#also my skin is baby levels of sensitive so wiping it off made my face hurt

[undasura]

i dont try to wear makeup anymore because it's Fucking Hard to do but also i just dont have the energy or stamina in my arms to attempt to. but i think makeup is fun if you want to do it or try it out

[kissenturine]

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 tartaglia x m!reader — 3.8k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: amab reader, reader is a dom at first then switches halfway through, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie, light feminization (childe says pussy once), use of good boy amongst other pet names, light degradation, praise (for both reader and childe), childe sucks reader's dick, childe also eats reader's ass, cockwarming (childe can't take it LMAO), no aftercare written but it is given, childe licks ur fingers to clean them, mating press, dirty talk. lmk if i missed any!

KAI SAYS: almost 4k words of pure smut haha but like omg i wrote this so late at night with my tip so pls spare me AND!!! this is my return post so...

Tartaglia knows you’re doing it on purpose now, because how can you not be? He whimpers, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he feels you clench around him. “Baby, please.” He whines out, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I-I can’t—baby, it’s been thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes he’d been buried to the hilt in you; his dick hard and twitching as it stuffes you full.

Tartaglia whines. He could faintly hear the sound of you taking a deep breath, but that’s not what he was focusing on. No, he was focusing more on the way you squeeze him as you inhale. It was on purpose, he knew you couldn’t just be faking this.

With a deep breath, doing his best to steel his nerves, Tartaglia pressed his thumbs into the joysticks of his console again. “I…” He murmurs softly into the skin of your neck. “I don’ think I can beat this level.”

“No.” You coo in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours. “You can.”

Tartaglia nods his head, your encouragement helping lift his mood somewhat. But, true to his word, he dies yet again. Tartaglia lets out a pathetic whine when he’s greeted with the ‘You Died!’ Screen for the nth time tonight. This bet was made specifically with his torture in mind. You knew he would never beat this level, so to “motivate” him, as you put it, you would sit nice and still on his sensitive cock until he beat it.

“Can’t you move just a little, please.” Tartaglia begs, his dignity long gone. You’re evil for this, he thinks, but all of that is lost when you shift your hips slightly, his mind going blank at just the smallest friction.

He feels his tip bump your prostate, and Tartaglia knows he’s hit it when you moan out, your mouth right by his ear as his fingers press harshly against the buttons of his game console. “P-please!” He whines again. “I-I need you t’move, just a little, just a little, please.”

“Maybe, if you last another thirty minutes, I’ll consider it.” You hum, and Archons Tartaglia thinks he's losing his mind with the way your breath trickles over his ear. “But, if you make it through the level…” Your voice trails off, but Tartaglia knows what you meant.

If he makes it through the level, Tartaglia could finally fuck you. Push you against the bed, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, maybe make you sit on his face until you cry. The options, at least to him, are endless.

You trail your hand over the neck of his shirt, and Tartaglia’s eyes dart from the screen to you. You, all dressed up in your white lace panties and thigh highs, with your chest arched against his chest and here he was, still fully clothed.

Well, only thanks to you.

You, like the cruel man you are, wouldn’t let Tartaglia strip. You’d forced him to watch as you changed, stripping off your pyjamas and slipping on the lace lingerie while he sat there, half sure he was drooling. And then you’d gone and pressed him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit as you pulled out his leaking dick, not even bothering to pull his sweats all the way down. Then you sat your pretty hole on his dick, and Tartaglia couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way your ass practically swallowed him whole.

And then, began this whole ordeal of pure torture.

You’re sat on his lap, facing Tartaglia as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks over your body and behind you to the console gripped tightly in his hands.

Tartaglia’s eyes dart to you, and they widen as he watches you shift on his dick, your tip forcing its way over the hem of your panties, now drooling pre all over his shirt. Tartaglia squeezes his eyes shut. You press a kiss right under his ear and Tartaglia twitches inside you. You let out a lewd moan and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

Not another thirty minutes, or another five.

Tartaglia’s hands shake, and he’s forced to watch his in-game character die again. “Fuck…” He whispers, trying not to roll his hips into your heat. “I… You’re torturing me. Can’t take this.” He whines.

You shake your head. “C’mon, baby.” You coo, using the nickname Tartaglia always uses for you. It sounds almost mocking the way it slips from your pretty lips, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You might wanna hurry up, or I’ll have to pull out my old dildo to help me…”

No! Tartaglia thinks, and he voices such thoughts with the aggressive shake of his head against you. I can do better than a stupid dildo!

“P-Please don’t.” he says weakly. “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Tartaglia starts to concentrate on his console once again, doing his best to ignore the squeeze of your ass and the warmth of your walls.

Your tip drools pre across his shirt, twitching gently against the fabric. Tartaglia’s mouth waters. He wants to taste you, wants to bury his face between your thighs and lick every drop up. It’s an indulgence he wants to become reality more than anything.

“Can I at least touch you, please?" he asks desperately, gaze not leaving your tip. Tartaglia wants to be closer to you, to have a hand on your soft skin, to play with your dick that was so close to the cumming. He’s ready to do anything in order to make you cum, to feel you pulse around his dick. He’s losing his mind, and the game was the least of his worries. Tartaglia wants you.

"Touch me before you finish the level, and there'll be consequences." You hum. "And trust me, if you think this is bad, just wait until you see what I have in mind." you press your lips gently against Tartaglia’s neck, trailing from his adam's apple to that sweet spot right under his ear. "I'm sure you'd deprive some sick form of enjoyment from that, though."

Tartaglia whimpers at the threat. He doesn’t know what would be worse: the current situation or the punishment you offer. Sick form of enjoyment… His mind echoes. He would most likely enjoy anything you gave him right now.

And like an answer to his prayers, you shift on his dick again. Tartaglia watches as your tip pokes above the fabric of your lace panties, even higher than before. The used-to-be white was now a dark grey with the way your pre had stained and wet through the fabric. Your panties were completely soaked through, the bulge from your dick covered in pre from your leaking tip, poking just above the hem.

Slowly, you tug your dick out of the panties, making sure to slather your fingers in your precum before pressing them against Tartaglia’s lips. "Clean them up." You whisper, and the sound of your voice almost makes him melt.

The instant your fingers press against his lips, Tartaglia is eagerly licking them into his mouth, his tongue swirling your digits around and coating them in his spit. He didn’t hesitate to continue sucking on your fingers, despite knowing they were already clean enough.

“Such an eager boy,” You murmur as you yank your fingers from Tartaglia's lips. There’s a string of drool that connects your hand to his pouty lips as he gives you another pleading look.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He begs, “Please, I’ve been so good for you!” Tartaglia licks his lips, savouring the faint taste of you. He wants more, he wants to grab you by the waist and bury his face between your thighs and suck you off until you’re nothing but a mess inside his mouth.

You bring your fingers back down to your dick, swiping them over your tip and harshly pressing them against Tartaglia’s mouth. “Suck.” You command in a harsh voice, completely ignoring his previous question.

Tartaglia’s lips go back around your fingers again. He doesn’t need to be told twice when you’re the one telling him. He easterly laps at your fingers, ignoring the drool that threatens to spill from the corner of his lips. You press your fingers down against his tongue and he chokes lightly, lifting his blue eyes to meet yours,

When you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth, Tartaglia buries his head into your neck about to ask to touch you again—only for you to beat him to it. “You get two minutes to touch me, but you can only use your hands.” You start. “And, we have to stay in this position. No pulling out or thrusting." You press a kiss against Tartaglia’s lips. "Think of it as... encouragement to finish the level faster."

Tartaglia nods happily at your words, pulling off your neck to get a better view of you. “Thank you—thank you, baby, needed this.” He slurs as his eyes rake down your exposed body before honing in on your sensitive cock. He wishes you’d let him lick that instead of your fingers, but you were clear on your rules for the two minutes.

Tartaglia has two minutes, a whole two minutes to make you feel good. There’s no way he’s let them go to waste.

He wastes no time when the game is finally paused. Tartaglia cups your balls gently, feeling the weight of them in his palm. He massages them slowly, his thumb rubbing up and down the underside of your dick, feeling the warmth and the leaking pre that slipps down your shaft. Tartaglia knows nothing can make you cum in this position, but he can make you squirm, he can tease you.

His other hand wanders up, his fingers ghosting over your skin, drawing circles around your nipples before pinching them gently. He wants to hear you moan, to see you writhe. Tartaglia needs to know he was pleasing you. He gazes at your face, waiting to see a reaction, anything to show that he’s making you feel good.

Your eyes roll back and your dick twitches hard against Tartaglia’s hand. “T-Tartaglia…!” You moan out, your back arching into his chest. Tartaglia’s fingers pull gently at you nipples, tweaking and twisting the nubs between his thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes roll back and Tartaglia whines at the sight, sliding his thumb faster up and down your dick, rolling it over your tip before sliding it against your slit.

He feels your hole clench around his dick, and Tartaglia has to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stop himself from bucking into you. He’s about to roll his hand again when it’s suddenly pushed away from your leaking dick. You yank his hands off your nipples too, panting as you do. “Two minutes have passed.” You mumble.

Tartaglia knows you were close from the way you sounded to the way you jerked your hips into his hand. “I’m sorry.” He whines, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in his heart.

With a deep breath, Tartaglia focuses back on the game again, he hopes that this time he’ll finally beat the level. He’s determined, he wants to make you cum, to please you. He needs to win.

You slump against his shoulder, clearly needy. Tartaglia sucks in a breath. You were so close. He thinks. His focus turns back to the game, moving the joystick and pressing the rounded buttons as skillfully as he can manage with you taking his cock to the hilt,

Tartaglia feels you lean forward, your hands dipping under the hem of his shirt. “I wanna see you…” You whine and his face flushes. Tartaglia doesn’t have time to respond before the game console is slipping from his hands and you’re tugging his shirt off his figure.

Another eternity passes as Tartaglia picks up the console once again, doing his best to beat the level. He closes his eyes—just about to give up when the victory music blasts throughout the bedroom. “Finally—fuck, fuck, baby.” Tartaglia groans, tossing the console and pouncing on you.

His lips press against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. Tartaglia is kissing you harshly, his lips flush against yours as your tongue gently swirls with his.

He pulls away after a minute, both of your faces flushed and panting. “I-I’m sorry it took me so long.” Tartaglia apologizes. He wants to please you, make you cum, see you lose control just because of him. He was desperate to feel you squirm against him, he wants to see the way your face would twist in pleasure when he fucks you just right.

Tartaglia slowly pulls out, hissing as he leaves your comforting warmth and is met with the harsh, cold outside air.

“Let me take you, please…” He begs, his eyes filled with desire and the need to have you. Tartaglia wanted you—no, needed you. His hand wanders back to your dick, wrapping his palm around your shaft and quickly jerking you up and down at a messy pace.

Tartaglia would do anything to have you come undone on his dick.

“Uh-huh.” You whine, and Tartaglia thinks it’s cute how all your confidence diminishes the instant you're offered some dick.

He watches you twist your body to lay flat against the bed on your back. Slowly, your legs splay into the air before you pull them back and bend them at your knees. Your ass, all empty and clenching around nothing, is now fully exposed to Tartaglia. Your hole is stretched already, from the much too long of a time you spent just sitting on his dick. Your own cock lays across your tummy, twitching and drooling uselessly,

Tartaglia sucks in a breath at the sight of your hole. His dick is throbbing at the sight, pressing angrily against his tummy, so hard and needy. He wants to do nothing more than bury himself inside you, to feel your warm muscle clench around him once more.

Slowly, he lowers himself into a kneeling position right in front of you. Tartaglia dips his head to your ass, pressing light kisses across the curve of your thighs. He trails his mouth down to your dick, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes roll back at the feeling of finally having you in his mouth. Tartaglia sucks harshly, bobbing his head up and down your length. He runs his tongue over the underside of your shaft.

Tartaglia swirls his tongue around your overly sensitive tip, watching and depriving pure enjoyment of the way your hips buck into his mouth messily. You throw an arm over your face, trying to muffle your breathless moans and flushed face. Tartaglia gives you a harsh suck for warning, letting you know that if you don’t remove your hand now, things would get worse.

You, of course, comply, pushing your hand to the sheets and clenching them in your fist.

Tartaglia hums happily, the vibrations travelling across your shaft. He feels you twitch in his mouth and your legs thrash beside his head, squeezing and pulsing by his ears as he goes faster, making sure to let the drool spill from his lips as he moves his head.

Tartaglia pushes his lips down to your base bringing a hand to fondle your balls gently and you whine, your back arching off the bed. Your hand goes to tangle itself into Tartaglia’s hair, pushing your dick deeper down his throat. “I—holy shit—I’m c-close!” You whine, and that was enough of a signal to pull off your dick.

Tartaglia smears kisses across your ass, ignoring your desperate whines and cries, before eventually leading to your puffy hole, all nice and stretched for him. He’s quick to bury his mouth against you, already feeling his brain go mushy at the feeling. His tongue slips into you easily, and you whine at the feeling.

Tartaglia fucks his tongue into you with great fervour, not even caring for his hard dick. All he can think about is the taste of you on his tongue, the way your hole clenches down so nicely against his mouth and those sweet, sweet moans of: “M-More, please, need you so bad!” That slip from your lips and get his hips rocking his dick into the side of the mattress.

Tartaglia’s tongue pushes and prods into you, again and again until he hears you moan loudly. His eyes dart up, barely able to catch the way your back arches. Your legs shake around him yet again, your thighs squeezing around his ears, which only drives him to thrust his tongue into you further. Drool slips down his chin, but he doesn’t care, all he wants is to taste you again, and again, because, fuck, if he died right here, between your thighs, he would die a happy man.

“Right there!” You cry, Your legs threatening to squeeze tightly on Tartaglia’s head. He pushes his tongue in again, thrusting it in and out of your hole with a scary precision, making sure he hits your prostate every time.

“O-Oh, my—fuck, can’t take it!” You whine and he smirks against your tightening hole. “I need you, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You’re a complete mess, babbling nonsense as he eats you out, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in ecstasy,

All it took was him shoving a finger in, curling it in time with his tongue, for you to cum. Tartaglia eagerly pulls off your ass, watching as your dick twitches against your tummy and ropes of cum shoot from your member. He waits until you're finished before pressing his face against the mess you just made and licking it clean.

Tartaglia looks up at you from his position against your belly. “I….” He whines. “I’m still hard.” He gives an apologetic smile before going back to his first position in front of the bed, this time standing up. He lifts your collapsed legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he slaps his cock beside your limp one.

As quickly as he can, Tartaglia grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and smears it all over his shaft. “Help me out, pretty boy.” He whines and you whimper at the nickname. Slowly, you push yourself onto your elbows just enough to push your hand to his dick and help him spread the lube.

Tartaglia doesn’t even bother to continue once you start, only throwing his head back with a loud groan. “That’s it, o-oh, archons you’re good at this.” His eyes squeeze shut and Tartaglia has to stop himself from cumming on the spot for the nth time tonight. He doesn’t even bother to lube your hole, only murmuring a sweet, “This pussies wet enough for me, right?” before he’s pressing a messy kiss to your neck.

“Not a pussy.” You slur, but he doesn't take any mind.

“D-Don’t worry, baby.” Tartaglia coos as he presses his thick tip against your weak hole. “Promise it’ll feel so good…” He wants to be inside you, to make you come again and again.

And suddenly, he’s halfway in, the thick of Tartaglia’s shaft being swallowed almost whole by your pretty ass was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. You whine lowly, back instinctively arching into him, forcing yourself deeper onto his dick.

“Fuck, baby, look what you do t’me.” He groans, pulling out so it’s just his tip stuck in your pretty, clenching hole. Tartaglia fucks his tip into you, watching it messily slide out then in, then out then in, over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and can’t help but want more.

Tartaglia—like the pathetic man he knows he is—can’t take it anymore. He pushes in fully, but just before he does, spits a large glob of drool from his lips to the tip of your spent cock watching it twitch under the feeling. He laughs, watching your dick twitch back to life. “And to think you get off to me spitting on you.” He murmurs, before finally thrusting in fully, in one, harsh movement.

The moan you let out is so pretty and high, and Tartaglia can feel his balls grow heavy at the sound. Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the lewd squelch of his dick pressing in, in, in and against your prostate, his tip knocking easily at it.

Tartaglia pistons his hips into you, basking in the moans and pleas for “more, more, more!” that slipped from your pretty lips. He’s pounding into you, and Tartaglia watches your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands shake as you desperately reach out to grab onto the sheets for leverage as he pushes your legs up, leaning down onto your body as he forces you into a mating press.

And, oh, Tartaglia feels like he just slipped so much deeper into you, and with the way your walls squeeze and clench and you moan his name like a mantra—Tartaglia is sure he’s just died and reached heaven.

His thrusts start to lose their rhythm, but they still manage to fill you up so much that, before Tartaglia can process what’s happening, you're crying out, your ass clenching so tightly against him he thinks he sees stars.

“I—I’m close, ‘m so close!” You cry and Tartaglia can’t help but bury his face into your neck as he thrust into your ass.

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers out. Tartaglia reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones, before letting out a loud moan. “Together, please, baby, cum together.”

And you’re eagerly nodding your head, a mix of “yes” and “please” leaving your lips. Tartaglia isn’t even pulling out anymore, just knocking his hips against yours—no rhythm or pattern, just instinct as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Cummin’ o-oh—fuck!” You whine and Tartaglia instantly does too, feeling the way your dick spurts thick ropes of white onto your chest and his only drives him to the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can before collapsing onto you, pressing his full weight onto his hips. Tartaglia shoots a thick load of his seed into your awaiting hole, whining in content as he feels you milk his cock, squeezing down on him.

You’re panting, laying on the bed with Tartaglia pressed on top of you. His arms snake around your waist, tugging and twisting your connected bodies so that he’s spooning you, his chin resting on top of you’re head.

After a minute of rest, Tartaglia’s arms squeeze around your waist. “Love you, so much.” He murmurs tiredly.

“Promise?” You giggle back, despite the feeling of your exhaustion weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“Always an’ forever.” Tartaglia whispers sweetly. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you bask in the afterglow in each other’s arms. “I’ll love you, always and forever.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[mysunnylemonade]

insecurities | lee jeno

↳ pairing: lee jeno (nct) x fem!reader

↳ genre: slight angst, mostly fluff & suggestive but only if u squint rlly hard

↳ word count: 1482

↳ warning: reader being insecure about her looks i guess?? (love urself ppl yall beautiful <3)

song recommendation: met a girl by tarune

♡

Hate was a strong word, but you felt it was appropriate to say that you absolutely hated nights like the one you were having on this particular day. Standing half-naked in front of the full-body mirror situated in the corner of your shared bedroom, your eyes swept over your body once more. You despised the way your gaze lingered on the stretch marks that tainted your skin.

Wallowing in self-pity and stressing over your physical flaws wasn't exactly a standard routine for you, especially when Jeno was around. But your boyfriend wouldn't be back until late at night, having texted you he had something to do that would require him to stay at the studio longer than usual.

You turned to the side, pressing your palm over your stomach, rubbing up and down as if it would magically flatten your abdomen. Nothing happened, of course, leaving you feeling sick and fed up with the thoughts you were having.

You wiped the tears accumulating in your eyes, not allowing it to trickle down your cheeks. You could see your boyfriend's face in your mind and briefly wondered whether you were truly good enough for him. You didn't blame your insecurities on him, never. Your boyfriend was nothing but loving, and he showered you with gifts just as much as he showered you with loving words, but there were times when it was remarkably hard to believe his kind words.

You wished you could miraculously switch off your mind and climb out of this self-loathing pit you had willingly put yourself into. It was your fault, you would admit that. If you hadn't decided to strip into your underwear and scrutinise yourself in the mirror then maybe you would've been in the dining room enjoying the dinner you had made by now.

As you were stepping closer to the mirror to get a better lock at your face, you heard the turning of a key in a lock before the front door was pushed open. The realisation that Jeno had come home much earlier than you expected kept you paralysed on the spot. It wasn't until you heard the front door shutting that you were finally able to move, hastily wiping the tears from your reddened eyes and shrugging on the robe you had carelessly tossed onto the bed.

You heard him call for your name but you didn't respond, scurrying into the bathroom to wash your face in hopes of being able to get rid of any evidence that you had been crying. Jeno couldn't know. You weren't going to drag him into your mess.

You cursed to yourself as you studied your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks and nose were flushed, and your eyes were unmistakably bloodshot. There was no way Jeno wouldn't notice.

"Baby, you in here?" Jeno called out from the entrance of the bedroom. You heard shuffling as he took off his jacket. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously close to the bathroom, and you immediately faked a smile. "Hey, why haven't you eaten dinner yet? Were you waiting for me?"

Turning your head, you were met with your boyfriend's figure standing in the bathroom doorway. It tugged your heart to see him look so beautiful, even after a whole day of working. You just couldn't understand why he had chosen you. Why hadn't he picked someone with less baggage and imperfections?

You watched as his small smile transformed into a frown. Without any hesitation, he stepped forward to grab your hand. "Hey, have you been crying? What's wrong?"

You forced a quiet chuckle. "I was watching this new romance movie that just released." You watched his face closely, swallowing when you saw that his worried expression hadn't dissipated at all. "Have you eaten dinner yet? Go shower and come eat dinner with me."

You squeezed his hand assuringly once more before walking past him to give him some privacy in the bathroom. "Were you really just watching a movie? You look like you've been crying for hours."

You plopped onto the bed with a huff and looked up to see Jeno had walked out of the bathroom and was slowly approaching your sitting form. "Babe, we've been dating long enough for you to know I'm sensitive when it comes to tragic endings."

He stood in front of you, cupping your cheeks in his hand to tilt your head up. "Yeah, and I also know my girlfriend enough to know whenever she's lying."

You managed to smile and shake your head as he pressed his thumbs to caress the irritated skin underneath your puffy eyes. "Jeno, I'm okay."

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against yours, causing your noses to brush. The both of you stayed like that for a few more seconds, and you welcomed the distraction. You wanted to forget the cause of your previous breakdown and Jeno's presence was helping tremendously.

Feeling the gentle brush of his lips against yours, you gasped, hands flying to grasp his arms. "Jeno," you breathed, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. They were dark, wild, so lovely.

"Tell me," he muttered softly.

Unable to look into his eyes as you confessed, you looked down at your lap. "I'm sorry," you began. "It's just so stupid. You're the best boyfriend there is, you treat me so well, and you're just so beautiful, Jeno, and I don't know how to... compete with that."

Once again, he forced your head up so he could look into his eyes. "Baby, we're not competing for anything. What are you trying to say?"

"I just can't understand why you're still with me. I'm so flawed, and you can settle for someone who's so much more good looking, someone who can give you so much more than I can."

Jeno's face remained expressionless as he gazed down at you, but you could tell the gears in his head were all turning. His silence worried you so you shifted in your seat awkwardly.

He seemed to notice your slight movement and finally snapped out of his train of thoughts. "Wait, you're not messing with me, right?"

Groaning, you tried to stand up, but he held your waist before you could walk away. "Okay, I know it's stupid. Can we just forget about it? Please?"

His eyes widened and he pulled you closer to him until there was no space left in between the two of you. "No, no, this is far from stupid. If you feel this way, it means I haven't done a good job at being your boyfriend. I'm supposed to be making you feel loved, but—"

"No! You've been a perfect boyfriend, you're perfect. It's not your fault, seriously, it's mine."

"If this is about the way you look, then I'll have to disagree and say that it's not your fault. Everything you consider imperfections or flaws, they're a part of you, and I fell in love with that a long time ago, and I'm not falling out of love anytime soon."

"I'm sorry for being so insecure. I just... I feel like you deserve better."

His lips broke out into a soft yet wistful smile. "You're not in any position to tell me what I deserve and don't baby," he mumbled lightheartedly. "Being with you was a choice that I made, loving you is something that I choose to do until now. All these choices that I made are all choices that I made deliberately, not because I'm forced to."

Unable to say anything else, your tears began to blur your visions once again, but this time it was because you were thankful. You felt so blessed that out of all of the people in the world, you ended up with Lee Jeno—a boy whose smile shone as bright as the sun and whose heart was beautiful and kind. "I love you so much," you managed to splutter out.

Sensing the oncoming tears, Jeno bent his knees a little so that he was eye-level with you. "Hey, don't cry, I love you too," he spoke, his smile now reaching his eyes, turning them into the little crescent moon that you adored so much. "You make me happy, and that's more than enough for me. Is that enough for you?"

You nodded. "All I ever want is for you to be happy, Jeno."

He visibly relaxed at this, and gone was the solemn atmosphere that once lingered in the air. "That's settled then. You're not getting rid of me that easily because you want me happy and I'm the happiest when I'm with you. So, will you lie down on the bed for me now?"

Tilting your head, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"

"I still need to show you how beautiful you are to me and I don't think words are gonna cut it."

"Lee Jeno!"

♡

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[realhotdweebshit]

thunderstorms | nsfw

pairing: Thor x Black Reader

summary: Thunderstorms make Thor...moody. Meg thee Stallion style. While Thor is indeed the god of thunder, thunder (in return) wields a sort of power of him. Particularly his temperament--his emotions are intensified. Be it joy, sadness, anger, or lust (your favorite), his sensitivity to that emotion is multiplied by nearby storms. All the electricity in the air...and it's the summer. Shit.

warnings: teasing, femdom, v light bondage, cheesy writing overall

rating: mature (18+) not graphic but v horny

___

You absentmindedly swipe through the apps on your home screen, trying to kill time as you wait for the elevator. Your background distracts you for a moment; a photo of Thor Odinson, previously King of Asgard and Ruler of the Nine Realms and currently your boyfriend, asleep on your couch. He's so cute, you think to yourself. A sudden ding yanks your head up. The doors open, revealing an empty car. You and someone in a worn college hoodie enter. You recognize them as your neighbor, living one level below. You exchange nonverbal hellos before resuming your separate reveries.

You unlock your screen once more, reflexively. No notifications in the last 90 seconds? Baffling. Bored, you decide to check the weather.

Cloudy, cloudy, cloudy--Jesus, what a bummer week, you think to yourself until your eyes land on Friday night. 100% chance of thunderstorms.

"Oh fuck yeah!" you say out loud. You panic as you remember your neighbor standing beside you. Thank God, headphones. Like clockwork the elevator doors open. They shoot you a tired smile before exiting.

The moment the doors close, you break into a pelvic thrust heavy celebratory dance.

...

Thunderstorms make Thor...moody. Meg thee Stallion style. While Thor is indeed the god of thunder, thunder (in return) wields a sort of power of him. Particularly his temperament--his emotions are intensified. Be it joy, sadness, anger, or lust (your favorite), his sensitivity to that emotion is multiplied by nearby storms. All the electricity in the air...and it's the summer. Shit.

If I play my cards right, this one night could lead to a three day dick down. You smirk to yourself as wicked ideas fly through your head. Oh, he's going to hate you this week.

It'll be worth it.

Teasing is one of your favorite pastimes. Thor "hates" it. You add quotes because while he gets visibly vexed once he catches on to what you're doing, he also gets tangibly turned on and encourages you to go further.

The word encourages is being polite. Begs is the exact term. An image of Thor panting flashes before your eyes.

You’re sitting poised at the end of the bed, dragging your fingers in lazy circles on the inside of his thigh. Your eyes zoom in on your favorite silk head scarf, tied in a neat bow around Thor’s wrists at the top of your metal bed frame. Of course he could free himself at any moment, but that was your favorite scarf. If he ripped it, you certainly wouldn’t be in the mood to continue, and he certainly wouldn’t survive being left hanging. Not in this position, I mean he’s completely naked.

Your eyes darted to his heaving chest. His breath was uneven. A thin sheen of sweat blanketed his muscular frame. You glanced at his face and saw more beads forming at his forehead.

“You dare treat a god this way?” He rasped.

“You don’t like how I’m touching you?” You replied with thinly veiled faux concern, withdrawing your fingers. He nearly snarled with frustration.

“You’ve had me bound to your bed for two hours and barely touched me. This is torture,” he spat out. You immediately wrapped your hand around his throbbing third leg, massaging it. The relieved moans that burst through him shocked the both of you, but you kept up your rhythm. His body collapsed into your touch; his head lolled to the side.

“I don’t want to torture you, baby. I just want to make you feel good,” you assured him. He moaned louder, and his hips began to roll with your movements. Out of the window you noticed clouds begin to loom and you grinned.

Tssst.

A tiny tearing sound wiped the smile from your face and halted your hand. Thor’s head shot up and his eyes met yours. You saw genuine fear in his eyes and knew in that moment that you truly were the baddest bitch in the nine realms.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry it was only a tear it was only a tear I won’t do it again,” he said in one breath. He was nearly hyperventilating. You tore your hand off of him and he wailed.

“First you accuse me of torture then you rip my favorite scarf? What am I supposed to wear next time I don't feel like doing my hair? Clearly you're not appreciating my efforts tonight-”

“Please, please don’t stop,” he cut you off. “I beg you please, let me apologize, let me show you how much I appreciate you, please.”

The high that washed over you was almost overwhelming. Your skin was practically buzzing. You were suddenly drunk with power, and power made you greedy.

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. For a second, I thought I heard the god of thunder begging. What did you just say?”

He gritted his teeth for a moment, then exhaled.

“I beg you, y/n,” he whispered, eyes pleading. “Release me, and I will make it up to you right away. A thousand times over.”

Your eyes widen with excitement as you stand up to untie him. “A thousand times over? You forget I’m a mere mortal.”

The moment the fabric falls to the floor his arms snake around your waist. Thor tucks you underneath him as he spreads your legs.

“Prepare for divine intervention, my love.”

You snap out of the fond memory almost as quickly as you fell into it. You squirm in discomfort, feeling the effects of your daydreaming soak into your underwear. Thank God you made it back to your apartment before becoming a horny mess.

Thor’s apology touched you so deeply you had to call out of work the next day. And that was without a storm.

With an evil smile, you begin to plan your attack.

___

ahh! i haven't published fic in a long time. let me know what you think! if you vibe with a Black femme gay who enjoys nerdy fanfic, let's follow each other <3

[hansolmates]

hoshi; vowels and veracity (m)

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. pairing: teacher!soonyoung x single mother!reader genre/warnings: fluffity fluff nuggets, humor, a lil bit of angst when yn panics, *steve rogers voice* language! alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap the pickle before u tickle), face sitting w/c: 5.2k a/n: i really have nothing to say about this but i’ve been thinking about going back to school all week so this manifested. enjoy a lil sexy but sweet hosh💕 

“Y-you,” another giggle and the press of wet lips to the sensitive spot of your neck, “stop, Soonyoung! I’m ticklish there!” 

You feel a pout imprint itself in the sweet spot between your ear and your jaw, and you sigh at the rumble of his lips against your skin, “But you taste so sweet, baby,” he croons, and you’re practically melting between the door with how much Soonyoung has pressed himself against you, all of himself. 

“What if I don’t wanna stop, pretty girl?” he husks against your soft skin, whispering things in your ear that aren’t for the faint of heart. In your haste to keep a firm grip, one hand goes to his clothes and the other nips at the undercut of his midnight black hair, “what if I just open the door right now and we slip right in, and then I slip right in you?” 

Your breath hitches and suddenly your core feels like a timebomb, ready to combust. 

Go on a date, Joshua says. He’s a sweet guy, Joshua says. He’s a friend of Joshua’s, so you know going into this blind date that at the very least, he wasn’t a serial killer. But what Joshua failed to tell you going into this was how much Kwon Soonyoung packed and how much of a temptor in disguise he is. 

“I really would love to invite you in,” it looks like it pains Soonyoung to admit this, as he presses his forehead to yours and the edge of his fingers dig into your crushed emerald velvet number, “but tomorrow’s the first day of work and I am not emotionally prepared. But, I do want to see you again. I had a great time.” 

The previous mood melting into the night sky, you reluctantly let go of the lapels of his tweed blazer. Unable to suppress your crestfallen smile you nod, “That’s fine,” you reply, inching away from him to send him a pointed look, “I wouldn’t have gone inside anyway. I don’t put out on the first date,” you cross your arms in an attempt to feign nonchalance.  

Which isn’t a lie, although if Soonyoung had asked you two minutes ago to come inside for a cup of tea, you wouldn’t have argued. He is just that tempting. Said date raises an eyebrow in response, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear at the defiance in your eyes. “Oh?” he echoes, “then what date do you put out?” 

“Date seven.” 

“Lucky seven,” he grins, “so if we go on a date every day this week by Friday we should be good to go. How do you feel about steak?” 

You slap his shoulder in his response, and the giggle that erupts from his lips in response has you feeling dizzy and giddy with excitement. Soonyoung has you feeling like a college freshman all over again, floating like Cloud 9 and drunk in anticipation. You peck one, two more kisses on his lips. He tastes like the peach champagne you shared and his own scent as he pulls you in for a much longer, much hotter kiss. 

“Good luck on your first day,” you mumble against his lips, vaguely remembering that he’s a teacher in a school nearby. 

“Mm, text me when you get home,” and with a final kiss to your forehead he unlocks his door, leaving you warm and full of heart-eyes on his front porch. 

The walk home, more like float home, has you feeling all parts exhausted and hopeful for the days to come. For the first time in a long time you feel young and unbridled, thrumming with excitement. Now you’re just playing with your phone, waiting to exchange goodnight texts. 

“Nari’s asleep,” when you walk into your shared apartment, you spot a sleepy Seungkwan on his laptop and sprawled across your couch. “How was it?” 

“It was reealllly nice,” you’re still a little wine tipsy, drunk on the taste of Merlot and a certain someone’s kisses, “he was really sweet, and surprisingly sexy.” 

“Did you get dicked down?” Seungkwan asks only the most important questions. 

You scoff, flopping down on the couch next to him, “As if, we have work in the morning.” 

“Speaking of work, are you sure you’re not able to drop off Nari to school tomorrow? It’s her first day of kindergarten.” 

“I can’t,” saying it feels absolutely awful, but a single mother has to work extra hard to keep her and her daughter happy. 

“It’s fine,” Seungkwan easily waves you off and runs a hand through his fluffy auburn hair, “her favorite Uncle is there, anyway.” 

“Hey,” you lightly punch his arm, “I’ve already talked Nari through it. I’m cooking a big breakfast tomorrow—chocolate chip pancakes, duh, and taking a million pictures before we have to part ways. I packed a little Kit-Kat for her lunch with a sweet note. When I come back in time for dinner I promised her pizza from her favorite parlor and she can tell me everything about her day.” 

“So, you’re bribing her with food.” 

“Sue me, it’s every parent’s weak spot.” 

Seungkwan stretches his arms, cradling you between his chest. You sigh into his clean linen scent, feeling sleepy. “Yeah, I’ve bribed her with my Switch once or twice,” he admits softly, eyes also drooping, “but you’re a great mother regardless. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Kwannie,” you sigh, feeling more at ease. 

Nari is the light of you and Seungkwan’s life. Five years ago, you promised yourself that if you were more than financially stable and still sick with baby fever, you would adopt. You didn’t want to find a romantic partner for the sole purpose of having a child, you could easily do that on your own. And that you did, you researched and visited foster homes off in the countryside. 

In a little town off the coast of the shore was where you met Nari, only six months old and full with cherub cheeks and eyes that sparkled like the moon and stars. You fell in love with her instantly. Fast forward five years later and she’s the reason you wake up every morning and work hard every day. Seungkwan being your best friend, also wanted rights as the godfather and therefore is also part of your perfect family picture. 

You and Seungkwan sleep warmly tonight, both excited to share yet another year of Nari’s milestones. 

“And then Mr. Kwon said I was an ‘ace’ with my vowels!” Nari has a string of cheese hanging from her chin, and you don’t bat an eye as you reach to pat it away with a napkin. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less, baby,” you coo, carding a hand through her hair so her bangs don’t get caught in her meal, “remember when mommy and Uncle Kwannie taught you the vowels this summer? We sang that song.” 

“Yes! I sang the same song and showed everyone how ‘ta do it,” your heart is swelling with pride, and you fight the urge to tear up because Seungkwan’s already showing signs of waterworks from his side of the table, “I read a book Mr. Kwon gave me today and he said he’s so impressed I read at a Level B.” 

You quirk your brows at the new jargon. You certainly don’t know what it means to be a Level B, but it makes Nari happy and that’s all that matters. Wiping the orange grease off her lips, you muse that you must get in contact with her teacher one of these days.

“What’s a Level B?” Seungkwan similarly looks stumped at the new vocabulary. 

“I don’t know!” Nari shrugs, but nevertheless her teacher’s attention has her glowing. 

You giggle, “I’m so happy for you, baby.” 

“I’m excited to go back tomorrow, I made a new friend! His name is Jeonghan and he helped me with my numbers today. He called my bows cute.” 

“Cute?” Seungkwan perks up from his stupor, “of course you’re cute, Nari. So cute that you’re too good for this Jeonghwan boy.” 

“Jeonghan, Uncle Kwannie,” she pouts when Seungkwan scoffs, in favor of shoving half a slice in his mouth. She turns to you, tugging on your blazer, “Mama, can I go watch TV now? I finished my homework and I wanna see the new Ladybug and Cat Noir!” 

“Of course,” you pull away her plate, gesturing for her to go to the living room. 

“Thank you mama,” and she’s bouncing off her seat, pushing her chair in and off to watch Miraculous Ladybug. 

You sigh, “They grow up so fast.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes widen at your age-old phrase, the words reminding him oddly of his parents when they used to talk down to him. “And here we are, aging twice as fast,” Seungkwan bemoans, already starting to feel the greasy food settle in his stomach. “We used to eat a whole pie! We could eat absolute garbage back in college and here I am weak at two slices—oh my god, am I having a ‘back in my day’ moment? We need to go out. I need to go out. I’ve been practicing consonants and vowels all day. I need a boyfriend,” he playfully narrows his eyes at you, “I need a boyfriend like yours, sweet and sexy.” 

“Sorry,” you stick out your tongue, “but he’s mine.” 

Perfect timing, Soonyoung’s name pops up on your phone. You two have been texting sporadically throughout the day, making plans for your next date. The two of you are going to watch a drive-in movie, a situation that screams teenage-back-of-the-truck-sex but the movie is a much anticipated favorite of yours and you genuinely want to watch it. 

Soonyoung is full of humor and laughs, getting you to smile and relax at the right times during work and always manages to keep you on your toes whenever he says something flirtatious. 

“Are you gonna introduce him to Nari?” 

You stop typing, and look up towards your beautiful little girl in the living room. Her hair is out of her pigtails, drooping tiredly like she is. Her cheek is pressed against her favorite plush cat, fighting for consciousness because she’s waiting for Marinette to save the day. Your heart swells with affection. 

“Dunno,” you shrug, trying not to think too hard about it, “we’re not that serious right now.” 

You’re absolutely winded. You finished work early today, due to the fact that came in early so you could clock out and pick Nari up from school. Despite the fact that Nari says it’s okay for you not to pick her up, you can’t allow it and you want to be the one who she runs into when she comes out the door. 

“Who do you think she’s gonna hug first?” Seungkwan’s elbowing you, baiting you. “Because this morning she gave me a hug and three kisses before I dropped her off.” 

“Three?” you seethe in annoyance, “three kisses is our thing! Two on the cheek and one on the forehead!” 

The two of you slowly steep together, waiting for the colorful blue door to the kindergarten area to file out. The heel of your shoes are digging into the grass, probably making a needle-like  indentation in the dirt as you struggle not to seep into the lawn. You feel like you’re going to flop on your heels, wishing you could go run back into the car and find your flip-flops from last month’s beach trip. But before you could debate on the run the bell rings, and you’re on livewire when you see the students start to file out. 

Your smile grows ten-fold when you see Nari’s jaw drop in surprise, seeing you waiting for her. She fists whatever is in her hands in surprise, breaking into the cutest smile as she screams, “mama!” 

And you’re ready to hold your arms out and throw her around in circles, until you see who follows right behind her. 

Kwon Soonyoung is Nari’s kindergarten teacher. Kwon Soonyoung with his hair down and untextured, wearing a mint polo and looking nothing like the date you had the other night. He looks absolutely soft and so, you are weak. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the sexy deviant who sends you questionable texts and sends you funny puppy videos, is staring right at you and utterly confused when Nari rams straight into your hip. 

Momentarily distracted, you pepper your pretty daughter in kisses (all three of them, two cheeks and one forehead) and tell her how much you’ve missed her. Clearly she doesn’t miss you as much, as she’s waving around a picture she drew during playtime, one of her and Jeonghan in the sandbox. 

“Really, Nari,” Seungkwan mutters under his breath, shamelessly vocalizing his opinion on a five-year old, “can’t you choose a different friend?” 

“Seungkwan!” you chide, but he pointedly annoys you when Nari finally enters Seungkwan’s embrace. He takes extra time to cuddle her, obviously jealous that another boy has taken refuge in your little Nari’s heart. 

The moment is so sweet and simple you have no choice but to revel in it and take out your phone to snap a photo. 

“Mama!” she pops her head off of Seungkwan’s shoulder, “come meet Mr. Kwon!”

And she’s tugging your hand, only you’re much stronger and you stay firmly planted on the grass. Heck, you even sacrifice your shoes by digging your heels in for extra measure.Your eyes widen in panic, but Nari doesn’t notice because she’s paving a path of dirt with her lime green light-up sneakers, trying to get you to move. You nearly forgot your latest tryst is your daughter’s teacher, and you never told him you have a kid. 

But within seconds, there’s an audible slam and the three of you are shattered from your bubble. Turning to the noise the heavy navy door is now locked shut, all the students dismissed for the day. The crowd is gone. Soonyoung is gone. 

Seungkwan’s eyes dart between the closed door and you, the pieces clicking. His mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he nods in understanding. “He thinks I’m your baby daddy.” 

The two of you point out each other like the Spiderman meme. “He thinks you’re my baby daddy,” you echo, horror marrying your face. 

“Mama? What’s a baby daddy?” 

“Shh, Nari—” he picks up Nari in one swoop, mouthing a go to you as he leads her to the car. 

All alone on the grass, you panic as you watch your family grow smaller and smaller as they enter the parking lot. Soonyoung’s just behind that door, right? Looking left and right to assure no one is going to think you’re being that parent and harassing the teacher within the first week of school, you bound up the steps to knock on the door. Your knocks clang heavily, echoing against the building. 

Ten seconds pass. Nothing. 

You deflate, pulling out your phone to shoot Soonyoung a quick text. 

You: hey, can you come out for a bit so i can explain? Please

A minute passes. He leaves you on read. Defeated, you slump against the door. This day is really a whirlwind on your mental state. All you wanted today was some extra time off work, Nari’s three kisses, and maybe a goodnight text from Soonyoung if you were lucky. 

The door suddenly flips open, and you’re braced against someone’s hands. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

Your face crumples in relief when it’s Soonyoung that’s come out to respond to you. He’s bracing your weight by holding your arms between his hands, although keeping a respectable distance between the upper half of your bodies. It makes you a little upset, but you understand. Once you’re stable, he lets you go and leans away from you.

“Why are you waiting out here?” he asks pointedly, looking at you up and down. You seem terribly overdressed in your coral pinstripe suit, mismatching with Soonyoung’s apple sauce stains. 

“Why do you think I’m waiting out here?”

“And if I close the door again?” he retorts suddenly. 

“Then I’ll follow you home.” 

A beat passes, whatever expression he conveys on his face is practiced and primed. You have a terrible time trying to decipher his blankness. Working with kids probably does that to an adult. “Come in,” he says neutrally, and you wordlessly follow him into his classroom. 

The room is decorated beautifully, with rainbows and glitter. It’s also surprisingly organized, all the crayons in place and the play area free of stray toys. Your eyes instantly search for Nari’s desk, and a small smile fits on your face as you trace her handmade name tag. 

“Normally, I don’t let parents in my room until it’s Back to School Night,” Soonyoung says, leaning against his desk. It makes you terribly nervous, knowing the ball is in your court and he’s waiting for you to make a move. His carefree, easy going nature is nowhere to be found, and all you see is walls and a mean poker face. He pulls up the sleeves of his polo, exposing pale, strong arms. Your mouth waters a little (you can’t help it!) and you immediately reach for a bottle of water in your purse. “So, what is it you have to say?” 

“Seungkwan’s not my baby daddy,” you blurt, and you immediately blanch when Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Wow uh. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” 

“But you did say it like that,” Soonyoung replies slowly, “no child just doesn’t give three kisses to someone who isn’t their father.” 

“I only called him my baby daddy because he said it first,” you grumble, almost childishly, “and Nari’s a baby, of course she’s going to give three kisses to anyone that feeds her and coddles her.” 

“It sounds like an excuse.” 

“It sounds like I’m freaking out because you keep talking back and forth like this!” you cry, slapping your hands against your thigh. You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re quickly getting annoyed, your face morphing into a shade of embarrassment. You can’t tell if this is amusing him or this is a real interrogation. “Let me explain, Soonyoung!” 

He says your name slowly, deliberately. And then, “do you want to take a break in the Calm Down Corner?” 

“The—the what?” Soonyoung’s eyes flicker to a corner at the far end of the room. The radiator is decorated in a sky blue wallpaper, and there’s a yoga mat on the floor. There are chairs next to a desk filled with coloring pages, decorated with fairy lights. Filling three of the chairs are various stuffed animals, a tiger, a cat, and a panda, all dressed as doctors. It’s a child’s therapy corner. “You gotta be kidding me.” 

He raises a brow, and—is that a smile on his lips? “Then explain, why are you here?” 

“Because I think I really like you,” you confess, frustration melting away to reveal the uneasy upturn on your lips. You lied when Seungkwan asked if you would ever consider introducing Soonyoung to Nari. In a different world, you would’ve loved to take the time to take Nari to the museum and introduce Soonyoung there. They’d definitely bond over their love for tigers. “Seungkwan is my best friend, and helps me take care of Nari. I adopted her five years ago.” 

Something softens in Soonyoung’s eyes, and the air feels much more relaxed. But his dark brows remain knit together, and he looks at you with confused eyes. “Then if you like me so much, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

“Because kids can be deal breakers,” you admit, and the colorful classroom feels smaller as you hug yourself. “I just, wanted you to like me first.” 

It’s the primary reason why it’s taken you so long to date. Sure, there’d be a fling here and there, but nothing that feels as tangible as Soonyoung is. You’re not old enough to find a partner that wouldn’t blink at the sign of children, yet you’re still at that weird age threshold where a partner could immediately run for the hills at the mention of one. Nothing will top Nari, she’s number one in your heart, but the small selfish part wanted you to put the focus on yourself for just one night. 

“You don’t have to hide, I want every part of your life no matter how long we have,” he assures you gently, firmly without an ounce of regret. Soonyoung opens his arms, and you cry in relief when you get to collapse in the scent of his cologne. You tuck your head in the crook of his neck, slightly sweaty from whatever activities he needs to do with the kids, but you don’t mind. His voice is quiet, melting in your ears, “and I really like you too. I really like Nari as well, she’s a great kid.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” 

You two pull away, and he swipes a thumb under your eyes in case some tears manage to escape. “So, Friday? Movie?” 

“It’s a date.” 

“Where’s Nari?” the question is huffed against your breath as you’re pressed between your freshly washed bedspread and Soonyoung’s body. He takes care in making sure the zipper of your delicate dress doesn’t get caught in the rush, easily slipping your dress off and throwing it on your desk chair. 

“At Seungkwan’s, why?” 

His cheshire cat eyes glow under the moonlight, positively devious. “It’s date seven,” he announces sweetly. His gaze betrays his saccarine reply, a look that only tells you that Soonyoung plans to fuck you five ways to Sunday, and you’ll gladly let him. 

You sit up on your elbows, enjoying the show as Soonyoung quickly sheds his clothing. It’s ungraceful, exciting. Tonight was a simple carnival date, easily making you feel like a giddy college student all over again. Soonyoung won you five Pokemon keychains today, you could put a whole party on your hand. 

“It’s actually date six,” you tease, tilting your head as his pants finally come off, revealing black boxer briefs that snug deliciously around the waist. 

“Oh, okay,” he looks at you like you’ve spoken God’s word, reaching to pick up his shirt, “so you don’t want my dick fucking you raw tonight? Okay, I see how it is,” he pretends to put on his clothing, jabbing a thumb out the door. 

You have the audacity to giggle, pulling him over by the waistband, “Come here so I can make an exception.”

You don’t know what it is that makes you want you want to give everything to this man. Heck, five years ago you didn’t even want a man as an excuse to have kids. But as he nudges you in all the right places and places you on top of him, you know this man will treat you like an absolute treasure. Every kiss is laced with smiles and sweetness, filled with vigor and vivacity that fills you up and leaves you afloat. 

He takes care of you first, unwilling to let you budge as he places your core over his face. He makes quick, but effective use of his tongue and fingers, making sure you’re nice and sensitive for his future plans. You’re practically throbbing with pleasure, vibrating from every cell of your body. Within minutes he’s glistening in your arousal, and he pulls you down so you’re lined up with his crotch. It’s involuntary when you pulse against his member, your body shamefully alerting you that it’s desperate with need, and the remedy is right under you. 

Soonyoung looks more satisfied than you, eager to please you. Without warning, he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, “You pretty, pretty girl,” you are keen at the attention, your body is glowing a radiant rose. 

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, sticky and tasting of your arousal. Tilting your hips up you let Soonyoung pull his member out, lining it against your entrance. Feeling the soft tip brush against your delicate folds, you moan against his mouth. With a little ‘pop’ he releases you, lips shiny and parted. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of hit-it-n’quit-it kind of guy,” he noses the sensitive spot of your jawline, which distracts you momentarily when the plush tip nudges your folds, coaxing you to unite. “Because after tonight, I’m definitely keeping you. Forever.” 

The reply that dances on your tongue is overtaken by your whines when Soonyoung slips in fully, forcing your body to clench tightly against his. You take him, all of him. You feel wet and sticky and hot and swollen with affection as Soonyoung praises you for taking him so well. His pace is firm and passionate, short nails digging deliciously into your hips for leverage as he makes sure to fill you to the brim. 

He’s right, tonight is far from being a means to an end. You feel like you can have nights like this the rest of your life. And when the both of you finish and you’re pulling the covers over one another, you finally manage to grasp the reply that was nearly forgotten. 

Pressing a kiss to his jaw you whisper, “I’m keeping you, too.” 

“So, how long can we keep this a secret for?”

“Ideally? Ten months. Realistically, I’d say Christmas.” 

“Why Christmas?” 

“Because I know you’re going to be dying to get Nari a Christmas present.” 

Soonyoung props his elbow on the pillow, looking at you petulantly. “I could say it’s a good behavior reward. She’s been racking up those gold stars during morning meetings, babe. She’s not even trying.” 

“That’s my girl,” you coo, rolling over to lean your head on his chest. Light has long flooded into your apartment, seeping through your curtains and reflecting on your white duvet. Soonyoung looks absolutely fluffy and well rested, and you can’t help but reach to pat down the ebony bird’s nest atop his head. 

The two of you lay like that for a little bit, playing with each other’s cold feet under the covers and relishing under the touch of bare skin to bare skin. You remind yourself that you need to take Joshua out to dinner one of these days, as he managed the inevitable and set you up with  an amazing partner. 

“Breakfast?” Soonyoung pops the question easily, “let’s get steak.”

“Steak isn’t eaten for breakfast.” 

“Then can I eat you for breakfast?” 

You snort, hiding under the covers while Soonyoung attempts to tickle you. The whole act in itself feels wholly innocent despite the fact that you’re both naked and smell like sweat and sex. Just as you feel Soonyoung’s head dip under the covers to meet you at your chest, the door swings open. 

“Mama!” 

The previously warm room feels like wickedly sharp ice, freezing you to your spot as you clutch the covers closer to your chest. “Baby!” you cry exasperatedly, flinching when she throws all her weight on you. She’s still in her ladybug pajamas from last night, hair falling out of her braid. 

She lifts her head from your breast to give you an adorable one-toothed grin. You try your best to maintain eye-contact, but Nari has impeccable vision. Her grin evolves into a full-on beam when she finds your bed partner.

“Mr. Kwon!” she’s squealing, clamoring over your lap. You do a double-take when you see Soonyoung sitting next to you, wearing a t-shirt. Where on earth did he get that?

Soonyoung’s eyes reduce to crescents at his (secretly) favorite student. “Good morning, Nari-ah. Had a fun time at your Uncle’s house?” 

“Nari,” you force your daughter down to stand on the hardwood, giving her a stern look, “give Mr. Kwon some space, it’s really early and it’s the weekend.” 

Knitting her brows together, she looks between the two of you, “But you two don’t have any space.” 

You wince at her perception, and nudge yourself away so you’re pressed against your nightstand. The oakwood corner digs painfully into your back. 

“We were haviång a very special parent meeting,” you fight the urge to cry when Soonyoung turns on his teacher's voice, sending your daughter a very convincing smile. You watch as your daughter’s eyes go wide, probably feeling very special that her teacher came all the way to her house to have a meeting. “You’ve been doing so well during the read-alouds that I had to tell your mama in person!” 

“I told you mama!” Nari juts out her chest, and you lean over to kiss the crown of her head. “But Mr. Kwon, why are you having it in mama’s room?” 

“Her room is the warmest!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing, his and Nari’s eyes widening simultaneously as he gestures to the open window. “The sun travels directly into your bedroom in the morning, and those rays send heat—”

“Mr. Kwon,” your voice is as steady as it can be, and  you frown when Soonyoung wiggles his brows. You already know he’s thinking of three separate ways you can use the term Mr. Kwon in private, but you’re not having any of that, “shouldn’t we uh, wrap up this… meeting?” 

“I wanna stay,” Nari glowers, obviously nosy as to what you two are talking about.

“I know baby. We just gotta finish up the meeting, okay? Can you—” you cut  yourself off when Seungkwan finally decides to make his appearance, eyes wide at commotion he’s created. He’s in matching pajamas, ridiculously red as he bends down to scoop up Nari. Absolutely sweating and as red as his clothes, his eyes dart between the two of you. You could care less that Seungkwan’s eyes have bags under their bags, and was probably too tired to catch her when she ran inside the house. No, Seungkwan doesn’t deserve the title of godfather anymore. 

“Nari! You can’t interrupt teacher meetings,” Seungkwan pretends to scold, and Nari turns her head so she can hide in her Uncle’s shoulder. 

Knowing that Nari can’t see a thing, you mouth a very explicit I will kill you to your best friend, and he immediately mouths an apology to the both of you as he ushers himself out the door. You wait ten seconds for your daughter to be out of ear shot, before dropping the blanket from your neck and throwing yourself against the pillows. 

But Soonyoung’s chuckling, pressing a litany of kisses all over your bare body in an attempt to comfort you. Instead of reveling in his lazy morning touch, you want to disappear between the sheets, never to be seen. What will the PTO moms say when they find out? How will you stop Nari from telling Jeonghan, and therefore Jeonghan telling the entire kindergarten population? Why isn’t Soonyoung freaking out about this? Instead, he favors to taste your body, in between kisses muttering something about it being kismet that Nari so happened to see right as you were discussing the secrecy of your relationship. Ten years from now, your daughter will be horrified when she realizes that no, teachers don’t normally give housecalls in your mother’s bed.

Your boyfriend pinches your thigh, regarding you with mirth in his eyes. 

“So, that means I can buy her a Christmas present now, right?” 

[insufferablelust]

i have had this in my head for days now and i need to tell you about it lol so a lot of fics on here have the concept of being a brat and a bad girl and I love those but it got me thinking about spencer being with someone whos s u c h a good girl for him like the most obedient little girl who never breaks the rules no matter what he says or does and he absolutely loves it and he asks her why she never breaks the rules and whatever her submissive reply is makes him go FERAL

wow you’re a genius, i’m actually loving this piece so much because this is screaming me, i’m super subby it’s unbelievable🥺 anyways, i hope you enjoy love! thank you so much for the req and support, love you. xx MASTERLIST.

WARNINGS : Soft!Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, lots of praising so praise kink, soft cute dom and sub dynamic, oral (f receiving), bit of rough sex but its cute still, and pure submissive and dominant dynamics meaning it might seem like the sub is way too subby but in reality they hold the same amount of control, its just how the dynamics go. :) oh and fluff!

There’s something about Spencer Reid that always amazes Y/N, the way he handle things, the way he talks, the way he thinks, the way he manages all the things inside his head. He was rather complicated, but the mesmerizing kind that always caught her attention, the kind that stopped her from doing anything else but to listen and to cater his every need. He has her whipped for him like a puppy to it’s owner, but she loves it- she loves him, he’ll always her devotion— but so will she from him.

Y/N adores a lot of things, a lot of people— like Penelope Garcia and all her quirks, or David Rossi and all his wisdoms. But no one ever comes close to get the same amount of adoration and respect from her, as Spencer. The moment she joined the BAU, she knew that she had to give him her all, so she did. Now 2 years later, working in different divisions with him still in BAU and her in the human recourses division, their relationship remains strong, even stronger than ever.

Its rather challenging for them both to find the time together with him on case duties while she waited at their shared apartment considering that she spends more time on desk job rather than the field, but lately since he got his mandatory 30 day off, their time with each other becomes more and more interesting and sparked the utmost pleasure.

Of course he has lectures to teach, and papers to grade or sometimes on call cases to help, but that all means he’s mostly home with her. When they started the relationship, her intense adoration for him only sparked to greater level which is submission. When they started dating, she revealed that part of her instantly which ignited something inside the Doctor.

You see, Spencer was experienced but when they met, he never seen someone so devoted... so obedient... and so submissive to him like her. She’s the epitome of raw beauty not because she’s weak when she submit, it’s because she trusts him to take control but in order for him to take control, she’s also the one that holds the wheel— if she said the word, he’ll stop. Their dynamics are as harmonious as an instrumental piece. She submit to him in more ways than one— he owns her and most importantly he takes care of her like she takes care of him.

Y/N is not the one to misbehave, of course there are times when she wanted to be bratty, to break the rules he set for her, which was fairly simple; like she must tell him how she feels at all times (communication is key), no touching herself and no orgasms unless he’s there to give her the permission, and don’t disobey him. And she really wanted to be bratty, and tease him until his palm twitch and bend her over his lap, yet every time she was about to break one of his rules, the guilt settles in, and she thought,

You’re his, you’re his baby, his love, his bunny, his doll, his person, his home— he said so. What are you doing disobeying him? ungrateful brat.

The submissive in her just melt down its brattiness and pushed her deep to subspace, where all she wanted was to please him anyway possible, to be as good as she can be, to behave, to obey, and to serve. She’s willing to do anything to hear his sweet praises and to see the blissed proud expression featured on his face when she did something that pleased him. The euphoria from the praise seared her core, and sent her to heaven.

The atmosphere of this situation always have and always will be the most comfortable content thing in the world for her— and Spencer couldn’t agree more. Praising and taking care of his beautiful lady, seeing her so submissively devoted to him sent a venomous thrill to his bloodstream, and hearing her beg for him just makes him want to stay with her forever— and they planned to stay forever.

———

Y/N found herself pacing around the bedroom as she pouted cutely at the flashing thoughts of their late night rendezvous last night, she could still feel the burning sensation on her inner thigh, the way he whispered on her ear, the way his palm collided with her skin several times, the way his teeth graze on the skin of her breasts— claiming her for the 100th times, the way he fills her up to the brim that rendered her into a pathetic panting mess at the end.

Saying that she’s soaked through her panties surely is the statement of the year, because god she was soaked— dripping at the thought of his sinful immaculate fingers, how does one get excited and aroused by their dom’s fingers?!Certainly Y/N. He was currently inside his study, grading and preparing for his next lecture which is tomorrow, they spent their morning together with over-sugared coffees and pancakes before he went to do his professor things and Y/N went upstairs to.. apparently think about getting fucked by her dominant genius boyfriend.

She was contemplating to just hump the sheets or using the shower head for less evidence, or just touch herself then and there— he won’t know right? he’s busy downstairs, when the doctor is busy, he won’t come here. So here she was, walking slowly to the master bathroom, as she chew on her bottom lip. The closer she got to where she needed to be, the greater her guilt arisen.

“He took such a good care of you last night, he gives you multiple orgasms, give you the privilege of having him inside your mouth and princess part— now you want to disobey him? disobey the man you love?”

She whined at herself before pulling the bathroom door harshly to close it— maybe a bit too harsh because one minute later, Spencer ran to where she was at the front of their bathroom, eyes brimming with tears and lips in a constant pout.

“Hey Baby, come here.. what happened? are you hurt hm? let me see your eyes, dove.” His voice made her whined ever louder and sunk her head even deeper as she fluttered her eyes shut, ashamed that she was even considering to disobey him. “Baby please look at me..” Spencer tried, pulling her close to his chest and rubbed her back.

He knew the look, she’s deep inside her space, what’s gotten him so confused was that they didn’t do anything this morning, she only gets like this after they have a rough session or when she feels— ah.. His mind clicking on its own, and its his job to make sure she crack her shell.

“Y/N, look at me.” Y/N’s eyes snapped open at the authority behind the tone of his voice, causing her to squirm against his front and then she looked up at him, even though she’s not ready to face his disappointment laced on Spencer’s face. Yet when she did look, she found no disappointment but rather a gentle smile and a sigh,

“There you go, Missed your pretty eyes my love.” He mused wiping the tears off of her cheeks before carrying her bridal style to their bedroom and sit down on the edge of the bed. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so upset that you fell under deep like this, princess?” His voice is gentle, laced with adoration and hint of worry which made her swear he’s an angel.

“I-I..” Her lips trembled as she looked up at him, it’s then that he realized just how deep she’s under— her eyes focuses solely on him and the only think that crosses her eyes is him- just Spencer, Spencer, and Spencer.

“Shh, i’m not mad, i’m not disappointed, now let me know what has gotten you like this angel?” His velvet voice sent chills yet the calming kind onto your guts and you sighed, crawls up to his lap and hide your face in his neck, before mumbling cutely,

“I was um thinking about last night... and i just.. Spence i was about to use the um shower head but i didn’t! i stopped myself cause i won’t ever disobey you sir! i promise!” The way she talked made his heart bursts inside his chest, god he’s so whipped for her and she’s clueless sometimes.

So Spencer leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her lips, closing his eyes and transferring all his adoration towards her onto the kiss that surely has her needy by now.

Her lips moved in sync with his, both’s raw emotions could be seen on the kiss, they projected each other’s desires and wrapped it up with a gentle smile. He pulled back a little, caressing her flushed cheeks before muttering, “Baby—“

“So you’re not mad?” She beats him to it, batting her eyes innocently at him, the sight made him weak on his knees, that all he wanted was to worship her in every way he could.

“No, no i’m not mad petal. You’ve done nothing but pleasing me and making me happy.” He could see the way her eyes gleamed at that, the way her lips smiles so big, and the way she held onto him so tightly like an adorable koala, He muttered a low “Fuck me.” under his breath but of course she heard, every one of her senses were sensitive in times like this so of course she heard.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“No no baby, i said it because fuck.. how are you so perfect hm?” Spencer leaned to brush their noses together before trailing kisses from Y/N’s flushed cheeks to her ear where he whispered, “You’ve never broken any of my rules, always obeying me like a good girl, the perfect little love for me... how hm?”

Y/N was visibly shivering at the praise, a whine was stuck inside her throat, as she breathed heavily at the feeling of him biting softly on the skin below her ear causing her to gasp. “Ah!”

“Answer me, dove.” He groaned before making yet another mark, he could feel the way she squirmed that it sent a huge amount of pleasure toward his sweats covered cock.

“Sorry! i just.. just.. I wanna be good, i will always be good for you because you take care of me but most importantly.. you own me sir, i’m yours, body and soul. You can do anything, tell me anything, and just— i’m yours.” Oh to see her was one thing but to hear her high pitched voice spewing out those words awoken something inside of him, The absolute Feral need to claim her again and again. Cause she’s so damn precious and fucking his.

When she didn’t hear a respond from Spencer, she was about to pull away for a second to see if she has made any mistakes, but got cut off quickly when he flipped them over, pinned both of her wrist against the headboard. “Don’t move.” He whispered sternly, and she nodded, all the blood is rushing to her every sensitive nub.

“You’re fucking mine, just me, i will get you a collar, something that will show everyone that you’re mine.” His voice was rough, deep, and dripping with authority as he rip her flimsy nightgown open, trailing marks all over her smooth skin. He was worshipping her, owning her, making her his again and again.

“I’m yours— oh!” Y/N let out a yelp at the feeling of his lips enclosing on one of her nipples, gently rolling his fingers on the unoccupied one, before switching from time to time— making Y/N moaned every time he tugged too hard, suck too long, or licking way too fast. Her whole chest was on fire, overly stimulated yet couldn’t- and wouldn’t stop it.

“That’s right, you’re mine.” His growls were animalistic, as he trail his kisses down from her sternum down to her tummy, lips never missing an inch of its trail without marks. Y/N was positively buzzing with oversensitivity and pleasure, god she could just cum like this.

“My good girl, my best girl.” His praises has her closing her legs which Spencer quickly denied by spreading her thigh as wide as possible and lay on his tummy in between them.

“Sir.. please..” She kept pleading, eyes soaked with tears, panties soaked with arousal, and lips bitten red and raw. Totally a damn sight. “What do you want?” He demanded, he was the one pulling the strings whilst she laid there taking everything he’s going to give her. She wanted to say that she wants her to make her cum, but her submissiveness muttered something else,

“Whatever you want, whatever you think i deserve, whatever you choose for me.” Although her response were shaky, the message was clear enough for him to suddenly yanked her panties down and buried his face on her sweet sweet peach. Licking, and exploring every inch of her burning core as she squirms like a kitten. Spencer Hummed against her sensitive numb at the sound that she was making, lapping every drop of her sweet nectar, and suck on her pearl like there’s no tomorrow.

“Sir! Oh so good! thank you..” She was getting close, he could feel how her walls contracted around his wandering tongue, and her toes curling as her back arched. “Ask for permission like a good girl i know you are.” His voice against her cunt sent right to the edge.

“Please! please may i cum sir?” She was sobbing at this point, positively burning with pleasure and the adrenaline of being his. It was like there’s molten lava that swallow them both to a new world where the only people exists were Y/N Y/l/N and Spencer Reid.

“Cum, now.” He ordered, and she obeyed, instantly. Releasing onto his tongue which he happily lap every bit of it until she’s screaming due to overstimulation which he then pulled back, knowing just how sensitive his girl is at this point.

As he looked up at her, he could see how shivery she was, with a satisfied smile on her face and wrecked with his mark. “Thank you.. Spencer..” She drawled, nuzzling close to him before getting on her knees in the bed to straddle him shakily,

“Hey hey what are you doing?” Spencer grasp her trembling wrist stopping her from moving anymore. “Please let me ride you! please Spencer.” She does the thing with her eyes again, the one that Spencer would never ever dream of dishonoring her every requests.

“Baby, aren’t you tired?” His voice laced with worry as he thumb her lips, which made her instantly suckle on the thumb, and shakes her head. “Please sir! let me be your good girl, wanna show you how good i am.”

“Shh i know that you’re good baby, you don’t have to do that.” Y/N frowned as she suckle even harder on the thumb before releasing it and whined, “But i want to, doctor please!” even in her mushy state she could still think about one of Spencer’s biggest pet name.

“You should be glad, i love you this damn much pet.” He muttered yet still very pleased at the name. “Now come on, ride me, show me you can be good.” He doesn’t hold her, he just place his hand on his sides and watch her intently.

Y/N blushes under his intense gaze, as she took out his cock (finally) from his sweatpants, and god— his cock was so pretty, tip ruddy red, and the veiny skin was hard, her mouth watered at the empty filling inside her mouth— wanting so bad to feel the heaviness warmth on her tongue. “Gonna eye my cock forever like an undeserving brat or are you actually going to be good hm?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts as she let out strings of apologies which he stopped with a sealing kiss.Y/N graze the tip of his cock against her opening as she took a deep breath before sinking down his length softly, his eyes never leaving his even when she moaned lewdly and shaking.

“You’re so good, warm and tight for me love.” He whispered, feeling immense pleasure being wrapped up inside her, he wished he could stay like this forever. “go on baby, bounce like a little bunny for me.”

And so she obeyed, placing her palm on his chest before bouncing slowly at first yet keep on picking its pace on his cock, their faces flushed, keeping eye contact as Spencer gripped her hips so hard before helping her bounce faster— making sure to hit her spongey spot each time.

“That’s it bunny, good girl.” He praised, earning a scream from her, her eyes rolled back and lips parted as she tightened her walls around his cock “Fuck Y/N..” His eyes shut now at the intense pleasure from the tightness of his girl’s walls.

He then pulled out for a second, flipped them over, before putting himself back in and then continue pounding her into the bed with a brutal pace yet its all so sweet and full of passion towards each other. “So good Spence! oh oh so full and deep!” Her pornographic moans send him over to the edge.

“Cum baby, now come with me.” He grunted against her lips before pulling her into an intoxicating kiss, and then both of them cum at almost the same time— they trigger each other’s pleasurable desires and needs like a soulmate would.

—————

“Shh good girl, I love you so much Y/N. You’re the best girl ever.” He wrapped his arm around hed after he cleaned them both with a damp towel, changing her into a pajama and then change himself.

“I love you.. Spencer...” She whispered, her eyes still swimming with the thought of him, she’s his.

“I need you to come back to me Y/N, come on.” Before they sleep he needs to coax her out of it, or else she would be sad and grumpy the next morning.

“I’m here!” She giggled as she stared at him, pressing onto his pouted lips and then eyes widen at the sad expression on his face that was one of the way to show her how she really needs to sleep now. The next minute she opened her eyes, he could feel the warm graze of hers and Her voice were small but its Y/N’s wonderful voice nonetheless.

“Spencer?”

“Hi Y/N, here with me?” Spencer intertwined their fingers together before pulling the covers up to their chest and then cuddled around her.

“Yeah.. yes baby..” Her voice droopy, Spencer then let out one more ‘i love you princess’ before she drift asleep, as well as him.

——————

Blurb requests and taglist are open so send me a message if you have ideas or want in!

[angstyaches]

Hey can you write a Sickfic where Rin is the sickie and Shayne is the care taker?

For non-Irish/non-Brits, or just whoever didn't know: tights = pantyhose. Londis = a small supermarket or convenience store type-place. Punts = money from before the Euro. Don't ask me "why all the cultural references?", because I don't know.

CW: emeto, food mention, food poisoning

_____

“You okay?”

"Mmhmm!"

“Really?”

Rin held back a groan and nodded, her forehead dragging on the car window it was currently pressed against. “Yep.”

“Okay, it’s just – this, this right here, Rin? Doesn’t look okay.”

She lifted her head, pushed her glasses up from where they’d slipped down her nose, and blinked rapidly. Shayne was a little blurry as she turned her head and looked at him. “I might be a bit nauseous.”

“No way,” he muttered.

“Damn it, I was fine ten minutes ago,” Rin whined, turning around to lean her back against the car door. She folded her arms tightly against her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. “What the hell’s wrong with me, Shayne?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, do I?” Shayne glanced around like a kid looking for a grown-up to come and help. The tiny car park they’d pulled into was attached to a deserted forecourt and a Londis that probably still had old Irish punts in its cash registers.

Rin sucked in a deep breath and let it back out slowly. It had started off as a mild headache that she'd been sure would pass, but suddenly her stomach was cramping so badly that she'd had to get the car off the road.

“You know, I bet it’s just period stuff,” she sighed. “My cycle reacts really badly to stress, and this month’s been… Well, it’s been a lot.”

“Could definitely be related to stress,” Shayne said, awkwardly eyeing her up and down. “Can I get you anything from the shop? Do you need water, or – or anything else...?”

Rin almost laughed despite the fact that her insides felt like they were being pinched and twisted by a giant pair of pliers. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you buy private things.”

“Fuck off, I wouldn’t care.”

“Thank you. But I don’t need anything like that,” Rin sighed, working up the energy for a quick smile. “Some water would be good though. Make sure it’s from the fridge and not the shelf.”

“Yes, madame.”

“Merci beaucoup,” Rin half-sang, half-whimpered as Shayne turned to head towards the shop.

She turned around to press her head against the car window again, groaning as her stomach churned. She lifted a hand towards it, dying for some kind of relief from the unbearable pressure inside. She wished she could have ripped her clothes off; despite the fact that the name should have given it away, her tights felt tight under the waistband of her skirt, oppressively so.

Usually, she would have at least glanced around the car park to make sure she was alone, but Rin honestly wouldn’t care if there was. She undid the metal clasp on the side of her skirt, instantly feeling the material loosen and shift around her waist. A sigh escaped, bubbling right from her diaphragm. Rin slid her hand inside the band of her tights, cradling her bloated belly and protecting it from the pull of the elastic. Her skin was hot and her stomach gurgled under her palm.

This was bad, she was starting to realise. Cramps alone, she could forgive, she could rationalise. But the clamminess, the bloating, and this level of nausea were new. She thought back over the morning so far, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. Charlie had cooked them eggs and bacon for breakfast before she and Shayne had left, but… That couldn’t be it, because if Shayne and his sensitive stomach were fine, then surely Rin would be –

“Oh, no,” Rin murmured to herself. Shayne hadn’t eaten the bacon and eggs. He’d only had toast. Which Rin and Charlie had originally thought was great, because it meant that there was more for the two of them.

As though summoned by its own memory, Rin burped and tasted her greasy, salty breakfast. Her belly rumbled, sending shivers of nausea in all directions and making her skin feel slick. She barely had a moment to let the thought flash through her mind before she needed to react;

It was coming up.

Rin stumbled towards the back of the car, gagging and holding her breath until she was facing the bushes. No way was she going to be hosing her own vomit off the tyres later that day. So instead, the barely-digested chunks of food decorated the waxy-looking leaves that lined the concrete. She heaved at least five more times before Shayne got back, and by then, she was in so much discomfort that she couldn’t help casting him a glare, resenting him for forgoing the food that was causing her so much misery.

“Hey,” he said stiffly, glancing at the bushes and then at Rin. He was holding a bottle of water in one hand, his phone in the other. “So, uh, Charlie called and he wanted to pass on a message."

“What?” Rin snapped, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“He's puking, too. He thinks something was wrong with whatever you guys ate for breakfast –”

“Oh, you think?” Rin exclaimed. She waved a hand towards the sick that was dripping from the branches.

Looking at it again made Rin need to double over again, retching despite her stomach almost being empty by now. She shivered, grimacing as she felt Shayne place an awkward hand on her back.

"Sorry."

“Not your fault, babe.”

“Mmm.” Shayne twisted the cap off the water bottle before handing it over.

Rin held it delicately against her cheek for a moment, eyelids fluttering shut at the pleasant temperature, before she allowed herself to take a few sips. The liquid was, in the end, a little too cold for its purpose, and she felt her stomach knot as soon as it landed there. She frowned and rested a hand on her belly, and jumped when she realised her skirt was still undone. It still sat high enough on her hips, but it still felt indecent for a public place.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, fumbling with one hand to try to pull the fabric together and hook it closed. “Sorry, it’s just that it got really tight –”

“Rin, stop, don’t worry about that,” Shayne told her, reaching out to take the uncapped water bottle she was trying not to spill.

Rin let out a nervous laugh, zipping up the front of her hoodie to conceal the fact that her clasp was open. She folded her arms around her waist again, eyes lowering to the ground as every system in her body fought the urge to bring back the nausea.

Shayne scratched his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” Rin gulped the bitter saliva that was gathering in her mouth. “Not good. Is Charlie okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I’m worried about you right now, I – fuck.” Shayne folded his arms, frowning with a muted sort of anger. “I’m so sorry I can’t be more helpful, Rin, I can’t – I can’t even offer to drive the rest of the way or anything.”

“Hey, that’s not your fault,” Rin assured him. She rested her shoulder against the back of the car. Vomiting seemed to have sapped her energy and left her feeling like a flimsy pile of spaghetti.

Shayne watched her, squeezing the bottle with one hand and pressing the other against his jaw like he was in mild pain. “I can – I can offer you a hug?”

She nodded miserably.

Rin raised her arms in a drained attempt to grab at the air like a baby until she was embraced. She almost cried at how gently he was able to put his arms around her, while also keeping her upright and taking most of her weight.

"Sorry you're so sick."

"Yeah," she sighed heavily, resigning herself to the pain that was well and truly established in her gut by now. She flinched as she felt Shayne's phone vibrate in his pocket. "You gonna get that?" she asked, thinking it was probably an update from Charlie.

"Mmhmm." Shayne didn't unwrap his arms from her. "In a minute."

[lahyene]

A Hollywood Love Story.

Pairing: young!chris evans x reader

Summary: Making it in Hollywood is hard, and when you run into the up and coming Chris Evans at a party, you can’t help but be a little intrigued by the frat boy vibes he practically emanates. You never knew you’d actually fall in love with him while both of you climb the ladder to the top.

Themes: romance, fluff, alcohol, smoking

Word count: 2208

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, your crop top barely covering your breasts and your shorts practically the size of underwear. As a girl must dress if she’s trying to make it big in Hollywood, being nothing but an Instagram model. Cigarette in your mouth, you take a drag and let the smoke blow out rather close to the face of the man who’s desperately trying to chat you up right now, but you couldn’t care less as your eyes wander the scene of this house party. You’re here to network, to find connections. If you can’t make this work, you’re going to have to move back home and that’s the last thing you want after being exposed to so much freedom.

You saw him the second you walked into this party. He hasn’t quite made it big yet, but he’s probably the most famous one here. Chris Evans. He’s appeared in a few movies, nothing blockbuster, though he’s very well known for his incredibly handsome features and well defined body. You’re sure the two of you have more in common than one would think, being seen more so for your appearance than your personality or talent. People assume you to be trashy and shallow, but they don’t realize that in this world, you have to come off that way in the beginning. No one’s going to wait around to get to know you or the level of depth you have. It’s all about your looks until you finally make it.

When you last saw him, he was on the couch with a girl on either side of him, taking turns making out with each. You’ve heard he’s quite the party boy, dabbling in drugs and alcohol, and practically drowning in female companionship. You thought he was dating Jessica Biel, but seeing his tongue shoved down this blonde’s throat as his hand snakes up the thigh of the brunette, you figure they’re not as committed or exclusive as they let on.

Quite honestly, you’re not interested in him in terms of networking. He isn’t going to do you any favors, he’s probably in a phase where he needs to look out for himself before anyone else. And you completely understand. It’s what Hollywood does to you-- makes you selfish, desperate, twisted. You know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but damn, is it a long tunnel.

You’ve barely even realized the male in front of you is still talking. You’re about to shut him down when you see Chris enter the kitchen, without his little playthings, surprisingly enough. The two of you make eye contact. You don’t even have to try; you can already tell he’s intrigued. You aren’t sure whether that’s flattering or concerning. He seems like he’d be intrigued by a hobo, as long as said hobo were to have a vagina. He walks over to you with a gait of confidence, corner of his lips already tugging upwards. He steps in right next to the man, his presence shutting him up.

“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name, beautiful?”

You take another drag as you listen to him, your expression barely changing. This time, you turn your head to blow the smoke out before looking to him again. “Y/N.” You tap the cigarette in the ashtray next to you, arching an eyebrow. “And you’re Chris, if I’m not mistaken? It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you already know who I am.” He states, and you’re almost amused by that arrogant twinkle in his eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Y/N.” The male standing next to him finally speaks up in annoyance, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with-”

“It’s not a conversation if only one person is talking.” You cut him off, disposing of the cigarette entirely before handing him your empty cup. “Make yourself useful and toss this out for me, would you?” He scoffs incredulously but takes it, grumbling as he walks away. Chris looks at you with a grin, clucking his tongue. “Damn, baby girl. Ice cold. Not that I can blame you, you looked bored as fuck sitting over here.”

“Were you watching me?” you ask innocently, your voice silky as you gaze up at him. His eyes are gorgeous, you have to give him that. His whole face is, really. As much as you’d love to say that he’s overrated, you can’t. He’s handsome, and he knows it. “A little bit, yeah.” He admits shamelessly, glancing back to the spot where he was sitting on the couch, the area slightly visible from where you are in the kitchen. “Those little kittens over there are great and all, but… I dunno. Something about you is more appealing.” He looks back at you and smirks, continuing, “Probably the fact that everything about your beauty is natural.”

He’s right, but you imagine he probably says this to even the most Botox-ed of Hollywood women.

“Thank you.” You practically purr nonetheless with a small smirk. “Wanna step outside with me for a bit? It’s getting kind of hot in here.”

“Sure. Let me grab us a drink too. What do you want?”

“A beer’s fine, thanks.”

His eyes practically light up, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, yeah? Damn, I’ve never met a girl at one of these parties that drinks beer. Always complaining about how it’s going to make them fat or whatever.”

You shrugged nonchalantly as you slid down from the counter, tapping your lightly toned stomach. “Fast metabolism, I guess. Those fruity cocktails and shit have way too much sugar, I’d probably get less sick if I just drank rubbing alcohol. Beer’s good.”

He laughs and you can tell he’s already impressed. You feel strangely good about this. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll meet you out on the deck.”

____________________

It’s a whirlwind of a romance.

You never thought this would happen to you. You constantly hear about celebrities getting together after knowing each other for ten seconds, getting married after dating for eleven. You’d scoff at the thought. That’s infatuation, not love.

Now as you’re holding Chris’ hand as he uses his other one to shield you from the lights of the paparazzi cameras flashing in your face, you wonder how the hell you got here. Going on dates every week, spending the night at whomever’s place is closest- you’ve even Facetimed his parents a few times, for God’s sake, and you’ve only been dating for three months.

You haven’t told him you love him yet, nor has he told you. You’re not ready for that. He’s clearly still dripping in the residue from his playboy days, and you’ve simply always had a difficult time with… well, emotions.

It’s the main cause behind any arguments you two have. While he still has a very frat boy-esque mentality, he’s also very sensitive to feelings. He’s a romantic at heart; he’s like an open book, and he surprisingly has no problem being vulnerable. You, on the other hand, keep everything bottled up. It’s what you’re used to.

Still, you make it work. You’ve never been in a relationship that feels so serious. Even the arguments only furthermore make it seem real, like you've been dating for years rather than a few months.

The two of you finally approach the gate of the apartment complex, entering as you let out a little breath upon being free from the paparazzi’s clutches. “I don’t know how you deal with this everyday.” You shake your head, barely laughing. “It’s exhausting.” He chuckles and guides you inside, raising a brow. “Well, baby doll, it’s going to be your life pretty soon now that you’ve found yourself an agent- you know that, right?”

You can’t hold back your smile, even though you’ve been strictly telling yourself not to keep your hopes up. “I don’t have one yet, it’s just a meeting. I can’t get too excited!” He scoffs and suddenly grabs your waist, playfully tackling you down onto the couch as you squeal. “Well, I’m going to be excited for you then. C’mon baby, look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’ve been gaining more and more followers by the second. And the agency reached out to you first to set up a meeting, you didn’t even have to send your headshots in. You know how good of a sign that is?” He playfully starts tickling your sides and you practically shriek in laughter, squirming through your giggles. “Chris!!”

He finally stops and you exhale, breathless but smiling as you reach up and hold his face lightly. “You really think I’ll make it big one day? That I’ll eventually be walking that runway during Paris Fashion Week?”

“Hell yeah I do, cupcake.” He murmurs, leaning down to peck your lips, “And I’m going to be sitting front row at every single fucking show.” You smile, briefly shutting your eyes before opening them again as you trail your fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. “Oh, yeah? What if you forget all about me because you’ll be a big Hollywood star by then? What if you show up front row, sitting next to your girlfriend Megan Fox?” He blinks and laughs deeply, moving his mouth down to kiss at your neck. “Mm… I’d be watching you walk that runway and dump her right then and there to beg for you back, that’s what.” You hum softly in delight as he nibbles on your sensitive skin, his husky voice continuing, “But you know that’s not going to happen, right baby? I can’t imagine doing this whole Hollywood thing without you by my side. You support me so much, and I want to do the same for you. I just… have a really good feeling about this relationship.”

You lightly move his head to look up into his eyes, reading his expression. He looks nothing but genuine.

“Me too.” You whisper, caressing his cheek lightly with your thumb. “I think we’re both gonna make it big one day. And we’ll be doing it together.”

____________________  

“He was my first.” You laugh softly as you wipe at your eyes, looking up towards the ceiling of the lavish five star hotel room as if that will stop the tears from returning. “I was only eighteen when we met. Still new to LA, only had a few thousand followers on Instagram. God, why am I crying right now?”

Your friend Taylor hands you a tissue, shaking her head. “It’s okay to cry sometimes, you know. It’s good to have feelings.”

You scoff through the tears, taking the tissue and wiping at your wet eyes. “I just can’t believe everything we’ve gone through. Me becoming an international model, him becoming Captain freakin’ America, adopting a dog together, traveling the world together for his press conferences and my photoshoots, meeting each other’s families…” You sniff, finally letting a tear actually slide down your cheek. “Do you remember when I had to get an appendectomy? And I was so fucking freaked out about the surgery, I had never had one before- but he was there with me the entire time I was recovering. He even told the director of Gifted that he needed a few days off.”

“Yes, Y/N, we remember.” Jasmine sighs, handing you a glass of wine. “Drink up girly, you clearly need it tonight.” Candice raises an eyebrow, questioning, “Hasn’t she drank enough? I think that’s why the crying is happening…”

“And we even talked about having kids together. We just knew we’d make it, you know? That our relationship would last forever. It wasn’t delusional, we knew it.” You sniff, taking the wine nonetheless as you take a sip. “Oh my God, remember when I had that pregnancy scare? And it looked like I’d be having a baby, and I was so nervous to tell him, but when I did he was so fucking ecstatic. Guys, he was so happy. Literally jumping for joy. He told me he wanted nothing more than to have a baby with me, even though we hadn’t planned for one that early.”

“Well, thank God you weren’t actually pregnant,” Meng pipes up, a glass of wine in one hand as she goes to open your closet door with the other. “Because then shopping for this would have been a lot more difficult with a baby bump.” She pulls out the wedding dress, playfully moving it from side to side in front of her body. All the girls immediately laugh, cheering as they raise their glasses. “Hell, yeah! Our girl’s getting married to the love of her life tomorrow!”

You giggle through your tears. Your happy tears, to be exact.

“C’mon, Y/N, stop crying already!” Elsa laughs, shaking your shoulders lightly. “You’re acting like Chris dumped you!” You laugh too, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t help but be a little emotional, okay? God, this is his fault. I never used to be such a crybaby until I met him.” You lift up your glass for another toast as you smile widely. “To the best damn bridesmaids in the world. Thank you for dealing with my sensitive ass during this whole marriage process.”

“Anything for you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans!”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Nsfw headcanons for the Obey Me boys with a dom reader?

I’m so gonna regret this, but, as I had to do some...Educating (reading online ofc)...I hope this is actually okay and that I didn’t disappoint!

I will be using the “ Asmo Time “ (hope it’s not already taken or something) for any NSFW writing, I guess :D

Also, sorry for not actually writing for everyone, but rn I can’t really stand Belphegor, and I have a hard time coming up with something different for Beel, despite liking him a lot =/

So...Without further writing...

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

----

Lucifer

Normally, this guy wouldn’t, for the hell of it, let you dom, because obviously...He is THE Sadistic Dom Top!

But today is your birthday, your once in a lifetime opportunity, your lucky day to experience what’s it like to have Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, look up at you with lust and need in his eyes, squirming so much in hope of release and biting his lip to stop his moans and will to beg, because of his pride not to step so low, so much that he draws blood unintentionally.

You tie his hands apart on the bed post, blindfold him, take his pants off and unbutton his shirt, all while talking in such a firm yet alluring voice that he almost doesn’t recognise you.

His dick is up before you even get to touch his skin.

You kept a feather from his wings from some time ago, and now it’s the perfect opportunity to tease him.

You softly trace his neck, down to his chest, and to his abdomen, until you reach the line of his boxers, where you just let the trail just barely touch his, and you can see his body arching slightly as it followed the feather, and a soft growl erupts from his throat.

“What is it, darling~? Do you want me to touch you that badly? Why, then, you’ll just have to ask me oh so very nicely for it, don’t you think~? Do you deserve to be touched by me, I wonder?” you tease him SO much, because honestly, he deserves every little bit of it.

You trace his lips with your thumb, and then lift up his chin and make your lips barely brush his, as you say “You don’t get to cum unless I say so, okay, darling? Otherwise...There will be consequences.”

“You will have a lot to pay after this day is over, MC.” he threatens, but you slap his face, before you put your hand on his throat. “Did I allow you to speak, Lucifer? No? That’s what I thought. Now, now, how to punish you, I wonder...” you would giggle darkly as you get out his riding crop and start tracing his chest and abdomen, until you hit the inner side of his thigh, making him squirm and barely hold in a groan of pleasure, as blood started to come out of his lip.

You finally take off his boxers, letting his erection stand tall, and you straddle his waist, grinding yourself on it, letting your wetness drive him crazy, as you roam your hand up and down his body, occasionally touching his erogenous zones, biting his neck, choking him or making him suck on your fingers, and in the end it was all so much, that he came without realising, not able to hold in his moan anymore.

You merely hummed in amusement, wiping away the cum and tutting in disappointment as you take off his blindfold and look at him with a mock-upset look.

“What a naughty boy you’ve been...Disobeying your Mistress...Tsk tsk, guess you really need a great dose of discipline.” you put his dick inside you as you leaned in and started biting and tugging at his bottom lip, licking away all the blood, before sitting tall again, tracing your tongue over your lips with an amused face. “Your blood is really sweet, Lucifer.”

Your ride him dangerously slow, teasing him with more dirty and teasing words, until you’ve had enough and wanted to cum yourself, and you changed the pace, touching yourself, being on display, enjoying the torture that he can’t touch you.

This goes on for the rest of the right...Until midnight comes and your birthday is no more, and his smirk is so huge and evil, knowing that you’re really gonna regret (and enjoy) your little day of indulging in your fantasies.

---

Mammon

Mammon is already a switch very close to a Big Bottom Energy, so it’s really not all that difficult for you to take the reigns and dominate him, he will really enjoy it anyways.

He’s normally one for very soft and gentle love-making, not exactly into the whole inflicting pain thing, mostly wanting to having HIS MC close to him, feeling your body touching his and all that, but once in a while, he doesn’t mind letting you have your fun with him, whatever it is that you want.

Honestly, if you deprive him the possibility of touching you, he’s gonna be so whiny and pouty, so you better punish him so he will stop being such a baby.

Choke him, tie him up, talk filth to him, take his hands and suck on his fingers while straddling his waist and grinding on his erection through the fabric of his boxers, tease him while you guide his hands up and down your own body, you name it, he will do anything you want, especially if it pleases you.

But...Seeing you suck on his fingers with that expression of lust in your eyes, while you veeeery slowly rock your bottom part back and forth...

He’s gonna be SO loud, whining, panting, moaning your name, you think the whole Devildom will know that you’re the one that’s making him such a mess under you.

“Mammon, dear, you should be more quiet, or else the whole house is gonna hear you. We wouldn’t want Lucifer barging in...Or would you...~?...Oh, I should shut you up myself.” your devilish grin could put even Lucifer in his place.

You face sit him, letting him eat you out until you’ve reached your orgasm, all while guiding his hands where you wanted, and making him lick you clean, because he’s a real good boy.

“What a good boy, Mammon, I think you’ve earned a little prize for today. Do you want it, Mammon? Tell me what you want.” you grin as you tease him even more, making him whimper, his eyes glistering with tears from the teasing.

“P-Please let me cum, M-Mistress!” he’d moan as you already put his dick in you and started bouncing up and down, rewarding the both of you.

---

Leviathan

HUGE SUB ENERGY!!!

You’re his Mistress and he will obey your every need, every wish, anything, with no protest, except his burning face, poor dear.

He is okay with topping and bottoming, but now you want to tease him by only allowing him to do what you say, with no exception.

“Come on, Levi, take off my clothes.” , “Let me guide your hands, Levi. You need me for even that.” , “Be a good boy and make me cum. If you do, I may think of letting you too, today.”

Hearing you speak like that will get him so eager to be the good boy you keep praising him that he is.

Will finger you while licking and sucking at your clit, wanting to put off the best performance he can, doing all the filth that he’s seen in his hentais, wanting to hear more praise, and your moans and telling him to go on, the tugging on his hair...

He’s so into it that he almost forgets about how painful his erection actually is, especially covered by his boxers and pants.

After he makes you cum, you tell him to lay down and you take off his clothes, tie his hands to the bed post, putting your hand around his shaft and slowly pumping up and down, holding eye contact and enjoying every little moan, whimper, groan and twitch of his body.

When you start licking the tip, you can already feel the salty taste of precum - which each lick, each provocative smirk, graze of your teeth against his sensitive skin and veins, with each moan you let out, he’s so close...

But you don’t let him. 

You move away from him, leaving him a panting and begging mess, almost crying, saying how it’s not fair what you’re doing...But how could you not edge such a cute boy? Especially when he can’t touch himself?

So you take your phone and put on an episode of TSL, while you sit comfortably on his chest, not letting him watch it, only hear, and he’s so bratty, it’s adorable.

When you’ve had enough fun teasing him, you take off the restraints and tell him to get on top, in the “Glowing Triangle” position, which is basically teasing him that he’s in control, but you’re the one who controls the thrusts and speed of it.

And what better way to continue teasing him with touches down his spine, pinching nipples and leaving love bites all over his body than this one~?

---

Satan

It was during the Butler event, where he kept calling you Mistress and he made it a personal competition to be the best Butler from the 7 brothers, but even so, it was obvious he’d attend to your every need without a second thought.

You, however, decided to mess with him quite a lot, so while he brought you some tea and you took a sip from it, making sure it’s not too hot, you told him to kneel down in front of you, order to which he immediately submitted, and you poured the tea from your thigh down to your ankle, with a mock-gasp.

“Oh no, I spilled the tea, how awfully clumsy of me! Satan, would you be a dear and clean up this mess for me~?” you lean back in the seat of the armchair you were sitting in, and raised your leg up, leaning your head on your hand, looking down at him with a condescending expression.

“Certainly, My Lady. I live to serve My Lady, so My Mistress’  words are my command.” he replies with a smug smile, as he started kissing, licking and leaving soft love bites from your foot, all the way up to your inner thigh, which he put on his shoulder, and looked at you with an obviously fake expression

“What else would My Mistress want me to do for her?” he asked, definitely enjoying this as much as you did.

He’s a God at eating you our and driving you crazy, and he obviously enjoyed pleasuring you so much, now being the perfect opportunity to see you in all the perfect light, a dominating Goddess, the only one who could ever tell him what to do.

When you’re done with that, pull on his hair until he’s to your eye level, pin him down on the armchair and start leaving love bites, from his jawline, to his neck, down to the chest, abdomen, teasing him just as you get to his dick.

Give the tip of his erection a kiss, a lick, let it wet, and then blow on it, and watch the way Satan grits his teeth in desperation, feeling exposed and unable to take away this feeling of need.

“Have you been a good slave, Satan?” you ask, as he licks his lips in anticipation.

“Yes, Mistress, I would sure hope so.” he asks, doing his best not to break character, as he’d just want to grab you and fuck you on the spot, but his ego doesn’t let him.

Lucky him, you were more merciful today, and with a sly smirk on your face, you take him in so fast that his snaps his head back with a groan, and your fast pace is so torturous yet so good that he finds himself lost in another world, and his sweet release is the best he’s ever had.

---

Asmodeus

He doesn’t care if you’re a dom or a sub, a top or a bottom, he just wants to enjoy himself and you, so who cares? Have fun, girl, go all in, do all your fantasies, he’s the perfect man to experience them with!

Put him on a leash and tell him to be a little obedient slave, and he’s already a mess below you.

He’ll be so needy and would beg all the time for you to touch him and do what you want with him, to fuck him, to punish him, to make him forget his name and the world around him.

He’s not the Avatar of Lust after all, correct~?

“Aww, Asmo, look at you. You look so good with that collar around your neck, and you staying on your knees at my feet...I might actually think of having you wear that every day from now on, just so you don’t forget who you belong to.” you threaten with a sweet smile, as you grab his collar and pull him to your eye level.

You’d have had him on a chastity belt for just a few days, and now that you took it off, he was finally feeling better, so eager for you to touch and punish him in any way (as long as you don’t do anything to his precious face)

Whip him as much as you like, bring the riding crop, get the hitachi wand and edge him, leave bite marks all over his body, all while making sure he doesn’t touch you or himself, otherwise he’s gonna just suffer even more.

He’ll moan and scream out your name even louder than Mammon, he has literally no shame or inhibitions, he just wants to let himself get lost in pleasure and emotion, and knowing it’s you who’s doing everything to him...Even hotter.

Edge him as many times as you feel like, only letting him cum after he’s done as much begging as you want, and when he’s crying from the need for release, and after that, he’ll feel like on Cloud 9, so happy that he’s lost his mind.

Obviously, he’s going to return the favour some day, but for now, he loves being your slave and seeing you so full of confidence, enjoying yourself as you’re using him to feel pleasure.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I JUST GOT HOME FROM WORK AND SAW YOUR POST SO I HOPE I SENT THIS IN IN TIME, BUT DADDY!CLYDE TRAINING HIS BABYGIRL TO LACTATE WITHOUT BEING PREGNANT (BECAUSE THAT IS 100% A CLYDE KINK) AND BEING SO PROUD OF HER WHEN SHE FINALLY STARTS PRODUCING AND HE CANT STOP SUCKING ON HER TITS. OKAY LOVE YOU BYEEE!!❤️❤️

@clydesfavoritegirl SO, I HAVE BEEN WRACKING MY BRAIN ABOUT THIS AND I HAVE A WIERD THOT ABOUT IT. 

So, little fun facts about Sara, I have had a baby (she’s five now), I breastfed for about a year (very hard to keep up), and I have also donated my eggs for other people to have babies in the future. All of this mentioned above is not easy to accomplish and requires patience and willpower to do. 

Any way you have a child is valid no matter which avenue you are given in life. If you want kids by all means have them, if you don’t that’s totally and completely fine. If you want to use formula to feed them, do it queen all the power to you, the same goes for breastfeeding. Adoption is just as important as shooting baby out yourself and surrogates are true angels in my eyes. I had not considered this lactation thing until I did research on it, because I really wanted to know if it was possible to accomplish, and it is. 

Upon my research I saw that it takes months and months of hormone therapy to produce milk without being pregnant and even then, doctors prescribe it for couples adopting and or trying surrogacy for new babies coming into the family. SO, that being said, I can twist this into maybe Clyde and yourself looking at adopting or using a surrogate for a child, and you want to try to breastfeed them because you want to bond with your new baby. And of course Clyde is ALL about it because anything that makes you happy and comfortable!

PLEASE INDULGE MY THOTS ON OUR SOUTHERN BELL CLYDE AND HIS INEVITABLE LACTATION KINK.... 

**I’m gonna put warnings on here because it mentions some heavy stuff (plz don’t read if you are triggered by any of this): Infertility, hormone therapy, angst, depression, adoption, and surrogacy**

“Baby girl?” Clyde calls from the living room, his nose deep in the baby books you both had purchased over the months of trying to start your big happy family, fumbling though his phone at the same time.

“What’s goin’ on big bear?” you chime, busy fixing yourself up in the mirror after a relaxing shower to wash the sex from your skin after a session with big daddy. 

Adjusting you hair, wincing as you lifted your arms, “Jesus,” groaning out, feeling the soreness from your heaving breasts as they felt like concrete on your chest. 

_______________

Ever since you'd begun the injections and pills, your body was hating life. The raging hormone cocktails running through your bloodstream causing every single emotion to emit from your body at once. 

You’d be happy and cheery one second, followed by crying in your shared bed under the sheets in the fetal position, and finally raging about the fact that the TV was turned too damn loud in the other room, when it all actuality it was the same level you’d always kept it at. 

No matter the tears and agony, Clyde and yourself took all of this one day at a time, just as you had when you found out that children may not be a possibility when it came to the old fashion way of doin’ it. The pain was so hard to bear that day. You cried and cried, locking yourself away from the world as you cursed whomever was in charge of your fate, feeling like less of a woman the more the days droned on. 

It took a few months for you to smile again, Clyde painstakingly trying to solve your problems with everything under the sun, reading books, catering to your needs, holding you when you sobbed yourself to sleep over your vacancy. 

Cradling you when you felt like less of a person for not being able to accomplish one simple thing you’d both hoped for in the future. He’d hush your tears away, forcing you into him as he felt you shudder during the night, silent tears falling from his face as he prayed for some kind of sign or solution to all of this. 

Then it all fell into place one day. Clyde was working his ass off during the nights, leaving you to stew about things at home, which inevitably led you to the internet. 

You looked up all kinds of solutions, message boards talking about infertility, therapies, injections, adoption, and surrogacy. All of them possible in your eyes if it played out like it had for the folks at the various agencies you’d looked up. Finally, a glimmer of hope in this shit-storm of uncertainty, as you glanced over the testimonials and pictures of various families, so happy with their children healthy and happy. 

“This is it,” you had muttered under your breath, a flutter from deep in your stomach causing tears to well up in your eyes as you thought about Clyde and you taking home a sweet new addition. 

You’d brought it up to him immediately upon entering the house at and ungodly hour, to which you were scolded by your big bear after you’d made your sales pitch to him. 

“I think it sounds perfect baby girl,” he cooed as you both laid in bed that night, caressing your sweat sheened skin after a good punishing from his cock, “if ya want ta do it, m’ happy with anything ya want,” whispering as he felt you sink into him to relax for the first time in months. 

“I jus’ wanna make ya happy to big bear,” kissing his thick chest as you inhaled his musk, “I think this is the way we can have that family we want,” ghosting your lips up his sternum as he sighed into your touch. 

“Mhmm,” he embraced you further, “I’ll adopt as many babies as ya want honey. Yer jus’ gonna be the best momma regardless,” hearing your light cries in the quiet of the darkened bedroom. 

“T-thank you big bear,” you strained out, still hiding in his neck as the tears spilled, “I can’t wait ta make ya a real daddy finally,” gripping the back of his neck as you fell into another chorus of cries. 

_____________

“What’s up?” your v-neck t-shirt straining on your heaving tits, the bra you’d picked certainly not fitting you as the days went on and on. 

“I think I found the pump ya were wantin’,” he gulped, seeing the peaches poking through your top half as you bent forward to look at the contraption he’d found. 

“Oh ya!” you jumped slightly, your tits bouncing in a ripple at your excitement, causing Clyde to salivate at the sight. 

“Thank ya big bear!” jumping into his lap as you pulled him to you, kissing his cheeks as he buried his face in your pillows, running his thick hands over your sweatpants. 

“A-anythin’ fer ma baby girl,” he panted, burying his prominent nose deeper into your rock hard tits, “Gah damn yer so juicy darlin’,” lifting his head to place pecks all over the tops of them. 

“Ya like ma milky titties baby?” biting your lip as he started sucking a mark over the soft skin, “ya wanna taste a mama’s milk?” cooing in his ear as he moaned into his make out session with your chest, rubbing his head to press it further in the valley of them. 

“Ya think they’re finally full baby girl?” he glanced up, his eyes glimmering with love and lust in the same gaze. You pet his precious face, the hopeful look only making this more special as he’d been helping you with your injections since you’d gotten the go ahead from the doctor and the agency. 

“I think so daddy,” feeling them tense up at your words, the soreness pulsing all the way to both nipples as you tried to avoid making faces in front of him. He helped you remove your fresh top, exposing your lacy bra, the skin popping out with colored veins, gravid from the fullness of them. 

“Fuck me,” he drooled, reaching behind to undo the clasp, eyes widening even further when he saw them perked up out of their hiding spot. The nipples taut and ready for his lips to suck on at his leisure. 

“Ya look so damn perty baby girl,” raising his hand to grip the skin, feeling how heavy they were on your chest, “ya want daddy ta see if they’re ready ta go?” practically begging as he ran a thumb over the sensitive nipple. 

You reared your head back at the slight touches he made, “please daddy,” whining as he watched you fall apart from his motions, “suck on my tits big bear,” shoving your chest closer to his waiting mouth as he inhaled deep, a growl brewing as he went to latch his pink lips on your areola. 

“Mother fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure releasing from your throat as he sealed himself on your tit, massaging the sore skin as he coaxed the sweet liquid to fall from it. 

He vacuum sealed his lips, sucking lightly at first, feeling you writhe and find the back of his to grip his mane, pushing him further into your warm skin. 

“O-oh g-god baby,” you moaned out, feeling a burning feeling build in your boob that felt both uncomfortable and welcoming as he sped up his jaw on your nipple. 

“Mhmmmm,” he whined out, feeling the body temperature liquid seep from your tit, coating the insides of his mouth in a warm embrace as he sucked more and more. 

Just then, you felt your other tit release a trickle of fluid, the stream of white beautiful in contrast to your skin as you glanced down in awe and pleasure. The cement block feeling escaping as Clyde sucked down your sweet nectar. 

“Oh f-fuck d-daddy,” you gasped, a mixture of elation leaving your body, “I-I’m l-leakin’,” you winced out, feeling Clyde let up on your boob, picking his head up to reveal a white sheen covering his lips and part of his mustache. 

“That ya are darlin’,” he eyes completely dilated as he looked over at your stream sliding down the underside of your neglected tit, making its way down your stomach in a perfect line, “yer doin’ such a good job baby girl.” 

Gripping the other tit in his large hand, coaxing the nipple into his mouth sucking your sweetness down in a frenzy. Your hand massaging the back of his head as you arched your back into his motions, feeling a huge relief as he emptied your other aching tit. 

He lifted his head in a gasp, wiping his mouth from the mess he’d made, watching as your sultry eyes bored into him. The both of you panting and elated at the hard work it had taken to accomplish this huge step. 

“Ya perfect, baby girl,” inching his lips to yours as you tasted your milk in his mouth, sighing into his tongue wrapping around yours. 

He pulled away for a moment, the noticeable bulge in his jeans ever present as he fulfilled his fantasies he’d had since he’d met you, “I don’t think m’ gonna be able ta keep up with these tits though as much as I’d like ta suck on ‘em fer every damn meal,” giggling as he lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking more marks on the skin as you mewled under him. 

“Don’t worry big bear,” you purred, gripping his hair again, arching yourself into his lips, “ya can help me when I get that pump we saw,” feeling him smirk under your neck at the prospect of him watching that show. 

“But fer now,” you lifted him by the ears to gaze into his precious eyes, “I think mama needs ta take care a daddy,” gesturing to his now tented erection. 

“Please mama,” he begged, watching you get up from your spot to curl and index finger as you backed into your bedroom again for round two. 

___________

God I hope I did this ask alright for you honey! Thank you for sending it in so I could learn something from it, as well as indulge in this juicy Clyde thot!

oneshot taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @bpdbensoloblog, @hopeamarsu, @caillea

🖤,

ray-nal-beads 

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion Chapter 9

{masterlist}

Words: 3653

Notes: Notes: Sorry this took so damn long, I got hung up on writing a particular oneshot that is still kicking my ass. Also, I watched Jojo Rabbit and...I was getting Reader and Wild vibes from Rosie and Jojo’s dynamics. Let’s hope I can keep my melodramatic monkey brain in check so I don’t permanently scar both myself and all of you. 

Warnings: Angst time bby get your tissues because I hurt myself writing this, family dynamics are tricky and often problematic especially when one part of said family is clinically insane. PSA: Don’t do this to kids. 

In all seriousness, there is some seriously fucked up shit that happens near the end of this installment that, while not abusive in and of itself, may act as a trigger for those who have suffered from abuse or are currently in an abusive situation. I am not condoning this behavior and I am very aware of the nature of what I have written. I repeat, I do not condone this behavior and I promise it will be resolved. 

Taglist: @and-claudia // @tararuthven // @aberionart // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol // @zabrak-show // @obi-wan-kanbonemi 

<- Previous

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The grip you had on the back of the pilot’s chair was almost alarmingly tight as wave after wave of nausea assaulted your stomach. And your already unpleasant feelings were amplified by the guilty look plastered over Wild’s face as he stood at your side with your other hand in a death grip. You didn’t blame him for the turbulence the three (technically four) of you had encountered upon entering Dathomir’s atmosphere but it was hard to reassure him. In a cruelly ironic twist, your inability to stomach landings and takeoffs was his fault-the effect of having a hybrid child, you supposed. For now, you could just pull him into your side with an arm wrapped around his shoulders as Savage guided the ship. 

The turbulence had also disturbed Maul who had chosen to express his discontent in ear-piercing wails. For as much as you loved Maul, you were eager to have him capable of articulating his feelings again if only to make him stop screaming. It seemed that Savage felt much the same way, “Patience, brother.” The yellow zabrak muttered quietly, “We’re almost home.” 

You closed your eyes as Savage brought the ship lower and lower, not wanting to see the rust-colored ground that was rapidly approaching. Wild pressed further into your side, his small arms wrapping below your ribs in silent sympathy and you squeezed his shoulder back- a completely wordless conversation. The ship jostled slightly as it landed on the soil of Savage’s home planet. You had to quickly clasp the hand previously on Wild’s shoulder over your mouth to keep the bile from rising. Savage, not taking note of your current crisis, stood from the pilot’s chair to stalk towards the cargo bay. “Should we go with him?” Wild peeped from your side after you regained some control over your stomach. With a shaky nod, you turned around to follow Savage with Wild in tow, stuck to your side like glue. Savage was barely past the threshold before he stopped to observe his deranged brother who was crouched amongst the crates, clawing at the air wildly like he did when you and Savage first found him. 

“Brother,” Savage spoke first to which the only reply was ‘Kenobi’ muttered over and over again. “Brother, we have to go.” 

Once again, “Kenobi.” and the creaking of crates as Maul moved them using the force to form a barrier between himself and the three of you. You sighed, already able to guess what your next task would be at the same time Savage rolled his eyes. 

“Fine.” Savage scoffed with an eye roll, “Stay here.” Briefly closing his eyes with a shake of his horned head, Savage turned his attention to you and Wild. “I’ll speak with Mother Talzin if you two work on that-” The yellow zabrak gestured to the wall of crates Maul had formed prompting you to nod in resignation. Savage clasped a hand on both of your shoulders, stooping down rather awkwardly to do so, before opening the bay-ramp and stalking out of the ship. That left you two with Maul. 

“You up for some practice, Wild?” You grumbled as you could tell that you would have your work cut out for both of you. Wild didn’t answer as you scanned for an opening in the barricade. After another beat of quiet from your hybrid child, you spoke again and turned to where you had left the boy. “Wild?” But he had moved away, silently slipping towards the ramp to lean out of the ship. “Wild, what are you doing?” You called and trailed after him before stopping at his side to look out into the murky, red-choked planet. 

The young boy was quiet for a little longer as he stared out at his father’s home planet. “I didn’t think Dathomir would feel this...” He finally whispered. His grip tightened on the ramp frame as he leaned out just a little further. “It’s...I dunno, it feels weird.” His saffron eyes which still managed to glimmer in the low lighting flicked to the left and to the right like he was watching something that you couldn’t see. 

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lowered yourself to be eye level with Wild and gently placed a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. “Wild, what is it?” You asked softly, allowing your own force sensitivity to take over. 

“Mom, something’s different here I-I can’t pinpoint it.” He was right, something was different. The dark side was strong here and it felt like it was pouring into the ship to culminate around something-presumably Maul. Wild must be picking up on it. You knew he was familiar with what the dark side felt like when in the presence of someone who had aligned themselves with it-he had to be by now given he shared a ship with Savage and Darth Maul. It had to be that this was his first exposure to a planet that was aligned with the dark side. 

“Wild, that’s the dark side. Dathomir is strong in it-that’s where the witches get their magicks from, well sort of, at lea-” Wild cut you off, turning so sharply that you were knocked off balance. 

“No! It’s not that...it’s...it’s something much worse.” You were struck silent as Wild’s panicked gaze flickered over your features before glancing over at Maul. “We shouldn’t be here, mom.” He shook his head and backed into the ship, his gaze didn’t leave Maul who had gone quiet. “He shouldn’t be here.” You followed Wild’s stare as your brows began to furrow until your own eyes landed on Maul who was watching both of you like a loth-wolf. 

“Wild, what are you talking about?” Your voice shook despite your efforts to keep it steady. 

“I don’t know.” Wild’s tone was strained, fragile, and fearful. Your son was terrified of something and that just made your distress grow. “I don’t know what I’m sensing but it isn’t good. It’s angry, it’s controlling, and it’s so possessive. Mom…” He turned to you then, latching his arms around your middle to bury his face against your stomach. “I’m scared.” Your heart shattered and you fought the sob that threatened to tear itself from your throat. Your hand flew to the back of your son’s head as you sank to your knees to wrap your other arm around the tiny red boy. He trembled as you held him, trying to will whatever was plaguing your son away. 

“My darling boy,...” You whispered and held your son tighter, “My precious son,...” Wild pressed his forehead to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, one of his tiny horns threatening to break the thin skin there. “Gift of all gifts, my baby, and sweetpea,” You ran through all of the names you’d ever given him in the softest voice you could muster, the one you would always use to soothe his numerous nightmares and cries that always robbed him of peaceful nights when he was much younger. “I promise, I won’t let anything hurt you.” You swore in a thin voice, carefully maneuvering to press a kiss to your son’s temple. He responded by curling into you further. “Not here, not out there, not on some distant backwater planet, either. You’re my son, my one constant and I will do anything in my power to protect you.” You placed another kiss on his temple, slowly rocking the two of you back and forth as your words began to seep past the young boy’s fog of fear. Eventually, Wild pulled away from you to sit back on his heels with a sniffle. 

“Thanks, mom. I-I’m sorry.” The little boy began in a tiny voice as he, rather roughly, scrubbed at the tear tracks clinging to his face. 

“Wild, starshine, you have nothing to apologize for.” You soothed gently as you wrapped your hand around his wrist to pull his hand away from his face so you could delicately wipe away the stubborn droplets of water. “You’re scared, it happens to us all. If you can still find the strength to face that fear, what harm do a few tears do?”  A small chuckle slipped from you as you recalled your own journey with crying and emotions in general, my how far you’ve come. 

Wild said nothing regarding the wisdom provided in favor of answering with a watery smile and shaky breath. It was still for a moment as your son went about collecting himself and you were more than happy to offer him the silence he clearly wanted. But, where you were willing, the only other person in the ship beside you two was not. Maul, who had previously been watching the exchange soundlessly, was poking his head out from between the crates surrounding him to peer curiously at your son.  

Wild sniffled once more and looked up at the unmistakable click-click of his strange spider legs against the durasteel of the cargo hold. The young boy was reacting before you could do anything. “What are you looking at?” Wild roared as he sprung to his feet, startling Maul who growled back and ducked back between the crates. 

You were baffled by your son’s reaction. Wild didn’t raise his voice often and in his eleven almost twelve years of life, you had never seen him yell at someone he didn’t know. Thankfully, you regained your composure quickly enough to lay a firm hand on Wild’s forearm. “Be gentle, Wild. He doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.” You rebuked, careful not to upset the carmine boy. He deflated just slightly. 

“That doesn’t give him a right to stare,” Wild muttered and turned away from you as you rose to your feet. 

“No,” you hummed contemplatively as you brushed some imaginary dust off your legs, “No, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he is in the wrong.” Wild sent you a deadpan look. “Maul…isn’t of sound mind so he’s lacking in decorum. We must act with patience and grace.” You reaffirmed before tiptoeing over to the crates and beginning to move them out of the way. 

“You make it sound so easy.” Wild muttered again, raising a hand to try and push one of the boxes using the force. It screeched against the durasteel as he scooted it, making the young half-zabrak cringe. 

An airy, nervous chuckle tittered past your lips before you could stop it. “Believe me, Wild, it wasn’t easy to learn.” You paused, two crates hovering just off the floor as you regarded your son. “I am not patient by nature.” 

“You’re not?” 

“Kriff no.” You snorted, making Wild grin. “But, for better or worse, your father helped me learn.” Your mind briefly flashed through every single argument you had ever had with Maul: from the petty to the severe. Each one, no matter how consequential felt like training for what was to come. Now, after you had raised the boy without his father and were now facing the possibility of getting the love of your life back, every fight felt like a test to build the patience you would desperately need later on in life. Especially now as you gazed down at the pitiful creature your love had become. “We both had to learn or else I don’t think we could’ve worked.” You mumbled under your breath, e/c eyes boring into the crazed gold and vermillion of the former sith lord before you. 

The air shifted much like your son as he adjusted his weight on his feet. “What...what do you mean?” He eventually asked in a small, tentative voice. 

You sobered up quickly and reached a hand out to Maul who latched onto the appendage, clasping it between both of his hands. “I often went months without seeing your father-our paths kept us separated for so long.” They’d kept you separated even after you left the order and he had been abandoned by his master. “It’s a miracle we stayed together.” You were separated even now. Maul lost to his madness and you tied to his son by an oath you swore the day he was born. “...he didn’t even know I was pregnant with you.” 

“What?” Wild breathed out in shock. You closed your eyes, begging for your mind to direct itself elsewhere. 

“Hey, wait for me!” 

“Anakin, stay where you are. You’ll be safe there.” Qui-Gon’s voice was firm, indicating he was not to be trifled with. And justly so, you were in the middle of a battle. Why they had let a nine-year-old stay with Qui-Gon was beyond you. The boy was just going to get in the way. Though, in all fairness, the council also let a pregnant woman go back to Naboo whilst dealing with a blockade that was apparently engineered by your husband’s master. Force, what a messed up time you were having. 

“But I-” Anakin, the little boy from Tatooine that was currently causing you to rethink your whole strategy for hiding your baby’s father’s identity, tried to protest. But one pointed index finger from Qui-Gon and his opposition died on his tongue. 

“Stay in that cockpit.” Qui-Gon ordered as you marched past the fighter the boy found himself ‘hidden’ in. You and Obi Wan shared a look that spoke volumes despite how standoff-ish your fellow padawan had been since that damned meeting that had prevented you from explaining your situation to your lover. You had, of course, immediately tried to contact Maul again and again and again to beg him to do something that would give you the chance to slip away and into his arms but every time you were interrupted. It would have been funny if not for the fact that all three of your lives would be jeopardized if anyone found out who had fathered your baby. The final time had been entirely Queen Amidala’s fault as she decided that it would be a grand old idea to go back to her home planet. The star-cherry on top? She had requested you to accompany her. However, you considered yourself clever. You could make this work for you if you played your cards right. You knew Maul was on Naboo, you could sense him-the dark side was unusually powerful on Naboo. The trick was slipping away from the two Jedi accompanying you to go find him. For now, you were stuck marching behind roughly two dozen Nubian pilots, the queen herself, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi Wan Kenobi. You would just have to be patient; wait for the perfect opportunity to slip from their grasps. Maybe you’d take a little tumble over the edge of a balcony or maybe you’d find yourself ‘cut down’ by one of those battle droids? Either way, you’d just have to wait till you could fly to your love...wherever he was on this infernal, though very beautiful, planet. 

“Yeah….” You sighed unsteadily as Maul toyed with your fingers. “I was...a little over three months pregnant when I last saw him again...on Naboo.” 

“Quickly, Y/n!” Obi Wan yelled over his shoulder as you both raced to catch up with Qui-Gon and the Sith, your Sith. They were rather evenly matched and you could see Maul’s strategy clear as day. If he could separate Obi Wan and Qui-Gon, he could easily take the latter down. The struggle for Maul was being able to land a finishing blow on one without the other moving in to intercept and continue the fight. You did what you could to stay out of Maul’s way while also trying not to make it look like you were running. If you ran and Maul...lost...that wouldn’t look too good for you. You could only blame your ‘slow reactions’ on your pregnancy brain for so long. 

To accomplish his plan, Maul was trying to draw Qui-Gon to the reactor shaft where he could use the ray shields to further divide Obi Wan, Qui-Gon, and you. And it worked for as soon as you and Obi Wan caught up, the ray shields went up too; cutting off you and your fellow padawan and Qui-Gon from Darth Maul...alright, admittedly that part probably wasn’t in his plan. You skidded to a halt and just barely managed to grab Obi Wan by the collar before the older padawan accidentally smacked into the ray shield. The four of you fell deathly quiet at the interruption-the only noise to be heard was the deceivingly gentle hum of the harmful shields and the thrum of the five lightsabers currently ignited. 

You jumped suddenly as Maul tapped the ray shield with the tip of his lightsaber as though he was trying to taunt Qui-Gon who was just on the other side and Obi Wan sent you a look, laying his free hand on your shoulder. A quiet thank you slipped from your mouth as you bowed your head to him and sheathed the heated blades of your dual lightsabers for a moment, Obi Wan following soon after when Maul did the same. 

Carefully, Qui-Gon took a seat on his side of the shield and promptly began to meditate which afforded you the opportunity to meet Maul’s gaze for the first time. He was indescribable. A deep, foreign fury clouded his eyes choking the shining gold with vermillion. His brow was furrowed, a sneer marred his face, and for the second time since your very first meeting, you could clearly see the hatred he held for the Jedi before him. At that moment, he wasn’t your husband. He was Darth Maul. A completely separate being from the zabrak you had come to know and love. You just hoped that he would return to you when the time came. 

“Naboo?” Wild asked, slowly approaching. You didn’t look away from Maul as he clung to your hand a little tighter. 

“Kenobi, Kenobi!” Maul suddenly started to growl and his nails began to dig into the back of your hand. “Far above, far above, we don’t know where we’ll fall!” The zabrak’s eyes stayed trained on your feet as he started to pull on your arm as if trying to climb up it. “Far above, far above, what once was great is rendered small!” He then proceeded to burst into tears. 

“What is he talking about?” Wild sighed in agitation and stepped up to stand right next to you. Maul’s crying ceased for a moment as he turned his head towards Wild. 

“Not a clue-ow!” You were cut off as Maul’s grip grew exponentially tighter. 

“Kenobi, Kenobi!” Maul pressed in a growl. 

With an exasperated sigh of your own you nodded and began trying to loosen the zabrak’s grip. “I know, Maul, I know. Kenobi. It’s his fault-will you let go?” The words hissed through your teeth before you were aware of them. 

“Wait, you know the ‘Kenobi’ he keeps talking about?” Wild snapped his attention to the side of your face as you continued to try and pry Maul’s hands off of your arm. 

“Yeah...he’s the padawan that went with me to Naboo and the reason Maul was...y’know, thought dead.” 

“As in...Obi Wan? You told me that he was the one that killed my dad...on Corellia during a riot that dad was trying to suppress.” You froze. Wild continued. “You told me that Corellia was the last place you saw him. Not Naboo.” 

“Corellia, Naboo. What difference does it make if he’s supposed to be dead?” You muttered under your breath. Your free hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose as the other flexed into a fist. 

“A lot!” Wild yelled and you jumped. Slowly, beyond startled by his outburst, you turned your attention away from Maul and to the little boy at your side. “It makes a lot of difference.” He hissed, small red hands clenched into fists at his side. You could only stare at him with wide eyes. “Mom…” He took a steadying sigh and flexed out his hands. “Mom, what’s going on?” Wild asked with wide, sad eyes as he reached out to grab your arm. 

Maul roared and leaped at him, his unoccupied hand reaching to claw at the young boy who gasped in shock and stepped back as you barely had enough time to maneuver between Wild and Maul. He pulled up short. You finally wrenched your arm free from his grasp. 

“What the kriff is wrong with you!” Wild growled back from behind you as you both backed away from Maul. Said zabrak growled again and began to puff up. 

“Stop it!” You commanded. Maul took a step closer. “Stop.” Another step, you two backed up. “I said stop!” You raised your voice at Maul as he took another step. Dreading what you knew you might have to do, you raised your hands. “Maul,” another step, the dathomirian’s gaze zeroed in on Wild, “I told you to stop!” You summoned your strength and sent a hard shove through the force to Maul that sent him skidding backwards:not enough to topple him but definitely enough to get the message. His real legs collided with the crates he had previously hidden behind and the former Sith toppled end over end over them before landing with a startled cry. You collapsed, curling in on yourself at the guilt that already gnawed at you. Trembling, you turned to Wild who had watched on with wide eyes and clung to the back of your tunic and pulled him into a hard hug. “I’m sorry.” 

“Well,” a new voice unlike anything you’d heard before echoed all around you and seemed to penetrate your body to go straight to your heart, carving a cold and fearful path wherever it went. You looked up and before you, at the end of the ramp to the cargo hold was Savage, “What do we have here?” and Mother Talzin.

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[quesselfships]

So heads up this will be under the cut because it's pretty niche kink stuff and if you know The Boys you know exactly what kink stuff it is.

When John arrived we had set Loki on the task to create a charm that would allow me to lactate for him. Honestly in the realm of kinks this one doesn't bother me other than I'll likely deal with some sore boobs. I'm barely even an active participant unlike Kylo with watersports and the variety of rough and tumble games Maul enjoys. Even where I need to guide someone like in the case of James. Like here I just have to lay there and let him suck my tits? Wow such effort. It doesn't do much for me (and my boobs were never very sensitive to begin with) but it gets him off, which is hot.

Anyway. Loki puts these charms into housings and they become amulets. He made ones for our age sliders and our GNC people, and now he made mine.

He placed it in a cow amulet because of course he did. I think it's the funniest shit.

John was eager to get to it, but it was pretty obvious when he had done it before with people, it wasn't really done in a good environment. He got subdrop hard, it was often used to manipulate him more, and there was no aftercare to speak of.

So I, of course, am like we have to do this right.

So I made sure he was relaxed, warm and cozy and calm, before we even started. There was some coordination before he fully dropped to subspace to get things working. Hormonal charms are tough and sometimes it hit or miss. I certainly didn't have a large supply of milk, but it was enough. The sucking motion he had was pretty soothing for him to begin with, the milk was pretty much an added bonus.

I was sitting up, kind of leaning on the upper part of my butt and the lower part of my spine, all propped up with pillows and blankets. And he was laying beside me, facing the headboard, sort of on some pillows on my lap but also just on the mattress. This was mostly so he wouldn't crush me and it also gave me fairly easy access to touch him wherever I pleased. He opted to stay in his pyjama bottoms, though he had taken the t shirt off for skin on skin contact. While he hasn't exactly said it's for this reason, I suspect he left the pants on because, well, it's hot when dudes come in their pants.

John is incredibly touch starved. I was just stroking his hair and he was like... Blissed. Totally Blissed out. I let him suck on my fingers for a bit first before finally offering him a breast and guys. Guys. The noise he made was virtually inhuman. It was like this low moan-whimper and he was lost in the sauce.

I kept stroking his hair and I used my other hand to just gently touch his chest and arms because he still had a lot of tension. Like he was waiting for it to just be over and he'd have to cope with the scene by himself without any guidance. I just kind of worked him over until he was certain I wasn't going anywhere.

I purposefully avoided the erogenous zone on his belly and his crotch until he was fully relaxed and he was frustrated by it at first. He's not used to not getting his own way, and in a particularly vulnerable situation like this one he was struggling. He did calm down as I just kind of... Talked him through it. To be patient. It'll be worth waiting.

Once he was relaxed, I escalated, but he was already pretty close. I pretty much just had to massage his cock a little bit from the outside and he was finished, moaning and coming all over himself. It was hot, he was completely lost and in his own world.

I massaged him through the aftershocks and kept petting his hair, until his breathing levelled out more. He moved his head more into my lap and and he shimmied out of the dirty clothes. This is why you should keep baby wipes in the bedroom, quick and easy clean up before covering him up in the blanket and just cuddled with him until he was more verbal again. I don't think he went nonverbal, I think he just chose not to talk.

He said his back was starting to cramp up, so we rearranged to be laying in bed normally, but I was still a little propped up (think how you sometimes sleep when you have a cold to let it drain, like laying down but at an angle at your chest) and he kept his head on my shoulder to fall asleep.

He was out within like 5 minutes.

This morning he was still extremely relaxed, though once I had woken up he got pretty distraught because it was only him who got off, but that's not an issue for me. Part of the fun is his enjoyment. Plus tonight we're going to the Bat rehab centre's Christmas fundraiser and it'll be his first time since arrival where he'll have to be a bit more social, meet a bunch of people, and he's fairly introverted. So having him nice and relaxed for that will be helpful.

So overall I don't think he'll have a huge subdrop, and he had proper aftercare. Today we're just vibing, I'm not even doing chores except for a load of laundry thsts already in the dryer. I don't count my VR workout as a chore lol. We're probably going to have some sushi for lunch and I'll work out. We're watching some YouTube, and I'm going to get some stitching done because I want to finish my Sailor Moon stitch a long before Jan 12 when the Clouds Factory Dino ABC sal drops!

[bbaronpiper]

Wake up call

Here’s another collab with @artsaree​. She’s amazing. you should definitely check out her writings.  So basically, we both wrote half of it . 

warnings: smut

Aron x Reader

my part

7:30 am. Your eyes shot open at the sound of your alarm you turned it off quickly but you still heard a low groan coming from the other side of the bed. You felt Arón stir a little but refused to open his eyes. You turn to face him and run a finger on his cheek. Savoring the few moments you have with your boyfriend. You slept last night without him. He was out partying with his friends. Again. You didn’t have a problem with it at first because you swore you’ll never be that type of girlfriend who controls and forbid their man on the things they want to do. Until recently, it became a habit of his.

“Morning, Baby” His voice was low and husky.      

You smiled at him in return, scooting closer. “Slept well?”

“Si” He said while rubbing his eyes. “Partying after spending whole day on set isn’t easy”

You bit the insides of your cheek to stop you from spitting the words. Arón must have noticed this since he then turned to lie on his back and exhales. Leaving your hand that was on his cheek to fall on his shoulder. “Do you have something to say Y/N?”

You leaned on your elbow trying to get him to look at you. Your hands travelled down to his chest “Don’t you think you’ve been partying a lot lately?”

“Mmm Don’t think so..” he shrugged still not looking at you.

“You’re barely home” you almost whispered not sure if you want to push this discussion.

“What do you mean Y/N? I’m always home” he then looked at you.

You were about to open your mouth to spill everything you’ve been feeling lately but then decided not to. He probably too tired for drama anyways.

“Come here” he motioned to you as he opened his arms. You complied and laid on his chest. “Te quiero.” He lifted your chin up and look at you deeply. “Don’t ever think otherwise. Even just for one second” stupid you, let your heart flutter at his words smiling up at him sweetly.

You splash cold water on your face to snap you out of your thoughts. You stare yourself at the mirror and saw your red and puffy eyes. You kept staring blinking rapidly trying to stop the tears from forming. You stood there for what felt like years before wiping your face with a clean towel. You held your breath one last time, tightly shut your eyes only to open them again, exhale and went out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom.

2:40 am and he’s still not home. Why are you not surprised?

It was so obvious. Looking back now, you felt like a complete idiot blindsided by love. You should’ve seen it coming when he gave you that smile that didn’t reach his eyes anymore, the way your lips touched and moved in sync but the desire to have you was gone.

“Bet you couldn’t last a day without fucking me” you laughed as you teased him. You two just finished fucking and were now watching a movie when his hands travelled up to your thighs again.

“Is that a challenge?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Nahh, just stating facts” you then got this brilliant idea to get back at him for all those times he made you beg and tease you. You straddled him, bury your face onto his neck softly gliding your lips against his skin while your finger trace against his bare chest. You wore nothing but an oversized shirt of his. Nothing underneath so you’re pretty sure he felt how wet you are right now. Normally, this would work. Arón never declined sex.

“Bebe” you whispered to his ear seductively and nibbled on it after.

“Shhh!!! Here comes the best part!” his eyebrows furrowed as he pointed on the screen.

Oh this was gonna be hard. “So, you’re saying, you wouldn’t touch me even if I am naked?” he shrugged, his lips formed an inverted smile with his eyes still glued to the TV. You then took your shirt off. And you swore you heard a soft “damn” coming from him. You just wanted to mess with him, tease him but the feeling of his skin touching yours turned you on as you start grinding him through his boxers moaning close to his ear.

Nada. No emotions.

You sighed in frustration so you decided to take it to another level. You then turned your back at him leaning on his chest, you open your legs wide and draped your legs on his. You smirked as you can already feel his growing bulge against your ass.

“I hate to fuck myself but since my boyfriend’s ignoring me…. Oh well” you announced as your hand gripped his leg and your other hand start to play with your clit. Rubbing small circles and moaning softly at first. You can feel him shifting underneath you. you were surprised when he grabbed your waist and push you off of him and sat you on the side.

“Yo.. you’re b-blocking the view,Y/N” he said uneasy. His hands gripped his thigh and bit his lower lip way too hard for you not to know he’s about to give in.  

You scoffed at him “Oh it’s on!” you then place your left leg again on his right one and start to rub your clit faster than before making you moan so loud saying things like “Ohhh baby…” “Si, Arooonnn, si!” you’re so wet it made it easier to switch from rubbing your clit into inserting two fingers inside you. your other hand then reached for his growing bulge. He refused to touch you but you definitely wouldn’t refuse to touch him. You started palming him as you pleasure yourself earning a low growl from him. “Let me ride you baby”

You then suddenly felt his hand over yours, the one you had on your pussy and jerk it. “You drive me crazy”

  @artsaree​ /Sara’s part

He managed to push you away a little so he could finally flip you both over so he was now on top.

Smirking down at you he pulled down his pants, making his hard dick slap against his lower stomach.

„Open up.“

You bit your lip and jerked your head back to give him easier access to hover over your face. Slowly he slid his dick in your welcoming mouth, making both of you moan out softly.

„Mhm just like that.“ he groaned and held onto the wall for support as you were sucking his tip seductively.

„Take it.“ he suddenly spoke and pushed his length into your mouth. It was always a little hard for you to fit all of him in your little mouth but he still made sure you were okay.

There was still a little space left so you nodded at him to tell him he could push his entire dick in your mouth.

„Dont want you to gag, u know that.“ he just mumbled but did as you told him and he slid his cock deeper.

„Ah fuck.“ he groaned and threw his head back in pleasure.

You could feel tears building up, he seemed to notice too because he pulled out completely. You swallowed and took a deep breath. „You good?“ he spoke but you just replied by bringing his tip back to your lips.

„Mh good girl.“ he moaned out as you kitten licked his tip.

„On your stomach babygirl.“ he groaned after you had sucked on his tip for a bit.

He got off of you and stood up to get a condom from the drawer.

Meanwhile you lied down on your naked stomach and waited for him.

„Open your legs for papi.“ he growled as you felt a harsh smack on your left ass cheek. That made you moan out in pain but it also felt good. It wasnt hardcore pain, but you did know it would leave a spot.

You opened your legs and lifted your hips up a little.

„Yes good.“ you heard his deep voice behind you.

Arón grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips for support. „Ready for my cock honey?“ he asked.

„Yes papi.“ you moaned as a response before he slowly slid his hard cock into your trembling pussy. „Ah fuck you‘re always so tight.“ he whispered and grabbed your hips roughly.

Without hesitation he started slamming into you as if there was no tomorrow. With harsh thrusts he kept hitting your g-spot, making your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open.

Arón was moaning loudly as you could already feel him getting closer.

He changed his angle a little by aiming higher, laying down on your butt.

„Babe.“ he growled and suddenly grabbed you by your hair.

He he never done that before.

And he knew you didnt like it since your head was sensitive.

But that moment you were so turned on, you didnt even think of stopping his actions.

Arón fucked you roughly and fast while you were moaning out his name or cursed. You could hear him panting against your back.

„Im coming baby.“ he groaned and slammed into you with no mercy. You couldnt keep it any longer either.

Two last thrusts and he had you coming for him. Your body started shaking as your orgasm went through your body like lightening.

„Yes baby come on.“ he smacked your butt once again until he came as well. „Fuck yes.“ he almost screamed and jerked your head up on your hair.

It hurt but you were too concentrated on your own orgasm you didnt realize.

Your back was up against his chest while his cock was twitching in you, spilling his cum into the condom.

„Ah fuck.“ he breathed out as he calmed down from his intense orgasm.

You were pretty exhausted too and just expected him to cuddle you and finish the movie but he suddenly whispered:“On your back.“

You were confused but followed his commands and lied down.

„Put your arms behind your back. No touching until I come back.“

By nodding you agreed and he left the room without saying any more.

You waited patiently for him to come back and it was really hard not to touch yourself. You just came, yes, but your clit hadnt gotten any of his attention yet. And usually he ate you out before sex or at least rubbed your clit while he was fucking you.

It took him about 5 minutes to finally return to the bedroom, he was now wearing jeans, but his upper body was still exposed.

„Did you touch yourself baby?“

You shook your head truthfully and spoke:“No I didnt.“

-„Promise?“ he asked and stood in front of the bed looking at you.

„I promise daddy.“

He nodded and finally climbed inbetween your legs.

„Good girl.“

He spread your legs carefully before finally attaching his lips to your thighs, placing soft kisses everywhere.

This boy could really fuck you rough and tell you you‘re his baby a second later.

Your hands were still behind your back, just as he had told you to, while his tongue was tracing circles on your thighs and lower stomach.

„Arón.“ you moaned out, seeking pleasure.

He loved being called daddy or papi, but hearing you say his name was his biggest turn on. He loved your voice, and when it said his given name he got reminded how much he loves you really.

„You sure you deserve this for being such a bitch to me before?“ he played.

„Arón please.“ you exclaimed and looked down at him.

He was just laying there, looking up at you, no part of his body touching yours anymore.

„You know what. Nah. Maybe tomorrow.“

[steves-on-a-plane]

Waiting For You

Words: 2278 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader   Timeline: Pre-The Force Awakens  Request: “Reader is Poe’s childhood best friend, who is force sensitive, and was sent to Luke to train. After the attack at the temple, Poe thought she died. But found out she wasn’t when reader was brought to the base by rescue team.” -Anon

Poe Dameron couldn’t volunteer fast enough when General Leia asked for participants to greet a new transport of refugees that would be coming to the Resistance Base. Poe enjoyed working with the civilians when he could. As a former Spice Runner he’d flown his fair share of risky missions both with and before the Resistance. The close calls were a great ego boost when he maneuvered himself out of a tricky situation, but it was always humbling to see how his life may have turned out if he’d been born on a different planet or made different life choices.

Poe was old enough to have had a past life in Spice, but still young enough to think that bravery and acting on impulse made him invincible. At least that was what General Organa was always telling him. He hadn’t been with the resistance very long, but he learned quickly that no one was invincible. That didn’t stop him from wanting to do what was right, to put a stop the First Order. His actions may have been more personally motivated than he let on to the Resistance leaders, but that didn’t make him any less dedicated to the cause.

Poe laid back in the fold up rack that was his bed. The Resistant Base he currently lived at was hot and muggy, but he didn’t dare roll up the flaps on his tent of fear of some exotic bug buzzing by and biting him. With his hands tucked behind his head, Poe closed his eyes and thought of Her. The girl he’d once known but only existed in his dreams now.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dameron.” She’s whispered the last time they were together. They were laying in the grass watching the clouds drift away and the sun’s rays dissipate.

“Like what?” He laughed, turning his head to look at her.

“Like you’re never going to see me again.” She explained, her eyes still trained to the skies.

“[Y/N], you’re leaving tomorrow and you don’t know when you’ll be back. How could I not worry?” He asked. She sighed. They were both fourteen and had been friends their whole lives. Things on Yavin IV weren’t so bad. It was a quiet planet with lots of greenery, and it had once been the home to a Rebellion base during the old Wars. But [Y/N] wasn’t leaving because of life on Yavin, she was leaving because she was a force sensitive and had been since birth.

[Y/N] and Poe had both known their whole lives that she would have to leave Yavin someday. There was only one Jedi Temple in the whole Galaxy, and it did offer home schooling. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker didn’t require force sensitives to leave their homes as babies the way the Old Jedi Order had, but he also advised against parents sending their children when they were too old. It made them difficult to train.

“You know I have to go.” [Y/N] reminded Poe. She finally turned to look at him. “If I wait much longer, I’ll be too old.”

“You could just not go.” Poe regretted his suggestion the instant he caught a look at [Y/N]’s indignant expression.

“I’ve wanted this my whole life, Poe!” She exclaimed. [Y/N] stood up, she was no longer laying in the grass. “All I’ve ever wanted is the chance to train with Master Luke. To train as a Jedi!” She began pacing as she spoke to him. “To prove that I can do it! That I can make a difference! That I can help people…I-I…”

“I know! I know!” Poe jumped to his feet. He stood in her path, catching her by the elbows to stop her from colliding into him. “[Y/N], I’m sorry. You’re right, you have to go.” Poe looked into her eyes. Her watery eyes looked back. She was on the verge of tears. Poe couldn’t have that. “You have to go.” He repeated. This time more to himself than her. “It was selfish of me to suggest anything else, but you know what I’ll be right here, waiting for you when you come back.”

“Poe, you can’t put your whole life on hold for me.” [Y/N] told him, as she wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Poe rubbed a thumb under her eyelid catching a few tears for her.

“I won’t, but I also know I won’t ever love anyone else. You’re it for me, Babe. So, you go. Become the great Jedi that you’re destined to be because I know you’re going to be the best someday. In the meantime, I’m gonna work hard and I’m gonna become a man worthy enough of the greatest Jedi in the galaxy.”

“Oh Poe!” [Y/N] flung her arms around him and pressed her lips tightly against his.

Poe awake to the hiss of hydraulics and the sound of landing gear coming in contact with the planet’s surface. The transport! He remembered, scrabbling to his feet. Running towards the designated landing zone, Poe arrived just in time to watch the first passenger set off the transport ship.

“You were nearly late, Captain.” General Organa whispered with disapprove as she appeared at his side.

“Only almost.” Poe nodded at her. He looked over at the transport and watched as the refugees stumbled out. Many of them blinked in the sunlight, others wiped away sweat anxiously. They weren’t used to the jungle climate yet. Poe collected supplies from the bins near he and Leia and began offering them to refugees and they settled down.

He introduced himself and told them that they all would be safe now. He studied each of their faces and tried to learn all of their names. There were full families, or single parents hovering over their children. Adults turning down offers of drinking water in favor of the children, despite Poe’s best efforts to convince them that there was plenty to go around. Every one of them reminded Poe of her.

Had [Y/N] not been killed during the massacre at the Jedi Temple, Poe liked to imagine that she’d be here by his side, doling out blankets or clean clothes. They might share a tent just off one of the cliffsides, somewhere she could see the stars at night and the clouds during the day. He wondered if she were still alive would she tell him that he’d kept his promise? Had he grown to become a man worthy of her?

He very much hoped that he had. He might have been impulsive and quick to dismiss authority just as the General had pointed out. He did act first and asked questions later, but often times that got him the best results. He genuinely cared about the people the Resistance helped and the people they fought to protect. He wanted to make things better. He wanted to help people the way [Y/N] had always made seem so easy.

Poe moved around the landing zone as nearly all the passengers had disembarked. The last to arrive were a young woman and a Twi’lek boy with purple skin who couldn’t have been older than seven. The woman kept most of her face hidden with a hood she’d drawn up over her head. She kept one arm wrapped securely around the Twi’lek. The boy looked freighted. His eyes were almost as wide as a BB unit and he was studying the Base suspiciously.

“It’s alright now.” The woman was whispering to him. “We’re safe here.”

“She’s right you know.” Poe agreed walking towards them. He crouched down so that he could talk to the boy at eye level. “No one can hurt you here.” The boy turned away from Poe, burying his face in the woman’s side.

“I’m afraid he’s mistrustful of strangers.” The woman explained. “Orn, this nice man is here to help us.”

“Well then I should introduce myself, then we won’t be strangers anymore.” Poe smiled. “My name is Poe. Did I hear correctly that you’re Orn?”

“Poe?” The woman repeated. With her one arm still wrapped around Orn, the woman reached up and pulled back her hood. “Never in a million galaxies did I expect to find you here.”

Poe looked up from the boy to study the face of the stranger who seemed to know him. The woman looked tired as if she hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. Her cheeks were sullen, and her eyes help a deep sadness. Her hair was longer, and it had darkened over the years, but Poe recognize her laugh anywhere. It was slightly hollow now, not carrying the same joy it had when she was 14, but he’d been playing it for so long in the back of his mind he hardly noticed.

Poe didn’t know what to say. A million thoughts seemed to be scrambling around in his head, like X-Wings about to take off. He opened and closed his mouth three or four times and it seemed [Y/N] was also at a loss for words. So, Poe reached out for her and she leaned into his touch, seemingly melting into his arms. Poe held her close, with one hand on her lower back and the other cradling the back of her head.

“I thought you died.” Poe whispered, not loosening his hold an inch. Tears rose to the surface and he didn’t dare hold them back. “I don’t understand. The Temple, they said there were no survivors.”

“We had to let people think that. We couldn’t risk word getting back to B…Kylo Ren.” She explained. “I’m sorry Poe, if I knew you were with the Resistance all this time, I might have tried to find you sooner.”

“Tried to find me sooner?” Poe finally released his hold enough so that they could look each other in the eyes again. “You’re spy who got in contact with the Resistance and coordinated rescue?”

“I wouldn’t say spy. I prefer information currier.” She told him. “Spy implies that I ever worked with or for the First Order, which I didn’t. I’m just good at keeping my head down and my ears open.”

“I can’t believe that you’re here.” He breathed.

“Captain Dameron.” [Y/N], Poe and Orn watched as General Organa approached them. “Who is your friend?”

“Princess Leia!” [Y/N] gasped.

“No one’s called me Princess is a long time, kid.” Leia replied with a smirk.

“Of course, General. My name is [Y/N].” She looked around nervously making sure no one but the four of them could hear. “Poe and I were friends before I left to study at the Jedi Temple. I knew Master Luke and your son.”

“You were a student at the temple?” Leia repeated just as quietly. “We were told there were no survivors. I assure you had Luke or I known…”

“It’s better that no one knows.” [Y/N] insisted. “At least for now.”

“If that’s what you wish.” Leia nodded. “Poe, there’s room in your tent, right? Why don’t you take [Y/N] and her boy there to rest? We can manage things here for a while without you.”

“Sure.” Poe motioned for Orn and [Y/N] to follow him. He carefully led them through a narrow trail of large leaf fronds and tree roots. “It’s not much further.” He promised knowing how tired they must be from their journey.

Once they reached Poe’s modest tent, [Y/N] put Orn to bed in a spare cot and promised to rest after she and Poe had a chance to talk. The pilot waited outside, digging the toe of his boot into the mud. He wished he knew the perfect thing to say or do to make things less awkward between them.

“I think he’ll be okay for a little bit.” [Y/N] decided as she stepped out of the tent. She waved Poe over a little way away where they wouldn’t be overheard by the sleeping child. “It’s okay. You can ask.”

“Hmm?” Poe feigned confusion. “I mean I wondered, you know, Orn, is he…?”

“He’s not my son, at least not genetically.” She sighed. “He’s been with me even since he was five, I tried to help him and his mother escape a prison camp, but she wasn’t lucky enough to make it. I promised I’d take care of him, it’s what she would have wanted.”

“That’s so like you.” Poe smirked. “Putting other people’s wants and needs in front of your own.”

“What about you, Mr. Resistance?” She poked him playfully in the chest. “I heard the General call you Captain Dameron. You didn’t come by that title overnight.”

“Yeah well…” Poe brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed it reflexively. “I did wait for you on Yavin, for a real long time. I turned down job opportunities off world. Then I remembered you said not to put my life on hold for you, so I didn’t. I took the first job that came my way. It happened to be a smuggling job, but I was good at it and the pay was good so I didn’t mind. Until the news about the Temple got out. I didn’t want to just run illegal spices from spaceport to spaceport anymore. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help people. So, I tried to think what would [Y/n] do? And it led me here.”

“You joined the Resistance for me?” She asked.

“Well when you say it that way…” Poe rolled his eyes. “It’s cheesy.”

“It’s romantic.” [Y/N] disagreed. She took a step closer to him. “So, Captain Dameron, does this Base have a quiet place the two of us could get to know each other all over again?”

[capricornus-rex]

A Legacy Begun (10)

Chapter 10: The Advent of an Alliance | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Prompt/s in play: Anon prompt (found in Chapter 1 link) + fic idea

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

10 of ?

Cassidy darts out of the quarters, her precious unignited saber in hand, and kept announcing the words, “I did it!”

Everyone turned to the scarlet-haired child. She wanted to make sure everyone got a closer look of the saber that she has constructed all on her own, she was three times proud of herself than her parents combined. Her quirky disposition somehow reminded you and Cal individually of your childhoods—the medley of thrill and anxiety at the Gathering, the accomplishment of constructing the saber down to the last component all by oneself, and the satisfying hum of the saber blazing out of the emitter that cements their being a Jedi.

“Ooh, it turned out quite beautifully, Cassidy!” you grinned, leaning closer to get a look of the overall design.

It was neat and sleek, simple yet elegant—you strongly believed that the lightsaber reflected her, not just by personality, but also her fighting style.

Two years prior this Gathering, it was too soon to figure out what lightsaber form Cassidy was inclined to using. However, it was vital that she’d be exposed to all seven forms—you and Cal have made it clear that it wasn’t a hard requirement for her to master each and every one. Although her capabilities appear to drift between Form I: Shii-Cho and Form III: Soresu—the latter is the most prominent.

“You think so, Mom?”

“Of course. I never doubted you for a moment, my girl,”

She rung her little arms around your neck, naturally, you hugged her back—wrapping your arms around her small back and playfully shaking her in the middle of it.

“Go ahead and play now, if you like, but we’ll get clean up in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded and then turned to BD-1 sitting on the sofa. “Come on, BD!”

“Trill, bee!”

The two friends scampered along, the droid followed wherever the girl went—fetching her three favorite toys: the Binog named Nog, the Bogling who’s been called Bog ever since her infancy, and the Shyyyo Bird she fondly referred to as Shy and then placing them all in the lounge.

While Cassidy played away with BD-1 and her stuffed animals, you headed to the bathroom to draw a warm bath. You politely interrupted Cassidy’s playtime to clean her up—starting with taking off her snowflake-covered poncho, you brought her to the bathroom and cleaned her there: wiping her face clean of frost and snow until the freckles and the pinkness of her cheeks stood out more, rinsed and lathered her head well enough to make sure the snowstorm hadn’t hardened her hair into a red, solid sheet.

Finally, she sported a dark green jacket and black pants—an ensemble that nearly looked identical with Cal’s, spare the armor. She returned to her playtime and kept her saber close, even though it’ll be a long while before she could actually use it. Eventually, in the middle of the trip, exhaustion has taken over little Cassidy until she had fallen asleep in the middle of her playtime—BD-1 didn’t want to disturb her so he set himself to sleep mode as well, sitting with his legs tucked underneath his body on the table, along with the toys, and her arms crossed together acted like a pillow but her saber was trapped in her hand. You’re endeared by the sight—you first pulled away the saber in her hand and then carried her to the couch where she’ll be comfortable, you replaced the saber with the Binog as the child continued to dream

“Sleep tight, baby,” you whispered and leaned to forehead to plant a kiss.

You retired to Cal’s former quarters and found himself busy against the workbench. He turned around to acknowledge your presence.

“She and BD are taking a nap,”

Cal paused from his handiwork, “Oh?”

“Yeah, I just tucked her in on the couch in the lounge,” you leaned casually against the door with your arms crossed and a smirk traced all over your lips.

“You’re not too busy, I hope,” your husband purred as he started pacing towards you.

The smirk on your face extended, chuckling through your nostrils as you play along with the act. You rolled your eyes in a thoughtful manner and then shrugged your shoulders seconds later.

“I don’t think so,”

“Good,”

A single flimsy wave of his two fingers and the audible crunch of a button clicked right next to your ear. He maintained that smug look in his face, you smiled off the growing tension ripping between the gap that he’s closing with every step closer to you.

“I’m afraid the door’s jammed,” you jokingly point out the obvious.

“How unfortunate,”

He planted his palms flat against the wall on both of your sides, trapping you between his arms; he’s surprised that you’ve kept your demeanor steady for this long. You slid down while keeping his eyes on him, giving him the false hope of you submitting to him, but you only did so to slip underneath his arms to retreat to the workbench.

“So, what is it that you’ve been busying yourself with?”

He sighed and then went after you, “I’m recalibrating the Mantis’s shared-line transponder, Cere thinks that it’s taking a few seconds before the signal reaches our home.”

“Any luck so far?”

“Haven’t tested it yet,” his warm breath blew over your shoulders, goosebumps crawled all over your arms. His hands slithered down to your thighs and dug his fingers deep into your flesh.

“Do you plan to?”

“I have other things in mind,”

His fingers clawed their way up to clutch your waist; he goes on to leave a trail of kisses on your neck—gradually bruising them as he gingerly nips away at your skin—you crane your head up, giving in to his lips. You absentmindedly put aside the transponder to the far side of the worktable. He quickly lifted you up to the surface of the table the instant you turned to face him; he denied you a chance to speak or react using his lips, his tongue slithering into your mouth and exploring your taste.

Even with your eyes closed, you managed to unzip his jacket, pale skin popped out of the clothing and he shook off the sleeves until he was bare—he did the same to you and rucked up your tank top. A chuckle rumbled in your throat, it rang seductively into his ears as his lips ghosted over the groove between your breasts.

Cal hooked his arms around your thighs while his tongue flicks your nipple inside his mouth, a squeak escaped your throat—keeping yourself quiet amidst this heating ecstasy was a struggle, you didn’t want to wake Cassidy with your screaming Cal’s name. He pulled away for a moment only to shush you and then rested you flat against the white, narrow bed.

“Hush now, we wouldn’t wanna disturb Cassidy’s nap,”

“I’ll be good then,” you mewled.

He brushed his lips to yours to silence you, his tongue tracing along the line of your bottom lip while you prod yours into his mouth.

Hours later, both of you cuddled in your former bed, truly reliving the old days but feeling like you’re still back to the time where all of you were just wondering where to go next. You opted to take a shower and wore your jacket lousily until you found your way to the bathroom. While you bathed, Cal stepped out of the quarters to fix himself a glass and spotted Cassidy already up and about.

She stood in the very center of the ship—just in front of the lounge’s table—testing out her saber, waving it around the same way she would with the practice saber back home. Cal watched her from the dining table, making stances of her own mixed with the standard ones taught to her, he smiled to himself when he saw her attempt a flourish spin.

“Be careful when you do that, sweetie, we wouldn’t want Greez to find a slash on the ceiling,”

Cassidy spun around, startled by her father’s remark. She was so absorbed with her solo practice session that she wasn’t unaware of his presence; a bright red colored over her freckles as she realized this rookie mistake.

“Sorry, Dad, I… I figured you were there,”

“I guess you concentrated a bit too much on your saber,”

Unable to respond, she was guilty of that claim, she averted her eyes from her father—slightly embarrassed—and then turned to her saber, examining the smooth black hilt rolling in the palm of her hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m not mad,”

“I should’ve really known your presence seconds ago,” she mumbled disappointingly to herself.

Cal walked away from the dining and towards his daughter. He knelt down to her level and plants his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s easy to get lost in emotions—especially excitement—but that doesn’t mean you’re less of what you’ve become. That saber is an extension of you; it’s only natural that you’re taking your time with it. Just remember to be mindful of your feelings and your surroundings, we’ll learn more on that when we get home. Will you be ready by then?”

Cassidy’s soulful, dark eyes lit up and her mouth stretched into a wide smile on her little face.

“Am I ever!?”

“That’s my girl,” he tussled her hair and leaned in to brush his beard against her cheek. “Itchy kisses!”

“Aaaagh, no! Not the itchy kisses, Dad!”

It was too late for Cassidy to run away from the clutches of her dad, he had already locked her in his arms at the mercy of his beard tickling her cheeks and neck. Her laughter, a voice that’s sweet and silky like honey, chimed across the entire ship. Eventually, she slipped away from her father’s grasp and snatched up both Nog and Shy—as protection, she pecked Cal’s head using the little Shyyyo Bird’s cotton-stuffed beak.

“Oh no, the Great Shy has attacked me!”

Cal’s baritone laugh mingled with his daughter’s high-pitched giggles. You were attracted the sound and led you to the galley as soon as you stepped out of the quarters after getting dressed. The sight of father and daughter instantaneously warrants a smile across your face. You discover Cassidy splayed like a bird, with her Shyyyo Bird in hand as if mimicking its flight, while being carried in Cal’s arms—your husband gently swerved and bobbed your daughter up and down.

You sneak up on them, picking up Bog along the way and bounced the toy across Cassidy’s back.

“Hey, you forgot to bring little Bog on the trip with Shy!” you cooed.

“Oh, that’s right! Bog always loves to go higher than he can jump!” Cassidy concurred.

BD-1 joined in on the game when he used his little turbojets to give Nog a joyride flight along with the Kestis family.

“Alright, BD! Glad you brought Nog with you!” the child yipped. “Now everyone’s joined in!”

The four of you have lost yourselves in the dreamy, imaginary world where Boglings can ride Shyyyo Birds and a droid can carry a Binog on top of its head as it flew—a fantasy world that your little daughter had created. The parents had a bit too much fun playing with their daughter that they didn’t realize the Mantis had already finished its landing cycle.

“Uh, didn’t wanna interrupt your fun time there but we’re back at Zera now,” Greez announced as he awkwardly put himself into the scene of the Kestis family bonding.

“Oh, we’re home!” Cassidy squirmed away from her father’s arms, she couldn’t wait anymore for him to lower her to a safer height. She speeds out of the ship, ultimately forgetting about her backpack and only brought her lightsaber with her.

“Well, kid’s been homesick after being in that snowcone of a planet, huh?” Greez pointed the empty space over his shoulder with his two right thumbs.

“Yeah, I think she’s become more comfortable with the climate here in Zera,” Cal chuckled.

The two of you collected your possessions from the quarters and the rest of the crew accompanied you to the door.

“We’ll see you soon!” you bade.

“Don’t be a stranger, you two. After all, this is still your home,” Cere added.

—–

FIVE MONTHS AFTER CASSIDY’S GATHERING

The parents’ shifted in where they stood, watching Cassidy with great interest with her change of tactics; the question of what she’s planning to do next buzzed with anticipation.

The droid repeated its attack pattern, and Cassidy was about to put her plan into play. It would appear that her free hand acted as some sort of anchor to balance herself in her stances, her knees were buckled, and her movements were quite lively—matching up to the pace of the droid’s current pattern.

It was apparent that Cassidy had become more adept in fighting with her own lightsaber, compared to using only a plain prototype. The theory that having one’s own lightsaber amplified a Jedi’s skill lingered in your minds together, but the thought was immediately brushed off, returning your attention to the child.

The floating sphere suddenly became more aggressive, but that didn’t faze Cassidy. She’s delved in too deep with her one-on-one with this ball in the air, the sight of her parents were nothing but a mere blur in her vision now. The sphere zoomed in a quite abrupt speed, Cassidy’s head jerked to follow it, and sprang to its direction; affording only a second, she bounced off of her heels, planted the soles of her feet against a tree trunk—banking more air so she could make a jumping attack against the training droid, which looked up too little too late.

Two halves of what the droid was made out of plopped to the bed of earth.

“So-Sorry, I got carried away there,” she stammered while having the kick of adrenaline still in her blood vessels, it confused her parents why she was so apologetic about that.

“Not at all,” Cal rebutted. “For a moment there, you looked like you planned it all by yourself—at the expense of only a few seconds.”

“That’s quite impressive, to think fast within such a small window of chance,” you added. “That’s a remarkable trait that you should hone, Cassidy.”

“Really?”

In reply, you flick your eyebrows up while Cal busied himself with something.

“Let’s try something else—it’s pretty much the same as our daily instruction, but you can’t improve without a challenge in the way,”

Cal places a helmet with an opaque visor that covered her eyesight.

“Uh, how am I supposed to see the enemy—or the training sphere, in this case?”

“The eyes can deceive, but if you trust the Force as well as your instincts and emotions—letting it guide and flow within you, only then will the lack of sense of sight not be such a disadvantage. Let’s begin.”

There was no room for Cassidy to argue on that. She positioned herself in a stance, her yellow blade hummed lowly next to her ear and the hissing of the replacement training remote drowned out the sound of the insects and critters lurking amongst the trees.

Her anxiety was very evident—the calm exterior that she demonstrated while she still could use you eyesight had been reduced to a hunched, shaky demeanor.

“Relax,”

She rounded her lips to release the air that she had been keeping in her lungs, readjusted her fingers’ grip around the sleeve of the hilt; her ears twitched at the hiss of the training droid—indicating that it had moved, but to where?

Fair enough that her blade mirrored where the sphere had hovered to, though it was tricky to predict the timing of its attacks. Cassidy allowed herself to loosen, giving a part of herself to the Force.

One. Two.

On your left. She mentally coached herself, but it felt like she was only repeating the words the Force was telling her.

Three. Four.

Top.

Five!

The droid’s aggressive attack patterns were denied of a target from the young Padawan. The child never ceased to surprise you and your husband. For the next two waves of attack from the sphere, she was only hit once in total of three rounds against the hovering ball.

“Very good, Cassidy,” he affirmed. “Now, let’s change instruction.”

Cal produced a bipedal training droid into the scene, perhaps standing about 5’8, compared to the child who was a solid five-footer; its body was coated by its own shield generator, a single contact on any part it will automatically disable by itself—indicating success to the wielder who has tapped the shield with their weapon. This was a design that Cal took pride in—it was both efficient and innovative, without needing to harm either the droid or the live wielder.

The humanoid droid wielded an electrobaton, similar to the Scout Trooper’s weapon. The towering height may have taken the little one aback, but when her hand tightened, her nerves remembered the feel of the saber hilt.

Bringing both of her hands around the sleeve, she stood in front of the droid, holding a lunging stance with the enemy at the point of her blade—she anticipated the nearly-sentient being’s next move. It thrusted its baton towards her and quickly went out of its line of fire. However, the droid was quick to deflect her overhead strike. They traded strikes—the sunshine gold blade parrying against the indigo lightning crackles contained at one end of a stick.

“Cal, do you read?”

Cal’s comlink rang and he replied to acknowledge Cere.

“I’ve picked up a signal that came in. It’s a gunship, but not Imperial. I think it’s Mari Kosan,”

His eyebrows furrowed. What would she want to do here?

He asked Cere to verify if it was really her vessel and if it really was her aboard it; no doubt about it, the ship that just arrived is the partisan.

“Did she transmit anything?”

“She only asked where you’d be,” Cere received the coordinates of the Kestis homestead’s area coordinates from Cal in reply.

You sensed the distant growling of a ship’s throttle—distinctively different from the Mantis’s—and glanced to the side, to your husband for some enlightenment.

“It’s Mari,”

Your reaction was the mirror image of his own mere moments ago when Cere connected to his comlink. He noticed that your eyes have trailed away for a second, and he’s sensed it too—the gunship has touched the forest moon’s soil. There was a wordless exchange between you and Cal, he marched out of the clearing and you stayed put in watching over your daughter’s training session.

Cal personally met with Kosan, her ship had docked a few miles away from the homestead’s vicinity; he had already spotted her reaching halfway of the house. Mari immediately noticed Cal coming from the other direction and shifted there, she was flanked by four more soldiers.

The distance was now close between the Jedi and the partisan. They exchange greetings, simply by mentioning their names.

“It’s been a while,” Mari followed up.

“A few years or so,”

“How are you and [y/n]?”

“We’re holding up quite well—better than Ilaro, actually,”

“So sorry to hear what happened there,” she hung her head low. “It was your home albeit for a short time.”

“Yeah, it took us by surprise. Neither of us imagined that the Empire would get there, but at this kind of time, it shouldn’t come off as such,”

Mari Kosan hummed in reply, an agreeing tone at that. A brief moment hung between man and woman. Then in the silence, Mari had sensed Cal’s question coming on, so she beat him to it.

“Ever heard from Saw?”

“Not lately, why?”

“The last time my contacts found him, they told me he was close by this system,”

Cal flung his arms, gesturing the wide nothingness except for the green plains where they stand.

“And then they told me that the two Jedi who helped us in Kashyyyk lived in the said system.” Mari finished.

“I didn’t even know Saw had been close to us, geographically speaking. Ever since we got here, it was just the people in the Mantis, my wife and I, and—”

Mari spotted you coming out of the forest, catching a glimpse of his daughter holding your hand, Cal immediately followed where the partisan’s eyes were. You joined his side in front of Mari, standing behind your hip—almost as if hiding herself from the strangers—is Cassidy.

“Your daughter, no doubt. She has your hair and her mother’s eyes,” Mari pointed. “She’s a beautiful child.”

“Thank you,”

“Hello there,” Mari’s expression warmed to meet the child.

“Hi…” the child’s voice was barely inaudible, still shy of these armed people whom she’s seen for the very first time.

“Mari, it’s been a while,” you greeted.

“Yes, too long if I may say so,” she greeted back, speaking for the fine lines etching across her cheekbones and jaw.

“What’s this visit all about?”

Your inquisitive tone slightly shook the aging partisan, but she smiled the assumed tension away and answered directly.

“There’s a base in another moon, Yavin IV, where it’s safer. The rebellion. It’s been established a year ago, the growth is slow, but we have good people there—some of the partisans from Kashyyyk have already been moved there, either by their own volition or they’ve been scouted or endorsed. When I heard that you two were here, I knew I had to seek you out,”

“And you want to recruit us—as fighters? Just like back in Kashyyyk years ago?”

Your hold around Cassidy’s shoulder slowly reeled her in closer to you, imaginings of skirmishes flashed in your mind—back then, it felt like an honor to fight; but now that you have a family to take care of, second thoughts always followed behind.

“That decision lies with you alone. But I’d be lying if I said you won’t be fighting or encountering any danger. Still, it’s better than hopping from one planet or moon to the next just to elude the Empire without anyone but yourselves—that’s not exactly the most ideal lifestyle for a family.”

Husband and wife traded questioning glances, still not biting into Mari’s pitch.

“Think of it this way, you’ll have good people—some of whom you may know—surrounding you in a safe place. These people are fighting for the same thing—freedom, for all of the systems that the Empire has robbed of opportunities and own choices. Everybody’s tired of the suffocation, we’re just the handful of people who wanted to do something about it.”

Cal looked to you, he had sensed you’d been deliberating with yourself ever since Mari started pitching. Your eyes rolled down to Cassidy, she had been listening even though she barely grasp the concept of what this older woman is trying to pursue.

When she was received with silence and pensive stares, she collected her breath after that speech.

“The offer still stands, I’ll be in touch with you—Cere has a hold of my signal. Think about it, Cal, [y/n]. For your child’s sake,”

She turned face, she and her soldiers marched their way back to their gunship. You and your husband watched the group disappear from the glade. Cal shepherded mother and child to the homestead as night fell.

For hours, Cal felt your uneasiness, he had caught the shudders in your arms and hands whenever the two of you touch—accidentally or otherwise. That night, you had just finishing bathing Cassidy in time for bed, the sheen of her hair shone against the lamp’s light as you brushed her in neat, smooth strokes.

“Mom, who was that lady earlier?”

“That was Mari, a friend of ours. We fought bad guys together,”

“Why did she say that the other place is safer?” she turned around to face you, unintentionally moving away from the brush. “Are we in trouble here? Because I don’t sense any trouble or anything. It’s been really nice here.”

Her dark irises gleamed in the lamplight. For you, it was like looking back in a mirror—but it felt more like looking back and talking to your younger self of that exact age.

“What Mari means is that the other place, called Yavin, is much safer because we’ll have our other friends there,” you continued to brush her hair in that angle. “Unlike here: it’s just you, me, Daddy, aunts Cere and Merrin, and Greez.”

“Well, if the bad guys ever find us, I’ll help you and Dad in fighting them. I got my saber right here!” she extended her hand, pulled in her saber from the nightstand to her hand using the Force—proving her conviction.

“My, what a brave girl you’ve become,” you crooned, gently taking the weapon away from her hand, putting it back down on the nightstand and then cupping her cheeks. “I’m so proud.”

“Is our little girl ready for bed?” Cal popped into the room, joining you on Cassidy’s bed.

“I was just about to, Daddy,”

“Well, time to tuck you in, little champ!”

“You should’ve seen her earlier with the droid—evading its attacks like a Jedi Master,”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah, I went like this! And then that!” the child towered over her parents, standing up on her bed as she reenacted her movements from the training session earlier.

Cal caught her before she could get carried away and hurt herself off the bed, but he still encouraged and affirmed her, boosting her morale on her Jedi training.

“Any more training and you might beat me!”

“Yeah, I sure am!”

“Aww, I can’t let that happen—not until my scruffy kisses have something to say about it!”

Cal attacked Cassidy with his stubble, tickling her with his fingers wiggling across her sides while pricking her cheeks with the ends of his beard. Laughter squeaked out of the little girl’s throat, kicking and pushing away her dad but to no avail. Only when she had called you for her rescue did Cal ceased to attack her with tickles.

“Alright, alright, more tickles to come if you don’t go lights out now,” you playfully scolded.

“Okay, Mom, good night!” she leaned closer, wrapping you in a hug as she kissed your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie. And Daddy?”

Cassidy jokingly hesitated and wagged her finger at Cal, “No scruffy kisses?”

“No scruffy kisses, I promise,”

That was good enough for Cassidy. She threw her arms around Cal and aimed for his freckled cheeks to which he kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her as well. Over her shoulder, Cal exchanged glances and small smiles with you.

“Alrighty now, my little Padawan, good night,”

“Good night, Daddy, I love you,”

“I love you too, munchkin,”

You switched off the lamp on her nightstand, leaving the bedroom together with Cal. You stopped yourself in your tracks, turning around to see Cassidy falling asleep peacefully, warm in her bed under her wool blanket. Cal stood behind you, watching your daughter.

“When we had Cassidy, I never imagined it to be like this,” you shake your head, arms crossed while leaning against the door frame. “Yet somehow, I’ve always known such a time like this would come.”

Cal rested his chin over your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist while thoughtfully looking at your baby girl, “It’s not an easy childhood, but it’s the lengths that we do to keep her safe. To keep our family safe. She’ll understand when she’s older—we’ll help her understand.”

You peered to your side, Cal flashes a small yet fond smile. He inched closer, kissing your cheek; he takes your hand and spirits the two of you away from Cassidy’s bedroom.