#and the armorer should show them. in front of their eyes. the parts of the gun. they should open it and show that it's not loaded.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

I didn't realize Alec Baldwin was on trial already but if he doesn't get found guilty .........

[muddyorbsblr]

remote consults behind enemy lines [kinktober 2023: formal wear…and role play(?)]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! 'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: 2020, during the filming of Loki Season 1

Summary: You casually reveal that you consulted on costume design for another supersuit, leading to an unexpected reaction from your boyfriend

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, don't u dare even try me); kinda public sex; unprotected p in v; role play; clothed sex; language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; Reader's wearing a dress; Tom's wearing Loki's coronation armor; mango namedrop (i couldn't resist 🤣)

This was absolute torture in the most devilishly delicious way. Sitting in front of the monitor and watching your boyfriend acting out a scene wherein Loki was about to step in to the role of Crown Prince of Asgard because Thor had "gone missing" due to one of the god's shenanigans turning his brother into a literal frog, wearing the very costume that had the internet running amok with how it made certain parts of him so prominently shaped that Marvel's considerably lower budget back then had to make room for extra editing to keep the final cut family friendly.

You never thought the day would come that you would see him in that costume just mere feet away from you. And to have him take on that majestic stance with his feet shoulder width apart and arms outstretched as he basked in the applause and praise that the people of Asgard were showering him with?

"Fucking end me," you muttered as soon as Kate yelled for them to cut the cameras.

"Okay now I get why they needed the extra CGI budget for that bulge fucking Christ on a crutch," Bryan commented, lightly nudging at your shoulder to snap you out and stop you from shamelessly staring. "Why madam, should I go get you a paper towel or something for that bit of drool at the corner of your mouth?"

"Better get one for yourself as well, Bry. Now stop ogling my boyfriend before I get tempted to check if those prop daggers have any stab in them."

He gave you a playful scandalized look before walking away, making a big show of wiping his sleeve at the corner of his mouth to get a laugh out of you.

You turned back to face the monitor, only to have your face inches away from the 'fabled mango' that had a rather large corner of the internet in absolute shambles whenever a picture would be released that had it in plain view. Your eyes traveled upwards until they met with Tom's ocean blue ones, your boyfriend greeting you with a wide smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes that he was barely trying to keep contained.

"I suggest you take a step back unless you're fully prepared to give all our colleagues a show," you warned him, starting to mirror the expression on his face.

"But this is such an enticing view, sweetheart, why would I want to give it up?" he shot back, fingertips lightly tracing along your jawline. "And I highly doubt that you're fully prepared to give our colleagues a show."

You only responded to him by slowly running your tongue across the top row of your teeth. "Are you sure about that, sweetie?" That made him take a step back, causing you to break out into a wide grin and scrunching your nose at him. "So how's the costume feel?" you asked him while you two walked toward his trailer.

"Surprised it still fits, if I'm being honest," he answered you with a slight laugh. "Actually it might…fit a little better than it did a decade ago."

"Ooh, good you're still here." You both gave Kate a small wave as she jogged up to you. "I was about to tell you to make your way to Costuming to see if you needed any adjustments. Looks like you read my mind." She gave a quick look at your now joint hands, Tom hooking his finger around one of yours. "Y/N, I'm sure you can handle any adjustments he'll need so you two can go and work on that while we're setting up for the shot with the prop frog. And in case you two wanna say hi, Chris will be here today to record his lines as Frog Thor."

As if on cue, you heard a booming voice from several yards away. "Hi, Brother! Hi, tiny terror! Am I gonna be an uncle yet??"

"Not yet, Chris!" you both hollered back at him, making the Australian wave his hand in a jokingly dismissive manner at you before stepping in to the ADR area.

"There is something new about this costume now that I quite like," Tom spoke up again when you were just outside his trailer. "When I first had it, the inner layer under the metalwork used to be just one piece, like a bodysuit. Made it a whole affair just to go to the bathroom. Now it's a shirt and trousers setup and has a suspender mechanism worked into the metal to secure the bottom half in place. Made my day much easier."

"Well you're very welcome, sweetie," you responded absentmindedly, closing the trailer door.

"This was your work, goddess?"

"Uhm...yeah. I did some remote consultation last year for another superhero costume. The actor's main concern was how he'd pee while wearing the thing, so I drew up some sketches, made his suit a bit modular. But it was gonna be a conflict of interest if they got me for costume design considering my involvement with Marvel, so we minimized my work to justify not including my name in the credits."

You let out a tiny yelp feeling him walk behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his nose traced a line from your collarbone to your ear. "Hmm…conflict of interest? So DC, then?" he rasped, nipping at your earlobe.

"Uh huh," you answered him breathlessly, leaning in to his embrace. "What I learned making the sketches for the Batsuit, I adapted into the adjustments for your costumes."

Something in the air shifted once the words left your mouth. His hold on you shifted into what almost felt…possessive. "Precious little mortal." The growl in his voice had you growing weaker in his arms. "Consulting behind enemy lines. For the man that I knew for a fact once held your attention so…fervently."

"Why sweetie, are you--Are you jealous? It was a college crush, and a light one at that." You turned in his arms to pull him into a quick kiss that quickly became heated, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs to lift you off your feet and press you against the wall of his trailer's tight entryway.

"It should matter not, so long as you remember that you are mine," he murmured against your lips, securing your body against the wall before moving to undo the suspenders under the metal armor by his hips. "Do you know what I particularly enjoy about your modifications, sweet Y/N?"

You shook your head at him, feeling your arousal pooling between your legs as he smirked at you, hearing the snap of the suspenders from underneath the armor coming off.

"Ease of access," he said simply, shuffling his pants down his thighs and freeing his quickly hardening length. His smirk widened into a devilish grin when he slipped his hand between your legs to find nearly drenched panties. "So gloriously eager…" he teased, moving the fabric to the side.

A high-pitched moan slipped from your lips when he eased his way into you, inch by torturous inch, in shallow thrusts. "Tom, sweetie I--"

"Thomas isn't here right now, pet."

Oh God. Oh fuck. "Loki?!"

"Such a clever little mortal," he grunted, starting to move in shallow thrusts, the tip of his cock easily brushing against a spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars especially from this angle. "Tell me you're mine." He let out a staggered breath, groaning into the crook of your neck as your warmth surrounded him. "T-Tell me who this gloriously tight p-perfect little quim belongs to."

"Y-You--oh f-fuck!" you told him shakily. "I belong to you. I'm yours, I'm all yours."

Obscene moans bounced off the walls of his trailer as he bit and sucked at your neck, working his hand between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. "Louder, darling. Say my name. Scream it. Let everyone who dares listen know that only I may claim you like this."

Your body started to shake with how hard your climax hit you, your walls fluttering and clenching around him while you let out a guttural scream of "LOKI!" that might've scratched your throat halfway raw. Before you could say it again, he slanted his mouth over yours, muffling both your screams in a heated kiss that felt rife with desperation as you felt his release starting to fill you, his hips jerking in a staggered rhythm.

It barely crossed your mind that this might get you into a heaping pile of trouble. That you might have just put your job at stake for a quickie with your boyfriend. He broke the kiss with a slight gasp, kissing a path from your cheek down to your neck while you both took deep breaths coming down from your high.

When you heard his breaths grow softer you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and upper back, lightly stroking his hair before you tried to talk, the intensity of the last few minutes still having you struggling to form any coherent words. "Tom?"

You felt a slight wave of relief when he answered you softly. "Yes, goddess?"

"Look at me, sweetie." You pressed a soft kiss to his temple before he pulled away from your neck, nearly blacked out eyes meeting your own. "I love you. Only you." Your hands went to frame his face, thumbs tracing along the lines of his cheekbones. "I don't think I'll ever…No one else could ever--"

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in to cut you off with a kiss, the rest of the words you struggled to say dying off with a whimper at the back of your throat. You still couldn't find it in you to say them anyway. You're it for me. You're the last man I'm gonna love. There won't be an 'after you'.

"You know that, right?" you murmured against his lips, settling for those words instead.

"I do." He quickly stole another kiss from you before continuing, "Some days it just gets to me. The thought that someday someone might--"

"That will never happen." You crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him close enough that he could rest his forehead on yours. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you're kinda stuck with me, sweetie."

"I may want to get that in writing one of these days," he shot back, his hands lightly grasping your sides before he pressed your bodies even closer together, if such a feat were even possible. "And if anything, you're stuck with me. There's no version of my future that I could ever see that doesn't have you with me."

He started to move inside you again, leaving you no choice but to process his words later, his hips moving in long, slow thrusts that had you feeling every devastating inch of him. "Again?" you whimpered breathlessly.

"You should know me well enough by now, goddess," he whispered, a devilish smile gracing his features and searing an image so erotically charged into your memory. "Once is never enough."

That was the day you agreed that quickies would never be an option again moving forward.

A/N: Another Kinktober 2023 story in the bag! Wait hold on…if I knocked out two prompts in this (kinda sorta), does this mean I only have 2 more to go before I get my initial goal or are y'all gonna absolutely snipe me ded if I pull that technicality? 🤣

I know I said 'bath/shower' with Magnus was next but I parallel-wrote that with this and this one got the banging out first while the other still has me blocked because smut is just…it's not my strong suit okay--it takes me 5-7 business days to get it done 🥴 Currently parallel writing that and the Conrad piece for 'slow & soft' and the President Loki piece for 'fingering' all at the same time so only time will tell which one of them will go up next 🫡

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

kinktober 2023 taglist: @azula-karai-27

[guiltysungho]

— let the light in

genre : tags. domestic, angst, fluff, comfort, reader is in a slump

pairing. bsf!kim donghyun x gn!reader

wordcount. 726

a/n. this went a completely different direction than I intended but i still wanna put it out there, im not used to writing like this so it might not be perfect but i hope you enjoy reading it. its not too sad dw.

Once again you were stuck in your room completely shut off from everything and everyone, you hated when this happened but it seemed to have become a part of your life. You rolled over on the bed where your phone was charging right at the edge of your mattress, letting the bright led light flash in your eyes as you adjusted to the feeling of being awake after what felt like an endless slumber.

I’ll be there in 10 - Donghyun 5 mins ago

Your knight in shining armor, he had been spamming you throughout the week hoping you’d reply him more than 3 letters. He knew your moods too well to not know what was going on, after 5 years of being close you’d hope 2 letters was enough for him to read the signs.

You rolled back belly flat against the mattress, drowning in the darkness of your cave waiting for the jingle of his keys to help you out of your slump. Maybe your patience was wearing out, your eyes grew heavier as you waited, almost ready to shut, and then you heard it, the jingle.

“I brought you take out, I’m gonna come in so like don’t be naked” He called out from the other side of your room door, you somehow managed to crawl out of bed and swing the door wide open for him before falling right back on it, you loved your bed.

“Feed me.” You groaned in pain, jokingly, somehow you were able to joke.

He smiled at you, and your face muscles mirrored like a reflex. You sat up on your bed watching him walk around your room, first to the desk placing all the treats far from your reach and then the curtains, it was inevitable, your begging was in vain as he let the light in.

“It’s a really nice day out, if I feed you we should take a walk, deal?” as usual bargain, nothing came easily in this life, you shook his hand reluctantly.

When you think about it, it felt almost comical the way you’d regain life whenever he showed up, before Donghyun you hated being bothered whenever you felt this wave of utter lack of willingness. You would figure it out yourself and that could take months, but now you didn’t even have to say anything for someone to just be there.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t do these things on your own but some times were harder than others and knowing someone cared enough to help you made it easy again. You didn’t know what it made you, if it meant anything outside of your friendship, but you felt loved and that was more than enough.

“You’re doing such a good job, don’t worry too much I’m here for you,” sweet words of comfort that helped, like he could read your mind and sense your doubts just so he could reassure you later.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess” He shook his head, dismissing your comment,

“You’re not a mess baby, I’m doing this because I love you,” Your eyes glistened with heavy tears just waiting to drop, the feeling of his soft hands on your cheeks made you close your eyes, finally letting them loose as you took in a deep breath, a soft pout on your lips as you looked back up at him.

“I love your pout, and I love your smile. I’m working hard to see that beautiful smile again,” his thumbs brushing away the droplets staining your cheeks, he made you feel like you didn’t constantly have to put up a front.

That you could actually be human and he wouldn’t decide one day that he wanted a doll, his words made you wonder the depth of his love, was this just another moment that friends shared. Did he mean them the same way they sounded to you?

The weight of your worries had shifted from one thing to another, walking down the river by his side you wonder how many meanings could “i love you” have, could you be loved even more than this?

Thinking about it, made your cheeks burn up, placing your fingers on your lips trying to not get carried away, while he was right there but the smile was too strong to hide, turning your face away from him as you succumbed to the feeling.

“There it is.”

[rinstaro]

Tbh I don’t have an idea for this one kore, but smth horny asf with my bb time or even wild cause I’ve been having a bit of a rough time

hope ur well and thank you!!

-💫

of course, anything for you dear. this took so long!!!! sorry i’ve been so dead lately, life is tryna whoop my ass. i was playing botw and changed into the barbarian set and…… yeah. you know how it “bolsters links fighting spirit”? in my head it just makes him a lot more feral so it makes him horny too. i hope you like it! and i hope you feel better soon! i promise that these rough times will pass 🌟

cw: he’s a little mean, doggy, forest sex, reader is implied to be shorter than him, slight predator/prey dynamics, y’all are just messing around… or are you? reader has a vagina no pronouns, not proofread <3

minors do not interact.

you played with wild’s stuff all the time. he didn’t mind so long as you didn’t hurt yourself. his swords, his bows, and especially his armor. no matter how many rupees he’d spend buying you whatever clothes you wanted, you were always fascinated with his instead.

his knights armor was heavy and sturdy. his climbing gear showed off his toned arms. his sheikah armor had you drooling.

the only set you hadn’t seen on him was the barbarian armor. you always wondered about the set. the headpiece was just a little scary, so you asked him what the armor was for when it covered so… little.

“it makes me a little more…. it’s easier to fight.”

he left it at that, but it made you curious. so it made him stronger, but you wanted to see that firsthand. you asked him if he’d put it on for you to which he shied away. “i don’t think you’d like it…”

you rolled your eyes, begging him to do it, just once. he eventually caved. when he did, you immediately realized why he was hesitant to show you his armor.

he looked fucking divine.

the way it exposed the best parts of him had you salivating. you circled him, trailing your gaze up and down his body. the tattoos that manifest on his torso and legs... you wanted to taste them for yourself. “i cannot believe you hid this from me,” you mumbled. you wrapped your arms around him, tracing his skin with your fingertips. you could hear his breath hitch as you teased him relentlessly.

suddenly he grabbed your wrists, looking at you with a hardened gaze.

“i’m not sure if we should… do that right now.”

you could tell wild was holding himself back, so you decided to kick it up a notch. you dropped to your knees in front of him, batting your eyelashes when he hisses. your hands trailed down to his thighs, nails scratching the skin ever so slightly. “come on, you don’t wanna have fun? at least let me– oh!”

the grip on your wrists tightened, and you were locked in place. your heated gaze met his, and you shuddered. he looked like he was about to eat you alive. wild’s nostrils flared as he stared down at you, seemingly trying to keep himself together. he slowly leaned down, eyes never leaving yours.

“sure, let’s have some fun.”

that’s how you ended up deep in the forest, heart racing and wild hot on your trail. this was harder than you thought, but it was definitely exciting. the deal he made you was simple. just a quick game of hide and seek.

“you get five minutes. if you win, you get your way. if i win, i get mine.”

you took off as soon as he uttered the word ‘run’, excited giggles ringing in his ears as he watched you. he waited til you were out of sight, and even gave you an extra minute. after counting, he started walking at a leisurely place in the direction you took off in, grinning to himself.

sure, this was a little unfair. you didn’t stand a chance against him without the set, let alone with it. but you didn’t need to know that. you wanted to have some fun, so he’ll entertain you. wild wondered how long you’d last when he finally got you under him.

you stopped to catch your breath, hands on your knees as you panted. surely this was far enough. you'd been running at full speed for a while, and you were sure at least 2 minutes had passed. you had to have gotten pretty far.

only moments later did you hear a loud “thud” from behind you. you spun around to be met with trees and shrubs, the silence making you uneasy. your eyes scanned the area only to find nothing. probably just some animal, right? even if it was, you weren’t gonna take the chance. you slowly backed away in the opposite direction of the noise, keeping an eye out for any movement.

when you turned back to run, you were met with the hard surface of someone’s chest. you groaned, rubbing your nose before your eyes widened at the sight of your boyfriend.

“i win, right?”

you opened your mouth to protest, quickly being cut off by him gripping your chin. his hold was gentle but the look in his eyes was anything but. “l-link?” he wore a twisted little grin, as if he’d just caught his first meal in days.

“so we’re doing this my way. i’ll still give you one choice. do you want it here, or do you want me to chase you back home?” your knees buckled at his words, your mind reeling. you couldn’t even begin to speak, sputtering out nothing but nonsense. wild huffed, grabbing your wrists and pinning you face first to the nearest tree. he pinned your arms on the side of you and spoke, “don’t move.” you nodded hastily.

“you know you look really cute when you run? it was hard not to take you right there. the wait was worth it, though,” he grinned. his fingers traced your spine, his hunger only growing as he watched you shiver.

wild placed a hand over your eyes and started trailing love bites down your neck. you whined. the bites felt hard enough to leave marks, yet you could still tell he was holding back. you pushed your ass back against him, trying to rile him up.

your boyfriend growled, suddenly biting down harshly on your neck. you whimpered loudly as your arms twitched with the need to move, which didn't go unnoticed.

"look at you, still trying to be a good pet. ah, its a little late though. you've already pushed me to my limit," he snarled, landing a smack to your ass. he watched the flesh jiggle, humming contentedly. without warning, your bottoms were ripped from you and thrown to the ground. the roles were now swapped, wild on his knees before you- well, behind you.

you felt him part your folds with his thumbs, watching your sex drip with arousal. you squealed at your sudden nudity, arms reaching back to grab him. he quickly put a stop to that, grabbing both wrists in one hand. "on the tree. don't interrupt me."

you obeyed his orders, bringing your arms back to yourself and placing them on the tree. once he was satisfied with your position, he gave no warning before licking a long stripe up your cunt. you moaned shakily, the pleasure between your legs making you tremble. wild hummed, tongue swiping across your clit at a rapid pace.

he ate you like a man starved, your position not allowing you any room to squirm. you moaned his name over and over, and it only seemed to make him more ravenous. a mix of spit and slick dripped down his chin while his nails dug into your thighs. he'd been waiting for this for far too long. "l-link, im gonna- keep going, please!"

your boyfriend wasn't listening to your whines, tongue fucking you until your eyes crossed. he was doing this for him.

only a couple moments later did you gush all over his face, legs shaking in his grasp. wild didn't stop even when you whimpered for him to slow down. he made sure you were licked clean before pulling away from your cunt.

"b-babe what- oh!"

you weren't sure when he undid his belt, but you felt the head of his cock push against your folds.

"you always taste fucking amazing. be sure to give me another taste later," he whispered in your ear. his buttercup blonde hair tickled your shoulder as he leaned over you. "that wasn't loud enough for me, though. maybe i just need to be a little rougher, then you'll scream for me right?"

without another word, he pushed his cock into your cunt making your eyes roll back into your head. it took no time for you to adjust to his size, and he took no time in starting up a mean pace. the sound of his hips slamming into yours rang in your ears, every pleasurable thrusts making your head spin. one hand left your hips to grab your hair, tugging slightly. you winced, the pain sending heat right to your cunt.

"oh, you like that? squeezing me so hard— so cute, baby, thinking you could beat me," he groaned. you could only respond with loud moans, your brain turned to mush. "sound so pretty, gonna cum?" you nodded frantically in response, begging for him to keep going. he watched your cunt suck him in, your ass jiggling with every mean thrust.

"p-please, feels good!" your words slurred together, drool beginning to drip from your chin. it was too much and yet you wanted more. he was hitting your g spot with every thrust, his balls slapped against your clit, and you couldn't imagine a better way for this game of yours to end. you heard him snarl before he picked up his pace.

"f-fuck! 'm my god yes!" a few more thrusts and you were spasming in between him and the tree. wild stopped his movements, relishing in the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. he chucked to himself as he watched you writhe. he suddenly frowned, realizing he hadn't been able to see your face when you came. oh, well. he'll just make you cum again.

wild pulled out, turning you around and staring you in the eyes. he then watched as your chest rose and fell, mouth hung open as you tried to catch your breath. the ferocity that was temporarily sated was now rising again.

you yelped in surprise when he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. your back rested against the tree as you furrowed your brows in confusion. "b-babe?"

"you're so gorgeous. how many times do you think i could fuck you til your legs gave out?" he questioned casually, a dark smile on his face. your legs clenched against him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders while he held you up by your thighs. you swallowed thickly, unable to answer. "hm? three? four? or more than that? well, i guess we'll see..."

wild never broke eye contact as he slipped his cock back into you, not even giving you a moment before fucking you at a savage pace. your back arched against the tree as you squirmed in his grasp. he pounded himself deeper into your cunt, his growls getting louder and your vision beginning to turn white. he was too much, fucking you so mercilessly and yet you couldn't bring yourself to want to stop. is this what he meant? he thought you wouldn't like this?

"l-link!"

"hm?" he answered, never faltering in his pace.

"harder!" your boyfriend's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he huffed in disbelief. you just continued to surprise him. he adjusted his grip on your thighs, leaning in so that you two were nose to nose.

"i've always wanted to see how much you could take."

[moodymisty]

I mean you got anything sweet for Blood Angels...

Though my brain keeps jumping to Flesh Tearers but I feel like that's just me trying to get myself to write for Flesh Tearers (and Lamenters)

(Rambling idea below)

I mean lets be honest Blood Angels are ultimate predators for humans... being so handsome I mean Sanguinius was often called ethereal and other worldly with his beauty. So of course his sons are handsome and all so well bred for the arts... easy to lure in many humans to just listen to their prose or see their paintings.

Just don't show up during your period because suddenly a lot of the poetry is about blood or blood adjacent... they can't seem to find the right red paint... and why do so many of them look at you like they are dying of thirst?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Do I have something for Blood Angels- BOY DO I! Enjoy! I didn't exactly do your idea but I've had this plot in my head for weeks and wanted to use it and you're ask was the only one that let me /sob Not my best work by far, but I hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angel/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral, Period blood kink/menstrual kink that type of stuff, Is this too weird? maybe I dunno you guys all seem like freaks so hopefully this will go over well? If not I can just return to my dungeon

"Why are we going this way?"

This is a long way around, though some of the Red Tear's maintenance areas. He doesn't answer you however, and with disgruntlement you let the question lie as you return to more civilized parts of the Red Tear.

This whole interaction has been odd, since he had picked you up to escort you back from your duties. Normally he doesn’t act like this; He's stoic and lacks a good bit of emotion yes, but you almost feel as if now he’s taking you to your execution.

"I thought you were missing,"

You had jokingly said, walking closer to him. This planet had been pleasant enough after the Blood Angels brought it under the Imperium, but you're quite eager to return to Terra. Or at least the Red Tear.

He ignored your little comment and stepped closer, but you noticed his face change when he got close enough to touch you. His body became more rigid, and you furrowed your brow as you looked up at him.

"Are you ok?" You say as he clears his throat and nods stiffly. "Yes. We should return to the Red Tear. Our work here is done."

You look up at him again try and get any sort of hint as to how he's feeling, but he only has that same, stiff expression; Though slightly more irritated than usual.

You round yet another corner to see a group of freshly armored Blood Angels leaving one of the armoring rooms. They all perk up at the sight of you, staring at you like something fierce. You get more than a bit uncomfortable under their gaze, until your supposed guardian grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you down the hall past them. He glares at them to keep their distance, and you grab at his gauntlet to try and relieve some of the pressure. You're arm is in pain from how tight he's pulling you along, until you stop in front of a room he opens.

It's not your own, so you presume it's his. He shoves you inside.

"Stay here."

As a diplomat you technically reside outside the command structure of the Blood Angels, but no one in their right mind would disobey an astartes. Especially one that is looking at you with such fire in his eyes. He turns to leave, but your sudden question makes him turn towards you again.

"What is all this? Why are you-" He grabs you tight at the shoulder, and you gasp in pain as the force of it pins you to the wall.

"Why do you smell like blood?"

You pull at his hand and grimace in pain, and at his oddly specific question.

"What? It's just normal, It's that time of the-" He lightly shakes your shoulder and despite speaking relatively quiet, his voice still hits you in the chest with out seething it sounds.

"Every one of my brothers on this ship can smell you. You're lucky I got to you before one of them did."

Even if they did, why does he speak of it like something would happen? Like he avoided it for a reason? He's talking as if you would be in danger if they found you, for something seemingly so simple.

“What would happen if they did?”

You quietly question, watching the expression on his face instantly change. He looks conflicted, like he’s nearly lost in thought. For awhile you think you may not even get an answer from him, until you finally see his lips shift.

“I, assume you’ve heard mutterings of a curse in your time here.”

You have vaguely- even he had cursed it once. At the time you'd assumed it some sort of unfamiliar swear or perhaps just an odd phase adopted by Blood Angels, and so you'd paid it little mind other than the initial confusion. When you hesitantly nod, he continues.

“The curse is real. It has changed our legion. And,” You figure he’s about to speak a secret he shouldn’t to someone like you, so you stay quiet.

“It makes the smell of blood, tempting.” He continues. “It sates a hunger only we Blood Angels possess, and keeps us from going raving mad.”

He quiets, and you feels his gauntlets shift on your shoulders. He changes the subject to something adjacent; You assume he probably feels guilt for confessing a chapter secret to you.

“You’re not hurt?” He says confusedly. You aren’t particularly surprised he knows little about such things, though explaining it to him in this state would take far too long and be far too unfruitful.

“No. I'm fine.” He hums. You think you hear him mumble about hearing such a thing from somewhere, a woman's illness, and the comment would make you laugh if he wasn't looming down on you so intensely.

“Very well.” He shifts his jaw a bit, the scars along it shifting. He seems to have run out of things to say, though it also seems like he can't pull himself away from you. His throat and jaw are tightly wound, like he's holding something back.

“You want some… Don’t you?”

He seems surprised oddly enough; Perhaps by your bluntness and stupidity. Many legions would not take kindly to you assuming things about them, but Blood Angels are remarkably kinder. He is remarkably kinder.

“I," He grimaces. "I would owe you a great deal. Our superiors look at those with the Red Thirst as little more than a danger.”

The Blood Angels have been nothing but kind to you, in their own way. To even just be on the Red Tear is a safety and security you couldn’t repay.

It helps that it's him; You haven't ventured far around the Blood Angels ship alone, and you shamefully feel yourself beginning to get attached. If this curse can be sated by something so seemingly menial to you, then you have no reason to refuse.

“Ok.”

You move to take off your pants hands shaking just barely in nervousness, as he drops to his knee with one heavy thud. The sound startles you, just as your pants fall to the floor.

Once they’re off, and just your underwear remains, you hesitate for a moment. His stare is so intense, and you don't know how to describe it other than hungry. Given what he's told you, it makes perfect sense.

After what feels like and eternity of you being frozen, you finally manage to regain enough control to peel your underwear away. He viscerally reacts to the presumably iron filled scent, and the sight of blood against your now bare skin.

You see the way the knot in his throat bobs just above the black skinsuit beneath his armor.

With a speed that has you almost letting out a scream he grips your hips pulls them forward enough that the angle feels precarious, but he has a solid enough grip that leaves no chance of you falling. He throws your right leg over his shoulder next to open your thighs, your foot pressing against the front of his jetpack.

He hesitates for a moment, and you look away from the sheer intensity of his expression before you feel his hot breath on your skin.

You feel the moment he finally takes a taste and you can barely hold in a whimper, it coming out a tiny squeak as you feel the way his hands shift and tighten against your hips. Any hesitation he had is gone near instantly, as he presses his mouth against your cunt.

His armored hands grip at your hips with a strength that makes you ache and fear bruises, easily keeping your legs spread with minimal effort as his tongue laps at your folds. You can see the blood smear across his face, though he pays no mind. He acts as if this is the first meal he's had in ages, or the last he'll ever have.

But while perhaps your pleasure might not be at the forefront of his mind in his quite literal bloodlust, the way his tongue slips between your folds and teases you still makes shivers go up your spine. Your hands grip his hair and attempt to steady yourself, as his strength pushes you around. It's impossible to stop the way your hips push forward trying to get closer to him, gasping as he briefly brushes around your clit.

Suddenly however he pulls himself away, mouth stained much the same as your cunt and upper thighs are. You can see his eyes are glassy his throat bobs.

"I should stop."

He mumbles something to himself about loosing himself further to the Thirst, as if he's treading a line between sating his hunger or falling victim to it. You, perhaps stupidly, encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"No, no just, just a bit more,"

You breathlessly whisper and attempt to pull him closer. He silently resists for a moment, before the knot in his throat bobs and he returns his mouth to between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan you let out into the barren room, damning the consequences of anyone hearing you.

You're so close to that peak you only need a bit more, and the way his teeth scrape against your skin and nose presses against your clit gets you there. Your hands tighter in his hair and you inhale, trying not to cry out. But even after you start to come down he continues, his mouth overstimulating so many little nerves you feel on the edge of tears. Your face is hot as your fingers grip at his armor, desperately whining for him to simultaneously stop, and never stop.

He pulls away again, and gently emoves your leg from his shoulder to let you stand and wobbly attempt to yourself. Your knees feel weak and so many of your muscles are sore, even though he was exceedingly gentle with you.

Realizing his face is a mess, he uses the fabric of his cape to wipe it; How fortuitous the fabric is red.

"You should still keep clear of my brothers until this, passes. You never know how close one of them is to loosing themselves and hurting you." You'll heed the warning. If they're anything more than what gusto he already displayed, you wouldn't be surprised angels more lost to the thirst would be dangerous to you. He displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, you could tell.

Though, a curious part of your mind wonders what he'd be like if he hadn't.

"Do you at least feel better? I don't know how the Thirst works but," He nods.

"Yes. It is nice to not have my head so clouded. I... Thank you."

You smile, before accidentally letting more words tumble out of your lips that you should've allowed. It seems his presence always seems to makes you accidentally forget how to not act a fool.

"Always happy to help." He takes your phase at face value, though you suppose you wouldn't refuse him if he asked again. It wasn't as if this ended badly for you.

"You are kind, offering yourself to a Blood Angel. Not many would."

Beyond their sophisticated veneer they are still dangerous predators more than capable of killing you with the slightest motion, you understand why any few who learn about their supposed defect would fear them.

Maybe something is clouding your judgement, but you don't fear him; At least not yet.

Adjusting your clothing you watch as he rises to his full height, his cape flowing behind him. You grip your own fingers nervously and look around.

"But, would you mind bringing my back to my own quarters? I'll admit I have no idea where on the ship you brought me, and I'm still a bit woozy." He offers a gentle but stoic smile.

"Of course."

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

Here it is! We learn El's parent in this one, and there's a wonderfully healthy dose of Steddie throughout the whole part.

There's a meme on this one, too lol

If you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

-----

It should not have taken five days to drive from Athens, Tennessee, to Camp Half-Blood in Long Island. Eddie wouldn't be surprised if Chrissy and his bandmates thought he'd died some horrible death while on this retrieval. But Eddie would love to meet the person who can tell Steve and a gaggle of demigod children to hurry up and get to camp already. They spent two days at Hearth and Home just for the pool, and various stops along the way followed that same pattern.

It was, in all honesty, the most relaxed retrieval mission Eddie has ever fucking experienced. Only one monster ever gave them trouble (another harpy--go figure--that Steve dispatched with ease and no injury) while the rest would sniff around and eventually have their eyes glaze over like they'd lost interest or encountered something familiar. They'd then move on, leaving the group to continue their meal in relative peace.

But for as relaxed as Eddie and the kids are, Steve is ramped to the absolute limit. His shoulders remain tense, his leg bounces whenever he sits still too long, his eyes constantly survey their surroundings, and he seems to have placed a distance between himself and Eddie. It hurts to see, especially considering the literal spark between them, but Eddie tells himself it's just until they get to camp and Steve sees for himself that they're safe.

And that moment is getting closer as they hike up Half-Blood Hill, Steve's car left at the foot until Eddie can convince Chiron and Mr. D to let him park it in the camp itself. "That big tree there is where the protective barrier starts," Eddie explains, pointing at Thalia's tree. "It used to be a girl, but there was a whole thing with the Golden Fleece, and long story short, she's running around with Artemis now."

"Can I run around with Artemis?" Max asks, her voice eager as she falls back to keep pace with Steve and Eddie.

Steve snorts, and Eddie notices the way his hand tightens on his bat. His knuckles turn white and the muscles in his forearm straining slightly and Eddie has to look away before his mouth gets too dry. "Maybe when you're older," Steve says, "After you can beat me in a spar."

Max groans, stomping her way back to Lucas with hunched shoulders and a quiet mutter that she won't be winning anytime soon.

They reach the top of the hill then, and Eddie watches as the group slows down. El in particular falls back until she's next to Steve and can grip his hand tightly. Her beanie seems to be squirming, but the movement is so subtle that Eddie thinks he's probably seeing the air ripples from the heat. He hurries to the front of the group and grins at them. "Okay! You ready to enter Camp Half-Blood, AKA the best place ever?" he asks.

"Just get on with it already," Mike says, crossing his arms as Erica nods in agreement.

Eddie, in an incredibly mature move, sticks out his tongue, and he's rewarded with a quiet laugh from Steve. "As I was saying, once you pass by the tree, I'll introduce you to Chiron, the activities director here. After that, we'll get cabin arrangements, measure you for armor and swords, and give a full tour. Of course, I'll be the one showing you around, which means you'll be getting the best possible version of the tour."

He waits for applause, but it never comes, and Eddie pouts at them. "Can't you be more excited? This is, like, the first time I've managed to bring back kids who aren't terrified."

"Oh boy," Dustin says, his voice high and fake, "I can't wait for Eddie to show us around Camp Half-Blood."

"Joke all you like, Henderson, I'm taking it as a compliment," Eddie says, darting forward and pushing down the bill of Dustin's cap. He moves back easily and claps his hands. "Okay! Step on through, please."

The kids all glance back at Steve, and he smiles encouragingly. As a group, they move past the perimeter of the tree until only Steve and El are left standing on the edge. Eddie flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's gonna be great. El and the kids can meet more demigods their age, and you, Stevie, can relax since you won't have any monsters coming after you."

Steve nods and looks at El. "You ready?" he asks. She holds his hand even tighter--and Eddie is starting to worry about Steve's bones here--but nods.

Together, they step over the threshold.

Or, well, Steve does. El is stuck on the other side, Steve's hand still in hers but unable to pull her through. Her shoulders drop, and despite Steve's best efforts, she can't get an inch over the barrier that ripples between them. Resigned, she looks down at their hands, her grip starting to loosen some.

Eddie stares at this scene with wide eyes, and a few things suddenly make sense. No wonder Steve wouldn't say who El's godly parent is. She technically doesn't have one. The odd protectiveness makes a lot of sense now, too. And so does the way monsters would apparently move on like the gaggle of demigods was uninteresting.

"Well," Steve says, breaking Eddie out of his epiphany, "we gave it a shot."

With that, he steps back through the barrier, the rest of the kids quickly follow suit, and Eddie can feel them slipping through his fingers. "Wait!" he shouts, relieved when Steve looks up at him.

He's about to give El permission, to say everything is gonna be fine, to beg on his fucking knees if that will keep Steve--and the kids, of course--from walking away.

This is, of course, when the fucking armored and armed barrier patrol (a tradition that never really faded despite the camp's renewed safety) decides to show up.

Eddie just can't get a fucking break, huh?

-------

The moment arrows, swords, and spears (among other weapons) are aimed at them, Steve shoves the kids behind him. El sticks the closest, practically hugging his back, but he knows she'll pull away if it comes down to a fight. Steve twirls his bat, his eyes narrowed as he takes stock of his potential opponents.

The barrier shimmers between the two groups, a slight haze in his vision, and Eddie stands in the middle, one foot on each side of the barrier, looking a little frazzled. That's when a girl comes forward, her blonde hair pulled in a ponytail, a bow in hand, and her quiver slung over her shoulder. She smiles at Eddie, bright like the sun, and Steve feels a familiar-but-not kind of buzzing under his skin.

"Eddie! You're okay!" she shouts, dashing forward and hugging him tightly.

Steve's throat feels tight as Eddie hugs her back, his grip on the bat straining until he hears the reinforced wood groan and forces himself to loosen up. "Eddie," he says, a huge part of him relieved when Eddie immediately looks at him.

The girl looks between the two of them, and her eyes widen, and she smiles excitedly, and Steve suddenly feels a little better.

"Hello, I'm Chrissy," she says, walking over to stand across the barrier from Steve. "We got an alert that a monster was trying to cross, so we came to offer help. Everything looks fine, though, so come on through."

Steve feels El tug on the back of his shirt as the kids shift nervously. "We're good, actually," Lucas blurts out, unable to handle the silence.

Chrissy blinks, her smile still present but her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "You're...good?" she asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, licking his lips nervously, "I'm sure Camp Half-Blood is fun and all, but we can't stay."

"Why not? You'll be safer here."

Steve doesn't know how to answer that question, and El spares him the effort of trying to by saying, "I can't get through." He wants to spin around and grab her shoulders and ask what she's thinking, but it's El's choice to tell people, no matter how much Steve might disagree with her.

"Oh," Chrissy says, her smile dimming some before she brightens again. "Are you mortal? That's okay, we can just give you permission."

It's the perfect excuse, and Steve is ready to fucking run with it, but El shakes her head. "I'm not mortal," she says.

A heavy silence falls over the group on the other side of the barrier as the demigods understand what she means. "What kind of monster are you?" a boy asks, his hand twitching as though ready to reach for an arrow.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Steve says, a bad feeling forming in his gut. His nerves start buzzing on instinct, crackling and pulling at the clouds just a tiny bit. "We'll leave you alone and go our separate ways. You'll....you'll never see us again." And Steve can't help his voice softening, glancing at Eddie as he says that last part.

Because he wants to see Eddie again. He wants to learn about the literal spark they shared. He wants to know if Eddie's lips are soft or rough. But Steve always puts the kids first. Their safety comes before everything else, even himself.

"Wait! There's no need to go," Eddie says, holding his hands out to both sides but looking at Steve. "El isn't dangerous. We can still give her permission."

"Like Hades we are!" the same boy shouts.

"Jason!" Chrissy says, her tone hard as she whirls around.

Jason looks insulted and confused. "What are you yelling at me for? I'm not the one trying to bring a fucking monster into camp."

"She's not a monster! Stop saying that," Mike shouts, trying to push forward only for Steve to push him right back.

"Oh? Then what is she?" Jason asks.

"Her name is El," Steve says, his voice hard and unforgiving, "and she is my sister."

Several of the campers' eyes widen, and suddenly their bows are loaded and ready to shoot. "You brought two monsters to camp!" a girl shouts, glaring at Eddie.

Steve frowns, trying to control the building anger and wariness. Based on the slowly gathering clouds overhead, it's not working.

"Those things are dangerous," Jason says, his eyes narrowed. "I bet the rest are monsters in disguise, too."

"No!" Eddie shouts, "they got through the barrier."

"Oh? Prove it. Walk through right now."

The kids don't move an inch and neither does Steve. Chrissy turns back to them, an uncomfortable grimace tugging at her lips. "It would really help to diffuse things if you could just step over," she says softly.

"Not without El," Max says, glaring at the group.

"Or Steve," Lucas adds.

Despite everything, Steve can't help a wry smile and a joking, "Gee, thanks for thinking of me," thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Jason sneers, "None of the monsters want to cross."

He pulls his bowstring back a little farther, and the clouds above them start to gather faster, tiny sparks jumping under Steve's hand on the bat. He grits his teeth, trying desperately to not get lost in anger, and takes a deep breath. "Listen, this obviously isn't going to work," he says, looking at Eddie. He smiles apologetically. "Thank you for trying, though. It was...a nice thought."

And then several things happen all at once.

Eddie's eyes widen, desperation seeps into them, and he shouts, "I give El permission to cross the barrier!"

El starts to move around Steve like she wants to talk to Chrissy herself, her beanie squirming obviously.

The rest of the kids behind Steve get caught up in El's movements and try to follow, pushing Steve forward a step and bumping El slightly to the side.

His annoyance flares, and dark clouds stretch above them with a quiet, nearly inaudible rumble of thunder.

Finally, an arrow is loosed from the group of demigods, and its path would have been true if not for the kids pushing Steve. Instead, it shoots El's beanie clear off her head and lands in the grass behind the kids, just barely missing Dustin and Will in the process.

Really, Steve can't be blamed for what happened next. Between El's snakes freaking out and the kids shouting and the arrow in the grass overpowering his vision, he really can't be blamed.

It's only understandable that he loses it, that his tenuous control fucking snaps.

A bellowing crack of thunder above them is the only warning the demigods get before a bolt of lightning strikes the ground right next to them. The sheer force of it creates a whole nearly two feet deep, knocking the demigods back a few feet as more bolts follow in its wake. Each one burns the ground where it strikes, and tiny fires feed on the grass.

Little arches of lightning jump across Steve's arms, his hair fluffing out slightly from the static. His chest is heaving from anger and electricity and the aftermath of so much tension finally breaking free as bolts corral the demigods into a tiny circle, striking all around them to prevent escape.

"Steve," El says, the sound of her grabbing his attention more than her words. But when Steve looks at her and sees the snakes on her head rubbing against each other and tasting the air and trying to stay as close to her scalp as possible, his anger flares again at the reminder of the arrow that could have killed his kids. Not only the arrow, but El's snakes could have hurt them, too. If not for the kids immediately squeezing their eyes shut, a few might be statues right now. Sure, it would wear off in a bit, and Steve is immune anyway since he's related to El, but it's fucking inconvenient and dangerous given the situation.

"Stay back," he growls, his words crackling with the lightning as he turns back to the demigods. They look scared shitless, and Steve hasn't even done anything yet. The only ones who haven't been corralled are Chrissy and Eddie, since neither of them actually did anything.

He steps forward, an arch of lightning stretching between his heel and the ground when he lifts his foot. The nails on his bat spark and glow red, looking nearly as angry as Steve feels. Steve crosses the barrier, feels it wash over him, and stops just on the other side. He smiles at the demigods, feral and unrestrained as a storm, and raises his hand to the sky.

Or he starts to only for his view to be blocked by brown hair in desperate need of a good shampoo and big brown eyes. Steve blinks, a tiny portion of his anger calming if only because he's looking at Eddie. "Move, Eds," he says.

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his voice nearly drowned out by the rumbling thunder. So Steve pulls it back, forces it to quiet down so he can hear. "C’mon, sweetheart, there's no need to smite them. They've already peed themselves."

"They almost killed my kids," Steve says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What would you do if you were me?"

"Well, I wouldn't look nearly as hot, for one," Eddie jokes, flashing a shaky smile.

"You're already plenty hot," Steve blurts, the shock of the words calming him down a tiny bit more. And, when he hears Lucas and Erica behind him complain as El thanks Will for retrieving her beanie, his anger finally soothes enough for lightning to stop striking the ground. The clouds are still hanging over them, though, and sparks still arch across his arms and through his hair.

Eddie's smile becomes a bit wider. "Seriously, sweetheart, there's no need," he promises. "I already gave El permission to enter. She can cross the barrier. Word will spread in camp that nobody can mess with her without getting their shit rocked by a very powerful son of Zeus. Don't you want to relax? Don't you want the kids to meet others like them? Don't you...don't you want to, you know, spend time together?"

Steve does want all of that. Especially that last one, because he's never been talked down from an unbridled, anger-fueled, lighting strike marathon this easily. Usually, the kids have to let him work through the anger and vent it all before he's back to normal.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus on calming down. When Eddie hesitantly takes his hand, Steve calms down even faster, and the sparks that pass between their palms are harmless. "That's it, Stevie," Eddie whispers as Steve's shoulders relax. "Besides, you can always beat Jason's ass at capture the flag later."

Steve can't help laughing at that, and he opens his eyes to see Eddie's smile. "Looking forward to it," he says, squeezing Eddie's hand. Then he looks over his shoulder at the kids. "Is everyone okay?" he asks.

The kids are all gathered around El, who has secured her beanie over her head. Unfortunately, the arrow made a larger hole than expected, and two of her snakes are poking their heads out, tongues flicking as they taste the air. They aren't strong enough on their own to actually turn anyone to stone, so none of the kids avoid looking at them.

"We are fine," El says with a tiny smile as she steps forward. Steve is about to tell her to be careful when she walks through the barrier without a problem.

The other kids follow, sticking close to El and then orbiting toward Steve and Eddie. "That was awesome!" Dustin shouts, his eyes bright as he looks at the scorch marks that create a circle around the demigods that haven't moved an inch.

"Yes, it was awesome," a voice says, old and wise and belonging to a centaur that has trotted over from the camp gates and comes to a stop before them. "Though, probably not in the way you mean, young one."

"Chiron, hey, how's it going?" Eddie asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifts to stand in front of Steve. "This, uh, was all a misunderstanding, really."

Chiron raises an eyebrow at Eddie, but Steve can see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I see. Is that so, Chrissy?" he asks.

"Yeah, it is," Chrissy says, nodding once as she glances at Jason, "because Jason was trigger-happy and wouldn't let anyone talk."

"I see," Chiron says again, looking back at Steve and the kids behind him. "Well, I look forward to hearing all about it and getting to know our potential campers at the Big House. Over some snacks, perhaps?"

He seems nice enough, and something about Chiron just makes Steve feel confident that nothing will happen to the kids. At least, not for the next hour or so, and that's good enough. Still, he can't help pushing just to see the extent of Chiron's patience. "Even if my sister's mother is a gorgon?" he asks, watching Chiron closely.

"Am I correct in assuming her mother is Medusa?" Chiron asks.

"Yes," El says, answering for Steve as the two snakes poking through rub their heads on Steve's arm. "She's very nice."

Chiron seems to be holding back an amused smile at that, and he nods. "I'm sure," he says, nodding once. "Yes, you are still welcome, my dear. After all, our very own Eddie Munson has vouched for you."

Steve can feel the kids behind him relaxing, and he glances at Eddie to see the relieved smile on his face. "Okay then," he says, looking back at Chiron, "lead the way."

----

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler

And now, the quality meme you've all been waiting for

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairing: daryl dixon x plus size wife!reader

― era: season 11

― summary: you're a big fan of the commonwealth's military uniform on your husband but he isn't so sure.

― warnings: unprotected sex, intimate sex, daryl's insecure about how he looks but it's okay, oral sex (r. receiving), missionary, teasing, and praising kink.

― wc: 1293

⋆ a/n: well, hello everyone, and happy pride month!! i'm back (not officially), and of course i'm posting daryl because am i really me if i didn't? also, i do admit i babygirlified daryl in this fic, like- i couldn't help myself, but anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!

masterlist | AO3

“I don’t understand why you do that.” You said from your shared bed.

“Do what?” Daryl asked you as he stood in front of the full-length mirror. He was essentially checking him out, but with a lot more apprehension for himself than the usual.

“Nit-pick every part about you until there’s nothing left.”

“’Cause I look stupid.” You knew he meant to play it off as a scoff, maybe even a dig at the bulky plastic uniform, but you know that he could be placed in a potato sack and still be convinced that he’s the reason why the sack doesn’t look good.

With a sigh, you got up from the bed, coming to stand behind him.

“Well,” You breathed out as you set your hands on his shoulders. “You want to know what I think?” You asked him softly. He just grunted, giving you a half-hearted shrug, only one of his shoulders moving up as he cast his gaze to the floor. You took that grunt as a means to continue, your hands sliding down to his biceps and giving and them a firm squeeze - the firmest squeeze that you could seeing as though the armor got in your way.

“I think that you look sexy.” Your touch then traveled down to his forearms, resting there for a moment before reaching around his waist, resting your hands on his chest plate. “And strong.” You continued. Your arms snaked back behind him, placing themselves on his pert ass, which was is outlined by the posterior coverup. “But also, it makes your ass look good.” You finished with a smile when you heard his chuckle.

You gripped his hips and softly turned him around, cupping the scruff of his cheeks. His eyes closed at the gentle show of affection.

“You look handsome all the time, okay? So, I don’t want you worrying about some stupid uniform; and besides, I should be worried about other women coming after you once they see you in this.” He let out a sound that was a mix between a scoff and a snort, “Ya ain’t gotta worry about that.” He reassured you. “I know.” You said with a smile.

Your eyes fell on his lips before you leaned up to capture them softly.

He reciprocated your affections, his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you as close to his body as he could despite the uniform that prevented him from feeling your ample, plush form against his.

“Need’ta get this stupid shit off me.” He grumbled against your mouth. You giggled, a smile spreading on your face as you both frantically worked, and managed, to get his top and pants off; now, all he was left in was his black long-sleeved shirt and his underwear.

“Well, don’t you look cute.” You teased. “Ain’t cute.” He growled, pulling you towards him so he could feel you now. “Sure, you aren’t.” You joked sarcastically before intertwining your fingers into his hair and pressing your lips together. He grunted into your mouth at the added pressure to his scalp, but he didn’t complain, slowly walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed.

He gently set you down, motioning you to move up on the bed so that your head was now propped up on the pillows.

He settled himself between your thighs, working your underwear down your legs.

“Tonight is supposed to be about you, Dar.” You sighed as you felt his breathing against your damp labia. “I know, but this is what I wanna do.” He said, throwing your thick legs over his as equally thick shoulders. “Then I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.” You gasped out as he ran his tongue through your folds, the muscle caressing your clit.

He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue dipping in and out of your hole before trailing back up to suck your clit into his mouth, lightly nibbling on it. Your legs twitched around his head, your back arching and your nails scratching at his scalp. He groaned loudly, the vibration of his timbre voice sending an almost electric like current to shoot up your spine; your breathing turning labored as he did. His fervent licks coaxed you closer to your orgasm, your thighs pressing against his ears like warmed earmuffs.

You tasted divine and he just couldn’t stop. With the stress of being recruited and trained, plus having to deal with assholes - mostly Sebastian - he needed this, needed to be able to get lost for just a few moments, and he was grateful that you were his vice, a sea to get lost in.

“Daryl! ‘m gonna- ‘m gonna cum, please.” You cried out. Though your voice was muffled, he could feel it in the way you squeezed around him. As you neared your high, he focused solely on your clit, leisurely flicking and sucking until you shook, your whine that almost sounded like a squeal broke the air.

He pulled away from you once your legs grew weak, your limbs falling open so he could wiggle his way up your chest to deliver you a burning kiss. You could taste yourself on him as you desperately tried to keep up with the rigorous pace that his mouth moved in.

“You fine to keep goin’?” He mumbled. You nodded, laying your head back in bliss so he could deliver heated nibbles and bites to the column of your throat. “Yeah.” You swallowed.

He looked into your eyes one more time before taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together, the other reached down to align himself to your entrance before allowing himself to push into you.

You drew your bottom lip into your mouth, shutting your eyes and squeezing Daryl’s hand as you got used to him. It wasn’t long before he picked up his pace, his thrusts slow and deep. You could feel him, feel all of him as he took large inhales of air, selfishly breathing you in as he groaned.

“Ya feel so good.” He grunted as he pulled out just to slam his hips back into you. Your head swam at the praise, a meek whimper pushing past your lips. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks in their wake. Daryl always enjoyed the extra added pain, his body stuttering at the scratches.

“Need’ta feel ya squeeze me.” He heaved. He pressed his body further onto yours, as if he was trying to mold you two together. You fed into his demand, contracting around him that sent his body jolting upward. “God damn girl.” He cursed.

“Faster, D. I need it.” You whined, arching your back to the best of your abilities. “I got you.” He assured you, picking up his pace, the pleasure that shot up your spine scrambling your brain.

His cock constantly brushed up against that spongy spot hidden deep within you.

With the way his hips were stuttering, you could tell he was close.

“Cum in me.” You gasped. Normally, Daryl would choose to take the cautious route, but tonight, your loving words and reassurance had gotten him so pent up that he couldn’t help but agree, marking you as his as he let go inside of you with a deep, earth-shattering combination between a moan and a groan.

You worked him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, running your fingers through his hair, holding him close to you as he shook in your arms.

“You okay?” You asked with a shit-eating grin. He huffed a chuckle. “Yeah, ‘m alright.” He said from the crook of your neck. “Fuckin’ exhausted though.” He grunted as he rolled off of you.

“Oh, how I love my old man.” You teased, cuddling up to his side.

“Shuddup.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

[gilbirda]

Desired

I was talking again about my Eldritch Ghost King Danny AU and was encouraged (I didn't need a lot of encouragement to be honest) to post some never-released to the public chunks of the main fic. One day I'll finish writing it and post it neat and structured on AO3, but today is not the day.

Context for this fic: Masterpost

--- Wordcount: 2712-----

Storming the Observants headquarters was easy. The majority of them were scholars of some kind, archivist, recording history and the future, studying it.

The real threat was behind the huge doors Clockwork guided him to. He threw them open, relishing the screams and gasps once the meeting inside came to a halt at his interruption.

“You are not scheduled to come here until a few more days,” a ghost eyeball with some kind of suit on approached them, a clipboard in their hands. They looked nervous, and their eye went back to the head of the Observants glaring at the halfa at the door.

“Then make time,” Danny pushed through. The poor ghost jumped and froze, clearly not used to people coming guns blazing into a meeting. “Heeeyyy,” the teenager floated down the stairs, ignoring the ghosts sitting around the circle of chairs in the middle. “Did you miss me?”

“Daniel Phantom.” The leader of the Observants, who he came to learn was called Larry (well, more like La’arriem, but he decided to call him Larry), stood from his chair furthest from the door. “You are not welcomed here.”

“Oh, yeah?” His smile was feral, and his eyes shone with a mad glint. “I thought I was, you know, since I’m apparently the Ghost King.”

He slammed his hands on the long circular table, ignoring the gasps of the ghosts around him.

“Cease this behaviour.” Larry narrowed his eye.

“So you don’t deny it?” Danny looked up towards the ghosts adjourned, recognizing some familiar faces, not all of them friendly. “And what’s with the meeting? Making rules behind my royal back?”

Larry made a gesture and stopped the guard who was approaching them. “No, this is not of matters that concern you, since you aren’t yet the King.”

“Aren’t I?” He tried not to show confusion.

Larry caught on his hesitation. “Until the coronation you are not, officially, the King.”

“Then let’s get on with it!” All this suspense was killing him. If he was going to throw his life out the window anyway, he may as well do it now.

But the Observants were shaking their heads (eyes?) at him. Larry sounded mocking when he answered. “You are not ready. The king must be prepared before the ceremony. That’s what we summoned you for.”

Danny felt a shiver down his spine. This sounded more and more like a cult. What would they force him to do? Meditate under a waterfall? Fast? No thank you.

“Skip it.”

Larry looked around the hall before sighing, accepting that there was no way they could solve this quietly.

“No.”

Danny punched the table and the papers and artifacts strewn over it flew away. “If this is some kind of power play…”

“It is not, I assure you.” Larry floated up one artifact that fell from the table. It was some kind of rock with a weird aura, now that Danny noticed. It called him, feeling familiar. “We were actually discussing the plan for your… training.”

When Larry and the Observants looked at the audience Danny looked as well, catching Dora and Frostbite sitting together, waving enthusiastically at him. A ghost in greek armor nodded at him, but Danny didn’t recognize him — must have been someone from New Greece, Pandora’s realm. He also saw Desiree talking with a group of female ghosts he didn’t recognize at the back of the hall, and if she saw him she didn’t make it known.

“Do you recognize this?” Another Observant’s voice made him look back at the center of the hall, and at the ghosts in front of him. Danny didn’t know this ghost, but he knew they followed Larry everywhere. 

Danny looked at their hands. The artifact. “No.”

Some Observants shared a look, and Larry snickered. “You should.”

“Why?”

“It’s the Ghost Zone’s Core. Or at least part of it.”

Phantom looked down again. It was just a rock. It glowed, but that’s it — it was like everything else in the Ghost Zone. “It’s a rock.”

Some murmurs filled the hall. The lapdog Observant looked up at Larry for support.

“It’s part of the Zone itself. This artifact was handed to us by the revered Ancients a long time ago, to watch over the Realms’ desires in their stead as they looked for a new King.”

Danny blinked. He tried to imagine it as something fantastical and amazing. “It’s just a rock.”

Larry started trembling in rage, hitting the floor with a staff that had been resting against the table. “Silence!” He screamed at the audience before turning back towards the halfa. “Child, your disrespect shouldn’t be left unpunished, but for learning purposes I will let a demonstration prove you wrong.” Larry made a gesture and the other Observant put the rock in his waiting hand. “Oh revered Core, please, show us your power.”

The rock started shining on command.

“Huh.”

Larry glared at Phantom. “Revered Core, please, do you recognize this ghost?” He asked clearly, approaching Danny with the rock. The shine, which had been soft, morphed into a full glow as if it was some kind of star. Being so close, the Observants, Danny and Clockwork had to cover their eyes with a hand.

“So it does respond to questions, huh.” He leaned down and smiled when the rock’s glow lowered to a soft shimmer, pulsing like a heartbeat. “Yo, are you happy with the eyeballs?”

The glow dimmed. The Core wasn’t happy.

“Interesting,” he took the rock from the other ghost’s hand and floated backwards, away from the eyeball trying to retrieve the chunk of rock. “Was everything that the eyeballs say true?”

The Core started pulsing rapidly, as if it were nodding to his question. Okay, so the Observants didn’t steal the artifact and were appointed by the Ancients after Pariah’s defeat.

Danny floated a bit further, dodging Larry. “Core, do you know why the eyeballs stalled my coronation?”

The rock’s glow dimmed to a barely noticeable shine, unsure of how to answer his question. Right, yes or no questions were better.

“Do you think I can be King?” Danny did a flip, his ghostly tail gracing an Observant’s hand trying to grab him. 

The rock’s shine went overdrive, vibrating in his hands.

“Do you think I will be happy being King?” He landed, not sure why he asked that question. Before the Core could answer like some kind of magic 8 ball, it was ripped from his hands.

“Enough!” Larry fumed, withdrawing the rock to his chest, as far as he could from Danny. “Stop this nonsense.”

“Why? I need to get to know the Core of the place I am meant to rule, right?” He laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“You will not ‘get to know’ anything! Not, at least, until we deem you prepared to—”

“Then why wait? Why not now?” he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could have told me and started ‘preparations’ when I defeated Dark.”

“Because—”

“Or, even better,” he walked up to Larry, ignoring the low glow of the Core in the ghost’s arms. “If you wanted to wait you could wait until I graduated high school, no? Just a few years and I would even be happy to oblige.”

“Because you are an insolent brat!” Larry declared to the silent hall. Someone coughed uncomfortably. “Child, you are the last ghost we would choose for this! Oh, believe me, if it were up to me, you would have been executed like you deserve!”

“But you won’t.”

Larry growled, giving a look at Clockwork, who found the whole situation amusing. “For some reason that escapes us, the Zone has chosen you over the other candidate.”

Danny knew this but had to ask. “Who was the other candidate?”

“You know who he is,” Larry straightened his back, the artifact safely in his hands. “Vlad Plasmius.”

The reaction was immediate. The Core turned pitch black, vibrating with an emotion that one could even call fury. Not fear, not dislike — the Core despised Vlad.

Huh. At least they had that in common, Danny appreciated.

He looked up at Larry. “How can you say he is a better alternative? Vlad only wants more power to conquer the whole Zone!” He turned towards the audience and the other Observants. “If it were up to him, all of you would be stripped of your freedom if he decides you’re in the way of his conquest.”

“But he is more experienced than you. He knows the Realms, more than you. Our customs, our ways,” Larry narrowed his eye, ignoring the angry rock in his hands. “You, on the other hand, are just a child. You would only lead us into chaos!”

“Is your fear of the unknown so deep that you would choose a tyrant over me?”

“Plasmius is not a tyrant. At least he can be reasoned with. Not like a brat like you.”

Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “Excuse me? Do we know different Vlad Plasmius?” He waited for Larry to admit he was just kidding, but it never happened. “Vladdie would decimate you the first thing if he becomes king.”

“Impossible. He appreciates the order we keep in this institution.” Larry puffed his chest.

“And he told you this himself, right,” Larry didn’t nod, but it was implied. “Ok, then you are more stupid than I thought you were.”

He grabbed the rock again when Larry stuttered at the insult. “Tell me, Core,” he stage-whispered at the still black stone. Apparently it didn’t like all the Plasmius talk. “Are the Observants stupid for believing Plasmius?”

The rock changed colors to a soft yellow and vibrated, amused. “Thought so.” He nodded and looked back at the audience. “Please, never trust Plasmius. He will stab you in the back at the first notice. I know many of you don’t know me, but I assure you that he would not be a good alternative as King.”

“It doesn’t matter,” a bored ghost interceded from the crowd. Danny didn’t know who it was. “The Core has chosen you no matter if we like it or not.”

On cue, the rock changed colors to green, pulsing and vibrating with desire in Danny’s hands. The halfa almost could hear a whisper in the back of his mind, pure desire, a visceral want of him, his body and his mind. The Core wanted him. Pretty words, but faced with what he could sense from the piece of rock in his hands, he wanted to throw it away and never look back.

He had never been desired or felt desire at this level. It rubbed him the wrong way. It was borderline sexual, how the Core seemed to want him as theirs, as the King — a desire so primal and animalistic that scared him.

Danny licked his lips, turning towards the Observants. “What if I say no?” He knew the answer as well, but he needed to hear it again. He really didn’t want to be King.

Larry looked worried, but relieved. Maybe he sensed that Danny was scared of what he felt from the piece of Core. 

“Destruction. Chaos. The end of the Realms,” he walked towards a book resting on the floor, one of the documents that fell when he hit the table. “It has been recorded by previous kings that they received… visions from the Realms, messages, possibilities of what could have been or could be. One recorded such a vision of what could happen if the Zone is left without a King for too long.” Larry searched for the passage he was referring to and started reading. 

[...] and I saw a black void, hunger, eating everything and everyone away. Such pain and destruction [...]. Unhappiness, the weight of absence of light and a center, a pivot from where the Core would anchor in, only the ultimate unmaking of the Realms was what was left of us.

“Some parts have been lost in the translations, but the message is clear, child. The Realms cannot exist without a king for too long and we are already at the limit.” He closed the book with a thud, the sound too loud in the suddenly quiet room. “This cannot wait until it is convenient for you.” Larry said the word in mockery.

Danny looked down at the chunk of Core, pondering. He knew he didn’t actually have a choice — he couldn’t just leave the Realms to die so he could have a normal life for a few decades and die in a fight.

Centuries.

He would instead reign for millennia, become something else, leave behind his life as he knew it. No big deal. In his mind’s eye he saw his friends and family, Jazz smiling at his show of responsibility. He could almost hear her go on in a spiel about growth and maturity. He chuckled quietly.

There was really no other way, huh? His future that once had been so uncertain now was taking shape in a way he never imagined, set in stone before he even knew what was happening. Decided for him before he knew the implications.

He didn’t want to be king, but he could try. He had the power of friendship and love on his side, right? What could go wrong?

Oh… maybe he shouldn’t have thought that. Jinxing this so early on was a bad idea.

Whatever.

Danny sighed. He knew there was no way in hell he was going to let the Infinite Realms crumble and perish just because he was sixteen and wasn’t sure about his future.

“Okay,” the word was heavy in his mouth, his hands playing with the shiny piece of Core. “Then I accept.”

One blink and you miss it — he found himself in another place, maybe even another time, maybe another realm. He saw a man, tall, muscular, with an imposing figure. The man wore dark and spiky armor, with shoulder guards that resemble animal skulls, a giant white cape clasped over his chest with a black chain waving in an invisible breeze, and in his hand he could clearly see the Ring. He looked up, knowing what he would find.

His own face. Older, more defined, once the baby fat is gone and years have eaten away his innocence. He looks a bit like Dan.

But his eyes. His eyes were different. They weren't red, or angry, or even vicious. His bright green eyes looked gentle and gracious, even with the unnerving absence of pupils or irises. They were all green, toxic green, with flowing green smoke pouring out of the sockets, the wispy ends curling up. The kindness he found in them was familiar.

The not-Dan tilted his head forward and smiled. On his head, among impossibly long flowing locks of snow white hair, the Crown flared with a silent command.

Danny wanted to say something, ask how things would turn out for them, if he was making a mistake, but when he opened his mouth he was back at the Observant’s meeting hall, back to being watched and scrutinized. He blinked the spots in his eyes at the sudden change of lightning, noticing the unusual silence in the room.

Everyone was looking at something behind him.

He turned barely in time to glance at a giant hologram (astral projection?) of the not-Dan crossing his arms around his broad armored chest before it vanished. A deep laugh rang in his own voice, and yet so different from his, reverberating in the big round room. 

Clockwork smirked, as if he had planned for this to happen, and knelt.

“May the King reign forever.” It was just a murmur, but it startled half the room.

Soon, everyone else followed. Detractors, enemies, frenemies, the Observants… Everyone knelt and echoed the claim. His supporters spoke louder, but there was little they could do to add on the fantastic reality he was living.

Danny barely has the conscience to acknowledge what was happening. Because since the… apparition vanished, he felt like he was not the same. His body, a mere flesh suit, the mold of a person he could become. His mind was not just Danny Phantom or Fenton. He has become something else. Someone else.

Or, at least, the ball has started rolling in that direction.

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3) {Spotify Playlist}

Synopsis: Gale guides you through casting a fire bolt, but in your search to find a warmth to channel, you revisit a late night with him that stirs up an unfamiliar feeling within you.

A/N: Completely SFW! Just cute romantic stuff while I continue crackin' away at this fine ass dork I've been presented with. I might turn this into a much longer story, because the dynamic of Mentor!Gale falling for his apprentice has so much potential, from fluff to angst to sexual tension, etc... but for now, here's this :) and with a side of the ever-lovely Tara!

Song rec.: Witchcraft - Vian Izak (X)

Word Count: 2k

“Now, right foot further… further…” A hand comes to rest on your hip, and you feel a tap against your right ankle, guiding your movements. You glance down, distracted from your target, and your mentor lets out a soft chuckle, his free hand moving under your arm. Two fingers push up on your chin, realigning your head. Doing your best to follow his directions, your right foot shifts forward, inching awkwardly across the ground until you no longer feel his shoe against your calf. 

“Should I aim for the head?”

“The head?” He laughs, his fingers pulling away from your chin, his arm outstretching to be parallel with yours, showing you where to position your own. “No, Tempus, let’s keep it simple,” he teases, pointing a finger at the torso of a hay-stuffed target, elderly chainmail armor lazily draped over its shoulders. “Eyes on the torso. And, please, do refrain from igniting my tower in a fiery blaze. These shelves took far too long to fill.” 

“I know, I know, I’ve got it,” you assure, earning a mewl of disbelief from a tabby Tressym resting a few feet away from the target, her tail and front paws hanging off of an empty space on the aforementioned bookshelves. 

“Mr. Dekarios, are you sure this is the safest we can be?” Tara purrs, her right wing twitching, likely anxious that you were bound to do exactly as he asked you not to and burn the whole tower down.

“I trust them, Tara. After all, books can only get one so far. Hands-on practice is far more valuable!” He encourages, leaning down slightly, enough that you can hear his breathing beside your ear. “Now. Steady. Focus… and picture it. A small flame, mostly harmless. Landing square on the torso, created from your very–”

“Ignis!” You shout, and Tara shoots up from where she was laying, bouncing away from the target and landing on a pile of books. Despite her reaction, there was no flame, though you swore you could’ve spotted a spark from your fingertip.

Gale lowers his arm, giving you a little more space, and he removes his hand from your hip, even taking a step back, perhaps a little too aware of the vicinity between your bodies. “Again. The pronunciation was exquisite, I must avow. Reach into your mind, no matter how far you must travel. Hear her whispers, channel the inferno within. Whether it be rage, passion, optimism – you must grasp the element, and feel the heat,” he explains, earning a small nod from you. Your eyes close, and you seek out the embers he spoke of. 

Your mind wanders– it has to, if you truly want to tame the element, no part of your mind should be off limits. Though it travels to unexpected places. You most certainly find warmth, it just wasn’t the warmth you expected. It wasn’t a burn, yet it was a heat. One that hovered around your body, brought on by closeness to another, breathing figure. You could see books, and the moon, hanging high outside, the room coated with a gentle blue glow. It was strange, like you were inspecting a faded picture rather than experiencing a dream. 

Hardening your focus, you grit your teeth. There was a purring, quiet, under the desk. Yes! You sat at the desk, seated on a small velvet stool, stationed next to a figure cloaked in purple. His arm, carefully positioned to allow you to gaze at and read along with the book he studied, brushing lightly against your shoulder. It couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago, during one of your late-night mentoring sessions, when he’d caught you sneaking around in the library, looking for something to keep your sleepless mind occupied. 

Reminding yourself of the mission at hand, you search for inspiration, and find a lone lit candle towards the back of the desk, the glow encapsulating the two of you and casting light on the material you read. With a deep breath, you do your best to channel that candle. As small as it was, it seemed the most helpful component in finding the blaze Gale directed, and you exhaled. 

“Ignis!” 

Your eyes open, feeling a half-second surge of heat in your fingertips, and much to your surprise, a tiny flame shot out from your index finger, though it fell to the floor and sizzled out before it made it halfway to your target. 

Still, it was enough to earn a chuckle and a series of short claps from your mentor, pleased with your performance even with as amateur as it was. “See, Tara? Hardly a threat to the books!” 

The tressym’s wings stretch, and her body follows, leaning back on her haunches as she yawns. With a flick of her tail, she muses “Hardly a threat to anyone, for that matter! I’m quite sure a crocked kobold could muster up a drink stronger than that.” 

“Oh, be patient, Tara. Everyone must start somewhere.” You spot Gale’s shadow waving his hand dismissively, before that shadow approaches yours, and you feel a hand on each of your shoulders. “I presume you found your root. Return, and study it. Learn it. Conform to it. Again.”

You inhale, and once more close your eyes, returning to the moonlit scene. The candle seemed dimmer, now, and you wonder if you’d somehow extracted the power from a memory. You’ve heard – well, read – about plenty of curious happenings related to the power and influence of the weave, but it was quite a different experience to feel those effects. You knew that you had focused quite closely on the candle, and yet it bore disappointing results. And now, that flame burned weaker.

It may be best to turn to other means of fuel. Your eyes scan the memory, contemplating the moon, before deciding it was far too tame, and far too distant to harness. The temperate coziness you felt in the moment pulses through you again, soothing your nerves, easing the racing of your heart. Warmth. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize just where the heat originates from. Though neither of you were aware in that moment, or perhaps you merely glossed over the fact, you sat close; in order to read the contents of the book, you had to be near to him. And near, you were. 

The time aided you, your fatigue stronger than your dignity, and allowed you to rest your head against his shoulder as you hardly managed to keep up with the lines of text, let alone truly process the material you were attempting to soak up. It was warm, despite the winter that hadn’t yet faded. He was warm. You’d been close with him before, though it was always fleeting. Accidentally bumping into him as you gathered materials around his study, or the second-long contact of your hands when you answered his fetch requests. Occasionally, when he guided your hand to some place in particular, over the ridges of a carved staff or the spines of books on his shelves. Even once, just once, that he’d allowed you to press your palm against his chest, his purple robe displaced just enough to expose the stain of the Netherese orb, which had produced an alarming heat from beneath his skin, and he’d felt inclined to share it with you. 

But here, this memory, this occurrence, was hardly fleeting. He must have been willed by weary exhaustion just as well, because he didn’t shy away from the close contact. Instead, Gale rested his jaw against the top of your head, continuing to idly review the book he’d read countless times. You were sure that, if he had fewer things to concern himself with, he very well could have recited the lectures on dead gods from memory. 

You hear a distant ‘mrrow’ of boredom and you recount your steps, regaining sight of your mission once more. You relax your body, only maintaining enough control to keep yourself standing, and your arm aimed. As you burn this sight, this time with him, and these feelings into your memory – should you ever need to recall the sight again, perhaps in future lessons, you want to be prepared – there is an airiness that wraps your body. Although you are planted firmly on a surface, both in the real world and in this vision, it feels as though you’ve been granted feather falling and have leapt from the balcony, becoming one with the breeze. And yet there is no chill, there is no bite from the rush of air, merely a dazing high. 

His breathing is all you hear. Mellow and stable. You focus on the patterned flow, the delicate and inviting tepidity, the velvety brush of his clothes against your face. 

“Love?”

Your eyes open, head swiveling around to face him, and he seems taken aback by your response. You aren’t sure you heard him right, and he isn’t sure you heard him right either, so he points behind you, head tilting slightly. Following his attention, you find that the target now displays a moderately-sized searing hole in the torso, near the right shoulder. You don’t recall announcing the spell, but it’s quite possible that you were too wrapped up in channeling the fire bolt to realize you’d casted it. 

When your attention clings to the training dummy for too long, Gale steps into your peripherals, and you turn to face him once more. Again, he motions towards your successful delivery. “Flames and Fatalities, volume one, chapter four.”

“Red for rage, orange for survival, white for hope, pink for love,” you recite, easily recalling the information provided in one of the spellbooks Gale had you study several times over.

“Precisely. Your flame contained a pink hue,” he elaborates, and your gaze flicks over to the training dummy, and then back at Gale. 

A familiar warmth brushes against your ankle, and you look down, finding a sassy winged creature at your feet. “At least someone in this tower seeks romantic companionship. Mr. Dekarios may very well have something to learn himself,” Tara purrs, and Gale releases a short sigh at her taunt, running a hand through his loose brown hair. “You used to be such a romantic. Though you seem much more of the hopeless kind these days.”

“Well, Tara, I don’t possess an acropolis of free time, I fear. Romantic pursuits do not fit into my schedule,” Gale attempts to defend, though Tara merely tilts her chin up and turns her head away from him, tail stiffening with antipathy. When you look up from the feline-like familiar, you find Gale eyeing you, splitting his sight away the moment your eyes meet, rendering you incapable of registering whatever strange emotion you thought you caught a glimpse of in his eyes. 

You don’t like the taste of the unforeseen tightness in the air, so you clear your throat, looking around the study. “Hells, I forgot to tend to the garden yesterday. Does that sum up my teachings today?” You ask, looking back at Gale. He stares at the mannequin for a few moments more, and for a second, you fear that you’d damaged it too much, but then he releases a gentle laugh, dipping his head.

“Indeed. You performed marvelously. Go on, I’ve got artifacts to busy myself with. If you’re not back by the time I finish, I’ll put together a meal.” Gale motions for the main doors, and steps past you, approaching a mid-sized woven basket containing a staff, an enchanted dagger, and a pair of leather gloves shining a faint orange hue. You watch him, and he pauses as he lifts the basket, glancing at you from over his shoulder, his smile aged, though it held a certain pride in the catenary of his lips. “May I ask?”

Confused, you narrow your eyes. “Ask what?”

“Where did you find your flame?”

Allowing yourself a moment to think, you made sure to keep your eyes on him, and then you provide a nonchalant shrug. “I thought of my parents.” 

Gale is still, his reaction a delayed one, before he widens his smile in a quick chuckle. “Charming. Hold onto that. It’s a solid base.”

You nod, and then finally turn around as Gale resumes moving the basket from the floor to his desk. You grab an empty basket of your own on the way out, disappearing and leaving him to his artifacts. 

[firapolemos05]

Manners

CW: suggestive, creepy whumper, lady whumper, pet whump, water deprivation, muzzles, defiant whumpee, forced to beg

The glass of water on the table had caught her Pet's attention.

Scarlet noticed him stealing glances over the book in her hands, eyes darting between the glass and the floor. Longing. Oh it was simply adorable how he tried to hide it.

'How long should I make him wait?'

She raised the glass and took a nice long sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Her Pet's gaze held longer that time, a glint of desperation sneaking into his eyes. Chapped lips pulled into a thin line under his muzzle, and Scarlet knew he was trying so hard not to waste any remaining moisture in his mouth on them.

It had been days since she last allowed him to drink.

A consequence of disobedience. 

Fluids and nutrients delivered intravenously would prevent any actual dehydration, but that did nothing to treat cottonmouth. The parched barren of his throat must be unbearable by now.

"You must be thirsty, aren't you, Pet?" she inquired. His eyes shot back to the floor, embarrassment marking his face at being caught. Scarlet chuckled. That pride of his made it too easy. "Come now, you remember your tenth rule, right?"

Mentioning the rules always made him flinch. Oh he remembered alright. She had made sure of that. Made him recite each one over and over, interrupting each mistake or refusal with a strike of her switch across his back.

He remembered them very well.

'Rule 10: Pets do not request, they beg.'

While knowing his rules was one thing, following them was another. And her Pet had a particularly difficult time with this one. A defiant little one, he was, but after several weeks of strict training, Scarlet had cracked his armor. 

Some beautiful cracks. 

The fear that flashed in his gaze whenever she entered his cell. The empty, resigned silence whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, or traced the masterpiece of scars over his skin. He was even getting better at remembering to call her 'master.'

Now Scarlet watched another crack form. Watched the show of emotions he failed to suppress: anger, humiliation, anxiety, craving. She took another sip from the glass and watched the unspoken threat fuel those last two. And soon she spots the exact moment of breakage. 

He turned towards her and bowed his head. His voice weak and rasping.

"May I please have some water. . . Master?"

Oh how delightful. 

It usually takes him far longer to beg. He must really be desperate. He didn't even growl this time. 

The satisfaction was like a drug.

"Good boy," she smiled and he bristled at the praise. He despised it now but it'll be a matter of time before he's craving that too. She pointed to the floor in front of her chair. "Come here."

Her Pet hated to crawl, but he knew better than to attempt standing without permission. Oh well. He can be grateful his arms are bound in front of him today.

He avoided eye contact as he approached, a glare glued to the tile flooring. But soon, he was where he looked best, kneeling at her feet.

His hands rose to reach for the glass, a gesture Scarlet swiftly corrected by catching the chain connecting them under her boot and pinning them down.

"Pets do not use their hands," she scolded and he grimaced. She held the glass out, hovering it just above his head. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

His face flushed dark at that, the anger and shame making a reappearance. He had earned his reward, but he still had to accept it however she wished him to. Even if it was a display of power such as this. It was too late for him to refuse, but he almost looked as if he was going to try. Fortunately for him, the desire to quench his thirst won out. He obeyed, his jaws parting as far as the muzzle would allow them.

Scarlet poured slowly, wanting to savor his reactions. She could be a gracious master now and then. She was careful to let the water fall steadily in between the muzzle's wires.

To his credit, her Pet tried to remain stoic, composed. But as soon as liquid passed his lips, the animal need took over. Like an eager dog he gulped it down, leaning closer, squeezed his eyes shut as he craned his neck to catch every last drop. The effort failed him, as his movements made the drops catch on the muzzle, splashing over the metal. Well, that was his own fault. Glossy streaks ran down his chin and neck.

Scarlet licked her lips.

She should do this again, just with her favorite red wine. Painting her Pet's neck with dripping red would be quite enticing. And it would be an order then, rather than a reward. He won't be able to refuse, and won't be able to stop her from pulling him into her lap to lick the wine from his neck.

Oh how he will hate it. And she will feast on his helpless fear.

The last drop of water fell from the glass.

It's barely enough to satiate. Her Pet gasped for air, greedily seeking more where there is none. It will be a short respite, and he closed his mouth to prevent his breaths from stealing that back. Then he noticed the amused expression of approval on his master’s face and turned away, abashed at his behavior.

Scarlet curled a finger through his muzzle, pulling him back to face her. "Now what do you say?"

Another rule he had difficulty with.

Contempt twisted his features, and before he could think better of it, the words already left his mouth. "Go to hell."

Scarlet grinned. She can already taste his regret. 

Time for another lesson. 

[luimagines]

You Show Up While He’s Traveling Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Warrior and Wild.

Content under the cut!

Time

Time was going over what they had to work with and what they would be able to do with it. It would take a while until they would be able to restock and there wasn’t a lot of things in the environment where they could forage their own materials.

He rubs his temples and sighs. This would frankly be a lot easier if he was by himself. Not that he minds the company of the boys too much, but they don’t seem to realize how many resources they seem to sap out of what they have.

“Hey Old Man!” He hears them call, making his head hurt more than he’d ever tell them. “We found someone that says they know you!”

Time frowns and looks away from his logical puzzle. That claim should be impossible. This isn’t his home and he’s far from any acquaintances. Who would say such a thing?

“And who are they?” He calls back, putting the supplies away. He’ll come back to it.

“Someone. How should we know?” Time can hear the way Legend rolls his eyes. “They asked if we’ve seen Link. Bulky. Heavy armor. Scar over his eye with red and blue facial markings. We figured they must be legit if they could name specifics.”

Time stands and makes his way over to check it out. He stalls. Time can feel the way his jaw goes slack and how he nearly trips over his own two feet. Your name tumbles from behind his lips. He can’t believe this.

You seem to sag with relief and throw yourself towards him. “I was so worried. Thank Hylia, you’re alright.”

Time bites his tongue, more focused on catching you and holding you within his arms once more. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to stay home.”

You huff. “I did. And yet here I am. I promise I wasn’t trying.”

You kiss his cheek and pull back, looking him over and smiling at what you see. “I forgot how you looked in your finery.”

Time shakes his head, a smile blooming on his otherwise serious face. “I promise you, it hasn’t changed. You, however, have.”

You blink and step back entirely, looking down your front and your sides, hoping to see what he sees. “What do you mean?”

“You’re even more beautiful then when I left you.”

You smack his shoulder and push him.

“Jerk. You scared me for a moment.”

Time laughs and pulls you back to him. “I’m not sorry. I see you’ve already met the Veteran.”

“He’s fun.”

“I told you do.”  He smirks and turns to the rest of the group. They’ve all stopped what they were doing to see his reactions and interactions with this mystery person. It widens when they all scramble to make it seem as if they were not openly staring. “These are the others boys I mentioned in my letters.”

You perk up and beam, looking around the group. With a wave, you introduce yourself and cling onto Time’s arm. You turn back to him with a smile that spells trouble. “You mentioned a descendent. Which one is he?”

“You have to guess.” Time snorts.

“What?!” You cry. “That’s not fair! I’ve waited this whole time to meet your group and you won’t even tell me this!”

“Nope.”

“You’re the worst.” You pout.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“Is anyone else confused about what’s happening right now?” Wind raises his hand.

“This is-” Time repeats your name. “And they are the love of my life.”

Warrior

Warrior was busy trying to count the rupees in his pouch so he could plan ahead on their purchases. Granted, he was starting to run low. It left him with two options. Either start selling or start cutting the grass.

Would that even work in this Hyrule? Is that something that he can count on of the time being? Four mentioned small being that live in the grass. Would they mind if he came in and cut it all down?

He sighs and stashes the pouch away. There’s very little he can do about it on his own regardless. It’s easier to pool their money together.

“Tough luck, Captain?” Sky comes up next to him and leans on the railing. “I’ve never seen you so annoyed.”

“It’s hardly anything new.” He tries to wipe the look off of his face. It’s not going to do him any good. He has to make sure the group has its needs met. No reason to worry the troops about their supply line.

“Lady troubles?” Sky ventures.

“Not this time.” He shakes his head. Ok, maybe he can laugh about it. It’s not exactly the picture he wanted to paint himself as but as long as you don’t take any of it to heart, then perhaps he can learn to mitigate it.

If not, he’s in trouble when he gets home.

“Well then maybe I can help with the problem.” Sky offers.

“I appreciate it but I’m afraid that it’ll take more than just the two of us-”

“Link?” A voice calls out.

Both men look up in the direction of the voice without thinking. Warrior freezes. His heart gets lodged in his throat. He recognizes that voice. Is it really-?

“Link?” You call again and he sees you walk out of the crowd around you. “What are you doing here?”

Sky tilts his head, unsure of what to make of this new person until he looks over to Warrior’s bright, start struck eyes. “Ah- you know them.”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Warrior grins, shouting without meaning to. He runs. You meet him halfway.

The two of your collide with enough force to shock the people around you. The chain comes around the corner, having heard their name called.

Warrior starts peppering your face with kisses. “I can’t believe you’re here. Are you ok? Are you safe? Were you sent by Lana?”

You giggle, trying to pull his hands away from your face so you can properly answer him. “No, no, no, nothing like that. I just walked around and found you here. I thought you’d be home later.”

He stops his barrage. His thumbs come up to rub little circles on your cheeks. “Darling, we’re not home right now. The farthest from it. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh.” You blink, finally looking around you. “Well Zelda mentioned that they were trying to rebuild some settlements so I thought I had just wandered into one of them.”

Warrior shakes his head. He might cry at the sight of you.

“Hey, Captain!” Hyrule calls out. “Are you going to keep making goo goo eyes or can we meet them?”

“What?” You try to look around Warrior, focusing on the voice. “Link? Do you know them?”

“More than I’d admit at the moment.” He mutters, turning to wave the group away. It doesn’t work. If anything they’re more intrigued.

 You snort and step away from him. “Let me go say hi.”

“No-” Warrior holds your hand. You stop and raise an eyebrow. He’s nervous. “Um...They might say some stuff.... Don’t pay too much attention to it.”

“Like what?”

“Uhhhh....”

“The pretty boy didn’t run away this time!” Legend laughs. “They must be the one!”

“Like that.” Warrior sighs, hanging his head in defeat. You bite your lip and pat his shoulder in consolation. “Are they always like this?”

“Unfortunately...”

“...I think we’ll get along just fine then.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Wild

Wild was separated from the group again. But not because he saw something shiny and decided to investigate.

He had to look for more food to cook for the group. Since it had more or less become his job to make sure the heroes besides him were fed, he had to make sure he had enough supplies to meet the demand.

It wasn’t looking to good. At least not in this particular area.

The bushes that he was sure to have berries were empty. Either something else came before him and plucked them all off, they were out of season or he was simply incorrect on the type of bushes these were.

That wasn’t going to stop him though.

Actually, there was one thing that interested him as he continued his search for edible food. There was a bit of cloth on the bush. Nothing that seems worthy of noting. It was beige and clearly torn.

Perhaps someone did come to take the berries before he did.

Wild moved on.

On his way to the next bush, he saw a few berries that were ripe for the picking. He didn’t hesitate to grab them. But besides the bush was a strange foot print on the ground. It wasn’t churred up by an animal. that was a human boot. It was slanted and elongated. Like the person slipped. It seemed fresh.

He began to follow that instead of the food trail.

Multiple bushes and branches were torn as he got closer to whatever it was.

He looks up to see that there were multiple claw marks against one of the tree. Those certainly didn’t belong to any human.

He kept walking, albeit with his hand on his bow just in case.

There was a groan. A very human groan. 

Wild rushes forward and his brain stops working.

In front of him lays a very familiar human. You were face down on the ground, a large cut to your mid-section with multiple tears to your clothes. You seemed to just be waking up from whatever had knocked you out to begin with. Slowly, you push your arm from under you and lift your face up.

Wild runs to you. “What...what...what....”

Wild swallows hard and move to roll you over. It’s easier to pick you up that way.

“Link?” You lull your head to the side. “...You found me...”

“I did.” Wild breathes out, lifting you. “I did, I did, I did...”

He says it on repeat like a broken record. the food has been forgotten, his main goal is to get you back to camp to tend to your injuries. If he’s lucky, Hyrule would be kind enough to heal you.

“I missed you.” You say as if you hadn’t just been attacked.

“I missed you too.” It breaks Wild out of his repetition.

His return to the camp spokes even the more seasons of heroes. Legend jumps to his feet while Warrior and Sky unhesitatingly begin to get the medical supplies without being asked.

“Wait- who are they?” Wind asks over the commotion. “Do you know them?”

“Yes.” Wild fights over the way his throat wants to close up. He places you down and begins to clean your wounds. Twilight gets a spare change of clothes and hands them over as Warrior hands over the gauze. Wild thanks them both. 

“Ok, but who are they?” Four asks kindly.

“My partner.” Wild says. It shuts the group up. They watch as he tends to you. 

Hyrule sneaks in the spell from behind Wild’s back to heal you.

They’ll save their questions for when you’re feeling better.

[rinixo]

thrones and people and cities

Din Djarin/Reader | 6.9k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Mand’alor!Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, resolved romantic tension, light angst, slight power imblance |

The first time you met the Mand’alor, you didn’t realize it was him. Perhaps it was because all Mandalorians tended to blur together and look the same to your inexperienced eyes, or maybe it was because you found him hiding at your workstation.

--

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: The character of 'reader' in this fic is the same scholar!reader, but the setting is set in an AU where Din is Mand'alor and does not know reader prior. I took many creative liberties with Mandalorian culture, but tried to stay within the realm of what is known through canon and legends. Final line is from ‘Fire and Blood’ by GRRM.

You had gotten used to seeing the armored warriors during your few short weeks on Mandalore, but rarely did they spend much time in your presence - or you theirs. So one early morning, when you rounded the corner towards your desk, a nice steaming cup of caf in your hand, you were quite surprised to see a tall figure hovering over your research.

You paused, confused. As part of a diplomatic delegation from Naboo, you had been assigned various tasks relating to your academic expertise. You had yet to have anyone other than the ambassadorial team come to check in on your research - which you did not mind, you preferred working without the uninterested glazed stares of politicians over your shoulder. Seeing a Mandalorian looking at your work was quite unusual.

Clearing your throat, you shuffled awkwardly on your feet. “Um…can I help you with something?” The armored man - was it a man? you couldn’t tell - turned slightly to face you, and while you could not see their expression you had a feeling that you had caught them off guard.

“Ah…no,” came the vocoder's reply. You raised a brow slightly and sipped on your caf.

“Ok…” you said slowly, walking towards your desk. “Well…do you mind if I sit down?” You inclined your head towards your chair in front of your workstation. “I have some charting to get done.”

The Mandalorian immediately stepped to the side to allow you to move in. “By all means,” he replied, and you passed him a small, polite smile as you slide into your seat.

You expected him to leave, but instead, the armored figure stayed near the side of your station, hovering. You tried your best to ignore him as you booted up your console, feeling awkward and not knowing if you should say anything.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” You asked again. The Mandalorian shook his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you returned to your work. You noticed that he seemed to try to act casual and lean against the wall, but his helmet would turn every so often to the doorway, keeping an eye on it. You had heard that Mando’s could be paranoid, but this felt ridiculous.

A good half hour passed, and all the while the armored man stayed at your station while you worked on your charts. Sometimes footsteps could be heard outside your workspace, and you would notice he would stiffen and slink back until he was cloaked in the shadows of the small room you were in.

“Are you hiding?” You finally asked after the Mandalorian had all but ducked behind your station as a group of different people passed outside your door. The incredulity in your tone was obvious, and he immediately put his hands on his hips, body language indicating offense.

“No,” he challenged, and you scoffed. “I’m…inspecting.” He made a show of looking around the room, to the back of your workstation, to the cobwebbed corners of the ceiling.

“Inspecting,” you repeated. “Right.” You leaned back in your chair, opening your hands in a ‘go ahead and look’ gesture to the work in front of you. To his credit, the Mandalorian shuffled over to peer down at your desk, eyeing over the data and charts.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he replied gruffly, and you smirked.

“You don’t even know what you’re looking at, do you?”

Part of you wondered if sassing a heavily armed Mandalorian was a good idea. He had kind of started it, you decided, by being so weird.

Arms crossed, the Mando fixed you with what you were sure was a pointed, helmeted glare. “Charts,” he finally decided, and this time you did roll your eyes.

—

You didn’t realize that the “inspector” was actually the Mand’alor until the second time you met. It was a few days after your odd encounter with the shiny-armored Mando, and you were in the mess hall, taking your midday meal while listening to your colleagues chat. Some of the Mandalorians were also present, a mixture of the helmet and helmet-less heads peppered amongst the different diplomatic delegations staying in the capital buildings. Mandalore had grown in population tremendously over the past year since the Mand’alor had rallied his people back to reclaim and resettle the planet, but still, there was a sense of hesitation amongst many of the armored warriors towards the visiting dignitaries.

In particular, scholars and academics like yourself were met with the most distance. The Mandalorian people seemed to favor those who practiced more combat-based skills than those whose expertise lay in other areas. It made sense, as their creed and warrior lifestyle were one of the things they were able to cling to after the great purge. By no means were they a stupid or unintelligent people, but you had much less in common with them as a whole than the military and other leaders you were with did.

As a result, all of this made you feel even more strange when a broad Mandalorian guard approached you at your table. You raised a brow, mouth full of the stew you were munching on.

“The Mand’alor requests your presence,” the guard said briskly, and you forced yourself to swallow the food in your mouth before you choked it back up out of surprise. Your colleagues around you fell silent as they watched. None of you had ever been asked to meet or even be in the presence of the leader of the Mandalorians. On the totem pole of ‘important people,’ you were seated quite comfortably near the bottom.

“Now,” the guard added, indicating that you were not going to be allowed to finish your meal. Standing awkwardly, you gave a small shrug towards the faces of your workmates, all of whom were staring in confusion. You guessed that your expression was quite similar.

You followed the guard out of the mess hall and towards the center of the building. Calling it a ‘palace’ would be a stretch, even if that is what it used to be. The building was still littered with rubble, even after a year of repairs, and the once grand fixtures and decorations that still stood were tattered and broken. Coming from the royal city of Theed on Naboo, it was a far different sight than what you were used to when you thought of the word ‘palace’.

Struggling to keep up with the guard's long-legged pace, you cleared your throat. “May I ask why the Mand’alor wants to see me?” You asked. The guard did not spare you an answer and merely quickened his stride. You sighed and hoped that your simple outfit was considered appropriate for meeting the equivalent of the king of this planet.

You were led to a set of reinforced doors, outside which two additional guards stood watch. They straightened and saluted the guard leading you as the pair of you approached.

“Enter,” was all you were told when you looked up at the Mando who had brought you here. You glanced up at the impassive guard, before steeling yourself and pushing open the door.

The room wasn’t large but had a huge vaulted ceiling peppered with holes, no doubt put there by artillery strikes and shrapnel. The midday light streamed in from above, joined by a few lamps set up in the corners. Other than that, it was empty - save for a lone and somewhat familiar man hovering over a low table covered in maps.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. His hands were braced on the table, and while the armor he wore was the same you had seen him in days ago, he was now also adorned with a thicker and more luxurious-looking fur-lined cloak. Though the room wasn’t very big, it felt like there was an endless chasm opening up between the two of you, and you were resisting the temptation to jump inside of it.

You clamped your mouth shut from where it hung open, throat dry with realization. You had sassed the king of Mandalore. The legendary bounty hunter turned leader of the Mandalorian diaspora. The man who had defeated Moff Gideon slaughtered a krayt dragon and was a personal friend of many other terrifying people, including the daimyo of Mos Espa. If all of the tales and rumors were true – and you had no reason to believe they weren’t – the man could kill you a million different ways with just the cup of caf sitting on the table near his hands.

Your mind fled back to the meeting you and your delegation had with the Naboo ambassador before your arrival on the planet. The importance of being seen and not heard was drilled into your heads, as well as the intergalactic implications of a ‘diplomatic incident’ if you offended someone. You had barely paid attention, not planning to be doing much more than your research while on Mandalore, and internally you kicked your past self for dozing off. If your ambassador were here now, you bet he would have died of shock. Either that or strangled you to death.

You were sure that you had been brought here to be reprimanded, punished, something – but to your shocked surprise, the man relaxed back on his heels, posture open and welcoming.

“Ah. Good timing” came the familiar voice. “Thanks for coming.”

Your eyes narrowed, unsure if this was a joke or not. “You’re…” you trailed off lamely.

“Not an inspector,” the Mand’alor acquiesced, tipping his head in a small show of acknowledgment. “My apologies for not introducing myself the other day. I was not expecting to be…confronted.”

You paused, thinking back to this man – this king – hiding behind your desk. It had seemed silly back then, but now it was just ludicrous. Like a fever dream. No one was ever going to believe you.

The Mand’alor gestured for you to move closer to the table, and you responded with leaden legs. “P-pardon my behavior, your highness-“ you stuttered out, pausing when he sighed and put up his hand.

“Don’t,” he said shortly, making you wince. He immediately softened his posture in response. “Please, it’s all right. You did not offend me,” you wondered if the sound of his smile was genuine or not, “And you don’t need to call me that.”

You nodded slowly. “All right.” You stood as straight as you could, hands clasped behind your back, trying to appear as proper as you could. “What can I do for you, your high- sir?”

Thankfully he ignored your clumsy slip of the tongue and gestured to the table behind him. “I need your help with something.” He shuffled some charts – physical ones, on actual paper – and pulled up a hologram of a star system.

“I’m looking for something,” he continued. “A planet, I think, or at the very least a civilization. It’s been lost for many millennia, but I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction.”

You nodded, interest perking up despite your recent shock. As an archeo-astronomer, you assisted many people with deciphering ancient star maps to track down treasures or chart the movement of ancient astronomic bodies. Most of the time your clients were impossibly rich with nothing better to do than spend millions of credits tracking down a family’s lost heirloom. This was the first time a head of state had ever asked for assistance.

“Do you know what it’s called?” You asked, inquisitiveness making you feel braver. You peered down at the charts as the Mand’alor pushed one gently toward you.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure it even exists. But it’s important to me that I try.” The sincerity in his voice made you smile softly, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you eagerly leaned over the table to get a better look. The Mand’alor explained that what he was looking for was for someone very important to him, and while he could not give you very many details, he was able to show you all of what he had managed to pull together so far.

“It’s not much,” he sighed. “But I’ve reached the limit of my ability to make sense of it all.” You had since pulled out your datapad and were beginning to cross-reference pieces of the data on the table with your research.

“It isn’t much,” you agree after a moment, “But it is something. I’ve managed more with less.”

There was a hum of admiration from the man at that. “Thank you. I can compensate you, of course-“

“Oh, no,” you interrupted. “That’s not necessary.” You were here on behalf of your people to assist the Mandalorians, were you not? Accepting payment felt wrong to you.

“Very well,” the Mand’alor’s voice sounded amused. “If you need access to resources, anything – please just ask.”

You passed him a small smile. “I will.”

--

The weeks passed by swiftly now that you had something to focus on. Before you had been doing some basic research, nothing groundbreaking, but now you felt invigorated and excited about what you were looking for. The Mand’alor had gifted you with quite the puzzle to solve.

You didn’t see him very often, but he would stop by your workstation every few days to check in on your progress. The more you discovered, the more elaborate your charting and analytics were becoming, and your work expanded to fill the small room you were in. The Mand’alor would stand quietly as you explained what you were doing and what all the numbers and coordinates meant. You appreciated that he listened, and sometimes even proffered a question or two. Thinking about how he was a king sometimes made you stumble over your words, but he would set you back on track with a gentle but firm affirmation of your work.

You learned that he had been hiding that first day when you found him at your workstation. In an attempt to escape a gaggle of advisors and dignitaries, he had ducked into the alcove you had claimed as your own. You teased him gently, finding the whole idea of the legendary Mandalorian bounty hunter hiding from powdered politicians for a brief moment of silence endearing.

The man had also told you his real name – Din – one late evening. You were running out of ways to address him, and he could tell you were struggling with not calling him by a title. With the name, your friendship then began to grow even more familiar, and you felt a little special knowing something that most others were not privy to.

This particular day, you were compiling galactic coordinates when the stoic leader showed up at your doorway. You turned to greet him but paused as you noticed a small figure at his side, holding onto his leg. It looked to be a child, with wrinkly green skin, large ears, and wide, curious eyes. It looked up and around your room in awe, gaze following the holograms of stars as they floated serenely about the space.

“I thought you might like to meet the one you’re putting all this work in for,” Din said lightly, looking down at the figure at his feet. You smiled softly as you stood, hands clasped lightly behind your back.

“Hello,” you said politely, introducing yourself. The child blinked up at you, mouth opening in a small coo.

“This is Grogu,” Din translated, and at the mention of his name, the child looked up at the armored man. “My son.”

Your eyes widened, and you coughed lightly into your fist. “Your…son,” you repeated, almost as a question. Your mind raced, trying to correlate the appearance of the baby with the armored man in front of you. You knew Mandalorians didn’t all look humanoid, though all of those that you had met so far did. You had just assumed that the Mand’alor would be the same. You also had not heard that he was a father, or married, or whatever it was that Mandalorians did in that regard. Something in you twinged with what almost felt like jealousy – towards who or what, you could not place.

“Well,” you croaked out, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “He is…quite adorable. Does he take after his mother?” You asked hopefully. That got a real laugh out of the man, and you flushed in response. You were just curious…

“No, no,” Din explained. “He’s a foundling. Like…adoption,” he clarified.

You flushed darker with the realization. Of course. Adoption. That made much more sense.

“Ah…well, I’m glad to meet you, Grogu,” you were eager to change the subject, and continued with the conversation. “Is there anything, in particular, you’d like to see?”

Din stooped to pick up the child and held him at his side. “He doesn’t speak,” the man explained, stepping further inside the room. “But he understands. I was hoping you could show him your progress so far. I think he would like that.”

Nodding, you passed them a small grin and turned to adjust your hologram. Explaining coordinates and charts was not easy for the average adult to understand, not to mention a little child. A visual representation would be better.

The three of you stood under the moving lights of the hologram as you explained as simply as you could what you had discovered so far. When Grogu reached his hands out towards the spinning planets, you zoomed in to allow him to play with the lights, a delighted grin on his little face. You entertained him by fast-forwarding through supernovae and asteroid impacts, showering the room in bursts of light that reflected like fireworks in his dark eyes.

You finished up, now talking more to his father than him as you broke down what point you were at in your findings. You were not near any kind of solid conclusion yet, but you were further along than he had ever gotten, and you preened inwardly as he told you so.

“Thank you for showing him,” Din spoke. Grogu looked from his father’s helmeted face to yours and stretched out a little green hand.

“Of course,” you responded, extending your hand to meet the childs. He grasped your fingers and cooed again. Your body was suddenly filled with a brief but overwhelming sense of wonderment and admiration that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but as soon as he let go of you it faded. You gaped as the Mandalorian bid you farewell and watched as he marched out of the room, his little green child peering back at you over his father’s shoulder.

--

The months passed without much incident. You continued your research, sometimes joined by the Mand’alor and his son, but mostly on your own. You were absorbed in your work, finding yourself wanting a reason for the man to come and see what you had discovered. The days you had a lot to show him were the days he spent the most time with you, and so you worked hard to have something worthwhile to present.

The weather began to grow colder, and the Mandalorians began to prepare for some kind of celebration. It was based on a tradition of old, something to do with saying farewell to the warm autumn months and welcoming in the bitter bite of winter. It was the first time the nomadic people would have the chance to celebrate in a central location before the purge, and so the palace was alight with preparation and excitement.

You yawned, leaning back in your chair and looking up at the ceiling. The celebration itself culminated in a grand feast later that night, to be held in the throne room. All the foreign delegations were invited as well, and you were more than happy to mingle quietly while eating all of the delicious food you had smelled being prepared for the last couple of days.

Rubbing your eyes, you stood. A break from your work would do you good, you decided. A nice evening, a few drinks, and then you could start again the next day feeling refreshed.

A few hours later, you found yourself in the grand central throne room, surrounded by many other excited, chatting people. Dressed simply in traditional Naboo formalwear, you sipped on a pleasantly sweet cocktail and munched on the plentiful hors d’ouevres. The feast was set to begin shortly with the arrival of the Mand’alor and his retinue, so you began to make your way toward the long table reserved for the Naboo delegation.

A soft touch on your shoulder made you turn, and you saw the same guard that had escorted you to Din months earlier. “My lady,” the guard said quietly, and you blinked at the honorific. “The Mand’alor wishes to invite you to his table for the feast, in a show of thanks for your assistance.” You blinked again, not sure what to say in response. You glanced up at the main table in the front of the room, where it was set up on the dais. It was very central, you noticed. Your heart fluttered anxiously.

“I…would be delighted,” you squeaked out, and the guard nodded. He stepped aside and gestured for you to move towards the dais as the sound of horns signaled the rest of the guests to make their way to their seats.

Ahead of you, the Din and his advisors – and Grogu, you saw – were settling in at the royal table. Din was dressed more resplendently than you had ever seen him before. His armor shone, and his clothing underneath was dyed a rich series of earthy browns, reds, and greens. His helmet was adorned by what looked like a crown of beskar, shaped like the horns of some great beast. A heavy cloak sat on his shoulders, lined with plush, cream fur. All in all, it was stunning and took your breath away. In comparison, you felt severely underdressed, especially now that you would be joining him in front of the hundreds of others in attendance.

Expecting to be seated at the very end of the long table, your head swam as you were instead led directly to the center of the table where Din was sitting. A chair to his left was open, and the guard pulled it out for you, clearly indicating that you were to sit there.

You sat stiffly, avoiding the looks of your delegation below – especially the icy gaze of the head ambassador. Instead, you focused on the table, looking at the impressive spread of delicacies laid out before you.

“Are you all right?” A low voice asked from your side. You glanced over at Din, who sat more relaxed in his lavish wear. On his other side, Grogu babbled and reached his hands out toward the steaming dishes in front of him.

Clearing your throat, you nodded shortly. “Yes,” you ventured. “I was just not expecting to sit here. In the middle. With you.”

Din reached a hand over subtly and laid it over your own. “It’s the least I can do, to repay you for everything you’ve done so far,” he explained. “And it’s my table. I can sit next to whomever I want.”

You let out a small laugh at the sarcastic tone in his voice. During your time on Mandalore, you had come to understand the mysterious leader and the events that led to him being here a bit more. He was the very definition of a reluctant leader, uncomfortable with titles and more concerned with helping others than putting himself above them. He had a reputation for being firm, but kind. Strong, yet gentle where it mattered. His actions had endeared many to his service, pledging their bodies and weapons to his cause, and he took that very seriously. You got the feeling that deep down he was just as uncomfortable as you, sitting there as the center of attention, and that made you feel marginally better.

The feast began with a short tale from a Mandalorian elder, detailing the history behind the festivities. You tried to listen but found yourself distracted by Din’s hand remaining on your own. The warm, heavy weight of his hand dwarfed yours, and your appetite was forgotten as his thumb brushed gently against your skin.

As the evening went on, you sipped slowly from your glass and made small conversations with those around you. The Mand’alor greeted the various guests who came up to the table to introduce themselves and share their gratitude for the invitation. Grogu had moved from his seat to his father’s lap, and you watched in amusement and amazement at how much food he managed to consume.

Soon it was the Naboo’s turn to approach the table, and you avoided looking directly at the ambassador as he swished up towards the dais. He made some grand, pompous statements about how the Naboo valued their relationship with Mandalore before he turned awkwardly towards you.

“You honor us by inviting one of our delegation to your table, your highness,” the ambassador bit out. “I hope the girl is representing our people appropriately.” You frowned into your drink as you swallowed. The man was obviously put off by the fact that it was you at the Mand’alor’s side, and not one of the ambassadorial staff. His gaze felt like it was probing every inch of your skin, commanding you to explain yourself. Who did you think you were?

“The honor is mine,” Din replied smoothly, “to have the privilege of working with such an intelligent and determined woman. Her contributions to a personal project of mine cannot be overstated.” He turned so that his helmet faced you, and you looked back at him as your heart swelled. “The Naboo are blessed to have someone such as her to represent them.”

To have the leader of Mandalore drop the kindest words anyone had ever said about you so firmly in front of the now-flustered ambassador made feelings you didn’t have names for blossom from your head to your toes. You had no words and just looked back at the man who had still not removed his hand from yours. You hoped your gaze said what your voice could not.

The ambassador said a polite but curt farewell, and you blinked back tears as the feast continued.

--

As the festivities died down, you looked around the slowly emptying room. Most of the guests had begun to leave, either to go sleep off the copious amounts of food and liquor they had consumed or to continue the celebrations elsewhere with even more food and liquor. You were contemplating getting up and heading to your sleeping quarters when Din turned towards you.

“I should get him to bed,” he said softly, and you looked down to his lap where Grogu was curled up in his arms. “Will you walk with me?”

You nodded, rising as he did, following at his side as the two of you left the throne room. The hallways were fairly quiet and lit by shining lunar light that filtered in through great windows and open arches. The cool air was refreshing after the time spent in the throne room, and you found yourself thinking that the palace was becoming a beautiful place after all.

“Thank you,” you said as you walked. Din inclined his head towards you, his arms cradling his softly snoring son. “Those were the kindest things anyone has ever said about me.”

“I meant them,” came his reply, and you felt your cheeks warm. You wondered if you should compliment him in turn, spill out all the lovely things about him that made you feel dizzy and grounded all at once. All of it got caught in your throat all at once, and you settled for comfortable silence as you continued towards his chambers.

The journey ended all too soon, an abrupt stop outside heavy doors. You stood back as Din pushed the door open slowly, trying not to jostle the child too much. He turned to look back at you, silhouetted by warm lamplight from inside his chambers.

You suddenly felt incredibly overwhelmed by all the events leading up to this very moment. You thought back to the ambassador’s icy stare. Who did you think you were? You were a scholar from Naboo. No one special. Not part of any aristocratic or royal family. You were only added to the delegation because no one else in your department was willing to go. Who were you, to work with the leader of Mandalore? To sit next to him in front of his entire court, to have him touch your hand so softly?

Who were you to hope that he’d invite you inside his rooms?

“Let me put him down, and I can escort you back-“

“No need,” you interrupted him. “I’ll make it back all right. Thank you for offering, though.”

He paused like he wanted to argue it with you, but you were already backing away. “All right,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Your replied voice pitched too high in an attempt to drown out the other emotions threatening to bubble up and out of your chest. You quickly turned and trotted away, trying to ignore how long it took to hear the sound of his door closing.

--

Din gently set Grogu down in his cradle, tucking him into the soft blankets. All of the excitement from the evening had done a good job of tiring him out, and he let out a soft snore as he snuggled into the bedding. Pulling off his helmet, Din placed it on his bed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He sat next to it, slouched over, hands clasped in front of him.

He thought about you.

The way the corner of your mouth would lift a nanosecond before you broke out into a full smile. The way your eyes crinkled with humor at his dry wit. The way you’d focus on your work, chewing on your lip as you unraveled whatever problem currently blocking your way forward.

Sighing, Din pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling foolish. Had he embarrassed you? He had been caught up in the evening, seeing you step hesitantly up the dais to sit next to him, and he had felt his pulse in his throat. Everything he said about you was true, and he’d say it over and over just to see you look at him like you had earlier – but had it been fair to all but force you to sit there next to him? Your idiotic ambassador had made his displeasure all too clear, and he wondered if it would only make things worse if he were to ensure you would not face repercussions for his inability to hide his affection for you.

He had almost invited you into his chambers. It was on the tip of his tongue, and then he had seen the hesitancy in your expression. Had he just imagined the way you had been looking at him recently? The thinly veiled desire? Perhaps he was just seeing the reflection of his thoughts in your eyes. His heart felt like lead.

I am a fool, Din chastised himself. He had become too complacent, too comfortable with structure, with domesticity. Who was he to imagine – to hope, even – that you’d come to feel the same desire he held for you?

--

You did not see Din for several days after the feast. Partly because you had taken a day to sleep off a heartbreak-fueled hangover, and partly because you were avoiding an uncomfortable confrontation.

After another night of laying restlessly in your bed, you decided to do something to try to clear your head. You had set up a small observatory on the shattered roof of one of the outer buildings, far enough away from the lights of the palace that you could use your telescope. It wasn’t very powerful, but it was light enough for you to pack with you, and looking up at the stars always made you feel better.

Bundling up in a cloak and scarf, you made your way outside. The night air was crisp, the snap of winter on its way. The skies were clear, and the moon was not too bright. Ideal conditions for some light stargazing.

There, he found you, bent over the eyepiece of your telescope. You heard him approaching, the crunch of rubble under his heavy boots. He could move silently if he wished, so you knew he was warning you of his arrival through the soft noise.

He came to stand at your side, hovering, just like the first time you had met him. Not hiding this time, though.

You focused your scope on a nearby planet, looking at its moon. Just one, tidally locked, eternally orbiting for the next however many billions of years until it drifted off or crashed into the surface of the body it was bound to.

The two of you stayed like that, the silence only broken by the occasional sound of a soft breeze. You wondered if you should say something, or if this was the mark of a reset to whatever your fragile relationship was. You could continue to orbit around this, around him, until you drifted away – or you could crash straight into it.

“The galaxy is full of patterns,” you finally broke, and the words started to pour out of you. Din stayed silent, listening intently.

“Doesn’t matter the scale. If you know where to look, and how to look for it, eventually you’ll see the patterns start to emerge. You can track them.” You straightened and looked up towards the sky. Din followed your gaze, the two of you looking up at the twinkling lights in the darkness.

“That’s what I do,” you continued. “It’s like following a trail backward. You start where something is and figure out where it used to be. And the patterns stay. They don’t just appear out of nowhere.”

Tearing your gaze away from the sky, you looked up at Din. He, in turn, looked down at you. Even in the low light, his armor shone like a beacon.

“That sounds comforting,” Din spoke after a moment. “Knowing that some things stay the same.”

“I like the eventuality of it,” you agreed. “It makes life feel less…chaotic. It makes some things feel more meaningful.”

“What kinds of things?” He asked quietly. You gave him a sad, soft smile.

“Discovering new places. Meeting new people,” you explained. “Going to a new market and trying a different version of a meal you grew up eating. The feeling of the different flavors and textures mingling with those you are familiar with reminds you that maybe we’re all not as different as we think we are. That in the end, we all come from the same primordial dust, and it’s back to that dust we’ll eventually return.”

“You should have been a poet instead of an astronomer,” Din breathed out, and you could hear the smile in the way he spoke. You smiled in return.

“Some philosophers believe that mathematical relationships have tones of energy,” you mused. “All connected by patterns of proportions. Music that isn’t audible, but that you feel in your soul.”

“So the galaxy is singing,” Din finished, and you let out a small laugh.

“Now who’s the poet?” You teased.

Din huffed in amusement and reached out a gloved hand. You placed your own in his, the weight of it familiar.

“I am sorry for the other night,” he said quietly, stroking the skin gently near your thumb. You accepted the apology with a soft gaze, not knowing how to respond, and afraid of what he might say next.

“But…I’m also not sorry,” he continued. You felt him squeeze your hand.

“I’m not sorry for thinking you’re beautiful,” he pulled you closer, taking your other hand in his, and cupping them against your two bodies. “Or for wanting to kiss you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The space between the two of you was narrowing by the second. Instead of drifting off, you were dangerously close to colliding with the king of Mandalore, orbits intertwining.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, sounding as breathless as you felt.

“Please,” you choked out. A flash of silver, as his helmet was lifted off his head, and you barely caught a glimpse of tanned skin and deep, brown eyes before his lips were on yours.

It was gentle at first, almost chaste, but he quickly deepened it with his hand softly cupping your chin. His other arm went to wrap around your waist, pulling you up and into him, and you sighed into it.

The two of you broke apart just enough for your eyes to finally meet. Deep, soulful eyes drank you in, and you brought a hand up to cup his cheek and gently run your thumb over his plush lower lip.

“Wh-what else aren’t you sorry for?” You asked, and his lips turned up into a smile. He took your hand, placing a soft kiss against your palm.

“Let me show you.”

--

His chambers were warm, his bed even more so. His skin, bare against yours, was practically fire.

The two of you fell into each other easily, pushing and pulling like the tides. His hands cupped your face and then moved down to spread open your thighs so he can taste you between them.

You grasp his hair in your hands – soft, brown curls – and shudder at the feeling of his scruff on the inside of your thigh. If you were more coherent, you’d laugh at knowing it was the Mand’alor you had between your legs, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He took there and then over, and then did it again until you were limp-legged and breathless. Slinking his way back up your body, Din pressed his torso to yours and captured your mouth in another desperate kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he muttered lowly, and you gazed up at him, vision blurry in your ecstasy. You cup his face, steadying his breath against you.

“I need you in me,” you plead, and Din closes his eyes with a groan.

“Maker,” he breathes. “The things you do to me.” You feel him take himself in his fist, lining up with your soaked cunt. You arch your back as he pushes in, keening at the stretch. He had prepared you well, but the size of him still took some effort to take.

Hunched over your body, he rolls his hips up into you, hands braced on either side of your head. You hook your legs over his hips, trying to keep him as close as you can, all the way to the base. His pace is steady but unforgiving, demanding what you were all too willing to give.

The feeling of his cock filling you so sweetly has you coming undone again, writhing underneath his broad torso. He rides you through it, eyes fixed on your mouth, your breasts, and down to where your bodies are combined.

“So fucking wet,” Din growls, pace quickening as he chases his own release. You clench around him at those words, and he lets out a wrecked groan. “I knew you’d take me so fucking well, beautiful girl-“

“So good,” you gasp out, and his forehead comes down to rest on yours.

“I know,” he rambles, feeding you the thick of him, all the way to the root. A few purposeful thrusts later, you feel him throb inside of you seconds before he groans out your name into your neck as he cums.

His hips are locked to yours, and he ruts up into you – not pulling out, but pushing his seed up against the seal of your womb. Your hands come down to grasp at his waist, nails leaving small crescent moons at the skin there. He shudders against you, overstimulated, chest heaving from exertion. Looking up from your neck, Din, slots his mouth messily over yours once more, finally allowing his full weight to fall between your thighs.

You stay like that for uncounted breathless moments, both of your bodies recovering from the experience of finally, finally joining together. Eventually, your bodies settle so that Din is on his back, and your head rests on his shoulder.

“He’s going to be so mad,” you joke quietly, and Din hums in response.

“Who?”

“The ambassador,” you laugh, and he groans.

“Please don’t talk about him while you’re in my bed,” Din pleads, and you laugh again.

“Who knows how many treaties and policies I’ve broken,” you murmur, lips pressed against his warm skin. You dart your tongue out to taste the salt of him, and he shivers.

“Well,” he says, pulling you up so that he can place sweet, soft kisses on the side of your lips. “As Mand’alor, I can think of how you can fix them.”

You smile against his mouth. “What does the king ask of me?”

He tightens his grip on your waist.

“All I ask is all of you, forever.”

[literary-motif]

Strictly Business

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Isaac asks for a relationship that is entirely professional. You oblige, to both your disappointment.

Warnings: talk of insomnia

“I just thought—” you began hesitantly, moving the tray of cinnamon swirls closer to Isaac, prompting him to take a second one. The placating motion did nothing to ease the frown on his face. His hard stare remained fixed on you, annoyed and dismissive. You felt your heart sinking and averted your eyes.

Isaac hummed unbothered as if he couldn’t care less about your request to spend time together — as if he did not care in the slightest to entertain your pathetic longing for human company. “I’m busy, you know,” he said by way of dismissal and pushed the plate of freshly baked cinnamon swirls back towards you. 

After a bit of prying, you had found out that his mother used to make them when he felt sad and — with the anniversary of his parent’s death so recent — you wanted to cheer him up and surprise him with his comfort food. Isaac did not appreciate your efforts, evidently.

You tried to take the blunt rejection of both your company and care for him in stride, but you could not suppress the tight clench of your jaw as your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. “If I overstepped the other day in the garden,” you said slowly, raising your gaze to meet Isaac’s and show him the sincerity of your apology, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I—”

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, rising from his seat at the table and straightening his tie. “Think nothing of it. It was a lapse of judgment on both parts. We can pretend it never happened.”

“But I actually—”

“No,” Isaac interrupted, holding up a hand to silence you, “our relationship is strictly professional and I intend to keep it that way. I’m sorry, but I am in no way interested in anything more. There is nothing between us. Understand?” 

Isaac’s stare burned into you and you swallowed thickly, hiding how much his words hurt. “I understand,” you said in a tone so calm and drained of feeling it took Isaac aback. 

He blinked in surprise, no longer used to your flat tone and apathetic stare. ‘Sir’ hung unsaid in the air between you. Isaac cleared his throat to break the loaded silence stretching across the house again. 

You got up from your seat, brushing down the front of your clothes. “Well, as you said, my services will not be needed on my day off. I will be in the library should you change your mind,” you said tonelessly, leveling Isaac stoically. 

There was a glint of worry in his eyes, a chip in his armor you could only spot because you had spent many hours with him, paying close attention to his expressions and mannerisms. Isaac looked unsure. His mouth was slightly agape, but whatever he wanted to say was buried a moment later, hidden behind the thick wall of nonchalance and indifference he put up. 

The crack in his mask was sealed, and expressionless eyes met your own.

“Happy reading.”

Isaac thought he knew what loneliness felt like — he had lived in solitude for years now — but no amount spent on his own had prepared him for the heart-wrenching sorrow he felt as you continuously brushed him off, retreating into yourself and being the strict definition of utterly professional. 

He felt hollow, watching you set the table with only one plate for him to eat at alone, hearing your monotonous voice ask him if he would prefer rice or pasta, seeing your lips twist in a polite but ingenuous smile as you greeted him in the mornings, handing him his coffee and disappearing to start on your daily chores. 

There had been no sweets, nor snacks you would prepare for him and shily requested he give you feedback on. There were no little bursts of light throughout his day as your paths crossed and you shot him a smile or playful wink. 

There were no intimate moments between you two where you would look at him with an open, vulnerable expression and rest your head against his chest as you told him about your past. There was no tender, featherlight caress of your fingers on his cheeks as he revealed some of his fears and troubles to you. 

You had shut him out, adhering to the boundaries he had impulsively set as his anxieties got the better of him. Now he was left with the consequences of pushing you away.

‘There is nothing between us,’ he had said, but why was his heart breaking every time you looked at him with your cold stare and turned your back a moment later? Why was he lying awake at night, his mind occupied only with thoughts of you as the devouring feeling of loneliness and loss swelled in his chest and choked him? Why was he missing you so terribly that it made tears gather in his eyes when you had your back turned?

It was pathetic, and one night, after you had shot down his concern for the dark circles under your eyes and told him it should be of no matter as long as you performed your duties to his standard, he recognized his sentiment to be a lie. 

There was something between you. There had to be because the sinking feeling as you, clearly hurting, turned away once more tore him to shreds. There was no other explanation for it, but Isaac was afraid of what that realization brought with it.

He was afraid that the admission to his all-encompassing love for you would be the very thing that destroyed him. Everyone he loved was gone, and he felt his hands beginning to shake at the thought that you — now among those he adored — would meet the same fate because he was too slow, too weak, too incompetent to protect you.

Still, there was only so much hollowness he could endure, and the loneliness engulfing him was so acute that it had begun hurting to exist in the house. Your brief company somehow made him feel the loneliest of all.

A quiet sound of protest came from one of the corners of the library as Isaac switched off the light. “Sorry,” he apologized tiredly, turning the light back on to look at you, huddled on the small sofa with a blanket around you and a book in your hands. Judging by the cover, it was Frankenstein. “I thought you had already gone to bed and left the light on by mistake. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. It was late. However, something kept you from sleeping for the past few weeks, and no matter how tired you were, it was nearly impossible for you to doze off. At times, when the morning sun was slowly rising over the horizon and the first rays illuminated the dark blue of night, it felt like you were too tired to fall asleep.

“No worries,” you said curtly, resuming your reading, “I will make sure to turn off the light when I go up in a minute. Good night.” 

The lie rolled off your tongue as if it were nothing. Isaac did not move from his place in the doorway. You knew he knew that you couldn’t sleep. It was evident in your appearance, your red eyes with dark bags beneath them that looked more like bruises with every passing day. The soft footsteps he could hear pacing around the house at night when you were too restless to sit down. He would be a lousy private investigator if he had not noticed your insomnia coming back in full force.

“I—” he said into the silence, making you look towards him.

“It is rather late,” you answered, trying to discourage Isaac from starting any conversation. In truth, it hurt having him near you when he was seemingly an infinity away, hidden behind some brick wall he had put up to keep the world out — you included. 

It was his decision, and after the kiss, or as he called it, a ‘lapse of judgment,’ you did not think it right to push his boundaries after he had so clearly told you and shown you with his actions, that he wanted nothing but a professional relationship with you. It made your heart crack, but you were adamant to give him only what he asked for, only as much as he wanted from you. It made the situation somewhat bearable to know it was what he wanted.

Isaac cleared his throat, stepping further into the room. “I know, but I— It’s just that you—” he stuttered, suddenly nervous at confronting you. “You haven’t been—”

“Well, I certainly am tired,” you said, marking the book to set it on the small table beside the couch and rising from your comfortable cocoon to fold the blanket neatly and place it over the back of the couch.

“Wait, I—”

“Good night then, boss.” You brushed past him and kept walking towards the door, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. “Don’t forget to turn off the light,” you said, fighting against the urge to lean into Isaac’s light touch. It wasn’t professional. That was not what he wanted. There was nothing between you.

“Don’t call me that, Pickle,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing small circles against your wrist. “I haven’t been— Our relationship has not been strictly business for a while now. It never was to begin with.”

“I thought that was what you wanted out of me,” you answered, unable to keep your voice from breaking as Isaac raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing the back of your hand. “You said—”

“I was wrong,” he said quickly, his eyes so earnest that you could not help but believe him, “I was scared that I would get too close to you after the kiss and then you would— you would leave me and— I don’t think I can go through that again, losing a person I love.”

At Isaac‘s words, something within you broke.

Tears began welling up in your eyes and you stepped closer to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, which he returned immediately. It felt so good to have him close to you again, his fingers running soothingly along your back as you could feel his elevated heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“You love me?” 

Isaac swallowed, squeezing you tighter and pulling you even closer to him as he steeled himself. “I do,” he said shakily, but the truth of his words was evident in the underlying confidence with which he delivered them, “and I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’m sorry I pushed you away and dismissed our relationship as a mere work association when it has always been more than that. I— I was scared and I didn’t know what to do after you— after what you did for me and—“

You leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, longing to do it properly this time, wanting to erase the bitter taste of rejection that had accompanied the feeling of Isaac’s lips on yours.

“Please,” he whispered, inclining his head as you moved to meet his lips.

Suffice it to say, with Isaac lying next to you in his soft double bed — him pulling you close and whispering sweet nothings into the darkness of night as your head rested on his chest and his arms were securely wrapped around you — you fell asleep almost immediately.

Isaac smiled, placing a kiss against the top of your head as he listened to your breathing even out.

[otaku553]

kk wow you went so much more in depth than i thought but that was awesome. sending another but pls take all the time you need to answer this one.

i don't think i realized you had a colored version of two of them til today because i was going off of the sketches you posted at the start of the month. the one that caught my eye in that and who i have a different perspective of now that i've seen full color is the shortest hero. you mentioned that the clothing didn't come from any one culture, but if you have an answer it would be cool to hear: what's the long cloth hanging off of the waist belt of this hero called? or, if it's part of the belt, what's the name of the full thing?

[ also a more in-universe follow-up: am very curious about the symbols all four have on their clothing and what your thought process was behind each. i'll settle for the shortest hero's butterfly-esque symbol if you just wanna do one (: ]

Thanks for sending another ask!! This is probably going to get quite long again!

So first, to answer the question, there’s actually not a very easy answer for what that long cloth is called! It shows up quite often in fantasy outfits and armor of knights, and you might sometimes find it being called a tabard or a surcoat online. Really though, it’s closer to something called a monastic scapular, which is a western Christian garment that hangs over the shoulders and goes down to the knees.

The tabard is usually some form of light tunic or jacket worn over chainmail and underneath armor, and I think in fantasy armor the stylization of it as longer and thinner towards the bottom eventually turned it into a pretty common thing? But the point is that it’s usually attached to something hanging from the shoulders and not just from the belt. But having something hanging in front of the crotch from the belt does have some precedence in the Roman pteruges, so this might be where that kind of belt fabric came from.

So in the hero of yore designs, the pieces of fabric hanging from the belts aren’t actually very historically accurate, and follow more the trends of fantasy outfit design. But mostly they act as a sort of conisistent point between all the heroes that shows each hero’s insignia. This sort of hanging centerpiece of fabric has been a pretty consistent part of my designs for a really long time, though in my previous Kirby designs this mostly took the form of some part of a double breasted coat, like so:

But yeah! On another note, while the hero of dark’s outfit isn’t based on any specific culture, the hero of soul’s (the butterfly hero) outfit definitely is based on Japanese clothing! The very long sleeves are based on furisode, but there are some liberties I took with the whole design as a whole, I.e. the pants are based on hakama in construction and shape but don’t actually have all the pleats a hakama should, and have added slits for style. You generally also wouldn’t wear hakama with fancy long kimono I think, nor would you use a tasuki with it. Tasuki are generally used to keep the sleeves out of the way while doing activities, while long sleeves are more ceremonial and decorative. I did intentionally keep the sleeves very long on the design, however, for character reasons that I might go more in depth in if I ever make an individual outfit breakdown post.

I’m sorry I didn’t get around to answering about the symbols! I also have a lot of thoughts about them, so I might also make a separate post about that haha

[moodymisty]

Heyoooo- I have a request, but totally up to you if you want to do it! Have you listened to Padam Padam by Kylie Minogue? Anytime I hear it all I can think about is how Hunter can definitely hear readers heartbeat. I'd love to see your interpretation of a spicy moment between Hunter and Reader based off the song :3c

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Hey, thanks for stopping by! So first off I love this idea, so I was super excited to write this one and got it done fast lol. Decided to do a sort of Hunter being a badass and reader going 'oh shit I'm horny' moment, since that was what came to mind when I had a listen. I hope that's ok! ^///^

Summary: Hunter notices that your heart beats a little faster whenever you see him fresh from the fight.

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral (female receiving), Hunter using his bandana as a gag, armor kink, Competency kink, Maybe some semblance of voyeurism? there's people in the barracks next door

Word count: 2400 exactly

The training droids power down without any fanfare, and you watch as Clone Force 99 stands from the respective covers they'd just been using. Hunter gestures with a hand to form up on him, the lot of them take their leave.

He has point, all of them forming up slightly behind him fiddling with their weapons as Hunter rakes a hand over his messy hair; His other hand flicking the safety of his blaster on with his thumb before slotting it in his side holster.

His lips are slightly parted as he breathes- tired, but not exhausted. Even after raking a hand through his hair it's still a mess, but then again, when isn't it. Watching he reaches one of his arms behind his shoulders and stretches, his armor plates pulling apart and showing a bit more of his black body glove than usual.

You tug at the collar of your top.

He didn't miss even a single shot out there; between keeping his squad in line and everything else, he manages it all like nothing else you've seen. Sure you've known the 99's for a bit now, but that doesn't make it any less impressive.

His shoulders are more rigid now, back straighter, and he has this sort of energy about him that's far more intense than the Hunter you usually deal with. You know it's still him; But this Hunter just put holes in a couple dozen droids like it was a joke, and he was barely even trying.

You don't know how you should feel about the fact that you're ceaselessly aroused by it, judging by the throbbing in your cunt, but here you are.

Suddenly you hear the hiss of the door sliding open, and you almost jump right out of your shoes. Having been so deep in thought you didn't realize you'd been staring off into space, and during that time they'd actually left the training room. You quickly stand up a bit straighter, brush the front of your top, before smiling and waving their way. They didn't even know you were watching until just now, judging by their noticeable surprise.

"Fancy seeing you here!" Wrecker his adjusting the armor plate that wraps around his bicep, while your neck sinks into your shoulders for a moment as you shrug.

"I saw some non-regulation armor down there, and decided to watch for a bit."

You aren't lying, but it isn't to say you're being perfectly truthful either. You had only meant to watch for a moment, but found yourself being so distracted and before you knew it, they were finished.

"Hope you were impressed." Crosshair is adjusting the scope of his rifle and not even looking your way when he speaks. There's a particular bolt in the wall that looks really interesting, and you keep glancing at it while trying to swallow this gigantic knot stuck in your throat.

"Always am. You're the best in the business for a reason." Taking a moment to look away at that fascinating piece of the wall your eyes move towards Hunter, who clearly isn't paying much attention to your attempt at a conversation.

His eyes are glancing you up and down, and there's a tenseness to his face that doesn't make any sense. You haven't said anything particularly odd, until you realize:

Oh fuck, right; He can hear your heartbeat.

It must be absolutely hammering in his ears right now, a thump thump thump that sounds like it's going to burst right out of your ribcage.

"You guys go, I'll catch up."

Hunter gives a nonchalant wave of his hand, staying with you as they return to what you would assume will be their barracks for some downtime. After they turn down the hall and the both of your are well out of view he takes a few steps closer, but still maintaining a good buffer of air between the two of you given your location. The look in his eyes is darker than usual and makes you struggle not to smile like someone caught red-handed.

"You know I can hear you and smell you, right?" Busted.

A group of troopers walks by down the hall and you take one step back, watching them pass by before you step back closer to him. Now more than any time yet, you wish you were back on Coruscant. You're stationed on Kamino for the time being while in-between missions, and now you're one of the only nat-borns here. It's not like you can just take him back home to your apartment, given it's lightyears away. A shame.

"If I knew you watching me practice would make you drenched like this, I'd have invited you to watch earlier." He makes a gesture with a jerk of his head.

"Follow me."

You have a pretty good feeling where he's going to take you, and quite quickly you turn out to be right; As the door to the 99's barracks is plain in sight. You would've assumed that the rest of the Batch had gone back here, but when he uses the code to open the door and the room turns out empty, it seems they must've returned to the Marauder instead.

The moment you hear the metal of the door hit shut Hunter is on you, his lips on yours and hands on your waist. it's so intense and fast; He must've been holding it in ever since he picked up how much you wanted him to fuck you back in the hall. You can feel him pushing you in the direction of his bunk, confirmed by when the back of your calves hit the cold metal. In response you automatically move to sit, and Hunter follows you his hands pressing down into the mattress on either side of your thighs. He leans over you, pushing your body ever so slightly over you and continues to deepen your kiss; Feeling his tongue brush across your lip. You can't help but moan in his mouth, before he suddenly pulls it away with a soft wet pop.

His hands move off of the stiff mattress that serves as his bed and starts playing with the bottom of your top, pushing it up just enough to expose a bit of skin before you speak up.

"Hunter! There's troopers right on the other side-"

You can quite clearly hear what they're talking about, which doesn't bode well. It means that more than likely, they can just as easily hear you.

"Just have to be silent then." Hunter's first statement is stoic, but when he looks down at you, there's a bit of mirth in his eyes. "I'm sure you can do that." Normally Hunter is the one who has trouble staying quiet, given his senses have a tendency to overwhelm him. Not as if you mind, but it's a bit inconvenient in situations like this; Where you could easily get caught doing something that in Hunter's case, could end up getting him in a lot of trouble.

But when he kneels in front of you and begins reaching for the waistband of your pants, you quietly begin to realize why he specified just you, and blood begins rushing upward heating your neck and cheeks.

He helps you and assists with taking your trousers off, pulling them down until they hang over just one ankle. In doing so he catches one glimpse of your pussy between your thighs, before your legs rest against the bunk again.

You feel his hot breath brush across your thighs once they're open, the rough texture of his stubble scratching your skin. He grasps your hips and pulls you just a bit closer to the edge of the bunk, giving himself easier access as he spreads your thighs even farther apart. You instinctively attempt to close them, but his strong grip keeps them firmly in place.

"This scent never won't drive me fucking insane," Surely his heightened senses come with their share of downsides, but they aren't always in the way you would traditionally expect. Drifting up your thigh soon his lips brush against your outer folds, teasing you with his touch as your cunt clenches around nothing in the anticipation.

"Hunter..." You mumble in threat, but perhaps it's louder than you think with your blood pumping in your ears, as he shushes you.

"Quiet, beautiful. I don't wanna stop right yet." You know being in here doing this is playing with fire, so you purse your lips and your head lolls back. Your hands press into the mattress behind your hips trying to support yourself as Hunter's tongue traces along your pussy lips, teasing you even more so by giving one the softest little bite he can muster.

It's all so infuriating, so when he finally dives his tongue between your folds and his face presses even harder against you, it's impossible not to let out an overwhelmed gasp. He seems to know almost every single way to make your body shake, the blunted nails of his fingertips digging into your thighs. It's almost like he's drunk off of it, and maybe in a way he is, as you can barely see his face thanks to his mop of hair and how much he has his face dug between your legs. You can hear him moan against you, deep in his throat as his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

"Gods, Hunter- you're going to kill me-"

Pulling away for a moment and hearing the way his mouth makes a soft pop, he takes a quick breath before he quickly goes back for more; Lapping up the juices dripping from you as he moves to tease your clit. You purse your lips tight the moment those words leave your lips, trying to calm the racing of your heart just a bit more.

The bridge of his nose presses against you, as his tongue presses against you. Your hand grabs a fistful of his hair, fingertips brushing against the fabric of his bandana. It doesn't untie itself, but it's already shifting awkwardly on his head.

"Ah- Fuck!-" You gasp and instantly clap a hand over your mouth, realizing how incredibly loud that just was. Hunter jolted at it as well, both frozen as you listen to see if anyone heard it.

Thankfully, that doesn't seem to be the case. Though Hunter isn't going to take the risk again.

"If you can't manage be quiet, here-"

Hunter unties the bandana around his head, before suddenly reaching forward to tie it around your face like a makeshift gag. It's enough to significantly muffle any noise that comes from your throat, as your teeth sink right into it.

His head soon returns to between your legs, diving right into your cunt again. between his tongue circling your clit and the rough stubble of his chin scratching your skin, one of his hands comes up after he pulled his glove off out of view, gently toying with your entrance before slipping two fingers inside of you.

You have zero hope of stopping the way his fingers pull every single lewd noise imaginable, slopping wet as they curl inside of you. Every single thing you want to say goes flying through your mind, as even if you could say it, it would only end up by the worn piece of red fabric tied tight against your mouth. Meanwhile Hunter thrusts his fingers into you at a brutal pace, intent to make you cum against his face and giving no mercy.

It feels like your stomach is tightly wound twisting in knots, ankles crossing behind Hunter's head. He has your legs thrown over his shoulders, tugging you even closer to him and balancing you precariously on the edge of the bunk. It wasn't as if it was a large sleeping area to begin with, however.

You just need that little bit more, hand unconsciously tightening and pulling on Hunter's hair. He groans at the feeling, enjoying it as your hips press upwards towards his face. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand clamping over your mouth to avoid moaning out into the room.

He can feel you cum against his mouth, the soft velvet of your cunt tightening around his fingers. Your heart is absolutely pounding in his ears, racing like a speeder engine as your breaths are short, cut off pants. He takes a secret amount of joy in unraveling you like this, in such a short amount of time.

You now sit limp on the edge of his bunk, legs heavy and head still lolled back slightly. Hunter pulls his face away from your sloppy cunt, and you can see the slickness of the lower half of his face making it obvious what type of meal he enjoyed.

Gently reaching one of his hands under your knee he pulls your leg off of his shoulder, before he does the same to the other. He reaches forwards and unties the bandana from behind your head before tucking it into one of his pouches; It's wet with spit, he'll get one of his others for the time being. He has multiple spares hidden away, from whenever they get too dirty, or ruined from being singed or torn.

With the back of his un-gloved hand, he attempts to wipe away some your wetness that stains his face. He's going to be able to smell you on his face for hours now, no matter how many times he washes. In one way heaven for him, and in another way hell. A reminder, either way.

It's not as if he didn't enjoy himself, as he tugs the small exposed part of his body glove between his groinplate and thighplate to adjust himself.

He gets off of kneeling on the floor, and instead rests a knee on the edge of the bunk, watching you adjust your hair and your top that is a wrinkled, bunched mess. When he speaks he watches you look up at him dazed and flush faced, eyes still hooded and lips ever so slightly parted. Your heartbeat is still so loud in his ears, but he can listen to it slowly fade away to a more relaxed pace.

"We have live combat training tomorrow as well," He says so out of the blue, until you suddenly realize why he mentioned it, and purse your lips.

"Consider me there."

[mischasbongwater]

farkas x reader

warning: intense sex, vaguely fem-bodied reader but only if you squint

authors note: this is most certainly not my best work, just practice if anything but im still glad i finished it (emphasis on finished) and i wanted to share it and this felt like a good place to do it

(also for context this takes place after his transformation in the crypt that first time)

You slip into Farkas’s room as quickly and quietly as you can, out of worry that one of the other Companions might get suspicious. You carefully close the door, turn around—

—And Farkas is standing at the foot of his bed, in nothing but a loincloth.

“OH!” You yelp, throwing your hands up in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, open your eyes. I don’t care.”

You falter. “Wh- seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Slowly, you lower your hands and look at him. He’s sat down on his bed now, arms folded. Somehow he still looks just as big and intimidating as when he’s wearing armor. You can so clearly see his muscles rippling beneath his olive skin, but you try not to look anywhere other than his face — or arms.

You catch the inquisitive look on his face and snap yourself back to reality. “So,” you begin. “Werewolf.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is a gift given only to those in the Circle. Should you want to share the beastblood, you’ll have to prove your honor.”

“Right.” You cannot stop looking at him.

“Truth be told, if you want a more technical history, you should talk to Kodlak or Vilkas. I don’t usually put much thought into it beyond the gift itself. But- are you okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You smell different.” He stands up.

“That- is so weird,” you respond, momentarily distracted by bewilderment. “What do I smell like?”

“Normally? Just you. But now…” He steps closer until he’s barely a foot away from you. It feels like his bare chest is looking you straight in the eyes. “It’s different. Stronger. Sweeter.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, feeling something you’ve never quite felt before. Dread and thrill both building up in your stomach, like white-hot balls of metal expanding through your abdomen. Sharp bursts of adrenaline spiking through your body.

“Are you interested in me, new blood?” His deep, gritty voice had a strange new cadence to it, like warm honey pouring into your ears.

You inhale shakily. “I- don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Can I answer it for you?”

You don’t even know if the word “yes” had left your mouth yet before you were in Farkas’s grasp. One hand is gently gripping the back of your neck, and the other is caressing the top of your head, weaving fingers through your hair. His rough, salty lips are pressed against yours, hard. You reach out and place your hands on his hips, closing the gap between you. He quivers under your touch, then melts into it, grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

After a few heated moments, he pulls back, much to your disappointment.

“Do you want this?” He asks, his voice sounding much darker now.

You look at him, confused. “Wh-“

“The beast-spirit inside of me. He wants you. Bad.” He fidgets with his hands, showing the first glimpse of true uncertainty and nervousness you’ve ever seen from him. “I don’t know if I can keep being gentle like this. I don’t want to-”

“Farkas.” You take his hands. “I don’t care. I’m yours.”

A lustful spark appears in his eyes. He grabs you by your waist, picks you up with ease, and pins you to his bed, desperately grabbing at your clothes and trying to pull them off.

He seems as stocky and strong as a tree trunk, every part of him laying over you like this. He reaches down and pulls his loincloth off, then lowers himself down, almost completely immobilizing you.

His hands wander up to your face, lazily at first, then grabbing you roughly and once more pushing his lips against yours. His hips begin to thrust slowly against yours, and you feel his hardening cock sliding up and down against your stomach.

“Mmm… you smell so good.” His hands travel across your body, greedily touching every part he can reach. Your own hand begins to drift downward, but he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head.

“You had your chance to lead,” he growls. “It’s my turn now.” He pins up your other hand and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting, forcing high, breathy moans out of your mouth. His movement slowly grows more desperate, and you feel the same.

“Farkas…” you say pleadingly. He lets out a deep purr and snaps his hips against you in approval. He raises his head above yours. You stare into his eyes, and he stares back, perfectly mirroring the burning passion you feel. His soft raven hair hangs down perfectly around his broad, rugged face. He leans down and whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin and sending tingles down your back. “I’m going to make you mine.”

Without any more warning than that, he grabs your hips so hard you think he might leave handprints, and he pushes his tip inside of you. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands shooting up and grabbing onto his biceps for dear life.

He begins to push further into you, his thick shaft throbbing and stretching you out. The pain felt so good. A keening moan escapes from your mouth. Farkas closes his eyes, and you can see the muscles feathering along his tightly-clenched jaw as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

“Farkas,” you breathe out. “Farkas-” you yelp as he forcefully thrusts his full length into you. “Y-you’re so big…” you manage to stammer out. “Fu-uuck. Please, Farkas.”

He opens his eyes and smirks. He smirks at you.

“Please what, darling?”

“Fuck me,” you heave desperately, your nails digging into his skin. “Fuck me, Farkas, please, I-”

You’re cut off by his strong, meaty hand pressing over your mouth, covering half your face. He gives a firm but gentle squeeze. “Sshhh, shh-shh.” He purrs. “Can’t have you waking up the others.” He starts slowly thrusting again. “Or is that what you want? Does the new blood want all of Jorrvaskr to hear them whining like a dog?”

You can do nothing but squeeze your eyes shut, your whole body pulsating with the feeling of him inside of you. That white-hot feeling is back, even more intensely now, like a sun planted in your stomach.

“That’s right,” he groans, starting to speed up. “Good.” He squeezes your face tighter, his eyes closing again and his head tilting back in pleasure. His movements grow almost animalistic, shoving himself further and further inside of you over and over. Your body tenses up, vibrating with heat and ecstasy, his cock filling you up so deep you think you might pass out. Your moans are uncontrollable and muffled by his hand, while your own are nearly drawing blood from their death grip on his arms. He keeps pounding into you, grunting and moaning huskily, holding you solidly in place. Your hips snap back up in rhythm with his, your body twitching from the pleasure and strain. If not for him muzzling you, you would be crying out, screaming his name, moaning and keening in primal euphoria.

The ball in your stomach expands like molten metal, spreading through your body until it feels as if Farkas has filled every last inch of you. It builds and builds and builds-

Until he stops, hilt-deep inside of you. You squirm and cry out, frantic with lust and just on the edge of overstimulation from his huge cock. He hums smugly at your struggle, his face inches away from yours. “Look at you. Such a desperate little thing. You like being used like this?”

You nod, aggressively and pathetically. Farkas chuckles, and the deep, raspy sound of his subtle laughter is almost enough to send you over the edge right there. He shifts, taking his other hand and grasping both sides of your face, pushing his thumbs into your mouth.

“Stay quiet,” he growls, before continuing his merciless thrusts at the same pace he left off at. Without even meaning to, you clamp down on his thumbs between your teeth, letting out a flood of sharp, cut-off moans as he fucks you with reckless abandon. You almost can’t stand the speed and girth hammering into you, sending you into a state of complete, mindless hunger.

Through your feral haze, you see his bottom lip caught under his teeth, his eyes tightly closed, and his eyebrows knitted together. Then his mouth hangs open, and a small whimper escapes into the air.

The molten ball inside of you explodes, coating his length and squirting onto his thighs and stomach. You lay completely silent, convulsing and arching beneath him, consumed with bliss. You scratch helplessly at his shoulders, wordlessly begging, and Farkas complies, thrusting more sensually yet somehow rougher into you now. He covers your mouth again, and you allow the torrent of wild moans to erupt from within you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, every vein and ridge on his cock hitting you in all the right places.

Just when you think you might finally go unconscious, he pulls out and a thick ribbon of cum streams out onto your stomach. He looks to be reared back like a horse, holding tight onto your hips to keep from falling, head swung back as he shudders through his own orgasm.

Panting, he collapses onto you, practically forcing the air out of your lungs with his weight. You wrestle your arms out from under him and wrap them around his torso — or at least, as far around as they can reach.

“Fuck,” Farkas whispers hoarsely, enveloping you in his arms now and turning you both to your sides. You make a noise of agreement muffled by his chest.

“Are- are you gonna stay here?” He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. You make another noise, this one of more serene agreement. He exhales deeply and goes limp, pulling you closer to him. You were both far too hot and sweaty for his blankets, but not for your own skin against the other’s. Filled with contentment and… other stuff… you relish in his scent and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. You catch a glimpse of the moon from outside his window.

Who cares if he’s a werewolf, you think to yourself. Nothing could make me rethink this.