#and i get to savour the entirety of it

[brokoala-soup]

i'm feeling something and the last time I felt this, it led me to 7 hours of crying and a ruined NYE; but then again that was years ago so are we up for it again?

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. a woman in uniform.

about. satoru let’s you try his uniform on in the bedroom and loses his fucking mind. not even the strongest sorcerer can resist a woman in uniform.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, power play, pussy jobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), clothed sex, blind folds, some slight sub/dom dynamics, fem!reader. i wrote this with my clit tbh.

i think that gojo goes feral for you wearing his uniform. the whole get up, the blind fold and the jujutsu tech jacket. he’ll try to fight it, the feeling of power slipping away, as you crawl up the bed and between his thighs — your tongue dragging over your lips.

“oh, you shakin’ satoru?” he can see the excitement dancing around in your eyes even through the fabric covering them. he can sense the flare in your energy as you loom over him, ranking your nails down creamy washboard abs while his infinity fizzles away. “poor you. it’s not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?”

if satoru really wanted to, he would flip the situation in an instant — have you pinned to the bed with your clothes askew and your mouth hanging open in breathy whines as you beg for him to touch you. but he doesn’t. he can’t. you have so much power over him when you’re dressed like that and you act like you’re the strongest one in the room. you both know that he has the power to end your free rein over his body.

he is the strongest after all.

your mouth is quick to follow your nails, teeth and tongue trailing a wet path from gojo’s prominent collar bones, between his firm pecs and down his tense stomach. you suck hickies into the bone of his slender hips, shades of mauve and navy-ish blue blooming against pale skin like adding water colours to a blank canvas. satoru inhales sharply, losing control of his invisible barrier just so he can savour the feeling of you ravishing his body with nips and sucks and kisses.

you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“lift your hips, satoru, let me see what you’ve got under all this,” you coo sweetly and it’s as if you’re drizzling honey in his ears. the white haired man follows your command like it’s the law, instinctively bucking up and away from the bed so you can pull down his boxers. “how sweet, you’re so hard.” satoru’s cock springs free from its restraints, sticky and bright red at the tip, pulsing and thick at the shaft. when you touch him and take hold of his length in your tiny hand, kitten licking the entirety of him while you look up at him hungrily through your blindfold… the man is sure he might die. you could kill him like this, with his infinity down…and you’re fully aware of it.

teasingly, you ease his cockhead past the seam of your kiss swollen lips and let it nudge the soft epithelium on the inside of your cheek — lubing him up, getting him ready for more of your torture. “should i suck you off? or should i ride you?” you manage, even though your mouth is full of dick…the next, your nose is buried in a trail of soft white pubic hair.

“don’t do that… please…” satoru whines, chest flushed and heaving, brilliant blue eyes boring deep into your soul. his fists form balls at the sides of his shaky legs, he could reach out and touch you — coax you into giving him more. it’s not like he has any restraints on…except for the metaphorical ones of your will and your control. you let go of him with a lewd pop, a trail of your saliva mixed with milky precum tying you to his sensitive erection. “f-fuck…”

cocking your head to the side, you use a soiled thumb and forefinger to lift the black hand over one of your dangerously pretty and mirth-filled eyes. “do what?” you respond with an inquisitive purr, licking your lips and moaning at the taste of the six eyes on them.

“s-shit,” satoru curses, blood curdling and boiling hot lust spreading through all four of his limbs at the sight. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me…don’t act like you don’t know how feral i am for you…” saliva pools on the pallets of his tongue, slipping in between the sorcerer’s words as you move like a vixen in the woods above him — sliding yourself into gojo’s lap to position yourself perfectly above his aching cock. “don’t—“

gojo chokes on a moan as you begin circling your hips, plush and puffy pussy lips sucking in the length of his cock whilst it lays flat against his tummy. if he focuses his mind enough, pushes through the dark veil of lust you’ve pulled over his mind that works in overdrive, he can just about see his bulbous, leaky tip peeking out from underneath the folds of his dark uniform — the uniform that’s draped so perfectly over the curve of your mouth-watering body. a deep groan anchors itself in gojo’s chest like the roots of a sturdy oak tree and his hands leap up from the bedsheets to grip your peachy ass barely hidden by his clothes.

“don’t this, don’t that,” you hum condescendingly, as you alternate the movement of your hips — dragging them back and forth, back and forth over your lover’s pathetically wet dick. you make sure to clench your slick hole every time it meets his tip, glazing him in a small stream of your arousal. “don’t you know how to shut up ‘n take it, satoru?”

the dominance in your voice has the white haired man in shambles, twitching beneath the weight of your body on his. for christs sake, he’s the strongest, he brings curses and sorcerer alike to their knees just by mention of his name. so why is he so weakened by the sight of you above him? by the sight of you in his clothes, grinding sloppily on his wet cock? gojo doesn’t want infinity projecting him, not when he occasionally slips inside of your welcoming, tight cunt when you thrust yourself down on him.

“g-god…baby, please!” he hiccups, fighting the urge to force you down onto him fully — bully his way into your squishy insides. satoru could do anything he wanted to you, in a single moment he could have you sniffling against the sheets and crying as much as your cunt does…but the way you rein him in just by wearing his clothes stops him.

“what’s the matter, handsome? you cryin’?”

at your teasing, the cream that oozes from his sensitive tip paints your clit adds to your gathering arousal as it soaks through satoru’s uniform. nastily, he doesn’t think he’ll wash it, he wants the memories of tonight to stay with him forever. he wants to remember how you took over him and took his every capability in using his power — reducing the satoru gojo to a pussy drunk fool.

the scent of your sex is the only way he can think to immortalise this moment.

“i can… i can take it. give it t’me, want everythin’ you’ve got,” satoru simpers eagerly over the lewd, sticky pap, pap, pap of your sexes meeting in a salacious bump and grind. he has no idea where to look — intimidated by the control that oozes off of you, the control that he gives you. if he stares at your bouncing breasts beneath his jujutsu tech jacket or your clenching cunt for too long, he might just bust all over you and his inform before he even has the chance to be inside of you.

light laughter escapes you at gojo’s babyish bleats and whimpers — so you lift the blindfold once more, lips spreading into a slow and sexy smirk, much like the kind he would tease you with. “i don’t think you can handle my everything, baby.”

and you’d be right. not even the strongest sorcerer in japan could handle his woman in his uniform.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[deus-sema]

Natsu's emotional intelligence is greatly underestimated. He is anything but blissfully unaware; he is highly perceptive of how others feel and reacts accordingly. For instance, when Jellal was about to be arrested by the Magic Council towards the end of the Oracion Seis arc, he could sense Erza's turmoil and understood what the former meant to her which led to him taking a stand for Jellal. He reassured Juvia that they would get Gray back during the Avatar arc. He was mature enough to put up an innocent charade of incompetence to keep Asuka happy. He has lent emotional support to Lucy on several occasions and showcased utmost sensitivity.

That brings us to two questions: Why does he play the clueless fool and what will make him acknowledge his feelings and, eventually, act on them?

First, it is my interpretation that what terrifies Natsu more than anything else in the world is loss. He cannot so much as entertain the possibility of losing the people he loves. Let alone accept its inevitability. It is why he adheres to a maladaptive coping style where he simply avoids difficult situations and feelings. Instead of facing the reality of Igneel's death and allowing himself to be supported by his friends, he chose to isolate himself from everyone with only Happy for company. Natsu would sooner bear the burden of the entire world than share his own with his friends.

When the situation is under control and whatever crisis they're facing is averted, he wilfully regresses to his childish ways, content with the knowledge that he wouldn't have to face his feelings or address them. That everything will be how it always has been.

For Natsu to experience growth, he will have to experience a loss from which he can neither escape nor avoid. It shouldn't be a permanent one but it needs to last a while and end with the realisation that life is too short to not be savoured in its entirety. That he needs to break out of the shell he so stubbornly clings to and let people in.

Then there are his feelings for Lucy, who, I daresay, is in an entirely different category from the rest of his friends.

His words to Lucy at the end of the manga, that they will always be together, are not so much a statement, as they are a promise, both to her and to himself for when he believed that he had lost her forever, the outcome was frightening. Much like his brother Zeref, whose whole tragedy was triggered by his inability to come to terms with losing the one he loved most, Natsu's intense devotion for Lucy can bring out the worst in him.

For NaLu to unite for good, I need them to be apart for a while. When faced with the reality that Lucy might not be by his side forever or vice versa, Natsu will have no choice but to face his demons and get his act together. It will not be an easy process but a little angst has never harmed anyone.

[kitorin]

"I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"What's wrong, Rin?" Another page turns, your eyes remain glued to the novel, head resting on his thighs as his fingers occasionally poke your cheek.

"Am I ugly?"

The question makes you choke on your spit; Itoshi Rin, the very man who had you infatuated at first glance with his prominent eye lashes and his wintry gaze, just asked if he was hideous.

"Who the hell said that?" The surprise makes you sit up, and Rin barely dodges collision with your head. It's common knowledge that he couldn't care less about his appearance, skin and hair care were simply for hygiene, which was all that mattered to him. There's anger heating up at the thought of someone breaking his indifference, and it reveals itself through your speech

"No one, Yukimiya's photographer came for a photo shoot. Everything went well until I noticed the lines on my face."

"Lines?"

He nods "They weren't there before." His fingers ghost over an area near his cheeks. "Apparently they're not supposed to be there." Rin reaches into his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo.

It's a photo of him, Hiori and Yukimiya, the three of them grinning whilst being covered in designer brands. Nothing seemed wrong, it's an adorable photo; revealing Rin's typically concealed dimples, eyes squinting with joy, the kind of smile he uses when he's genuinely happy, instead of the polite and subtle one he gives to interviewers.

"I don't see an issue."

"Here." He zooms into his face. "Those things." His lithe fingers point towards the area between the sides of his nose and the corners of his mouth. Smile lines.

"Fans said they shouldn't be there. So, am I ugly now?"

There's a legitimate confusion laced with his tone, and you silently thank how he decided to talk about it with you before believing in whatever comments were left on Instagram.

"First, whatever fans say have no credibility, they're just people on the internet. Second." You climb into his lap again, cupping his cheeks and once again getting lost in the depths of his beryl irises. "Those are called smile lines. You're not ugly for having them, and never will be." His aquamarine eyes gaze back, as you brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Even if they weren't there before?"

"Of course. They're a sign you're living a life filled with joy and happiness. And that is more beautiful than any beauty standard out there, and so are you." Your thumbs trace the creases, the entirety of your palms can feel the warmth of his cheeks, savouring how the softness contrasts the callousness of your hands. "You're beautiful, you always have been and always will be. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

Your lips plant a kiss on his forehead, and you soon return to admiring every crevice of his face. From the viridescent azure irises and the eyelashes which adorn them, how surprisingly soft and squishy his cheeks are (of course only you'll ever know that).

"Thank you for putting them there then."

"Hm?"

"I never had reasons to smile. Not until I met you."

Anyone can tell Itoshi Rin seldom expresses emotion, let alone joy; but you had always assumed he kept it to himself rather than believe nothing was worth his jubilation.

His hands reach for yours, fingers ghosting over them. "Thank you for brightening my life, for being the reason why I'm able to live so happily." Gently, his hand pries one of yours off his face, placing a kiss on it. "I love you."

Rin smiles; it's soft, exposing his dimples and smile lines, cheeks matching his lips in colour. You're pretty sure you're just as flushed.

A quick peck to his lips (he still tastes like the persimmon haichuu you were eating together earlier) and you swear he somehow grows redder. "Does this mean I'm allowed to have the last ice cream?"

"You're supposed to say it back dumbass. And fuck no, that's mine." Despite his callous language he picks you up into a cradle carry, placing you down besides him, soon making his way to the front door. "What flavours do you want? And what kind and which brand?"

"Awww, I love you too, I want the vanilla and melon soft serve by the way."

Rin scoffs. "Of course you only say it back when I'm doing you a favour." But he's pocketing his wallet, and about to unlock the door to leave. "You're annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Are you sure? Because I'm buying every flavour of yukimidaifuku and you're not getting any. Milky candy too." You don't miss the smirk on his face at the sight of your disbelief.

"I hate you."

"Love you too darlin'."

[In the end "you're not getting any" was a lie]

Tagging: @yuzurins

[stillfoodforguys]

I thought it would just be a quick hookup: arrive, get my ass pounded, and leave with enough time to meet my friends at the bar tonight. I was pinned face-down with this giant’s hands pressed firmly against my shoulders, my hole getting opened up wide by his thick member thrusting into me. His gut was so huge that even though his arms were fully outstretched, it still hung low enough to touch my back the whole time, sweat building up from the shared heat of our bodies being permanently in contact.

I thought I’d be free once he filled me with his load, but I wasn’t expecting him to collapse on top of me with the entirety of his immense weight. He was too lazy to even pull his cock out afterwards, which stretched me out way too much to just ignore the feeling. He ignored my gentle squirming at first, but my persistent attempt to escape eventually got a response out of him.

“You’re staying right where you are, sexy. I’m having you for dinner once I get my energy back.” Following those words, his tongue slathered my neck with drool on its approach towards my ear, moaning as he softly licked all around it. I knew he meant what he said and that this was just the initial tasting of his meal. But no matter how hard I fought to free myself from under him, I couldn’t budge an inch. I was helpless beneath his weight, letting him tease and savour me for as long as he wanted.

“It’s your own fault. If you weren’t so horny, you wouldn’t have come to see me first. Which was a BIG mistake when I’m this hungry, because now you’re all mine to enjoy!”

It seemed his appetite had finally taken control, as I felt his lips begin to wrap around my head from behind. Once my head was fully engulfed, he wrapped his arms around my chest and flipped onto his back, pulling me on top of his massive body. His powerful arms kept me restrained as he gulped and slowly guided my torso into his mouth. The man moaned as his tongue slid along my back and between my cheeks, tasting all of the sweat soaked into my skin and salty cum leaking from my hole.

A few more gulps was all it took for my legs and feet to slip down his slimy gullet, settling deep inside his belly with the rest of me. It was even more difficult to move inside his stomach than when I was pinned beneath it, the thick, spongy walls keeping me trapped in place as the gurgling noises of digestion started. The man jostled his bulging belly as it churned me up, smiling to himself as it got softer and sloshier as time went on.

[hoshinasblade]

lmao i couldn't decide between hoshina smut and hoshina angst so i chose both. there might be a part two to this, im not sure yet.

too late

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader trigger warnings: NSFW, MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT; a pinch of angst towards the end. likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated. my masterlist is in my pinned post.

midnight.

his hands, your mouth - drawing shapes, coaxing a roadmap out of goosebumps, tracing a way out of an invisible labyrinth; savouring heaven, partaking in the delectable flavor of desire; indulging in a forbidden delicacy of sensual gratification. naked and unhindered - demanding possession, trespassing territories, laying claim on each other's entirety. mumbling lewd suggestions like a prayer, drunk on a promise of nirvana - only the silence is the witness to your sinful communion.

the clouds in the sky had obscured the moon, not allowing even a sliver of light to pass through. the room is plagued with darkness but the two of you moved with grace - as if he'd memorized your contours and curves; as if you are a virtuoso in the art of pleasure; as if you had done this a hundred times before.

you had.

"i want you." he murmured in husky desperation - a request, almost a plea - teeth grazing on your collarbone, nipping gently, leaving hickeys in his wake. the oxygen must be thinning - he is out of breath - but he's combusting nonetheless: heat gathering in his core pushing to find release.

"then get me." a hint of teasing tainted your shaking voice as you disconnected from the trance of his stare. a naughty smirk loomed on your face, taunting him to go on, to take it further - a glint of mischief directed to him - a whole world of fantasies lurking behind the black of your irises.

"don't i already got you?" his question was an unsure declaration, and a wave of anxiety ran through you. a monosyllabic answer was held hostage as your subconscious panicked, and you wondered if he had finally seen through your facade - if he had already learned of the truth you tried to cover up with apathy and promiscuity.

you gasped an inhale of air when he suddenly squeezed your bare breast with his calloused palm. you keened against him, abandoning all logical thoughts, squirming below him. sliding away from your upper torso, he trailed a path down your belly before cupping the apex between your thighs.

shifting above you, he had his index finger along your opening, then as fast as it got there, he removed it. the wild look in his eyes screams for you: a siren call impossible to ignore - or deny. you live for these moments - when it is like everything has dissipated in a puff of smoke; when it is like you are the lone person in his sight; when it is like it's only you and him. in the following second, you watched him suck in his finger, tasting you on himself. you moaned.

"fuck me." it was not more than a whisper - a quiet music of dark words dedicated for him alone.

as if worshipping you, he lowered himself, doing another exploration on your lips. the collision was phenomenal - an avalanche of sensations too much to bear, a stream of stimulus craving for a response. he pulled back, flashing you a grin. "your wish is my command." an addictive rush of adrenaline flooded your veins, threatening to demolish your composure and sanity.

gripping his nape, he found your waist. putting a halt in your kiss, his forehead on yours, you couldn't help but to give a smile.

your touch had strayed on his arms when he dipped into you. you held onto him, eyes screwed shut. "you're - god." your muscles contracted around him; his length was fully buried within you. when the tension couldn't be endured anymore, he started to surge in and out - obeying the rhythm as old as time, the both of you slick with sweat.

"nah, my name's soshiro actually." his chuckle sounded of angel's - sweet to the ears and even amid intimacy, you laughed. your hips are in contact, creating fiction and you tilted a bit to accommodate him.

"is that a ploy to make me moan your name?" you asked him but he did not respond in words.

pressure building, lust intensifying - your legs bracketing him, his weight straddling you, pinning me down. syllables transformed into curses, and the calm turned into begging as his every thrust and withdrawal became more furious, more fervid, more forceful. "i'm yours," he chanted.

no. you're not. you never will be. your denial was drowned in a series of expletives, a string of unholy utterances - a pile of desperate grunts of encouragement.

accelerating his actions, plunging into you deeper, your back arching off the mattress, your body out of control, writhing as you chased your own peak.

"soshiro", you panted, your vision glued on his face as he brushed the strands of his bangs off his forehead. your insides were bursting with satisfaction, and with a slip of the tongue, you betrayed myself. "i love you."

he leaned into you and that's all it needed to make you a molten mess of cells screaming for more. he drove into you with no mercy, and you counted the throb of your pulse, your nails digging into his flesh.

hovering over the edge, jolts of electricity - sparks flying, he failed to suppress the soft cries and whimpers - profanities that included your name, wreaking havoc on your well-being.

"i'm -"

"i know." swallowing your admission in one gulp, he gave you a peck in the cheeks. he's losing his balance and -

"shit." white warmth poured on you as he groaned - shattered, his body taken over by violet shuddering. you came after, quaking and quivering, crumbling apart.

delirium.

he collapsed onto you - spent, tired, sated. he was so close; his heartbeat mingling with yours to form a harmony of thumping. his chest was still rising and falling when he rolled into the other side of the bed. you felt empty.

you knew what was next. the routine is to gather your wits - when the ocean has ebbed into ripples, when the flame has been reduced into cinders, drenched in shame or still intoxicated, one must leave.

soshiro surprised you by talking. "don't fall in love with me."

"too late", you replied.

taglist- @lavenderkita @octrellue-ren22 @Iaminvalid @chuuberrysworld @hoshina-shiro-universe @noble-17 @lilialover11 @isentsworld @darling-delilah @aruatsu @beebumbo @asheseiler @k0z3me

honorary tag to my bestie - @umafanfiqueiraqualquer who sent me hoshina art last night

[houndofsevenhells]

“Of Septons and Hounds” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — A recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now finds herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, develops a strange relationship with the fearsome Hound. As the ten year long summer comes to an end, she tries to fight for the man she really wants, while dodging her good-brother's schemes to see her wed yet another elderly lord.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is my first ever work in this fandom, I hope I did my favourite fearsome Hound justice. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone. Oh, and there’s also smut.

WORD COUNT — 3,391

Masterlist

The ten year long summer was coming to an end. I could feel it in my bones. Casterly Rock still stood tall and strong, as I suspected it would for another eight thousand years, but everything else around me was changing.

I was savouring a rare moment of peace and hid from the world in the alcove of the rose gardens. The round-petalled, sunset-coloured variety that grew here were my favourite, though of course the crimson ones planted at the very centre were the most magnificent. My good-brother Ser Damion once told me they were the pride and joy of Lady Joanna, and knowing his cousin Tywin I could certainly see why the gardeners worked so hard to keep these blooming all summer long.

As the recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now found herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, I hid in these gardens quite often–mostly to escape my good-brother’s schemes. One should hope his duties as the castellan of the Rock would have kept him busier…

I breathed deeply and felt my head swimming from the sweet scent of the roses. Somehow I knew the crimson ones smelled stronger as of late. I was sure they spoke of impending autumn winds. They had developed a startling, imposing scent that permeated almost the entirety of the gardens and it almost seemed like the flowers wanted to shine just one last time before they would inevitably wilt. Like the one last feast one would throw just before the first snowstorms.

“Well, then.” Suddenly, strong hands grasped my shoulders and I shot up from the bench I was resting on.

I was met with the half-burned face of Sandor Clegane; his ruined lips twisted in a mockery of a smile and his imposing frame blocking the sun from my view completely. 

“Oh. It’s you.” I was clearly relieved.

No less confused than before, Sandor took a step closer.

“Who did you think it was?” he asked. His voice was broken glass, crunching under infantry iron boots. 

“My brother,” I confessed easily. “He is getting fatter on his castellan purse, but is almost as tall as you, Ser Clegane.”

Immediately, Sandor snarled at the title, his grey eyes full of hate. But I stood there proudly, daring him to scold a high-born lady in public. I was riling him up and he knew it, but he let me all the same. 

“Come.” His command was short; an order a captain of the guard would throw at a fellow soldier.

“Is that any way to talk to a lady, Clegane?”

He said nothing to that, just sent me another angry look over his shoulder and then kept walking. I stifled a laugh.

Unlike all those other guards prancing around the Rock in their gold shiny armours, Sandor’s black ring mail and boiled leather seemed to be quelling the sunshine around him.

Unable to help myself, I followed him inside the castle.

His long legs carried him quite a distance further and soon enough I found myself trotting behind him like an ungraceful pony.

“Is that any way for a lady to walk?” he grumbled, though there was mirth in those angry eyes and I grinned as soon as I saw it.

“Is that a jape I hear, Clegane? By the gods, it–” But the rest of that remark died in my throat as he pulled me into a dark corridor that ended with a spiral staircase. He went down and again, I followed.

“Where are we?” I inquired.

“Underneath the barracks.” His rasping voice drifted up to me. Once more, he was leading.

“Lovely,” I sighed and then simply kept following.

At the end of the staircase, there was an old door with an even older-looking lock, to which Sandor for some inexplicable reason produced a rust-covered key. He unlocked the door and it soon became apparent he must have been the first one to do it in quite a while. It took a formidable power to open it at all. I looked at how his muscles bulged under the dark sleeves of his tunic and against my better judgement I did not stop looking until he caught me in the act. 

Without any niceties, Sandor took my hand and led me through the narrow passage, then firmly shut the door behind us; the rusty hinges straining under the task.

“I do appreciate the effort, Clegane, but if I should have to perish, I’d rather not do it under some aimless old stone that decides to drop on my head with–”

“You talk too much, woman.”

He grabbed me and soon my back was pressed against the cold stone wall. I did not necessarily mind. This was what I came there for; it was what I wanted and what Sandor kept giving me for the past year and a half.

I reached out blindly and when my hands found his face I pulled him closer for a kiss. He wouldn’t reciprocate at first, this much I knew, because such was our game. He would let me sense his humours and somehow through a simple touch and kiss I would read him like a book. I realised he would need it rough today and my body shivered with anticipation. I deepened the kiss and finally Sandor moved closer and started to unlace his breeches.

There was scarcely any light source in the old dungeon and I could barely see a thing. Regretful, giving my particular weakness for the sight of the man. Because Sandor was everything I could ever want from a man, even though he would never let me say it out loud. 

But the noose around my neck was tightening. With the summer ending and Her Grace slowly packing to move back to King’s Landing with the children, I knew the proper mourning period after my late husband’s passing was over. As I had no remaining male relatives, Ser Damion Lannister was in charge of any dowry my puny cousin Crakehall branch could offer. Soon, the evil beast that married my sister would force me to wed once more–undoubtedly to another evil beast of his choosing.

“You are shaking, my lady.” The familiar raspy voice brought me back. I sighed because I enjoyed him calling me a lady quite as much as he liked to be called “ser”.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Aye.” He reached under my skirts and I gasped once he pulled down my smallclothes. “So let me make you warmer.”

Another sigh turned into a moan when he put two fingers inside me and curled them. He was not being rough to be cruel, but because he knew I could not stand a slow and tedious prelude.

“So wet,” he rasped into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Were you thinking of me all day?”

I could not smell the wine on him this time and I enjoyed the thought that he wanted to experience me sober. I always liked it better when he was not drinking and I thought the incentive for him was that our time together would last longer.

“Actually no, I–” I exhaled and let out a surprised chuckle as he grabbed my thigh firmly to lift up my leg. I rested it against his hip and he added another finger inside me–this time more smoothly.

“Cease your prattling, woman,” he grunted. “Does the dark frighten you so much? Or the creature you find yourself in the dark with?”

I let out another moan as his teeth nibbled at my neck. 

The sensations were overwhelming. The stone wall was cold against my back, and the dank dungeon was not something I would call remotely romantic–it smelled of damp earth and rot, and to be truthful after a day of training in the yard, Sandor smelled no better.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see him sneering at me.

“Where in the seven hells are you?” He leaned in closer and as he replaced his fingers with his cock, I steadied myself by clutching his arms. “Because you sure ain’t here with me.”

“I am… thinking,” I whispered and it gave him a pretence to claim another kiss from my lips. 

He knew me too well; such was the consequence of two souls connecting the way we have been doing. At first our dalliance was just a mutual understanding–but now it expanded and grew like a root, and despite our better judgement, we started to get to know one another.

“Stop thinking so much, woman,” he grumbled, his voice surely hoarse from yelling at incompetent recruits through all of the morrow. “Look at me. Look at me.”

I finally looked up and saw the faint outline of his face. His eyes no longer resentful, now they glinted with lust. I smiled as I understood the object of that lust was me. 

“Go on then,” I mustered my best commanding tone and moaned as he squeezed my thigh harder in return.

The rough wall behind me, the strong arms I was clutching and Sandor’s hardness inside me all brought me back from whatever hell my mind had wandered to and I set my heart on the now. That is why we worked so well, I supposed. His roughness and my need for it paired together beautifully.

We were both close, I could feel it. Sandor let out a groan and I made myself tighten around him in response. I wished the moment could last longer, but I knew deep down all things that exist in darkness and privacy must one day come out to light.

I reached my peak first and nearly cried out–but Sandor was faster. He captured my lips in another harsh kiss, spilling inside me. I felt how his body tensed, pressed up against me. Still seeing stars, I let him release my leg back down, though I appreciated him still holding me close. I swore under my breath at how unsteady I felt and I heard Sandor chuckle. An oddly comforting thing, that disembodied rough chuckle in the dark. 

I pulled up my smallclothes and straightened my skirts, wincing at the mess that spilled from me. I did not care if his seed quickened, though. Thankfully I was no longer a maiden and knew my sums better than I used to. My monthly blood was still far away and I had more time to take precautions.

My release did make everything better, but I still was not finished with my game of teasing the bull.

“When was the last time you took a bath, Sandor?”

I could not really see it, but I knew his brows were tightly pinched together.

“Last week, I think. Why? Does this dog’s stink offend your ladyship?”

“No,” I chuckle. “Have no fear. I know who you are and I still enjoy your company.”

That, I gathered, stunned him more than a blow to the head could. I heard his clothes rustle. He was putting himself back in order, too.

“The smell of blood and sweat,” he grunted. “Some twisted tastes you have, woman.”

I put my hands in front of me and grabbed at his tunic to pull him closer. This time, he obeyed. I pressed myself against him and I could feel his breath quickening.

“Some twisted tastes, indeed,” I hummed and moved to rest my cheek against his chest. “But I wish we could go somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Casterly Rock.”

Somewhere far away from my sister’s husband, is what I truly wished to say and Sandor knew it well. I could feel him stirring uncomfortably, undoubtedly unsure what to say to that. I knew then that I let myself say too much.

“Well, we’ve got that. The two of us here, nice and private, as the lady commands.”

“Very amusing.”

“I do try.”

His hands moved from my backside then and I felt his fingers in my hair. True to the word he had once given, he was doing his best not to make too much of a mess of my braid. But I knew he liked my hair. He remarked on it often.

We were quiet then, just the two of us in that small dungeon under the barracks of Castle Casterly, and it was as close to peaceful as I have ever felt. I knew I was trying to hold on to this moment just a little bit longer, to somehow keep it from ending. 

To my surprise, it was Sandor that broke our silence this time:

“I do not want to let you go yet.”

I knew what it meant, for him to speak his mind like that. I was fast to answer so as not to keep him in suspension:

“Nor I you.”

I wanted to say more; to say I wished he were mine and mine alone. But that would be foolish. I knew it could never be. I started to trace soothing circles on his back instead; something I knew he enjoyed very much.

After a moment, he spoke again, though his voice was less hoarse now:

“And if I said… I am yours as you are mine?”

The pang of emotion in my chest was as pleasant as it was scary.

“I would say that is all I want.” I placed my palm against his scarred cheek and felt him lean into the touch. “I want you,” I assure him. “I do not wish to be away from you. I do not wish to be married to a lord or a hedge knight or the first drunk who wins against Damion at cards. I want…”

But then the moment faded away and Sandor brought us back to reality:

“What we want doesn’t matter.”

We have been here before, I realised. This was not the first time when both of us wanted the same, but neither believed we could truly take it.

“You know I am no knight. No lord. I’m just their creature, I’m the Hound.”

“Do not say that.”

“But that’s the truth,” he replied, his voice harsh and grating like knives on stone. “I have killed more men than I could even remember. I’m scarred and ugly and hard to look at. You would not be getting a man, you would be getting a beast.”

I knew what he was doing, what he was trying to do. But this time, somehow, I did not want to cower before my better judgement. Winter was coming and I was growing tired.

“Well, fortunately I am good with wild creatures,” I declared in my best lady-like tone. “If I could make your Stranger eat my apple offerings, I am certain you are no more work than that.”

He went silent and even in the dim lighting of the dungeon I could see the conflict in his face.

“Never had a woman like you, with manners and all. I was never meant for any court. If we give in, you’d be wed to a brute.”

I exhaled and decided then that if after a decade the seasons were changing, I deserved a change as well. I have decided then to break the spell of misfortune with a jape and took a step closer to sniff at his neck.

“Well, as your lady wife I could at least make you bathe more often. If that is not a credit to my taming skills, I do not know what would be.”

He laughed at that and even though his laughter would always be short-lived, I still took that as a victory.

“Fuck the court then, eh?” he said and gently held my face in his rough, calloused hands. 

“Fuck the court,” I said sternly, and I knew my swearing always took him by surprise, “and fuck their dances, and fuck their hedge knights. May they all dance themselves off the cliffs of Casterly Rock! And may Ser Damion die of a bloody flux. I hope it is painful.”

“Aye,” Sandor chuckled again and kissed the top of my head. “It is. But do not let them hear you cast your spells. I will do much, but I will not save you from a burning pyre.”

It would not matter if they burned me to ash tomorrow for true. Today I finally had hope.

“I want to be your wife,” I declared. “I want them all to know who protects me. I know you will protect me. They are all afraid of you and–”

“Look at me,” he ordered and I did so at once. “You say this… And you say this knowing what I am? Knowing why they are all afraid?”

“I do not care,” I replied, now close to tears from thinking he would not agree after all. “My good-brother is in charge of my money and in charge of me. I have nothing of my own, no reputation, no lands or keep. Truth be told, you are marrying down, Sandor.”

He laughed at that and I cherished the sound. I adored making the mask fall.

“You are taking advantage of me, woman, is that it?” he rasped, though now his voice lacked all that anger. He seemed almost happy.

“Yes, Sandor Clegane,” I grinned. “I have cast my spells and ensnared you in my power. All of our combined riches of one dragon and two stags shall get us as far as… The Trident, most likely. After that we shall both be whores, but we shall be very happy, indeed.”

“Careful, woman,” he snarled, though his eyes showed no anger.

“Pardon me, my lord.” I gave him my best curtsy.

That earned me a hard squeeze of my backside, but I had no regrets.

“Do you have no fears, then?” he rasped, his hand playing with my hair again. “None at all?”

“Well, I do not particularly care for spiders…”

“By the gods, woman! About me, I meant.”

“Then, no.” My grin grew wider. “You are many things, but you are not a monster, Sandor. I know I can believe your words if you say you would not hurt me.”

“Never.” He rushed to answer this and his hands immediately tightened around my waist. “But I will hurt anyone around you if I need to keep you safe. I will keep you safe, the rest of them can fucking burn.”

“Then I shall dance on the ashes,” I japed again, though my heart threatened to burst out of my chest from happiness. “Come then. Let us find some drunk Septon, I hear your Lord Tyrion knows a few.”

Sandor chuckled and took me by the hand to lead us out of the dungeon.

“He is your cousin.”

“Only by marriage. Remember, I am a Crakehall. Wild boars and lions are not exactly friendly.”

“And hounds are? You are mad.”

“You better wed me fast, then. Such a grand prospect shall not wait forever. But after that, I never want to see or hear the name ‘Lannister’ ever again. ”

We stopped on our way up the stairs and to my astonishment Sandor kissed me right then and there. He looked me in the eye, solemn as always, no doubt waiting for me to change my mind. But I would not. Not when he had shown me what happiness tasted like.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“This may be the most foolish thing I have ever done,” he grumbled. “And that’s saying something.”

I took his hands in mine and shook my head, smiling in a way I hoped was encouraging and not entirely deranged from joy. 

“I am the unreasonable one, Sandor. You shall be my reasonable husband that tames my wicked nature, remember?”

“Am I now?” He smirked. “So you do take me for a husband? I ain’t even civilised enough to know the… vows.”

“Neither does the Septon, if we get one drunk enough to agree to wed us.”

“Nothing will change your mind, then?”

“Nothing shall save you now from this predicament. The hounds are out, the boars are slain, the… I do seem to have run out of house sigils for my japes, but you do know my meaning, I hope?”

“Aye,” he said and this time he seemed to have believed me. “That I do, woman. Now, let us get you that Septon so that I can bed you long and proper.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I hear you write for tekken!!! So idk if ur okay with this but: Jin Kazama x fem reader post sex cuddles and sweet nothings XD

This man has a slutty waist, why am I a slut for a man with a slutty waist it’s not fair- anyways this is my first time writing for something like this, so if it comes off shit that’s why. 🦦

‘I wasn’t too rough was I?’ Was the first thing Jin asked whilst holding you firmly against his chest, his strong hands were splayed across your back and his fingers were on the verge of lulling you to sleep with their gently and soothing caresses.

‘Rough? No. Passionate and romantic? Absolutely but I wasn’t exactly complaining now was I.’ You teased with a hoarse voice that was slowly but surly recovering. You had to admit your were a little sore in places but it wasn’t like it was completely unpleasant to the point you’d have to say something about it.

After all you knew how seriously Jin took you and your safety that even if you did mention it, he’d be out of bed before you know it to find something to relieve your soreness whilst treating you like glass in the process; something you have got to help him unlearn because you knew you weren’t going to break under his touch but he didn’t.

Sweet as that might be, sometimes you just want to be held in the well defined arms of your beautiful man and soak in the aftermath together with nothing but the sound of your breathing for company.

‘I’m serious, you need to tell me if I’m ever going too far next time.’ Jin insisted as he looked down at you with a serious expression. ‘I don’t want to ever cause you harm…no matter the circumstance.’ You understood his fear but in that moment you couldn’t get it out of your head of how lucky you were to have someone as ethereal as Jin in your life as you reached a hand out to hold the side of his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

‘And I’m serious when I say that you could never hurt me Jin. I put my trust in you for a reason and you’ve never gave me a reason to regret that decision.’ You told him softly as you pulled him in close without waiting for him to say anything, just so that you could kiss him on the lips, melting at the sweetness of it as you weaved your lips between one another; savouring it at your own pace and committing it to memory so that you’d never forget the taste of his kiss. Something that you were starting to think was impossible because how could you possibly be made to forget a kiss as unique and enticing as Jin’s?

‘What did ever I do to deserve someone as beautiful, as kind and understanding as you after all I’ve done or will ever do afterwards this moment?’ Jin asked upon pulling away, tucking you even closer against him as though he was fearing that you’d be taken from him in that very moment. You traced shapes into his broad chest before planting a few quick kisses there before making yourself at home within the crook of his neck, nosing the skin there affectionately.

‘Just being you.’ You replied softly, moving a hand to play with his hair, hearing him hum in content. ‘It may not sound like much of a reason but to name just a single thing that I love about you should be illegal when I love you in your entirety.’ You added, feeling the need to let everything you’ve been keeping inside out while given the chance. You didn’t want to regret anything later on nor leave a single thing unsaid between the two of you. ‘Good and the bad because it wouldn’t be nearly as genuine a love if I only focused solely on your good traits. I wouldn’t be loving you authentically if I did.’ You concluded, feeling a weight finally remove itself from your chest.

‘Then I too want to love you as authentically as possible.’ Jin stated as though it was fact. ‘Allow me to love your flaws as I do the rest of you, frivolously and without a second thought, for you have opened me up the idea that love is anything but beautiful, that love is patient, kind and considerate of those who are a little more lenient to let themselves freely fall into it.’

Jin then rested his forehead against the top of your head, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, wanting to engrave this moment to memory in hopes of having something to look back at fondly. ‘You’ve shown me all of that and so much more that I don’t think I could possibly hope to repay you for all you’ve done for me but I can only try.’

You smiled as you began to close your eyes also, finally conceding to your body’s desire to fall fast asleep, though not before saying. ‘You already do Jin, you already do and I couldn’t be even more in love, if that’s even possible.’ You let out a sleepy chuckle and felt Jin gently kiss into your head.

‘I’m glad to hear that because you’ve made me a really, really happy man that I didn’t know I could even be.’ He mutters.

‘You deserve to be happy Jin, more then anyone.’ You sluggishly responded, kissing his neck.

[madame-fear]

ok but honestly like Dark!Lucerys with a stark reader, like instead of him going to storms end he went to winterfell and met cregans younger sister, he’s so obsessed with her, seeing her walk around with her direwolf, that soft smile she gives him whenever he walks past her. jesus kicking my feet rn holy shit

OMG YESSS TOTALLY. Oh my god, Dark!Lucerys drives my imagination wild, I think I will have to write a one shot about this eventually😩

The second Lucerys arrived to Winterfell on Arrax such as his mother requested him to do so in order to get more allies for the Black Team of House Targaryen, his eyes would immediatly be fixed on you, standing right by the side of your elder brother, Cregan Stark.

There is something about you that has simply stolen all of his entire concentration, and attention. Maybe it's your features, how your dark hair seems beautiful in the snowy, cold environment of Winterfell, or perhaps... The way you so gracefully smiled at him, and curtsied down as to politely greet him upon his arrival.

Seven Hells, the entirety of his stay in Winterfell, even if it's just for some hours, he can't take his hazel eyes off you. Though the feelings for you would grow very slowly yet surely, the intensity is still vividly felt growing inside of him whenever you speak to him with such a soothing voice, and every move of yours is soft and graceful.

With the passing of time, Lucerys would find excuses to go to Winterfell and talk to you, or even, have House Stark invited as a special guest in Dragonstone — going as far as offering you to stay for several days. Sometimes, to return the favour, you'd even offer House Targaryen to spend some days in Winterfell. And whenever one of your Houses stays several days in either Winterfell or Dragonstone? Please, that'll be when his obsession for you would be felt more fervidly.

At Winterfell, Lucerys would often try to follow you in a discreet manner. Perhaps would just stalk you just to see where will you be going just to later on 'casually' bump into you and talk — admiring every inch of your features, and savouring the memory it remains with him. And savouring the way your sweet scent invades the environment around him.

Whenever you're riding your direwolf, he'll be there; staring from afar. The way you have such an ease to deal with wolves and ride on top of them with such grace and beauty just makes him want to protect you even more, and have you all for himself. His hazel eyes would lurk around you, even if you don't notice him, but he's there — swooning over you, and just keeping more memories of you for himself. Don't be surprised if during one of those times he's gazing at you ride your direwolf he'll approach to talk to you, and hear that dulcet voice of yours.

Or when you're walking around and pass nearby him, you'll shoot him a kind smile, and rapidly gaze down in a certain timid manner down at the floor, still vastly grinning. And oh, when you do that... Please, you'll drive him mad.

Lucerys would just become your very own shadow. You'll notice, that with the passing of time that House Stark is with House Targaryen, he'll always somehow be near you, it doesn't matter where you are. You'll find him staring and smiling at you, bump into him in the library, strolling in the gardens of Dragonstone... Wherever, he'll strangely be there, always near you, discreetly lurking you.

And if someone has the audacity to flirt with you? Oh, things will become much, much more obsessive with a Dark!Lucerys. It doesn't matter whether it's his very own brother Jacaerys the one flirting with you, or someone else — you're his, and no one elses. He won't be afraid of interrupting the flirting, and using an excuse to drag you away from the situation, even if you're unaware he's doing that because Luke can't stand someone trying to get his darling's attention.

The mere thought of you being with someone else sickens him deeply, and sparks a certain thought and behaviour that is creepily obssesive, and possesive over you — not caring if he just has to drag you away from everyone in your life, but he can't risk losing your attention. Even, since his compulsive dark behaviour gets the best of him, he won't be afraid to be a bit more audacious and pull you into a dark corner where no one else is nearby, and just let you know that you are only his, and your beauty and absolute perfection is only for him to admire and cherish.

Only he will be the lucky one of getting to admire every inch of your skin, and receive every single display of affection from you. You are his one and only darling, his most beloved treasure. And he thanks the Seven for having brought into his life such perfection of a woman.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie

[kowaiitenshii]

[Sunkiller Lullaby Part Three]

Pairing: Darth Vader X Reader

Plot Summary: Finally, it’s time to enact your duties as Darth Vader’s personal attendant. What will happen as you accompany him in his everyday life? 

Warnings: Canon-level violence. Murder. Mentions of death. Mentions of alcohol. Alcohol consumption. Canon-divergent. Unburnt!Vader. Vader is his own warning. Descriptions of violence. Descriptions of injury. Descriptions of a wound. Reader is a former slave.  AFAB reader, feminine pronouns and descriptions used. Corruption. 18+ content to come in later chapters.

Words: 6k

A/N: First off, I want to say a HUGE thank you for all the love this fic has gotten. I had put off actually writing this for months, for fear that it wouldn’t make sense to others, or fear that no one would care to read it if I did. Just goes to show you, you’ll never know if you don’t try! Here is part three of this series, how many parts it will be in total; as of right now I’m unsure. But! I’m committed to writing this story out in its entirety, and I only hope you enjoy it!!

Part One // Part Two

Part III:

And then you wake up. 

Groggy, bleary-eyed and half awake, you groan in frustration. Of course you had to wake up, just when everything was beginning to get good. 

You can still feel the fluttering of the butterflies in your stomach and the ache of yearning in your chest as you stretch and slide out of bed. 

Sighing longingly, you decide to take a nice, hot shower before starting your day. 

You line the bottom of the shower with aromatic salts, deeply breathing in the steam in an effort to recenter yourself. The gentle caresses of the hot water wash away the leftover tension in your body, and you savour the feeling of it trickling over your skin in little rivers. 

Eventually to your dismay, the water begins to go cold. You begrudgingly start to towel off, examining your form in the mirror as you do so. Stepping closer as you dry your face and hair, you stop in your tracks when you notice that something is off. 

You lean closer into the mirror, peering at the point of interest. Your bottom lip is pinker than usual, almost like it’s slightly swollen. 

Your heart begins to beat faster, and as you pull down your bottom lip with quivering hands to examine the inner side, you swear it stops. 

A fine chill runs down your spine, your hairs stand on end when you see it. 

A small red mark on the inside of your lip. A bite mark. 

Your eyes go wide, and your hand drops from your lips thoughtlessly. You stare at your own reflection in terrified shock. 

How could that be possible? 

If it was all just a dream, then how could the effects carry over into the waking world? 

This question shakes you, leaving you locked within the confines of your own body, wrought with confusion. 

For a long moment, you simply stand there shaking, icy spears of dread piercing your chest. 

The only thing that finally snaps you out of your trance is the sound of familiar knocking at your chamber door. Realising you are still quite naked, you rush out into the main chamber of your suite. 

“One moment please!” you call out as you hurriedly begin throwing on the garments you had laid out the night prior. 

You almost regret your choice of clothes; the undress you chose is an obsidian black, low-cut, with long sleeves that drape over your arms and leave your shoulders exposed. The waist of the dress cinches in with ties in the back, and there are thigh high slits on either side of the skirt. You add an upper body harness for an additional touch of much needed stability, and you pray to the maker that the outfit is acceptable. You are rather nervous to wear a more revealing ensemble in front of your master, as if you had been a braver person when you picked it. 

That is, until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the rounded mirror of your vanity. The dress exposes you in all the right ways, while still maintaining an elegant sensibility. The fabric falls beautifully over your curves, and the harness hugs them in all the right places; sure to impress any who had the privilege of looking upon you. 

Finally, after brushing out your hair and deciding to leave it down, you call out for your droid friend to enter. 

“Come in!” you call. 

The droid enters promptly, carrying a silver platter loaded with your breakfast, and it pauses for a second when it sees you. 

“Looking lovely today, Madam!” it compliments you, bringing a smile to your lips. 

“Are you ready for your morning meal?” it offers politely.

Taking your place at the table, you nod. 

“Yes, please.” 

Admittedly, you aren’t very hungry this morning, your appetite soured by your recent discovery in the mirror. Picking at the morning’s selection of baked fruit pastries, sweet jams, and whipped creams, the droid takes notice. 

“Is everything to your liking, Madam?” it asks, cocking its head in curiosity. “I can bring you something more suited to your tastes if you find it lacking.” 

Blushing lightly, you shake your head, feeling a tinge of guilt for seeming ungrateful. 

“No, that won’t be necessary. Everything is perfectly delicious.” you reassure the kind droid. Everything is delicious, your mind is just stuck elsewhere.

“I just…” you pause, worrying your lip between your teeth as you try to find the right words, the droid looking at you with curiosity.

           “I had the strangest dream last night.” You admit in a hushed tone. 

The droid nods in understanding. 

“I am very sorry Milady.” it apologizes. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? I understand that dreams can be troubling for a great many humans.” It offers generously. 

You simply smile at the faithful droid, appreciating its support as you shake your head. 

“No, But I am thankful for your offer.” you reply, the droid nodding in acknowledgement before it begins to tidy up. 

The droid leaves with the clutter momentarily, before returning to report the day’s agenda. 

“Lord Vader would like you to meet with him.” the droid announces. “He has several negotiations with the Empire’s trade and resource unions scheduled today.” 

Nodding, you figure that discussing meetings with Lord Vader is much more palatable than nearly having a rock dropped on your head. 

“I’ll meet with him now.” you affirm. “In his quarters I presume?” 

The droid nods, holding its hands together politely.

“Yes, Milady. Shall we?” it asks, gesturing towards the open door. You nod in response, rising from your seat and allowing it to lead you to your master, as it always does. 

As you arrive, you can sense Vader’s dark and snaking presence imminent in the room beyond, tickling at the edges of your perception. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, before bidding your droid friend a goodbye and entering the room. 

Standing ominously in the center of the room, Vader observes you silently for a long moment as you approach. His gaze has a weight to it, and you can feel it roving over your body; sliding heavily over the curve of your chest, the cinch of the harness at your waist, the draping of the skirt over your hips. You can feel warmth spreading over your chest, your shoulders, your cheeks, but you stand straight despite the fear of offending Lord Vader with your choice of garments. 

“Good morning, my lord.” you greet him, bowing gracefully. 

“Morning, young one. The dress suits you.” is all he says in response, and you take it as a success, a smirk creeping across your lips. 

“Thank you, my lord. I had hoped that you might like it.” you say with a careful smile, feeling a measure of relief at his approval. 

Vader gives you a nod in response, and you stride over to meet him where he stands. 

You look up at the blank visage of his face, expectantly awaiting his command. Unwaveringly meeting your gaze, he begins. 

“I have several meetings for negotiations scheduled today.” he informs you, as the droid had. “You are going to accompany me.” he states.

Your eyebrows raise for a split second with pleasant surprise, accompanying your masters during meetings was nothing new; it would be easy. 

“As you wish, my lord.” you affirm in a steady tone and with a gracious smile. 

You have attended meetings with several of your masters in the past, and you know that the most you’ll be doing is listening to something mildly disinteresting for a few hours. Considering everything you’ve been through, this should be a breeze in comparison. 

All you have to do is sit around and look pretty. 

And that is something that comes quite naturally for you. 

Vader nods down at you before speaking again. 

“You will accompany me as an ambassador.” he explains, his mechanical voice bouncing off the walls at you. “It is my belief that your image will be of aid in gaining favour for the Empire.” He says, still staring down at you. 

His praise, his belief in you is a feeling completely new to you. 

For so long, you had been burdened by masters that saw you as sub-human, less than a person. You had attended meetings as an object, a trophy, never an ambassador. 

The realisation begins to dawn on you that your treatment under the Empire will go well beyond your expectations, and you are grateful in a sickly sort of way. 

How ironic it is, that a Sith Lord is the most gracious and generous master you’ve ever had.

Smiling up at Lord Vader, you bow once more. 

“Thank you, my Master.” 

He tips his head at you in acknowledgement of your thanks. 

“Your duties will simply be to accompany me, nothing more. I will handle the negotiations.” He says, his gaze never leaving you. 

So it was exactly as you thought. Your only job was to sit around and look pretty. A welcome relief. 

“An easy task, my lord.” you chime. “I will not fail you.” you promise him in full confidence. 

“I should hope not.” he booms simply, before pacing over to the window with you following close behind. 

It is then that you realise the ship has begun to descend upon the flight-deck of a snow covered planet. The sun reflecting off of the thick blanket of snow below is bright and blinding, hurting your eyes and forcing you to shield them as you look. There are skinny, evergreen trees that stretch out for miles around the sprawling fortress, and you suddenly realise that you are severely underdressed for the frigid weather. 

Snow falls in fat flakes over the landscape littered with greenery, and you can only hope that you’ll be spending most of your time inside. 

Wordlessly, Vader walks over to the long white couch you had dozed upon the night before, slipping his fingers into a notch on the underside and pulling out a long drawer. 

Ah, that’s why his couches are so much firmer. They double as storage. 

You watch curiously as he pulls out a heavy, fur-lined cloak and shakes the dust off of it before silently striding back over to you, coming to stand directly behind you with it in his hands. 

Feeling his dark, menacing presence right behind your back, you bristle with the anticipation of his movements. Even though you know now that he would not truly harm you, it’s still hard to shake that expectant, anxious feeling that swirls in your gut. 

Like a deer in the headlights, you stand still as he drapes the weighty cloak over your shoulders, his large gloved hands reaching around your neck to fasten the chain. You have to use great self restraint to not flinch when his fingertips brush against the exposed skin of your collarbone, even though the touch is feather-light, barely a whisper against the skin. 

The darkly coloured furs that line the cloak are thick and soft to the touch, warming you up nearly instantly. It’s much too long for you, dragging the ground behind you like an elegant train. 

Of course it’s too long, it’s Lord Vader’s very own cloak. 

“It seems you’ll be needing this.” he says, his deep, distorted voice quieter than usual. 

You blush, your eyes tracking him as he paces back in front of you. 

“One more thing.” Lord Vader adds, and you notice a plain, black box in his hands that you hadn’t seen him pull out. 

Brows furrowed in confusion and your heartbeat quickening, you watch as he opens the box and presents its contents to you. 

It is a dainty silver circlet crown, adorned with blood red drops of crystal. They sparkle invitingly in the light, and you look up at Lord Vader’s severe countenance in disbelief.

It is the most beautiful, the most extravagant item you have ever been presented with. 

Vader’s commanding, droning voice snaps you out of your daze. 

“A symbol of your status.” he explains, removing the glittering circlet from its box. 

“I will not have anyone mistaking you for a slave.” he says, gingerly placing the crown on your head. 

A symbol of your status. 

Status. 

Something you have been without for countless years. Something you have so badly wanted, something your heart had ached for, devoured itself for. To be recognized, to be seen as more than a mere object or tool for your master’s whims. 

So many emotions wash over you in waves, it's hard to keep track of them. Relief. Gratitude. Grief. Pain. It’s almost too much, your chin wobbling as you try desperately to maintain your dignified composure. 

Placing a hand to your heart, you bow to Lord Vader. 

“Thank you, my Master. Truly.” you whisper gratefully, meeting his unreadable gaze. 

He simply nods in response, taking a long moment just to look at you. You stare back at him with softened eyes, truly hoping he can sense the sincerity of your words. 

You can feel the jerk of the ship docking, and you know that it is time. 

Silently you follow your master through the blank white corridors of the ship, taking a few deep breaths to prepare yourself. 

These sorts of affairs are really just for show on your part, and playing a part is one of the things you do well. Accompanying a Sith Lord in anything is risky of course, but in this moment, you feel safe. 

As you disembark, there are Stormtroopers and pale, tall aliens roaming about everywhere. Two of the smooth-skinned aliens dressed in regal, draping layers of garments greet Lord Vader, then yourself. You bow respectively back to them, and they usher the two of you inside the fortress, along with an entourage of troopers. 

They chatter to Vader about their success with some increased production rates as they lead you to a large, conference type room. Holding your head high as you walk, you revel in the unfamiliar sense of power you feel. To be seen as an active part of a whole, to be treated as such. 

The room you’re led to is wide and dimly lit, adorned by lavish crystal chandeliers that hang from the ceiling. There is a long black table in the center of the room, lined with seats that are filled by your master along with several of the pale aliens. Lining the carpeted walls of the room are several long couches, and there is a plush, velveteen chaise lounge against the wall directly opposite the head of the table where Vader sits. 

You recline lithely on it, fixing your eyes upon the table and listening as the meeting begins. The dark-eyed aliens chat idly about stocks, production rates, exports, and all manner of boring business type jargon. You pass most of the time in your own head, lest you die of boredom. For once, it is useful to have so many things on your mind to mull over. 

Your tongue keeps worrying over the raw spot on the inside of your lip, and you come no closer to an answer for the bite mark’s existence. 

Yet, there it is. Existing.

 You know it’s real because you can taste the tang of iron every time your tongue flicks over it. 

Despite being inside, the air on this frigid planet remains chilled. You shift under the weight of Lord Vader’s furred cloak, placing it over your legs as a blanket. The furs are so thick and so soft, you gather they must be of very high quality.

Bringing an arm up absentmindedly and stroking the soft furs across your cheek, you realise it smells like Vader. 

It smells strongly of the leather of his armor, of musk, and of a spice almost like pepper. It is a palpable reminder that it belongs to him, that you belong to him; and it sets you on fire. 

Who better to belong to? As uncanny and questionable as it felt, Darth Vader has been the only one who had actually seemed to put any thought into your care. He housed you in the finest room, gifted you the finest garments, fed you with the most decadent feasts. He had even proven his adamant refusal to kill you. 

He even cared that you’d not be perceived as a slave. 

A change in your mindset is beginning, you aren’t sure how it started, but you know it’s happening. A change in how you view the imminent Sith Lord that is your master; and in turn, you have begun to see the Empire in a new light. It is true that all your life you have been told the Sith were treacherous murderers who hungered for nothing but power, but now you have begun to question the validity of those tales. While the strict brutality of the Empire and the Sith was true… you are morbidly curious about the underlying traits that your master holds within. 

As the negotiations carry on, they seem to be going well. Production rates, revenue, and stocks are all up. 

Good for your hosts, you think. Darth Vader will let them all leave alive. 

Another tall, grey-skinned alien slips into the room, much more modestly dressed and carrying a golden platter of deep-red glasses of wine, and you eye them hungrily. It had been ages since your last taste of the stuff. She flits quietly about the room, offering the drinks to your hosts and eventually landing upon you. 

She asks you something in a language you can’t understand, extending the tray towards you. 

Your eyes flick across the room to your master, and he gives you a barely perceivable tilt of his head in allowance. 

Smiling, you gladly take one of the large glasses from the tray, thanking your hostess before taking a sip. 

Your eyes slide shut with great satisfaction as you swallow, the coldness of the wine is refreshing; it tastes sweet with the depth of fermentation and the sharp zing of alcohol. 

It’s immediately warming as it hits your stomach, a flush tickling at your cheeks. 

You gather that must be why they serve it on such a painfully snow-barren planet. 

Sipping languidly at the rest of the glass, you fix your wandering gaze on Lord Vader. You haven’t had many opportunities in which you could just sit back and examine your master, so you choose to take full advantage of this one. 

He is seated, looming at the head of the table, and the aura of those that surround him is one of subservience. It’s fitting, as his countenance and airs that surround him are so fierce and so commanding. He sits in silence for the majority of the time, and when he does speak they hang on his every word. 

As you look upon him, you come to the comprehension that he is equally as entranced in looking upon you. 

It is a small detail, one that everyone else in the room seems to miss, but you know without a doubt that behind that mask he is staring back at you. 

Wishing he had been the one to serve you that wine. Wishing he would be the one to share it with you. 

The sensation of staring at each other is that of fingers reaching for another, that tingle of warmth just before the touch. 

Swirling the wine in your glass, you decide to work a little bit of your personal magic.

With your eyes half-lidded and maintaining eye contact, you slowly raise the crystalline glass to your lips. You take a long sip, savouring the taste and being sure to make a point of licking your lips, before fixing them into a relaxed pout. 

Vader tenses visibly as he watches, and you feel a great deal of satisfaction when he is the first to avert his eyes, forcing his attention back onto one of the speakers. 

It is your way of testing the waters with Darth Vader, and you know now that you hold at least some modicum of power over him. 

A while later the negotiations end, and all is well. 

The alien species agrees to increase their productions and exports of their materials to the Empire by fifteen percent, and Lord Vader seems pleased. 

What production and what exports, you did not care to know. 

Everyone rises from their seats, and you gather that is your cue to join Lord Vader where he stands. 

The group of aliens lead you back to the flight-deck, chattering their praise and thanks at both yourself and Lord Vader. 

The deck is now bustling with people and Stormtroopers, all gathered to watch as you disembark. As you walk behind your master to the extended ramp of his ship, you get a deep, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, which screams at you. 

Something is wrong. 

Something bad is about to happen. 

Time seems to slow, and your mind races. 

Inevitably, you act on those impulses which have been instilled in you; that is all you know to do.

 In an instant you leap in front of the turned back of Lord Vader as he enters the ship, successfully shielding him. Right then, a beam of hot plasma shot from a blaster knocks you clean off your feet, and Vader turns on his heel instantly. 

It hurts, Maker it hurts.

A fiery, searing pain spreads throughout the entire left side of your body as you lay on the cold ramp, and your head swims from it. The world fades in and out in black and white as the pain worsens with every pulse, until the inky blackness of unconsciousness consumes you. 

The last thing you hear is an anguished, savage roar tearing its way from Darth Vader’s throat. 

Fueled by anger, by the hatred of seeing your crumpled body laid on the floor, Vader shoots an arm out; instantly pinpointing the source of the blast and lifting the perpetrator out of the crowd in his invisible grip. 

A rebel in stolen Stormtrooper armor. A treacherous criminal. A fool. 

Without a second thought, he clenches his fist, revelling in the sickening sound of each and every bone in the perpetrator’s body snapping at once before allowing their lifeless body to hit the ground. 

It is what they deserve. 

With no care toward the opinion of others, Vader hastily gathers you into his arms before storming onto the Executor, the flight-deck erupting in screams and chaos behind him.

Ordering a commander to tell the captain to take off, he begins running with your limp body in his arms.

His heavy footsteps echo like thunder off of the sterile corridors surrounding him, and his breaths come quicker, but he does not hear them. 

The only things he can feel are the biting urgency to get you to safety, and his boiling anger.

Anger towards you, for being so careless, so foolish in trying to protect him, and anger at the Rebellion. Anger that you were hurt. Anger that the rebels would be so brazen in an attempt. 

Whatever he had planned for the rebels, he was now planning much worse. 

Frantically entering the key code for the door, he storms into his private chambers. 

With one arm he swipes everything off of his workbench, the objects crashing to the ground with a sharp sound that falls on deaf ears. He drags the worktable to the center of the room, before placing your lifeless body onto it, carefully cradling your head as he sets you down. 

Once you’re on the table, Vader looks over you as his chest heaves. It’s quite easy to spot the injury on the front of your left shoulder, dangerously close to the vulnerable parts of your chest. The blast had burned a hole straight through the heavy cloak you wore. 

He wastes no time in tearing his cloak off of your body, intensely focused on the task at hand. 

Making quick work of undressing you, he removes your harness and slips your left arm out of the sleeve, being careful to respect your modesty. 

Bare skin exposed, he examines the extent of your injuries. It is bad, there’s no doubting that. But thankfully, there is no exit wound. You aren’t bleeding, as the blast had melted through the cloak and cauterised the wound in the process. But the skin around the deep black mark left by the shot is dark red, and angry.

 He knows without a doubt that it is excruciatingly painful.

As he looks, an unfamiliar pit grows in his stomach. Not anger, no. Something else. Sorrow, remorse that you had been hurt.

He can feel the death of his peace of mind imminent on the horizon.

Why does he care?... A question for another time. 

Lightly pressing two fingers to your temple, he uses the Force to keep you unconscious. 

Not forever, just long enough to tend to you. 

Vader quickly paces into the room that houses his Bacta tank, gathering an arm full of medical supplies and pharmaceuticals. 

Laying them out next to you on the table, he gets to work. He painstakingly peels away every strip of burnt cloth, every piece of charred skin - lest it become infected. 

He checks your expression every so often, ensuring that you don’t awaken during the process. 

He sterilizes the angry lesion, then begins to dress it. As he covers your skin with gauzy bandages, he finally begins to come down. 

You were safe. He had kept you safe.

It was best not to waste his energy on worrying. 

He would make those who had done this to his very own possession pay. 

Carefully slipping your arm back into your sleeve, Darth Vader rises from his hunched position. 

All there is left to do now is to wait, and to plan. 

He and the Emperor would ensure their suffering. 

As Vader gazes down upon you, he seethes. Seethes at the thought that your smooth, powder-soft skin had been sullied. Seethes at the idea of anyone but himself causing you such pain, leaving such a scar. 

Yes. They shall suffer.

Vader spends a long while just watching over you, using the Force to keep a close eye on your vital signs. The blood flowing from your heart throughout the rest of your body, the oxygen flowing in and out of your lungs. 

Even then, as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the fluttering of your eyelids in your heavy slumber; He can still feel the ringing of the bells. 

That magnetic pull you have which drags him ever closer. 

Eyes snapping open and jolting upright, you nearly knock your head on Darth Vader’s helmet as he looms over you. An intense pang of pain stops you in your tracks, forcing you to wince and suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. 

“Easy, small one.” your master soothes, the sound of his voice gently bringing you back down to reality. You breathe heavily as the hot, pulsing pain flows back through you, and you glance around the room, your ragged body still reeling from the last moments you can remember. 

Immediately you recognize the sterile interior of Lord Vader’s chambers, your eyes tracking the mess littered about the floor. His tools, mechanisms, and machines lay discarded on the tile. Looking down at the table you’ve been sat upon, you realise it is Lord Vader’s own work table. 

He had thrown away everything so easily just for the sake of tending to you. 

Yet another uncharacteristic act carried out by your Master. 

In your dazed stupor, the scene is almost like a fairytale. 

You, the princess of the kingdom of evil. 

He, your knight in raven armor. 

Maybe. You think as you cautiously glance up at him. Maybe the rumours were not true; or perhaps this side of him was one that had been shown only to you. 

That could only mean then, that you were somehow special. 

“Are you alright, my Lord?” you ask, frantic eyes flitting over his ominous form for any signs of injury. 

“It is I who should be asking you.” Vader retorts. “What you did was reckless.” he says, a hint of scolding in his tone. 

Your head and shoulders drooping and your eyes falling to the floor, you feel ashamed.

“I am sorry, my Master.” you whisper. “I acted on impulsivities that still linger from my past. It is all I know.” you admit truthfully, your eyes locked on the ground and the fire of shame burning your cheeks. 

“It is my duty to ensure the safety of the both of us, not yours.” he asserts firmly, placing a heavy hand on your right shoulder. 

“It would take much more than a simple hit from a blaster to defeat me.” he says, a surprising hint of teasing in his voice, his other hand coming up and rapping on his shoulder plates with a repetitive thunk. 

It brings a tired smile to your lips, and you let out an amused huff. 

“I understand the truth of that now, my Master.” you jest, your eyebrows quirking up. 

There is a beat of heavy silence, and your eyes again fall to the floor cluttered with Lord Vader’s machinations. You feel a great deal of guilt at the sight of his possessions laying discarded everywhere all because of you. 

Slipping off of the table with difficulty, you begin to lean over to gather the pieces. 

Before your fingertips can even brush a single piece, Vader catches your wrist in a leather-clad hand. 

You stop in your tracks at the sensation of his grip as he pulls you upright, placing another firm hand against the small of your back to steady you. His touch at your back sends a fine shiver up your spine, and you feel far too close to Lord Vader for comfort.

Your heart rattles in your chest when he speaks again. 

“Let go of your past, girl.” he scolds. “I have droids for cleaning up after my messes. It is not your duty.” 

You’re unable to say anything in response, staring up at your Master with stars in your eyes. 

“I command you to rest.” Vader demands softly. “I did not labour over you just so you could reinjure yourself so quickly.” 

Feeling hazy, you give a faltering nod and swallow the tension in your throat. 

“I am relieving you for now.” he states, his voice rumbling through your body like shockwaves at this close vicinity.

“Retire to your suite for the night.” he orders, finally releasing you from his grasp. 

“Yes my Master,” you stammer, rubbing the wrist he had grabbed. “Thank you.” 

You shakily amble out of the room, your pace slowed by the pain and the thick exhaustion. Your trusty droid companion awaits you beyond the door, and it bows to you before throwing its arms up in shock at the sight of you. 

“Good heavens, Madam!” the droid exclaims. “Are you quite alright?!” 

Letting out a tired chuckle, you smile as you respond. 

“It is but a flesh wound, my friend.” you laugh. 

“Then we shall get you back to your chambers at once!” the droid declares. “Come! Come!” it urges you. 

You slowly follow your companion back to your suite, and all you can think about is the soft cradling of your bed, the slick silkiness of your sheets. 

As you enter the comfort of your suite, your legs feel as if they weigh hundreds of pounds while you drag yourself to bed. The kind droid brings you a hot cup of herbal tea before leaving you to rest, and you slowly sink onto your back in the middle of your mattress, letting out a sigh of relief as your body settles into it.

As exhausted as your body feels, your mind is wide awake with a thousand thoughts. 

Today was just so much. 

The dream. Your lip. Even just the meeting and everything surrounding it was a lot to unpack. The attack. The fact Vader had tended to you personally. 

Your mind swam with questions, with the acute newness of everything. At the same time, the aching of your shoulder and the soothing warmth of the tea was working to wind you down. 

After a while, the droid returns with a meal on an ornate bed tray, and it isn’t until you smell its heavenly aroma that you feel the churn of hunger in your stomach. 

“I’ve come with your supper and an announcement, Milady.” the droid chimes, allowing you to adjust yourself before it places the large tray over your lap. 

Your dinner is a hearty spread, consisting of a meaty soup with wide noodles in a clear broth topped with fresh herbs, a side of lightly sauteed greens, and freshly baked rolls. You marvel at it for a moment with your mouth watering before turning your attention back to the droid. 

“Due to the increasing boldness of the Rebellion, Lord Vader has deemed it necessary for a Sith Lord to attend you during the night.” the droid announces. “He refuses to have any further chances of your safety being endangered.” 

All of a sudden, your mouth goes dry. The last thing you needed was a Sith Lord watching your every move in the night; but you knew Lord Vader was being completely serious, and his word is final. 

You understand now, that he will stop at nothing to defend something - or someone - that was his. 

Letting out a soft sigh through your nose, you take in a deep breath. 

“Then so it shall be.” you concede, and the droid nods in response. 

“Splendid. I shall retrieve your guardian once you are finished with your meal, Milady.” the droid says with a bow before leaving you to your dinner. 

You wolf the food down with great voracity, thoroughly enjoying the much needed nourishment before dusting yourself off and walking the empty tray over to the table. 

You decide that if you are going to have a visitor, you are going to be presentable at the very least. 

Swiftly you change into a new set of sleeping robes, sighing happily at the comfort of the clean fabric. You hobble over to your vanity, taking a seat on the velvet-cushioned stool and looking at yourself in the rounded mirror. Of course, you look tired, although thankfully you didn’t look as bad as you felt. Your hair is mussy from the commotion, flyaways sticking out every which way. 

You get to work detangling it, being careful to brush with the uninjured arm. As you finish putting it into a messy updo, allowing stray locks of hair to remain loose, a familiar knock comes at the door. 

You feel your anxiety spike like shards of ice in your gut, knowing what awaits you beyond the threshold. 

As the door slides open and the droid and the Sith Lord enter, you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning. 

Even beneath the dark cloak that shrouds his figure, his form is unmistakable, and you recognize him instantly. 

It’s him.

The one you dreamed of. The same figure. The same piercing eyes. You can even spot his scar in the dim light. 

Your ears ring.

It feels like your heart stops. 

And before you know it, you faint. 

Sith Divider Credz: @saradika

Taglist: @heyitsaloy @poisonedsultana @cryptidsrcool @mayhemories @sxoulchvn

@shyartisanvoidwagon @stxrrielle @jasontoddloml @heirtothekingdom @briqueenofthenorth

[fortheloveofarchons]

You help Pierro with a bath...

C.W. Bathtub s3x, bathroom s3x, m@sturb@tion in bathroom, possessive behaviour, possessive s3x, fingering, cunnilingus, and aftercare

Full version is on my Ao3! Kudos and comments are much appreciated!!!

.

.

.

Help me out here, would you?”

It’s been a long day for the Director of the Fatui Harbinger, and all he needs in this harsh winter of Snezhnaya is a warm bath. Supposedly, all you had to do was to prepare a bath for him– making sure the temperature is right, prepping some bathroom essentials, pouring some scented essential oil into the bathwater, and occasionally adding in some flower petals… 

Just because.

And you would leave the moment he steps into the bathroom. But this time, he grabs you by the arm, whispering words into your ear. 

“Stay. That’s an order. ”

You blink. Once, twice, before snapping to the present moment. Your Lord Pierro is right in front of you, where he’s slowly undressing himself, layers of coat dropping to the ground. While the tap continues to pour the hot steamy water, your mouth opens ajar from seeing his physique. His body, weathered by time with battle scars, is slowly revealed in front of you. 

His sinewy muscles ripple beneath his skin, and he proceeds to remove his belt. You quickly turn around, covering your cheeks with your hands, your ears gradually burning hot like the temperature of the bath water. You could still recall the metallic clink of his belt echoing softly in the bathroom. The leather belt slides through the loops with a fluid ease, a routine he performed countless times. His pants, snugly fit, follow suit, pooling at his feet. 

…Finally, he removes his briefs with a sense of ease, unveiling the entirety of his mature physique. 

You could hear the rustle of the last fabric falling to the ground. 

Soon, you could hear him reclining in the bathtub, the water caressing his skin, a bit of the water poured out from the bathtub due to his weight. The room is filled with a tranquil ambiance, punctuated only by the occasional sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub.

“If… If that’s all my Lord, I will be taking my leave–” 

“Turn. Around.” He orders. “Now.”  

You slowly turn your body to face him, your hands still covering your face. You open your hands to see him sitting in the bathtub relaxingly. The water reveals the contours of his well-maintained muscles, a testament to a life of battles and vitality. Steam rises from the surface, adding an ethereal quality to the scene. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay?”

“Well, yes. But–” 

“Now,” The soft lighting casts a play of shadows on his features, accentuating the lines and contours on his face. “Wash my back for me, will you?”  

“I… Yes, my Lord.” 

His demeanour exudes a calm satisfaction, and the relaxation in his posture reflects the release of the day's tensions. 

Holding a washcloth, you dip it into soapy lather, the scent of a mild, soothing soapy smell mingling with the steam. Before you could wash his back, your hands are shaky, and your heart is racing. 

With a shaky sigh escaping your lips, you begin to wash his back, your touch is like a blend of gentleness and hesitation.

He closes his eyes, savouring the solitude and the sensation of warm water soothing tired muscles, and your gentle wash on his back. The rhythmic scrub from your washing  becomes a gentle backdrop to the ambient sounds of the bath. As you get to scrubbing his lower back, your thoughts clash each other in your mind.....

[nyssaswitch]

Pool Party with the Barca Boys

Chapter 3

Frenkie’s POV

Everyone on the team knew that Gavi had an insanely beautiful sister, in fact, she was often a topic of conversation in the locker room.

Every time she came to visit Gavi, all eyes would be on her - though, I hoped it wasn’t that obvious - .

Luckily she had an Instagram account, with plenty of bikini pics and sensual photos on her feed.

I wasn’t afraid to admit that I’d used them many times to get off.

I couldn’t help it, Y/N simply had a killer body and using Y/N’s pictures to get off, always made for the best solo sessions.

Just thinking about the last time, I’d viewed her Instagram, made my cock twitch.

It was on a Friday night and I’d gotten a notification, that Y/N had posted.

I picked up my phone and gulped, it was a carousel with multiple bikini pics, showcasing her cleavage and beautiful ass.

I let my hand trail down my pants, letting it rest on my crotch, as I felt a bulge forming.

Once I was rock hard, I pulled my cock out and slowly started stroking with two fingers, edging myself.

I thought of laying Y/N down on the bed, while she was wearing the same bikini, that she was wearing in the photo, undoing her bikini top and pulling it off of her, imagining what her breasts would look like.

Her breasts sprung free, looking full round and luscious.

Now that her top was off, I wriggled her bottoms off, Y/N lifted her hips, to make the motion easier for me.

Finally I could see her body in its entirety.

The mental image was almost too much for me and nearly pushed me over the edge.

In my mind, I stood over Y/N, as I delivered the final blow, thick ropes of cum shooting out of me, covering her body in white sticky white fluid.

I moaned and threw my head back, as I felt my muscles spasming.

Now that I finally had the pleasure of seeing Y/N’s exquisite body in the flesh, I didn’t know how to act.

Seeing her in that skimpy bikini caused me to be bricked up, most of the time, I had to be careful that my boner wasn’t visible in my swim trunks.

My balls were growing heavier by the second and I excused myself as I slipped off.

I found my way to the guest bedroom, lay down and lowered my trousers.

My cock sprung free, with precum already attached to the tip.

I rubbed the head as I watched trickles of precum flowing down my shaft.

Fuck, she always got me so hard.

I bit my lip and forced myself to slow down my strokes, since I wanted to savour this moment.

I was so deeply entranced, that I didn’t notice the door opening.

I opened my eyes lazily and gazed towards the door, only to find Y/N standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and staring at me.

I blushed and scurried to put my pants back on.

Y/N took a few steps and sat down on the bed.

“Don’t be ashamed”, she said.

She placed a soft kiss on my lips and sat behind me on the bed.

“What were you thinking about?”, she whispered into my ear.

“I, I can’t tell you”, I gulped.

“Was it me?”, she asked, as she ran her hands up and down my arms.

“Yes”, I admitted shyly.

“Hmm, that’s hot”, she whimpered.

“Tell me what you fantasize about”.

“You in a bikini, your Instagram pictures are amazing”, I said in a raspy voice.

“I’m glad you liked them”, Y/N said with a chuckle.

“That bikini you’re wearing today got me so hard”.

“That was my intention”, Y/N said seductively.

“Let me help you finish what you started”.

Her hand made her way to my crotch and slid into my pants, massaging me up and down.

“Fuck Y/N”, I groaned.

It didn’t take long for me to get hard again.

“Your hand feels so good wrapped around me baby”.

Y/N continued her gentle assault, until the veins on my cock started to become very pronounced.

“Ahh, Y/N stop”, I don’t wanna cum yet.

Her hand left my cock, instantly missing her warm embrace.

“Can I see your boobs, please? And maybe your ass?” I pleaded.

“Hmm, now why would I do that?” She said teasingly.

“Oh please, you don’t know how often I’ve dreamt of this moment”.

“Go on”, she said.

“Today has been so hard for me, seeing you in that bikini, I was hard nearly the entire time”.

“Go on”.

“I need you so fucking bad, I wanna see what you look like, not having to make do with my imagination”, I pleaded.

“Good boy, that’s what I like to hear”, she said, while letting her bikini top fall to the floor.

My eyes grew wide and my breath hitched as I could now see her perfect breasts.

“They’re perfect,” I said.

“I know”, she said with a knowing smile.

“Could you take off your bottoms as well?”, I asked eagerly.

“No, you’re far too greedy for my liking”.

“God you’re such a tease”, I said.

“You know you love it”, she responded.

“Don’t worry, I”ll let you cum today”, she said with a wink.

“Stand up Frenkie” she said in a commanding tone.

I did as I was told, awaiting further instructions.

“I want you to tell me when you’re close, so you can cum all over my face”, she said.

“Now you can stare at my tits all you want”, she said mischievously.

I nodded.

“Do you want me to lick your cock?” She asked.

I nodded.

“I can’t hear you baby, use your words”.

Y/N, please suck my cock.

“Then you’re in luck”, she said.

She slowly started licking my shaft, up and down, without taking me in my mouth fully.

After a while she started licking the tip, circling it with her tongue.

“How’s that?” She asked.

“So good”, I said hoarsely.

Y/N continued to masterfully keep me on the edge, by hitting the tip with short and fast licks.

“Y/N, please stop teasing, I need more”, I groaned.

“But edging you is so much fun”, she pouted.

Please, Y/N, this is torture, make it stop.

“Oh, you’d rather I leave?”, she asked.

“No!”, I exclaimed.

“Alright, then, I”ll stay, but no more questioning my methods,” she said.

“I didn’t hear you say yes mistress”.

“Yes mistress”.

“Now we’re talking,” she said.

I watched as Y/N wrapped her mouth around me and went all the way up and down in an agonizingly slow pace.

I felt her mouth gliding over every sensitive little spot.

But it wasn’t enough, I wanted fast movements, but Y/N was going at a snail’s pace.

And after five minutes of nibbling, I grabbed Y/N’s hair, pulled her off of my cock and whimpered “baby, I’m gonna cum”.

Y/N took my cock and loosely wrapped three fingers around it, before starting to stroke.

I ‘d been so close before, that it didn’t take long for me, to reach the edge again.

“I’m gonna cum”, I blurted out.

As soon as those words slipped out of my mouth, Y/N let go of my cock, as I hopelessly watched it bobbing up and down, ropes of cum trickling out.

It was the most frustrating thing I’d ever felt, yes it felt good, but not as good as a regular orgasm would’ve felt.

Y/N looked up at me with innocent eyes and opened her mouth, to swallow my cum.

“What a beautiful ruin”, she said tauntingly.

“Let’s clean up your cock”, she said as she wiped a sliver of cum from my cock with her index finger. She put it in her mouth and said “ruined cum always tastes so much better, don’t you think”.

Hmm, I groaned in disagreement.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure, we”ll be able to play again, very soon” she said.

“Let’s put your swim trunks back on”, she said.

After I’d put them on, she glanced at my crotch and smirked, “poor boy, you’re still hard, no relief for you today huh?”

I felt the words go straight to my core.

She pushed me onto the bed and started grinding against my cock, causing me to instantly become hard again.

“Hmm, how you wish you could be inside of me, instead of dry humping”, she said.

Oh, yes, yes please, I exclaimed.

“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day”, she said.

She stood up and made her way to the door.

Before she left the room she turned around and said “oh and Frenkie, make sure to take care of that boner, before you go out”.

[humanitysstrongestsoldier1]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑 | 𝑈. 𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐸𝑁 x Reader|Pt. 2

TW: manipulation, explicit sexual content, yandere, stalking

AO3 LINK!!!!

PART ONE!!!

Notes: ehehehehehe, gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

______________

(3 months later)

"Tengen! You have to eat something, please!" (Name) exclaimed to him, as he sat on the veranda of the Uzui Mansion. He had been sitting there almost every day, trying to reimagine his memories with his wives. But every time he did, he would remember the bloodbath that happened three months earlier. Luckily, (Name) had ordered the discardment of most of the belongings of his wives, so he wouldn't break down every time.

(Name) moved in with him and had permission from Oyakata-sama and Rengoku to do so. He needed support so he wouldn't fall into an abyss. (Name) took this opportunity to get even closer to him. Taking care of him, holding him as he cried, taking him to bed, and feeding him. She was devoted to her god. He saved her, so now it's her turn to save him. Her plan of making him fall in love with her was slowly working.

"I will, I promise." He quietly responded.

She sighed, standing behind his sitting form. "You said that last time too. Get up. I made your favourite, fugu sashimi. I know you like it made by my hand."

His ears perked up at the sound of his favourite food, and he stood up, following her inside to the dining area. He sat down at the empty table, which used to be full, and looked at (Name), who walked over, bringing a plate with the food. She placed it in front of him and returned to the kitchen to clean up. Tengen dug in, and sighed at the taste. She had made it for him before at the corps HQ and since that day, he has only loved it made by her hands.

He savoured the dish and looked at (Name), who was putting some utensils up. At first he felt horrible for making (Name) go out on missions and also care for him, but she reassured him that she was returning the favour of him saving her life. She walked over and gently smiled at the empty plate, content with his eating. She walked over to the sink, did the dishes, and hummed her song. As she was focused on cleaning, she didn't notice Tengen, who had crept up behind her. He grasped her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Tengen?" She asked, worried about his behaviour.

"Shh. Let me hold you." Tengen whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. "Thank you. For being here. For taking care of my worthless ass."

(Name) finished washing the dishes and drying her hands before turning to him and saying, "You are far from worthless. You are worth everything to me. You are my soul, Tengen. Don’t you dare condemn yourself. Take all the time you need to heal; I will wait patiently. I will hold you in your darkest hours. I have devoted myself to you; I'm not leaving."

Tengen’s eyes widened and brightened at her words. He realised that she had never left him and that she had truly saved him from the darkness. Without her, he would have probably fallen into an ocean of despair. His eyes trailed across her face, which was laced with concern and adoration. Her eyebrows scrunched at his silence, so she tried to speak. But before she could, he bent down to her level, and his lips smashed against hers.

He pulled her closer by the waist and felt her warmth radiating onto him. In contact with his own, her lips were pillowy, soft, almost silken. As they breathed each other in, he felt a gentle tingle from her breath tickling his nose. His hands brushed through her hair. Their bodies pressed together heatedly, breathing heavily as their lips moulded together. Warmth bloomed in (Name’s) chest, sparks igniting as Tengen lifted her and placed her on the counter. He took the entirety of her in. The smell of her perfume, the soft, flowery scent of her conditioner, the sliver of skin under her shirt. He took it all in. (Name’s) arms wrapped behind Tengen’s neck, pulling him even closer. They stayed like this for what seemed like hours until they pulled away, breathing heavily.

"Too fast?" Tengen asked, smiling at her flushed expression.

(Name) blinked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "No, just perfect. You're improving day by day. Even if you are using me to get your frustrations out."

Tengen stood between her legs, grasping her chin in his large hand. "I would never. I was just too damn slow to realise that you fucking love me. Too slow to realise that I may feel the same way. Too slow to realise that this time, you saved me."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and they fell down her cheeks.

He loves me. Loves me. H̷̢̞͈̜̝̠̘̆̑̀é̸̡̗͓͓̪͓̘̈́̕ ̴͙͚̦̻͚̯͇̙̃͗̊̾̋̃͛͗͋̕͜l̸̩͔̂̀̂̈́̐̔̎͆̏̕͠ö̴̡̡͉̯̪͙̖́v̶̳̒́͐̍̿̇ę̷̛̗͓̰̰͖̻̒͂̑̀̅̀̕͘s̸͍͈̮̰̥̗̒͑̆͗̐̾͝ͅ ̸̢̡̞̪̹͎͕͒͝m̶̢͚̪͙̝̜̯͍̯̰̅͆̄̈́̿͒ͅe̸̛̼̘͔̥̟̼͍̎̄̃̓̃̚̕͝ͅ.̶̘̜̣͎̲̞̏̂ ̷̧̧̖͓̯͗̅̋̓͋̓̕͜͝Ļ̵̤͉̝̱̿͊̄̎ͅơ̶̞̬͙͎͆͂͝v̶̧̰͔̰̱̩̮̺̲̬̊̆̊ȇ̸͕͆̀̓̎͝s̶͍̘͓̬̙̜̄̍̍̉ ̵̞̎͜ͅͅm̵̨̈́͆̒͂̚ē̸̡̺̤͉͙̈́̽̔̆͋͜.̵̻́̈́̋̊̾̓͋̑̚͝ ̸̭̬̬̈́̂̚L̴̢͚͔̪̥͉̻̳̈́̑̌̀̏̆̍̔̚͠ọ̷̬̲̞̹͆̀̾̉̔̒͘͘v̵̙̗̟̫͚̰͆̈́̈́͌e̶̛͔͔̳̺͖͒̐̋̃̃̚͠s̵̡̭͈̦̲͚̦̱̽̆̊̏̈́̏̐̒̋ ̸̡͚̞̦̯͖̱̞̥̃́̏̑̓̕͝ṃ̶̛͔̗͖͈̺̘̞̿̀̃̂e̶̥͊́.̸̱͓̜̾̈́̓̈̈́́̆͂̚̕̚ ̶̧͓̩̟̓͐̍͊͒̿̑̕̚͝͝L̸̯͔̘̯̒̓̕ó̴̡̟̱̉͌̏̀͂̀̎̒̚v̸̮͍̮͔̜̼̳̟̖̦̇̋̆͊̾̈́̔̌͠è̵̞̹͙̹͝s̵̘͈̔̾̈̓̔͝ ̶̣̪̪̞͕͈͕͕̮̈́̑͑̓̽ͅm̶̺͍͈̝͙̬̏̀̃̌́̓̔͘e̵̡̫̘̖̤͙͚̩̓̏̀.̵̼͔͍̆̆̈́̇̚ͅ ̴̦̹̍̀̌ͅĻ̵̡͙̝͕̳̠̹̹̟̋͗̉͝o̸̧̞̣͚̘̼̫͔͗̇̽̈̀͠͝ͅv̷̨̯̤̯̞͍̦̲̘̥͕̈́̍͝é̴̡̛̺̟̪͖̤͔͓̝͂̊͜ͅş̶̧̰͉͎̦̮̝̲̖̏̃͌̃̽̋͂̀̀͛ͅ ̵̪̼̠̯͖̋͒͂̈́͐͗̀̒̕͠͝m̴̢̗̳̄̽̎͆̕͝e̸̛̥͍̯͜.̸̻͍̠̜̚. The flower was right!

The secret admirer had followed her to the mansion and had started leaving the sunset-coloured roses there too. So she used them to pass the time. ‘He loves me. He loves me, not’ Her everyday game. And it would always end with ‘He loves me.’ And fate seemed to prove itself at that moment.

"I do. I do love you. I don’t expect you to give yourself to me right now. I will wait for you until the end of time, if so be it. No one will break us apart. No one." She replied, her tears blurring her eyes.

His gentle hands wiped them away from her cheeks, "In due time. The gods will bind our fate. You have my word, (Name). But for today, let me have you. Let me take care of you. Let me love you."

She had done it. She had made him hers. After months of work. He was hers. And no one would dare say otherwise. The two of them basked in each other's glory for the day. Their lips touched. Their bare skin on each other. His fingers caressed her warmth. His tongue was spelling his name out. His cock was buried in her sopping cunt. His head was hidden in her neck, his voice groaning after every thrust.

This is how she wanted it. The two of them. Together. With no one in their way.

They say that, when you first fall in love, there is attraction. Attraction turns into a bond. A bond, which becomes the colour of love. Love, whose foundation is trust. Trust, which is deeper than devotion. Devotion, that has madness in it. And madness, which leads to death. But for her, that madness would just lead to an unyielding obsession with her saviour. And not even God could stop her limitless love for him.

(1 year later)

A whole year of waiting led to this day. He will finally be mine. The gods stand as judges and the stars stand witness.

(Name) thought, looking into the mirror as Mitsuri and Shinobu did her hair and makeup.

"I’m so happy for you (Name)-chan. You and Uzui-san are meant for each other. And you look like a goddess in this kimono!" Mitsuri preached, joining the two braids with a star clip to the back of her head. She combed through the bottom half, fluffing the curls.

Shinobu finished her final touches and agreed, saying, "I knew it would happen sooner or later. He saved you. You saved him. Your destinies are intertwined."

(Name) glanced at the two of them, smiling, and said, "I can't thank you enough. I appreciate you so much for helping me get ready today."

"You're our friend! And it's your special day. We will always be ready to witness your happiness. I can’t wait to get married to a hero too! You will be there, right?" Mitsuri announced.

"Of course! Like you said, we are friends. And when that time comes, I’ll be the one making you look even more beautiful than you already do."

Mitsuri gasped and hugged her, and (Name) hugged her back. Looking at Shinobu, she beckoned her to join in. The three of them embraced each other until a knock echoed throughout the room. Shinobu bellowed for the stranger to come in, and a head of yellow-red hair peeked in.

Rengoku stepped in and took a long look at (Name) and smiled, saying, "You look breathtaking, Starfire."

(Name) smiled, walking up to him and giving him a tight hug. "Thank you, Kyojurou. And thank you again for walking me down."

"Of course!" Rengoku proclaimed, pulling away and kissing her forehead. He brought his hand out, and she grasped it, walking out of the room with Mitsuri and Shinobu following behind.

They all walked to the shrine, ready to take part in a huge celebration. Mitsuri and Shinobu joined the guests, and Rengoku walked her over to Tengen. Whose eyes were sparkling at the sight of (Name). Rengoku kissed her cheek and wished her good luck before joining the guests as well.

Tengen, who stood in front of her, grasped her trembling hands and whispered, "You look like a goddess." She smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him.

The priest walked over and began the ceremony. 

They performed the purification rite (Shubatsu 修祓) first, in which all in attendance stood and bowed to be symbolically purified. 

Next, they performed the prayer (Norito-sojo 祝詞奏上) in which the Shinto priest announces the marriage of the bridal couple to the shrine altar, and all in attendance stand and bow.

The third was the beginning of the most important parts. The exchange of sake (San San Kudo 三々九度). The priest held the tray with the sake, and the two of them took turns sipping three times from cups of three sizes: small, medium, and large (The first two times, the cup is raised to one’s lips. The sake is only drunk at the third sip.)

After they were done, Tengen and (Name) approached the true altar and spoke their wedding vows with large voices (Seishi Sodoku 誓詞奏読).

The next ritual was to represent the safe end of the ceremony, (Tamagushi Hoten 新郎新婦玉串奉奠). The couple received the sakaki branch from the shrine maiden and placed it at the altar. Tengen and (Name) bowed twice and clapped twice.

The last ritual was the exchanging of rings (Yubi-wa Kokan 指輪の交換). Tengen slipped on a beautiful ring that had an intricate design of a diamond in the middle and a twisted band that had small rubies in it. (Name) did the same to him; his ring was similar to hers. A simple ring with small diamonds in the middle and two ruby bands on each end. The crowd consumed the shrine with claps and yells of happiness.

The two of them grasped each other's hands and turned to them, smiling and waving. (Name) looked at Rengoku, who seemed unfazed until he noticed her glancing at him. He immediately smiled and laughed heavily, but the laugh seemed to be missing something…

They both headed towards the guests, chatting and exchanging hugs. Congratulations were heard all around the room for many minutes as they met everyone. Oyakata-sama also blessed the two of them with a prosperous marriage. As they both walked out of the shrine, they were met with a setting sun and a shining Venus, who watched over them, overseeing their bond.

(Timeskip- 7 Months Later)

Tengen was happier than ever. He was back as a flamboyant demon slayer with (Name) by his side, fighting with him. The two of them were a sight to behold: the shinobi and his goddess. Their match was known throughout the corps. But a certain admirer still didn't stop dropping flowers by the mansion. Fortunately, (Name) bore with it and ended up planting them out in the garden. Tengen was coming back to the Uzui mansion from an important mission, excited to see (Name). As he entered the home, the smell of ramen broth hit his nose, and he sighed, happy to be home.

"I’m home!" Tengen yelled out in the open.

"Welcome back, my love!" A gentle voice bellowed out to him from the kitchen.

Tengen walked into the kitchen and met a pregnant (Name), who walked up to him and gave him a kiss. 

"Babe, you are glowing! Lookin all ravishing for me today?" He purred, rubbing her belly with a gentle hand.

"I look ravishing every day, darling." She crooned, smirking up at him.

"True that. But you look so fuckable right now with your little mom slippers. I just wanna gobble you all up."

"Please, you are always so desperate after a mission."

“No, no, you really do! I-I just." He stammered.

"What's stopping you?"

"Huh?"

"What's stopping you from ravishing me?" She grinned.

"N-nothing…"

"Exactly..." she whispered seductively.

"Fuck…you are one wicked woman."

"Oh, I know that. So are you going to? Or are you going to back out and-"

She was cut off by Tengen lifting her up bridal style and walking to the main bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed and hovered over her, smirking down at her.

"You were saying?" He teased her.

"You sly shinobi."

He chuckled and kissed her passionately while she kicked off her slippers. His hands wandered to her robe and untangled the knot, meeting her naked body.

“You sly woman. I come home to this?” He groaned, copying her words, his eyes soaking up her body.

"Clothes are too heavy now. I already have to carry this kid. It’s a hassle." She responded while undoing his headband and ponytail.

He laughed and nipped her neck while moving his hands down to her lower stomach. He moved down and kissed it, saying, "Can’t wait to meet you, little one. I’m gonna love ya so much."

She smiled down at her husband and saw his adoring look at her belly. Before she could speak, his fingers had already made their way down to her soaked cunt. His thumb gently rubbed her clit and his middle and ring fingers slipped easily into her.

"Mmm fuck... right there." She moaned, shutting her eyes to feel him more.

His fingers curled upwards and hit a sensitive spot, at which she grasped his hair, moaning.

"Tengen please~" She whined, bucking her hips into his fingers, desperately reaching for her climax.

"Can’t have my woman waiting, now, can I? You've done so much for me. I love you so much, pretty girl, you know. Imma take care of you." He said this as he continued teasing her walls.

She hummed a response and waited for him to continue his ministrations. His lips latched on to her sensitive bundle of nerves, and his tongue teased her little nub. Tengen thrust his fingers as he played with her clit making her get closer and closer to a release. (Name’s) moans got louder and louder, and her voice echoed throughout the mansion, reaching every corner of the place.

Abruptly, he stopped, the moment he realised she was extremely close. He pulled away and came back up to her face.

(Name) fluttered her eyelids open, meeting his fuschia-coloured eyes. "Why’d you stop love?"

"You're gonna cum on my cock and nowhere else, love. I can't have you cumming simply on my fingers, can I?"

She gasped at the feeling of his length rubbing over her clit and scrunched her eyebrows, looking into his eyes and pleading. He smiled and pecked her lips before slipping his cock into her sensitive, dripping walls. She groaned at the feeling of his girth stretching her and clawed his toned back at his deep thrust, which hit her cervix.

"T-tengen please… more…" She moaned into his ear.

His hands grasped her hips, and he thrust gently into her. The squelching sounds and her breathy moans hit his ears, and he groaned into her neck. He thrust faster and faster, trying to help her and him reach a blissful release.

(Name) was getting closer and closer. Her walls tightened around his cock, and he groaned loudly, "Fuck. You take me so well. You're doing so good love. That's it."

She wrapped her legs around his waist as she reached her heavenly climax and moaned into the air, breathing heavily. Tengen came soon after her, releasing his warm seed into her walls, coating her white. Pulling out, he recollected himself and looked at (Name’s) flushed expression. Her cheeks red, her eyes watery and her skin glowing.

His gentle lips met her forehead, and he muttered, "I love you so much."

She sighed into his touch and said, "I love you too."

They stayed in each other's embrace for a while until (Name) jolted up and her eyes widened. "FUCK! THE RAMEN! SHIT SHIT SHIT!!"

She grabbed her robe, slipped it on, and ran to the kitchen. Tengen looked at her run, flabbergasted at her outburst. His laugh roared throughout the mansion as he chased after her.

~~~

Throughout the months that she had been with him, many people had died for simply trying to flirt with him. But of course, the Sound Hashira never realised (Name’s) obsessive actions. He was devoted to her, and she was devoted to him. And when devotion casts its shadow upon one's heart, people often call it obsession. Obsession, which is both passion and relief. It can make you lonely, but there are some people whose biggest strength is their obsession. This was her greatest strength.

However, (Name) herself hadn't realised that some people who she was relatively close with in the corps were disappearing. This was the act of her secret admirer, who to this day stands ever-strong, waiting for the right time to pounce like a lion.

But, of course, (Name) wouldn't let that happen. She was ready to kill whoever got in her way. Some say that falling in love is like sinking into an abyss where only death can bring one out. But even beyond death was (Name’s) love. She was willing to cross the world as a soul to stay with Tengen, even if it meant fighting God. Yes, there was a fine line between devotion and obsession, but there she was, willing to cross it.

(Name’s) love was endless, without consequence, and without limit. She would continue loving Tengen in the light but killing those who were in her way at night. Her illusion of innocence was so strong that Tengen himself trusted (Name) blindly. 

(Name) had one rule in her life: "Love, only the one you can control; when love begins to control you, destroy it."

But there was no need for her to destroy Tengen; he was already in the grasp of (Name’s) claws, and she was easily able to make him succumb to her will.

He was hers. She was his. His saviour. Her saviour. And that was it.

~~~~~

The man stood in the garden smiling at his flowers, which (Name) ended up planting. He hid from prying eyes as he laid the flowers on the veranda. Soon, he turned around to leave until he heard soft moans coming from the main bedroom. Curiously, he walked over to the curtained window and made out the shadows of (Name) and Tengen. The bed was creaking, and (Name) was groaning Tengen’s voice out into the room.

The man’s nails dug into his palms as he listened to her seductive voice, moaning not his but another man’s name. He grimaced, his face turning into a heavy scowl. His breath got heavier as her voice got louder. But he eased himself; he had to be patient. He had to be calm. In order to have her, he would have to calm his flames. He slowly relaxed and turned around, walking out of the garden to stand in the nearby forest.

The wind blew in his lion-like, yellow-red hair, and he took one last look at the mansion and smirked, remembering his flowers that were now planted in the Uzui garden.

"You were my Tsuguko to begin with. You will always belong to me. Soon (Name), soon you will be mine." Rengoku Kyojurou whispered into the forest, speaking of his dark desires to the beings that lived there.. 

Once the Flame Hashira was set on something, he was determined to gain it. No matter the cost.

And this time it was (Name) he wanted, so (Name) is what he would get...

Notes:

yeah...so she was acquaintances with douma for a pretty long time but he was just chillin, no one that important, unlike rengoku... too many yanderes man! i dont see wonky eyebrows as a "joe goldberg" type person but i wanted to add my own twist cuz i was bored out of my mind so here we are with stalker rengoku...fun right!

relax, I'm not that psychotic.......or am i?

yanderes just do something to me idk why. maybe its the idea of having someone obsessed with you ifykwim

[morningstargirl666]

I just finished reading through The Big Bad Wolf and have loved it. I can’t wait for more!! Any updates or news?

Hi! So happy to hear you loved it! ❤️✨

I'm currently in the process of editing/rewriting TBBW right now! I've also outlined chapter 36 and started writing some of the dialogue, but I'm hesitant to start writing it in its entirety because I feel like I'm going to end up changing a lot of TBBW and want it all up to date before I fully commit my attention to the next chapter. I'm not changing anything plot-line wise, but I am making tweaks to the lore, character development, etc. It's still the same story, but now that the first 35 chapters are written, I find I'm going back and adding bits that you'd normally see in 'filler' episodes. Anything and everything that develops characters, relationships or lore - or even just there simply because I find it fun and enjoyable. I keep reminding myself that writing these first 35 chapters was me stuffing sand into buckets and now, with time to edit, I can finally make the sandcastles: carve turrets and staircases, mount flags and add seashells, adding every scrap of detail that will ultimately make this story come alive.

For example, chapter 5 on its own, has 6.5K of entirely NEW unseen content added to it so far (it's not posted yet, nor are any other edits for TBBW, so don't get too excited). And that's not counting the scene between Sam and Kiera on the phone, which has been re-written completely for the most part. There is also at least one more new scene I still want to write. If the chapter gets too long, it might mean splitting it in two and re-organising the chapters again, like I did for chapter 11 and 12 a while ago when I edited them.

Chapter 5, I hope, is an outlier and most chapters won't have as much done to them. Chapter 1 is edited and finished, yet its mostly the same except for grammar corrections. Though Chapter 2 has a deeper insight into Klaus' mindset - particularly his pure dislike for doppelgangers - purely because it's fun for me, as well as highlighting the development of his character between The Little Wolf and the start of TBBW. There's also going to be an extra canon forwood scene at the end of that chapter, as I want to develop them more, in preparation for when I destroy the relationship in the future chapters after 35. But who nows - all the chapters centered around the Mikaelson Ball I'm eyeing hungrily, my mind whizzing with a few ideas on how I might expand on them a little bit. I also want to focus more on the hybrids, which until now I've kinda ignored.

I know it may be a little disappointing, to hear the next chapter update is a long way off yet. But I don't want to rush this. I want to savour it, every single second. And who knows, by the time you get chapter 36, you won't just be getting a 20k chapter - you'll be getting a 50k bonus update of brand new content as well, sprinkled throughout the first 35 chapters. The word count is going to be over 400k by the time I update the next chapter, probably closer to 450k, I'm almost sure of it.

I can't promise when the next chapter will arrive, but I can promise this:

It will be worth the wait.

[cilil]

⸙ Prompt: Thanksgiving | Mafia AU Melkor x Mairon ⸙ Synopsis: The boss has plans for Thanksgiving. Mairon "Maironi" Artano finds himself quite intrigued. ⸙ Warnings: Smoking; also the AU is in itself a warning ⸙ Quintuple drabble

» AN: Based on @fraeuleinfriedhof's autocorrect-inspired idea and @saintstars's wonderful art (here and here), I contribute this little but hopefully entertaining ficlet to the Goncharov/Mafia AU Angbang movement.

"Anything else you need, boss?" Mairon – also lovingly dubbed Maironi by other members of the organisation – asked after placing yet another neat stack of papers on the ever-messy desk of Aman's most infamous criminal. 

"Fire." Melkor's answer came without hesitation. He was lounging in an armchair facing the huge window nearby to oversee the city of Valmar down below and extended his left hand to show an unlit cigar. 

Dutiful as always, Mairon walked over and fished a lighter from his pocket, swiftly producing a tiny flame while Melkor raised the cigar to his lips. The cool fingers of his boss' right hand curled around his wrist just as smoke began to rise between the two, and his breath hitched in his throat. Was it fear that he felt, Mairon questioned himself, but the answer was no... instead he felt strangely excited. 

"Anything planned for Thanksgiving?" Melkor asked conversationally, his thumb caressing his palm. 

"I suppose not," Mairon responded. "I haven't seen my family in years." 

The flame continued to flicker until he finally remembered that he was indeed still holding the lighter. 

Melkor smirked, seemingly pleased. "Neither do I." 

He took a deep drag, then let his hand drop and his head fall backwards to exhale. Mairon caught himself staring at his lips, ashen and beautifully shaped, promising kisses of death and oblivion. 

"Maybe we should celebrate together," Melkor said then, though his expression held a certain mocking irony. 

Nevertheless, Mairon decided to play along, slipping around the back of the chair to sit on its armrest – and put his physique on display, accentuated by the expensive suit he was wearing. 

"I didn't know you cared for such festivities," he said, his voice laced with matching irony; he would play coy, but not pretend to be stupid. 

Melkor's gaze wandered across his thighs appreciatively, then he grinned up at him. "Oh, I don't. But I thought perhaps... I should thank you for all you do for me?" 

And with that, his free hand snaked around his waist and came to rest on his hips. Mairon's face lit up triumphantly; he was finally getting exactly what he wanted and possibly much more still. 

"How flattering, boss. And such a tempting offer," he said, batting his eyelashes. 

"Indeed." Melkor pulled him onto his lap and brought the cigar to his lips. Ever eager to please, Mairon made a show out of closing his lips around it and savouring the smoke, though it was but a paltry imitation of what he truly desired. 

"Good boy," Melkor purred in his ear. "Now look out of the window."

Mairon did. Valmar, everyone who lived in the city, the entirety of Aman that lay beyond... it all either belonged to Melkor already or would do so soon. And then he saw his own reflection in the glass, sitting on his boss' lap and leaning against him like a pretty little pet, and realised with a surge of wild desire that he was Melkor's as well.

Thanks for reading! I'm not sure if I'm good at any sort of modern AU, but I'm trying my best XD

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[cargopantsprentiss]

:) demily :) for ask meme

I would kill for them to be honest.

No, but whilst they’re not *my* ship, I’m fiercely protective of Demily because they’re so important to eachother, whether you look at that through a purely platonic lens or not, and their relationship is so pivotal to some of the best seasons of the show.

I love the multifaceted nature of their bond too - it’s like okay cool they bond over a novelist; they’ve both got this complicated relationship with religion that compliments the other; they love to pick on eachother and fight like an old married couple. He holds her hand whilst she’s dying and he refuses to leave her side because that’s where he belongs. He spends months tracking down the man who killed her because it’s the only thing he can concentrate on; it drives him half crazy. She returns from the dead, and it turns out the entire thing was a lie to protect her, and he just accepts it because god her being alive and back in his arms is more important than anything, any lie. The entirety of season seven is him holding her like a precious thing, this second chance, and yet when she says she’s leaving, because he knows it’s the right thing for her, it’s what she needs, he lets her go. That last moment, them dancing at JJ’s wedding, is them just savouring being together for a last time and it gets me in the gut every time.