#and now its at the length where i keep tugging at it occasionally lmao

[illbegottenfaith]

okay got home changed into my pjs + got a glass of water time to speedrun gen ai courses until my eyes give out

[fixfoxnox]

Makarov has a dacryphilia kink and you can’t prove otherwise🥲

Not sure if you mean in terms of himself crying (can that even work that way? Like getting turned on by yourself crying? Do I even care? Probably not lmao) or seeing his partner cry, but tbh its probably both and you're 100% right. But also how could you send me this and NOT expect me to write something for it?

Pardon me as I switch between Au's for some little horny Makarov shit

Prostitute! Roach/Makarov - Seeing his partner cry:

"Come now, Zoloste," Makarov guided Roach's mouth down on his cock, a low groan leaving his throat at the feeling. The wet heat of the younger man's mouth was almost too much for him and he had to resist from just fucking into the feeling with wild abandon.

He slowly tightened his grip on Roach's hair, "Go on," he groaned out. Roach knew exactly what he wanted, his tongue beginning to lave over the length of his hot cock, all while he gave greatful little sucks, adding to the pleasure. His hands came up to wrap around the base of Makarov's cock, pulling another groan from the older man as he began to work his hands in tandem with his mouth.

Moans and gasps escaped Makarov's mouth as he slowly worked Roach's head up and down on his cock, picking up speed ever so slowly. Below him, Roach made a point to keep his eyes on him. He knew how much the older man liked to see his face. How much he liked his eyes.

Makarov eventually began to thrust his hips, forcing Roach to remove his hands from the man's cock as he was forced to take him further and further down his throat. Makarov didn't stop his movements, even as Roach began to gag against the length in his mouth as it abused the back of his throat.

His eyes stayed on Roach's face, watching with appreciation as the younger man's eyes glazed over, his cheeks flushed red as tears began to gather in the corner of his eyes. Just the sight of it made Makarov more desperate, pulling Roach harder on his cock. He wanted to see those tears fall. He wanted to cum down Roach's throat as tears decorated his cheeks.

He pressed harder, pulling Roach all the way down on his cock and holding him there for a moment, listening to the sounds of him choking and whining under him. Finally, after a moment, he pulled him back, delight and arousal spreading through his chest as he looked at the man's face.

Saliva dripped down Roach's chin and falling prettily from his eyes were those perfect tears that Makarov loved to see. He tilted his head back with a short groan before picking up his fast pace once again, fucking into the younger man's mouth and forcing more tears from his eyes. "That's it, Zoloste. Let me see those pretty pretty tears."

Ultranationalist Roach/Makarov - himself crying:

He tugged desperately on the restraints around his wrist, arching up into the mouth that was working against his cock with a wrecked moan.

He was sure he looked absolutely debauched, his hands restrained above his head by a set of metal cuffs attached to the wall. Roach had it only recently installed for him, this was their first time testing them out. He hated them, but oh did he love them. His shirt was pressed up to his chest, still there from where Roach had shoved it up to get his mouth against his chest, leaving bruising marks against his skin with his teeth and tongue.

He was naked from the waist down, his legs only restrained by the strong arms that held him still, keeping his hips from jumping up into his touch. He felt terribly desperate, high and needy groans pulled from his throat with every swipe of Roach's tongue to his abused cock.

The back of his thighs were certainly an abused red from the occasional harsh slaps that Roach had been giving the skin there. It was clear to see that the younger man was delighting in the the desperate little gasps that the slaps were pulling from his mouth.

The focus of his pleasure, though, was clearly the mouth around the head of his cock, sucking and licking the tip of him so sweetly as a hand worked itself slowly and tightly up and down his shaft. It was so good, a constant and pleasant burn that continued to grow in his gut with every slow move of the man's hand.

There was only one problem. One very large problem. Roach continued working his cock, occasionally giving a little hum against the thickness of it when Makarov would give a particularly pathetic whine.

Makarov was close, he was so close. He could feel it in his gut, building up quickly and rapidly. His hips began to jump against Roach's strong arms, seeking more friction from the other man. He could feel the pleasure curling his toes and rising through his body. He was so close. He was right there. Just one more little move. He only needed one more push and he would be there. Roach gave another suck at his cock, his back arched off of the bed and-

He gave a harsh sob, his body shaking as Roach stopped his movements, his hand on his cock wrapping around the base of him tightly, preventing him from finishing. He tried to thrash in the younger man's hold, seeking any sort of friction to send him over the edge. He only succeeded in getting another harsh slap to the back of his thigh, Roach's snickers accompanying the sound.

"Please," he sobbed out, the pleasure in his gut slowly fading down to a cool simmer. This was the fifth time that Roach had brought him to the edge, getting him just close enough before suddenly stopping and preventing him from cumming. It was pure torture.

Roach gave another laugh, slowly crawling up his body to press their lips together harshly. Makarov could do nothing but accept the kiss with a whimper. After a moment, Roach pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "Aww, look at you baby, such a mess." His hand reached up, wiping at the tears that had begun escaping from his eyes. The realization that he'd been crying did nothing but make pleasure coil within him more. Makarov wanted to be disappointed with himself, but he couldn't be too surprised that crying seemed to do it for him.

"Please," Makarov asked, squirming under Roach, trying to get any friction to his aching cock.

Roach merely laughed at him. "Pretty boy, look at you. So perfect for me, hmm," he leaned forward, licking at the tears along Makarov's cheek. It pulled a shudder from Makarov, his face going red as Roach pulled back to grin at him wickedly. "Should we do it again baby? I say let's do it again."

Bonus! GN! Reader x Makarov - seeing his partner crying:

The only sounds in the large personal office were the sounds of little choked off moans, skin harshly slapping skin, and the little trinkets on Makarov's desk rattling dangerously, threatening to topple to the floor with every thrust. Makarov paid the trinkets no mind. They were all replaceable, the scene in front of him was far more important.

He took in the sounds of their cries, delight filling him as they whined out his name. They were taking him so well, so deliciously tight around him as he wrung pleasure from them with every thrust of his cock.

He'd already done his work with his mouth, pulling their release from them harshly as they'd whimpered above him, their hand tight in his hair. It was a glorious sight to see them finish, their face twisted up delightfully as sounds of pleasure flowed from their mouth.

He hadn't given them a break before flipping them around, bending them over his desk to take them harshly from behind. Their hands were tightly gripped at the front of the desk as he pulled choked-off moans from them with every thrust of his cock into their waiting heat.

He draped himself over their back, wrapping a hand around their throat and using it to pull them back against his chest. His other hand snuck around the front of them, flicking, twisting, and rubbing at their nipples, delighting in the way that they clenched around him at the feeling.

He was quick to wring another orgasm from them, groaning with delight at their loud calls of his name. He still didn't stop, pressing them down against the desk again to continue rutting harshly inside of them. He could hear the sob that his movements pulled from their throat. "Please, God, please," they called out, their voice wrecked. Makarov couldn't help but snicker at the way that they begged. God he loved that sound.

"My name," he called to them, pressing harsh kisses against their shoulder, "Say my name and beg for me lubov moya."

They listened to him. They always listened, they were so good, so obedient like that. "Makarov! Please! Please, fuck, I can't take anymore, I- oh god!"

"You can take it," Makarov wrapped a hand around their throat again, pulling them up so that he could place a kiss against their tear stained cheeks, a groan working up from his throat at the sight. "Fuck, love it when you cry for me. Such a little cock-slut, yeah? Crying over my cock, so perfect." He bit down on their shoulder, sucking a mark onto the skin before shoving them back down to the desk once again. "We're going to stay here until I've had at least two more from you. Keep crying for me, lubov moya. Let it all out like the good little slut that you are."

[shoutogepi]

First Time BJ HC’s

with Bakugou, Kirishima, Shinsou, & Todoroki

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : [  ✘ 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 (𝟏𝟖+) ] smut!

𝐡𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 : how would they act while receiving head for the first time?

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’��� 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i don’t usually mention this but i did wanna say that they’re all 18+, AS THEY ARE IN EVERYTHING I WRITE. also please minors stay aWAY. LEAVE NOW PLEASE i am begging you. 

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 💥

surprisingly vocal and loud about it!! omg this mf... your panties are def gonna be drenched after giving him head.

fists your hair and shoves your head down, choking you with his dick. he’s just really eager and excited to finally have your mouth on him!! 

lost in the pleasure of it all. so he lets his guard down and ends up making mouth-watering noises for you to indulge in while you service him. 

LOTS of grunts and whispered curses under his breath. 

probably lasts like 5 mins but only because he’s battling himself not to bust every 15 seconds. 

when he does come, he pulls out and paints it across your face. honestly, he’s been dreaming about doing exactly that ever since he first saw you. 

yeah, he knows he’s nasty lol...

asks you if he can take a pic for his spank bank when he’s done. 

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your tongue glides across his hot length, lapping at the bulging veins that line the underside of his shaft. As your lips make their way to the base of his cock, he lets out a gravely moan and your eyes roll back at the sound of it, ignoring the dull ache that’s begun to form at the back of your throat. 

“Deeper, Princess...” the blonde grunts, his hips shifting up so the swollen head of his cock nestles deep into your wet mouth. “Fuck yeah.” 

He pants, vermillion orbs glaring down at you as he lets you off his lap and you sputter for air. The sight of your saliva stringing out between your parted lips and his slick cock makes him ache. Even without your mouth on him, he feels just as hot, like no matter what you do, he gets closer to coming with every second of you on your knees in from of him. 

It’s not long before Bakugou’s deciding you’ve had enough air, slapping his girth against your lips. He swears as your tongue pokes out to trace the ridge of his heavy cock head, the muscle lashing out to caress his skin and take him into your mouth again. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god— fuck—” His grip on your locks tightens as you hollow your cheeks and suck on him, salty pre-come dripping down the back of your tongue. 

Your thighs push together as your core drools for him, his moans clouding your thoughts as you move your neck to pump faster. His balls tighten and the feeling in his stomach sharpens, thighs twitching beneath your splayed fingers. 

“Nnn— no baby, slow down, slo—” You don’t pay him any mind, twirling your tongue extra hard against him as you push him to the back of your mouth. “Fuck!” He moans as he shoves you off him, his cock leaving your lips just fast enough for his release to spray over your cheeks and across one eye. His legs don’t stop shaking even as his cock ceases gushing, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head and smear the white liquid across your lips. 

He groans as your tongue wanders out to meet the digit, cleaning his essence from your mouth with a coy smile. His gaze burns down into yours, desire still simmering in his bright irises. 

“That was fuckin’ hot, Princess,” he commends, watching his come trickle down your face before his fingers reach for his phone. “You’ll let me snap a pic, yeah baby?”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 🧱

attempts to be really manly about it but just like bakugou, he cannot shut up about how good it feels. vocally admires you the whole time.

he was hesitant to let you go down on him in the first place, because to him, sex should revolve around your pleasure.

so when you told him that making him feel good in turn makes you feel good, he shuts up and pulls his pants down real quick LOLL.

praises you the whole time, treats you like a goddess and he’s your loyal worshipper.

he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands so he alternates between stroking your hair/chin and covering his face when he’s sure he’s making an obscene expression (although fails to actually hide said expressions from you, much to your delight).

when he’s about to come, he gives ample warning and makes sure to ask  where you want him to finish. 

hot and respectful experience, 10/10.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Kirishima throws his head back as he moans, his fingers slipping through the hair at the crown of your head. “That feels so, so good baby girl...” His other hand curls into a fist atop his thigh, which tenses as your nails scrape down the inside of it. 

You look up at him through your lashes, tongue following the thick ridge on the bottom of his length. Fitting him in your mouth is a feat of its own, his cock rock-hard and thicker than you expected between your lips. Connecting gazes with him, you watch as his sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip, his hand slipping from your head to shield the lewd look twisting his features. You can feel your cunt warm at the sight of his furrowed brow and hanging jaw, his ragged panting only egging your ministrations further.  

“What about this, Kiri?” You spoke against his shaft, lips moving across the slick skin and moving to swirl your tongue around his thick head. 

“That’s—” he cuts himself off with a moan when you suck on his sensitive member, sliding half his cock into your warm, wet mouth. “God, you’re amazing!” 

You hum, satisfied with his answer. But that only makes his moans louder, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair again. Your free hand caresses his heavy sack, thumb rubbing over his soft skin and squeezing ever so slightly. 

Kirishima whimpers your name, forcing your eyes to meet his crimson gaze once again. He looks absolutely wrecked, lips parted and hot puffs of breath escaping as his chest rises and falls quickly. “I’m really close, baby girl... where do you want me to..?”

All he receives is a flirty wink in response before you continue your movements, and he doesn’t bother to hold back the moan nor the desperate expression that crosses his handsome features. After a few moments of going to work his hips begin to shuffle under you and he tenses, and you open your throat and allow him to push his cock into your mouth on his own accord. 

“Holy shit!” He cries as he comes down your throat, his hot spend warming your body as your tongue pets his cock, waiting for him to fall from his high. “You’re so beautiful, baby girl,” he murmurs once he’s done, pulling you up for a passionate kiss. 

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐮 🔮

tries to keep his cool and succeeds... for the most part. 

sits back and lets you do your thing, eyes never leaving you for even a second. 

he has a pretty dick and acts like he knows it, but it looks so, so much better slipping in and out of your mouth.

gently fucks your face. he likes having you take your time, which is also why he lasts longer than you were expecting. nothing crazy tho prob like 10 mins max HAHA.

he bites his lip to keep the noises in so he’s no where near as loud as the others... but when the occasional moan does slip out, it makes it only that much better. 

combs his hands through his hair a lot. also thinks about how he’s gonna reciprocate this great favor once you’re done...

oozes a lot of pre throughout the whole ordeal but he actually doesn’t taste too bad?? magic man. comes on your tongue and demands you hold it there for a second before you swallow. o.o

after everything’s done he’s shocked that he was able to control himself so well lmao

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

“Fuck...” Shinsou breathes the swear out lowly, brow twitching while his rough fingertips glide through his indigo locks. He would smirk at the purr that rumbles through your body at his praise, but your mouth sinks down to the base of his cock and his teeth push deep into his bottom lip instead. 

Violet eyes fixate on your mouth, the way your slobber glistens and trails behind your lips with each purposeful movement of your neck. He wants to allow his eyes to roll into his skull as his swollen head presses against the back of your throat, but he forces his gaze to remain on you, determined not to miss a single second of the show. 

His fingers curl into his roots as your tongue swipes against his flushed skin, allowing a quiet groan to escape as you repeat the movement. Briefly he wonders how you can be so good at this, how he feels like he’s been on the edge of his orgasm for the past five minutes and somehow he’s loving every second of your heavenly torture. 

He licks his lips as your mouth leaves his cock and he watches the strands of saliva that connect the two, how your lips curl into a confident smile as your eyes meet his. Tracing your tongue along the side of his cock up and down, then sucking and nibbling at the same skin immediately afterwards. Another groan tumbles out of him, his hand flying to your hair and tugging your head up so that his erect cock rests against your sealed lips. 

You keep his gaze as your tongue wanders out and pets his head, then slipping the length back into your hot mouth as far as you can. Shinsou lets out a particularly heavy breath at the action, his hips jerking up gently so he pushes all the way into your throat. It’s easy to find a rhythm for the both of you, and for the first time, he lets himself close his eyes and become lost in the feeling of your mouth on him. 

“Just like that, kitty... that’s it, good girl...” He starts to grunt and grow louder as he reaches the cusp of ecstasy, still pushing his cock in between your lips until the feeling becomes too much to hold back anymore. “Hold your tongue out.” 

Following his instruction, your pink muscle is covered in white as he comes, some dripping down your tongue and disappearing down your throat. He strokes himself through it, dipping his thumb in the puddle of his seed after he’s finished before he pushes the finger back and you wrap your lips around the digit as you swallow everything. 

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 ❄️

poor baby, he is sooo flustered and reactive. almost catches on fire a handful of times. 

not super vocal at first but he pants a lot and every time you go further down on him, his breath catches in his throat.

speaking of preTTY DICKS!!!!! he has the prettiest. 

honestly he doesn’t last very long. he just is so sensitive bc he’s never had anything so warm and wet and gorgeous near his cock before. and he prob doesn’t jack off as often as the others so there’s that too.. 

he doesn’t have a clue what to do with his hands, very similar to kirishima in the way that his fingers are either touching you or masking the bottom of his face. he keeps his eyes on you most of the time though, taking mental pictures— hell, a mental video— and frying it into his brain. 

warns you when he’s getting close, moans increasing in depth, frequency, and volume. he’s so head over heels for you that just holding your gaze brings him even closer to the edge. 

doesn’t care where he comes, but seeing his spend on your face does things to him... 

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Dual-colored eyes pierce into yours as you hollow your cheeks, wet tongue flush to the delicate skin of his aching member. Shouto’s hand lands over his mouth, long fingers stretching across his face as his brows scrunch beneath his silky locks. A harsh breath falls from his lips as your mouth drops down to the base of his throbbing cock. His contoured abdomen quivering underneath your fingers as he draws in another shaky breath, you savor how his gaze is locked on your tongue snaking around his wide shaft. 

“Ahah~ that feels—” he sucks in between his clenched teeth, fingers on his other hand carding through the hairs falling around your face. “Incredible, angel.” His sock-clad toes curl and drag through the carpet beside your knees, your nails digging into the ample muscle that lines his thighs. The action elicits a broken gasp which in turn makes you moan around his rosy cock. 

His hips buck up and shove his length into your throat even deeper at the vibrations, only making him sigh deeply with bliss. You gag and sputter around him, your throat tightening and forcing another heavy huff from his lungs. He allows you to come up for air, feelings mixed about how the sight of you struggling to breath makes him ache for you even more. 

“Don’t stop, love...” he mumbles, barely cognizant as his head spins, your lips sliding around him and answering his plea instantly. His hand curls around the back of your head, loosely guiding your strokes and forming a makeshift ponytail that keeps most of your hair out of the way. “You look so pretty like this, oh god...” 

The number of grunts and moans floating out of him increases as you find a steady tempo to bob your head to, his fist in your hair allowing your movements to speed up. You can feel him gradually tensing, his pants becoming more breathless and desperate, little pleas falling from his lips as his voice turns more gruff. 

“I’m gonna come,” he cautions abruptly, digits pulling at your roots tighter, his other hand flying up to push his own hair back from his forehead as the pressure builds within him. His frantic gaze meets your calm one, his face contorting with the increasing pleasure. “W-Where should I— Fuck, love— agh, God, I— I’m—” 

His body trembles as he falls over the edge, orgasm wracking through him as thick ribbons of white shoot onto your chin, your hand stroking his slick length as you guide him through the haze of euphoria. He comes a good amount, especially when you stick the head of his cock back inside your mouth and happily allow the last few spurts to coast down your throat. 

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

(ᇴ‿ᇴ) ahh i love smut.. lol lmk why i made toshi so daddy tho tfff 

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: The Demon in Atychia Town

Previous: Intro 1 // Intro 2 // Intro 3

This is long but I couldn’t find a very natural place to split it, so. It’s staying one piece.

Pray for Jasper everyone lmao

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

TW for: starvation/aftermath of starvation; alcohol use/drunkenness; people are threatened and shot at with a crossbow; nonhuman whumpee with captivity and wing whump; dehumanization and “it” language for a sapient, nonhuman creature. Also Will is doing some wild, like, masking here and I’m not sure how to warn for that exactly.

----

The boy called Will, apparently skeleton and little else, weighed only very slightly more than Jasper’s pack, and carrying him would have been no burden at all if not for the desperate litany of apologies he muttered directly into Jasper’s ear for the entire journey back to town.

Then Jasper saw what was sitting in the center of Atychia Town. It had not been there when he had left, and it shouldn’t have been there now.

He dropped the boy onto his unsteady feet then and there, beside the wellhouse, barely waiting to see that the boy stayed upright, because there was no room for anything in his head other than this: to go to the only building in town likely to have people in it at this hour, and find out who among them had chained up a demon in the town square.

----

There was a stain on the thickly-varnished wood of the table in the front righthand corner of the Sheep’s Eye Inn and Tavern. It was dark red, and enough like wine for plausible deniability, and it did not seem to be coming out, no matter how hard Lia scrubbed at it.

Jasper Run, the Magician, could have magicked it out easily enough, Lia thought, scrubbing savagely. If he was interested in using his magic for anything useful. Not that she would have asked him to start with scrubbing her tables. You could do all sorts of things with magic, in minutes, that would take the people of Atychia months and years to do otherwise. Deepen wells, for instance. Trick crops into growing thicker and healthier. Make rain.

Alright, Lia thought, her hands drawing into fists around her cleaning rag. That last was maybe better left to a Sorcerer than a Magician. But still. He hadn’t even fixed the temple roof, and any third-rate conjurer could do that.

Harsh, ugly laughter erupted from the big table in the center of the bar area, where her employer and his horrible friends were drinking themselves into a violent stupor. Lia’s shoulders tightened and she scrubbed at the stain even harder, because what she wanted to do was break things, and that might make her finally lose her job.

“Oy, Lass! Another round for my boys, here!” Old Meyr called in a heavily slurred voice.

Lia tried to remind herself why she wanted to keep this job so bad, anyway.

Straightening, Lia plastered on a smile that felt two sizes too tight and went over to see what the idiots wanted.

“I wonder what the reward will be, when we get down to Archae,” the youngest of Meyr’s little friends was saying excitedly, leaned across the table with a hazy grin on his face and a mostly-empty bottle clutched in his fist.

“If we get down to Archae,” the oldest of the group said dourly, earning a pout from his junior. “We’ve a long ways to go yet, lad, and I wouldn’t take a week in the Waste lightly—not with a monster like that in tow.”

Lia, eavesdropping a little now, shuddered at the thought of that, and inadvertently caught her employer’s eye. He was too deep in his cups to notice she’d been listening, so that was alright—though to be honest, part of her wanted him to shout at her, so she would have an excuse to shout back. “Ah, there y’are, lass,” he hiccupped, giving her an off-kilter grin. “More’a the same, for us all!” He waved his empty mug at her, and did not seem to notice her answering scowl.

“Sir,” she agreed shortly, and stalked back to the bar to get more ale.

The youngest man—at least six years Lia’s junior—gave her a wide, intoxicated leer when she came back with the drinks. “G’mornin’, Missy Lia!” he said, a little to loudly. Lia twitched very slightly. She had no idea what this boy’s name might be, but she did know this gutless pip had no business calling her “Missy.” She decided to leave his ale for last. He did not notice. He giggled at her, instead, though it turned into a hiccup at the end. “Did you see what we found in the—oof!”

Lia wondered if she was supposed to pretend she hadn’t seen the elbow that the oldest man had planted in the younger one’s ribs.

“Thanks for the service, Barmaid Lia,” the old man said, his voice polite and also definitely a dismissal. This time, Lia thought any sober man would probably have seen her answering twitch. “We hope you’ll excuse the boy,” he went on, sending his junior a furious look. “When Young Kalen opens his mouth, all his guts fall out. He didn’t say nothin’ as ought to concern you, Missy.”

Lia set the old man’s drink down in front of him, and happened to tread hard on his foot under the table in the process. He loud squawk the old man made startled another member of the party—by far the largest, though more about the middle than the muscles—out of an impromptu nap on the edge of the table. Old Meyr leaned forward, squinting at her, as though to decide whether she ought to be disciplined.

“How clumsy of me,” Lia said sweetly. Meyr hiccuped. So her employer’s terrible tolerance seemed to save her job again, for better or worse.

Lia rolled her shoulders, and reminded herself that it was more or less this or starving, in Atychia Town.

Still. If any member of this party called her Barmaid again—honestly. It was bad enough when Jasper Run did it, but at least he had a nice—

It was as Lia was finishing this thought that the front door flew open and Jasper Run stormed through it.

----

The door to the Sheep’s Eye was lighter than he remembered, and slammed very loudly against a poorly-placed booth with a loud crack that sounded like it might be permanent.

Jasper found that he did not much care.

Old Meyr, who owned the inn—not, Jasper thought furiously, that he actually had any hand in running the place, these days, that was all Lia, and it should have been her place really—was seated at the center table, a beer clutched at the end of one spindly arm, and the other waving vaguely in the air. From the door, all Jasper could see was his bent, spidery back, and the old man didn’t turn, not at Jasper’s not-very-subtle entrance, and not at the sound of his boots pounding on the floor, either.

“Magician,” Will Price said in a faint, wispy voice from behind him, and held out his thin hand, awkwardly; like he wanted to tug at Jasper’s sleeve, but was afraid to actually touch him. Probably that bore further examination, but for now it also made him very easy to ignore.

“I would like to know,” Jasper said in a thunderous voice, “what exactly is going on in the Square today.”

Atychia was barely a town, and its residents called the dusty cobblestone rectancle between the Sheep’s Eye and the wellhouse the Town Square with a hint of despairing irony. On an ordinary day the Square held occasional stalls run by especially intrepid or lost merchants, some lines of drying laundry, and very little else.

Today, there was a cage in the middle of the square.

It was hard to keep anything clean so close to the Waste. The interior of the cage was so clotted with dust, blood, hair, and feathers that it had been difficult to say, at first, what was huddled in the center of that vast construction of wire and wood. At first, Jasper had assumed the cage contained some sort of criminal, awaiting trial—it seemed a bit barbaric, to keep a man exposed to the wind and dust like that for any length of time, but Atychia was that sort of town. That was before he saw the wings, however.

After he saw the wings, Jasper hadn’t thought of anything at all.

Old Meyr, confronted with a very angry Magician of nearly twice his height and muscle mass, turned in his seat and blinked owlishly. “Eh?”

“The. Square,” Jasper said slowly, through his teeth.

Old Meyr blinked twice more, and then he raised himself up to his full spindly height and said haughtily, “’Tain’t none o’ yer thrice-damned business, Conjurer.”

It was remarkable how easy it was to pull the old man out of his chair.

His scarred palm wrapped around the back of the old man’s skinny neck, Jasper half-dragged the protesting Innkeeper toward the door, the red haze of anger quite thick enough to block out the utterly baffled look on Lia the Barmaid’s face and the uncomfortable (feverish) confusion on Will Price’s.

“Wha—Jasper?” Lia squeaked, hurrying to follow him.

“M-Magician—hey—!” Will Price wheezed, stumbling after her.

Jasper ignored them, and ignored Old Meyr too until he had dragged him out the door and into the square, and then he dropped the old man on his feet in front of the hulking iron frame.

Inside the cage, the demon shifted. A few blood-clotted feathers lifted in the breeze. Jasper caught one, and had time enough to glare at it and see that it seemed to be made of amber and sapphires before it turned to ash in his hands.

Jasper peered into the darkness within the cage, and a pair of golden eyes peered back for a moment. Then the demon threw her great tattered wings over her head, a mess of blood and fire-colored curls.

“What the hell have you done, old man?” Jasper croaked. The sight of the demon’s feather had knocked a good part of the anger out of him. He had been furious. He was now starting to be very slightly afraid.

Staring at the shape in the cage through an almost literal fog of alcohol, the old man swayed slightly, and then turned to glare petulantly up at Jasper.

“It’s mine,” he said, his voice slurred and also a touch defensive. “I found it.”

Jasper, unable to believe what he was hearing, stared at the old man. Old Meyr inched slowly back, away from the cage.

“Bullshit you did,” Jasper said flatly.

He started toward the cage door, Runes in hand, and then the sound of wood scraping against metal pulled him up short. The oldest—and, at the moment, soberest—member of Old Meyr’s party stood in the Inn’s doorway, an elderly but operational crossbow tucked against his broad right shoulder.

“I’d step away from yon caged birdie, an I were you, young Conjurer,” the old man said. His voice was measured, if a touch reluctant, and his fingers looked firm enough on the cross’s trigger. Though he was older than Meyr by ten summers easily, and might have seen seventy summers, he was much less twig-shaped than the Innkeeper, and closer to Jasper’s height, too. Jasper glared at him.

“Furl’n!” Meyr crowed, though the slur in his voice meant the actual pronunciation of his comrad’s name was anyone’s guess. “Bloody good timing, brother. Cap’tal!”

Jasper chose to ignore this. “’Caged birdie,’” he repeated savagely. “Have you idiots got any idea what it is you’ve caught, here?” He gestured wildly at the demon, who shivered, wing feathers rippling.

“’Course we have!” Meyr protested, affronted, and pulled a sheet of parchment from down the front of his grayed tunic.

“Meyr—” Furlan—Furlen? Furlyn?—growled warningly, but Jasper had already snatched the paper out of Meyr’s spindly fingers and held it easily out of the little man’s limited reach.

The emperor, the parchment proclaimed in large, elegant type—and Jasper was surprised to see ink this far into the Waste, let alone print—offers a generous reward for the successful capture of a flying devil carrying the pictured plumage.

Below this someone had painted a delicate wing-feather in shades of iridescent blue and gold, and an address had been noted, in Archae City, miles away across the Waste.

Jasper stared at the parchment. It could have been duplicated by magic, but not in color, on such high quality paper, that would have cost a fortune. No one near Atychia had that kind of money, or access to such specifically skilled labor.

“Well—now you see, young Conjurer,” Furlan-Furlen-Furlyn gumbled, shooting a glare towards Old Meyr, who didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll be takin’ yon birdie down t’Archae with us, when we go. Ye’ll understand—” and here he adjusted his grip on the cross-bow, so it was trained on the center of Jasper’s chest, and set his jaw a bit more firmly—“if we take unkindly to any meddling from you, sir.”

Jasper glanced back at the cage’s wrought-iron lock, and then forward at the crossbow’s iron-tipped bolt. His Runes were beginning to feel warm in his hand, though that may have been his own anger making heat rise in his blood.

It’d be tight, on the optimistic end. But if he could move fast enough—

“Really, boys,” Lia snapped, stepping between Jasper and the old man in a flurry of skirts and apron strings. “Really, now. You ought both to be ashamed of yourselves.”

Jasper blinked. The old man, in the doorway, seemed to do the same.

“Furlen Challis,” Lia scolded, raising a finger in the old man’s direction like an affronted schoolmistress. “You are on the doorstep of the Sheep’s Eye, sir, which puts you on an Inn’s property with a weapon drawn.” Tossing her heavy dark curls, Lia crossed her arms. “The Sheep’s Eye is no quester’s bar, for you to brawl in. Your manners appall me, Sai Challis.”

Furlen Challis’s crossbow lowered slightly, and he scrubbed at the back of his neck like a guilty schoolboy, averting his eyes.

“Eh—that’s so,” he allowed, sounding embarrassed. “Sorry for it, Barmaid, Marm.”

Lia twitched, and Jasper was afflicted with a bizarre desire to laugh, at least until she spun on her heel to land on him instead, dark eyes flashing with offended propriety.

“As for yourself, Jasper Run,” Lia said haughtily, crossing her arms, “I will not have you barging into my Inn—” It was fortunate, probably, that Old Meyr had lapsed into staring dreamily up at the sky and was apparently too engrossed to hear her call the Sheep’s Eye hers—“and dragging people about without so much as a hullo to the staff or an order placed.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. Jasper had to resist the urge to fidget.

“Well,” he tried, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t exactly—that is—”

Ignoring him, Lia clapped her hands once to show that the matter was closed. “Right,” she said, her voice businesslike and pointedly looking at neither Jasper nor Furlen. “I believe we will all of us want a calming drink, then—which we will all of us pay for, like the respectable patrons we are. Yes?” she prompted Jasper, eyebrows raised.

“Eh—aye,” Jasper agreed reluctantly, glaring at Furlen over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Lia repeated, turning to include Furlen in the address.

“Sure enough, Barmaid Lia,” the old man mumbled, and shuffled back into the Sheep’s Eye, clearly happy to retreat.

Jasper watched the old man go, but didn’t move to follow as Old Meyr raised a hand toward his departing compatriot and tripped unsteadily after him with a slurred, “Hold up—Furl’n—how ‘bout a drink—?"

Lia gave Jasper a long look, half guilt and half warning, before she turned and followed her employer back into the Inn, shaking her head.

Jasper looked back at the cage’s lock—heavy wrought iron. Too think to crack easily, and firmly Magic-repellent. He filed this information away for consideration. Now that his anger had settled down to a steady boil in his gut, he remembered (hearing a dead man’s voice in his head, there had to be one of us left) that he had been trying not to draw attention to himself.

For a moment, the demon caught Jasper’s eye, and she looked at him with deep distrust. Her left wing hung at an odd angle from the shoulder joint.

Feeling disgust bubble up in the back of his throat—for Old Meyr and Furlen Challis and himself perhaps most of all—Jasper turned his back on her.

He was about to push open the Inn’s door—and he definitely had put a crack in it, for which he was not sorry—when he saw a vague flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

Jasper looked down. The boy Will, leaning against the front wall of the Inn, blinked back at him.

“Sorry, boy,” Jasper said. “Did you sit down, or fall?”

He offered the boy a hand up. The boy didn’t take it. He was looking at the cage.

With a little effort, Jasper didn’t follow his gaze. “You want a drink? I surely wouldn’t give you alcohol, but they must have something like water behind the bar. I can—”

“I think,” the boy said slowly, “I am a little confused.”

Jasper blinked at the boy, and then up at the cage, and laughed once, leaning against the wall next to him. “Crythian,” he said bitterly. “I nearly forgot. Have you ever even seen a demon before?”

The boy shook his head. “Never,” he said softly. “I thought—it is a little different than I expected.”

Jasper laughed harshly. The boy winced. “Well, here you are, Mr. Price. A fine specimen of demonkind. And of the way we treat them, too. And if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go now, and get drunk.”

----

When Jasper left him to stalk back into the bar, the boy pulled himself very carefully to his feet, using the outside wall of the Inn for support when he felt his knees were about to buckle.

The cage was big enough to fill almost the whole square. It was a rough frame of stout wood, on huge, thick wooden wheels, with a tangle of loose iron mesh for the sides. Whether from nerves or from fever, the boy could feel his heart pounding in his temples, so hard it seemed the creature in the cage must surely hear it, but he still took a careful barefoot step closer to the cage, leaning forward to see the light filter through in bars and shimmer on the dirty golden feathers within.

He was just growing brave enough to reach out towards the bars when the mass of blood and feathers suddenly lunged up towards him with a cry like a thousand furious crows, and clung to the bars with long-nailed hands and feet, suspended like a giant fire-colored bat and ignoring the sizzle of iron against its flesh.

The boy fell back and landed hard on the ground, too startled even to cry out.

(Inside the Inn, Magician and Barmaid paused in their discussion to cast nervous looks towards the door. Most of Meyr’s party were too drunk to pay the sudden noise much mind, though Furlen Challis did cast a suspicious glance in Jasper Run’s direction.)

“Murderous traitor!” the demon was screeching, reaching a slim arm through the bars to claw at the boy’s face, just out of its reach. “I will see that the Council has bathed in your blood!”

Staring at the split and bloody tips of the demon’s claws, the boy’s brain stopped working so completely that what fell out of his mouth was a blurted, “You—you speak Crythian?”

At the sound of his words, spoken hesitantly in his own tongue, the demon stopped her furious scrabbling at the bars. In the slanted light, he could just see a pair of burnished-gold eyes with narrow, slit pupils examining him closely. After a moment, the demon withdrew her arm.

“…you’re not him,” she said blankly, in perfect Crythian.

The boy blinked once. And then he went shivered badly, cold under the heat of his fever, because of course he knew exactly who she had mistaken him for.

“No,” he said carefully. “I’m Will Price.”

With a loud exhale, the demon retreated back from the cage’s bars. “I care not who you are, dirt-creature,” it said flatly. Now that it was not roaring at him, he could see its form properly. It was shaped like a woman, with matted hair the color of sunset and skin the color of glowing-hot metal. It—she?—looked little older than he was himself, though that meant little, for a demon.

…he had been taught that it meant little, at least.

There was a long silence. The boy, staring into the dark and dirty cage, worried at his lower lip. The demon, flicking distrustful eyes at the boy’s face, pulled her tattered wings closer about herself.

“I confess,” the boy said softly, after a time. “I was not taught your kind could—speak so well.”

“Nor I that yours could be so thin and frail,” the demon snapped, teeth bared. Its teeth were flat and even. No fangs at all.

“Why is it that these men have caged you?” he asked slowly. An idea was starting to form in his head.

The demon leaned forward to look long and hard at his face again, as though trying to gauge his intent in asking. “How shall I know that?” she said coldly. “Does a man like you need a reason to hurt a creature such as me?”

Lips parted, the boy turned those words over in his head for a long minute.

“You are not what I was expecting,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

“And you are less even than I had come to expect,” the demon countered, sounding tired. “Though you come bearing a tool for killing, and that is no surprise,” she went on, eyes flicking down to the sword hanging at his hip.

Startled, the boy blinked, then looked down, laying his hand on the glass orb at the sword’s hilt. “I do, don’t I,” he said softly. And then, because of the fever pounding in his head or the thought of his father’s words (they are beasts and worse than beasts) or the Magician’s (and of the way we treat them, too), he made a decision all at once.

“Chorus,” the boy said softly. “Will you help me cause a commotion?”

The demon drew back, startled, when the boy’s long-sword began quite suddenly to laugh.

----

Lia was still staring at Jasper in slack jawed disbelief when the door slid quietly open to admit a small yellow-haired shape, and then closed politely behind him.

Lia had almost flatly refused to believe it when the Magician claimed to have found an injured, teen-aged Crythian wandering alone in the Waste, and now she could only stare, from the seat she had taken across from Jasper, at this thin white ghost of a boy, now pausing inside the door to get his bearings. Lia would give him sixteen summers, at a guess, surely no more than that, and from his sunken hollow cheekbones and narrow bony wrists she would guess he had not even in a week, or slept in half again as long.

“That boy was traveling alone in the Waste?” she hissed at Jasper. “I don’t believe it.”

Jasper shrugged. “I wouldn’t either, yet there he stands, and quite alone, you’ll find.” A shadow crossed his face as he said those last few words, but it was gone against before Lia could really wonder what it meant.

Lia had ten immediate follow-up questions, but then the boy seemed to spot Jasper, and picked his careful—barefoot?—way across the bar to the booth she and the Magician were sharing. “Magician Run,” he said softly, in very good Galdrean, “I wonder if—oh.” At the sight of Lia, he pulled up short.

“Young Master Pryce,” Jasper said, waving a hand between boy and waitress. “May I introduce Miss Lia Taplin, finest Barmaid in Atychia Town.”

Lia opened her mouth to say that this was damning with faint praise if ever she had heard it, but then the boy smiled at her, and she forgot what she was saying.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Taplin,” the boy said, and bowed over her outstretched hand, his free hand over his heard. His eyes were bright blue, ringed with thick brown lashes, and his smile was white and straight and perfect, and he was older than she’d thought—nineteen summers, surely, or twenty even. For a moment she was certain he would press a kiss to the back of her hand, and almost as certain she would let him.

Lia took a moment to recover, and thus didn’t notice Jasper Run start and stare at the boy like he had grown a second head.

“Uh,” Lia said stupidly, feeling herself flush deeply. “Yes. It’s very nice to meet you—Sai Price.”

“Please,” the boy said, in a voice that was slightly scratchy on the surface and velvet underneath, “just Will is fine. I was thinking—ah—” He staggered very slightly, and went even paler, which Lia would have thought impossible. “Perhaps I should sit down,” he said delicately, turning his dazzling smile on Jasper, who scooted over to make room, with an odd look on his face. “I am thinking,” the boy said in his strange sweet voice, “that while I am very grateful for your hospitality, I should be going on my way, now.”

“Going?” Lia said blankly. “Where?”

The boy blinked once, smile never faltering, then opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Furlen Challis approaching from the center table.

“Here, Magician,” Furlen said, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “Sorry for the… misunderstanding, eh? We’ll be on our way now, and no need for hard feelings between us.”

Will stiffened slightly in his seat.

Jasper openly glared at Furlen, but was in the process of forcing it painfully into a smile when the entire Inn suddenly shook with a roar of snapping wood and breaking metal. Jasper dropped the glass she had been holding. Lia jumped automatically out of the booth. Meyr’s party froze in the act of getting groggily to their feet. Furlen spun towards the door, hand leaping to the crossbow slung over his shoulder. Will Price stared down at the table.

The next minute was a mad rush of bodies towards the door, frantic to see what had made such a terrible sound in the square. Lia blinked, and was alone in the Inn with Jasper Run, who was trapped in his seat by Will Price, who hadn’t moved.

“I wonder, Miss Taplin,” Will Price said politely, “if your Inn might have a back door.”

Jasper attempted to stand up, but Will continued to be firmly in the way. Jasper stared at him, beginning to get the feeling that one of them had made a horrible mistake.

“It’s only,” Will went on, still smiling at Lia, just as if there was not beginning to be a very loud and alarming commotion outside, “that I’m thinking it might be a good idea for me to leave soon and I shouldn’t want to attract to much attention to myself, being a stranger here—”

And here he was cut off by Furlen Challis howling “MAGICIAN!” at the top of his voice. Lia and Jasper both jumped badly. Will Price, tellingly, did not.

“In fact,” he said calmly instead, still not getting to his feet, (Oh, Jasper thought, oh, he can’t stand, can he, oh, wonderful--) “I think it would be prudent to leave immediately, Miss Taplin.”

Lia gaped at him. Jasper watched her wind up to shout, but the boy’s unassailably polite smile seemed to defeat her in some way, and she pointed wordlessly behind the bar, instead.

“Thank you, Lady,” Will said, his voice warm velvet, and then visibly concentrated all his strength into getting to his feet, supporting himself against the table with arms that trembled slightly at the elbows. The effort drained his face past white and into gray. Jasper, whose head was spinning, made no move to steady him.

“Hold on,” Jasper said, “what have you—”

He was cut off by the sharp sound of a crossbow bold embedding itself deeply into the wood immediately above his head. Lia made a sound of wordless protest and was ignored by all parties.

“Not a muscle, Magician,” Furlen Challis growled, clearly out of breath and already reloading the crossbow. Will Price let out a faint huff of hysterical laughter and continued wading toward the bar with his full weight supported on the tables. Jasper scrambled to his feet.

“Hold on,” Jasper protested, “I haven’t done anything this—”

Furlen fired again and Jasper stumbled backwards, just flicking his Runes from his sleeve in time to catch the bolt in a thin sheet of ice summoned from his spilled drink. As the ice smashed at his feet and soaked the toes of his boots he just had time to think But I’m not even drunk yet before he processed that Furlen was legitimately trying to shoot him and yanked Lia to her feet, grabbing his cloak and satchel from the booth with a muttered expletive.

“Why are people shooting inside my inn?” Lia yelled, and Jasper shook his head, ushering her toward the back door.

“Truly, actually not my fault this time,” Jasper said again, towing her along by her sleeve. Furlen roared something behind him about losing gold that he could worry about parsing when no one was shooting at him. Jasper hesitated for a second and then planted a hand in the small of Will Price’s back and shoved him forward. “Fuck, you too, come on—”

Lia’s face softened immediately and she put a supporting arm around Will’s shoulders; Jasper filed Will’s immediate wince away for later analysis to give himself time to spin and spark Furlen’s next incoming crossbow bolt into a burst of flame that sent a harmless but very hot ball of ashes against Jasper’s chest with a faint smack. Jasper swore and slapped the embers out before they could set the wool smoking, and then spun his thumb around his Runes again and cut his free hand sharply through the air in front of him. The Inn began to fill rapidly with smoke.

“What are you doing?” Lia wailed.

“Och, aye, don’t mind me, just trying to make sure no one gets shot,” Jasper snapped over the sound of Furlen’s curses from the direction of the front door. The back door was just visible through the thickening air, and Jasper half-vaulted the bar to yank it open and usher Lia through, towing Will with her. The boy was getting even paler, which was almost impressive and also not what Jasper was going to worry about now.

“What have you done?” Jasper barked, slamming the door behind them and smacking a hand against it; with an effort of concentration he coaxed the long-dead wood of the surrounding wall to grow creakingly in around the doorjamb, which might hold the door against the men currently shouting inside the in for a few minutes, anyway.

Will shrugged Lia’s arm off immediately and attempted to steady himself, without much success. “Either the right thing, or the wrong one,” he said, in a slightly dreamy voice. Jasper’s hand smacked against his own forehead and grabbed a handful of hair of its own accord.

“That doesn’t mean anyth—”

He was cut off by a sudden rush of heat that threatened to throw him against the side of the Inn. Lia flattened herself against the wall, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

The demon from the square landed in front of Will Price in a rush of feathers and smoke.

Her great wings settled around her. The left straightened from its bent angle in a series of stomach-churning cracks and then raised and lowered hard, sending another rush of heat against the Inn, Jasper threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes.

Will Price stared at the demon, swaying slightly, though he didn’t look more than mildly surprised. The sparks dancing along the edges of her great wings reflected in his fever-glassed eyes.

Just when Jasper was certain the Firebird was about to lunge forward and tear the boy to pieces, she jerked a taloned hand to her own feathered throat and pulled free a single plume the color of flame.

“Do not waste this,” she said in a burning voice, holding the feather in front of the boy. His face blank with surprise, Will Price reached out hesitantly to take hold of it.

The force with which she rocketed up into the sky sent Jasper stumbling back and he stared after her, ears ringing.

“What in three hells have you done?” he croaked again, watching the great bird’s sparking wings with an awed heat in his chest. The wood of the Inn smoldered behind him but Lia seemed frozen with near-religious terror and hadn’t noticed.

Will was staring down at the feather in his hand, red at the shaft and burning flame-blue toward the tip.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said, and smiled.

There was a very loud wooshing sound from the front of the building. Jasper grabbed a handful of Will’s shirts. “Fine—I’ll deal with you later. We’ve got to go.”

[capricornus-rex]

The Longing For A Familiar Feeling

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Cal sustains a grave injury while going against a Jotaz in the chambers of the tomb. You obliged to tend to his wounds and nurse him back to health.

A/N: This basically counts as a backlog because I eventually ended up getting requests on the fly. The outline has been in my notes since April lmao so here I am fulfilling my compulsiveness to have everything ticked off the list.

Though, I hope you guys will enjoy this fic as you enjoy my other stuff! Your support has been an awesome impact ever since I came back here just to write a single oneshot last January ;;w;; I’m emotional again, I should stop now. Please enjoy the fic! ^w^

Also posted in AO3

Other reference: This one

Tags: Soft! Cal Kestis, Affection Starved! Cal Kestis, Intimate! Cal Kestis

Masterlist

The Tomb of Miktrull was unexpectedly more crowded than either of you expected.

Not only did the Tomb Guardian preoccupied you and Cal, but so did the Stormtroopers, Purge Troopers, and Probe Droids!

This day just can’t get any worse, can it? You thought, imagining yourself saying it out loud through clenched teeth.

The now-malfunctioning probe droid closed in on you and you timed the exact second before it self-destructs and Force-pushed it towards that trio of scout troopers coming at you. They instantly die in the explosion.

Cal rushed to back you up after defeating the Guardian. The Purge Trooper may be dead, but there were still two more scout troopers remaining. The odds are even—which may not be so bad, at least for you.

“I hit her! W-Why did I do that?!” the scout seemed to have regretted his action for pommeling you in the stomach.

You sent a clean streak of lunges at the scout trooper, your strikes were strong enough to break his defenses—after all, what good’s an electro-baton if your enemy’s a Jedi?

Cal easily took down the scout commander, he winced when he tried to stand up straight but he hid his pain from you when he gestured on taking on the lead.

“Look, there’s the gate,” he pointed out, Force-pulling the rope and then latching it onto the mechanism.

“Be careful, there’s that Jotaz,”

“It seems to be too busy with the Stormtroopers,”

“There’s the Jedi!” a Stormtrooper pointed out and signaled some of his men to fire at you.

“Not anymore!” you blurted, immediately deflecting the blaster fire and sending it back to their direction, leading some of the projectiles to the Jotaz—however, the mindless animal thought that it was still those soldiers who were still hurting it.

All that’s left was you and Cal against the Jotaz. The fat creature roared and lumbered towards the both of you, springing itself with its feet positioned for a flatfooted kick at either of you. Luckily, the two of you were quick and then dodged in opposite directions. Cal attacked it from behind while you drew its attention in the front, dodging its backhanded swipes by sliding against the flooded floor and searing its fleshy legs in the process.

While hunched and still coming at you, Cal took the opportunity to run up on its back and pith his lightsaber into its skull. Just when the moment seemed right, the Jotaz suddenly retaliated, feeling for Cal’s next movement and smacked him hard with its claws when the creature spun to face him.

The boy was sent flying across the other side of the chamber, lying flat on his back and partially submerged in the water. You were taken aback about how suddenly this animal became perceptive—at least, just this particular one—and had to up your game. While the Jotaz asserted its dominance against Cal, you afforded that moment to finish it off; it was close to dying and so you had to do the deed, sending a flurry of attacks, denying it as chance to attack you, and a succeeding Force-push made it stagger—finally allowing you to use your finishing move against it.

“Cal!” you ran up to him, kneeling down and ignoring the water seeping onto the legs of your pants. “Cal, open your eyes!”

A metallic smell wafted in the water, even though the chamber was quite dim, there was a noticeable red tint swirling over the back of your hand underwater. The source was from Cal’s body, but you searched for the actual wound—the Jotaz had cut Cal’s back and he’s bleeding out fast.

Promptly, BD-1 popped a stim for you, you caught the green syringe and injected it into the flesh of Cal’s bicep. His eyelids shot open when the viscous green substance packed a punch in his bloodstreams. You helped him sit up and searched for something—anything—in your person to press against the wound to clot the bleeding.

Lying right next to you is the corpse of a Stormtrooper, underneath the armor plates the dead soldier wore a black, cotton undershirt; you scrambled towards the body, tore the arm plates off until the entire sleeve showed—you gave it a good, harsh tug for the seams to pop until you’ve torn a considerable length of cloth for a compress. You dipped it in the water before putting it on Cal’s wound.

“Here, just keep pressuring on this, okay?”

The ancient elevator was there at your disposal, you supported Cal on your shoulders, hobbling towards the large cylinder and used your joint weight to trigger the pressure plate. The tube rumbled and felt it rising back up to the surface.

“[y/n], I can… I can walk,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There wasn’t any harshness in his tone, but the firmness of his voice made his point clear. The two of you managed to get out of the Imperial base and made it to the part of the cliffside where there’s a pack of Stormtroopers waiting.

Cal pushed himself, still being able to fight but only utilizing half of his power; due to his growing weakness, the most he can do in combat in banking the shots, barely engaging in melee, and he couldn’t even use much of his Force abilities even if he wanted to.

“Bleeding’s stopped,” Cal mumbled under his breath.

“Keep it wrapped then,”

The healing stim could only do so much for the wounded Jedi. Cal’s pace was slow, traversing the obstacles suddenly became strenuous for him, but he pulled himself together until both of you came out of the mouth of the cave and caught sight of the abandoned village from the top of the slope. His body felt heavy and every muscle around his wound felt like tearing, he still thinks he’s doing a good job putting up a brave face.

“Come on,” he led on, walking ahead of you.

The trooper standing by the edge was startled by Cal’s entrance, barely having a second to stance himself, the soldier was easily subdued by the boy. The trooper’s companion eventually appeared and defeated him in less than a minute.

“This way, the path’s shorter,”

The two of you circled that house and climbed up the metal bridge where two more scouts are waiting on the other side. The commander was evidently more powerful and stronger than his subordinate, but that didn’t faze either of the Jedi, another Stormtrooper heard the din of the skirmish and pulled the trigger—to which Cal had skillfully deflected and sent back to the soldier.

Cal’s deflection became a window of opportunity for the scout commander and made an underhand swipe of his baton against the redhead’s torso—submitting the boy to his knees—and when the commander was about to finish him off with an overhead swing, the Stormtrooper’s body jerked at the impact of a lightsaber lobbed his way and fell limp to the soil.

“You okay?” you extended your hand in front of Cal, he gladly takes it and you pull him up carefully.

“Yeah, I’m good,”

The sluggishness in his body was apparent, his legs dragged to the direction he wanted them to go but it’s obvious that he cannot carry himself anymore. He stumbled back on his knees again seconds after he planted his feet on the ground.

It’s not plausible, you thought. What stood between you and the Mantis is a hangar that’s probably guarded by Stormtroopers and their KX droid or Haxion Brood hunters waiting to jump on you. The only solution you can find around you is take shelter in one of the houses. You became Cal’s crutch as you led him into the bigger house in this section of the village, BD-1 spliced the door controls and the door hissed open.

The little droid spotted the fusebox and overcharged it so all of the lights in the cottage flickered to life, revealing that the house is only one, large furnished space; you settled Cal on the couch to let him relax and catch his breath, while you searched for medical supplies. For ever cabinet you rummaged, you muttered an apology—supposedly for the absent residents in the home—you’re only apologizing to the wind. You came back to the common room, dropping all the supplies you’ve collected on the table.

“It’s not much but I think it’ll be enough to get you patched up,”

Cal proceeded to undo the top of his jumpsuit, color flushed in his cheeks when he saw your eyes counting the cuts and bruises on his body. Droplets plopped back into the bowl as you wrung the towel tight, he winced occasionally whenever you carefully dabbed the towel on and around the wound.

At first, you dismissed the occasional spasms of his body as pain reactions whenever the water from the towel seeped into the wound.

“I’m gonna have to put some Bacta gel on everything, okay?”

He nodded and you proceeded to scoop a pea-sized dollop of the healing gel for each injury you see. The translucent mint green gel partially obscured the redness of the cuts and the bruises—both old and fresh. Cal flinches whenever your finger presses onto his skin, rubbing the cool substance in circling motions on his injuries, but his muscles gradually soften a few seconds later.

Her hands are so gentle… He cooed in his mind. Secretly, he wanted you to find more of the wounds just so he can continue feeling your touch.

“I’m sorry, I…” Cal stammered.

You blinked, taken aback by the apology, “What are you sorry for?”

His head hung low, his eyes jumping from one bruise to the next, his lips parted to say something.

“I’m too much trouble to bring with,” he murmured.

A somber smile curled along the line of your lips, Cal’s shoulders jolted when he felt the center of your palm press against his jaw, the muscles of his face twitched when you ran your thumb across his cheek.

“No, you’re not,” you cooed lovingly. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

Your words somehow made all the tension in his muscles disappear, his eyebrows furrowed, and he released a big sigh as he placed his forehead against your shoulder. Initially, he hesitated but he still gave it a try—his arms snaked around your waist, locking his hold on you by clutching his wrist with his free hand, and allowing himself to savor this feeling. He buried his face on the crook of your neck and his eyelids fell when your fingernails massaged and raked his hair—this prompted him to pull you in closer to him until your thighs sat over his lap.

It was a pleasant feeling for the young redhead. All of a sudden, his courageous Jedi demeanor morphed into that of an innocent child. This was something he lacked for a long time and he was glad to find it in you—the person who cares so much about him, the same way he does for you.

[vocallykaix]

stressed Out

Genre: Oneshot, old disgusting writing, fluff i guess

Requested: lmao I wish

Length: 1972 words

Pairing: Seventeen S.Coups X Reader

summary: You knew of your boyfriends bad habits, you knew he was stressed and as always he seeked comfort in you as you did him.

 yes, i know he wouldn’t do what he does in this but it is FICTION, its just a story i made out of a stupid dream i had like two years ago so pls don’t kill me.

It's was Sunday which meant you had a full evening to visit Seungcheol in the dorms, You know with all the promotions they're doing right now the stress levels would be at their highest  so you decided that to treat them. get their minds of it for a while.

You made your way over to the dorms struggling with the weight of the multiple bags so you couldn’t help the grateful sigh that slipped out of your lips when you reached the dorm door. You kicked the door twice so you wouldn’t have to put the bags down. The door opened and you were met with Joshua

" Y/N?" Joshua answered grabbing some of the bags

"Thank you" you smiled trying to catch your breath. You stumbled into the messy dorm and scowled at the sight, you mumble curses as you placed the warm bags down on the coffee table grabbing all of their attention

"Food?" Dino quirks an eyebrow and you nod your head but you couldn’t fight of the smile when his eyes lit up, you wonder if these boys ever eat.

"Where Seungcheol?" You asked unpacking the first bag and handing the packages around the members, nobody answered at first so you looked up but they all avoided your eyes

"He's out on the balcony" 

you knew what they mean meant by this.

He was smoking. He's not addicted to it, in fact it was very rare he'd ever even touch them but when he was stressed he used them as a release. which you didn’t like.

He hates the fact he does it himself, you still remember that one time during the Mansae promotions Jun asked him for one but all he got was a lengthy lecture on how bad it was, even though he did it occasionally he was very against his members picking up his bad habits, he was pretty mad and kicked him back inside and locked the door so nobody could get to him. He didn't speak to Jun for the rest of the night no matter how hard Jun tried to get his attention.

You know yelling at him wouldn't do him any good since the reason he's doing it was because he felt stressed in the first place so fighting would only add fuel to the flame so you just made your way over to him, he noticed you as soon as you opened the door. He took a quick drag before placing it in the ash tray but not putting it out, he made sure he'd blown out the smoke before you'd fully reached him

"Hey" he smiled avoiding your eyes just like his members did a few moments ago, you didn't say anything but placed yourself with your back to the rail next to him and brought one of his hand in both of yours bringing it to your lips, you kept it there for a while before bringing it up to you cheek.

A small smile tugged at his cheeks, He took a few steps forward so he was directly in front of you putting both of his hands on the railing at your sides leaning down so his head was resting on your shoulder "I'm sorry" he mumbled into your neck.

"It's okay, but I'm always here, talk to me, yell at me, I don't care just get it off your chest, just because you're the leader doesn't mean you have to carry all the weight on your own, you have me and all of the other members" you say putting one of your hands on the nape of his neck and the other on his back tracing small patterns.

" I know" he placed a short kiss on your neck

"Well there's food inside so don't take to long, okay?"

He lifted his head and gave your lips a sweet kiss before returning to his original spot.

You head back in to see all the members slurping at their food while they were all occupied you tidy up random pieces of clothes left on the floor and cups! There were Cups left everywhere!

"(y/n)! Stop cleaning and come and eat while it’s warm." Joshua called

"One minute  " you call running around the remainder of the dorm collecting all the dirty clothes and throwing them in the hamper before sitting on the coach next to Hansol who offers some food which you gladly accept.

Not long after Seungcheol came back in shutting the door behind him slipping a glare at Jun. He sat on the floor in front of you picking up the food you'd made everyone leave for him

"Thank you Y/N" he said tilting his head back to look at you

"Shush" you giggle pushing his head back down to eat but you decide to leave you hands on his head and fiddled with pieces of his hair.

While Seungcheol was eating the members one by one started to return to their bedrooms until it was just the two of you.

"Here" he said knocking you out if your day dream, he held a piece of meat on a spoon over his head to bring it to your mouth you hum as a thank you "I feel so stiff lately" he says rubbing his shoulders "they're really pushing us hard this time"

"But this is too much" you sigh beginning to massage his shoulders " your all so tired and it's not fair" you say rolling your eyes

" I know, I know but look at us” he laughed “we’re basically famous. Now come on." He stands up and grabs your hand.

As soon as he saw the bed he ran and jumped in the middle and rubbed his face on the bed sheet " get changed idiot" you say rolling him off the bed

"Yes ma'am" 

It took a few seconds for him to remove his clothes and replace his outfit with a single baggy shirt.  you turned to face the wall and put the blankets up to your chin to get comfy, you felt the blanket lift and then Seungcheol drape his arm around you and place a kiss at the back of your neck

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" You say turning to face him "what?" He says lifting a single eye brow

"What's stressing you out? You know what would happen if the Carats found out right?"

He sighs and avoids eye contact looking at the wall behind you

"Hey look at me" you say grabbing rubbing his arm "spill it, whats wrong"

" it's nothing, you don't need to worry"

"If it was nothing you wouldn't be like this" he was silent for a moment

"It's hard. It's so hard....I feel like if I mess up it's the end for all of us... and Jihoon I see him spend hours and hours locked away in his studio to give us songs and I can't do anything to help him, i can see how stressed he gets and how he goes days without sleeping, and i cant help even when i try, i just make it worse, what kind of leader can't help their members... I feel unworthy of the position and that the band could still be fine without me, maybe even better...They're all working so hard and I feel as though I let them down. Today we had to do another hour on the choreography because of me, and I could see how tired everyone was but because of me we had to do another hour and I feel like shit because it's all my fault. I feel like I can't even tell the members how I feel because we're too close and if they see me brake it could effect all of them and I don't want to be anymore of a burden then I already have been." By the end of his venting a few tears had made there way down his cheek even though he tried to wipe them as soon as they fell, you knew it hurt him.

You grab his head and pull it into you chest and stroke the back of his head to sooth him which made him cry harder, you put one hand on his back and the other remained in his head and you rub circles again to try and console him while tears slowly made there way down your own cheeks " your not a burden Seungcheol, we all love you and you do all you possibly can, don't forget how important you are to the team! Ever" you say in a whisper,you continue to try to comfort him until he fell asleep.

You woke up with Seungcheol's head still in your chest, you smile at his peaceful face, it broke your heart to see him in this state he was last night, he's never gotten to this point before and you hope he never does again. Without thinking you begin to trace patterns across his face, admiring it.

Everything was peaceful until you hear a Bang from the kitchen. You don't think you've ever moved so fast especially in the morning, your mind was racing, one of them could of gotten hurt, what it if would affect how they perform! they have a come back coming up!

You skid through the bedroom door way to see Soonyoung and Seungkwan standing around three broken mugs with towels in there hand and Soonyoung had Seungkwan in a headlock but when they saw you they immediately released each other “Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you” you exhale putting you hands on your temples "what are you doing?" you say rubbing your temples

"Well he hit me with a towel" Seungkwan says pointing at Soonyoung

"ME?!" Soonyoung laughed

"It was you!" Seungkwan said rolling his eyes, they were too caught up arguing to see you walk up to them, you snatched the towel out of Soonyoung’s hand "GET OUT!" You say whipping them with the towel as they ran away.

You begin to clean up the mugs carefully not to cut yourself "idiots" you mumble, well at least.  your fully awake now it was probably better to get a head start on breakfast anyway making 13 meals wasn’t an easy task.

"Seungkwan go get every one up, please" you say finishing the last few eggs.

It wasn't long before you hear Seungkwan running around the door singing loudly, you turn to watch him but that wasn't a smart idea when your making some thing on a very hot pan, in short you burnt the side of your hand making you hiss in pain. Trying to ignore it you continue to make the eggs but someone soon came behind you and pulled you In front of the sink and turned on the cold water "Seungcheol! the eggs going to burn" you say trying to move back to the stove "stop being stubborn and keep it under the water, okay?" In your place Seungcheol puts the remanding eggs on the plate and picks them up to take to the boys " "I told you you don't need to cook for us"

"It's not like I'm cooking a lot and I know you'd go to practice and just get fast food if I didn't"

He shakes his head and puts the food on the table yelling the other members before returning to you.

"Thank you anyway" he says bear hugging you "Is your finger okay now?"

" yeah, don't worry" you chuckle hugging him back

" I love you" he says swaying with you

" I love you too" you smile

"EWWWWW" you hear Seungkwan scream covering Dino's eyes, Seungcheol just threw a place mat at him a resumed the hug.

You were so utterly in love.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

Gerard Way smut (I don’t know what to name this so this is the title I guess)

((Y/D/N) = Your daughter’s name (I didn’t want to use Bandits’ name as I don’t entirely feel comfortable giving Bandit a different mum who gave birth to her but if you want to imagine it’s her, go for it! ^-^ also, the daughter will be 8 in this imagine))

(Just so you know and don’t get confused, the nickname for (Y/D/N) that Gee uses will be chico as it means small boy or child in the Spanish language. I don’t know why I decided to use this one, but I guess because it sounds adorable, I don’t fuckin’ know lmao)

 Also I wrote this for @hesitantlynz so go check her out!

(Y/N) watched her daughter as she stayed sat by the window, waiting for her dad to come back home. Gerard had been to the UK for a festival in hopes to further promote a comic book he was writing, ‘Doom Patrol’ for a week and today was the day he was coming back. Since (Y/D/N) had tallying the days off her notebook (where she had written the date he told her that he should be home), she knew when he’d be back and now had been waiting all day by the window to see his car pull into the driveway. It had been about a month since he left. He wasn’t devastated when he couldn’t bring the two due to school, but he was most certainly upset at the thought of being unable to be with them for that long. Sure, he was used to being away from his family because of tours and constant shows but he still felt lonely from time to time.

Since (Y/D/N) had parked herself on the cushioning on the window sill at around 11:00am, she had barely moved. She was adamant on staying there and not missing his arrival even if it meant not playing with any of her toys or being bored the whole of the day. (Y/N) smiled sympathetically as the young girl’s eyes continuously began to give up on her, the lids on her eyes falling too far down as her tiredness began to slowly take a hold on her.

Despite the drowsiness that held her on the brink of falling asleep, she forced her eyes to remain open. She had made it this far, she wasn’t giving up now! She was almost there; it was a feeling that kept her going…for about 30 seconds. (Y/N) chuckled to herself at watching the event unfold. She picked up a blanket that she had put on the sofa for this inevitability, and gently placed it on (Y/D/N)’s small frame before sitting beside her and taking over on watch for Gerard to come home. Within the house, everything was quiet beside the gentle breathing of (Y/D/N) and the cats as they slept, the quiet sound of whatever song was playing on a rock station that she had put on for background sound that drifted from the speakers of the TV, and the ticking hands on the clock. She looked over, the hands telling her that it was 8:00pm. ‘Perfect timing’ she thought to herself, reminding herself that it was bedtime for little (Y/D/N).

Her hand gently laid on the girls back and rubbed small circles as she gazed out the window into the darkness, the only illumination coming from their windows and the street lights that lined the road which gave the night a warm, orange glow. She smiled to herself as she fell into her mind, remembering how Gerard would hold her at night; his arms would always sit no lower than her hips but no higher than her stomach, his head just behind hers, his lips occasionally leaving wet kisses onto her exposed neck, the warm breath that hit her skin as he slept, the occasional snore that was always usually directly behind or into her ear. She loved every second of it. To her knowledge, there was never a day that she disliked these moments. Surely they were the second-best thing of the day, the first being the actual day itself usually.

A small ‘ding!’ from the coffee table alerted her enough to bring her back to reality. She pushed herself off the seating before walking over, swiping the phone from the surface, being careful not to drop it again. She had already made that mistake before. Luckily the screen didn’t smash and the phone worked fine after the incident, but there was no way she could be lucky a second time.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late. Traffic is hell. I don’t think I’ve moved from this spot for at least ten minutes. Hopefully it will clear up soon and I’ll be back in about an hour or two. See you soon xx” she read aloud to herself. She allowed a sigh to slip past her lips as she sat back down, beginning a reply, “Hopefully it does. Can’t wait to see you! Now stop texting and keep your eyes on the road ;) xx” She placed the phone beside her as she adjusted her gaze so she looked outside again, still waiting for him.

At least two hours passed before she heard the gravel crunching outside as a car pulled in. The sound pulled her out of her bored state and her eyes focused on the car that was now parked in front of the house. She smiled as she gently shook (Y/D/N), wanting the girl to be able to accomplish her mission of seeing him as he at least got out the car. The young girl awoke, her eyes still half closed. (Y/N) pointed outside as Gerard opened the car door and stepped out, smiling as he saw the two sat by the window. (Y/D/N) looked out of the glass, an ecstatic smile breaking out on her young face. “Daddy!” she squealed, climbing off the window sill and running to the door. (Y/N) chuckled as she unlocked the front door, letting the girl run out and hug her father.

He bent down, swooping her off her feet as she ran into his arms, a giggle leaving her lips as he held her close, happy to be able to hug her once again after so long. “Hey there chico! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How you doing?” He exclaimed, gazing into her soft hazel eyes lovingly. (Y/D/N) responded with another giggle. He smiled, running a hand through her soft strands of hair. His nickname for their daughter always made (Y/N)’s insides melt and bubble with happiness. “Come on then chico, let’s get you to bed” he told her, walking into the warm embrace of the home. “I’ll speak with you in a moment” he whispered lowly into (Y/N)’s ear, his lips brushing the smooth skin which sent a shudder down her spine and making the excitement in her underwear more noticeable �� at least to her. He climbed up the stairs talking to (Y/D/N) as if nothing had just happened.

About five minutes had passed now and she was sat on the sofa, listening for the gentle thud of his heavy shoes and the quiet tap! tap! tap! down the stairs as he tried to keep quiet. She knew what was coming and she was just barely containing the exhilaration but she was soon rewarded as the onomatopoeia she had been waiting for began. It seemed like he was purposefully being slow to tease her, but it was hard to tell. As she heard him reach the bottom step she stood up and walked around to meet him halfway, his lips latching onto hers, his body pushing her towards the wall. As her back met with the wall beside the TV, she moaned into the kiss. His hand slid up into her shirt and under the wire of her bra, his hand taking her breast and massaging it roughly with his fingers, the other hand finding its way to the bottom of her thigh and pushing her up so it sat around his waist. She lifted her other leg so she hovered above the floor with all her trust in his strength. They stood there, melting into the kiss (even though they were making out and in fact not kissing) before he began to move them up the stairs and into the bedroom. He nudged the door open, walking in and then dropping her on the bed, removing his grey hoodie that he rarely took off, his green coat already on the floor from when he was upstairs. Once it was lifted from his chest, he pushed his undershirt off, revealing his creamy torso and stomach with a little bit of hair on his chest. He paused. She then noticed the uneasy and nervous gaze in his eyes as he clutched onto the shirt in his hand, suddenly not feeling entirely comfortable with himself. This was out of character for him as he now didn’t give a shit with how much he weighed; he had come to terms with it and knew it was because of his medication. Plus, he’s 40 now! He’s allowed to be the weight he is! He always was allowed but because of the band, he wanted a good image. “Hey, it’s okay,” she spoke, “I don’t care about how big your stomach is. You look beautiful to me. You always have done and you always will.” The unnerving look in his eyes faded and a smile cracked out on his face before he leant down and began to kiss her again, the kiss quickly turning rough again. She shuffled further up the bed, him following her until her head hit the pillow. They tore apart with lungs burning with a passion for oxygen. They took this chance to be rid of all clothing on their body, his wet lips beginning to plant small kisses from the valley between her breasts all the way down to her lower stomach, his tongue poking out as he lowered slowly to her core and gently licking a stripe up her slit. He began circling her entrance with the end of his tongue, teasing her before pushing it in fully, curling it as he slid it in and out quickly picking up a rhythm. Her hands reached down to tug at the locks of his hair, pulling on the strands as his tongue left her before tracing the letters of his name on her clit, two fingers pushing into her and following the same rhythm that his tongue had. She had tried to keep her moans to a minimum as not to wake up their daughter down the hall but the pleasure soon became too much and he had to hold a hand over her mouth as she began to reach her peak, hitting an orgasm, her cum dribbling out of her.

He began to crawl up until he reached her face again before going onto his knees, taking his length in his hand with one hand on the headboard to steady himself. She moved a little so she had better access to him before taking his cock in his mouth, one hand replacing his at the base. He let out a low moan, his breaths coming out unsteady and unstable. She ran her tongue over the slit of his cock, her eyes watching his every move with a concentration on his eyes. Soon enough, he followed her lead, his cum shooting down her throat as he thrusted uncontrollably into her mouth with much pleasure and groans leaving his lips every now and then.

Slowly, his heart rate calmed down and he pulled his cock out of her mouth before laying back down and beginning to kiss her once again, his hands lifting her legs around his hips as he took his length into his hand once again and resting it at her entrance. “You ready?” he asked quietly, one hand on the side of her head as to ensure that he would not fall from above her. She bit her lip and nodded, her seemingly calm and confident demeanour interrupted by a strong moan of pleasure as he slid into her. They stayed there as one for a moment with neither of the two doing anything to advance the situation. It took a few minutes but she slowly became used to the feeling of him inside her so she nodded to him to tell him that it was okay to move. He moved his hips so he could slide in and out much easier, his head falling to her neck as he began to thrust into her. As he thrusted, she moaned out, enjoying the feeling of someone pleasing her in this way as opposed to a toy. His lips attached to the skin of her neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin and the tight feeling of her second orgasm that was fast approaching became apparent in her lower stomach again. She moaned out his name, her hand flying to his long locks of brown hair, loose strands tickling her face as he pushed in faster and faster. “I-I’m close…” she whined, her legs locking behind him as he took a tight hold of her hips as he thrusted much harder with a deep concentration on her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep her moans under control with a quiet volume. He grunted into her ear, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips before the tight feeling became too much and the waves of pleasure as the second orgasm for them both washed over them, the euphoria seeming very out of this world.

As the effects of the pleasure wore off he eased himself out, the pair whining as her warmth left him and at the feeling of emptiness within her. He rolled beside her, pulling her into his arms, her head resting on her chest. She smiled as she felt his heartbeat under her ear reminding her of the days when they first got together. “I love you” he whispered into her hair after pressing a chaste kiss onto her head. Her smile got wider as his words. “I love you too.”