#does crave burner work? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 1 year ago

Text

so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon riley #dark!simon

2K notes · View notes

reverie-verse · 16 days ago

Text

Anakin Skywalker x Reader: Forbidden Attachments PT 1..

Prompt: A time between the Clone Wars on the verge of beginning and then end of Padawan ages. Y/N is in love with Anakin, but his heart seems to belong to someone else. Senator Padme. One thing a Jedi cannot do, is the one thing that sets her free…Her life takes a turn resulting in her starting over, finding a new life on a different planet. Only a few years later does an unexpected visit rehash old feelings.

*Glimpses of Obi Wan, Ahsoka, Rex.

A/N: I had an anon reach out an ask for a part 2, then I read this one so I could get in the mood lmaooo. THEN I realized I NEEDED to rewrite part 1 again.....soooo I did! Ummm please enjoy!

Part 2 is ON THE WAY!!!!🫶🏽

My REQUESTS are OPEN!!!! 😌

———————————————————-

The day you left the order was the hardest decision you’ve ever made. It wasn’t because of false accusations or because you believed that the sith could help you achieve goals the Jedi couldn’t. No it was one specific rule, one specific code. Attachments are Forbidden. Love was forbidden and you were in love with Anakin, your best friend. It wasn't his fault, you couldn’t blame him for being himself. You couldn’t exactly blame the code either, it was a rule you needed to abide by. However, it hadn’t stopped the pain that coursed through your body, your heart, and your mind. You knew the reality of the situation, you knew there wasn’t an easy way to go about this, to work through this. The love that you craved was immense, you felt drawn to him, yet you knew the truth, he could never care for you the way you hoped.

But that was a lie.

He could care in the way you yearned for, only it wasn’t you he wanted. The memory was fresh, as if it had happened yesterday, how could you forget? You were beginning your rounds of patrol, it was your turn that night. Obi Wan usually took the first shift leaving room for him to meditate when he can. Anakin took the second shift to avoid ruining his sleeping schedule, to soak in the last remaining source of the sun. You took the last shift because you had always taken the shifts or the jobs nobody wanted. You hadn’t minded, you enjoyed the peace and the quiet that came with it.

Only it was that night that you had regretted it. Per usual you had wandered down the halls, your gaze landing on every corner, crevice, window, walls, doors, rooms. You had continuously minding your thoughts to yourself, even then as you walked, you couldn’t help it. Work seemed to find itself placed on the back burner as you drifted in and out of wants and desires. You reprimanded yourself repeatedly as you tried to embed the code as far deep into your soul as possible…But it all came to an end. You had reached her corridor, looking further into the hall even within the dim lighting, it was as clear as day. Your heart shattered.

It’s pathetic how well you remembered the way Padme grasped Anakin’s arm. The way she pulled him into her room, so late into the evening as it neared the middle of the night. The way he looked at her, his eyes wandering her features, he took her in as though she were the only woman in the galaxy. Her lashes flutter as her gaze locks onto his, her smile sweet, warm, and welcoming. It was an open invitation, as she guided him into the heated space of her bedroom. He followed her with such ease, he practically melted in front of her, his thoughts no longer his own echoing into an abyss that was only heard by you.

Your mind and body are no longer connected, your feet moving backward, retracing your steps. They guided you towards your bedroom, forgetting the fact that you still had hours left of your duty. Your mind and your heart collided for the second time, only it wasn’t pleasant as it once was, time it was painful. The yearning, the wanting, the day dreaming the milliseconds of when you touched or when you locked eyes or when you spoke truths to each other-it had all but ceased. It crumbled apart right before your eyes. You felt betrayed, you felt envious, you felt delusional, you felt wrong, you felt guilty. But you were thankful, you were thankful he hadn’t noticed you were thankful that you could escape knowing now that he would never love you the way he had Padme.

This was your time. It was selfish you know, and you realized that your life’s work depended on this decision. You were selfish with it all, the Jedi were never meant to be that way. They were meant to be selfless and giving, protectors, you were none of those things, at least not in the eyes of the Jedi. You had devoted all your life to the cause of the war, the battles that you won, the battles that you’ve lost, the lives that you’ve saved and the lives you lost all for what? You were tormented in every aspect of your life and this was the final straw. You have given all of it up, it was pathetic, and it was stupid indeed, but deep down you had already craved a simple life. So you made the decision to leave and there was no one to stop you. The moment opportune.

You had a plan, you knew the routine schedule of the Nabooian security forces. You knew where your beloved Master and friend.. would be, it was just too easy. You had known that taking your own ship, or a Nabooian ship would alert everyone of your disappearance. It was easier to slip out taking one of the speeders you found as you travel by foot for the first few miles. From there it was a cake walk allowing you to take off without so much of a trace. It was a success, to say the least, by now it would be too late. Dawn was nearing, you had already passed the inner city, the port and onto the cargo ship. With your bag slung over your shoulder as you walk along the corridor, the vessel makes its great escape as it exits the atmosphere.

You knew that you wouldn’t be returning to Coruscant, you knew how devastated Anakin would be. As any concerned friend would be… Obi Wan would be there to deliver the loss, while Padme would take the chance to ease his pain in every way possible. You couldn’t stay in Naboo or to return home to the Jedi temple on Coruscant. You couldn’t bear the pain that came from watching someone else fall in love with someone else that wasn’t you. Nor could you ignore the feelings that bubbled beneath your skin, the life of Jedi was taking its toll and for once this decision hadn’t felt wrong. You felt a slight relief, this was a good thing, you were going to start a new life, one that you craved. You were going to be free of all the madness in your life…

It had been close to two years now, you had found yourself a home on Aurea, in the city of Shakamm Crater. A vast planet filled with forests, oceans, sands, a tropical climate, a beautiful home, it was better than all the metal structures you were used to. The planet itself practically ran on so many various forms of trades, and skills, artisans of all kinds. It was easy to find a low maintenance job, one that allowed you to keep a low profile and keep an eye on potential exposing threats. You were lucky in the fact that there were millions of people that resided here. That alone brought comfort to you with an extra padding of protection. You knew that the Jedi would never check the core worlds, only the outer rim held their focus.

It had reached nightfall by now, you had gotten home maybe an hour or two ago, a small humble abode in the middle of an open field nearest the ocean and forest. You sought out a home that allowed you to live at the edge of the city, the area brought a deep comfort reminding you of some of the gardens you once walked through at the temple. Your home was open, your floor plan wide, everything within sight, except of course your bedroom and bathroom. It was exactly the space you needed and nothing more and nothing less. A breeze had swept past the cotton material of your curtain. You had wandered over to it, wrapping the cloth together and pinning it to the side. A late night indeed. The breeze was cooler in the middle of the night, the stars amongst the galaxy calling to you. You take a seat near the windowsill, your chin tucked into your hand. Your hair wet from the previous shower you had taken, your large tunic and shorts, loose against your body. The moons at its highest peak, a steady stream of light pouring in. You take a moment shutting your eyes, as you battle the memories of your past that threaten to consume you.

———-

A specific image of you sitting in a home, you in your natural state, your hair in its unruliness, a sight he hasn’t seen in a few years…This version of you was placed near a window overlooking a view, one that he couldn’t see. One that the force wouldn’t allow him to see. Oh how you haunted him in every aspect of his waking life, odd moments, during meditations, and even in his slumber. When he was the most relaxed he received these visions. What had he expected carrying your trophies around as if they were a part of him. He places a hand on his forehead, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes, he shuts them for just a brief moment or two to relieve the pain but nothing comes of it.

Rex, his loyal captain, his friend, turned to look at his General “Sir are you alright?” Anakin knew the reason he was asking, the two in the past have shared their horrific memories, bonding in a way that allows him to feel safe with trust. The many sleepless nights, the days spent in triggering environments, forcing old and new memories to collide..

“Yeah I’m just fine Rex” He grumbled, not in the mood to respond to his question in further detail. This was exhausting him, driving him into a silent madness. He knew Rex knew better than to push the situation, so he hadn’t. For that Anakin was grateful for, at this time he had no energy left to give. Anakin wasn’t sure why it was like this, this…recurrence of you. You were everywhere and in everything. His mind was tormented and not a single person could help him ease his pain. Not his padawan, his old Master, not even Padme.

“Master I can’t keep fixing this power core, I need a new one and the fuel tank is running low-” Ahsoka shouts from the back of the ship, Anakin heaved a sigh as she drags herself back into the cockpit. Ahsoka, with each passing day was beginning to remind Anakin of himself. Her attitude, her knowledge that she gained, her skills growing, Rex refrains from chuckling as Ahsoka stops in her tracks “-Where are we?”

Obi Wan only shakes his eye as his locks onto a set of coordinates before looking out towards the massive planet. “I believe we’re headed for Planet Aurea, I hear Shakamm Crater has a docking station. Fuel and maintenance might be a bargain.” Obi Wan says as he checks the scanners. There were two engine malfunctions and the fuel tank ran dangerously low.

“Great, let's hope the repair won’t cost a fortune.” Anakin replies as he pressed a few control keys before pulling back on the yoke, he nods his head towards Rex. With extra support Rex began to slow down the ship as it passed through its orbit and through its atmosphere. The sun’s burning glow hit the planet signaling that it was daylight.

“There’s the station” Ahsoka points out as Anakin helps Rex fly the ship closer, landing it on a dock. The group opens up the hatch as they exit the craft taking in the scenery before them. There lay an assortment of ships, workers, and droids. Sparks floated about the air as equipment mold, cut seal and from pieces of metal. In all directions various sounds filled the station, rumblings of engines, motors, workers, customers and droids shouting amongst each other. It was easy to get side tracked if no one knew where to look or what to do. Ahsoka and Rex were slightly captivated by this environment, there was an energy about it, the openness, the invitation of it all.

Obi Wan and Anakin had a set routine, and while Ahsoka may be learning, it came with instinct the way the two immediately went searching for a mechanic. Time was of the essence and with a quickness, Anakin and Obi Wan spotted a mechanic, who happened to have been wiping the grease from his hands and fingers, and exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“We need fuel, a new power core and a new engine, oh and our left wing needs some attention. We need it done by tomorrow. ” Anakin states as he crosses his arms, Obi Wan already in the same stance.

The worker glares at him, frustration clearly evident. “Tomorrow? I at least need a few days to get the parts- What’d you do? Fight some pirates or something”

“Now why would we tell you that?” Anakin’s voice clips. Obi Wan takes notice choosing to remain silent until he feels he needs to step in…which he could only assume won’t be long.

“Look, you won’t find a better worker than me around here-” The worker taking a step forward causing Anakin to raise a slight eyebrow.

“Never mind that, We will pay you handsomely to fix it in a few days” Obi Wan offers as he takes a step forward between them.

The worker shifts his angered gaze from Anakin’s and towards Obi Wans. “ What’d you have in mind?” Obi Wan slips to the side pulling the attention of the worker allowing them to separate from his padawan. Anakin rolls his eyes keeping his shoulders square, arms tightly crossed as he scanned the area. The smell of burning metal brought a comfort to him, a warm comfort at that. For a moment it allowed him to relax, to find peace, it was only then did he realize what he’d done. A tug pulls at his chest, a familiar one at that. The bond that Anakin had with the force was immense and strong. His intuition, his instincts were usually never wrong.

He takes this as a cue, one from the force that suggested he dive deeper. Again a harsher pull, that caused his heart to leap, his eyes searching, as his feet began to guide him. For a brief second his heart stopped, as the pull so great caused him to freeze. There it was, that essence, it drew him in further, his head shifted slightly to the side. It was right there, the thing that called to him through the force if only he could just-His eyes follow an invisible line over his shoulder, time seemed to have ceased in its very existence. His chest tightens, his breath trapped within his throat, there a sight for sore eyes, was you, the very person he dreamt of.

There you were burning brighter than a thousand suns, your skin glowing. You swiped the back of your hand onto your forehead, pushing at the loose hair to the sides and out of your eyes. The grease on your hands smeared a tiny bit into your forehead. You had worn a uniform jumpsuit that the sleeves were tied around your waist, exposing your short sleeve shirt. More grease and dirt stained the skin of your arms and neck. You were captivating, breathtaking, Anakin was sure he was forgetting to breathe.

You were in a position of concentration, you had been sitting criss crossed on the nose of a ship. You had been working on the droid that had been trapped in its place. It beeped at you causing you to shake your head allowing you to loosen it up just a tad. You were only a mere few paces away and yet he could see you clear as day. Anakin hadn’t missed the way your smile had broken its seriousness. A coworker of yours had wandered over to you, saying something that naturally let your beautiful laughter escape. You had quickly turned your attention allowing the small robotic creature to jump out of its pocket landing next to its owner. Your friend who shouts something at you causing you to wave them off.

They cackled loudly and waited till you hopped down from the nose of the ship. You smiled and spoke, shaking your head. You reached into your backpack that you had now slung over your shoulder, you pulled out something small. He wasn’t able to make out what it was but by the looks of it your friend was happy. The two of you waving goodbye to one another only to catch the eyes of Anakin in the process. The force had a funny way of bringing the ones you know and love back into your life. It was then you froze, your heart thumped with everything it had. Your chest squeezing, the air from your lungs evaporating. It felt as though no time had passed, the way you two connected, a strong cord securing its hold, it pulled you both in. For a moment you remember it all, the love, the pain, the comfort, anger, the happiness, every bit of emotion there was to feel.. all brought up from the past..

You didn’t want to admit that after all this time you still loved him. That he still looked as handsome as the day you first met. He no longer had a padawan braid signifying that he passed the trials. Both hands were protected by gloves, only one was more textured than the other. His hair grew a few inches longer than the last time you saw him. A scar cutting through the top of his eyebrow and down to his cheek, his piercing blue eyes, locked with yours. You’d heard stories about him, most of which were his heroic deeds, his cunningness and his ability to chaotically strategize. A poster boy for the republic for the Jedi. Then there were other stories that suggested a dark version of him, one only smugglers and bounty hunters speak of. His reputation preceded him, in more ways than one.

Anakin held an intensity about him, always falling into depth, on each end of the scale never in between. To match his intensity a boyish nature flickers behind his eyes. A way to keep relief from all the chaos and suffering of the war. Still even now he found ways to peer into your soul to keep you trapped beneath his gaze. A trace so heavily captivating it was hard to break-but you had too. With two blinks, you took a step back, your thoughts finally catching up to your body. There was a decent amount of space between you, even then your mind began to calculate its time and an exit plan. He may have a hold over you but, maker forbid, that he brings you back to the Jedi. You weren’t going to risk it, not this time. No matter how deep your bond ran, or how much you used to love him.

Obi Wan comes into view, placing a hand on his shoulder. Two more people who you had not recognized joined him on the opposite side. It had taken you mere seconds to recognize that young togurta is a force wielder. You didn't need to look for the lightsabers. The man behind her was a clone easily distinguished by the many rogue clones you had encountered along the way. Obi mouths your name in question, the young padawans gaze follows theirs towards your direction, realization flashes across her features. Reality bends back into its original form, the opportunity arises as you break out into a run. Anakin took his only chance to go after you, he shouts at Obi Wan to stay with the ship, Ahsoka and Rex both protesting, wanting to follow him. However, Obi Wan knew better than to interfere.

You’re faster than Anakin remembered, usually he’d out run you but this time you were out running him. Somewhere in the space between the crowd and the exit, he shouts your name, calling for you. You ignored him against every fiber of your being. Your feet carried you through the sea of people, your body slamming into every other person you came across. You hadn’t even had the chance to mutter an apology. You had created a pattern, one that you ingrained into your mind for a day like this. You zig zagged through the crowd creating confusion as you ran for the threshold. You reached the edge of door heading for the platform. You see your speeder in sight tossing your bag in the passenger as you threw yourself into the front seat. Your hands worked quickly struggling to get the speeder started.

Your eyes flickering up briefly to notice Anakin had come to a slow jog outside of the station. You curse under your breath as you tried the system again it created an unsettling sound fear building up in your chest. “C’mon c’mon c’mon” you groaned as you kept trying. Anakin catches your eyes, his feet carrying him towards you, a roar of the speeder signaling that its alive. You had no room for hesitation, your foot slamming down kicking the vehicle into gear. Anakin swears as his eyes scan the area for a speeder to hijack. What could only be described as force luck, he finds one, quickly igniting it, placing it into gear as he chases after. He’ll be damned if he lets you get away one more time. Hes relentless, at the upmost level, he’s refusal significantly stronger. He will not let you get away, that’s not an option. He’s relentless, his refusal at a it’s maximum level. He just needed to see you, to grab a hold of you and throttle you for leaving him when you did. To wrap his arms around you to tell you that he missed you. You weren’t getting away this time.

———

As you reached your home you clumsily parked the speeder, the plants and grass swayed with the motion of the wind. You rushed into your home, heading for your room. Underneath the floor boards you buried an emergency bag. You knew a day like this would come, the Jedi would be searching for you. They’d sent three Jedi and a clone to prove that to you, and they weren’t just any Jedi. Maker only knows of their plans, what they might do to you. Force you to stand trial as a criminal, give you a life sentence for crimes that you’d never committed? Or would they exile you as if you hadn’t already done that yourself? What brand had they placed onto your name? Foolish thoughts but the possibilities could easily become your reality. You knew the Jedi were capable of anything as long as they felt it benefited a cause. All you knew was that you weren’t willing to go back.

Your heart completely shattered, its pieces broken, the one that were already mended, destroyed. You loved the home you built yourself, you loved the people you’ve worked with and come to know. They had became your friends welcoming you into their families. This planet was your home. For it to be stripped from you angered you, it upset you. The life you’ve always wanted was taken away from you. You’d assumed it was because of your selfishness of leaving those in need was the cause of this moment. You blamed yourself but you didn’t have the time to cry. Your feet moved before your mind did, slugging the bag over your shoulder you didn’t have the time to take a glance around to say goodbye. You were already out of the door, running towards your speeder getting ready to throw your bag back into only to stop in your tracks.

Your were stuck halfway between your door and speeder, Anakin blocking your path. The dirt and gravel shifting underneath your boots. Your legs threaten to break out into another run, Anakin tilts his head slightly. He was ready for the chase, and he’d do anything to stop, you both knew that much. Neither one of you chose to speak opting for silence your eyes locked onto one another. Anakin’s jaw tense and set, his brows knitted together. He knows what he should feel what he did feel, shock, happiness, relief, comfort, but it all vanished when you decided to run, again. Now he only felt hurt and anger, confusion, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the answers he deserves.

You knew Anakin wasn’t going to let you leave, with his body in the way, of your speeder, trying to match him in combat seemed like a good idea…Only you knew how dangerous it could get, how his emotions controlled his every step, his every action-not the Jedi way. You were no Jedi. Anakin lifted his chin up, as if to dare you to make the move. A challenge, one he used to do when the two of you sparred as Padawans. The twinkle behind his eyes, even in his seriousness, a playfulness dances there. A familiar game with a familiar ending. You were smart enough to know to leave as much space as possible. Anakin fought the urge to smirk, he had you exactly where he wanted, and he knew you knew that. Time ceased to exist, the two of you knowing each other like the back of your hands.

Your chest heaving as you threw your bag down onto the ground. Fine. He wasn’t going down without a fight neither were you. You sure as hell weren’t going to make this arrest very easy for him either. You quickly side stepped to the opposite side of your bag as if you were going to run. The faux step caused Anakin to stumble as he lunged for you. You dodged to the side running to grab your bag heading for your speeder. Anakin lifts his hand force pushing to the side away from your speeder and into the grass for a soft landing. You groaned in frustration. Anakin’s heavy boots charging for you. You push yourself up barely the ground sticking your leg sweeping his out from under him. It almost made you giggle how well you could still trick him. Only in this situation it wasn’t as humorous.

Anakin was quick to recover you barely noticing as his arms looped around your body. His faced tucked into the crook of your neck, one arm securely across your chest gripping your shoulders with one hand tucked to your chin. The other tightly wrapped around your midsection securing your other arm in place. Your body almost immediately melting into his hold, tears forming at the brims of your eyes. The comfort of him overwhelming you, a move he used to use on you to disarm you. You were always prepared for it but this time-it was difficult. A straggled scream into groan hiss out of your clenched teeth.

“Y/N?” He whispers, his lips gently brushing against your skin, goosebumps rise as his breath caresses it.

You shook your head “No..” the tears threatening to spill, both of your chests rising and falling heavily. All this running, it was exhausting, and the pain that course through you both. Somehow the force connected you both, the way you formed together, molded each other as if you were made-No-you couldn’t think this way-You stepped on his foot, forcing him to release some of his hold, you slipped your wrist out of his hold on your midsection, you twisted sideways placing your hand on his abdomin force pushing him away from you. Anakin flew back landing back into the ground. Your feet running you in the direction of the speeder.

From the time you got to the speeder, and by the time Anakin and caught up to you, he yells loud enough to have you stop in your tracks. “DONT YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING INTO THAT SPEEDER!”

“Or what? Huh? You plan on having Obi Wan and his padawan come after me? Have the clone take me out with stun gun? I WONT GO BACK!” You argued turning on your heel, you could see the fury that burned with him as his heavy boot marched towards you.

“You left the temple all on your own! Why?” He asks no trace of malice, only anger and pain.. Deep down Anakin knew why he asked you this question, one of which he needed to know why you’d left him there alone on Naboo, to return to the trials without you by his side. Two why had you chosen to run at the sight of his presence? What had he done to make you hate him so much?

Fear etched its way through your veins, was this all part of his plan? To get you to confess all your sins, the reason you believed were more than enough to vanish from the jedis teachings. Was this his ploy to have you weak and broken to take you back to the Jedi temple, to have you stand trial exposed and then imprisoned, or be exiled, to waste away alone.. “I won’t play into your games, Anakin. There’s nothing to say!” You retorted, your own eyebrows scrunching together in anger, though a sorrow hides in the depths of your eyes.

“The Jedi was once your home, your people! Obi Wan and I were your family! You abandoned them, you abandoned us, you adandoned me!” You could see his hurt behind his eyes, the way they threatened to tear. You could see how much your absence has affected him, tormented him. It was never your intention but even now you vowed to keep him at arms length even if that meant the ones you called family take you back to prison you escaped from.

“It was once my home..I did care for all of you-some more than others..but I was never a Jedi.” Your voice carried as it shifted from loud to a softened tone. Hidden within a meaning that Anakin recognized. To feel displaced in your own home, in your own way of living was exhausting, for some they find a peace within.

“We talked for hours about what our lives would look like. The ways of the force, the Jedi the knights we wished to become, the masters we were encouraged to embody! We were supposed to do this together!” You'd known that the Jedi was never going to be more than what it was. Anakin still had hope, how that it would change, hope that he’d gain all the knowledge and power in the galaxy.

“It was nothing but false pretenses, false dreams that weren’t meant to come true, Anakin” The way you had said his name, made his heart lurch forward. Even with all this anger the need for you to say it again at an all time high. You had managed to convince yourself of the insignificance of the dreams you’ve shared, shattering them to pieces. To him it meant that all of it meant nothing to you, that you couldn’t care in the way he once believed you did. Even that felt wrong.

“The Jedi are nothing like the Sith. How could you compare them? You and I both know what the Jedi truly are”

“The truth is that neither Jedi or Sith are correct in their teachings. Their minds vexed by their own ignorance.”

“Is that why you ran?” He questions, he’d noticed a small connection in your words, a slow realization of what it was you were implying. Anakin needed confirmation, something tangible, but even then he wasn’t sure if he truly understood the situation.

“It’s none of your business why I ran” Your heart thrummed in a pace that felt as if it might fly out of your chest and land right into the palms of his hands. You refused to allow him any information, if he’d chosen to take you in to custody, even then you wouldn’t give up your pain, your emotions, that was the Jedi trained in you. To restraint to prevent to protect the parts of you the galaxy wasn’t allowed to see.

“As a Jedi Knight, I have every right to ask you this question. You will answer it” He demanded.

“You have no power over me. I am not yours to order around. I will do no such thing.”

“You will tell me”

“No”

“What has you so afraid that you can’t even explain yourself?” You hadn’t noticed the way he shifted closer to you, the way his scent filled your nose amongst the fresh breeze. It was intoxicating your senses. You shook your head trying to clear him from your over crowded thoughts, regaining your control you were beginning to loose. As out of practice as you were in controlling your emotions you knew Anakin could sense what you were feeling. The fighting was beginning to take its toll.

“I am not afraid” You say through gritted teeth.

“Then tell me why you’d left me.” His voice softens, the aggression leaving him completely, the two of you beginning to wear down from the tension, all time high of emotions that rampaged through you both.

“I can’t” Your eyes flicker between his. You fought the tears that risked falling. Your teeth remain gritted as your jaw sets. You could feel the exhaustion building within yourself. You were tired from all of this pain and torment. You had tried to make yourself look cruel, evil, an enemy that belonged in a prison. That the Jedi wasn’t your home but you weren’t good enough for the Sith either. You made yourself look like a runner with a need to work for hire. A possible bounty hunter if you truly wanted. You hadn’t, you’d become a mechanic who helped anyone that came through the station good or bad. Jedi life was never truly meant for you. Your emotions are always running at an all time high, the natural way of life which you craved, it made you vulnerable…The Jedi could’ve prosecuted you for it.

That was only part of the reason, Padme was only a trigger for you. She was everything you wanted to be and more. To do as she pleases, to live as free and unrestricted as possible. The ability she had to help those in need while remaining true to herself and her cause. She’s able to keep her head on her shoulders while rule with logic and emotion. All the things you wished you could’ve done or still do. You supposed that’s why Anakin loved Padme. She was everything he wanted to be and more. She could give him things that you couldn’t, not then and certainly not now. Anakin could sense the war within yourself, the push and pull within the force evident and clear. With that came the barrier you built around yourself, he knew you all too well. You’d kept your secrets hidden, but your force signature called to his begging and pleading for help.

Two single tears roll down your cheeks staining them along the way. Anakin had half a mind to reach out and swipe them away. Your suffering was more than what he’d imagined. Your brows scrunched together again in anger as you aggressively wiped the tears from your cheeks. You crossed your arms, your body tense and tight, it practically locked itself in place. Anakin had come close enough to you that if he truly wanted he could grasp your hand and pull you into him. The two of you lost in the moment. “Tell me,” He whispers, pleading for an answer.

“ If you’re not here to take me back to the temple then leave” You jutted your chin towards the road.

“I won’t leave you again, Y/N not this time.” he whispers to you, the sound of your name brings you back in time. All of your old memories collide into one another. He calls back to you, to who you were, who you both were. He calls into the force for guidance as its presence builds upon it. You are reminded of your friendship you’d built together. The love, the warmth, the comfort, the support, all of it. His hand extends outward grasping into your hand that had wiped away your tears. He hadn’t hesitated, he hadn’t given himself the opportunity. There it was again, the emotions that plagued you came crawling back. His skin gilded against yours, the slightly tug, bringing you as close as possible to him. The tears flowed without warning, you shook your head, eyes cast downwards, as you attempted to pull yourself out of his grasp. His touch burned in a way that your heart craved. Everything about your internal body betrayed you, even your thoughts became clouded.

“You’re wrong…I-I saw you with Padme” You whispered, your gaze flickering up to meet his. In your clouded state of mind you knew the truth. He would leave you again and you would be in the same position you are now.

“ What?”

“You both looked so in love.” You shrugged, your body losing all its energy. Your lashes flutter with wetness by the tears you’d shed.

“ How did you-” His expression turned to confusion. He’d checked the hall that night. Taking every precaution there was to make sure that their evening had been left uninterrupted…It seems that part of the plan went accordingly but what he hadn’t considered was you. The possibility of you catching him in the act..

“It was an accident, really I mean, to think that I could’ve been able to escape my own torment even while on duty-” You shook your head, a painful laugh escaped your lips. “-I was doing my usual routine check and yet, I found myself torn between becoming the jedi I was meant to be, or to be in love with someone I couldn’t have… In the galaxy we live in, the decision had been made for me…I realized I couldn’t be in love and be a Jedi. I would’ve broken one rule out of the order. To risk expulsion or prison, a lifetime sentence alone locked in a cell or trapped on a deserted planet seemed extreme…so I left.”

Anakin found it hard to believe that you had found someone to love let alone a Jedi at that. A part of him was angry, that’s you had chosen someone else, though another part of him understood. With Padme he’d learned what puppy love meant, but from the looks of it, the love you’d experienced was far greater than his. He knew as time went on, as your disappearance loomed over him, he’d learned that his love wasn’t as strong as it should’ve been.. Love no matter how big or small it was blinding. “Who was it?”

“Who was what?” You sniffled your tears slowing down, your hands vigorously wiping at your eyes.

“Who were you in love with?”

“Maker,” You groaned, you took a breath “-It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t love me.” You shrug, offering him a sorrowful, empty smile.

“How do you know?”

You looked at him ridiculously, had the conversation blown past his head? “Anakin, I said he’s with someone else” You clarified.

“I know about that but I still don’t understand-”His eyebrows scrunch as his gaze fixes on the floor, a hand slightly dismissing what you already stated. Only then did he stop in his tracks, it clicked. You’d said the man you loved was with someone else, he had been with someone else…His eyes flickered up to yours, he released the hold on his brows as they shot up in surprise. “You-You love me?” He asks you in disbelief, but only a pain filled smile creases into your features. You give a smile and a simple shrug. A variation of the words you were looking for hits you as your tears return. This time Anakin was quick to catch each one, his feet practically knocking into yours, his hands lifting to cup your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the skin.

His heart and nearly ripped apart at the mere thought of you watching him fall for Padme. How you’d caught him in the act, while you were fighting against the entire galaxy and yourself, alone. You hadn’t come to him, for the same reasons that he couldn’t go to you..Yet Anakin made the exception with Padme, had his attraction not been as strong to her, he might’ve noticed that his best friend was suffering..The truth was even after you’d left Anakin’s love for Padme dwindled to nothing. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. You were the one who he sought out, the force connected the both of you in ways he couldn’t describe. All he knew was that you were his home no matter where he was.

Anakin had been blinded by the Angel he’d seen on Tatooine forgetting his best friend’s existence. You were there for as long as Anakin could remember. You gave him advice, you went along with his stupid yet ridiculously complicated plans that always seemed to work out in the end. You faced obstacles together, you were his support, and all that time you had fallen in love with him. He had become so infatuated with the thought of an older woman, distracting himself from the possibilities of being with you. He failed to realize that you, yourself were the guardian Angel sent to him not Padme. He was blinded by his own ambitions to see it.

“I do, I just-can’t let you take the blame for my fall-” You choked out. You could see the thoughts forming beneath his gaze. You saw how he over analyzed, going over every moment, every second trying to understand where he went wrong. Then again you were there to ease his mind, to sooth his pain as you’d always done. How could he have been so caught up in a distraction. He’d taken you for granted and he hated that he had. It took him all these years to finally figure out that the deep love you held was something he’d been dying to reciprocate. He’d lost touch with his home, with his reality. He’d realized that the force had connected you both, always drawing you both into one another. The two of you share a magnetic pull, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to blame, you were always meant to be mine. Your heart called to me every moment of every day. There wasn’t a moment where my thoughts weren’t of you. I missed you so much, I was a fool to leave you to your own thoughts. I should’ve been with you, the force is what brought you back to me. The trust that I would've seen you again-it always brings me back to you.” His eyes flicker between yours as he lowers his forehead touching yours. His eyes fluttering shut, his hands still cupping your cheeks. The warmth of your skin against his flesh, it drove him insane. The electricity that followed between the two of you was undeniable. The force too pulled within you both, he could resist the urge-

His lips crash down onto yours lips, you hesitated for a mere second or too, realizing that his lips were in fact touching yours. Anakin nudges your head as he kisses you, his tongue already dancing with yours. Somewhere in between one of his hands slipped from your face, wrapping around your waist pulling you impossibly closer. You don’t remember reaching up latching your hands onto his clothes, all you knew was how hard you were gripping them. The air in your chest had nearly dissipated, your chest tightening, your body needing air. Anakin growled as he felt you slipping away from him, fuck air, he didn’t need it, all he wanted was you.

“ Wait- wait” You say breathlessly. Your mind wandered to Padme and how wrong this situation is. To think that he might still be with her right now. If anything was to happen because of this you’d feel even more guilty than you already do. You shook your head moving to keep him at arm's length. You needed to put distance between you both. “Padme-We can’t, she’ll be devastated to find out about this. Oh maker and if the Jedi find out-“ your eyes squeezed shut your nose scrunching in discomfort at the thought.

“Padme has nothing to do with this, I left her the moment I realized that I knew you were the one I loved. I won’t risk losing you again, I can’t so much as breathe when you’re not near. I’m in agony when I’m without you and when I’m with you I can finally breathe-The Jedi, they have no control over who I love. It is forbidden, yes, but the compassion that comes with love is essential to one’s life. You’re the one I want, Y/N” He smiles at you, sweet and genuine, a hint of his boyish charm shines through. How could you resist such a devotion of love? You couldn’t deny that you both wanted each other, craved each other. With the guidance of the force you two were finally brought together as if this was all made just for you both.

“Ani, this is life or death- secret this big could destroy you-” You started.

“-I know what I want.” He takes a step forward gripping your jumpsuit, pulling you back in by the waist.

“You know they’ll check the logs on your fighter to see where you’ve been-” You shook your head, you placed your hands on his chest attempting to put a barrier between you both. Though your arms weaken, your body already itching to succumb to his warmth. The force and the galaxy hummed with joy, it echoed through you even as you argued and deflected, trying to stop what was meant to happen.

Anakin would never allow that, not when you’re here, in his arms, alive, breathing, your skin touching his. What more could he ask for, the Galaxy could wait for him, as the war would always be there. With you he wasn’t guaranteed the time he wished for, the time he needed. He’d have to relearn you all over again, and that was all he could dream of.“Y/N, you’re not changing my mind.” His hand caresses your cheek, you instinctively lean into his touch. Anakin hums, his smile remains, as your eyes finally flutter shut. He pulls your head towards his, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. So inviting, so calming, the tension melting away.

“I might” You huffed.

“Never”Anakin chuckled his hand around your waist stroking your hip. You could feel how relaxed he’d become. He held you in a tight embrace, one where you could feel that he wasn’t ready to let go. One where you’re sure you weren’t ready to let go either. You sighed involuntarily, Anakin’s heart jumped at the sound. Your eyes flutter open upon the sound of your own sighed, your own heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as you lifted your head back, your eyes lifting to meet his.

“Nothing, but um we should probably get back to the port. I’m sure Obi Wan and his padawan are looking for you.” You peel yourself out of his arms only for his hand to grasp onto yours pulling you in for another kiss. His nose bumps yours just as he takes your lips into his. So tender and yet it’s filled with passion, a need, so heated it becomes. You fell just as quickly as you realized how far he wanted to take it. A chuckle vibrates through your chest as you peck his lips once more. “-Mhmm we can’t”

“I’ll have Ahsoka stall him for a while-with a little help from Rex, it’ll keep him occupied” He smirked

You squint your eyes at him “You would have his padawan distract him? And the clone?”

“ Not his padawan, my padawan” his smirk turns into a grin, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Besides, Rex will be there to help in case things go sideways.”

“ Y-You’re padawan? Since when?” You went to sling your bag over your shoulder, Anakin swiftly taking it from you and placing it on his shoulder instead.

“Since I became a Jedi knight. The council thought it would be a good idea for me to train a padawan. They felt I was fit for the role” The two of you inched toward your front to enter into your home.

“Fit for the role, my ass.” You muttered rolling your eyes playfully.

“Are you questioning my skills as a Master?” He crosses his arms staring at you with an expression that was filled with pride, and with teasing.

“So what if I am?” You questioned, crossing your own arms as you stood near the threshold.

“So you want to pick a fight with me?”

“You couldn’t teach a padawan to save your life-”

“I do hope the two of you have resolved your issues.” Obi Wan's voice echoes from the end of your driveway. No trace of hatred or anger, only a genuine sense of care, happiness. Your heart squeezed at the hope that you were safe again. You felt at ease and comforted, Obi Wan travels across the dirt and gravel, as nears you and Anakin, Ahsoka trailing behind with Rex. Even you could sense the happiness from her, a smile gracing her features.

“You could say that.” Anakin grins sharing a look with you by his side, you couldn’t help but return the grin.

“It's good to see you, Obi Wan” You shift your gaze back to Obi Wan who couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

“It’s good to see you too, Y/N” Obi wan bows his head, his gaze catches dirt and grass smeared from the ground onto both of your clothes. He took note that the two of you shared a few throws to one another. He could remember the many training sessions you both shared, how you sparred, the way you too made it look so easy…Warmth spread through his chest as his gaze fixated on both of you. To see the two of you in the same light, teasing, challenging, loving, two compassionate hearts. He knew what you felt, and how you’d left the order for a price he couldn’t pay. One that he considered doing himself.. Yet he was proud of you for taking that chance, illuminating the path for Anakin to fulfill his destiny, his fate, that had already been written for him. A small silent sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy..whether you realized it or not.

Obi Wan knew the force worked in mysterious ways no matter how many times he practiced meditation. What he did know was the force had a way of working itself out, creating and destroying paths that were meant to cross. How could Obi Wan deny that even in your separation, the two of you were always meant to cross paths? There was a plan written in the stars that he couldn’t compete with, if the path drew Anakin to you, and you were meant to be his light, then Obi Wan wouldn’t question it further. The Jedi council wouldn’t hear a word of this and he intended to keep it that way. There was nothing they needed to know, both of his former padawans happy, alive and healthy, what more could a master ask for?

“Why don’t you guys come inside, sit down and relax. I’m sure your ship won’t be ready for a few hours” You stepped aside and opened up your home. The three wandered inside taking a look around. Anakin was quick to scoop your hand in his as he stood next you, his eyes finding yours the two of you sharing the same look of love and wonder.

A new path, a new challenge forged by the force by destiny by forbidden attachments...

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker ffanic #anakin x fem reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #x poc reader #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #x reader #x y/n

130 notes · View notes

strange-little-spy · 2 months ago

Text

Popcorn

summary: You teach the recovering Winter Soldier how to make popcorn

Warnings: post-hydra Winter Soldier ~ recovery from trauma ~ domestic fluff ~ soft!winter soldier ~ general fluff ~mention of trafficking, nothing more

AN: Personally, popcorn is one of my favorite snacks, so I wondered what it would be like sharing with the Winter Soldier. Also this is dedicated to @embarnes for their amazing little series of which this cannot compare to.

Word Count: 1693 words

It had been so long since he had come to you for most things, he was pretty self-sufficient when it came to normal things, his own care, feeding himself, all good things. But you had come to crave the days he came to you with a shirt and asked if you could help him. He was very minimal in his speech, making it rather childlike and quite adorable when he did come to you with small or simple tasks.

It was good, his progress. You could only hope now he could be left on his own sooner rather than later…

Anyways, you had only three weaknesses. Black-and-white movies, popcorn and him. Mix all three together? Oh boy was it the time of your life.

You enjoyed showing Bucky— or as he referred to himself, Soldat, how to make things like cookies or bread. But he was fascinated when you had first returned to the living room with a bowl full of buttery flaky goodness you called popcorn. And when he tasted it, oh my, he was hooked. He practically begged you to make more when the bowl was empty. To which you happily complied.

He loved it, he watched you make it, taking in breathes of the buttery scent from the kitchen. You sometimes even made it just for him even when he didn’t ask for it. You just saw that look and headed for the kitchen.

One slow evening, he approached you silently, the jar where you kept the kernels in his mismatched hands.

“Hi.” You greeted, offering a smile. “Whatcha got there?”

“Popcorn.” He looked to the jar. “Make, please.”

“Alright, bring that into the kitchen then.” You stood up and turned on the stove as you passed the knobs. Grabbing the large pot in which you made the snack in, you set it on the burner. You never liked microwave popcorn, too buttery in your opinion, so you stove-popped yours. It gave it sort of a homemade flavor.

“Tell you what,” You looked to the soldier as he gingerly set the jar on the wooden countertop of the island between you two. “I’ll show you how to make it, how does that sound? That way you can do this yourself, I’ll watch you, of course just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

He gave you that bug-eyed stare of confusion and surprise. “I can make it?”

“Sure, why not? I think you enjoy it more than I do.” Granted he probably hadn’t had it in over 70 years, but still. He was enthusiastic about it.

“Okay…” He rumbled, slowly inching his larger frame over to the stove. He almost saw it as a taboo area, only you could work the knobs and the hot burners. But you had slowly coaxed him into working it under your supervision and guidance.

“So you take the ghee butter.” You pointed to the small jar of the butter before handing him a spoon. “Take a few scoops of it with the back of the spoon and lather it on the bottom of the pan, but be careful not to touch the pan.”

He obeyed without word, being extra attentive of where his hand was to the pan. The butter began to melt as he rubbed the back of the spoon onto the pan, adding three scoops of butter.

He looked to you with anticipation, the spoon and jar in his hands still.

“Good, good, now put the spoon in the sink and put the jar back there.”

He did so as you pulled the measuring cup out and poured around 1 cup of kernels into the Pyrex glass. You handed it to the soldier as he turned back to you and the stove.

“Now pour this in the pan and put the lid over it, we don’t want popcorn everywhere.” You teased. That was one of your odd bucket list items; Make popcorn without a lid.

He made sure the lid was on as he peered through the glass, waiting for the first pop. You hauled yourself onto the counter and waited, watching. You smiled when you remembered the first time he saw the little white puff appear in the pan. His eyes had gotten as big as baseballs. He didn’t leave your side when you made it afterwards, enthralled by the steady appearance of white puffs in the pot as the kernels vanished. Your enjoyed the transparent lid as well, it was a shared stimulation.

Pop! He jumped when the first kernel popped into existence, leaping toward the lid and falling back down, followed by another which soon became a snowstorm of popcorn.

“Start shaking it so they won’t burn.” You instructed, grasping the handles of the pot and giving it a shake back and forth to show him. He grabbed the handles and shook it a few times before stopping to let you lift the lid just enough to let the steam out.

In a few moments, the pot was full with fluffy goodness.

“Take it off the burner,” You said while grabbing the bowls from the cabinet and setting them next to each other on the island. “And pour it in these.”

He looked at you before taking the lid off and carefully pouring the puffs into the bowls.

“Good job!” You smiled, taking the still hot pot and putting it back on an empty burner. “Now pick one of the bowls and how ‘bout finding us a movie?”

He stared at you again, surprised. “Mine?”

“Well, yeah, you made it, you should be entitled to have your own bowl then.” You shrugged, sliding the bowl on the left toward him. “You want salt?”

“Please.” He rumbled, his hands cupping the bowl.

You sprinkled a few shakes of salt onto the bowl and some on your own. “If you want more salt, I’m putting it right here, okay?” You planted the glass shaker on the island before grabbing your bowl, turning off the kitchen light and heading into the living room.

He followed you closely, already picking a few pieces out of his bowl.

“You wanna pick the movie?” You asked before plopping onto the couch and grabbing the large blanket you always had. He nodded and crouched beside the DVD rack that you kept the extensive collection of older movies on, mostly gifts from your parents. You were what you might call a classic’s snob.

“This.” He handed you a case.

“Ooh, I like your taste.” You commented, taking the movie and turning on the DVD player. “I like 101 Dalmatians.”

He didn’t reply but dug into his popcorn, relishing the buttery flavor.

You kept the movie at a low volume just to keep the louder or more sudden noises from startling him. He’d watched this movie before, but you knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of loud noises. You weren’t either, matter of fact. You always had a pair of noise-canceling headphones around.

“Want the blanket?” You offered when you felt his nudge his metal shoulder next to you. You knew his arm could get cold and it would agitate him when it did, so you were a source of warm and comfort for these moments.

He nodded, chewing slowly.

You smiled softly and wrapped the queen sized blanket around his legs and pulled it closer to you both. You loved, loved, loved it when he practically demanded attention. You couldn’t rush him, but when the day came when he willingly snuggled next to you, it was as if your heart shattered when he finally showed his trust.

He still pressed himself into a corner every so often, his eyes empty as he relived something terrible from his past. You thought it best not to pry about these episodes, but you offered many sources of comfort for him in any way you could.

You were careful. It wasn’t as if you didn’t trust him, but he was still dangerous in his own sense. True, you had the sedatives to put him under if such an incident occurred, but you felt sick to your stomach when you thought about what might happen to him if you actually needed to use them.

He’d actually kind of grown on you. It wasn’t as if you resented him when the Avengers first offered you the task of harboring the literal world’s finest assassin. Brainwashed, not to mention. Why had they asked you when Steve was the better option?? One. He seemed to like you when he saw you. Two. Steve was always busy with missions and figuring the cases out. Three. You had experience with victims of sex-trafficking along with two foster teenagers who claimed you were quite the wonder.

Even then, over the last year, he’d grown attached to you. You were the only one he sought out after an episode. He searched specifically for you when you brought him to the compound for Steve’s birthday, he had stuck by your side the entire time after he found you. He reminded you very much of the rescue dogs your friend from college fostered. They had likes, dislikes, triggers and such, but they were incredibly affectionate and loyal once you gained their trust and showed real kindness and simply human love. It was only natural he would crave your presence.

You blinked awake and realized the movie was almost over, the sound of gentle snoring beneath you. When you looked down, you couldn’t help smiling at Bucky who was sound asleep, his arm wrapped up in his own blanket along with the larger one over you as he pressed himself close to you, seeking your warmth even in his sleep. The words ‘Teddy Bear’ came to mind when you saw him. The two empty bowls were set on the coffee table, apparently set there by the sleeping soldier on your lap. You muffled a quiet squeal of excitement and carefully resettled yourself so you and Bucky would be more comfortable. The scent of the minty shampoo you let him use wafted between the buttery scent of the popcorn creating a rather soothing mixture as you feel back into the lull of sleep

Thank you for reading! Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent ~ @oh-to-be-a-murderer ~ @thebestmerc-1 ~ @itzzkaylaaa ~ @twoarrsandonesea

#sandy speaks #shes an artist #writers on tumblr #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #james bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

144 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 1 year ago

Text

January poll story

NSFW - Barbatos x MC - Nightbringer AU + monsterfucker + breeding + ovipositor kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (plot heavy) (dom!top!Barbatos / bottom!sub!MC) (monsterfucker; breeding; ovipos/eggs; slight degredation and humiliation; but mostly praise; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; two dicks; aphrodisiac-like effects; overstimulation; slight dacryphillia/tears; slight dubcon at the beginning; cheating adjacent?; mentions of aftercare) (no body specification for MC, and yes I made it work so he can breed any body) (Barbatos as Nightbringer + AU) (kinda fucked up plot)

Word Count: +5,000 (new longest single character fic. Sorry? Why does this happen when I write monster Barbs)

A bittersweet pang struck your chest when you received an invitation to the Demon Lord’s castle directly from Barbatos. Even the way he had phrased the invite was reminiscent of future Barbatos – the demon who adored you. When you were sent back to the past, your relationship began anew, and you were forced to face him while craving the loving affection you had worked so hard to earn. Deep in the pit of your stomach, a nagging guilt bit at you every time you were around this past Barbatos, wishing for an unbecomingly familiar show of affection. You knew you would return to the future someday, and you were certain you wouldn’t be able to make him fall in love with you before you left. Was it so awful to want him to pull you into a quiet hall and kiss you to breathlessness before returning to his duties? Were you really as monstrous as your guilt believed for wishing this version of Barbatos would need you so desperately that he milked every second he could spare just to sate his desire for you?

All the lust and love that you had quelled came back, overflowing, when your D.D.D. buzzed last night while you were preparing dinner. Solomon had been so kind as to leave the kitchen and allow you to cook in peace. Barbatos’s name, accompanied affectionately – and delusionally – by a green heart, appeared on the screen.

Barbatos: Good evening, MC. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of visiting the castle tomorrow. The Young Master is set to attend an overnight party hosted by the House of Lords. I was not permitted to accompany him this time. He’ll be gone for nearly three days with the travel. It’s been ages since I’ve been apart from him for so long. The thought of it makes me anxious. Your presence seems to put me at ease. As such, I would appreciate your company if you could spare some time for me. I eagerly await your response.

Your heart swelled as you stared down at your phone. He wanted to see you. It almost sounded romantic. Your gushing was interrupted by the hiss of evaporating liquid; your pot boiled over.

“Shit!” You shoved your phone into your pocket and rushed to the stove. Everything was fine, but you sighed at the mess you were going to have to clean – and you couldn’t do that until you changed burners and allowed the dirty one to cool.

It wasn’t until you had finished cooking and went to message Solomon that dinner was ready, unlocking your D.D.D. only to see your chat with Barbatos, that you remembered: you never replied! Solomon could wait the one minute it took for you to respond to Barbatos.

MC: Sorry! I had some kitchen trouble, but it’s fine now. I would love to see you.

Barbatos: Excellent. I will see the Young Master off at 7am. You are welcome to come by any time after that. I look forward to it.

You arrived at the castle that afternoon, anxiously wondering how you would interact with Barbatos. You hadn’t spent much time alone with him, and you weren’t as close as you were in the future. Maybe this version of Barbatos was slightly different than the one you knew, and you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, but to him, you were practically a stranger. Every intimate detail you had shared was resting in his mind, millennia from now. Still, you wanted to be around him, so you were determined to find some way to enjoy your day. Maybe you could bake together like old – well, future – times.

“Good afternoon. I’m so pleased you could make it,” Barbatos greeted you at the door with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “I apologize for the late notice. I didn’t interrupt any plans, did I?”

“Not at all. My day was clear – and even if it wasn’t I –” you stopped yourself short. You wanted to tell him that you would have cleared it just for him, but that seemed far too intimate for your current relationship.

“If it wasn’t?” Barbatos urged you to continue.

“I –” you tried again, “It isn’t often that I get invited to the castle. I would have made the time.”

“How kind of you.” Barbatos chuckled, covering his smile in that shy manner you had come to adore. “Would you be so kind as to follow me as I finish up my rounds? I’d like to ensure everything is in order before I can devote my full attention to you.”

His words made your heart race, reviving some long-deceased hope that he would fall for you in this timeline. Perhaps the future had a much stronger impact on the past than you expected it to. Your face felt warm as you nodded.

Barbatos walked along side you at a leisurely pace, only taking a step ahead to guide you in one direction or the other and to open doors for you. He maintained polite chatter, mostly asking about your week. You hadn’t been walking very long before you realized you were heading deeper into the castle – namely towards the labyrinth. Even in the future, you rarely went near it, so as you got closer, the castle looked increasingly unfamiliar. You wondered if the rumors about the torture chamber below the castle had formed already or if those claims would come later. It felt eerie to head towards them now, but you figured it was part of Barbatos’s duty to check them during his rounds.

You continued through dark, stony halls – lit only by the dim candlelight from the sconces lining the walls. It seemed that the flames gradually appeared as you walked ahead. Had you bothered to look back, you would have also seen them fade behind you, leaving the dim corridor in pitch-black darkness. The creepy atmosphere was getting to you, and you inched closer to Barbatos. His smile widened slightly, but he didn’t comment.

“Do you go down here every day?” you asked him nervously.

“No, not usually, but I haven’t checked the labyrinth in a while. It’s necessary to monitor the candle levels and keep an eye out for leaks or potential . . . pests. I figured now was as good of a time as any. It can be a boring walk by myself.”

A large iron door stood at the end of the hall – one which seemed to require magic from Barbatos before it would open. He ushered you into a room, lined with iron-barred cells. As he shut the door behind him, you scanned your surroundings. There were no other visible doors – no clear point of exit. You turned back to look at Barbatos, confused.

“Why did you close the door?”

Before you could get an answer, Barbatos pushed you against the cool stone wall, holding you still from behind. One gloved hand grabbed your wrist while the other snaked up your neck seductively. The sensation reminded you of when Barbatos would get desperate for your body – how his greed would take over until his hands were wandering over you like some horrifying colonial effort, ready to claim you no matter the cost. Had you not loved him, or he not loved you, that greed might have terrified you.

“I know why you’re here,” Barbatos whispered in your ear.

You were confused and suddenly afraid. The realization hit you again: this was not your Barbatos. He might be suspicious of you, and that made him dangerous. Although you had seemingly gotten along well with him so far, especially during the preparations for RAD’s opening, there was a chance that he harbored doubts about your presence in the Devildom. This version of Barbatos could kill you.

“Please,” you whispered, afraid – although you weren’t certain what you were asking of him. He shifted into his demon form, still holding you firm in his hands. His breath burned on your neck. Your fear eased as you felt his tail slither up one of your legs and caress between them, leaving a slick trail over your clothes, but the confusion remained.

Did he want you? If so, he was so much harder to charm in the future. Was this what you had been hoping for? He was rougher than the Barbatos you knew – that much was evident in the tight grip he had around your wrist.

“We’ve met in the future, darling. And from what I’ve deduced, you’re so important to me that you could make me want for more,” Barbatos spoke, letting the words tingle on your skin. You shivered and turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His hand slid away from your neck, and he bit his glove, tugging it off before discarding it on the cobblestone floor. That warm, bare hand slipped under your shirt, feeling your heart pound in your chest as his tail continued to tease you through your clothes. With a chuckle, Barbatos licked up your neck, flicking your earlobe with his tongue before pulling away. It felt hotter than usual, and your skin burned where his saliva began to dry. You moaned, earning a satisfied hum from Barbatos. “It feels good, doesn’t it? He gave us a century before my decision – how generous. It seems I learned to calm my urges a good deal over the years, but he forgets himself – myself,that is. I’m not the patient man you know. I don’t need a century to decide to claim you.”

“I don’t understand,” you spoke through gritted teeth, trying to hold back your moans. Nothing he said made sense, and it took every bit of restraint to focus on him instead of the pleasure he inflicted upon you.

“About a century from now, I secretly cemented my commitment to Lord Diavolo. I made it so nothing in the world could take my attention from my master. It seems that you, my dear, have convinced me that was a misstep. You see, a century after the brothers fell, I learned a spell that could permanently sterilize anyone – even a being as powerful as myself,” Barbatos explained, still unnecessarily close to your ear. “I wanted my service to Diavolo to guide the rest of my life, but then I met you. The Barbatos you know couldn’t let that stand. He wants to make you his in every way possible.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Your words gave way to another moan as you tried to unravel the information through a haze of lust. All you could understand was that Barbatos – the one you knew – loved you more than he anticipated, and that was, somehow, related to why this version of him was touching you, rubbing your thighs and between your legs with the perfect pressure.

“Nightbringer offered you ‘the path to happiness . . . a place that will bring you more joy than any other.’” The words sent a chill up your spine. How did he know the exact words Nightbringer had told you? Barbatos slid his hand down to your stomach and pulled you flush against his body until you could feel him, hard and pressing into you. Somehow his touch – which should have distressed you – put you at ease. The familiarity of his body was a comfort in the confounding fear. Barbatos kissed your neck so tenderly that tears welled in your eyes. “Your happiness is his, my dear.”

“Barbatos, please,” you begged sweetly – almost whimpering for him. This time you were certain: you were begging for his touch. As long as he kept touching you like this – the way your Barbatos might, you could handle whatever he was trying to tell you.

“You can call me by my other name: Nightbringer. I – the version of me you know – sent you here to push you towards a blissful life with him, where he has given you every part of himself. In other words, darling,” Barbatos brought his lips up to your ear, “I brought you here to breed you.”

Barbatos licked up your neck again. Every touch filled you with dizzying ecstasy. There was a familiarity in the way his lips and tongue teased you, how his fingertips grazed your skin, and the way his tail toyed with you; but you had never felt this good before. Something like guilt joined your pleasure to push fresh tears to the corners of your eyes. This was Barbatos – in another epoch; he was yours in a way, and somehow still not the demon you had fallen in love with. It seemed wrong that a version of him who had yet to fall for you would make you feel so much better than the one you knew – not that you had ever found sex with Barbatos lacking, but he felt like another demon entirely. You didn’t understand why you felt this way. Could your weeks of unresolved desire have made you this sensitive to his every touch? Your legs were already trembling.

As if he had read your mind, Barbatos added with a chuckle, “And as for why your body reacts so well for me: without the sterilization spell, my pheromones haven’t been slowly dulled over millennia.”

“You mean. . .” you wanted to finish your thought or at least sigh in relief, but all you could do was gasp and moan as his tail squeezed your thigh.

“I mean that my body can bring you more pleasure now than you have ever had. Poor MC, you had the misfortune of meeting me too late. But in this time, something as simple as a bit of my saliva can make you shake and whine like some desperate slut.” Barbatos relished the way you clenched your jaw and shut your eyes. You looked humiliated yet so aroused that the embarrassment almost didn’t matter. He snaked his hand back up your chest and neck. With a single, forceful finger, he tilted your jaw until you faced him and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss. His tongue teased you, leaving you breathless and panting. Your head spun and your mind went blank. When he finally pulled back, you followed his movements with a needy whimper. You wanted more. He smirked. “There. As cute as you look when you’re embarrassed, I’d much rather see that need burning in your eyes. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He wanted this for you.”

There was a protest somewhere, drowning and gasping for air in your mind. This Barbatos had never seen you unravel at the edge of orgasm. He had never seen you blissed out. Hell. He had never even seen you in your underwear before. It was like having your first time with him all over again. You had every right to be embarrassed – especially when you were already in love with Barbatos. This version hardly knew you. You were at the mercy of a demon whose desire could never match yours; it was mortifying.

“And, my dear, if it’s any consolation,” he added, “my pheromones would have no effect if you were not such an arousing little human. I want this, too.”

Barbatos turned you around, pushing your back to the wall, and kneeled before you. His eyes were dark, and you couldn’t help but notice the pale pink blush on his cheeks as he pulled your clothes down and exposed you. He wrapped his tail around one of your ankles and pulled your leg over his shoulder.

“May I?” he asked with an obscene politeness, as if your chest wasn’t heaving and you weren’t a mess for him.

Your face burned as you nodded, too ashamed to speak the words – and too aroused to hold back your lecherous noises had you opened your mouth. With your permission, he brought his mouth to your entrance, licking you hungrily. His bare hand rubbed you gently – adding to the stimulation one slow stroke at a time – while his other hand dug into the flesh of your outer thigh. With a low growl, Barbatos plunged his tongue inside of you. He sounded so sexy. Everything burned, and all you could think to do was cover your mouth to dam the flood of moans as you came at the mercy of his tongue and hands.

Barbatos gave you a soft lick before pulling back and staring up at you. He was panting and flushed, and his eyes had a familiar amorous glint. “You’re reacting so cutely. I’ll admit, I was drawn to you before, but if you keep showing me those lewd faces, I’ll never want to let you go.”

His words warmed your pounding heart. Perhaps it was wrong, but if you could have found the strength to speak, you would have begged him not to let you go. Of course, you knew, that was your lust-drunk mind speaking, but you would have said it, nonetheless.

Barbatos let your leg go and reached up to take your arm, tugging you down and cushioning your fall as you straddled him. He shifted so that you were sitting in his lap. Your flustered face brought a grin to his lips and sent a wicked shiver up his spine.

“Take my shirt off,” he instructed. You stared at him, further embarrassed by the realization that you were the only one completely exposed. Barbatos waited for your compliance, but with an untrained patience, he sighed. “If you want me to fuck you, do it.”

Your fingers moved quickly to unbutton his collar, trembling and fumbling with the top button. Each button of his shirt and coat got easier. You could feel his heartbeat pounding through his clothes – and even more frustrating, you could feel him throbbing in his pants right between your legs.

“So good,” he praised you sweetly, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, once his clothes fell to the floor. “Pants now, darling.”

You went to unbutton his pants, grazing the bulge with your fingertips. Barbatos growled and rolled his hips up into you, making you whine.

“Careful,” he warned you playfully, tapping his fingers up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You bit your lip and tried to refocus your attention on the task at hand – or rather, under your hand. When you finally got his pants and underwear down, you ogled at a sight you had never seen before. Barbatos chuckled mischievously. “Oh dear, from the look on your face, it seems I forgot to mention something. That’s another side effect of the sterilization spell. His never comes out. Such a shame.”

You were speechless, staring at his two dicks beneath you. You had never seen the second, longer, thicker cock below the other. It was less human, too, and had the same shimmering glean – with the same teal lightning veins running along it – as his tail. Your mouth felt dry. Your lower lip was trembling.

“You seem to like what you see. No wonder I fell so hard for you,” Barbatos teased. He pulled you closer, guiding your body until he had aligned his first cock up with your hole. You felt him rub against you, smearing his precum on you. It sent a jolt of pleasure into you that spread out every which way through your body. Barbatos leaned in, sucking at the base of your neck, and riling you up even more. Your moans filled the room. This was agony – a beautiful, enticing torture. Content with his mark on your neck and your response, he pulled back just enough to whisper in your ear. “Now sit.”

Your legs shook as you lowered yourself on his first cock, feeling the second one rubbing against the curve of your ass. It felt so good that you were eager to take him all the way. Without him even asking, you started bouncing on his cock in slow, deep thrusts, savoring the way he filled you up. If your body had the strength, you would have been quicker. It wasn’t long before the pleasure was too much for you. You clung to his shoulders and tilted your head back in ecstasy.

“Barbatos,” you moaned his name as you came. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell flush against his lap, pushing him deep inside of you.

Barbatos clicked his tongue, “I suppose that was cruel of me to expect you to do all the work. Please allow me to help you.”

Wrapping his tail around your waist, Barbatos rolled you onto your back gently so that he was leaning over you. He pushed your legs up towards your chest as he bent down to kiss you. There was a sentimental sweetness to it that clouded your head further. Barbatos began to slowly rock his hips in and out of you. Every thrust had you whining against his lips. Even Barbatos found it difficult to hold in his voice, moaning into your mouth. He picked up his pace.

Suddenly, his tail’s grip around your waist tightened, and Barbatos began to move your body for you like you were his personal toy. You felt too good to be ashamed by it anymore as your moans mixed with the harsh slapping of skin. He twitched inside of you and broke the kiss to stare at you. The sight of your writhing beneath him pushed Barbatos over the edge. He pulled you against his hips with one final slap before he filled you with cum.

It drove you mad; his cum felt like an aphrodisiac pumped directly into you, leaving you trembling and whining. Barbatos gave you a soft, tender smile as he pulled out. His cum began to leak out of you, but Barbatos used his tail to lift your hips higher so he could lick it up, allowing it to pool on his tongue. He pulled you close enough to kiss you and slip his cum-coated tongue into your mouth; it was a shame to waste it, after all. You swallowed, feeling the warmth flush your face and spread through your body. Desperation flooded the pit of your stomach – aching for a break and for more simultaneously.

Barbatos admired the look on your face. He had never seen you lose control like this before. To say he was enamored would have been an understatement. Cool fingertips slid down from the base of your neck to just above your navel – as if he was trying to feel the way your body tensed with the threat of another orgasm. You moaned and begged through ragged panting, “Please, Barbatos. I can’t. I can’t take anymore.”

“Oh?” Barbatos asked, amused. He used his tail to flip you over so that your chest was pressed against the stone floor. His tail loosened its grip around your waist, only to take hold of your hips and raise your ass higher. Barbatos laughed with a darkness that struck you with fear, especially when he bent over to lick behind your ear. He could feel you shiver against his chest, which only excited him further. He cooed, “But we’re not done yet, darling. That was just preparation, I’m afraid. I told you I was going to breed you, didn’t I? Have you forgotten? I’m part serpent; I still need to fill you with my eggs. I need you to be good and take a bit more for me.”

“Eggs?” The word caught your ear. Did everything with him have to be so new?

“Yes, you heard me.” Barbatos curled his tail around your thigh and pulled your legs farther apart. He rubbed you sweetly while he continued to explain, “You see, not only does my sperm fill you with ecstasy, but it also prepares your body so that my eggs can absorb your DNA through their membranes. It’ll take parts from both of us – we’ll make a hybrid.”

Even through your exhausted, cum-drunk fog, you tried to break down his words. You could really have a baby with him? The thought had never seriously crossed your mind – you had always assumed it wasn’t possible. You’d never heard of a hybrid before. Something about the thought of having children with Barbatos frightened and thrilled you all at once.

“You’ve been so good for me, so I’ll do all the work. You just have to lay there and take it, alright, darling?” Barbatos whispered into your ear as he aligned his second cock with your hole.

His first thrust was slow and tender. You squirmed and stretched your arms out in front of you, grasping for something to anchor you. All you could do was claw at cobblestone as pleasure pushed you to tears. He was so big. It might have hurt if your body wasn’t overcome with a euphoria that numbed every other sensation. He could have clawed your thighs apart and made you bleed, and you were certain you wouldn’t have felt so much as a sting. Barbatos picked up his pace, pushing you over the edge again. You tightened around him, causing him to groan.

“You feel so good,” Barbatos panted and moaned in a ubiquitous tone. You were unravelling him. He throbbed inside of you. With another pleased groan and a few more bucks of his hips, you were filled with a new sensation. As Barbatos pulled out, an egg pumped into you. Your pleasure at the feeling almost sickened you. Why did he have to make you feel so good?

“Barbatos –” Your thoughts were interrupted by a wave of pleasure as Barbatos rubbed his second dick against your entrance again.

“Not yet,” he panted. Barbatos leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss. Slowly, you felt him thrust back inside of you, pushing the egg deeper. It pressed against your walls, clouding your head. When Barbatos broke the kiss, he laughed sweetly – almost innocently in your ear. “Wouldn’t twins be cute, my love?”

“I –” you tried to form the words: you were going to cum again. But Barbatos hushed you affectionately.

“They’re soft-shelled eggs, you can clench as much as you want, and I can pound into you as rough as I want, it’ll be fine. Don’t think. Just cum for me.” You couldn’t tell if you hated him or loved him for being able to read your mind. When it was your Barbatos, you had always loved it – even when he flustered you. You let go and let another wave of pleasure overcome you with a loud moan; you were going to drown in this feeling. Barbatos’s adoring voice broke through your afterglow. “You sound so lovely when I make you cum.”

Barbatos drew noise after noise from your lips as he continued to fuck you. One of his hands slipped between your legs to rub you as he filled you with another egg. He didn’t pull out until he felt you clenching down on him, on the cusp of another orgasm.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. Barbatos continued to rub you with his hand and slipped the tip of his tail inside of you, swirling the forked ends.

The faint glow of magic – more specifically, a summoning spell – lit up your dim corner of the room. Barbatos produced a plug. He removed his tail before pushing it inside of you. As he rubbed a gentle circle around the surface of the plug, it glowed, lighting up the palm of his hand in a pale teal color.

“Why?” you forced the ill-formed question out weakly.

Barbatos crawled around your shaking body so he could look at your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks from a mix of pleasure and panic. He brushed a stream of tears away with his thumb. “Don’t be afraid. I needed to magically seal you up until my eggs have had a chance to soak up your essence. They should be fertilized within two days. Then, we can take them out. They can mature in any warm environment after that until they’re ready to hatch. I’ll take good care of them, darling, and I’ll take good care of you, too.”

The tears continued to flow. With his help, you got to your knees. Barbatos took advantage of your position to lean in and kiss you. This kiss was more tender than before, as if it had been filled with all the affection of your beloved Barbatos. His fingertips ran up your arms and shoulders, causing you to shiver. Everything felt new and terrifying; every touch consumed you.

“Relax, my love. I’ll take such good care of you,” Barbatos cooed and kissed your cheek before standing up. He began to gather his clothes and redress himself. It didn’t escape your unfocused attention that he was still hard as he pulled his underwear on. While he got dressed, he asked you, “Now, will you be good and let me carry you up to my room? Or do I have to keep you locked up down here until you’re ready to return to the demon who sent you here? And before you answer, just know, I would much rather run you a bath, wash every inch of that precious body, serve you something delicious to eat, and spend the rest of our time alone serving you in other ways.”

You were afraid to be left alone, still hazy, and weak from pleasure. Desperate for comfort from the demon you loved, you nodded and took Barbatos’s extended hand. He pulled you into his arms and embraced your naked body tightly. His touch still burned and excited you. He whispered into the crook of your neck, “Thank you. He – the future me – requested that I thank you for giving us this gift, but I want to thank you on my behalf as well. I’ll be so good to you. I swear it – and you know I do not take promises lightly.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your arms reached up to hold him back. Even if the Barbatos you adored could be wicked and cruel sometimes – even if all you had in this time was a crude likeness that had bred you, the love coursed through your body. This was alright. You could handle this if it was for him. His happiness was yours.

A/N: I tried really hard on this one, so I hope y'all like it. I still don't know how I feel about it. I've never written ovipos before. Also, would you say it warranted an 8 in the depravity ranking after reading it? Anyway, there will be a new poll for February up in less than an hour (Feb. 1 - 12am PST) That will be up for a week. Have fun. And again, hope this did something for y'all.

#moss poll fic #gn!mc #spice tier #barbatos #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #barbatos smut

513 notes · View notes

teeth-farie · 2 years ago

Text

Forty Year Old Virgin

Johnathon Ohnn/GN Reader

Notes: virginity, null spot, hole fingering, dry humping, clothed sex, kinda tribadism, spit, alcohol, spot being pathetic, 3.5k

☞. . . Seems like I’m back from my little hiatus!! I actually started writing this fic yesterday and it’s the FASTEST I’ve ever finished one. I blame the spot server I’m in

Johnathon Ohnn is thirty-eight years old. He knows this because he always liked celebrating his birthday, even if they got less eventful over the years. He still enjoyed the candles and the cake, he still enjoyed how his family would come together to sing for him and how his coworkers would sign a group card.

Johnathon was thirty-seven when the collider exploded. He didn’t realize his birthday had passed until he looked at a calendar. And really, how pitiful was that? No candles, no cake, not even a sloppily signed card. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he craved normality.

It wasn’t long after that he met you, significantly younger and full of spunk. It made him feel a little youthful again, like he was back in that old dorm room at the shiny age of twenty. Admittedly he didn’t do as many fun things as you did at his age, he mostly studied and contemplated taking Adderall to get through his finals, but he digressed.

But observing you made him realize just how many things he missed out on during his youth. Sure, he sneaked a couple of his dad's beers as a teen and broke some college lab equipment he wasn’t supposed to be touching, rebellious things like that, but that wasn’t truly living.

Before, he thought his accomplishments would speak for him; his doctorates and files of studies, his collider. But now, as he watches and listens to the dramatic reenactments of your late teenage hood and early adult life, Johnathon begins to realize maybe science isn’t the end all be all of his life. He realizes that he never went to any parties in college, he never had a quarrel-filled romance his parents disapproved of, he never traveled outside of the country aside from work—and as his eyeless gaze flits downwards, taking in the sight that is you in incredibly short shorts, he realizes another thing.

He’s never had sex, either.

It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex, because he really desperately did, it’s more like he never got the chance. Between his academics that shot straight to the workforce and his lack of genuine attraction to anyone around him, it got put on the back burner.

But now it’s all he can think about.

He thinks about it when he watches your hands gesture wildly, the way they look so agile yet sturdy. He thinks about it when your shirts are low cut or rising up your midriff. He thinks about it when you stand close to him and all he can smell is you. He thinks about it when your hips shimmy to a song you like. He thinks about it when-

Ahem.

He thinks. A lot.

Johnathon has never had a quiet mind, that much is true. He’s never figured out whether or not it was a good thing, but considering how much material his brain has given him for lonely nights, it can’t all be bad.

Well. That was before the collider blew his dick clean off too. Which was another thing on his long long list of ‘Is living still worth it? I’m not too sure.’ (Except now he finally has a pro on that list, thanks to you.)

He can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous, however, hearing you talk briefly about past flings and relationships. Although he couldn’t exactly distinguish whether or not he felt jealous of your experience, or jealous of the men in your stories. He knows he could be better, even if he had virtually no experience to go off of. Despite it all, he still thinks to himself that he could make himself into someone you wanted, someone good for you. (Though he does also wonder if that’s perhaps his newly inflated ego talking.)

Johnathon sighs and holds his head in his hands. His hand briefly falls through the hole in his face and comes out of his thigh. Regardless of what he thinks could happen and what could be, he knows deep down that you couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. Still, a man is allowed to dream, right?

…

As it turns out, dreams do come true.

Or at least a drunk, sloppy version of them.

To be fair, Johnathon didn't think he still could get drunk, so it wasn't his fault that he was a bit heavy-handed with the bottle. It didn’t help that you were so influencing either, all too eager to dump the rest of your bottle down the hole in his face just to see where it’d go. Apparently, liquids dissolved down quickly in his voided body before they could emerge out of another hole. So, he drank. He drank because it was the first time he could feel any kind of normalcy, he could feel like he was human again. Unfortunately for him, he's still just as loose-lipped when drunk as he was before the collider incident.

You swirl the foamy remnants of beer in your bottle, watching it swirl through the brown glass before swallowing it down with a tip of your head. Johnathon watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow, entranced. You breathe out, satisfied, and set the bottle down on the coffee table amongst all the others.

“Y’know,” You begin, leaning back against the couch cushions, legs curled up comfortably to your chest. “You’re not as bad looking as you think.” You’re squinting your eyes a little at him, as if you were examining his body. “Lotsa people are into your kinda thing.”

Johnathon’s face hole constricts a little as if he were narrowing his eyes. “My kinda thing? What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“You know! Like…like not human looking.” You’re still looking at him, grinning, fingers picking at the hem of your pajama pants.

He makes a sound like a scoff. “That’s not really a compliment…”

You whine in subtle frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, you have different kinds of qualities. Good qualities.” You poke your finger out at him, jabbing his chest. Your fingertip sinks into one of his inkblot holes and it gives Johnathon a feeling that he knows he’ll be thinking about later tonight when he's all alone. You replace your finger to actually poke his chest now, the smooth, almost rubbery skin of him. He shivers a little nonetheless.

“What…” he swallows thickly. “What kind of qualities?”

You continue to idly run circles over his chest with your index finger, humming softly to yourself. “I know the regular things, like how much of a good listener and talker you are. You know lots about stuff. And you also are like, super eager to please. That’s gotta be a good quality too.”

Johnathon looks down at your hand, his black little heart thumping in his chest. It’s almost too intimate for him to bear.

“Oh! And your holes!”

“My…my holes?”

“Yeah, I bet you can do some crazy things with them.”

“Oh god–” He nearly chokes at the thought running in his head.

“Yeah,” you continue, pulling your hand back to yourself. Johnathon hates how it makes him feel lonely. “I once met a guy who had crazy holes, haha, you could fit a whole fist in ther–”

“OH wow, really?” He quickly cuts you off, his paper-white face flushing a dull blue. He flaps his hands a little, as if it could cool down both his flustering and spiking jealousy. “I don’t think you should k-kiss and tell, right? Isn’t that a thing we’re not supposed to do? Kissing and…telling?” God, he really wants to know what it’s like to kiss you.

“Oh, c’mon! I know there has to be at least something you’ve done that you just gotta talk about. What is it, huh? Weird partner? Did they have a weird fetish?” You gasp suddenly. “Oh god, a pregnancy scare maybe?…pregnancy fetish?”

“No, no, none of that!” Johnathon waves his hands out in front of him rapidly, hoping to quell your questioning. “I’ve never uh- never really–”

“What, are you vanilla? Usually, nerds are like, SUPER kinky–”

“I’ve never had sex!” Curse him and his loose lips.

The air goes still amongst the sudden silence and Johnathon begins to regret ever speaking. Actually, scrap that, he regrets ever being born. Well, it’s actually not like he really had a choice in the matter, but that's beside the point.

Then, you snort a little. “You’ve gotta be joking, right? Aren’t you like, forty?”

His face hole shrinks down nearly to the side of a pinhole in both embarrassment and frustration. “I-I’m not forty! I’m thirty-eight! A-and besides, lots of people don’t have sex until they’re older! Or at all!”

“Oh my god, this is like that one movie, what’s it called, uhh,”

You tap your chin, completely ignoring him.

“I should have never said anything, I’m such an idiot—“

“No, don’t say that!” You poke his chest again, whining when he recoils from your touch. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you, I’m sorry.”

Johnathon huffs, grabbing one of the half-full bottles and dumping it down his face hole. It scrunches slightly in what you’ve begun to assume is swallowing. You pout and scoot up closer to him. “Johnny…”

He chokes a little, his gangly body going stiff. “Y-yeah?”

You grab his face, fingers pressing against his pale, rubbery cheeks. “You wanna do it?”

For a moment, Johnathon feels like the world has gone still. Everything is muffled and slow as the realization dawns on him. “Wuh-what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You repeat, squishing his cheeks after each word like you were making him say them too.

“Yes! I-I mean, I would really like to, you’re so pretty, b-but uh, I’m a little, hah, how do you say it, ohmygosh this is harder than I thought it’d be! Uhm!” He flusters and rambles, hands flapping in front of his chest, and you’re just waiting. You’re looking at him with lidded, bedroom eyes, and Johnathon thinks he finally understands the meaning of that word.

“I don’t have, I don’t have a penis!”

A beat goes by, and then another, and he begins to feel like he blew his only shot with you.

“Do you have a vagina? It’s not an issue for me, I wanna fuck you either way.”

Jesus Christ, you are going to kill him.

“I mean, I don’t have anything.” He breathes out, shoulders deflating. “The uh, the whole collider thing got rid of it all.”

“Oh man, that’s awful.” You pat his shoulder, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. “But, y’know, the offer still stands…maybe we can get a little science-y and figure out how to get you off, eh?”

Johnathon lifts his head and finds you grinning at him. “Science-y?” He repeats, his face hole crinkling like a smile.

“Yeah, dude! Science-y! Hypothesis! Theories! Quantum holes! Your holes!”

He snorts and it leads into a laugh, a deep belly laugh that he hasn’t been able to do in a while. And really, why the hell not?

His laugh dies down when you get closer, straddling his thighs and seating yourself down in his lap—and god, he can feel those short shorts he loves riding up your thighs and wrinkling against his skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” You croon, leaning in and nudging your nose under his chin. If Johnathon still had a dick, that would have sent blood right down to it.

His inkblot holes quiver amongst his body, undulating and jumping across his skin like microscopic particles, bouncing against each other under a microscope. Your face gets closer to his, lips hovering over the entrance of his face. Gently, curiously, you purse your lips and kiss the voided space. It’s almost as if there’s a thin membrane separating the outside world from the inside of him, cool to the touch and like bubblegum stretched thin. The membrane melds against your lips like it’s kissing you back and when Johnathon shivers, it puckers and purses.

His hands tremble, hovering above your hips and thighs, as if it’d burn him to touch you properly, despite how much he craves it.

Your tongue drags over the edge of his face hole and Johnathon practically whimpers. You’re humming softly, one hand idly stroking his arm as the other feels up his chest. He used to be a tad bit insecure about his pudgy torso, but with so many spots, he had other things to outweigh the worry. But now he can’t help but hold his breath, waiting for your approval of his body, the kind he so desperately needs.

“Cute.” You say mostly to yourself, dipping your fingers into a hole in his chest. He sighs out heavily in relief and pleasure, his head thumping back against the edge of the couch.

“How’s this feel?” You poke and prod into the hole, pressing past the same kind of membrane as his face. Vaguely, you feel your fingertips come back out of another hole, but you don’t focus as much on that part.

“Good,” Jonathan answers curtly, sucking a breath through his nonexistent teeth. When he exhales, it's shuddery and almost pitiful. “It’s good, it’s like- like there but not,”

“So you can feel it? What if I do something like this?” Curiously, you curl your fingers in the empty space, and a fuzzy feeling coats your skin as if your fingers were pruning yet stayed completely dry. He yelps loudly, his body lurching and he finally grabs onto you. His fingers dig into your thighs on their own accord and you are absolutely delighted with it.

“Oh god!” He cries, his thighs shifting and squirming under your lap, and you start to feel something poking at your ass. You give a confused hum, lift your hips and look down. Nope, he still doesn't have a dick, but the empty space between his legs has seemingly swollen into a small, adorable bulge. Johnathon breathes out heavily and follows your gaze.

“Wow, that’s so cool…” You reach down between your laps and grind the heel of your palm against the bulge.

He gasps sharply. “Oh, fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s what I'm trying to do.” You snicker impishly. You observe the way the squishy bulge flushes with color around the surface, almost like a blush. “I bet that feels really good, huh? It’s kinda like you have a really big clit. Sorta” You squish it in your hands and he shudders, shoulders tensing and inkblot shrinking. “Hey, you know what would be fun?”

Johnathon feels a little loopy, his stomach filled with butterflies and his brain thoroughly mush. He considers this endeavor so far to be successful considering the fact he didn't think he still could feel pleasure. But here you are, proving him wrong once again.

“Wh-what would?” He finds himself asking, rutting his hips up into your hand like a depraved little thing.

You don’t answer verbally yet, just sit back down on his lap and rock your hips against his. “If you fucked yourself like this.” Your fingers curl back into one of his holes, running up and down the edge of it. Johnathon melts, blubbering out nearly unintelligible pleas.

“You can do it, right? I’ll keep fingering you if you hump me like a dirty dog.”

And oh, that does things to him. He’ll…have to address that new kink later.

“Yes,” he gasps, grabbing on tightly to your hips and canting his hips up, grinding his bulge against your sex. “Yessss!” He can’t help but cry it out, his smooth head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck from the sheer intensity of it all. The heat of you is almost unbearable on his body, inside his holes. And he really is panting like a dog, he’s humping you like he actually has a dick to work with, like you could grab him and stroke him until he was a weeping mess.

“That’s it, you don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, right? C’mon, show me what you’re made of, you little nerd.” You’re cooing to him like it’s praise, and with the way you’re stroking the inside of him, pressing your fingers past that membrane and curling until the fuzziness is almost unbearable, you might as well be.

Johnathon moans wetly against your neck, legs widening and hands holding your hips down firmly as he ruts. He grinds his aching core against you, practically delirious and melting with every saccharine whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum,” you hear him say, muffled against your skin and devious delight spreads through your entire being. You hook your fingers into the hole of his face and he cries out, a debauched “Ah! Ah!” as you lift his head up. His inkblot holes shiver violently, and you hold his face in your hands like he’s your entire world, like he’s the only thing that matters to you.

And then you lean in, holding his face so carefully—

And spit.

The man below you gurgles, your spit falling down the hole in his face as a viscous glob tasting faintly of beer. Johnathon thrusts his hips up once, twice, and he’s cumming. Nothing comes out of him, but you swear you can see the holes of him drooling, dripping liquid dark matter that hurts your eyes a little to stare at too long. Pleasure blooms in you at the sight and feeling of his incessant rutting, your hands petting his head as his first orgasm in so long washes over him.

And finally, he slumps back against the couch, trembling under you, the surface of his face flushed with color. You lift yourself off his lap, your shorts still wet with your own arousal, but you’re not done with him yet.

“It’s no good to leave your partner high and dry, you know?” You tease him, and the realization dawns on his faceless face.

“O-OH! Oh, I’m so so sorry! I-I didn’t mean- that wasn’t my intention at all! Wh-what should I do? What do you like? Oh god, I’m so sorry—“

You quiet him by lifting his gangly legs up, exposing him even further. “Don't worry about it, it’s your first time! That just means I’ll have to use you.” That evil little grin is back as you brace one foot on the floor and the other on the couch cushions, slotting your hips against his. Poor Johnathon is practically folded in half, one leg hanging over your shoulder and the other dangling uselessly to the side.

You don’t waste any time either, you get right to it, hips thrusting quick and hard against his over sensitive bulge. And oh, how he squeals. He’s always been a talkative man, but he never could have anticipated being this vocal.

“Uhgn! Hah! Mmm-mmph! I-I can’t! S’too much, too much!” He babbles on, sights locked on how your hips connect with his, ruthlessly grinding and rutting and it reminds him of some kind of wild animal.

“You can, huff, take it. Jus’ a lil more,'' your head hangs low between your shoulders, arousal twining together deep in your gut. Johnathon feels it too, and he feels it tenfold. His body feels like it’s on fire, steadily submerged in pleasure until he’s burning alive in it. He can’t take how you look above him either, so goddamn ethereal, the dim overcast of the tv lighting you from behind like a digital halo, as if you were an angel sent to soothe him after such chaos. Johnathon was never a religious man, but for you, he thinks he could be.

It only takes you a little longer, already so wound tight from before. He’s dangling on the precipice of release again, delirious with lust, clinging onto the back of your neck and tugging you in.

You find your face inside of him when you cum, and somehow the deprivation of sensory makes it all the better, colors popping up in your vision like synesthesia. You can feel his thighs tighten around you with his budding climax, but you can’t see, and you already know how you regret that. You suppose you’ll just have to overstimulate him again one day when he can’t hide himself from your view.

Johnathon goes limp and you’re finally able to pull your face from the inside of his, the dark matter sliding free from your skin like an unsticky slime. It’s weird, but oddly refreshing.

Cum stains the inside of your shorts but it’s the last thing on your mind when you take in the visual that is Johnathon. He practically glows with post coital bliss, seeped back into couch cushions without the tension you’re so used to.

You let his legs fall back down, slumping into the seat next to him. He hums softly in delight, kinda loopy, entirely pleased.

“So?” You question him, idly stroking his soft chest. It’s sweaty in its own way. “Was that good for your very first time?” You waggle your brows at him and he snorts, albeit a little weakly.

“Incredibly so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good in my life.”

You clap happily. “And you’re no longer a forty year old virgin!”

“I told you I’m NOT forty!”

#the spot #johnathon ohnn #spicy #sub atsv #the spot x reader

1K notes · View notes

variety-fangirl · 2 years ago

Note

Can I request Marc Spector having a marking/spit kink? I feel like it totally captures his tough exterior but also his need for intimacy and closeness

Forever and Always Yours / Marc Spector x fem!reader

Summary: people abandoned him his whole life until he met you, you loved him endlessly despite his flaws. So any threat to that would cause Marc and the boys to become a little... jealous.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS SHOO mentions of Jake and Steven. Porn with some plot. Smut obvs 😏 (rough yet vulnerable sex, marking and spit kink, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, hand job, mild choking, multiple orgasms, vulnerable and intimate behaviour,) lmk if I missed anything!

Author's note: of course my lovely, thank you so much for requesting 😁! I completely agree with you, our baby boy Marc has a very dominating side and yet craves/needs intimacy like his life depends on it. I'm so sorry it took me so long to do, I'm currently moving, finishing college, and trying to listen to my mental health in what I need so writing kind of got put on the back burner for a bit. Hope you love it tho! Thank you for reading, it really does mean the world. Liking, commenting, and reblogging really helps me out.

Word count: 2.8k

Your boys had always been a little... Jealous to say the least. Not that you had minded and it often ended up in my mind-blowing sex so you weren't really complaining but you sometimes wished they knew that they had nothing to worry about. That you were theirs through and through. You never had an issue with reminding any of them of that, which you knew they always appreciated, without even having to say anything. They would always be extremely vulnerable and intimate afterwards, keeping and holding you close with lots of affection on both parts. It was something you had grown to love honestly.

What you hadn't expected though, was for all three to become jealous of your new colleague at work, Justin. He was a super sweet guy, younger than you and on the slightly nerdier side. You had formed a wonderful friendship with him in only a few weeks, helping him to blossom and encouraging him to come out of his shell more. As a thank you, Justin would often buy you coffee and something sweet for breakfast every so often and offer to walk you home on the occasion. You had grown fond of the younger sweet boy, seeing him as a brother you wanted to protect. And you knew he didn't see you as anything more than a friend.

But that didn't stop your boyfriends from freaking out and acting jealous all the same. No matter how many times you had tried to ease their worries or assure them of the only innocent friendship between you and your colleague, they didn't seem to feel any less stressed about the situation. And you weren't exactly sure why. You knew the underlying feelings and traumas hiding beneath that they often refused to talk about, even Steven had been reluctant with information in the three years you'd been with them. You never pushed for further details though, only what they were willing to divulge on their own.

When you finished work this afternoon, it was like any other day. Justin offered to walk you home, his being on the way also, and left together with coffee in hand. The weather was beginning to get colder now, coats and scarves beginning to appear in people's attire. The leaves had begun to turn different colours, with peaks of orange, yellow, and brown forming. You hadn't thought it would be so cold so early, so you'd forgotten to bring a thicker coat or a scarf with you. You begin to shiver, wrapping your coat as tightly around your body and neck as possible but it didn't seem to quench the cold breeze that seemed to blow straight through you. You could feel goosebumps form on your skin. You were almost home luckily.

"You look freezing, come here." Justin fussed, pulling you into his side with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You smile up at him, "Thank you." He nods with a smile, continuing to chat mindlessly about how his latest date had gone, a friend you had set him up with. You smiled fondly, happy that the pair were getting on great, they seemed well-matched. Ten minutes later and you'd finally reached home, the cold had begun to worsen. "Thank you, Justin, I'll see you Monday yeah? Enjoy your date Saturday!" you call with a smile, waving goodbye as he walked to his own home. "See you Monday, thank you!" he called happily. You watched for a moment to ensure he was okay before making your way inside.

You couldn't wait to eat, you hadn't eaten anything in four hours and had been busy so you were starving. It was Marc's turn to cook tonight, he always had something new up his sleeve, he enjoyed cooking. He and Jake were much alike in that sense, not that poor Steven didn't try love him. Once you finally reached your floor, you unlock the door and unload your belongings in their rightful places, grateful to get your shoes off after being stood on them all day. It was 6 PM on the dot when you looked at the clock and your boyfriend was standing by the window of the living room, looking down at the scenery beneath you.

You smile and walk over, wrapping your arms around his surprisingly tense back after setting your coffee down on the living room table. You frown, wondering if something had happened, "hey baby." You whisper loud enough for him to hear, stroking the clothed skin of his back and sides. "That Justin that walked you?" Marc wondered, not making any move to reciprocate affection or turn to face you. You frown into his back, "Yes it was, why?" you question, sensing something wasn't right in his behaviour. Marc ignored your question as he turned around to finally face you, a look of something unreadable on his face.

His reply came with more annoyance and hostility than when he usually mentioned Justin, "I saw him with his arm wrapped around you, all smiles and holding you close." You sigh, pulling him closer with a small smile as you shake your head, "I was cold and didn't dress for the weather, that's all it was, nothing more baby." Grabbing the back of Marc's neck, you pull him down to connect your lips, tangling your fingers in his dark locks. You squeal into Marc's lips as he pushes you against the wall closest to you both, his hand going around your neck but not constricting your breathing. "You're mine, only mine," Marc growls with intent, tightening his grip on your neck just slightly.

You knew you shouldn't find this such a turn-on, this raw jealous possessiveness over you but damn you just couldn't help it when you felt your desire pool in your underwear, an involuntary moan escaping. Marc grabs your legs and lifts you, your body immediately tangling with his, wanting to be as close as possible. With tongues still exploring one another's mouths and hands pulling to remove each other's clothes, Marc carries you to the bedroom. Your back hits the soft mattress, and your boyfriend immediately climbs on top of you, not wanting to be away from you.

Marc pulls his shirt off, gracing your eyes with his beautifully scarred chest and back, you bite your lip as you touch his skin. You wanted him to know just how much you loved him and wanted no other, "god how did I get so lucky?" you whisper, pulling him down to kiss you once more. You often wondered what you did to deserve three amazing men in your life, gifting you with each of their amazing personalities and qualities that you adored. Your hands explore his skin with freedom as you grind against his crotch, feeling how hard he already was. Marc groaned into your mouth, his hips moving as needily as yours.

Marc pulls back enough to remove your shirt, throwing it on the floor with his. He groans as he sees you hadn't worn a bra today, his hands groping your breasts. You gasp as his fingers brush and play with your nipples, his eyes staring in wonder as they harden at the exposure of multiple sensations at once. Marc's lips attach to your left nipple, licking a stripe up the little nub before sucking gently. You throw your head back with an open mouth as electric jolts of pleasure pulse down to your core, ruining your underwear further. Marc's lips travel up your nipple to the soft flesh of your breast where he bites and sucks, the mix of pleasure from his fingers playing with your right nipple and the pain of his assault on your left breast was delicious. After a few moments, he works his way over to the other breast to repeat the process to mark the other.

As his lips kiss their way down your body to your waist, his fingers make quick work of removing your jeans and underwear. He pulls your remaining clothing down your legs, moving backwards down the bed at the same time to get off. You watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he discards his remaining clothing on the floor with yours. You smile as he returns on top of you, his face moving to connect with your core. Marc's tongue licked a stripe up your lips before working its way between to give your clit some attention. You cry out, finally feeling some relief of your swollen clit. Marc licked in upwards motions and sucked gently at the little nub, luckily not teasing you any further. His tongue stimulated your clit just the way you liked, each jolt of intense pleasure building the growing knot in your stomach.

"You like that baby?" Marc questions without moving his mouth away from your vagina. You nod frantically, "So good Marc." you knew each of your boys enjoyed hearing their name during sex, it made them individually feel acknowledged and special. Marc groans into your core at the mention of your nap, kitten licking you in between praises. "Look at me, who's making you feel this good?" he demanded softly, looking up at you, but not letting up on the stimulation of your clit. You lift your head to look down at him, almost coming at the sight of his dishevelled hair and swollen pink lips between your legs. You knew Marc and your other boys were possibly feeling a little insecure and jealous about the Justin thing so you wanted to squash any qualms they may have had about it. You moan, "You Marc. Only you, Steven, and Jake can ever make me feel this good and more. No one else."

He seems satisfied with your answer, his eyes flicking to the mirror in the corner of the room behind you, before turning to look back at you. "That's our girl." He dives back in but adds a finger into the mix, making you cry out instantly. The sounds of your juices filled the room obscenely, you were so wet that Marc could add a second finger quickly. It wasn't long before you could feel your orgasm approaching, the intense pleasure building at a rapid pace. "That's it, baby. Come for me." Marc groaned, pumping his fingers inside of you a little faster. You couldn't breathe properly as you approached your high, your body squirming to feel release. You scream loudly as you finally come crashing down, Marc working you through your high. He laps up everything you give him, not leaving one drop to go to waste before crawling up to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongue invades your mouth, making you moan. You allow your hand to wander down Marc's body, working between his clothing and skin and grabbing his cock. He groans into your mouth as your hand wraps around his cock and slowly begin pumping him, quickly working him into a breathless mess above you. "I love you so much, Marc. You're my everything." You whisper breathily, knowing he needed to hear those words from you to feel reassured. But not just for him, for Steven and Jake also, because you knew they were watching and listening intently right now. Marc presses his forehead against yours at your words, a smile forming on his face and a feral lust-filled look peering back at you.

Marc crashes his lips against yours feverishly, his hands exploring your body wildly but with intent. You rush to remove his remaining clothing, needing to feel his bare body on yours, skin on skin. You hear the soft thump of Marc's clothes hitting the floor alongside your own, allowing you to touch him fully now. Marc wastes no time removing your hand from his cock and lining himself up with your dripping awaiting hole, entering you with no issue, pain, or resistance. Having already prepped you beforehand perfectly. You both gasp as Marc enters you completely, his hips flush with your own. "Fuck baby, you're so tight and wet. Feel so good. Can I move?" He asks breathlessly as he stares directly into your eyes with the most amazing lustful yet loving look you had ever seen.

While biting your lip and staring back, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than for him to claim you in all ways he wanted to. He sets a slow pace to begin with, just to help you get used to it before he wrecked you, the ever-considerate boyfriend. It was passionate and mind-numbing, the way his cock slowly yet roughly dragged against your walls, his pelvic area rubbing directly on your clit and stimulating you perfectly. The feeling of Marc's hand gripping your face has you bringing your head back so you can look at him properly, that familiarly dark yet seductive look staring back at you. "Open up for me sweetheart," Marc instructed huskily, already knowing you understood and recognised what he was asking of you.

You open your mouth wide with your tongue sticking out, trying your best not to close your eyes as he continues to slowly fuck you. "Such a good girl for me, that's it, baby." Marc slowly and gently spits into your mouth, savouring the moment that does not happen often, only when he feels particularly possessive over you. "Swallow." You do as you are told, swallowing his saliva and sticking your tongue back out to show you had. The hand on your face moves up to your mouth and inserts two fingers into your mouth, "suck." He instructs, staring intensely as you wrap your lips around his fingers and begin sucking and licking. You moan loudly as Marc removes his fingers and replaces them on your clit instead, stimulating you as he fucked you.

"Oh fuck Marc!" You gasp, feeling the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach. The constant stimulation from his skin on your clit had already had you pushing to the limit, but his fingers were getting you off faster. "Come for me, baby." He groaned as he sped up both his movements, increasing your breathing tremendously. As quickly as it built, it released, your high hitting you like a train for the second time tonight. You scream in delight as Marc worked you through your high once again, now you were exhausted. Marc gives you a few minutes to recover, spending the time showering you with affection.

Marc takes this time to kiss your lips until they are red and swollen, and even then he did not let up. He littered your neck and shoulders with more marks, claiming your skin once more as his own. As if he were an artist painting his blank canvas with signature markings that told it was his work. Painting your skin in purple, red, and black bruises. When Marc asked if it was okay for him to continue and you agreed, he fucked you into a moaning mess. Each thrust was meticulous and targetted, aiming to provide you with as much pleasure as possible.

Marc's groaning sweaty figure above you was something to be marvelled at, he was truly insatiable and the definition of beauty. You felt utterly grateful and lucky that you were the one that got to call him, Steven, and Jake yours. With each thrust, yours and Marc's moans got louder, both becoming more and more needy for the other. As Marc tucked his head into the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging into his beautifully scarred skin, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close. You could feel that Marc was close by the way his thrusts got sloppy and slightly stiff.

Marc feels your walls tighten around his cock, "with me." Marc groans, placing his forehead against your own, breathing one another's air. You scream as the knot releases, exploding into multiple surges of pleasured fireworks that runs through your whole body. Marc groans loudly as he also finishes, his come painting the inside of your walls as he fucks you both through your highs. Marc collapses on top of you once you're both done, panting loudly. You lay with your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as your nails gently scratch Marc's bare back. His own fingers playing and tracing patterns on your own skin, often digging in a little now and again. You knew in times like this he just needed to be held and loved until he was ready to move or say something.

"I'm yours, forever and always. Nothing can change that." You whisper into his hair, one hand tangling gently into his damp curly locks and your lips placing a soft prolonged kiss onto the side of his forehead. Marc's arms tightened ever so slightly around your body and digs his head further into your neck, "thank you." He whispers into your sweaty skin, lips attaching to your neck regardless.

#Moon knight #marvel #marc spector #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #smut #fluff #moon boys #moon knight imagine #marc spector moon knight #marvel mcu

452 notes · View notes

kaminocasey · 1 year ago

Text

25 Days of Life Days: Day 6 - Making Fudge with Fox

Summary: You're horrible at cooking and baking, but Fox loves a good teaching moment.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Maybe slightly suggestive?

A/N: I actually followed this recipe for Strawberry fudge that you can find here. It looks really good if you're interested in making it! If you do, send pics! <3

“Oh… this is bad.” You make a face when you bite into the fudge.

“Face it, cyare… I’m just better than you.” Fox smirks down as he whisks the ingredients for this meiloorun fudge and pours it into a pan before putting it into the cooler.

It sounds disgusting, but somehow, and quite surprisingly you might add, turned out incredible. Unfortunately, the batch you made turned out terrible. And you need about six more pans of this for your Life Day party tomorrow night.

“You knew when you married me, I couldn’t bake or cook.” You shrug, pouring the mix into the trash.

He chuckles, pulling you by your hips closer to him. “I did know that, and I find it just as endearing now as I did back then.”

“Liar.” You grin.

“I am no such thing. Now…” Fox spins you around so that you’re facing a new small bowl. “You’re gonna listen to me while I instruct you how to make this fudge.”

“Am I?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t be a brat. Focus.” You can hear the smirk in his tone.

“Yes, sir.” You tease.

He places an arm on the counter so that you’re caged in and you find it hard to focus on anything but the warmth of your husband’s body against yours.

“Take the meiloorun extract and mix it with the pink dye.” He instructs, his commander's voice slipping through.

He knows what his commander's voice does to you. How are you supposed to focus now? But you do as he says, and pour the meiloorun extract with the pretty pink dye you picked out, stirring it until it has the right pink consistency. It didn’t have to be pink but your theme for the party is ‘Pink Life Day’ to which the other Corries apparently gave Fox a good teasing about.

“Good girl.” Fox murmurs, making you look up at him wide-eyed.

His smirk never leaves his face as he twists you so that you’re facing the saucepan on the stove. He hands you the butter, heavy cream, and vanilla flavoring to melt together.

“Now, add the sugar and keep stirring until it comes to a simmer.” His left hand wraps low down around your waist while his right hand helps guide your own while stirring.

It’s actually really cute. It’s been a few weeks since you’d gotten this kind of time together.

“Good.” He approves, removing the pan from the burner and then tossing in the white baking chips, stirring it a bit, and then covering it.

It should probably be embarrassing how much you crave his praise, even after being married for two years.

“Now we wait for three to four minutes.” He tells you, pushing you back against the counter away from the heat of the stove and cages you in again.

“I could think of something to do for three to four minutes.” You tease.

He playfully brushes your nose with his. “Behave.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

His playful smile turns soft, admiration for you clear in his eyes. Even on the days that you don’t see each other, you know that your love for each other could never be questioned. You truly are happy. And even if he works ungodly hours, he is too.

“I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, cyar’ika.” He brushes his lips over yours.

You stand there catching up on your day, still comfortable in your embracement, until it's time to add the marshmallow fluff.

“Okay now pour about three-fourths of the fudge into this pan.” He places the lined pan in front of you for you to pour the fudge into. “And then, we’ll take the last fourth and add the meiloorun extract in.”

You do as he says and then he shows you how to make the swirly patterns he did for the last two batches. He makes it look so easy but your half comes out more curly than swirly.

“It’s perfect. I promise.” He tilts your chin up toward him when you start to look slightly discouraged.

“Thanks.” You sigh.

“And if any of my vod give you osik about it, I’ll put them on fresher duty for the rest of the year.” He shrugs, smirking.

Your chest clenches in the way it does when he gets even remotely protective of you. You truly couldn’t ask for a better husband. They just couldn’t exist.

“Tomorrow will be perfect… As long as we get to be together.” He kisses you once more before putting the fudge into the cooler.

And he’s right. Because that’s what Life Day’s really about.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#25 Days of Life Day #25 Days of Life Day 2023 #Commander Fox #Commander Fox x reader #tcw fox x reader

93 notes · View notes

bibibbon · 3 months ago

Note

you know, something I've realized is that toga is probably my least favorite member of the lov main 6 because even from the start, unlike characters such spinner or dabi, she just wanted to hurt people( and by start i mean when we first meet her) at least orther members of the league wanted acceptance and revenge against corrupt heros. Toga just seems to have entirely self centered goals of maiming, killing, and sexualling assaulting whoever she wants. This gets worse after twices death, where reveals herself to be a hypocrite that cant even stand by her own principles. Hyprocrisy to me only works for characters who your supposed to detest and see them get their comeuppance or be proven wrong. Toga ends up dying a martyr who gets showered with compliments by ochaco and never once had an once of regret for her actions. So tell me, why feel sympathy for her now? Because she has a sad backstory? That doesnt make a character sympathetic if their intentions are objectively cruel and self centered. I'm sorry if I sound more aggresive then usual, but I've grown to detest toga that much. Like, shes the only league member I was itching to punch in the face.

Hi @suchusoid 👋

I am assuming you're talking about toga's first impression in the series, which definitely may lead to this conclusion of her wanting to hurt people just because. However, I think that Toga does have similar goals to other league members, but she expresses them differently which can cause for this type of reaction.

A perfect example of this is when we first meet her in chapter 68. Hori makes it clear that her and Dabi are both introduced as having very similar beliefs of being inspired by Stain however, toga's wording towards this is incredibly different to Dabi's which I think causes different interpretations for both characters.

Toga's own wording of why she would like to join starts by prioritising herself and talking about herself which is a really interesting aspect of her because when we go back to her backstory her own desires were put on the back burner so she can fit in and conform to a society that never really accepted her. Toga's own wording also genuinely foreshadows a lot of aspects of her characters like wanting to be like the people she admires and presenting or foreshadowing a little hypocrisy that she has complaining that life is hard and then putting herself and others through various ordeals which is so ironic and intersting in my opinion.

This is then contrasted to the second introduction, which is dabi. Dabi's introduction is a lot more about goals of making society 'better' as he sees it by implementing the hero killers' goals than about the introduction being about himself. Dabi isn't his real name, and he seems to truly not care about having an identity here but simply craves and actively seeks to radically change society sick of the corruption that he has seen and lived through.

I think that Toga's arc does have some problems when it comes to the writing, especially with how horikoshi chooses to handle her big break in the training camp arc where he obviously paints her as an obsessive freak who in the end kinda low-key just gets used to push ochako into recognising her romantic feelings for a ship that has no development?!?!

Toga's character has always been about love, meaning that her character arc would centre a lot more around her. The way she expresses herself isn't supposed to be particularly healthy or viewed as such but it's supposed to be questionable and we are supposed to try and understand where she is coming from which can be difficult from the sometimes very inconsistent behaviour she has shown. For example, her relationship with love and blood seems to be different when she is with the league and when she is with ochako or izuku.

One of my main problems, which is something that you have stated, is that hori paints toga as a hypocrite that is something very clear within the story, yet he doesn't do much with that. He never actively tries to criticise that or to add layers of her character where maybe she needs to find a bridge between loving the way she wants to and respecting boundaries of not needing people's blood to love them and become them.

Ultimately, it is an interesting dilemma presented with toga's character where the reason she does want blood is because she can't really be herself and believes that the way to love them is to become them or essentially imprint yourself onto them.

Personally, to me, toga is the most interesting, but I think that the hypocrisy aspect of her character is done horrendously to the point that it becomes quite annoying. I think due to her young age and the symbolism that her character holds, she is definitely one of my favourite league members, and I think she is more developed than other members, which is saying a lot.

#mha #bnha #thanks for the ask #thanks for the ask!#mha critical #bnha critical #kinda ?!?!#bhna critical #toga himiko

13 notes · View notes

sforzie · 1 year ago

Text

I woke up and my brain chose violence Raphael. So have some unedited Tav/Raphael words.

(Female tiefling Tav and Raphael. SFW at present.)

____

“I want to make a deal with you,” she says. Raphael peers down at her, curiosity piqued by the serious look in her luminous blue eyes. The adventurer’s look is so serious that he can already start picking out the words for her contract in his mind.

“Go on, little mouse. Tell me your desire.”

“Make me your queen. I wish for the power of the Hells, to kneel at your feet and serve. To smite your enemies and warm your bed.”

Surely she must be messing with him. Either that or he has dozed off and this is naught but some fantasy playing out in his weary mind.

“Why would you wish for such a thing?”

A smirk plays on her lips, and he is aware of the long line of her gray tail curling behind her, like that of a cat excited to see its prey. That’s not how it works, is it? He is the cat, and she is naught but the mortal little mouse that is willingly standing within striking distance of his claws.

“A means to an end. They always said I was too ambitious for my own good.” She twists a length of her hair around her fingers in a coy motion that is definitely a practiced act, and looking at her long, sharp, black nails he cannot help but think this mouse already has claws of its own.

While he ponders his response, she continues: “That is what you deal in, yes? Means to ends? Someone gets what they want, and you get what you want from them–a soul, a bauble, a bit of power and influence. You don’t do anything without being certain that you will profit from it.”

“Clever little mouse,” he murmurs. “Though I would hardly call the Crown of Karsus a bauble.”

She shrugs, a delicate, precise movement.

“You have already given me that which I have craved and sought for centuries, in exchange for the ability to save your little world. That transaction is complete. Why do you think I would consider another contract, another deal? What could you possibly have to offer that might interest me?”

The smirk lingers again. She already looks the part of an infernal queen, he thinks, thanks to her tiefling nature. Her horns curve long and black and elegant from her brow, her poise is confident despite standing in the presence of a cambion–indeed, for all the world she has the swagger of a wingless fiend. He can feel the heat of the Hells infused in her blood, as surely as his own. She is confident in her belief that he will take her offer.

Raphael is tempted, even without hearing her counteroffer.

Again, he asks: “What would I get in return for the twisted power that you crave?”

“Me.”

He frowns, hoping to mask the little excited thrill that shoots its way down his chest and straight south past his abdomen.

“You are the hero of Baldur’s Gate, of the Sword Coast. You can already have everything you want there. Why ask to serve me, instead?”

“Perhaps the tadpole left too many holes in my head,” she says, coy once more. “Or perhaps I simply know what I want. What I have wanted since you first interrupted my travels.” The points of her nails dance feather light over the line of his jaw. Raphael sneers for show.

“And, what makes you think I would even consider your request? What makes you think that it would hold even the slightest interest to one such as I? You have already given me the Crown; I have no further need for you.”

She whispers: “Because you are a lonely man, Raphael. You will soon find that it is only lonelier at the top, no matter how much you love yourself.”

He wants to step away, to move away from the range of her stare, but he does not desire to concede any ground to her. Instead he presses a palm to her shoulder and gives her a relatively gentle shove away. Her look is unchanged, unperturbed by his action.

“I am a busy man, little mouse. Soon to be busier, thanks to my acquisition of the Crown. I will have to put your offer on the back burner until I have time to give it some proper consideration.”

“I would not wait too terribly long, Raphael. You know how fickle a woman’s heart can be.”

He swallows, thinking. The hero of Baldur’s Gate could be a valuable asset to have as he works to unite the Hells–and perhaps beyond. Better perhaps to make an ally of her now, then have to worry about her stirring up trouble later. Still, he is uncertain.

He does not like this uncertainty.

“You do not even entirely know what you ask for,” he says. “You wish to be the lady of a house you do not know.” Raphael produces a golden key with obsidian teeth and holds it out in his palm. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“A key, obviously. Do not be a simpleton.” He sneers at her. “This key will turn any door you use it on into a temporary portal to the House of Hope. The portal will accept only you as its guest, and the key will incinerate the hand of anyone else who tries to touch it.”

She peers at the key. “And, what is the catch?”

“No catch. You may use it to acquaint yourself with the House, to see if it is truly where you wish to spend eternity. Should you change your mind, you need only return the key to me, and this talk of contracts will be off. No strings, no catch.”

After another long moment of consideration, she takes the key from his hand.

“Suit yourself.”

Nearly a moon cycles past before she uses the key.

Raphael is lounging on his bed, relaxing after a foray into one of the other Hells, when he becomes aware of the key being used. He is aware of the portal from Baldur’s Gate admitting her into the House of Hope’s portal room.

He does not get up to greet her, nor does he make any immediate move to see what she is up to. Raphael continues to idle in bed, wondering how long it will be before the portal marks her departure.

He dozes off.

“Your guest is still awaiting your attention, Master,” Haarlep notes when Raphael wakes from his nap.

“She did not leave?”

“Nay. I believe she is in the Archives. Has been for a few hours.”

He frowns. What could she possibly be doing in there? Searching for some relic to pocket? Looking for mischief to cause, as adventurers are ever wont?

Raphael dresses and makes his way unhurriedly to the Archives.

He is not sure exactly what he is expecting when he arrives–chaos, the Archivist in pieces, perhaps–but it is certainly not what he finds.

She is seated at a small table. The Archivist sits in the adjacent chair, and is talking with quiet animation as he gestures at a scroll that is unwound across the table top and onto the floor.

“What are you doing here, little mouse?” he barks across the room. The Archivist jolts in his seat and scrambles to his feet, offering a bow to the master of the house. She does not move from her seat.

“Learning all your secrets, of course,” is her flippant reply. Raphael scowls.

“I did not give you the key so that you might–”

“M-Master, pardon my interruption, but the Lady was not causing any trouble,” the Archivist cuts in. He resists the urge to reduce the man to cinders–he is too useful–and settles instead for impaling him with a glare.

“What then?”

“Your Archivist was merely indulging my curiosity,” she says. “He clearly puts in a great deal of work for you, making sure that every object in your impressive collection is properly cataloged and registered and accounted for in the proper legalese.”

“You made your way to the House of Hope and just…” Raphael gestures at the scroll, hoping that his tone is not too marred by incredulity. “Looked at paperwork?”

She gives a disinterested shrug. “Haarlep said you were taking a nap and not to be disturbed.”

“You spoke with Haarlep?”

She nods.

“And they didn’t try to fuck you?”

There is something undeniably charming to the way her eyes squint when she laughs. “Oh, they did. Said that they could give me something to help ‘fill my time’ while waiting for you.”

Haarlep hadn’t seemed any more smug than usual when he had roused from his dreamless slumber, so Raphael took that as meaning they hadn’t had any success with his guest.

“I told them that if I wanted to fuck someone who looked like you, I would wait to do the real thing.” She chuckles. “They told me good luck. You only like to fuck yourself.”

He makes a mental note to smite the incubus later. “Shall I take that to mean that you’ve no interest in me carnally?”

She shrugs.

Raphael doesn’t know what to do with the woman. She has already charmed his arguably broody Archivist and turned down Haarlep, all whilst he was peacefully taking a nap.

“Well,” he says, supposing that he should be the proper gentleman of the house. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, dear mouse. Might I offer you a tour? A drink? A virgin sacrifice?”

Her lips slowly pull into a smile. “Tea would be a lovely start.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #Tav x Raphael #tiefling tav #tav bg3 #female tav #bg3 gray queen AU

55 notes · View notes

lexa-griffins · 11 months ago

Note

"I'm not yours anymore" for the fic title

Oh!!!!!!!!

This... this title right here works SO well for the type of fic i crave despite being angsty enough where i probably couldn't either write it or read it without getting mad.

Lexa and Clarke, college sweethearts. Long engagement. Lexa works long hours at the office since Clarle recently realized medicine wasn't her passion and decided to take a job that pays less but lets her have the chance to take a few random classes to see what she wants.

It comes crumbling down from there. They have put the wedding at the back burner for now as they try to remain afloat. Clarke, who spent her college years so focused on her studies now has the freedom to enjoy the little pieces of college life she missed on and she does. While Lexa works and worries, Clarke goes out to drink with kids nearly a decade younger than her. She goes out more and more often. She starts leaving her engagement ring at home.

Lexa tries to be understanding and supportive. That's all she ever is. In every aspect of their life. She gets it when Clarke is done after Lexa made her cum and doesn't feel like giving back. She gets it when she is tired from work and classes and neglects the housework allocated to her. She gets it when she prefers to spend more time on her phone than with her.

Lexa gets it... but she is reaching the end of her rope. They are grown adults. With jobs and rent to pay and a wedding to plan and a life to build together. But Clarke seems suddenly so desinterested in all of that. Drinking, going out and spend her days glued to her phone seem to be much more important to her and one day, when she comes home and Clarke is /still/ passed out in bed after coming home at 5 am, she finds her phone, just standing there.

Lexa wasn't suspicious of anything. She just wants to understand what these 21 yo state college kids could possibly have to say to her fiancee that make her forget Lexa exists.

Flirting. Heavy flirting.

Nothing indicates it has gone beyond that, but not only does Clarke flirt harder than she ever did with Lexa, there is never any mention of Lexa's existence at all.

She packs a bag and leaves. And it takes Clarke until the next day to even think to call her, asking where she is. No concern, no worry. Just a demand of knowing her whereabouts.

Did Lexa imagine the love between them? Did she make up every sweet gesture Clarke delivered to her up until she quit her job and regressed back to a drunk college girl?

The breakup is direct and somehow seems to take Clarke by surprise. But Lexa doesn't budge. And a month later, the apartment they shared is nearly empty from years spent together.

Or sucks it takes Lexa leaving for Clarke too realize what she lost. It takes Clarke a year to get back on her feet after realizing Lexa is not coming back. She fucked up, she realizes that now. She cuts contact and finishes her classes. She manages a stable, slightly better paying job. And then she moves, away from memories of a life she herself destroyed.

She regrets it only nearly 3 years later. A small girl, no older than 2. Bright eyes and a sweet smile, trying to reach a cereal box on the shelf. Clarke helps her with a smile and the little girl thanks her. And right then, she hears her voice again. Still tired but happy, so unlike the way her voice sounded during their last talk, when Clarke still begged her she would change and Lexa told her it was too late before driving away.

A grocery car filled with kid's snacks and veggies. Diapers and a few kids' books. She seems lighter. The darkness under her eyes is not as pronounced. Her cheeks are fuller and so is she. The last time they cuddle Clarke still remembers how she could feel her hip bone. She said nothing, too hangover to even think of words that didn't sound like she was telling her to gain weight.

She ignores the bump. The wedding ring. The hickey on her neck.

Lexa calls out the little girl's name again. The girl turns to her and smiles, telling her mom about the nice lady who helped her get her cereal.

Clarke stands awkwardly as Lexa's eyes move towards her and a swirl of emotions pass by her face.

Clarke wants to say something. Apologize once more. Beg her to come back to her. How miserable as her life been without Lexa's smile in the morning?

Instead, she remains silent once more. And Lexa nods, as if to thank her for it.

"Have you said thank you to the nice lady?"

The little girl turns, "Thank you!"

Her voice seems trapped in her throat but Clarke manages to speak up as kindly as she can manage, "You're welcome."

"C'mon, mama is waiting for us." Lexa speaks softly to her daughter and Clarke does nothing more than look at them leave, seeming so final this time around, as Lexa spares her one last glance before disappearing behind the shelves.

They never talked about kids. It had been nearly a year by the time they broke up since they talked about the wedding. She wonders if this would have been them now if Clarke hadn't decided having fun was more important than the life she was building. If during those three years she had called and explained herself and asked them to start again.

She didnt tho. And no matter how many what ifs, the last thing Lexa told her before she finally left her life three years ago echoes in her mind.

"Im not yours anymore, Clarke."

#letter opened #sorry this is angst no happy ending #but it also isnt very good so it balances it out 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣#in my mind that last part is a dream and Clarke wakes up in bed with Lexa realizing where her life is headed towards #and apologizes and they get married and have their babies together😌

25 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Meet Pietro

This happened entirely by chance! lol After writing Pietro & Azul last night, I've decided, the Carricks are absolutely getting a kitty! Here's a little backstory and some details about him.

Casey & Tobias both had cats in the past and discussed getting one together.

Tobias was more inclined to get a dog. He liked cats, but he had more sibling Rivalry with his mother's prized Persian, Lady, than he ever did with his brother. He definitely had some jealousy issues to work out.

But Casey insisted they had no time for a dog, not with their busy careers, then a surprise pregnancy to boot, so the idea of a pet was put on the back burner.

Still, they waffled. Sometimes Casey was the one with pet fever, sometimes Tobias. But when Sammy came along, they both agreed they'd wait.

Then one day, Tobias came home with this little guy snuggled in his jacket. A friend's cat had kittens, and she posted his picture on Instagram, saying he was the last one who needed a home. Tobias messaged her and said he'd pick it up after work. Casey had no idea.

He told Casey the clincher was the kitten's eyes... he swore they were the same color blue as Casey's, and he knew that meant they had to adopt him. (Yes, Tobias is that whipped.)

Casey said he was insane and insisted Tobias wanted to balance out the male/female ratio in the house now that she and Sammy had overtaken his former bachelor pad. (Poor man had no idea two more little girls were on the way - they were not to be defeated!)

They named him Pietro after one of Casey's favorite pizza places in Philadelphia. When she was pregnant with Sammy, she craved it all the time, and Tobias always figured out ways to get it for her. He did it because he loved his wife, but he loved the pizza, too. They joked that if the baby was a boy, they would name him Pietro.

Sammy was very little when he came along, but she always loved him. She liked him better than her little sister, Brooke, at first.

Everyone loves Pietro except Jackie. She likes him, but they have some beef. lol Pietro is very bonded with Tobias but abandons him for his mother, Vivian, whenever she visits. This drives Tobias insane.

Pietro is a Balinese cat. He is very loving, affectionate (when he wants to be), and playful. He does get into some mischief (and you'll see more of that), but he is a very loved member of the Carrick family. :)

Just tagging some of my T/C regulars (and cat fans) since you'll be seeing more of Pietro. :)

@secretaryunpaid @liaromancewriter @trappedinfanfiction @storyofmychoices @kyra75 @icecoffee90 @coffeeheartaddict2

@stars-are-within-me and @dr-colossal-pita are getting tagged strictly for cat content lol

#tobias x casey #pietro #pietro the cat #meet my oc - original cat lol

33 notes · View notes

bronx-bomber87 · 2 years ago

Text

Mid week Review :) The amazing hits keep coming in S2. Another goodie for them. Hard to believe we have 9 eps left in this season after this one. Such a rock solid season for them. Let's get started.

2x13 Follow-Up Day

We first find our lovely couple pre-roll call. Smitty is celebrating his last day as ‘Mr. Irrelevant’ He scored so low he’ll never get promoted. Honestly most depressing thing I’ve ever heard... but it’s Smitty. So he’s rolling with it like we all would expect him to. The scores are going to be posted soon. Meaning Tim will get to know where he ranks as well. (Tim is all smiles while they’re talking btw. It’s pretty cute.)

You can see Lucy is so excited for him to get them. Supportive and proud wifey reporting for duty. All she can see is the light at the end of tunnel for him. She knows he crushed it. Tim on the other hand looks nervous af about these results. You can sense how edgy he is in that last gif. Lucy is her sunshine self for him regardless. His encouraging cheerleader. Her default mode for him. Her pride for him is just gushing out of her.

Tim being Tim can’t handle the support. So naturally he pushes away when she does it. Instead of thanking Lucy for her support he deflects it. Says 'No doubt' and nothing more. Leaving Lucy a little baffled. Has to leave before she sees the affect her support has on him. I get Tim’s reaction I really do. It seems like he's being rude when really he can't fathom it. When you’re not given words of affirmation or support growing up, it’s so damn foreign to receive it.

Her support means so much and he craves it yet he can’t actually process or handle it. I relate to this all to well. He's still not used to having someone in his corner consistently like Lucy is for him. Always showing up. It's so nice you almost can't trust it. It sounds insane but it's true. Deep down you need it and want it. But when you get it you push it away or down play it. Just like Tim did in this scene. Good thing our girl is relentless. Our never ending cheerleader for him. Sees past his rough spots and loves on him more for it. Ugh I love them.

In roll call they’re all assigned follow up cases that are about to be put on the back burner. Hence the name of the episode. Tim and Lucy get assigned a house break in. No prints or DNA. It's for a man named Nevin Cooper. Former gang member. They arrive at his donut shop and ask to see him. (Side note I'll never be over how he ALWAYS opens the door for her. Chivalry does it for me.) The eye contact she gives him when he does it too my goodness. But I digress ha Sasha his GF is instantly tense at their presence. Asking if she can help with something? Before they can answer they hear a noise and head back.

They find Nevin talking to the new head of his former gang. Tim immediately tries to square up with this guy. Tells him he’s the one who put his former boss in jail. Tim doesn't waste much time and asks if he’s the new leader? Marquel quotes Shakespeare as his answer. Lucy can't help but comment on this. Marquel softens a bit says she’s smart for a cop. Tim does intimidation and Lucy tries to build rapport with Shakespearian knowledge LOL Yin and Yang.

They’re clearly giving him grief for leaving the gang post jail. Mad he's trying to go straight. Tim and Lucy are able to scare Marquel off for now. Nevin is evasive with them after they go. He won’t admit to anything. Apparently Sasha called them not him. Tim knows they're not going to get much more out of him so they leave. Tim knows Marquel is sweating Nevin. He just can’t prove that or him breaking into his house just yet.

They make it back to station and Lucy starts asking how the results work. Clearly the only thing on her mind is his exam. It’s adorable. She asks him if he gets the stripes right away? Tim tells her passing the test is just the first step. You only get promoted once a spot opens up. So that’s why his ranking is so important.

If he makes it to the top of the list could take him a month or two. Lets her know the lower you are on the list the longer it takes. Says for some they’ll never get a shot. I.e. Smitty. Can see why he’s so damn stressed about the whole thing. Just passing isn’t guaranteeing anything. Tells her if nothing comes up he has to wait 2 more years to take the exam again. I love how intently she listens to him. Look at her absorbing everything he's saying.

Grey comes up to them says Nevin has been assaulted. Lucy says that’s crazy they just saw him. Tim says Marquel must’ve double backed after they left. It’s landed him in the hospital. They know he won’t talk to them. So they try their luck with Sasha. She is upset he got hurt cause they showed up. Tells them they had to make sure Nevin wasn’t snitching. Lucy says snitching about what? She balks and clams up just like he did.

Then Tim steps in with a damn good mini speech above. He’s not wrong. This guy is relentless. A predator. He’s not going down without a fight. She gives in and says they’re trying to pressure Nevin into laundering drug money for them. Gave him only 24 hours to decide. Lucy asks if they can arrest Marquel for assault? He says no it’ll only incite the gang. They’ll end up killing them. Lucy asks him what they’re gonna do? He looks stumped. Says he doesn’t know…

They go to Grey for some guidance about what their next move is. His answer doesn't appeal to them either. He mentions making him a CI dragging him back into the life. Wrapping up Marquel's crew that way. Lucy isn't on board for this. Says he's trying to get out of the life not get thrust back into it. Grey uses this hard decision as his segue into his Sergeant results. I love Tim darting his eyes at Lucy first when he asks about the scores. *heart clutch*. He's nervous for himself but also nervous he tanked it and she'll know he did. He doesn't want to let her down. She helped him so much.

Lucy goes from upset about Nevin to radiant proud wifey when she hears the news. Tim looks so very relieved. Reserved but relieved. The Tim Bradford way haha Lucy voicing her excitement is too damn cute. Just spews out of her like word vomit. He looks at her like 'Not in front of Grey' LOL Wade’s face is too damn funny. Not subtle in the least Lucy. I know in S5 when Tim came to him about them dating he wasn’t shocked in the least. They’d been emotionally dating for YEARS before they were official. He had a front row seat for a long time.

Lucy gets his silent communication message loud and clear. She tries her best to rein it in like the cute human she is. Bring it back to a 'professional' setting in front of Grey. Says 'Congratulations Sergeant Bradford' with heart eyes x 1000 ❤️ Subtle as a hammer Lucy. Didn't scale that back like she think she did. I love her so much. She sure tired haha

It’s then the scene takes a turn for them both. Grey tells him there’s an opening in North Hollywood. Captain owes him a favor. He could start in two weeks. They’re both stunned. You can see it on their faces. Lucy thinks there is now way in hell he’s going to pass up this opportunity for her. So her sadness is she thinks she's going to lose him to this. Tim however is immediately hesitant about the quick turnaround. Lucy of course doesn’t want him to go. It’s evident Tim doesn’t either. Another tough decision ahead for our boy it would seem. Stay or go and get everything he’s been working hard for?

The next day rolls around and Tim decides to take a run a Marquel. Trying to appeal to him to let Nevin go. That he gave a decade of his life to them. Took the fall like a good soldier. Lucy even quotes Othello like the BAMF she is. Trying to persuade him to their side. Using their Shakespeare rapport from the other day. It fails. Do love her trying with Shakespeare though haha Had to take her shot.

Lucy asks what they do next? Ready for his next plan. Tim says he doesn’t know. They made their play and failed. Then our girl does what she does best. Challenges him. Says she never thought she’d see the day he gives up. She did once call him the DEAR method incarnate. Reminds him he is the king of subversive tests and tricks. No way this is the end of the road for them about this.

That there has to be someway for them to win coming at this sideways. What I love about this scene is yes she challenges him, but also builds him up while she’s doing that. Encouraging him to be more creative about this. That he has it in him to win this fight. That he just needs to allow himself some space to work it out. Such a damn good partner to him in more ways than one. Love his face in the second gif above. Ready to go back into battle over this because of her.

He told her she has no quit in her. That applies to him as well. This moment is absolute undeniable proof of that. This scene right here is one of the reasons he stays at Mid Wilshire. The impact she has on him. How she lights a fire under him like no one else ever has. She’s the whole reason he's staying really but this scene is a facet of why she’s the reason. A reminder and the moment he makes his decision. Not just about this situation but about his career. It’s more valuable for him to keep what they have than to leave for that promotion.

We find out Tim’s out of the box plan. To turn Nevin's donut shop into a cop hang out. No way he’ll launder money there now. It's brilliant. Lucy commends him on his great plan and make sure he knows how genius it was. Then tells him with sadness in her eyes North Hollywood is lucky to have a sergeant like him. Tim squashes that sadness and lets her know he isn't going to move up yet. He seems really excited to tell her that he is staying. It's pretty cute.

Lucy is clearly thrilled when Tim reveals he’s not taking it. She of course isn’t going to assume it because of her. So she makes a joke and ask if he’s waiting on Malibu then? Oh Tim has rubbed off on her too. Deflecting through humor. Then Tim says that iconic line of his about finishing what he starts. With far more affection and heart eyes than I’m sure is needed. But hell we’re gonna lap that up all damn day.

Their looks are so incredibly telling. Basically saying exactly how they’re feeling while dancing around it at the same time. Once again you forget he’s dating one of her closest friends this season. The amount of emotional rapport being built in S2 is mind blowing and beautiful to behold.

She wouldn’t be Lucy if she didn’t give him a little crap though. Saying he better move up at some point. That those books on tape took her a long time LOL Her labor of love for him is what those were. His is he chose Lucy over furthering his career. (This won't be the last time he does this either) He wasn’t ready to leave her. This is such a big thing for him to do. I don't think he even realizes how big this is. Wouldn’t have done this for any other rookie. But Lucy is forever the exception for Tim. He values their bond and connection far too much to give that up. He can’t tell her that but actions speak louder than words. And his are SCREAMING.

The smile he reserves only for her comes out after her little jab. You know he loves it when she gives him a hard time. He says ‘Yeah’ then they are in literal lock step after that. Just look at them. Their body chemistry without even touching is out of this world. Looks like she wants to touch him with some playful pushing but holds back on that last gif. Easy you two your massive feelings that are growing by the ep are showing. Damn they cute I can’t get over it ha So ends another wonderful s2 episode for them.

Side notes-non chenford

Did enjoy Nolan’s SL with Pete coming into the picture for first time. Always funny. Harper being funny in this one as well.

Wopez had a good SL as well with his mom. Enjoyed it.

Thank you all for your continued support, likes/reblogs. They fuel my reviews so very much. You’re the best :) see you all in 2x14

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #summer rewatch #waiting on s6 #s2 #2x13 Follow-Up Day #The rookie 2x13 #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #otp: you know me so well. too well.#tim bradford x lucy chen

66 notes · View notes