult position as king, but makes for a terrible lover.”

“And all of this you learn from these stars?” he asks, gesturing to the constellation I’d outlined. I nod, and he crosses his armored hands across his chest. “Would I make a good king?”

“Yes,” I answer nearly immediately, though I ignore the façade of the stars for a moment as I remember what brought me to the castle in the first place. “So long as you make your own decisions. Tradition is the downfall of many.”

“Bold statement in the highest home in all of Philos,” he scoffs, and I shrug as I gesture back towards the skies above us.

“You asked me to provide a service, which I did. The stars’ answers are not my own.”

“And you use this ability to predict even military activity?”

He knew what the king had assigned me to chart.

“Yes,” I repeat, gathering my notes before me and preparing to offer the monologue I’d give the king in the morning. “The rebellion sits at the far West of the kingdom, near the gates to the seas. If they are able to access those seas, the stars show that the tides will bode well for them to gather wind in their sails to get as far as the neighboring territory. The royal guard will need to arrive at the western post as soon as the end of this week if they anticipate to quell the rebellion.”

Reading moon cycles was no difficult feat, but ousting the hopes of other commoners seeking a better life outside of Philos surely was. Nonetheless, it was necessary to make sure I didn’t lose my own head in this palace.

“That … is impressive,” Xavier concludes, gazing over the labyrinth of constellations and moon cycles I’d illustrated before him. “Is this something you can teach? At least the knowledge that comes with your Evol.”

“I cannot outwardly teach you what has been gifted to me,” I answer carefully, nearly choking on the lie that I could manipulate the stars, “but I can help you learn how to chart this information.”

“This would be incredibly beneficial as king,” he ponders, fingertips tapping against the linens beneath us. “Being able to predict the movements of an opposing force without even having to send men in myself. It would mean less lives at risk, though relying on the stars’ answers has its own risks.”

“Hasn’t gotten me killed yet,” I answer dryly, and Xavier fails to stifle his laugh. I can’t help but smile, pleasantly surprised by the prince’s ability to take a joke well. “I can teach you, then. Join me each nightfall after supper.”

“Your wish is my command.”

* * *

And so, we fall into a cycle like clockwork. Xavier spends his day training to become the next king, hours spent in history lessons and combat trials. I sit in the library, archiving constellations and moon cycles to share with the royal guard with answers to the king’s suspiciously specific requests. I see little of the king himself, spending so much time locked away in the library or sneaking off to the garden that sits beneath my room.

Xavier and I have supper separately, mine with the handmaidens and his with the fellow nobles. I was no more than a servant to the king in this role, after all. The young ladies are kind, telling me stories of the handsome Prince Xavier and their days in the village before they were granted the ‘opportunity’ to serve His Majesty.

Oh, boy.

They fail to notice the poison that trickles out of its vial each time I visit, landing into the daily pot of stew intended for the king each night.

It’s a pity that he’s seem to come down with something.

Xavier and I ascend the staircase when all grows quiet, settling into navy and gold blankets beneath us with a flurry of stars scattered across an ebony canvas above. He began to bring his own journal, taking diligent notes and asking an unnecessary amount of questions. I explain how to chart faraway planets and the rotation of the stars, what it means for the constellations to align and how to read weather patterns.

Our nights were not all work. He recounts the time he spent in combat, how he would have to repeat sparring drills nearly a hundred times before Alexander would let him retire for the evening. He would demonstrate, unsheathing his grand sword and casting his own Evol before me—the power of light.

Ironic, it was—light and dark magic coming together.

It’d been nearly a month of charting stars for the king when I’d received correspondence from Mona asking for progress. I write back in encrypted ink, letting her know that the castle was well under the impression that I was their greatest militant resource and that the king had been fighting a nasty cold. I let her know that the poison was nearly at its end, which meant it would not be long before its full effects began to set in.

Placing the tattered paper into the crow’s beak, it bows its head as it descends from my balcony into the night skies. A knock at my door causes me to flinch, the sound resounding against the hammering in my chest as I hurry to answer.

Xavier stands before me, grinning excitedly as he extends a hand toward me. I raise an eyebrow in question, glancing at the sundial perched atop my dressing table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at supper?”

“As are you,” he retorts. “But I saw you standing out on your balcony.”

I still, praying to every spirit that he was unable to see the letter I’d slipped in the crow’s beak.

“So, how can I assist you?” I ask, leaning against the gilded doorframe. “Our lesson isn’t for another hour.”

“I think we ought to skip the lesson,” he replies in a hushed tone, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Covered in cloaks, we hurry to the furthest end of the garden beneath my bedroom where the towering stone wall secured the castle from all outside. Counting beneath his breath, I watch as Xavier presses his fingers to one of the stones and it falls deeper into its crevice.

Suddenly, a hatch unlocks beneath the overgrown vinery and I gasp in surprise, following behind him into the quiet night just behind the castle grounds. The sound of horse hooves on gravel captures my attention, a towering white stallion standing at the ready beside us.

“How did he get here?” I ask, confused as all hell as Xavier begins to untie the binds of his halter and lead. Xavier simply chuckles, unfastening the ropes as he turns to me.

“Alexander left him here for me—or well, us.” His cheeks grow rosy at his own statement before he clears his throat. “Even the most stately prince needs a night off of the grounds.”

“And I am going … why, exactly?”

Xavier ghosts his hands just before my waist, a silent request for consent as I nod once. He grabs onto my waist, his touch gentle yet strong as he guides me onto the horse’s saddle. I’d never needed help getting onto my own horse in the village, but it felt nice to not be in charge for once. He follows soon after, landing in front of me with a tight grip on the reins.

Instinctively, I wrap my hands around his slender waist and he flinches in surprise, taking a moment to relax at the touch.

“I want to show you something,” he turns back to me to reply, adjusting himself before whipping the horse onwards.

We ride across the plains that stretch behind the castle, a part of the kingdom I’d never seen before. Lush greenery surrounds us all around, towering pine and cypress trees meeting glimmering lakes that held the reflection of the full moon above. The night was quiet and clear, my arms firmly wrapped around Xavier as I fight the urge to lower my head against his shoulder.

It takes some time before we come to a stop at a clearing just about a mile from the castle, perched high above the rest of the fields. A grand wisteria tree sits at its center, lilac branches hanging low and swaying with the gentle breeze. Xavier brings the stallion to the tree, tying its lead to a branch before helping me dismount. I inhale deeply, the floral scent bringing warmth to my lungs as I let out a blissful sigh.

“This is beautiful,” I remark, settling onto the ground beside the tree’s trunk and taking in the fields below. We were far from the central villages of Philos that sat beneath the castle, on the opposite end of the continent towards militant territory. Commoners were often too afraid to enter these grounds out of fear of being captured—or worse.

Xavier sits beside me, removing his cloak and fixing his tousled blonde hair. His deep sigh mimics my own, hands in his lap as a serene smile stretches across his face.

“I know,” he answers, and I ignore the way that his gaze lingers over me as I keep my eyes fixated on the landscape. He clears his throat nervously, following my eyes to look out at the skies. “I came here a lot when I was younger with my mother. She loved to look at the stars—maybe not as much as you, but she came close.”

“The queen was such a lovely woman,” I reply softly, looking up at the way the wisteria swayed in response. “Taken from us too soon.”

I meant every word I said. The queen was a kind, competent leader. She cared deeply for her people and protected the most vulnerable. Her death came as a shock to the people of Philos, falling ill at such a young age and leaving the kingdom in the hands of her husband who sought to rule with a vengeance.

“She was,” Xavier answers remorsefully, his voice heavy with a strange kind of sadness. “I’m sure she would have enjoyed your company very much.”

“Do you?” I jest, and he offers a shrug that earns a shove in response.

“Occasionally.” Xavier moves to stand, offering his hand to me. I take it, still noticing the way his hand was rugged from the scars of sparring. He winces at the pressure and I apologize nearly instantly. “It’s alright—just a practice wound.” The pain etched across his face is quickly masked by the bright-eyed expression I knew him to have. “Now, then. Have you forgotten what tonight is?”

“I—Have I?”

“The meteor shower,” he answers, and I widen my eyes as I fight to come up with an excuse as to why I had forgotten. “This is the best view in all of Philos.”

We turn to the skies, staring up at it expectantly as Xavier comments on each constellation he recognizes. I grow tired of praising him, about to snap at him to hush when a flash of light hurdles through the raven night. One by one, a flurry of meteors dance across the sky in streaks of bright white. Gasping under my breath, my eyes grow wide at the sight of each shooting star.

“It’s spectacular,” I comment in a hushed whisper, my eyes fixated on the bursts of starlight as they glide over us. Xavier pays no attention to the skies, his head turned to me as he lets out a gentle sigh of his own.

“It truly is.”

I turn to him, his eyes glimmering with starlight and his expression unreadable. My heart begins to hammer against my ribcage, the distance between us suddenly noticeably close as we hold one another’s gaze under the shower of stars. I watch as Xavier’s breathing grows shallow, his eyes darting between mine and—

He leans in, pressing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss.

I blink in surprise, about to pull away when the only thing I recognize in my mind is how delicious he tastes. I close my eyes, draping my hands around his neck as his find my waist. Xavier’s scent floods my senses—the scent of vanilla and musk, coupled with a hint of the wisteria that hangs around us.

He pulls away from me painfully, lifting a hand to brush the hair out of my eyes as he meets them with a soft smile. The nerves thrumming along my veins serve as a violent reminder that I should sit down. I lower myself onto the tree trunk once again, Xavier joining me and snaking an arm comfortably around my waist.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “For just—being here. Coming to the castle. I know it wasn’t for me, necessarily … but in a strange way, it was. Perhaps my mother sent you.”

My heart aches with guilt, if only for a moment.

“Perhaps.”

We remain like that for a while, the stars continuing to soar above us as we comment on the full moon hanging high above the fields. Xavier asks me to tell him a story about charting from the village and if it were difficult to do so being at a lower vantage point, when I notice him nodding off.

“Hey!” I snap, pinching the corner of his arm and causing him to jerk awake in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he answers sheepishly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you not tired?”

“I—I don’t really sleep much,” I admit, the first time I’d shared the truth with someone that was not Daphne. Xavier freezes, his expression now alert as he glares at me in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t had a real night’s sleep in nearly … twelve years, or so? Right after —”

“After what?”

“… my parents died.”

“How did they die?”

“Traveling accident,” I reply nearly instantly, the lie rolling off of my tongue like honey after saying it all these years. A deep urge festers within me to share the truth with him, to tell him that it was at the orders of his wretched father that they were murdered for protecting hunted children.

Xavier wrestles with his thoughts for a moment, choosing to not answer and instead pulling me into his arms with a chaste kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is gentle, comforting almost. He traces small patterns along my back, the sensation settling my nerves and forcing my eyes to flutter shut. He hums beneath his breath, the sound carrying along the wind as I blink more slowly and slowly in his embrace.

The sky grows blurry, fading into a myriad of starlight and ebony.

* * *

I awake the next morning in bed, tucked between the silks and linens in my bedroom. Jolting up in confusion, I press a hand to my forehead as I try to recount what happened the night prior. Sunlight pours through the sheer drapes, forcing me to rub the sleep from my eyes.

Sleep.

I was asleep.

A note tucked between the pages of my journal catches my eye and I reach to the bedside table to grab it, the sprawling handwriting immediately recognizable.

I hope you had a good night’s rest, if only for a little while.

My cheeks grow warm after reading the note, recognizing that it wasn’t a dream after all. Turning the page over, I notice another request scribbled across the back.

I’d like you to join us for supper tonight. I’ll have the handmaids deliver a gown to your room for the evening.

The day passes much too slowly, my time in the library alcove wasted on poetry written with Xavier in mind.

I return to my bedroom in the evening in defeat, nervous now knowing I’d have nothing to report to the king on the day’s requests. Word-of-mouth from the handmaidens proved that the poison had settled in and began to run its course, the king growing weaker and feeble at the hands of his mystery illness. I anticipated how he would react to my spending dinner with him and the prince, just us three in the royal dining hall.

One of the handmaidens knocks on my door gently, delivering a stunning navy and gold dress that mirrors of the colors of the palace in celestial patterns. It fits perfectly, the color radiant against my skin as the details glimmer under candlelight. I reach into my luggage for a familiar crystal, pressing it to my heart with a deep sigh to rid me of the anxiety that churned in my stomach.

Tucking it back into its satchel, I tap the dagger strapped to my thigh in silent readiness as I follow the guards to dinner.

* * *

The king looks awful.

His eyes are sunken, surrounded by dark circles that cause the steel gray of his eyes to look pure white. He has grown thin and frail, the crown on his head suddenly seeming all too heavy. He struggles to enter the dining hall, guided by the royal physician. Xavier stands across from me near the head of the table, worry etched across his face as he watches his father’s strained movements.

I know that look well—the fear of losing a parent. Although, mine was no tyrant.

Dinner begins uneasily, servings of stewed meats and vegetables brought to us in towers of plates and trays. I pick at the corner of my dish, each of the king’s coughs a reminder that I was to blame for his downfall. The pride I’d originally felt knowing we were one step closer to ending his tyranny had been quickly replaced by the guilt I felt every time I looked over at Xavier.

We fall into a conversation surrounding my ‘Evol’, the training I’d received from my late father in charting the stars and the king’s praises for my efforts to support the expansion of Philos. Even at the door of death, the man was greedy for power.

“I understand you’ve been supporting Xavier in his efforts to learn more about the stars,” the king comments, and I nod. “A remarkable effort. He will need someone like you at his side when he is to ascend the throne.” I offer a feeble smile in return, one that pales in comparison to the proud expression on Xavier’s face.

“Which reminds me.” He turns to Xavier, suddenly appearing more as a king before me than he had been all night. “Have you arranged the correspondence with the royal guard in the villages to enact the latest legislation?” Xavier confirms, and I raise an eyebrow in question. The king glances over at me and notices my confusion. “Thanks to your recent coordinates regarding the rebellion stationed in the neighboring forests, we were able to confirm the grounds to enact an executive order to exterminate all forms of uncontrolled dark magic.”

I freeze, nearly dropping my silverware onto the plate before me. Suddenly, the room is spinning. I can barely hear the king go on to explain that dark magic will be deemed punishable by death on sight, the sound of his voice floating further away as my vision grows hollow.

“I understand many of these … other folk contribute quite handsomely to society,” I reply, choosing my words carefully. “Many of them hold profitable positions in the villages, from what I understand. Would it not be detrimental to the wealth of Philos to … to murder them all? Especially if you can’t pinpoint each and every one of them?”

“Black magic is barbaric and unruly,” Xavier interjects, and I force myself to not unsheathe my dagger at his words. “How can we expect witches to serve our people in the long-term?”

“I—I suppose you’re right,” I surrender, choosing to bite my tongue to hide the utter shock I feel towards Xavier. It was as if a mirror had been shattered and its shards plunged through my heart. This was not the man whose arms I fell asleep in just the night prior. “Well, I wish you luck in your endeavors. Let me know how I can assist.”

“I will be assigning orders to the royal guards by the end of the week,” Xavier explains, finishing his dinner shamelessly. “We must act with haste, given Father’s condition deteriorating so quickly.” The fear in his eyes remains, though his words are sharp with bitterness.

All I do is nod, staring down at the full plate of stew I’d left untouched.

Xavier offers to walk me to my bedroom for the evening, and I oblige.

“Do … do you really feel that way about people practicing dark magic?” I ask gingerly, watching the way Xavier’s jaw stiffens. Even in the dimly lit halls, I can sense the change in his expression.

“It was during the wars against dark magic practitioners that we lost my mother,” he replies, his tone darker than I’d ever recognized. “She insisted in caring for the wounded guards alongside the handmaidens while Father gave orders. We’re quite sure she … she was murdered by a wretched witch.”

“So, you’re going off of an assumption?” I fail to hide the disbelief in my voice as Xavier turns to me with daggers in his eyes. Realizing he’d lost his temper, he sighs and takes my hand in his, tracing along the lines in my palm.

“I’m sorry … it’s a stressful situation. I don’t wish harm on any of the rightful citizens of Philos. But, Father will not hold on much longer given his illness. I need to be prepared, even if that means following tradition and protecting our people from the age-old threat of witchcraft.” He references my early predictions for his rule as king, citing what I’d warned him against. Every word he utters is another crack in my heart, shattering the illusion I’d held, if only for a little while, that one of the royals of Philos actually cared about their people.

And then, the realization hits me.

It’s not just the king I need to kill.

Xavier’s blue-gray eyes narrow in confusion as I begin to tremble, pulling out of his embrace and hastily offering a goodnight before returning to my bedroom for the night. I tear off the opulent gown, exchanging it for my robes as I scribble another note to the coven.

* * *

The king is bedridden.

The excitement I thought I’d feel knowing he was at death’s door is underwhelming, replaced by the dread of who Xavier had become in my eyes—a puritan tyrant no different than his father, even if the wrapping was prettier. I carried on normally to avoid suspicion after my questioning, continuing to chart and read the stars like the good little astrologer I had been hired to be. I saw less of Xavier than usual, given the king’s condition and his preparations to unleash the royal guard on his people.

He visited me in the library from time to time, stealing sweet kisses and sharing his worries for the responsibilities that were to come. I would console him, stroke his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. I would take his hands in mine, telling him that it was written in the stars for all to be righted in the end and for his rule to be fruitful.

At night, I would sob in a way I never knew was possible at the thought of who the prince was.

Mona wrote back nearly instantly the night I’d shared the king and prince’s plans, confirming what needed to be done.

The night before the royal guards were to receive their orders, the prince came to me in a fit of anxiety to see me before he was to leave the castle for a prolonged period of time. I held his hand, telling him we should sneak away to his favorite place in all of Philos to ease his nerves. His eyes brightened at the idea and I beamed at him in return. He arranged for his horse to be in its usual waiting spot, just behind the stone walls of the garden. I let him help me up, and wrapped my arms around his waist as he carried us to the wisteria tree.

We sat beneath the tree in silence, the prince’s arms draped around me as I listened to the beating of his heart. The stars glimmered above us, each of them dancing against ebony as they stared down at us. I could feel my own heart pounding, incantations swimming in my mind as I began to feel dark magic churn at my core and rise to my fingertips.

Xavier takes my hands in his, our fingers intertwined as I glance up at the light dancing in his eyes.

I press my hand to his chest, humming a foreign song beneath my breath as the light begins to dim.

“The stars … the stars are growing dimmer …”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his face unreadable as he continues to stare up at the sky. I choke back the sob I felt crawl up my throat, pressing dark magic deeper into his heart as he begins to gasp for air.

“Why …” he asks, finally turning to me weakly with a gasping breath.

“It was never in the stars for us,” I answer pitifully, and finally let out a cry as the light leaves his eyes.

[feliciafelucia]

Another ancient text from my huge backlog, written over many a catastrophic ovulation.

Maul x reader, 9000 words. 18+

cw: ever so slightly dubious consent, graphic depictions of violence

The slave drivers staff rapped sharply against the tiles of the huge hall as he came to a stop in the centre of the room. He leaned his weight on it, bony wrists jutting from the bright silk robes. He white-knuckled the metal and fidgeted foot-to-foot as he waited for the Zabrak to address him. Maul draped across his throne. He inspected his nails, radiating disinterest.

“Is this the troublesome thing that’s been disrupting my mines?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Let me have a look at it.”

Your captor slammed his shoulder into your back to send you forward. You didn’t budge.

“My Lord,” The weaselly man spoke up, grunting as his next shove failed to move you yet again. “I’d be more than happy to dispose of the fucking thing. Right now, if necce-“

“The fucking thing has a name.” You snapped, lurching at the feel of a hand at your waist. Without a better mind to stop yourself, you elbowed your way out of his grip and took a few steps towards the throne. You heart seized as you willingly walked towards the presence across the hall of Mandalore, so ominous that you couldn’t drag your eyes up from the particular tile that they refused to move from. Your skin buzzed with nerves, every motion feeling staggered as your body screamed at you to run away from the owner of the smooth voice ahead. It took you a few torturous seconds you lift you gaze.

The sight of him froze the panic pumping around your body into a pure, cold fear.

Maul reclined in his throne, legs spread and posture straight. He was a goddamned predator. By design and by the murderous intent emanating from him. His red, tattooed skin and those sharp horns were terrifying, but they didn’t begun to compare to the eyes. The yellow eyes locked onto yours. Intense from across all the distance between you. Knowing, guarded, and hungry for blood. He didn’t even need to look at you. Maul could feel the fear rolling off of you in crushing waves. He could feel every emotion - so much clearer than the usual poor soul who found themselves at the foot of this throne. There wasn’t any part of you shielded. It was strange. Intriguing.

For you, he opted for silence, letting you simmer with your own thoughts on the gruesome fates that could quickly be thrust upon you. But as the silence dragged on, you adjusted your stance wider. You squared your shoulders as much as they could with the binders locking your hands together in front of you. You tilted you chin up so that you could meet his glare dead-on - looking down your nose at him. Like a curse, you said your name with a steady confidence. Like it mattered, demanding respect.

Maul’s teeth bared in bitter amusement, and glanced to his left to share a look with Savage. His brother always knew what he was thinking, and his own yellow lips were pulled into a knowing smirk. Lazily, Maul fixed his attention back on you, and in a moment of benevolence, decided to let you in on what exactly was so funny.

“You stand like the Jedi do before they die.”

“The Jedi die with their hands bound?” Your voice felt detached from your body. That bold tone couldn’t have come from you - you were buzzing with the electricity of adrenaline, heart thrumming like a bird.

“No.”

“Fix the picture then, if it amuses you that much.” You offered your bound wrists in his direction.

His brow raised in surprise. He’d killed plenty of smarter mouths for such a comment, but there was something about it. There was a certain intimacy to being privy to you open emotions. He watched as you wrestled your fear under control and condensed it to a point. Perfectly contained. An entertaining insolence.

“Hmm.” He considered his answer, but the slave driver had taken his pause as an invitation to storm up and seize you by the neck. With considerable effort, he heaved you around to face him, dragging you backwards by the hair so that he could lean over you. You, tilted back with a bent spine.

“What did I tell you? You act your place.” He hissed in your face. From this angle, you could make out all the different shades of yellow in his teeth. Your stomach lurched at the hot feel of his breath, and the spray of spit that left his mouth with his words. “Disrespectful little bitch. Let me kill her, my lord.”

If experiencing your fear was interesting, feeling the disgust and hatred was exhilarating for Maul. He shared your sentiment. He never liked this man. The slicked back hair, the ostentatious silk draping his jagged form, and the weasly smile that Maul had to endure far too often. They reeked of his lack of class.

“You’re the one-“ You chocked as he engaged the electro-cuffs. Your body seized into the familiar convulsions and you slumped to the ground, straining every muscle in a futile attempt to fight off the burning seeping into your bones.

“I’m inclined to oblige you.” Maul’s voice vaguely registered above the ringing in your ears. All you could think of was the soothing cool of the tile against your cheek. Little did you know, Maul’s eyes were on you.

“Thankyou my Lord, I’ll gut her outside where the mess won’t be-“

“Oh not you.”

Your vision was still dark as you dragged yourself to your feet, swaying slightly but doggedly staying upright. Something guided your focus to to Maul, who was… smug. A dangerous expression for him.

“You interrupted me, slaver.”

“Apologies, I-“

The slave driver stepped in front of you to grovel for Maul, flattery and bribery falling from his tongue. But you were deaf to it. Mauls eyes had you frozen. From in the shadows of the slavers sweeping fabrics, you knew his intentions were on you, and yours on him. The babbling faded to the background as the two of you stared.

Your vision was tunnelled in on him, so much so that even from across the vast hall, a minute flick of his wrist made you jump in fright. The tiny movement felt so powerful for some reason, why? Your question was answered when you felt the shackles around you wrists shift. Like a cat, you fell into a deep crouch to catch them before they could hit the floor with a telling clatter.

Like two old friends having a whole conversation with the twitches of a few muscles, you flicked yours eyes to the man orating in front of you, then back to Maul. You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow.

Maul nodded upwards, adjusting in his chair as if settling back for a show.

You weren’t about to lose this opportunity.

Shackles in hand, you stalked up to the slaver, his back to you. After all this time wondering how you were going to kill him, this scenario hadn’t made it into your plans. An open stun-cuff lay in your palm, and a snide comment about his skinny neck popped into your head. But at the forefront of your mind - the way he’d treated you over the span of your forced servitude. Fuck him.

Just as he’d so often done to you, you laced your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and yanked off balance. An indignant yell left the man, who squirmed at the minimal pain of having his hair pulled. You tilted him back, his head rested firmly against your chest, and slammed the open cuff around his throat. The sharp curve wasn’t meant to accomodate a neck, so when you clasped the other half of the cuff shut, his voice caught mid-scream. The inhuman gurgles and gasps that followed were damn deafening, they made your stomach lurch in discomfort. As he spasmed desperately and the wet chokes only continued, you calmly threw him to the ground and began rummaging in his robes.

Having seen him reach into that damn pocket too many times, you knew where to find the control device. The shape ingrained in your mind from hours of that fucking thing being used on you. As soon as your fingers grazed the outline of the metal, you squeezed the button, and the familiar sizzle of electricity and the stink of burning skin quickly replaces the choking as the stun cuffs crackled to life around his neck.

Finally, quiet.

Not missing a beat, you plucked his staff from his twitching hands and got to your feet. The two zabrak hadn’t moved to stop you, and were again sharing that look you’d caught earlier. The metal in your hand felt too smooth, too flimsy. Trust a slaver to carry something just for show.

“What exactly… are you planning on doing with that?” Maul questioned lowly. You don’t know what gave you the impulse to walk closer - you just knew you had an urge to see the two of them up close.

“I’m not sure.” You replied in all honestly. “What exactly you are planning on doing with me?”

“I’m not sure.” Maul shot back as you came to a halt at the foot of his throne - only a few steps away. Up close, his features offered a more intimate intimidation than before. Now, you were not only subjected to his intense scrutiny, but every little judgement he made of your character with the twitch of a facial muscle. “I should have you strung up and left for the rats after all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

“Go on then.” Your already anxiety-knotted stomach tightened even more as you struggled to keep your voice steady, projecting from your belly. Who would have thought the voice you used to call orders across the shitty cantina back home would make its way into a situation like this? “I’d think you’re going soft if you don’t. I cost you more credits than I’ll see in my lifetime. Hundreds of slaves. You’ll never get those mines operating again.”

“Are you trying to goad me, little anarchist?”

“I’m just telling the simple truth.”

“Oh there’s nothing simple about it.” His tone was so soft. Your heart quickened again at the thought of all the violent acts he’d committed while never raising from that insidious pitch. He continued, tilting his head, his horns cutting a dramatic angle against the ornate patterns of his throne. “You’re trying to get yourself run through where you stand.”

“Darksaber’s more glamorous than a whip.”

Maul rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. There was nothing dishonest about you. You said exactly how you felt, with no illusions about who you were and no attempt at deceit. Often, the people before him were not only fearful, but so conflicted and tortured. They tried to deny the fear, they cursed themselves for their inadequacies that got them here. You let your terror crash into you and wash away as it pleased. Even within himself and his brother, there was those raging conflicts of identity, purpose and uncertainty. Yet you? Nothing.

Maul reached across himself and before you could even register it, you were staring down the glowing Mandalorian blade. Would a saber strike feel hot? A faint hum filled the air as he swayed it back and forth, tauntingly. He felt a smile overtaking him. Out of all the things that had occurred on this eventful evening, that was the thing that shut you up?

“You want it.” He exclaimed, very suddenly. He identified the faint thrilled longing in you before you did. He was right. For the briefest of moments, your ambitious mind wandered to the potential that the sabre offered. “Do you know how you earn it?”

“By killing you.”

“No, heavens, you bloodthirsty little thing. You just have to defeat me.”

Despite the situation, despite the low opinion of him he’d sensed from you the second you laid eyes on him, and despite the undoubtedly dead body behind you - a spark of good humour bubbled in your chest. He couldn’t believe it. Not a shred of hatred.

“You’re welcome to challenge me for it.” He pressed, and a sudden jolt of excitement ran through you. After all the months chained up underground in the mines, the thought of anything adventurous was welcome, even if your death was an almost guaranteed consequence.

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You grinned at the ridiculousness of your statement, not meaning a word and not trying hide that fact in the slightest. You gestured flippantly in Savage’s direction. “I’ll take the big one.”

A dangerous chuckle rumbled from deep within Maul’s chest, the blade disengaging as he shifted, looking to Savage to share his amusement. You could’t believe how easily the murderous intent had dissipated.

“Well you owe me much more than time, my dear. I’ll have to do. Ready yourself.”

Your chest seized.

“What?”

“Ready yourself.”

Barely giving you a second, he stood up smoothly and ignited a red lightsaber blade in one fluid motion.

On the balls of your feet, you slunk backwards, toeing past the limp pile of silk over your former masters’s form. Barely able to take your eyes off of his approach, you shot a glance to the pole of metal in your hand.

“Go easy on me if this thing isn’t beskar.” You blurted out, and with a nerve-driven grin, clanged the staff against the tile floor.

It resounded with a painfully synthetic and hollow clang.

You knew giving ground was a sure-fire way to lose the upper hand so ignoring your instinct to run, you planted yourself in a defensive stance. Feet set diagonally and staff grasped in the middle, parallel to the ground.

He paused, eyes flashing with anger for a moment.

“Just when I was beginning to like you.”

If you hadn’t been so charged with panic, you would have blanked at the flash of red flying towards you from your peripherals. He was too fast. Rotating your wrist to raise the staff and ducking away out of instinct you managed to block it, sending it quickly away with a clash. You could feel warmth from his sabre creeping though the metal to your fingers just from that.

“Bad form.” Maul quickly withdrew and began circling you casually. The heavy thuds of your heart felt good against your sternum. Really good. You hadn’t felt anything close to exhilaration in almost a year. “If I’d been trying, your head would be on the floor.”

Your mind flicked back to your academy days, the only free days you’d had, really, to the boys who would take any chance to condescend to you. Maul was one of them. Annoying little-

“Guard your thoughts, dear. They’re awfully loud.”

“Just get on with it.”

Before the words had left your mouth, the blade came again from above. This time, your mind did blank. You weakly swiped your staff upwards in an awkward rotation to meet his.

The force of his blow cleaved the cheap metal straight to the ground in two pieces., and the saber came to hover at your throat. There was no heat, surprisingly, only the tell-tale humming of impending death.

You frowned.

Your wrist had warmth trickling across it.

A gasp ripped from you throat when you saw your hand. The plump flesh where your thumb became your palm - it wasn’t plump anymore. The saber had shaved across it, leaving half a palm of raw flesh there.

You shot a look at Maul. The way he was patiently observing, you knew you weren’t going to die right this second. But what did you have? What did you have?? Nothing. The most dangerous thing on your person was the underwire of your bra. If you had a few minutes to rip the seams open and pry the fucking thing free, you could leave him with some minor scratches as your final mark on the world.

“Again?” You offered with a hopeful smile that became more of a grimace when you clenched your hand shut to slow the bleeding. After spending so long considering it as an equally shitty alternative to being a slave, death didn’t seem like a distant terrifying thing anymore. Even in the face of it, you were still acutely aware of the effect you had on people. It worked even on him - he liked you.

What you weren’t aware of, was how good you looked with the red kyber light illuminating your face and collarbones. The metallic taste of your blood in the air was beyond sweet. Cursing himself, Maul knew he wasn’t going to finish you, and it irked him even more that you’d figured it out before he had.

“Next time, I’ll run you through.” He warned, removing the blade from under your chin.

“I said again.” You tilted your chin up defiantly, face set in a dogged determination.

His eyes burned into you, uncharacteristically still for the moment. They ran down you, lingering on every hint of a curve and every piece of bared skin that wasn't covered with dirt and grease. The eyes flicked behind you, to his brother now lounging on the throne.

"Leave us, Savage. Cancel our audiences for the next hour. Lock the door.”

The smirk the two of them shared. You knew that look. The look of the slave driver when he’d passed you over to a client for his first and final attempt at making a private entertainer out of you. You’d read Maul wrong, you thought him to be above that sort of disgusting thing. You’d read him so wrong. You really thought for a moment that this here was something different, two minds clashing just for the love of it. But, as you should’ve expected, he was just like the rest of them. He just hid it better.

“I can feel your hatred.” Maul taunted as Savage made his way past the two of you without a word. “Now where did that come from?”

Your mind raced again, scanning the room for weapons, escapes, ideas. The slaver. His little vibroblade. His gaudy gold belt with embedded jewels. The layers upon layers of delicate silk.

You snatched up a single piece of the staff with your good hand. Placing quick and deliberate steps away from him, you quickly found yourself crouched by the body, eyes never leaving Maul as you struggled to rip a long shred of silk off the robe. Once torn, you circled it frantically around your hand as a bandage, hissing at the friction as it dragged across the raw flesh of your palm.

He just watched. He stood there and watched, eyes alight like a nexu ready to pounce. As you yanked the gold belt free and wound it around the base of your now short-staff, he didn’t move a muscle. You quickly freed the ornate knife that had been brandished in your direction so many times from the corpse’s belt.

“You’re not putting your filthy fucking hands on me. Darth, Lord, King, Whatever the fuck. I don’t care who you are or what magical shit you can do.” You stood there fiercely, knife and staff in hand, chains draped over your fingers in a makeshift hilt, and blood dripping from the silk to trail down the metal. “I can promise you - touching me will not end well for you.”

“Sweetness.” He took you in. If the particularly stubborn tilt to your chin hadn’t made sense before - it was perfect on you now. At the idea of him forcing himself onto you, you’d transformed into a woman wielding all the strength and hatred of a Nightsister. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

The anger boiled and your lips drew into a thin, disbelieving smile. God, your thoughts were delicious. Without the sour aftertaste of self pity and feelings of inadequacy, your anger was pure, on principal. You were so composed, so smart, eyes regarding him with perception that equaled that of a force user.

But your security in yourself had one downside, he realised.

Self hatred, defeat, all the depressive emotions that riddled people. The denial and the fantasy that they used to keep going meant that their thoughts were hazed and guarded even from themselves. But you? Every little observation and emotion rang clearly in a distinguishable melody. Your respect for him at the start that you had allowed to grow into an easy fondness at his good humour. But now, the potent disdain seeping from you had charged your body with fight to your very bones. The ancestral magic that lingered around himself and Savage was crackling with it.

From start to finish however, your funny little song had a heavy baseline of lust thrumming in the background. Lust for power, for freedom, and for him. Even now it played. He knew you were only fighting him on principal, acting off what you had seen and observed. The hatred wasn’t for him. It was for the past that couldn’t be changed, the present where atrocities were still being committed as you stood there - and for the hopeful future that you intended to fix your damn self. For him, in the absence of amity, the dark side was fuelling your lust along with your anger.

He couldn’t ignore the flames licking towards him any longer.

“What idiot left a woman like you to rot in the mines?” He breathed, disengaging the blade of his sabre and pausing. He didn’t often allow himself to feel exposed.

“The dead one at your feet.” At the slightest hint of movement from him, you crouched, ready to move.

“You’re never going back there, as long as I rule.”

“I know. I blew that thing to hell.”

“You’re not going anywhere else like it.

“I’d rather end up dead in a mine than alive in your silk sheets.”

“Smart mouth.” Maul hummed, his voice layered with a strange affection. He raised his empty hands calmingly. “I’ve had my fun. I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

You remained silent. That voice. If you weren’t bleeding you’d think it was a bedroom voice. You wouldn’t have minded tha-

“Universe.” he continued, paused to muffle a chuckle. “Your thoughts are deafening. I know some things that I think you’d want to remain private.”

“Which things?” Your heart thumped.

“I’d feel rather unsavoury repeating them.”

“Unsavo-“ you blanched, slack-jawing with shock that knocked the thought of the fight right out of you. Holy fucking shit- no-

“Quite the gutter mouth, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. Shut up.” You hissed, gripping the knife and bar in your hand so tightly that they trembled like leaves in the wind. “That doesn’t mean shit. I’ll still kill you for touching me-“

“I don’t doubt it.” He purred, taking a few slow steps closer.

“Stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Get away from me!”

“Tell me with your mind. I’m in your head, sweetness. Will me to stop. Picture it. Give me the slightest hint that you want me to.”

You couldn’t.

The logical voice in your head, shaped my society and your experiences was telling you not to give him the satisfaction, that you were about to be used. But your gut? It had a sense of its own, as always. It told you to… trust him?

Different body parts were having very fucking insistent opinions as well.

“Zabrak.” You said, changing the subject the best you could. “Dathomirian?”

“Yes.”

“Your culture holds partnership as sacred.”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Completely.” He was right before you now, within reach if you felt the urge to whack him over the head.

“Yet you allow pieces of filth like him.” You nodded to the slave driver’s corpse. “To do what he does. He tried to make a private entertainer out of me.”

“And now he’s dead, you’ll notice.”

“Because I did it myself. There’s others.”

“I gave them a chance to correct their behaviour. Most of them are fleeing or dead by now.”

“I can not think of a single reason why I would believe a word you’re saying.”

“Let me show you.” He extended a graceful hand to you, eyes burning into yours much more fiercely at that close range. “I’ll show you my thoughts, just as you are so beautifully sharing your own.”

“I don’t doubt a Sith could lie through even his thoughts.”

“Just see.” The hand flexed, waiting patiently.

“I’ll stab you.”

“Here.” You froze at a gentle touch to your wrist. Unwavering, he guided the ornate knife to rest at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The gold of the dagger, and the gold of his eyes shone brightly together. He tilted his head to the side, pulling his skin taunt and flexing the tendons beneath the metal “I believe you.”

“Fuck.” You watched his neck as he spoke, imagining the pulsing artery right beneath his red skin. “Does this move usually work on the girls?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Ugh.” You looked away in disgust. You didn’t know why you were so afraid of your hand slipping and nicking that neck.

“May I?” His hand left yours and reached slowly towards your face, two fingers extended.

“Get on with it.”

The two fingers hovered for another moment, then massaged gently into your temple. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his eyes closing in concentration, and then your vision blacked out as he opened his mind to you.

Your thoughts were usually noisy, but the bustle of two beings in your head, two sets of emotions almost knocked you out as you struggled to decipher what you were feeling.

“Just relax.” He murmured. “I’ll show you.”

Lust. A specific kind of lust that your culture hadn’t acknowledged enough to warrant crafting a word for. You saw yourself from his eyes - from behind his eyes, where the emotions and opinions circulated tumultuously. The craving for you. He hadn’t been able to ignore your spirit. Your bright spirit that didn’t allow anyone’s grimy hands to dull it. You were the good the Jedi wished they were. Firm in your beliefs to the point that you would risk death to speak your truth. Fiery. You were a fucking fire from the moment you walked into his throne room. You flared with passion when wronged, but even as you stood there peacefully, the embers crackled, waiting for a breeze to fuel them into licking flames. You were so… alive.

There was a reverence to how he regarded you, the way you would expect him to feel for a goddess. With gentleness and fascination you would afford a delicate ornament, yet awe and respect so great that he allowed himself to imagine you at his side, accomplishing some great feat together. Shit, you thought vaguely, Zabraks move fast. Fucking hyperspeed.

That was just your character - things the force had provided him the perception to see. He hadn’t let himself focus on your body. You could feel the tension of him straining to keep himself focused, never following down trails of thought that would take him down the gutter.

“Show me the rest.” Your grip remained tight on the knife.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I see I overestimated the Sith’s abilities to lie.” You smiled, feeling the flood of thoughts hammer even harder to get out as your free hand came to rest over the one at your temple. With wicked laugh bubbling in your chest along with the nervous tension, you drew closer.

He sucked in a ragged breath, the chorus of restrained thoughts growing louder.

“Sweetness. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“Are you getting flustered, My Lord?” Your mind burst with amusement. Despite his best efforts, you’d been able to glean fragments of what he was holding back. Your voice saying his title had been one of the escapee thoughts and you couldn’t lie - you were enjoying having a beast like him wrapped around your finger. You pushed it further

“I am not- Oh. Ohhh that’s fucking delicious.” He hummed proudly and you felt the swell of his ego In your own body..

Tentatively, you had felt some need to reciprocate, regardless of him being able to feel you this whole time. You sent him your thoughts of his thunderous presence, the ability to command a room without raising a voice. The way he held himself so dignified, and how he let words fall from his tongue so beautifully controlled. Discipline, passion and his pure honesty were what had made you allow yourself to be drawn to him. You didn’t have the force, but you knew. You always knew. People. You could read them like a damned billboard.

You knew your own mind too, and although you never bothered, you could play his game and suppress your own thoughts. You teased him, letting yourself indulge in thoughts of pleasurable scenarios before focusing back in on the here and now. Him touching you, caressing you- but as fast as the image of you in an ornate bed came, the grounding presence of the marble beneath your feet sent it away.

Now, his mind was so full that single ideas were barely distinguishable, everything flurrying and melding together into static.

“Oh you’re a dangerous little thing.” He growled, hand latching onto your wrist and dragging you flush against him. You didn’t realise you dropped the knife, barely registered the clatter. His touch was gone from your temple, but the bond remained. You continued to taunt. Brief snapshots of the potential future. Spread out on the throne, on the ground, against that pillar over there. Gone as fast as they came. “You- By the Divine-.”

With a rough snarl of breath, he seized you by the waist and the back of your neck, and held you even closer.

“You want to see the rest, you’ll get the fucking rest.”

He held you there a moment, a hairs distance between your faces. His yellow eyes were on fire. You felt his nails at the small of your back, and his hot breath on your cheek.

Then, his lips were on yours, slow, but damn hungry. Your lips worked against each other with a strange fervour. His hold on you felt safe, familiar. But that mouth, the sheer heat of it, made your head spin. With every swipe of his tongue, your stomach clenched tighter.

You’d never felt this - weak in the knees from just a kiss. You were holding your own well enough, returning his passion despite gasping for breath. But when he sank a sharp tooth ever so gently into your bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth with a feral groan, you knew you were gone. You’d been desperately withholding the noises that had been straining to be let out, but as he broke the silence, you let go. As he broke the kiss, panting harshly, and began working his way to your jaw, down your neck, sucking and kissing loudly, you couldn’t hold back a shaky moan. Everything echoed in that damn hall.

The hands snuck down and pulled you into him by your ass. With your bottom half held close to him and your top half tilted back by the weight of him at your neck, you clung to him to keep from falling over with your good hand. He was so solid, unbothered by supporting your entire body weight. The hot mouth at your collarbones now completely unfaltering. His hands at your ass were delicious, you felt to pressure of it between your legs, stretching that desperate skin ever so slightly, giving you the first hints of pleasure.

You’d been in this position before, but never had it weakened your knees to fucking jelly. You knew it was because it was him, Maul. So damn ruthless and powerful. He could snap your neck with the flick of a finger. He could read your damn mind. He was the fucking ruler of Mandalore, and you knew you’d secured a foothold in his chest, shallow and precarious as it may be, it was undeniable. . You wanted to make him moan like you were, shaky and broken from the bare minimum.

“Oh. Oh.” He snickered into your neck.

“What.” You hissed out.

He chuckled again, a deep thing that reverberated in his chest. The hands that had remained firmly grasping your ass snuck lower, kneading at the flesh of your thighs. His fingers worked dangerously between your legs, so close to where you needed them.

“What?” You tried to sound demanding, but the word sounded too breathy, too high.

“You’re a power hungry little thing.” He hummed, trailing his tongue up your neck on his way to stare you dead in the eye. “You’d just love to be fucked on that throne over there, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You smiled in anticipation of your own snark. “I can think of a few places I’d rather sit.”

You knew he saw where your thoughts went - to those yellow eyes looking up from between your thighs as you rode his face.

“No. There’s nowhere you’d rather be then up there.” He grinned as your ego swelled. You couldn’t enjoy the compliment for long as suddenly, his touch was gone from you and the room was flying past your field of vision. You let out a small shriek as you were flung across the room with the force. He slowed you before you landed on the throne, but your head spun with vertigo.

Before you could collect yourself, he was there, bracing a hand on each arm of the throne as he caught your lips in a kiss. Indignant from being thrown you shimmied to the edge of the smoothstone seat. Maul had to bend at the middle to keep kissing you and with an evil little grin, you reached up and held a horn in your each hand hand, pulling him even closer and further off balance. You laughed against his lips as, with a grunt, he dropped a hand to your thigh to keep from falling. You enjoyed this little act of power, and slid your tongue into his mouth. He gave you a broken groan.

“You’d be a bitch of a queen.” He craned his neck to rasp the words into your ear.

You let go of his horns, but hissed in pain as the worn, sharp edges of one slid against your open wound. Having forgotten the horrible thing was even there with the adrenaline of it all, the sharp sting sent your head back to smack against the throne. You growled behind clenched teeth as you rode it out.

“Fuck.” Unease shivered down you spine as you clutched your wrist with the other hand, squeezing viciously as if to somehow relieve it.

“Oh darling.” Maul’s eyes were on the wound, his voice a hoarse whisper as he dropped to his knees between your legs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Give it to me.”

Your breath hiccuped in your throat as you cradled it close to you. “Fuck.”

“Give it.”

“Piss off.” You smacked his outstretched hand, hard. The sound reverberated around the massive hall. He didn’t flinch. He blinked, eyes popping open in offence. His voice grew harder.

“Give me your hand.”

“Oh fuck you,” You hissed, your hand locked into a wide fist around your wrist still. “You creepy fucking dathomirian cat. Bite me. Go chase a ball of twine. Go fucking lick your ass-“

“You’re as temperamental as a rancor.” He sighed, and pulled your hand to him. He didn’t even strain. With the same effort one would draw curtains, he dragged your rigid body close to him.

Just like that, your excitement turned back into fight, and your temper flared. Your lip curled and you twisted to shove a knee into his side. It impacted with a thud, and his breath left his body in a heavy oof.

But again he didn’t shift, barely even flinched, so you drew the knee to the side to do it again.

His hand slapped into your thigh, kneading the flesh in irritation. His eyes never left yours, but they grew dark with irritation.

“Sorry.” You blurted out. Your big mouth had gotten you into near-death situations plenty of times, but this was the first time that it had gotten you well on the way to being viciously railed. “Sorry. It just… Fuck that hurt.”

“That hurt.” He squeezed your offending leg for emphasis.

“No it didn’t.”

“No it didn’t.” He agreed. “I thought if you felt guilty, you’d hold the fuck still.”

“What are you going to do? Kiss it better? Lick it like a fucking cat?” The pain still biting into your hand soured your temper, and the intimacy you’d shared over the past few minutes emboldened your tongue. But what you’d meant to be a demeaning comment, sent his eyes to your hand and made his jaw flex with tension.

“Holy shit. You’d love that wouldn’t you?” You whispered, absolutely floored at the realisation. “Fucking Zabraks. Carnivourous little-“

“Stop it.” Maul said abruptly, his voice stony and solemn. He took your hand from you, slowly. It looked gentle to your eye, but his grip was iron, his muscle barely flexed as he forced your hand closer to him. “Trust me.”

A nervous laugh broke from you. Trust him. What a joke. You trusted him to fuck you, but now you could feel the tautness of the skin along your wrist where the blood had begun to dry. The sting of the open wound along the flesh of your palm, so large that it hadn’t even begun to scab over. You didn’t trust him with this.

He unwound the bloodied silk from your hand and you hissed as it stuck, sending pain jolting all the way up to your elbow. He shot a look to your expression. You were struggling to stay strong, letting your distress translate to anger. Your brows were drawn together and your lip curled as you held back any sound. You sent your glare his way, cursing that you let those yellow eyes draw you in. Maul’s lips curved at the corners in something that was dangerously close to affection.

“So brave.” He murmured. He gently closed his own hand over your own. Your poor severed nerve endings felt every callous on his red hand and you smacked your heel against the floor at the feeling.

“Mmm.” Was all you replied, voice growling in the back of you throat.

“Open your mind up.”

“What the fu-“

“Open your mind up. Like before.”

“Are you going to mind control me?”

He ignored you, closed his eyes and bowed his head, both hands wrapped around your own.

“I don’t know anything about the force, but I can guarantee you’ll have a hard time fucking with my head.”

“Shhh.”

“I’ll stab you.”

“Stab me quietly, then.” He murmured, his own brow furrowing with… concentration?

You watched in silence as he sat there for the stretch of several minutes, the only sound his deep, slow breathing. You took the opportunity to study his face, with the heat from those damed eyes finally turned away from you. When he was peaceful, he was actually quite pretty, you thought. Fine features, like that of a wealthy coruscanti, yet branded with those red and black colours that screamed danger, like a particularly venomous snake.

A calm washed over you. Absolutely foreign, it was Maul’s influence, you knew instantly. You never felt calm, you could be content, relaxed and vaguely peaceful, but you’d never known calm. There was always a train of thought playing at the back of your mind, usually painfully analytical. His calm felt stifling to you, a suppression of who you were as a person, but it was so strong that you couldn’t even begin to summon panic about it.

Then, your palm tingled, something between a tickle and an itch. It was overwhelming, but his strong grip on your hand and mind kept you from shying away. The calm wavered, and then it was gone, and your head was your own again.

“Take a look.” He sat back on his heels and watched as your lifted your hand to your face, eyes wide with disbelief.

The crusted blood remained, but within its perimeter, your skin was healed. Slightly pink and baby smooth, not a trace of damage.

“Why?” You asked. Why would this fucking crime lord be benevolent? He was a Sith, they were fuelled by hatred, not whatever this was.

“I’m not sure.” He said simply.

“Thank you.” The words didn’t capture the gratitude to its fullest extend. After the years of hard labour you went through, that gesture of kindness hit you like a blaster shot. “Thank you.” You repeated dumbly, unable to conjure anything else to express yourself.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetness. Are you… Are you alright?”

You frowned at the undertone. It was nervous, and you didn’t quite understand his timidness. Then it hit you, and you burst into a quick laugh. “You mean…” You pursed your lips to hold the smile back and raised your eyebrows challengingly. “Am I alright to fuck you?”

You burst into another round of cackles as the sheepish grin spread across his face, so uncharacteristically boyish.

“Lord Maul. Darth Maul.” You crooned shamelessly. “On his knees and asking so politely to fuck me. No one would ever believe this.”

“Don’t antagonise m-“

“Come here.”

He froze, midway through his grumble, then, pulled himself up by the arms of his throne and kissed you again.

It was different now. Grateful, reverent. He held your jaw as his lips brushed yours. It went on achingly long, both of you lost in it. Suddenly, he must’ve realised that he was enjoying this simple act of affection far too much, because out of nowhere, he bit into your lip hard. With a gasp, you pulled away in fright, eyes wide. He looked shocked himself, as if he’d done it on a panicked impulse to cut the tender moment short. You giggled openmouthed against his cheek, something compelling you to press a gentle kiss there. He leaned into it, letting out a vaguely humored sigh of his own.

But your laughter quickly came to a halt as he dropped to his knees between your legs. His brow raised mockingly at the astounded look on your face.

“Get rid of these. Now.” He tapped an impatient hand on your thigh and stared at your clothed legs pointedly. “Come on, this is what you wanted. You wanted me to show you the rest. This is the rest.”

You couldn’t conjure a single smart thought, so you obliged, raising you hips off the throne so you could shimmy out of your pants and underwear. The second the pants hung loose over your thighs, he lunged forward and yanked them down your legs, eyes never leaving your centre. He tossed the clothing thoughtlessly over his shoulder and leaned in to lift you closer to him by your ass.

“Oh sweetness.” He groaned, his chest heaved with a heavy, slow, breath. You could feel the bite of the cold air between your slicked legs, you knew how wet you were. He pressed a hand to the inside of each of your thighs, spreading you wider only inches from his face. “Oh seven hells, that’s exactly what you are - fucking sweet.”

The feeling of his warm breath against your inner thighs drove you crazy, but it didn’t even begin to compare to how the sight of him on your knees for you while you sat on his throne made you dizzy. He was right. After living the life you’d lived at the mercy of others, you were power hungry. You were starving for it. You don’t know what possessed you to say:

“Show me then.” Your voice was low. Your next words came out with a hint of mockery; of challenge. “Put your pretty mouth to work, my Lord.”

Maul’s brow shot up in surprise, and a huff of laughter escaped him. Yet you saw how those eyes darkened. He paused for a moment, eyes looking into yours, obviously trying to conjure some smart remark, to show you your place. To your delight, he couldn’t maintain the eye contact, neck curving to glean another look at your cunt. He growled in frustration from the very back of his throat and leaned in to lick a long line across your slit.

You shivered, hands slapping to the thick arms of the throne to brace yourself. But your pleasure was short-lived. He sat back on his haunches stubbornly and glared as your hooded eyes flicked open in surprise. He let the silence stew, before he tilted his head menacingly.

“I’m going to turn that smart fucking mouth dumb.”

You smiled in amusement, but your lips quickly fell open as he closed his mouth over your clit and lapped at it with a flat tongue. You moaned. Loud. He fucked the same way that he ruled; ruthlessly.

“Shirt. Off.” He said briefly, before diving back in. A hand slapped the side of your thigh forcefully to emphasise his point. You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, scared that he might stop if you didn’t.

He hummed his approval, the hand on your thigh gripping it tighter as the other came out to slip under your breast band. He massaged your breast roughly as he slipped his tongue inside of you, letting out a muffled groan. He wasn’t even trying to drive you over the edge yet-

Maul just loved the taste.

He lapped at the inside of you hungrily, eyes closing with enjoyment as he probed and swirled deeper. And shit, you heard his thick swallow, quickly followed by another. You let out a hum of a moan, relaxing completely under his touch. At the sound, his intensity increased, nails digging into the flesh of your thigh and the hand your breast adjusting to roll your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger.

“Fuck.” You breathed, and at hearing you react, he ran his tongue from you entrance to your clit. “Fuck.” You repeated, in an embarrassingly high pitch.

“Are you going dumb on me, sweetness?” His voice came from closer.

You didn’t even realise he’d shifted. You’d just began to shape your mouth around a reply when you felt two of his fingers slide into you. A moan ripped out of you when his mouth closed around your breast, a hand on your back to keep you in his mouth.

“Yes, I think you are.” He said, swiping a thumb over your clit as the fingers of the same hand scissored you open, curling and stroking in turns. “Didn’t even need a cock. You’re dumb from just a few fingers.”

Again, with a fucking evil chuckle, he escalated things before you could reply. He quickly ducked to catch your clit in his mouth again, laving a hot tongue over the whole area. He sucked, mouthed, and started thrusting those damn fingers into you, hard, bouncing you back against the throne with every plunge.

“Mmm. Maul.” You groaned.

“So smart.” He mocked, replacing his mouth with his thumb while he spoke. “You figured out my name.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled again, ducking back down to work you with his mouth. The muscles in your abdomen tighten on their own, chasing the growing feeling of pleasure.

“Look at you on my throne.” He grinned, lips shiny with slick. “Spread out as if its yours.”

You tried to say something, but he curled his long fingers inside you and all that came out was a moan. At that, he pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, his suck making an obscene sound as he drew back yet again. His fingers kept moving, lazily, tauntingly, giving you just enough pleasure to keep you squirming, but not enough to drive you over the edge.

“Fucking queen. Fucking slut. So greedy. You want a bigger throne and you want your cunt stuffed with me, you wanted it the second you walked in here.”

“Maul.” Your complaint came out as a plead.

“What? Smart mouth?”

“Make me-“ Your voice cracked as he kissed your clit again, tongue sliding down as his lips tortured you roughly. He was fucking evil. He was playing with you, giving you direct, overstimulating pleasure, and taking it away as soon as the pressure began to build. It wasn’t even edging - he wasn’t letting you get close - just fucking torture. Wanting more, or it all being too much,

“What was that?”

“Maul. Please.”

“Dumb mouth.” He chuckled wickedly, “Fucking dumb.”

“If you won’t make me cum, I’ll do it my damn self.” You hissed, reaching for your throbbing clit.

But he caught your wrist, eyes never leaving yours, fingers still working you lazily. You thought that he was strong before, but now his grip was iron. It hurt. You realised he’d handled you with care before, even when he’d thrown you, it didn’t hurt this much.

You wanted it to hurt more.

You struggled against him harder, loving the electricity of his nails digging into your flesh. His muscles barely flexed, and your hand barely moved despite your efforts. Those damned yellow eyes saw straight through you, bright and smug. He cocked his head, fingers stilling inside you.

“You like this.” He said simply, eyes narrowed as he gauged your reaction.

“Hmm?” You tried to sound coy, but it didn’t come out right. It sounded… dumb and guilty.

He licked his lips, and then his nails bit into your wrist hard enough to sting.

You inhaled sharply, the breath stuttering and catching to produce an undeniably sexual sound. The feeling went straight to between your legs and your knees tried to jolt together. A shaky breath of his own answered yours. Both of you stared at the other, you unable to deny the effect the pain had on you - and him unable to believe it as you pulsed and clenched around his fingers.

“You like it.” He hissed, grip unwavering. The nails plunged deeper. The pain began to throb and burn. You clenched around him again.

“I like it.” You breathed, head dropping back onto the throne, all resistance lost.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Maul growled, something deep and carnal from the very bottom of his chest. He lunged down so suddenly that you jumped. You could only groan as he nipped at the flesh of the inside of your thighs. His hand let go of your wrist and you could feel the shape of the crescent indentations he’d left. The hand slid up, feeling its way along your shoulder until it came to brush the side of your neck. Your breath caught and you lifted your head to look at him.

Those intense yellow eyes were gauging your reaction as his thumb spread along your throat, his hand now encircling your neck.

“You like this too?”

Gods you loved it. You didn’t realise you would. If it was anyone else, you would’ve smacked them for trying. With Maul, it wasn’t an insecure lover diminishing you to uplift themselves. It was instinctive with him. He had regarded each of your desperate moans with reverence, staying composed as if he expected this of himself; as if he held you writhing and begging without him even breaking a sweat as the minimum standard for his performance.

But now? A dangerous mood was unfurling between the two of you. It was creeping up quietly, slowly. Both of you spoke in hushed whispers as it drew closer.

“Mhmm.” You answered softly. You tilted your chin up to bare your throat to him. His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make your head feel deliciously warm. You groaned, struggling to keep your eyes from fluttering closed in bliss so that you could watch him. His composure was failing. His breath grew heavier and eyes grew ravenous.

“Sweetness.” He breathed. “Oh fuck.” His hand slid up to grip your jaw. His fingers came away from your face for a moment, then he brought them back with a firm slap, not hard, but enough to make a sound. Enough to make your lips part in a gasp of surprise that sounded far too close to a moan. The jolt of the fright was quickly drowned out by the swell of arousal in your stomach. Yet again, you felt yourself flutter around those fucking fingers.

“Gorgeous.”

The fingers dragged down your cheek, two of them resting on your lips. He paused there, waiting, as if he expected something. You stared back, eyes soft with arousal.

You lifted your head and sucked the fingers into your mouth.

Maul gave you a broken groan.

“Of course you like that. Hells above. You’re perfect.”

“Mmm.” You confirmed. You ran your tongue over the rough pads of his fingertips.

“Fuck. Can I bite you, love?”

You stilled from your movements to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d thrown you across the room, choked you, slapped you, and he’s asking if he can bite? After a long pause you hit him with a muffled, condescending, “Uh huh?”

“Watch it.” His fingers bit into the flesh of your thigh as he grabbed you with a growl, leaning closer into your neck and letting his tongue glide up it. “Fucking smart mouth.”

“Seems… fuck… seems obvious. Yes. Please.”

“I mean bite you. Not deep, just enough to draw blood. The taste… It’s like how you’d enjoy fruits and sweets. I know you taste so good, darling. You smell like fucking dessert.”

Hmm.” Your annoying, thoughtful noise morphed into a giggle, and then a breathy moan when he dragged a sharp tooth across your neck. “Make me feel good first.”

“You’re dripping on my floor. I’d say you’re already feeling good.”

“I want to cum.”

“You want to cum? I’ll make you cum then. Demanding little whore.”

He did it so easily. On his knees, he gave you everything at the same time. Those tattooed fingers probed and curled and between each stroke, he pushed his tongue down the whole length of your clit. When his fingers hit your g-spot, he paused, pressed harder and sucked your clit into his mouth. If that devastating syncopated rhythm wasn’t enough, he was in your head too. You could taste yourself through his mouth, see yourself, from his inexplicably reverent eyes. Fuck. Even as your eyes rolled back into your head and mouth hung open with gasps, he thought you were beautiful. You were close already. You’d never had an orgasm that you didn’t have to chase, but this one was building whether you tried or not. It was fucking inevitable. You felt the pleasure in your pussy, stomach, and even flaring down the insides your legs.

It hit before you were ready.

Your hips shoved down onto his hand with a mind of their own, and you slid down in the seat until only your head rested on the back of the throne. You shook. Even your hands trembled with it, and he let you ride his hand through the whole devastating length of it, mouth sealed dutifully to your clit. He kept going long after you were done, tongue lapping until it became too much.

“Fuck. Stop. Stop!” You squirmed away from him, gasping. “Oh o’sik. Stars above.”

He sat back onto his heels, eyes seeming to glow brighter. His hands slid off of you, and he just regarded you, spread out and chest heaving on his throne.

“Satisfied?”

You groaned a weak affirmative, eyes rolling closed.

“Poor thing.” You heard him croon. “Can’t even talk.”

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Fuck yes I’m satisfied.”

“Oh. Suppose you won’t be wanting any more, then?”

You peeked an eye open and found him still sat obediently on his haunches, hunting hound turned lap dog. Head cocked in anticipation of your answer.

“Well… I never said that.”

[gyu-vinnie]

138, 150, 179 and 199 with gunwookie pls 😩✊

“fuck, i love you so much”/ “you’re all mine”-“hm…”-“say it”-“i’m all yours”/ “i want to fuck you so bad”/ “i want to make a mess of you”

i’m getting major insecure gunwook vibes from this 😼

okay, so maybe pranking gyuvin was a bad idea. just maybe…

okay it was a terrible idea. you and taerae wanted to tease him and be your usual silly selves. what you didn’t know was that gunwook was already not in the best headspace since he woke up. all because of some stupid dream he had the night before where someone took you away from him. he kept telling himself that would never happen, that you love him too much. and well, he was technically right.

unfortunately, you and taerae had no clue about this dream. when he came into practice, the first thing he saw was your head resting on taeraes shoulder and he swears he heard his heart shatter. upon making eye contact with you, he stormed out the room making you and taerae share a glance and start giggling to yourselves that the plan succeeded.

spoiler alert, it didn’t. not even 30 seconds later matthew storms into the room. “y/n, why did i just see gunwook speed walking down the hall in tears?”

the second you heard him say that you stood up. “which way did he go?” matthew shrugged and pointed left. “it looked like he was going towards the bathroom or something.”

you quickly thanked him and started running towards the bathroom. you could hear sniffing, and it broke you heart. “wookie? are you in here?” you asked while making it towards the bigger stall, seeing his sneakers you bought him and recognizing him instantly. “baby, can you let me in?”

you heard shuffling and the door unlocked, when the stall door opened you were met with the sight of a puffy faced, red eyed, swollen lipped gunwook. your eyes instantly widen and you went in the stall, closing the door behind you and locking it.

you turned to face him and one look at his face again made you hug him instantly. “shit, gunwook, im so sorry. i didn’t mean to make you cry. me and taerae were just trying to mess with you.”

you cupped his face, wiping his tear stained cheeks. he didnt say anything, just kinda stared at you. your first thought was that he was mad at you, but his face was emotionless. if he was mad, atleast you’d be able to tell. he looked deep in thought.

“i want to fuck you so bad.” he mutters, it being barely audible. your eyes widened and you frozen. “h-huh?” he moved your hands from his cheeks and pinned them above your head, pushing you against one of the walls.

“you heard me, i want to make a mess of you.” as you back hit the wall you looked up at him with wide eyes. “would that make you feel better?” he nodded and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, leaving soft pecks all the way down. “just give me 10 minutes…10 minutes and i’ll be fine.”

so that’s what you did, you gave him 10 minutes. well, technically you two are at the 12 minute mark but who’s counting? surely not you at this moment. your are eyes rolled to the back of you head as gunwook pounds into you with his head hung low. the only sounds being able to be heard is the filthy sound of skin slapping, the squelching noise, your muffled moans that are barely audible with gunwooks big hand over your mouth, and the small words he’s whispering as he fucking into you, a single tear still rolling down his face.

“fuck, i love you so much. so so much” me mutters into your ear. though honestly it’s going in one ear and out the other with how fucked out you are. “your all mine, okay?”

you slowly started to come back to your senses as gunwooks thrusts start to get sloppier and your own orgasm approaching quickly. “hmm…” you moan out, he moved his hand from your mouth and started thrust faster, sending you over the edge as you cum on his cock. “say it…say your mine”, he upped his head so he could see you. “i’m all yours”

and the second the words slipped from your mouth, he came. whispering small praises to you and pulling out. “l-let me help you clean” he says shakily as he grabs the toilet tissue and starts wiping.

when you went back in the studio, it was as if nothing happened.

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Unintentional (Ghost/Soap/Reader)

CW: Threesome, Accidental Vouyerism, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Sex

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.3k

Soft creaking echoed down the hallway. I walked on the balls of my feet, making sure. Not to wake any of my superiors. Despite it being past five, I still couldn’t sleep. After hours of tossing and turning, I got up. A hot cup of tea sounded good right about now. 

I turned the corner down another corridor, walking past the dormitory—door after door after door. The creaking grew louder. My eyes flicked to each door, searching for where the noise came from. 

My feet stilled as I walked past McTavish’s room. Just barely visible in the moonlight we’re two bare figures. My eyes adjusted to the low lighting and scanned across the room. From the corner of the door, I could see a nude Mctavish thrusting his hips into someone I couldn’t discern. My breath hitched as it donned upon me. I’d caught my superior with someone. Just then, a pair of brown eyes caught mine. With a small, broken puff of air, I broke out into a sprint down the hallway. 

My cheeks were burning as I stepped inside the kitchen. At this point, tea was no longer on my mind. I leaned against the counter, replaying what I’d seen. It was definitely McTavish…but the other figure confused me. Muscular thighs, pale skin, and a set of brown eyes that seemed familiar. 

The door was shut when I walked back down the hallway, cup in hand. I couldn’t help but grit my teeth, bracing for a scolding during the next training session. 

The next morning, I was in the gym before anyone else. Music blared through my earbuds as I squatted, barbell resting on my shoulders. I could feel the heat emanating from someone behind me. On either side of me were hands, hovering, waiting to see if I failed. I mumbled a quick “thank you” before starting my first rep. I inhaled, holding my breath before squatting. I glanced at the mirror to my side. Behind me was McTavish, donning a pair of gray sweats. I sputtered, letting go of my breath. I stumbled forward, pushing the bar off of my shoulders. With a grunt, McTavish caught the weights. 

I stood, running my fingers across my sore quads. McTavish re-racked the bar, watching as I stepped away. 

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I think I just need a shower,” I replied. 

Without another word, I stepped away, swiftly walking toward the locker room. I stood under the hot water rubbing my face as if my fingers would work away the thoughts swirling through my head. He was being casual. Too casual. And closer than he’d ever been before. I ran my fingers through my scalp, quelling the bubbling thoughts. 

I took a drag from the cigarette between my lips. I closed my eyes as I let the smoke wash over my tongue. My lips buzzed, a feeling that ran through my fingertips, and one that was welcome after a day like today. 

“Mind if I bum one off of you?” 

He wore his usual balaclava, even in the summer heat. I nodded and shoved my fingers into my pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. I held the carton out for him. He pushed his mask over his lips and perched the cigarette between his teeth. I held out my lighter for him. Instead of taking it in his hand, he leaned in close, waiting for me to strike the light. I could feel my heart jump as I flicked my thumb over the lighter. The end of his cigarette soon sparked to life with a faint orange glow. 

I slid the lighter back into my pocket and watched as smoke poured from his lips. I looked away, tilting my head back against the brick wall. With a soft thud from his boots, he turned and walked away.

That night was another sleepless one. The hours ticked by. 2 AM, 4 AM, and by 5 my feet were meeting the tile floor. I threw on a hoodie and padded out of the room, looking down either end of the hallway to make sure I wasn’t being followed. 

I knew it was risky to walk by that room again. Knew it was risky to even be out of my dorm, but I needed to do something besides toss and turn endlessly. I pulled my hood over my head as I turned down the hall. Looking forward, I glanced at McTavish's door. Tonight it was closed. With a sigh of relief, I picked up my speed. 

As I passed by the door I was jolted by the sound of it opening. A hand gripped my wrist and quickly pulled me into the room. With a slam, the door closed behind me. 

I grunted as my back thudded against the door. In front of me was Lieutenant Riley, donning his balaclava. I clenched my teeth and looked away. A flash of blonde hair caught my eye. He flung the mask off of his face and dropped. A flash of heat rose to my cheeks. Simon stepped forward, roughly grabbing me by my sweatshirt. His lips crashed against mine. He was warm, and his lips tasted of smoke and salt. 

Hands snaked underneath my hoodie and across my bare stomach. Johnny stood at my side, blue eyes flicking up and down my face.

“You didn’t wear anything under this? You really are a slag.” He chuckled as he pulled the fabric from my body. I stood still, acutely aware of my bare body and the eyes that were on it. Riley slipped his fingers into the band of my underwear, tugging me back toward the bed. Johnny guided my hips with his hands, pushing me to lie on my stomach. Simon sat beside me, watching as Johnny slipped down my underwear. 

Simon reached out, gently stroking my cheek. I twitched as I felt Johnny's hot breath fan over my ass. He pushed my knees apart with his hands. I gripped the duvet, furrowing my brows in worry. 

“You okay?” Simon asked. Johnny quickly pulled his hands away from me, peering up at me. 

“Just nervous…” I mumbled. 

“Do you want us to stop?” Johnny asked, placing a hand on my back. 

“No-” I interjected. “I’m sorry I just-” I paused, thinking of what to say. The two men looked at each other, and back at me. 

“Come here,” Simon motioned as he moved to sit against the headboard. I crawled on my knees toward him. He swirled his finger around, signaling for me to turn around. I did as he asked, turning so my back faced him. He wrapped his arms around my chest, pulling me into him. He pressed gentle kisses to my cheek and jaw, fingers gently stroking my stomach. The mattress dipped as Johnny moved to kneel before me. He skimmed his hands up my calves, and down, watching my reaction. His palms moved to my knees, gently parting my legs. 

“Can I eat you out?” Johnny asked, pressing his lips to my inner thigh. My cheeks felt warm, head spinning as the vulgarity of his words set in. I nodded. He gently parted my legs further and settled between them. His beard scratched against my thighs as he pressed kisses along my skin. 

“Little wider,” Simon spoke softly into my ear. I followed his words, spreading my legs wider for the man in front of me. 

“What a sight, huh Simon?” Johnny said with a grin as he leaned in, licking a thick stripe up my cunt. I whined, throwing my head back against Simon's shoulder. My legs clenched around Johnny's head. Simon quickly grabbed my knees and held my legs apart. 

“Don’t want to suffocate him, do we?” The blonde said with a laugh. 

Johnny dived back in, flicking his tongue against my clit. Bright blue eyes met me. I watched as the corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my thigh with his soaked lips. My breath hitched as I felt the tips of his fingers circling my hole. With his other hand, he was circling my clit, watching as my cunt clenched around his fingertips.

“You’re so tense, relax.” The Scot spoke softly. Simon kissed along my jawline, mumbling soft praises against my skin. I inhaled, closing my eyes. As I let my breath go, I felt my body sink into Johnny's hands, focusing on the way his fingers slowly worked me open. The noises I held in my chest slipped past my lips, curses, praises, and the names of the two men. 

“Let it out,” Simon muttered against my neck. His fingers worked at the knots in my hips, digging into my sore muscles. 

Johnny brought his lips back to my cunt, wrapping them around my clit and sucking, coaxing me closer to my orgasm with his fingers. My breath came out in short bursts as the stimulation wracked my body. My stomach clenched, toes curling as I teetered on the edge of orgasm. Johnny watched my face, savoring every grimace and noise I made. He pulled off with a soft pop and flicked his tongue against my clit. With a sob, muffled by Simon's hand, I came. My thighs quivered, closing in on Johnny's head. The brunette groaned against my cunt as he rocked me through my orgasm, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. 

Simon grabbed my chin, gently tilting my head toward him. My unfocused eyes glanced at him, lips still parted. Johnny slipped his fingers out of me and leaned forward, pressing kisses to my cheek. I turned my head, meeting his lips with my own. I could taste myself on his tongue. I parted my lips, making way for him to slip his tongue into my mouth. I moaned against his lips as our tongues swirled together. Johnny pulled back. His blue eyes flicked over my face. I watched as he leaned behind me, crashing his lips against Simons. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of Johnny's sweats, gently toying with the fabric. He pulled back to look at me with a smirk on his face. 

“You want to keep going?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Get the lube,” Simon told Johnny. The mattress creaked as the Scot quickly stood up. I shifted onto my knees and turned around to face Simon. I watched as he began pushing his sweats down his hips. His stomach flexed as he lifted his hips. I pulled the material from his legs, eyes focused on his cock. He was thick, flushed, and leaking. He slid a pillow underneath his hips and held his hand out for me. I laced my fingers with him and straddled his waist, lowering my hips onto his thighs. Johnny handed the bottle over to Simon. He took it and flipped open the cap.  

I stroked Simon's cock, spreading the lube over his skin. He groaned, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He gripped my hips tight, gently lifting me. I wrapped my fingers around his cock and guided him to my cunt. My brows furrowed as I slowly sunk onto his length. I cursed, taking inch after inch of his cock until he bottomed out. Simon held me tight against his hips. My chest heaved as I panted. Sweat beaded down my chest. I felt undeniably full, almost painfully full. 

Simon brushed his thumb against my clit, rubbing small circles as he waited, glancing behind me. Johnny moaned as he slid inside of Simon. 

“Oh, fuck-” Simon sputtered.

“Takin’ us both so well, Si,” Johnny cooed, placing his hands on my hips. He guided my hips up, and then down, matching the rhythm of his hips as he shallowly thrusted into Simon. 

“Tha’s it, bein’ so good,” Johnny muttered against my ear. His hands traveled across my chest, fingers tweaking my nipples. I moaned, leaning forward. I planted my hands on Simon’s chest and fucked myself back on his cock. The mattress squealed underneath the three of us. 

“Oh fuck- feel so good-“ Simon blurted out. His nails dig into my thighs. Pink crescent-shaped marks sprung up on my skin. I moaned his name. 

My vision blurred as I grazed another orgasm. Johnny gripped my hips, pulling me back onto Simon's cock with force. I whined as he landed a smack on my ass. He whispered praises into my ear and soothed over my skin with his palm. Simon brought his attention back to my clit, rubbing quick circles against my skin. My movements grew sloppy, knees aching as I reached my peak. I squeezed my eyes shut and rode out my high with slow, uneven moves. Warmth flooded my core. I looked down at Simon. A deep blush settled over his pale cheeks. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, chest heaving as his breath came out in short, arrhythmic huffs. 

“Fuckin’ squeezing me,” Johnny groaned as he came. The Scots grip on me tightened to a bruising strength. The skin of my thighs was surely marred by the two men. 

Simon shuddered as Johnny pulled out. I groaned as the brunette gently guided my hips up. Simon slipped out of me. I rolled onto my side, fingers tracing over scars on the blonde's chest. The sheets rustled as Johnny tugged at them, dragging the covers over all three of our sweaty bodies. Johnny was tucked under Simon’s other arm, a look of bliss and content on his face. 

I reached out, grabbing the brunette's wrist. 

“Thank you for making me feel so comfortable,” I spoke up.

Johnny smiled, bringing my hand to his lips. A flash of heat rose to my cheeks as he pressed a kiss to my hand. 

“S’common decency,” Simon grunted.

“I will say, I didn’t take you for a bottom,” I said to the Brit. Johnny broke into laughter, cupping his hand over his mouth to quell the noise. A loud pounding on the door drew our attention. I shot a glance at Johnny, and then Simon. 

“Guess we were too loud then, huh?” Johnny shrugged.

Masterlist

[i-am-countess-olivia]

May I interest you all in a short, implausible Rossier thruple ficlet?

In which James and Ann Ross devise a most unusual means of diverting Francis’ thoughts away from his failed proposal. [G-rated]

--------

“Oh Frank, your face,” Ann laughs and takes his hand. “Is it really so surprising that he told me?”

The folio of Antarctic flora streaks muddy and brown while Francis' vision blurs. He finds he cannot breathe, as if thrust out too quickly into frozen air.

“Ann,” he manages. “When?”

Ann closes the book and pats his arm. “First you must sit. You look as if you might faint.”

Impossibly small in his own paw yet steadying and firm, her hand tugs him towards the chaise. Francis sinks down, dazed like a man on the eve of his execution.

"When did he tell—" He swallows the rest, cannot meet Ann's eye.

Ann folds her hands in her lap, two snow white islands floating on a periwinkle satin sea. “A few weeks before we wed."

“You mean to say— oh, Christ. Oh God." The sharp swell of shame pitches Francis forward, over his knees. "I stood there. His best man. And you knew?"

The innocent triumph and warm breezes of that October day. The gleam of James' sword hilt, blue asters and blush pink roses, the billow of silk lace. Spoiled, dirtied, smeared with what Francis couldn't help but take—

He shoots up, spins and bows sharply from the waist, a wretched, stumbling, ridiculous display. "Lady Ross, I cannot beg forgiveness but I plead with you to allow me to stop offending you at once with my presence."

"Oh hush with all that nonsense, Frank. You will stay."

She speaks it with the same brand of quiet, insouciant command that beguiled Francis' heart to the ends of the earth. Her piercing eyes two dark marbles, mined from the same lode as his.

Just as you and I are two halves, Frank, so she and I are one being. Do you understand?

Francis sits.

"I am not offended," Ann advances in measured tones, "nor am I here to open a tribunal against you, nor is James. I find myself entirely contented with and clear on what has passed between you. Men, I know, are not the same in solitude as my own sex. And besides, I believe souls as bound up as our three should be entirely open to each other."

Francis stares disbelieving, as if her calm were a gleaming mirage. No, there must be suffering here to be unearthed. He will claw it out with his bare hands and make all good again.

"Ann, you may not grasp— there were times it happened, in the south, after— you were already betrothed—"

"I know. James detailed every episode you shared, beginning with your time under Parry. Not that many, as I understand."

Francis whispers up to God and runs a shaking hand over this mouth, through the cold damp gathered above his lip. Episodes. Twenty three to be exact, over the years. He keeps them like a small silk sachet filled with diamonds, pinned to rattle forever against his breast.

"But not since you wed," he says pathetically. "Never, in fact, on England's soil—"

Ann doesn't seem to hear him. Her hands smooth idly down her skirts, two fingers flicking at some speck. 'The shock I felt when he told me was quite brief and shallow in nature," she continues. "Upon closer examination, I discovered that this matter stirred in my heart three separate emotions. May I tell you what they were, Frank?"

Helplessly, Francis nods.

"Firstly, I was glad and gratified that James wished me to know him so completely. That he trusted me with a knowledge few could be entrusted with. Then I also felt— not pity, that is too sad a word. Rather a heartfelt sympathy towards you, Frank. I hope you didn't suffer too much, thinking you were giving him away."

He did. He does. Still now, every day.

"And the third?"

A touch of colour steals into Ann's pale cheeks. "I— asked James for the particulars—"

"Oh God," Francis whispers. "Ann. Thot. You didn't."

"—and after he related them, it comforted me to know that you comforted and pleased him when I could not, in those terrible icy wastes. But our James—" her laugh chimes for an instant like a bell— "well, you know what poetry he can make of his yarns. Now you must forgive me, Frank, but when I pictured you two, warm and close together with auroras blazing overhead—" It's the most fleeting of things, but her tongue brushes her lips and leaves a sheen behind. "I confess it warmed me too, to think of it."

Something stirs in the room, a feeling like a warm October breeze. A clock chimes, dust swirls in the light. Distant footsteps strike staccato on a flight of steps. Satin rustling, Ann shifts slightly in her seat.

Francis' face and throat have turned to flame.

“Why this now, Thot?”

Her small hands glide across the satin sea and pry Francis' hands away from his knees. They're warm and dry and clasping, an affirmation of her sincerity. How easily she touches him, it dawns on him. How easily she has always touched him, with James' casual possessiveness.

"We are both so sorry for what has occurred between you and Miss Cracroft. We have watched you suffer these last few days, we see how you cannot tear your mind away." Her eyes twinkle with a smile. "But now I suspect you won't dwell on that whole business as much. Will you, dear Frank?"

Francis feels his mouth fall open, gaping, uncouth. The cunning and kindness of it all — so like James. So like them both.

An impulse seizes him, too powerful to resist. He bends down and, with fierce, bewildered gratitude and a host of other feelings he can barely address, presses kiss after kiss to those small, warm, steady hands.

Ann welcomes him with a laugh that dies down to a sigh. “Dearest, dearest Frank. If only you knew how glad we are to have you here. What sense of wholeness you— ah, there you are."

At the change in her voice, Francis lifts up and follows the course of Ann's brightening gaze. Behind them, James leans smiling in the doorway.

"Leave a drop of that sweetness for me, old boy."

Francis’ heart darts wildly like a young fox across an Arctic shelf.