#he also had a bath towel robe

[skyburger]

im probably never gonna watch the kenobi series but i did just find out there was a qui-gon scene so i went to find that. it was awesome btw i have a soft spot for qui-gon. but then in the recommended i saw it... vader vs. obi-wan in that series and i watched it and

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟭𝟳: ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Let me take care of you. | pt. 2

Read Part One before!

Short summary: After the encounter in the Prefect’s Bathroom, you two decide to meet again. Will this night change everything between you two?

Warnings: 18+ only! virgin!reader, loss of virginity, soft sex

A/N: Sorry this took so long but I am working on a whole Tom fanfic on Wattpad and AO3 so that also keeps me busy. Plus school is stressing me tf out. On another note, I am kinda proud of this one hehe. Feel free to leave feedback!! <3

wordcount: 2,2k

“Let’s get us dry now, hm?” Tom encouraged, shifting his position to sit upright. You protested, furrowing your eyebrows. “Wanna stay here with you, please.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” He shook his head slightly, grinning. “Meet me in my dorm later today? You have the entire night to cuddle with the best student of Hogwarts.”

You abruptly sat up, playfully smacking his bare chest. “I can’t believe you, Riddle!”

He was right, though, about the getting out of the bath part at least. The water in the bathtub had cooled down and you started to feel quite cold, despite the close body contact with the brunette.

Just after you stood up, water droplets dripping down your naked body, you realized you were now standing right in front of Tom, who was still sat against the bathtub, your exposed self on full display.

His eyes, first glued to yours, were now steadily trailing downwards, his piercing gaze sending shivers down your spine. Yes, of course he had pretty much touched every part he was now slowly taking in, though how your curves looked was left up to his imagination. Well, until now at least.

Instinctively, you tried covering yourself with your hands, but Tom was quick to stop you.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me, pretty girl. You look absolutely stunning, even better than I had ever imagined.” His lips met your lower sternum, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses all over your tummy. Your hands gripped his brunette locks, sweet little moans escaping your parted lips as you closed your eyes at the sensation. Tom placed one more kiss on the mound of your cunt, making you giggle, slightly tugging on his hair to warn him.

“You have thought of me like this?” You gasped, as he continued kissing down your thighs. He then paused, meeting your surprised expression with his lust filled eyes. Finally, he stood up as well, his taller figure towering over you.

He caressed the back of your head, and leaned in, finally closing the gap between the both of you.

“Every.” kiss “Single.” kiss “Day.” kiss.

His words made you blush, now thinking of what he might have been doing while imagining you all naked in front of him.

Suddenly, you felt his touch on the back of your knees, lifting you into his arms. You squealed at the swift motion, and Tom carried you out of the tub.

He then grabbed a towel you had already prepared beforehand and dried you up, with tenderness you couldn’t even have fathomed.

“You do this often?” You asked him teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Just admit I am good at taking care of the birthday girl.”

Arrogant bastard, you thought.

“I hate you”

“You don’t, princess.”

“What did you just call me?”

In the meanwhile, Tom had started getting dressed, ignoring your question.

“Don’t ever call me that again, Riddle.” By the time you realized you should probably get dressed as well, Tom was already done. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day. Or do you need help putting on clothes as well?” He grinned, walking over to you.

A blush formed on your cheeks, bending down to fetch your robes.

Smack.

You yelped, turning around to meet Tom’s amused expression. “You did not!” You exclaimed.

“Turn around so I can do it again.” The brunette said, a smug grin on his face. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Out, Riddle. Leave!” You demanded, shaking your head.

“Want a goodbye kiss, please.” He leaned in, but you turned your head to the side. “Be nice if you want a kiss.” Tom laughed. “Tom Riddle doesn’t have to be nice to get what he wants, princess.”

“Not with me.” You giggled.

“Alright. Going to be nice.”

“Good.” You let him have his goodbye kiss in the end.

“Now get dressed. If anyone sees you like this I might have to kill them. See you later tonight.” He winked at you and with that, he left.

As soon as the door closed behind the brunette, you exhaled sharply. You did not just do all of that with the boy you were meant to hate, right?

The rest of the afternoon you spent reading a book your parents had gotten you for your last year at Hogwarts. It had just turned 8pm when you got ready to head to Tom’s dorm, about to meet him again.

You knocked on his door and could already feel your heart thumping in your chest. Why were you that nervous?

He opened the door, smirking when he saw it was you. “Come in.” His dorm was quite spacious, the other boys being out for Christmas as well. It was getting dark, and the Slytherin house being located under the ground did not help the case. Thus, he had a few candles lit, giving the room a cozy feeling. He seemed to even have prepared, putting up some more cushions and blankets on his bed. The scent of his perfume lingered in the air, drawing your attention back to the brunette in front of you.

“I got you something. It’s not much but I hoped you would like it” He got a bouquet of flowers from his nightstand, handing them to you.

“Tom you did not have to get me anything.” You whispered, taking in the pretty flowers he had gifted you.

“It’s your birthday.” He stated, and you closed the gap between you two, capturing him in a passionate kiss. “Thank you, I appreciate it a lot.”

He just smiled and kissed you again, finding your waist to guide you two towards the bed, so you were now sitting on his lap on the edge of his bed, making out with him. Your hand trailed up his back, until they found his brunette curls, playing with them.

As the kiss got more heated, Tom’s hands found their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts under the burgundy red lace bra you were wearing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you both took a moment to catch your breath. He tugged on the fabric of your shirt, his fingers playing with its top button. “Take it off?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You knew where this would lead and couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of anxiety form in your stomach. It’s not like you did not want to, but the thought of it still made you nervous.

“Tom”

“Hmm?”

“I have never- uh - done this before.” Your face heated up, and you lowered your head. “No?” He asked, his hand caressing your cheek. When you only nodded, he kissed you again, softly this time. “I didn’t mean to rush you into anything. If you aren’t comfortable yet, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

You shook your head. “No, I do want to. Please.”

Slowly, you took off your top, and his eyes wandered to the soft lace covering your chest. “So pretty. All for me?” “All for you.” You whispered, kissing him again.

His fingertips grazed over your waist, all the way up to the only fabric left on your upper half, leaving goosebumps as you shivered at his touch. Expertly, he unclasped your bra, taking in the view in front of him. “Don’t stare.” You laughed. “Oh I am absolutely going to stare.” His lips trailed down kisses from your collarbone all the way to your left breast, placing a small peck on your nipple before closing his lips around it to suck on it while his other hand massaged the other side, rolling your hardening bud between his fingers.

You gasped at the foreign feeling, your fingers going through his brunette locks, slightly pulling on them. Tom took his time with you, every move calculated. He then released your nipple with a wet plop, making you whine at the loss of pleasure. You scooted forward on his lap, kissing him again, your hips grinding to search for friction on the fabric of his trousers. The brunette smiled. “Greedy girl.”

With one quick motion, he switched your positions, you now being under him. You reached for his shirt, opening button after button to expose his chest, giving it a kiss.

He then tugged at the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down. You matched your panties with the color of your bra, making him shake his head, smiling. “Are you sure you want this?” He asked you, and as you agreed, he kissed you again. You were now lying at the center of the bed, Tom positioning himself behind you, just like in the bathtub.

The brunette kissed the side of your head, trailing his hands downwards to your red panties. He started rubbing on your needy clit through the lace fabric, making you moan. Everything he had done until then was more than perfect, and you could feel the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. “Tom please” you whined, grinding your hips against his palm, desperately searching for more. Finally, he also slid your panties off, leaving you completely bare. You gripped his arm as he worked you towards your orgasm, soft gasps and moans spilling from your lips.

As you attempted to close your thighs around him, he stopped. “Open your legs for me, darling. Can't make you feel good if you don’t cooperate.” Tom then swung one of your legs over his to keep you in place, fingers finding your sweet spot once more.

“Tom-“ you whined, closing your eyes. You were so close, ready to let go. “I know. Be good for me and cum, love.” He encouraged you, his other hand tending to your breasts.

Finally, he sent you tumbling over the edge, your body shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Tom worked you through your high, praising you. “Such a good girl. Doing so well for me.”

You sank into him, your body going limp. The brunette shifted, laying you back onto the pillow. He undressed himself then, and as you took in the size of him, you weren’t so confident anymore. Back on the bed, he positioned himself above you, leaning in to give you a kiss. “Still sure? I am going to be careful. If anything’s wrong, you tell me to stop, okay?” Tom made sure, stroking your cheek. “Okay.” You nodded.

You gasped as you felt his tip slide through your slick folds, gathering your wetness. He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in slightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, the sting making your body tense up. Tom stopped, meeting your eyes. “Relax for me, darling. It will get better.” You just nodded, sinking your head into the pillow. Just relax. It’s going to be fine, you thought.

Now, with a bit more pressure, his tip made its way past, slowly but surely stretching you out around him. Your legs circled around his hips, encouraging him to continue. “Merlin, you are so tight.” Tom growled under his breath, focusing on the way his length split you apart. When he was all the way in, finally, you thought, he paused for a moment, letting you get accustomed to his size. Only after you nodded, Tom pulled out of you slightly, just to push back in. He repeated that a few times, until he exited you completely, speeding up.

At that, you tapped his arm, and he stopped, still buried deep inside of you. “Hurts, Tom” you winced, your eyes meeting his. He kissed your forehead. “Sssh, darling. Just relax. I am going to be careful. You are taking me so well, I promise.”

His fingers found your sensitive clit in an attempt to ease your pain, and it sure did. Soon enough, with his careful thrusts and the growing pleasure, the uncomfortable feeling faded and soft moans escaped your mouth. Tom must have felt you relax as well, because he sped up, groaning at how tight your warm walls were gripping him.

Tom kissed you again, your hot and sweaty bodies touching. “Feel you clenching around me, darling. Let go. Come for me.” And you did. You moaned into the kiss as you convulsed around him, riding out your high. He soon followed, your pulsating walls milking him dry as he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows. Tom collapsed on top of you, catching his breath.

“I am so proud of you.” He praised. “That was amazing, Tom.” You breathed, kissing his curls. “I am glad it was you.”

He smiled at that, lifting his body off yours. Slowly, he pulled his softening length out of you, making you wince slightly. Tom then got up, getting a damp, warm cloth to clean you up. After that, he pulled you onto his chest, and soon enough you fell asleep, cuddled into the boy you once despised.

“Definitely not letting you go anymore now.” Tom muttered, giving your forehead a soft kiss, soon drifting off to sleep himself. That on his bed, together with the girl he once despised.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt]

Saudade.

Summary: Anakin wanted you. Vader has you. Anakin spent his Jedi years bashfully crushing on you, but it was wrong and forbidden for a Jedi. Vader is going to make it his life's work to get you to fall for him now that he can have you... because what if you didn't like Anakin?

Warnings: Being taken hostage, mentions of death and murder, non-vegan food consumption, drugging, passing out, waking up from passing out, distrust, flashback of The Clone Wars.

Part one.

Series Masterlist

~☆~

You didn't spend long in the ships cells. Maybe a day or two before you were moved to what is considered 'your private chambers'.

You went from "filthy Jedi" to "Ma'am". Whiplash on its own.

Your room was dark, spacious, and surprisingly comfortable. The color scheme was dark gray, and the lights were dim. There was a bed with dark cotton sheets, a desk near the door, and a wardrobe on the other side of the room. Plus, a door that led to a bathroom with a shower, toilet, bath, and sink in it. The cupboards had towels and rags already in them, and there was even a bath robe. You had the necessary soaps in the shower and a container of blue salts by the bath.

The wardrobe in your room also already had clothes in it. They were your size, and so... fancy. Weird, you thought. The dresses were nice, like they were made out of the best materials around.

Your privacy was interrupted when you were delivered some food to satiate your hunger. Sliced meat paired with the right fruits and cheeses, joined together by crackers. Fancy stuff you have never had before.

You sat at the desk, staring at the food you were given. They were fools if they thought you would eat the food given to you by your captor. Darth Vader.

Just three years ago, you were a Jedi on a mission. In the middle of said mission, all communication with your superiors went silent, and when you got back to Coruscant, back to the Jedi Temple, everyone was dead from the hands of a Sith. One you knew as Darth Vader.

You were adamant about not eating the food you were given, but the snack drew you in. Soon enough, you were eating the salty and sweet food. The meat was perfect, the cheese was mild, and the fruit was juicy. The crackers had a dusting of salt on them, something that paired well with the other flavors.

It was delicious... something that you didn't want to admit.

You suddenly felt parched, dehydrated. You looked over the tray they gave you.

There was no drink.

The second you stood up so that you could head to the bathroom and drink from the sink faucet, you got dizzy, making you fall to the ground.

A groan escaped your lips, your vision went blurry, and your limbs were heavy. You somehow comprehended the doors to your chambers opening and the white boots of a stormtrooper walking up to you.

After that, it went black.

×

The door opened with a release of air, and the Stormtroopers stepped inside. You were limp in one of their arms, held bridal style as they walked over to where Darth Vader was stood.

They stopped a few feet behind him, and he took his time with turning around, eyes looking through the lenses of his helmet and instantly spotting you.

"Perfect."

×

You woke up three days later, not that you'd know that. It was three in the afternoon, that part you could tell, given since you had a clock next to your bed. You blinked a few times and reached a hand up to wipe the gunk out of your eyes.

You were starving, and on top of that, you felt as dehydrated as you did before you passed out.

You tried to recall what had happened, but your memory was useless. You couldn't remember a thing.

Just passing out after eating and having a stormtrooper walk in, then waking up on "your" bed.

A knock echoed around the room, coming from the doors.

Whoever was there didn't wait for a sign. They just came in, another tray in hand. It looked just like the one from the other day, only there was a cup and a bowl on it.

The Stormtrooper didn't utter a single word as he walked over to your desk and set the tray down before walking back out.

You crossed your arms. As if you'd eat the food they gave you. Never again. The first time you did, you ended up passing out and sleeping for three days. There must have been something in the food.

You wouldn't eat it.

You would starve if you had to....

With a huff, you threw the covers off of you, getting up and stomping over to the table, ignoring your lightheadedness.

You looked down at the bowl. It was soup.

The contents weren't like a broth. It wasn't clear. It looked like their was a bit of cream in the brown liquid. You could see chuncks of meat and potatoes in it, plus some leafy greens.

It smelled good...

Really good...

Without thinking, you sat yourself down in the chair and picked up the spoon that was provided, scarfing down what was given to you.

It was good. Delicious even!

It kind of reminded you of the meals you would eat back at the Jedi Temple, the ones that were more for protein rather than taste. But this one felt like it was for both protein and taste.

You remember the dining hall and sitting with all of the people you had grown up around. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano. All people that are now gone out of your life. Probably dead.

You wondered why you were here. Darth Vader had a reputation for killing Jedi. That includes ex-Jedi who don't even practice the Jedi ways anymore.

Before you knew it, your food was gone, and so was the drink they had given you. You neatly put everything back onto the tray before standing up from the desk and walking over to the closet.

Every single dress looked like it came out of a higher-ups closet. They looked like they were fit for a queen or an empress. Even a senator!

You weren't used to any of this.

They had intricate designs and extra pieces that went to them. Plus, they were all in dark colors.

They were pretty.

You grabbed the first dress that didn't look too flashy. It was dark purple and had a smoothe material that went down to the floor. You also grabbed a black lace cardigan that also went down to the floor. Plus, your undergarments.

You gathered the clothing and walked over to the bathroom, setting them down on the counter and deciding to finally make use of the appliances given to you.

You stared at the sleek shower, them the bath with salts...

Maybe a shower would be a good choice.

×

You sat on your bed, taking in your situation.

You were once a new Jedi Master. Now you're a hostage to a Jedi killer.

[Flashback.]

The air was filled with ash, as always. Your muscles were sore and tired as you sat in your friend General Anakin Skywalker's tent.

Your palms were covered in dirt, ready to be washed away at your next shower.

Anakin was out giving a talk to the clones. It had been a hard day against the Separatists. Many were in the medical tent, just where you were an hour before Anakin hurriedly came in and dragged you to his own tent, internally worried about the gash on your right thigh.

His talk went quickly. He came back in, a hard look on his face. Not because of you, but because of himself.

"Starshine." He spoke your nickname, the one he won't give you a reason for. At least it wasn't 'Snips' like he gave to his Padawan, Ahsoka.

"Ani." You repeat his own nickname back to him. It might not have been a special one that had hidden meaning, but it was still his nickname from you.

Anakin went over to his small cot, sitting next to you and putting a hand on your right thigh, looking down at the wrap that digs into the fat of your thigh. "Are you alright?"

A small smile spread onto your face. "I'm fine, Ani."

"Fine isn't what I'm looking for."

His hair was growing out. Small, light brown waves curled onto his neck and forehead for the first time in years. His body has even started to mature, changing from the lanky-ish figure that he had about a year ago. Maybe it was because he was now a nineteen year old. Maybe it was the war.

His long fingers traced over the top edge of the wrap, stopping when they reached your inner thigh, only to go back and forth again.

"I'm okay, Ani. Really. This is just a minor setback." You tried to reassure him.

His eyebrows were furrowed together as he watched his hand. "A minor setback is a big setback in a war like this, Starshine."

A breath left your lips, almost like a sigh. "Me getting cut isn't going to make us lose, Anakin. Have faith."

His jaw clenched as he finally looked up into your eyes. "Not hope?"

The small smile on your lips softened as he spoke. "That too."

[End of flashback.]

Hope.

Have hope.

No matter the situation you're in, have hope.

Not fear.

Don't back down.

Don't give up.

Don't give up on your hope.

~☆~

Updates will be really slow. Don't expect me to update weekly or monthly. My schedule is erratic. I will abandon you, just to come back randomly and abandon you again. Sorry, babe. :(

Taglist: @songbirdcannabe @sonnensplitter @divxnee @anakinslvt @sweetcheesecakesblog @artemissunn @valsarchives @slut-4-ani

[gatorlovebot]

imagine being simon’s personally appointed handmaiden. a very uncommon practice for a king, but he was also unwed, uncommon for a king of his status and age.

a very gruff man with a hard exterior but over the years you two had developed a great rapport with one another. mostly waiting to be behind closed doors to really let loose when it came to both of your respective personalities. in front of the other staff and royalty you were quiet and obedient, but when it was just you and simon you could rib the masked king for days, feeling a thrill in your stomach whenever you got him to huff out a laugh. he could dish it right back though, pulling mind numbing puns from out of nowhere that you pretend aren’t funny. it makes him laugh even harder when you roll your eyes, your only acknowledgement of his “jokes”.

you two were very close, spending most of your waking moments with him. you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do when you were originally appointed to be the king’s sole handmaiden. the king was quite intimidating, the task itself seemed so daunting and you had just assumed that he would be using you for more nefarious duties. while a life of servitude may not have been what you pictured for yourself, a life of servitude for simon was definitely not what you had pictured either.

he was big and imposing and impossible to wake up in the morning. over time you had resorted to flicking water in his face when he was getting really close to sleeping through some of his important appointments that morning.

he liked his baths scalding hot. you would turn your back to him as he shrugged off his robe and submerged himself in the steamy water, pretending to futz with his towels. you always felt something in your heart settle when you heard his deep and satisfied sigh as he finally allowed his muscle to relax under the hot water.

he always wanted you to pick out his clothes. didn’t matter the ocassion either, he said you never lead him astray with your choices. you always felt a sense of smug, satisfation when he finally lumbered out of bed and pulled on the clothes that you had already laid out for him without a word.

the other servants talk, of course. whispers and rumors bouncing off the castle walls about all the time you spent with the king. you tried not to let it get to you, simon promising to get rid of anyone who spoke a cross word about you. he was a man of his word, having banished a knight the month prior who had made an awful joke about the little peasant girl keeping the king’s bed warm at night.

your relationship with simon had well surpassed just your duties, he was kind and although you would never say it to anyone because he’s the fucking king, you consider him a friend. but you can’t help but realize how many moments you two have had recently. moments that cross the bounds of your relationship.

you sat in your little stool behind the tub simon currently was sprawled out in. having just finished washing out all the soap from his blonde hair you sat back, relaxing your aching body for a moment before you would have to get him out and send him off to bed.

“long day, ah?” he commented.

all you could do was hum in affirmation, eyes closed enjoying the quiet of the king’s large bathroom.

“here,” he murmured, not wanting to disrupt the quiet tranquility you two had created, “pop your feet in.”

you cracked an eye open to see him start sitting up in the tub, turning back to you. “what?”

once he saw he had your attention he settled himself back down, shoulders against the basin of the tub. “slip your shoes off and just,” he motioned to his shoulders, voice dipping low. you could picture his eyes slipping shut again.

you hesitated for a moment, realizing the gravity of what he was asking of you. but he was also your king and even though you two had an unconventional relationship, you dare not go against his wishes.

you slip your shoes off and bunch your skirt up in your hands, pulling it over your knees as to not get it wet. you did as you were instructed and pulled a leg over each of his shoulders, shuddering at the hot water alleviating the tenderness in your feet.

“feel good?” simon pondered.

“yes, very much so,” you can’t help but smile, “thank you, simon”

he laughs to himself, just a little breath huffed through his nose, “anytime.”

you slipped your eyes back shut and allowed yourself a moment to sit and breathe and relax. the feeling of movement snaps you out of your reverie, simon reaching up a hand to loosely hold around your ankle. you see his head shift, his stubbly cheek resting against your calf. you had asked him if he wanted to shave before his bath, but he declined, cranky from his long day and just wanting to get into his bath.

you’re shocked at the touch, not as if you and simon hadn’t shared casual touches before but this seemed. emotional. intimate.

you dare not upset your king, but you know something like this can’t go on for much longer. “should probably get you to bed soon, your highness.” you know he hates it when you use his title when it's just the two of you, but you feel the need to have a degree of separation between the two of you, if not you fear you might do something stupid like reach down and get your fingers through his hair.

simon sighs against your skin and you burn at the way you can feel his lips moving, “just a little bit longer, please?”

you can never deny your king, but you never want to deny simon.

[rorywritesjunk]

All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me

It was Buggy's turn to do your makeup.

Rating: R because the girlfriend can't keep her hands to herself or keep her dirty mind from wandering.

Warning: None really, just suggestive themes. Buggy has a bun because I can't help myself, and chest hair. Mentions of nipple piercings on Buggy because why not? And Buggy is a damn tease as well.

A/N: Sequel to the makeup fic. I wrote two versions of this before deciding the second one was more on track with how the original went. It's inspired by a tag from @sporadicthingcollection from the first fic. Title comes from "Closer" by Tegan & Sara.

Part One is here!

The bath had been comforting, warm, and much needed. This time it wasn't Buggy having a bad day and needing some pampering, it was you. Between losing half your groceries from ripped bags to a pot of water boiling over on the stove and making a huge mess, your foot had also been run-over by Cabaji on his unicycle while you were trying to help some of the performers literally find their marks. It wasn't the first time your foot was a victim to the unicycle, but in the chaos of the day, you didn't think to wear shoes and well, the tread-mark shaped cuts on your foot was a reminder to do so next time.

You toweled off and pulled your robe on, wincing as you limped over to the bed to sit. Buggy was sitting at his vanity, only in his underwear as he unwinded from the day as well. His hair was up in a messy bun, his back to you as he wiped away the day's makeup. It was always a fascinating sight to you, and you knew you were lucky to see him in a near vulnerable state like this.

He rummaged through the drawers of the vanity for something before looking up at the mirror and seeing you reflected back at him on the bed. He smirked, the red around his mouth still prominent, making the smirk appear larger than it was.

"See something you like?" He teased. You flushed at being caught staring. 

"Always." You shot back as you continued watching him, a thought coming to your mind. It was dumb to ask. You both were going to bed in the next few hours, but you didn't know when a better time to ask would be. "Buggy, can I ask you something?"

"Depends." He replied as he looked back at himself in the mirror. "What is it?"

"Um… could you do my makeup?" You asked. "It's just… I like seeing how you do yours and… thought maybe you'd be able to do mine? But I get it if you don't want to, you know, I don't think I really have the face for it."

He pushed his chair away from the vanity and stood up. He didn't say anything as he turned to face you and crossed the room in just a few steps. You wondered if you offended him somehow by the way he grabbed your face when he approached you, staring down at you before smashing his lips against yours in a surprising kiss. You gasped when he pulled away, head spinning as you wondered what the fuck brought that on.

"Thought you'd never ask." He grinned. "Let's get started."

He went back to the vanity and started rummaging through drawers, piling whatever his findings were on the top. You wondered if you should even bother to change into clothes since you would likely end up naked by the end anyway, it would be less of a hassle to stay in your robe.

He came back over a few minutes later and gestured for you to scoot into the middle of the bed. Oh, he was going to do it on the bed, like how you did for him. You scooted to the middle of the bed and grabbed a pillow to stick under your head before making sure your robe stayed closed. He crawled on top of you, knees on either side of your body as you moved your hands to rest over your chest. He didn't need to pin your hands down because you weren't going to grope him like he did to you every time you did his makeup.

Once he settled on top of you and you realized the view you would have, you suddenly realized that oh, you can see why he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Sure, you had been under him plenty of times, but not like this. For one thing, his thighs were right there. Of course you've been between them, looking up at him from the ground as you sometimes knelt down in front of him while he sat in his captain's chair, his pants undone as your mouth su-

"Babe." He snapped you back to reality. Your face was red. "You good?"

"Y-Yes." You replied as your fingers twitched, needing to be touching something to keep you focused. He seemed to notice and grabbed them, placing them both on top of his thighs, the last place you wanted to be touching right then because you knew them so well. You knew how they felt under you whenever you were straddling his lap, whether it was in bed or his chair, naked, riding him until-

He cleared his throat and you up at him again, turning redder in the face.

"Behave." He teased as he held up two eyeliner pencils near your eyes. He studied them for a moment before tossing one aside and uncapping the other. He then leaned down, face close to your own as he carefully moved the pencil along your bottom eyelid, looking at you but not really. The urge to pull him down for a kiss was there, and you thought the possibility of losing an eye would be worth it if you got to kiss him right then.

He was finished quicker than you thought and kissed your forehead. You realize you didn't specify how to do your makeup. Was he going to do something elaborate or simple? Your fingers tapped nervously against his thighs as you started to wonder if this was a good idea. You had worn makeup a few times in your younger years but it never looked right, so you gave up trying to learn how to do it on yourself.

But damn were you glad to have asked him to do it. It was a different kind of intimacy having him leaning over you, an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other as he whispered for you to close your eyes, which you did without hesitation. Your hands stayed on his thighs, moving up and down his thighs slowly, fingers crooking to drag your nails over his skin. You didn't really pay attention to how much you were moving your hands until you felt the fabric of his boxers against your knuckles. You decided to push your luck as you flattened your hands back down and began to slide them up his boxers slowly.

"Babe!" He yelped as he swatted at your hand. "Hey!"

You cracked one eye open and grinned. "Sorry, didn't realize what I was doing."

"Liar." He scolded, looking scandalized by your actions. "I'll sit on you like you do me if you don't watch it."

"Aw, but Buggy!" You whined. "I can't help it!"

"Watch it." He warned as he held the brush threateningly. "Everything else is fair game right now but that. Just wait."

You pouted up at him as you let your hands move to his waist instead, your thumbs running along the waistband of his boxers. He seemed fine with that and you closed your eyes again as he began brushing the eyeshadow over your lids.

It was just hard not to touch him. Before you knew it, you were sliding your hands up his sides, to his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples, resisting the urge to tug on the piercings he had there. You felt him flinch when you touched him, so of course you did it again before running your fingers through his chest hair, hands moving up to his neck so your arms could wrap around him. He cleared his throat and you opened your eyes. 

"Okay, I gotta keep you still." He said. "You're getting too handsy."

"But Buggyyyyyy!" You pouted up at him. "I can't help it, really. Just… fuck, you should see what I'm seeing right now. You look so damn beautiful like this."

He blushed but said nothing as he set the eyeshadow aside. He reached back to unhook your arms from around his neck, pushing them above your head suddenly and holding them against the mattress. He held them down with one hand while the other moved to your cheek, stroking your flushed skin softly.

"And if you could see how you looked right now, babe, underneath me like this…” He trailed off as he tightened his grip on your wrists, his other hand now sliding down your body, untying your robe, touching your stomach as it moved between your legs. You inhaled sharply, trying to move your legs apart for him, biting back a moan.

And then he pulled his hand back without even touching you.

“Buggy!” You whined. “Why?!”

“We’re not finished yet, babe.” He smirked. “I still have to do your lipstick.”

[queenshelby]

Auctioned (P. 4)

Pairing: Dom! Thomas Shelby x Virgin! Reader

Warning: SMUT!

The night of nights had finally come and you stood nervously in your lavish bedroom of Arrow House, the place you now called home. It was all so overwhelming - the grandeur, the opulence, and the weight of the responsibility that came with being in the service of Thomas Shelby, the infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Tonight, was the night you would be losing your innocence to this man, and with this on your mind, you were startled when, suddenly, the door creaked open, and Alison sauntered in with a knowing smirk. She had been tasked with preparing you for your first time, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity.

"Alright, darling, let's get you ready," Alison said, her voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and matter-of-factness. "We'll start with a bath. It's important to be clean and presentable for what's to come."

As you undressed, Alison filled the large, marble bathtub with warm water, fragrant oils, and rose petals. The room was filled with an intoxicating scent as you stepped into the water, feeling a strange mix of comfort and apprehension.

"I know this is all new to you, and it won't be easy, my dear. Thomas is a man who knows what he wants, and he takes it without remorse,” Alison said, handing you a soft sponge. "But trust me, whilst Thomas Shelby may be rough around the edges, he does have an eye for innocence. He is a complex man. But he's also passionate and caring, in his own twisted way, and you may even enjoy yourself."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what lay ahead.

And then, you tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of your fear. "What is it that he sees in me you think? I am sure he could have money women for free,” you wondered as Alison's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"He sees a vulnerability that he can't resist. A purity that he longs to corrupt,” she determined as she gently washed your body, guiding your hesitant hands along your curves.

"Remember, he likes to be in control. Don't resist him," Alison said, her voice filled with a hint of warning. "You're here to please him. Understood?"

You nodded again, the weight of the situation sinking in. The thought of pleasing Thomas Shelby felt both terrifying and strangely exciting.

Once the bath was over, Alison helped you out and wrapped you in a fluffy towel. She sat you down on a plush velvet chair and moved to a nearby vanity, where she laid out an array of cosmetics.

"Now, my dear, let's talk about what to expect," Alison said, her voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and compassion. "It may hurt, and there may be some blood since it is your first time. It's perfectly normal, love. Thomas won't be fazed by it, and neither should you."

You bit your lip, your anxiety swirling like a storm inside you. You hadn't anticipated the reality of the situation being so raw and gritty. But you were committed, having agreed to Thomas Shelby's terms.

Alison then handed you a small bottle of painkillers, a stark reminder that this encounter would not be without its consequences. "Take these before you go to him. They will help with any discomfort you may feel afterwards. You can thank me later," she smirked as your trembling hand took the vial, the tiny capsules, a stark reminder of the pain that awaited you.

Numbly, you accepted the painkillers, but your mind was filled with a flurry of thoughts. Was this really what you had signed up for? Was it worth it?

Sensing your doubt, Alison leaned in closer, her voice low and gentle. "Honey, I won't sugarcoat it. Thomas has tastes that may seem unconventional to you. But you must do as you're told and please him, in return of which he will look after you,” she explained.

Her words offered a small glimmer of reassurance, but deep down, you couldn't shake the nerves and uncertainty that clung to you like a heavy fog.

Alison stood up and retrieved a beautifully embroidered silk robe from the wardrobe. She helped you slip it on, tying the delicate sash with a practised touch.

"Now that you're ready, my dear, let's talk about what Thomas expects from you," Alison said, her tone shifting to a more direct and business-like demeanour.

You leaned in, hanging on her every word, desperate to understand your role in this twisted dance of power and desire.

"Thomas likes it when you're attentive and when you anticipate his needs," Alison explained, her voice laced with a hint of admiration. "He's a dominant man, and he expects you to submit to his commands. You already had some practice this week, and I doubt that he would go as far as he usually does with me. That will happen in due course” Alison explained and, again, you nodded while fidgeting with the sash of the robe, trying to come to terms with the contradictory nature of Thomas Shelby. A man of darkness and light, capable of both cruelty and compassion.

"Now, let's talk about clean-up," Alison continued, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes.

"To avoid any unwanted consequences, you'll want to take some precautions after your encounter," Alison told you and her tone held a hint of macabre humor, as if she were discussing the mundane rather than the grotesque.

She took you to a small room adjoining the chamber, where supplies awaited. Bottles of antiseptics, cotton swabs, and instructions that felt more like warnings. It was a ritual you must perform after every encounter with Thomas.

"You'll need to be thorough," she explained, her fingers gently demonstrating the motions. "Cleanse yourself of his touch, his seed. We can't afford any slip-ups, my dear."

The realisation of what she meant hit you like a punch to the gut. The thought that this encounter could lead to something more permanent than just a night of submission and pain hadn't crossed your mind until now.

"But what if I'm..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "What if I'm with child?"

Alison's eyes softened for a moment, a glimmer of empathy breaking through the walls she had built around herself. "Then you'll do what you must. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The words hung in the air, the weight of the unsaid echoing in the silence. You knew what she meant - the desperate measures that would need to be taken if you were to avoid the consequences of bringing a Shelby child into this world.

"Now, love, I've taught you all I can for tonight but if you need anything, if there's anything you're unsure of, don't hesitate to come to me. I'm here for you,” Alison finally told you before leaving you to your own devices.

Gratitude welled up within you as a small smile tugged at the corners of your trembling lips. In this dark world, you had found an ally, someone who understood the intricacies and dangers that lay ahead.

You took a deep breath, drawing upon the newfound strength that Alison's words had instilled in you. Ready or not, you were about to face Thomas Shelby, the enigmatic and dangerous man who held your fate in his hands.

***

The hallway outside the bedroom was dimly lit, its worn carpet muffling the sounds of your anxious footsteps. As the door to Thomas' bedroom came into view, your heart began to race, pounding in your chest like a drum.

You hesitantly pushed open the door and stepped inside, feeling the weight of his gaze immediately upon you. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, suffused with his dominant presence. Each step closer to him felt like walking to the edge of a precipice, unsure of what lay below.

Thomas Shelby, the formidable leader of the Peaky Blinders, sat on a luxurious armchair near the fireplace, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His intense gaze locked onto you, causing a shiver to cascade down your spine. "Ten thousand pounds, eh," he quipped, his voice laced with arrogance.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hope you won’t regret it, Mr. Shelby," Your eyes darted around the room, unable to meet his piercing gaze. The nervousness in your voice was palpable.

Thomas then stood up and circled you, his eyes tracing every contour of your body, his gaze filled with undisguised hunger. "I won’t," he then said, before making his first command.

“Now undress,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. With trembling hands, you began to peel away the layers of protective silk, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as your vulnerability became more exposed with each passing second.

“Show yourself to me, Love. Show me your innocent body,” he then cued and your heart skipped a beat as Thomas' words infiltrated your mind.

The contrast of light against shadow, innocence against raw power - it captivated you and frightened you all at once. Thomas moved closer, breathing in your delicate scent, his fingertips grazing the fabric of the robe that still hugged your trembling form. He leaned down, his voice seductive and filled with authority.

"Remember, Love, you are mine tonight. Every thought, every breath, every moan belongs to me. You are my property,” he told you as his gaze roamed over your trembling form, his lips curling up into a satisfied smirk.

You nodded, your voice failing you once again. You were but a canvas, ready to be painted with the brushstrokes of Thomas Shelby's desires. Slowly, Thomas stepped back, his eyes locked on yours as he began to strip away his tailored suit. The muscles of his chest and abdomen rippled with each movement, revealing a powerful physique that left you breathless. The air in the room crackled with a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension. There was a dance happening, an intricate choreography that only Thomas knew the steps to.

"Come closer," Thomas commanded, his voice soft but commanding and you took a hesitant step forward, the floor cool against the soles of your feet, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

In that moment, the line between fear and desire blurred, and you knew you were at the mercy of a man who thrived on both. He circled you like a predator stalking its prey, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your exposed neck. A shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively seeking the warmth and safety of his touch.

"Your sister wasn't wrong, eh," Thomas mused, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "There is a certain innocence about you, a vulnerability that intrigues me. It's rare in this world."

“My sister?” you asked, trembling, as you dared to look into his eyes, searching for any cracks in the façade. But all you found was an enigmatic intensity, a fire that consumed everything in its path.

“Your sister was the one who suggested that I attend the auction which I, may add, I considered to be somewhat distasteful,” Thomas pointed out and, whilst you had so many questions now, you knew that they all would have to wait when Thomas leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your ear as he whispered, sending delicious waves of electricity through your entire being. "But, enough of that now. Tonight, I will show you what it means to be mine and you will submit to me, completely," Tommy said and, with that, Thomas took your hand and led you towards the bed.

The soft sheets cradled your weight as he gently pushed you onto the mattress, his dominance like a spell that held you captive. His touch was electrifying, searing your skin as his hands roamed every inch of your trembling body. Each caress, each brush of his fingertips, sent quivers of anticipation through your core.

"Do you trust me, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice dripping with a mix of lust and possession. It was a question that held more weight than mere words could convey. You looked deep into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the layers of darkness.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I trust you." A fierce fire ignited within Thomas' gaze, his control slipping for a moment as he passionately claimed your lips, his kiss a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was a whirlwind that consumed you, making you lose all sense of time and space.  

Every touch of his lips, every stroke of his fingers, made you forget about everything else except his commanding presence. He expertly navigated your body with the view of getting you ready for the inevitable. 

"Spread your legs, Love. Let me see how wet you are," Tommy commanded, his voice low and husky. Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed his instruction, your breath coming in short gasps.

"You are fucking soaking, eh," he determined, his finger stroking your inner thigh. "You really want me to fuck that virgin hole of yours, don't you Love?" he then asked with a devilish grin. Your face flushed red, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. The thought of giving yourself to him, of surrendering yourself completely, both terrified and excited you.

He pulled you closer, his large hands tracing gentle circles across your back.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want this," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as you pressed against him.

"I do, Mr. Shelby," you gasped nervously as he slid his hands along your hips, guiding you to straddle him. "But I am scared that it will hurt," you then admitted as your body shook slightly, fear and excitement coursing through you as you felt his fingers teasingly brush against your entrance.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered into your ear, his deep voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. "It will hurt, but only for a little bit. I won't fuck you until I make sure that you are ready," he assured you before beginning to trail kisses down your body.

"I will use my tongue on you first, sweetheart. Just like last night, eh" Tommy determined, his eyes burning with intensity. Your heart raced at the thought of what he meant, and the thought made you even more aroused. You nodded, unable to speak due to the throbbing pulse between your legs and Tommy smiled knowingly, adoring your shyness. 

As he slowly lowered himself to your level, his gaze fixated on yours, ensuring you were comfortable with every move he made. His hands caressed your hips and thighs, easing any discomfort that might arise from his actions.

Thomas's lips brushed gently against your sensitive skin, trailing tender kisses along your neck and shoulders. "Trust me, Love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. As you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, you couldn't help but acknowledge the intoxicating sensation that overtook you with each deliberate stroke of his fingers, each soft press of his lips.

Eventually, then, he reached your glistening core and started circling it with his tongue, eliciting soft moans from you as he explored every inch of your nether regions. 

Gently, he lifted your leg, spreading you wider with his firm hands, taking full advantage of your submission. You gasped as he probed deeper, teasing your tightness with his tongue, drawing tiny circles around your entrance.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," Tommy groaned, his voice thick with desire. He continued to torment you, pushing you further and further along the edge of ecstasy. With each flick of his tongue, your body seemed to writhe with uncontrollable pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Shelby..." you begged, your voice hoarse from the intensity of your arousal.

Tommy smiled, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you. He continued to torture you with his skilled mouth, pushing you to the precipice of orgasm.

You squirmed underneath him, trying to find some sort of release. The tension built up inside you, reaching almost unbearable levels.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the pressure growing stronger. "Tommy!" you cried out, your body shuddering violently. "Tommy, please! I need..." You didn't get to finish your sentence, as he shifted his position and smiled.

"No, Love. I won't let you cum until I fucked you thoroughly with my cock," Tommy smiled, unbothered by the fact that you had just dropped the formalities and called him by his first name.

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made you realize how much power he held over you, your body. It was an erotic thrill, the thought of being taken by him, of surrendering your body fully to his demands. 

"Now, get on to all fours for me Love. It is time!" Tommy ordered, causing you to swallow hard, thinking that this position in particular would be more uncomfortable than you had anticipated. 

Nevertheless, you complied, getting onto all fours, presenting your backside to him. You heard the rustle of the sheets behind you, as Tommy undressed, tossing the remainder of his clothes carelessly aside. His powerful presence filled the room, leaving no doubt as to whose domain it truly was. 

Your breath hitched as he came up behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. He took his time, running his fingers lightly over your body, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to hurry. 

"Are you ready for my cock, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with authority. Your heart pounded faster, the thought of him filling you, bringing not only terror but also a strange sense of exhilaration.

"Yes," you managed to utter, feeling a flush of pride at your own boldness. "I am ready, Mr. Shelby." Your words carried a newfound confidence, a sense of control that had been missing earlier.

Tommy smiled, pleased by your bravery. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Good," he whispered.

"I expect you to take it like a good girl, eh? And I want you to hold nice and still when I fill you," Tommy told you and you could hear the excitement in his voice, a fervour that mirrored your own. He lubricated his fingers, preparing himself for the task ahead. Gently, he pressed a single digit into your entrance, causing you to gasp and clench involuntarily. Slowly, he worked another finger inside of you, stretching you incrementally, building up to what was about to happen next. 

"Relax, Love," he instructed gently, his fingers working rhythmically in and out of you. "Let yourself feel the pleasure I'm going to give you." Your breathing became increasingly erratic, your entire focus narrowed to the point where you could only concentrate on his touch.

But, just before you could cum, Tommy removed his fingers and replaced them with his thick cock, which now pushed against your entrance.

"I am going to push in now," Tommy warned you and your eyes widened, your body trembling with anticipation and fear. But there was also a sense of triumph, as if conquering something deeply personal, something that made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

You braced yourself, tensing as he began to push into you while you held on to one of the pillows.

"It hurts," you cried out while Tommy watched as his thick length pushed past your pussy lips as he forced another inch into you. 

"It's okay, Love. Breathe through it," he murmured, gripping your hips tightly. He knew that you were new to this, that it wouldn't come naturally to you. But you had to learn, you had to adapt. 

You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes, feeling the pain sear through your body. 

"You are doing well. I am halfway in," Tommy told you as, eventually, he could feel your barrier. Your body tensed even more, but he kept pushing, gradually forcing your virgin walls to yield to his advance.

"This is your first time," he said, his voice full of admiration. "And I will be the one to claim your innocence, eh," Tommy groaned as, with a final forceful thrust, he was entirely sheathed within you, filling you completely. 

"Fuck, you are tight," you then heard Tommy curse as you felt a warm kind of liquid tickle down your inner thighs, which you knew may have been blood as Alison had warned you to be the case.

Your body was on fire, and it was only now that you realized the true extent of the physical impact of what had just occurred. 

"You are not so innocent anymore," Tommy groaned before slowly beginning to thrust in and out of you and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the pain.

Your body ached everywhere, yet a strange kind of pleasure mixed with the pain coursed through you. 

"Now tell me Love, who do you belong to?" Tommy asked, his voice gruff with desire. You couldn't believe you were really having this conversation, yet somehow, the heat of his body against yours and the ache inside you caused by his cock, made you believe it was real.

"I belong to you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, your voice shaking slightly. Despite the immense pain, your response was met with a smile of approval from Tommy.

He pulled out slightly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before plunging back in, harder this time.

"That's right Love. You belong to me," he groaned as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you harder and faster. Your body was starting to adjust to the intrusion, and despite the pain, a deep and powerful wave of pleasure washed over you with each thrust. The rhythmic slap of his hips against yours filled the room, drowning out everything else.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure as you clung desperately to the pillow, your nails digging into the fabric. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you weren't quite there yet.

Just as you were about to reach the peak, Tommy suddenly stopped, pulling out of you with a grunt.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, frustrated and disoriented by the sudden change.

"Shhh, Love," he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "Just trust me." His intense gaze held yours, making it difficult for you to resist him. You nodded hesitantly, unsure of what he had planned.

Without warning, Tommy scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly across the room.

You gasped in surprise, wondering what was happening.

"Where are we going?" you asked nervously, unable to hide your apprehension.

"Trust me, Love," Tommy reassured you with a gentle smile. "You'll see."

As he reached the window, he carefully lowered you onto the ledge, standing close enough to support you if needed. Together, you looked out over the land surrounding Arrow House, the moonlight casting a silver glow upon the landscape below as well as the streets of Birmingham, far in the distance. 

"Do you see this?" he asked, gesturing toward the breathtaking view. "This is mine. All of it. Everything you see here, belongs to me." He paused, turning to face you with a look of determination in his eyes. "You too, belong to me. You are my fucking property and I want you to remember that every time you look at these streets, these buildings, everything that makes up this empire."

A cold chill ran down your spine, understanding the weight of his words. You were nothing more than a possession, belonging to him like any other material thing he owned.

The thought of being considered as valuable as the buildings below filled you with both anger and shame. You wanted to argue, to protest, but you couldn't deny the truth in his words.

"Now bend down, Love. I want to fuck you some more," Tommy growled, his voice low and commanding. Feeling the power in his words, you bent over the ledge, presenting yourself to him once again. He grabbed your hips firmly, positioning you perfectly. The wind gently brushed against your skin, chilling you to the core, but it didn't stop you from obeying him. 

"That's it, good girl," he cooed as he lined himself up with your sore entrance again. 

You felt the familiar burning sensation as he entered you once more, your muscles struggling to relax around his sizeable member.

"Remember, you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with you," Tommy reminded you as he started to thrust into you.

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal at his words.

You bit your lip hard, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of him sliding in and out of you.

With every thrust, you could feel him claiming you, marking you as his own. The intensity of his grip on your hips left no doubt about the strength of his dominance over you. It was as though he was branding you with his touch, leaving an indelible mark that would forever be a part of you.

"Come on, Love," he urged, his voice rough with passion.

"Take me deeper." You obeyed instinctively, burying your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. The pleasure-pain combination was reaching new heights, making you realize how unprepared you were for this intense experience.

As the tempo increased, the wind howled, matching the frenzy of your own cries. The air turned colder, sending shivers through your body, only making you crave more of his touch.

"You are making a mess all over the floor Love," Tommy groaned playfully, his grip on your hips tightening.

"I am sorry," you managed to utter, barely able to form the words due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

"No apologies," he snapped, a dark gleam in his eye. "You enjoy it, don't you? Letting yourself go, feeling the sensations washing over you."

"Yes," you moaned, finding yourself helplessly lost in the moment.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful.

"Keep looking out, let it remind you whose property you truly are." You obeyed, feeling your resolve waver under the intensity of his touch. The cold wind whipped against your skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

His grip on your hips tightened as he continued to move in and out of you, the rhythm matching the beat of your heart.

Your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House. As your body trembled from the intense sensations, you tried to suppress the growing fear that overwhelmed you. How could you possibly give yourself fully to such a man without losing yourself in the process?

With each thrust, you felt your connection to Thomas deepen, your vulnerability exposed, and your independence diminished. You found yourself struggling to reconcile the reality of your situation with the idealized image of love and devotion you had envisioned for yourself.

"Do you want to cum?" Tommy eventually asked, seeing that you could not take too much more of this.

You nodded vigorously, eager to release the pent-up tension coursing through your body.

He continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You felt a building pressure within you, an uncontrollable need to explode.

"Cum for me, Love," he commanded, his grip on your hips tightening further.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, engulfing you in a wave of pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Your entire body shook with the intensity of it, your grip on the ledge tightening almost painfully.

"So good, isn't it?" Tommy asked, his eyes burning with pride. You couldn't find the words to answer him, still reeling from the aftershocks of your climax as he sped up again, finding his very own release. 

Sweat dripped down your forehead, mingling with the tears that stained your cheeks. The cold wind whipped against your heated skin, adding another layer of discomfort to your situation. Yet, the pain seemed to amplify the exquisite pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost there Love. I am going to cum in this virgin cunt of yours, eh" Tommy groaned loudly, the sound filling the quietness of the night as your orgasm subsided and you felt increasingly sore.

"You better learn to love this feeling because it's going to become the norm. I will fill your holes with my cum every fucking day from now on," Tommy howled as he thrusted into you harder and you tried to catch your breath as you struggled to understand the extent of your submission to him. 

His harsh, possessive tone only served to make you tremble in fear and arousal simultaneously. You knew then that there was no escape from this life, no way to break free from his grasp.

"Y/N," he growled, pounding into you with renewed ferocity. "Your body belongs to me. Your pleasures are mine to control. Do you understand?"

Swallowing thickly, you nodded reluctantly, your throat raw from earlier cries. "Yes," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself.

"Good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as your cries became louder, mingling with the wind and echoing through the silent corridors of Arrow House. 

"Now, hold nice and still for me, eh" Tommy groaned, pulsating inside of you, and filling you with his warm seed.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, pumping himself into you until he finally shot his entire load into you.

His body convulsed in ecstasy, and you felt the hot stickiness of his semen pouring into you, mixing with your very own wetness and the blood from your torn innocence until, eventually, he pulled out of your sore pussy.

"Look at that Love. Look at you leaking my cum," Tommy cooed, forcing you to turn around and making you look down at your soiled body, stained with his seed and the evidence of your lost virginity. 

"It's going to happen a lot more often now, eh?" Tommy smirked while your body was still trembling from the force of your orgasm.

"Yes Mr. Shelby. I will be at your service whenever you need," you said, your voice wavering slightly as you regained your composure. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as you processed the implications of his last statement.

"Good girl," he said, the praise laced with his characteristic blend of authority and desire. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. His eyes flashed with a mix of tenderness and menace, his expression conveying the complexity of his feelings towards you.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your bearings after the intense encounter.

You stared at the mess you had made on the floor, feeling a strange mixture of shame and excitement. You glanced back at Thomas, who stood proudly watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. Your heart raced as you began to comprehend the true extent of your predicament – you were now owned by him, bound to fulfill his desires whenever he wished.

As you stood there, the wind whipping around you, you realized just how far you had come from the innocent young woman you once were.

"Now, you should get cleaned up Love. I am sure Alison explained the procedure to you?" Tommy asked casually, breaking the silence that had fallen upon you both.

"Yes, she did. She said it is to avoid pregnancy," you answered, feeling a sudden surge of panic at the thought of getting pregnant. 

"Correct, so I will leave you to it, eh?" Tommy smiled, his fingers brushing against your cheek affectionately.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby," you replied, attempting to mask your anxiety behind a veil of gratitude.

He gave you a slight nod before turning and walking towards the door, leaving you alone to process the events of the evening.

Standing there, you found yourself surrounded by the evidence of your defilement - the sweaty sheets tangled around your legs, the faint scent of sex in the air, and the knowledge that your innocence was irreparably shattered. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought about the future that lay ahead of you.

Even though you had been warned about what might happen, experiencing it firsthand left you reeling.

Your entire body ached from the intense physical exertion, yet your mind still buzzed with the aftermath of your loss of innocence. The cold draft of the night seeped through the open window, chilling your naked skin and reminding you of the vulnerability you felt.

This was your life now and, for some twisted reason, you already enjoyed it.

Tag List Insert

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie

[drapopia]

Papa's Nighttime Routines HC's

headcanons include: primo, secondo, terzo, and copia

word count: 1.7k

authors note: WHOOO BUDDY i cranked out two pieces today, i am on a roll! comments are always appreciated, i'd love to hear your thoughts! headcanons are so fun, it's like playing with a little doll that you're borrowing for playtime

warnings: none that i know of! send me a message if you see any that need disclosed :)

Primo 

Primo starts his night around 6:30, where he enters his quarters and immediately collapses into his armchair. He’ll usually take a few moments to just sit there. He’s usually not burdened by paperwork so much anymore, but Siblings depend on him for guidance. Whether it be a deep internal struggle, or simply asking where the correct potting soil is kept in storage, he has to answer many questions. It takes a toll going from one extreme to the lowest degree. 

After a few moments in his armchair decompressing, he makes his way to the bathroom, where he goes to take his shower. He takes a shower at night, and occasionally in the morning if he’s had a rough night. He still uses shampoo even though he’s bald, he doesn’t want to have an oily looking head. He uses a peppermint scented body wash, he claims it “wakes his skin up”

After getting out of the shower, he uses an unscented lotion and takes his towel out of his towel warmer (a birthday gift from Terzo.) He cleanses his face of paint before hopping in the shower, and uses a moisturizer after his shower. He makes sure to apply moisturizer evenly, making sure to get in all of his wrinkles and fine lines. 

After his shower, he’ll get into his pajamas. His pajamas are a silk sleeping set, maroon colored. He also has some fluffy house slippers that are worn down because he’s used them for quite a long time. During the winter he opts for thick lodge socks. He has quite the collection! He brushes his teeth thoroughly with a black licorice toothpaste. 

When he’s clothed, he usually settles into bed with a good book. He’s partial to nonfiction, but he also likes fantasy. If he’s feeling saucy, he’ll read some dark romance. He has an extensive bookcase, all of the brothers are avid readers. 

He usually falls asleep around 9:30. He sleeps straight on his back, arms folded over his stomach. He tends to snore, but it’s not obnoxious, just a slow back and forth rumble. His brothers swear that Primo talked in his sleep when he was a kid, but Primo denies this vehemently. 

On his nightstand he has a glass of water, his reading glasses, his nighttime book, and a box of tissues (his allergies act up at night). 

Secondo 

Secondo’s night starts around 7 or 8, depending on if he has confessional duty. Once he gets back to his quarters, he likes to decompress by having a cigarette on his patio. He enjoys looking across the Abbey courtyard, watching the Siblings make their way to their rooms. 

After his cigarette is down to the filter, he goes to take off his paints. Secondo is more of a shower in the morning, but he doesn’t mind taking a relaxing bath in the evening from time to time. Once he takes his paints off, he moisturizes well and applies an under eye cream. He loathes the fact that his under eyes have started to wrinkle, and he dislikes his crows feet. 

After cleansing his face, he makes his way to his dresser, where he undresses. After making sure to hang his robes up correctly to avoid wrinkling, he puts his dirty clothes in the hamper. He dislikes having clutter around his personal space. As for pajamas, Secondo is likely to sleep naked with just a pair of long black socks. He finds clothes suffocating under his blankets, and just prefers to sleep naked. During the winter he may wear a white undershirt and some boxers, along with his standard black socks. Before he goes to bed, he finishes up by brushing his teeth with mint toothpaste and flossing his teeth violently. He says he has no idea why his gums bleed. 

As for his nighttime activities, Secondo likes to curl up with a book and a small glass of expensive whiskey, the kind that makes you want to curl up and die after a small sip. For reading material, he prefers nonfiction, usually theology or philosophy. If he’s feeling saucy, he will read just straight up erotica. 

Secondo goes to bed around 9:30 to 10. He sleeps sprawled out on his stomach, he’s a fan of the starfish position. He snores ridiculously loud. Terzo swears he can hear him through the Abbey walls. He also likes to sleep with as little blanket coverage as possible, he feels like it suffocates him. 

His nightstand has his nighttime reading book, snore strips, and a box of tissues. He also has his reading glasses, a nail file, and a lip balm. 

Terzo 

Terzo’s night starts at 7:30, depending on if confessional duty goes a while or gets a little saucy, if y’know what I mean. He also likes to spend a while in the dining hall speaking with Siblings, catching up with their days and making sure everyone is okay. 

He immediately cleanses his face of his paints and then hops in the shower. He uses an unscented shampoo and conditioner, his body wash is lilac and jasmine scented. He also uses a jasmine scented body scrub at different times during the week. He takes showers in the morning and night, but does his most extensive routine at night. 

When he gets out of the shower, he starts a bit of an elaborate and sort of skewed skincare routine. He uses a moisturizing toner first, but he refuses to use a moisturizer. He says it feels greasy on his skin, but will not try any skin care brands. He uses under eye cream as well. He uses a very expensive body lotion, and lotions himself up like a slug. 

Once he gets out of the shower, he puts on his pajamas. He has multiple pairs of pajamas, but he usually wears one of his various old band t-shirts and some boxers. If he’s feeling saucy, he’ll wear nothing. When winter comes around he has a track suit that he likes to wear around his quarters. He tends to wear slippers, but they’re nothing too fancy, just some fuzzy purple ones. 

His nighttime activities usually include some type of tv show, he’s not picky on what he watches. He usually picks reality cooking shows, cozying up in his bed with a cup of nighttime tea. He will occasionally watch a movie, but he prefers to have something he can come back to every night with a new episode reliably pulled up to watch. Before he goes to bed, he brushes his teeth gingerly with bubblegum flavored toothpaste. He refuses to use mint because it stings.  

He usually goes to sleep around 10 o’clock, though he’s been known to stay up until 11 watching a good engaging documentary show. He sleeps with many blankets, including a weighted blanket. He likes an abundance of pillows, one between his legs and one behind his back, including one to latch onto when he sleeps. He sleeps on his side, but during the winter, he likes to sleep face up and breathing in the cold air from his open patio. He is prone to sleep talking, but none of it makes any sense. When they were kids, Secondo used to stay up late and try to get Terzo to have an actual conversation, but the sentences never stayed coherent. 

On his nightstand, he has a lip balm, a box of tissues, some hand lotion, and a small pill bottle of Viagra hidden in his nightstand drawer. 

Copia 

Copia starts his night around 6:30 usually, but he can also stay in his office until around 8 some nights if the paperwork piles up, or it’s… tax season! In this case, we’ll do a normal night around six thirty. 

He gets to his quarters and starts feeding and watering his rats. He makes sure they’re all well, giving them all time to inspect him and give them the required scratches and kisses. He will give them all of their treats that he gathered from the dining hall, usually either blueberries or sunflower seeds from the salad bar. 

After his rendezvous with his little ratties, he hops in the shower. He uses a green tea scented shampoo and conditioner, and uses an unscented body wash. He prefers not to use intense scents because they can make his head hurt. Once he gets out of the shower, he moisturizes his face, making sure to get his neck since it can get dry. 

Once he gets out of the shower, he gets into his pj’s, which are his standard red sweatpants and hoodie. He also wears lodge socks, since he doesn’t like to be barefoot. Besides him just preferring to have socks on, his room can get cold easily. He doesn't wear underwear under his sweats, he is free balling. 

As for nighttime activities, he tends to relax by playing games on his Nintendo. If he has a headache or he’s feeling averse to loud noises, he’ll recline in bed and read a book. He loves ancient history or science fiction, but any topic can peak his interest. Nine times out of ten though, you’ll find him on his little couch driving Miss Daisy. Before he goes to bed, he brushes his teeth with mint toothpaste and uses an extremely strong minty mouthwash. He wants to be able to take a sip of ice water and feel his brain explode in coldness. 

Copia tends to go to sleep around 9 on a normal night since he wakes up early to start his day. He sleeps curled up around a pillow, his back to the wall and a pillow between his thighs. He sleeps with a comforter and no top sheet. He does snore, but it’s nasally. This may sound uncomfortable to hear, but it’s very soft and wispy. He sleeps on his side more often than face up. Copia is prone to falling asleep on the couch, and occasionally, with one of his rats curled into the side of his neck. Copia isn’t a light sleeper, and his rats have no fear of their Papa rolling over onto them. 

His nightstand has some hand lotion, a box of tissues, a glass of ice water, and his reading glasses. He may have some fruit snacks tucked away in the corner of the nightstand if he’s feeling a little snackish. 

[circe69]

Frostbite

Simon "Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader narrative: warming up with Simon after a freezing mission tags: warm bathes, making out, soft!simon cw: mentions of nudity (nonsexual), mentions of injury, suggestiveness.

The snow kept coming down harder and harder as the minutes passed, and you kept close behind Simon as you struggled to walk through the snow.

"You keepin' up, Y/N?" He yells over the loud winds. You give him a thumbs up as he turns around to check on you.

Neither of you were wearing the designated winter attire, seeing as the blizzard wasn't expected. You were wearing large cargo pants, with a matching sweatshirt and puffer vest. The tank top underneath was also helping to keep some of your body heat regulated, but all you really wanted was to get inside.

The nearest safe house was about to come into view, and you started walking a little faster as you began to see the log cabin roof poking out behind the tall snowcapped pine trees.

Simon's boots stepped onto the wooden porch, shaking off the snow as he walked. The front door creaked open, and you sighed in relief as you felt the warm air coming from inside.

"After you, m'lady," his gruff voice invited you in while holding the screen door open. You stepped inside, immediately taking off your boots that were soaked from all the melted snow. Simon came in after you, closing the door behind you.

"Take those wet clothes off and go get in the bath."

Your cheeks reddened at his request. You knew it was only because he was looking out for you, but it was difficult for you to hide your feelings for him when he said things like that.

You started with your puffer vest, leaving it to dry on one of the kitchen chairs, then took your sweatshirt off, leaving you only in your cargo pants and tank top.

Simon looked up from trying to start a fire in the fireplace, and you saw his eyes locked on you. You walked over to get a towel from the dining table, cutting the distance shorter between you and Simon, who was crouched down on the floor.

"Your bloody skin, Y/N, it's so red," he jumped up from where he was and made his way over to you.

His hands shot up to your arms, wrapping perfectly around your bare biceps. He tried to warm you up by shifting his hands up and down your arm. You shivered as his heat met your cold skin, and you almost collapsed into him, not realizing how much the cold had affected you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" His voice faded in and out as you fully melted into him. He quickly sprang into action, and picked you up, carrying you bridal-style into the bathroom, throwing the towel you were holding over his shoulder.

As he made his way into the master bathroom, he set your frail body in the bathtub, carefully removing the soaked clothes from your body. You were in and out of consciousness, raising your hand in protest every so often, trying to say you could do it yourself, but Simon refused.

He turned the warm water on, testing the temperature with his wrist to make sure it wasn't too hot. As you felt the water pour over your body, you slowly came to. Simon's hand was soft and gentle as he scooped the water over every part of you.

When you looked up, you saw that his mask and shirt had been removed.

"Simon?" You whispered, trying not to look down at your body out of embarrassment.

"A few more minutes and you would've gotten frostbite, love."

His eyes looked so caring, so gentle. He noticed your hesitancy, your flushed cheeks and darting eyes.

"You're alright, Y/N. Promise."

After a few more minutes of silent staring, taking turns looking at each other's exposed features, you stood out of the bath. Simon had already left the bathroom and was waiting in the master bedroom.

You traced over your skin, the parts that he had so gently cared for, as you wrapped a soft robe around you, tying the string in the front loosely.

Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, you found Simon asleep on the bed. He wasn't even under the covers, and his feet were hanging off the bed. You smiled to yourself as you took a step closer, now in between his knees. You bent down, slowly, and paused as your lips were a few inches above his. You hesitated, knowing that this wasn't smart. You had no idea how Simon felt about you, but after all that he did for you tonight, you wanted to take a risk.

You leaned down even lower, steadying yourself by putting a hand close to where his head was. Your lips carefully caressed his, slowly picking up his with your own.

Simon stirred, and you knew it when you felt his lips moving against yours. Both of your hands were now on the bed, caging him in. You were putting a lot of trust in the robe, but it didn't even cross you mind as you stepped up onto the bed, putting your knee in between his thighs. You heard him let out a slight groan, making you open your mouth to hear it again.

His hands slowly raised up to your hips, carefully grabbing onto your body and pulling it down towards his. It wasn't too long before he was fully awake, and he flipped you onto your back. His fingers traced your collarbone as you kissed him deeper.

You broke from the kiss slowly and looked up to see his eyes. They were wandering, all over you. Every inch of your face and body, his eyes were on.

He intertwined your fingers in his as he gently laid down on you, letting his weight completely relax on you. You traced your fingers along his spine, occasionally tracing circles on the back of his neck before continuing on the rest of his skin.

"Did I scare you?" You whispered to him.

He leaned up to look at you, propping his head on his hand. "A little."

"Only a little?" You teased as your hand squeezed his shoulder.

Simon burrowed his head into your neck, almost embarrassed.

"More than that."

You smiled when you felt him smile onto your skin.

"I don't know what I would've done," he said softly. Maybe he didn't mean for you to hear him, or maybe he didn't even want to hear himself. Whatever he was thinking, you knew he truly cared about you.

[d3sserts0ul]

about your fyodor aftercare thing…

let’s get a little more writing on that shall we? also lets include sigma and Nikolai aftercare too because I think they deserve better💔

𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙙!

( also New layout????? 🤍 )

“ 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. ”

𝘋𝘰𝘈 [ 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘴．] 𝘟 𝘎𝘕！𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙, 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴．

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙠𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙁𝙮𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧 is his 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜...

— 𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙢𝙖

Sigma’s lips lock with yours as he pulls out of you, trying to match your breath with his to calm down. Despite this slight awkwardness at the end of the heated moment, a sense of a warm and calming aura start to replace the tension in the air. He slowly pulls away, opening his eyes to look at yours. He looked almost dazed and a bit tiredly, though that isn’t surprising.

“ Are you okay? ” He asks, caressing your cheek. Sigma didn’t move until he heard that you were alright, it didn’t matter if he felt sticky from the sweat, or from something else, your needs were always put first.

“ Yeah, I’m okay. ” You finally respond back, a sigh of relief emitted from Sigma’s mouth.

“ You were a bit too rough though, did something happen today? ” You sighed.

He knew he could be rough on some days due stress or irritation from the casino or from Nikolai and Fyodor, and this was one of those days. It’s when he pushes you to the wall and aggressively kiss you deeply right then and there, or when he grabs you by your ankles and pull you closer to him. It can be concerning but your trust in him lowers that feeling to where you find it hot or something.

“ Work was just… harsh today, some drunk customers came in and wrecked havoc in the casino. ” He mumbled as his eyes meet with yours again. “ Could you forgive me for that? ” You couldn’t say no to such a look coming from his face, it made you want to suck him dry all over again.

“ Fine. ” You respond.

After another quick peck on the nose, Sigma finally gets off of you and grabs a nearby hand towel to wipe you and him off. He gently rubs off any fluids on your body, and your face just to be sure with the cloth, looking very concentrated on such a simple act. Once again, not surprising.

Even though Sigma looks so calm, he’s actually about to lose it. What does he say to you? Would it be weird if he just asks if you enjoyed yourself? Is he doing this right?

“ You look pretty with a ponytail, I think you should keep it like that more often. ”

Your voice broke into his head and he returned back to earth. Sigma smiles, a bit of pink dusting his cheeks. “ Really? If you like it so much, I’ll wear it for you more. ” He leans back down to plant more kisses on you as if he hasn’t already.

Sigma puts away the towel, getting a water bottle from the mini fridge near the bed. “ I’ll run us a bath, drink this for now. ” Sigma glanced over to you as he puts on his robe, ready to get up, but once you pull him back down. “ Stay. I want you, please? ” You whined.

Sigma couldn’t deny such a request like that, he can’t help but feel a little more wanted someone, someone he loved back. “ Alright, whatever you want. ” He said, laying back down to cuddle you.

“ You can have me, I’m all yours. ”

－ 𝙁𝙮𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧

You shift a bit out of discomfort, the water rippling your every movement.

“ Ah ah, stay still. Or would you prefer another round. ” Fyodor’s voice echo in the bathroom, and the abrupt words sent shivers down your spine. “ Sorry. ” You apologize. He didn’t answer back but you knew he accepted your apology either way.

The steam coming from the water smelled of vanilla and lavender, and the water had a bit of a foggy color due to some small oils Fyodor added to it. Your back was to his chest and you had no choice but to bask in the comfortable silence.

This was getting too silent for you, even if you liked it. After picking up some left confidence and courage that he didn’t pound out of you, you sit up and turn to face your body to him. Fyodor’s eyes open and he sneaks his hands to your thighs, to keep you from getting up any further.

“ Can I please play with your hair? ” You ask, attempting to give some sort of convincing face in order for him to give in to your desire.

He didn’t budge, there goes your courage and confidence once again, instead replacing it with embarrassment and guilt. “ You’re rather needy, aren’t you? ” He smirked. Seeing you slowly losing yourself to his words amused him greatly, and since he was in a good mood today, a reward like that seems acceptable for someone like you. ( as if having sex with him isn’t already enough. )

“ Very well, be gentle. ” He gives in finally. Your fingers desperately run through his damp hair, braiding a few strands together, taking them out, then braiding them back together again.

[ereardon]

The Stranger [Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw left an impression — after finding him naked and passed out after a night of drinking in your front yard, he’s anxious to never see you again in his life and relive the embarrassment. But there’s something about him you just can’t let go. He’s a project, and you hate to admit you love a fixer upper. Bradley is hesitant to let you in, but you’re persistent. Is he making a massive mistake?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

A/N: This is a sneak peek of an unfinished WIP!

You were pouring your morning coffee, Cracker Barrel mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other, when you spotted him through the edge of the front window. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, peeling back the darkness from the night before, and you spotted what could only be an arm flung across the green grass of your front lawn. 

Stepping out onto the deck, you squinted. The grass was wet from the rain shower that had hit in the early morning and the street was eerily quiet. You looked around. There were no cars parked nearby. 

And yet, somehow there was a fully nude man lying face down on your lawn. 

You put the cup of coffee down gently, slid off your slippers and tiptoed tentatively down the path and onto the grass, bending down to see if you were about to call the cops with a homicide investigation. And then you watched his chest rise with a breath and you sighed out, hand on your heart. 

“Thank God,” you muttered. You stood back up and took him in. He was tall, or long considering he was just laying there in the grass. Curled brown hair, tanned and incredibly muscular arms, back and legs. And a nice fucking ass if you did say so. Leaning back down, you tapped his shoulder. “Um, hi?” 

The man groaned but remained on his stomach so you circled your fingers around his upper arm and shook harder. 

“Hello? Excuse me.” 

“Shit,” the guy groaned, rolling over and flopping onto his back, giving you a clear view of his package. Your eyes went wide, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. He also had a perfect six pack, but you were staring a bit south of the border. He rubbed his eyes and finally looked up at you. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Caroline,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you’re naked, by the way.” 

“Fuck,” he said, scrambling to cover himself and then wincing in pain, one hand coming up to his head. 

You shook your head and sighed, uncrossing your arms and shrugging off your blue robe. “Here, put this on.” 

He stood and accepted it, tying it around his waist but it was tight. “Thanks.” 

“Come inside,” you said, turning on a heel and heading back toward the walk. “You can take a shower if you want. Call someone to come get you.” 

He followed you, head hung. “Where am I?”

You grabbed the coffee mug you had deserted on the steps and opened the door. “You’re on Miguel Ave. A few blocks from the golf course.” 

He nodded and stepped inside. You pointed up the stairs. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. Guest bath is the third door on the right. There should be towels and a bigger robe if you need it.” 

He stepped onto the stairs and then turned around, giving you a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m a stranger. I’m a naked stranger.” 

You laughed. “You think I haven’t seen my fair share of drunk idiots? I went to Tulane. I knew what happened to you the minute I saw you.” 

He simply nodded and ascended the stairs. You chuckled and walked into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, there were cautious footsteps in the hallway beyond the kitchen and you turned around to see the guy from the lawn wearing your ex’s old flannel robe, his dark hair damp but clean. He had a mustache and a uniquely handsome face. You wouldn’t have immediately called him attractive if it wasn’t for how he carried himself. Even hungover and wearing a bathrobe in a stranger’s home, he had a charisma you could sense through his walk alone. 

“Take a seat,” you said, motioning to the dining table and he nodded, sitting down. You slid a cup of water and a cup of juice over, and then a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon. “Do you eat meat?” 

He chuckled and grabbed a slice. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you said, returning to the stove and pulling off the pan of eggs, dropping some scrambled eggs into a dish and walking over to the table, taking the seat at the end and pushing one bowl of eggs over to him. “So, remember anything yet?”

He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “Bits and pieces. I want to say it involved a dare and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” 

You laughed and took a sip of coffee. “God, how old are you?” 

He smiled and you realized just how attractive of a smile it was. “I’m Bradley,” he said. 

You nodded. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asked. 

“I told you outside?” 

He shook his head. “Fuck, sorry.” 

“Caroline,” you offered and he smiled. 

“Caroline,” he repeated. “Nice name.” 

You leaned back in the chair. “Do you need to borrow my phone?” He nodded and you unlocked your phone, sliding it across. You didn’t even realize until he stared at the home screen for a moment that it was still a picture of your ex and his dog. 

“Boyfriend?” he asked, lifting the phone into his large hands and scrolling for the dial pad. 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. I keep forgetting to change it.” 

He nodded carefully and hit a few buttons, bringing the phone up to his ear. “Bob, hey, it’s Rooster. Listen, I uh, I need a ride. Yeah, one second.” He pulled the phone away. “What’s your address?” 

“4502 Miguel Ave.”

He repeated the address into the phone. “Oh, and bring me some clothes, please.” You heard laughing on the other end of the line before he hung up. He slid the phone back to you. “Thanks. He should be here in fifteen minutes.” 

“So which is it?” 

He squinted at you. 

“You introduced yourself to me as Bradley, but whoever Bob is, and he has a great laugh by the way, apparently knows you as Rooster.” You slid your eyes over him. “Are you a stripper?”

“What?” he asked aghast and you laughed, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Cool if you are, no judgment here.” 

He shook his head, biting off another piece of bacon. “I’m a pilot. It’s a callsign. A sort of nickname.” 

“Pilot, huh?” 

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 20}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The push and pull of memories and power emulate the waves you watch from your balcony as you seek more and more solitary time with the wedding looming closer.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, angst, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), non con touching, unwanted advances, emotional manipulation, unnecessary display of possession, memory loss, controlling family dynamics, marriage set up, sold into marriage, din pov and reader pov, lemme know if i missed any other big ones!

A/N: this marks the middle of the maldovan arc! we've got two / three more chapters before we delve into season two events with our dear tin man. my feelings have been all over the place but hopefully i channeled them well into this chapter for y'all ♡

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Din was used to situations dissolving quickly from what he thought they would be, shifting into quick successions of movements and scenarios his instincts allowed him to maneuver with ease.

But the sight of you covered in nothing but bubbles from a foaming wash, bent over the side of the large communal bath had been something he wasn’t prepared for. Especially since the last time he had been intimate with you had turned out disastrously. His own emotions and devotion to something that wasn’t you tainting the moment and turning it from heated excitement to sour devastation.

The bubbles only reminded him further of the time before that, when you had been propped over his lap, both of you bare and exploring each other’s supple and scarred skin for the first time in the dim candlelight of a bath. It had been…thrilling to see the way your eyes had been overtaken by the pleasure he pulled from you, the sounds you had made…Maker, it had been such a good moment and he wishes you felt that same comfortability around him again. He knows you must to an extent, because he doesn’t see you exchange words beyond pleasantries with anyone around the palace but him.

But even so, with your memory restored he was fully aware that you might not want to be with him in that way ever again. He would have you as you wanted him to, even if it was in no ways at all. His want for you to be comfortable, to be your own person far exceeding his own desires. He only wished you were to stay beside him, his protectiveness over you never waning and increasing as the days continued on, the same he was beginning to feel over the child. You were all three bonded.

And then the sudden appearance of your fiancé, the man who got to hold you and kiss you free of worries was there in the same room as you clad in nothing but a towel with your hair weighted down and damp. The touches he had seen up until that point had been nothing but fleeting, the touches he had witnessed next everything but, setting his blood to boil. The harsh way he had pressed himself to you, trailed his fingers over the sensitive skin between your legs he knew the feeling of all too well, the way he had been rough with you enough for you to cry out. It had been something he was unequipped to handle. His mind had gone blank as his vision hyper focused into stark lines and too bright colors as if he had activated a sensor for his helmet with the touch of button.

The quiet way you had followed him back to your room in a flowing robe with ad’ika cradled in your arms had been another thing he hadn’t been prepared for. The version of you he knew was strong, a fighter, not one to let such things slide. Serving well deserved justice to those who picked on you and those around you, on those who deserved it. The you in front of him now? She was scared, on edge, hesitant. And he didn’t like it at all.

“Mesh’la, you don’t have to heed his command.” He hears the way his voice is strong, but it isn’t for him.

No, all of his strength is for you. A flame he tries to keep healthy and bright even as the situation is something he’s quickly realizing may be far too deep for him to help you escape from.

“I do have to, he – he’s to be my husband, he has to be happy with me. My…my mother would do something if this was to all fall apart because of me.” His heart steels, you need him. You need him now more than you ever had, even back at that compound he happened across you in the largest stroke of luck and sheer circumstance he’s ever experienced.

You had unwittingly helped him, you and the child, to realize that while he devoted his life, mind, and body to the Creed and his way of life: he also needed something for himself. He had been…lonely, if he was completely honest with himself. Leading a life chasing after credits and determined to work any job, hunt any quarry, commit himself to more and more and more in order to achieve the goal of helping to perpetrate his kind long after the world had merely watched on as they were picked off one by one, scattered among the stars in a heartbreaking way.

You had helped him to realize that in order to do so, he needed a little bit of saving himself. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try to help and return the favor now that you needed it in more blatant ways than he ever did. He wanted to return the favor, he wanted you back in his arms, aboard his ship, laughing and sharing bits of food across a table that wasn’t a table. You had been blossoming into someone he felt intense emotion for, love for, someone he yearned to be back by his side and in his bed, whispered words of affirmation and the same love back to him beneath the sheets and in the darkness of his personal quarters. He missed you even with you standing a few feet away from him. Because the person standing before him certainly missed him, even if you didn’t realize it.

“Then leave.”

“Maker, I can’t do that. I don’t even know who I am.” The look you give him is so unlike any other he’s ever seen and it clatters inside his ribs, the urge to move forward and embrace you. But it would be a line crossed, to do so.

“But I do.” He decided to use his words instead, to try and hold you up.

“You what?”

“I know you. I know who you are.”

“From before?” The hope that curls around the simple question almost pulls the truth from him, he’s unsure why he falters in voicing it.

“From…from now. I know you, mesh’la, and you deserve better than this.”

“He’s…he’ll hunt me down. I know it, in my very bones I know it.” The words seem so matter-of-fact, as if you were aware of them subconsciously. The fear and life of solitude you had led because of the very notion of people being after you something your body remembered even if your mind could not. He recalls how isolated your home in the desert had been, how hard it had been to even find the humble building. How it must’ve been a mere shadow of the life you had lived up until that point, but one you had willingly created in order to avoid further conflict and loss.

But yet, here you were standing in front of him having lost everything that made you who you were.

“I’ll protect you.”

“Aliit, you have a child. You have a wife.” And there’s the anger he’s seen flare in you before, the will to not put up with things you didn’t agree with.

“I’ve told you, I do and I do not. She…she is much like you. In a situation she can’t control.”

“Then go save her.” You make it sound so simple, so easy a feat. If only you realized…but when you repeated the words with solid frustration he felt something brim over the top of his chest.

“I’m trying to!” He lets his own frustration get the better of him and he realizes his mistake when you cower. His own flames of anger and anxiety dousing yours to nothing but shadow and smoke.

“Apologies, I…shouldn’t speak so plainly with you. You are working, probably trying to earn credits to fix your situation. I apologize.” You won’t look at him, avoiding his eyes as he tries to catch them across the room. He’s messed up again, and now his punishment is delivering you to the door of the man who is about to do whatever he wants and you’re going to let him. To appease your mother, to fall in line with what you’ve been forced to believe are your duties.

“Mesh’la,” He steps close to you, now in the doorway to the large closet. His words trail off as you turn with a blank face so reminiscent of how you used to look at him. The robe is untied by your hands and falls to the ground. He averts his eyes, not wanting to impinge on your privacy even as you expose yourself to him.

“You heard him, he commanded you to dress me yourself should I not want to. Practically gave you permission to touch me, is that why you don’t want me to go. You want me all to yourself?” Digging into one of the elaborate boxes atop a shelf you throw whatever was inside it at him. It’s all lace and thin straps, a bright baby blue that looks like the shine of starlight on his armor when he polishes it in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. It makes him sick, stomach churning at the connection.

You’re breathing heavily, shoulders shaking and eyes tinging pink as he sees the tears you’re trying to fight off shine in the whites of your eyes as he dares to look up from the floor where the garment had fallen. “All men are the same, doing whatever they want. Taking whatever they want. At least this way I get something out of it, even if…even if it feels like it’s all wrong.”

Your words trail off, the power behind them waning as you refuse to break the connected gaze from him.

“It is wrong, he’s not…he’s doesn’t love you.”

“No one loves me.”

He freezes, taken aback by the conviction in your words even as you speak so quietly, your face still schooled into an expression of no emotion.

“No one’s come to my side after my accident. It’s as if…I had no life before it, no one who was by my side. It’s why, it’s why I’ve taken what my mother says as truth, there’s no evidence to suggest otherwise. Even if it does feel wrong.”

His chest aches, his heart crumbles and settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. He’s failing. He’s completely failing at his task of saving you. He’s making it worse, and he thinks again that maybe you’d be better off without him here mucking things up if you’ve accepted this as your life. You just said so yourself that it seems to be a good set up, better than anything you even remotely recall. But…it would be a betrayal to leave you in the hands of a woman who tormented and tortured you, manipulated you to her will alongside a man who was beginning to show his true colors.

He had. He had come to your side the second he had figured out where you were. But…but maybe it was too late. Your memories warped too much for him to bring them to the light. He thought…he thought he had seen glimpses of clarity in your eyes as he and Cara fight to keep you away from the mind flayer, from the doctor who was the reason for your lack of awareness.

“You have a wife.” You whisper, as if it was the one lie you were being fed that you didn’t want to accept.

“I do and I do not.” He repeats, unable to string together any other words as he sees the way you’re trembling. He’s about to throw the whole plan of slowly getting your memory and mind strong enough to tell you the truth, to blurt it all out in the hopes that it helps you to understand, but you’ve lost the spark of your old self as quickly as it had come to life and he’s missed his moment. Again.

“You have a wife and I…I cannot have you the way- you are not mine to want.” You seem to pull yourself from your inner musings, digging through another pretty package of ribbons and silk. The matching set is a soft pink and you pull on both pieces before bending to retrieve your robe. “Please escort me to Prince Cala’s room.”

The walk to the prince’s room had felt just as damning as the one he had taken to hand ad’ika over to the Imps.

Din begins to slip more Mand’oa into his conversations with you, hoping for recognition. Hoping to right his wrongs of that fateful night in which you had laid with another man. You didn’t talk of what happened, though he doubted he would be the first you would turn to should something of that caliber occur. He doesn’t ask, knowing that in the deepest part of who he was, he wouldn’t be able to handle the knowledge of your answer should you give him one.

He was being put on patrol of the grounds every morning, his night shift of watching over your hall given to others, never the same person. Probably due to Prince Cala’s command that no one is to get too close to you. But he traded with those who were given the post, giving away what little credits he had accumulated from being ‘employed’ by the palace and anything they voiced wishing they had. Cara making the trips into the city markets to retrieve whatever it was they wanted as she was shifted to duties to prepare for the wedding that loomed closer and closer.

The whole ordeal was reminiscent of his younger days, made it feel like he was back in training or just thereafter as he worked whatever and however many jobs he could get in order to prove for the covert. Though he was significantly older in years, the issue of not getting enough sleep only seemed to upset ad’ika. The child had become increasingly fussy, lashing out in the only ways he knew how and unfortunately one of those ways was slamming doors and throwing food.

The arrival of foreign people of all species to the city and to the palace in particular signal the days of your relative freedom coming to an end. Endless discussions of hushed plans are shared between him and Cara, as they realize they don’t have the currency of time on their side any longer. If there was one thing Din wanted to prevent, as if he truly had any control over things, was the binding of your person to another.

Two weeks, they had only two weeks and the days begin to fly by with no signs your memory returning.

Until he’s suddenly sat across from you one quiet night and you speak words of Mando’a back to him.

Ner kar’ta. Your voice sounds so sweet, so cherished in its damning innocence as you look to him with confusion in your glittering eyes.

Din’s moving from his seat beside you, kneeling before you in a way he never had with another. His hands holding yours and he revels in the warmth of them in his own. He carefully asks if you know what you just said, if you realize the enormity of what just happened, what had just fallen from your lips. He fills his heart swell when you say you think it means exactly what it does.

The words he’s only whispered to you once before as he lay bleeding and struggling to breathe, are repeated lowly. No longer a desperate plea for you to leave him behind, but an affirmation to bring you back to him.

He’s sure he’s far too focused, something he knows you don’t like, direct attention, deliberate attention.

But you’re looking back at him with the same sharpness in your eyes even as they remain partially shrouded, hope filling him and making his heart quicken as he searching for anything, for everything in them so close.

But then the door to your room, to the sanctuary you had both found is suddenly opening and the woman who had caused this entire ordeal is stepping over the threshold with a raised voice full of thinly veiled distrust and aggression born of fear.

Tension fills the room, your mother in the doorway while you and Aliit remain beside the small lounge set up of chairs, small sofa, and low table. The soft atmosphere between the two of you shattered as the woman barged into your room at far too late an hour. Making you wonder how often she had done so before your sleep had become hard to maintain. What was she doing checking on you under the cover of dark, midnight skies and twinkling stars? A pinch in the crook of your elbow, the column of your neck both flare to life and you worry for the things she could’ve done to you while asleep, before Aliit had taken over the post of night guard.

The rattling of fine porcelain trills, the cups of tea on small serving saucers Aliit had prepared in quiet seeming to irritate your mother as her eyes dart from the set up to the man behind you, to you. A glare marring her beautiful but aged features. Her skin pale unlike yours, though you were seeing underneath the mask you were realizing she always had carefully in place. Hiding and covering things she didn’t want others to see, didn’t want to reveal.

“Stop doing that!” She snaps, dominant hand pointing harshly at you and your body reacts far quicker than your mind. A hand of your own raising up and waving broadly, manipulating hers to lower to her side.

“Tell me.” You demand, patience gone and emotions focused. She sees something in you, at that moment, something that causes her to take a step back and it makes you feel powerful.

“You and the Prince were on holiday. Off on some crowded planet to enjoy in each other’s company as you shop and attend a gala in honor of the news of your engagement. Someone high up in the ranks of the New Republic happy of the coupling. Some startled you as they approached to congratulate you, always so jumpy, even as a young girl. You tripped over your dress, hit your head on the corner of a table.”

“Why don’t I have a mark from the fall?”

“What planet were we on before that allowed me to get the attention of Prince Cala?”

“We were home, darling. K’ath. He was interested in the armor we sell in the wharf.”

“You don’t let me make armor anymore.”

“No, Prince Cala wishes for you to learn other skills that are fitting for royalty of this planet.”

“I don’t mind that, but I wish to reclaim the one thing I can recall from before my accident.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I said no, San! I don’t know where this is all coming from, Maker you must be so confused. So out of it you’re manifesting things that simply aren’t true. This is your life, darling, this is it. What we had before…it was not what I wanted for you. But this – this is what you deserve. A nice place to spend your days with no stress, with no worries.”

“Leave.”

“Darling-“

“I wish to rest! Both of you leave, right this instant!” The rattling of the porcelain is loud, followed by a rather startling pop as the glass of one of the windows cracks.

“Remove your mask.”

Din keeps his eyes trained on hers, reading the woman with an intensity that only seems to fuel her distrust of him. He knows he hasn’t done the best at keeping his emotions in check while scouting out the palace and trying to remain close to you, he does. It was a task he hadn’t been prepared for in the slightest, something he realizes and feels shameful of. You needed him to be able to keep his head and to go about this mission as if it was any other, you needed him to be able to act as he always does: stealthily, calculated, levelheaded, deadly focused. But he wasn’t, his heart and emotions getting the better of him in a way that could be detrimental to your well-being, to your life, to his and to ad’ikas.

His pause, the twitch of his bare fingers upsets your mother further.

“There are people, someone in particular that may come after her.” She doesn’t budge, keeping her stance in front of the man back at his post outside your door. The moonlight filtering into the lantern light hallway barely enough to see the ire and suspicion in her expression. The slight resemblance to you unnerves him, the reality of this woman being tied to you by blood and fate too heavy a thought when you were so kind and good to him. “Remove your mask, Aliit.”

He doesn’t want to. He can’t. And certainly not for someone as ingenuine as your mother. But…for all the beskar he donned and had been able to share with you, for all the weapons he had in his cache to protect you, for all the skills he had developed over a lifetime, none of it had been able to prevent you from being taken away from him. His Creed had allowed for it to happen, even if it by way of inadvertency. So perhaps…perhaps the display of his face would be the one thing that had jumpstarted this entire situation would be able to salvage it. To give him the time and chance he needed in order to stay and work on allowing out to heal enough to know the truth.

Holding his breath, Din reaches up to unclasp the pin keeping the flowing piece over his cowl. It falls to the right side of his face as braces himself to lower the cowl with steady fingers, though his mind is anything but calm.

He never wanted to show his face, let alone to someone so unfounded in their own beliefs, if the woman had any. She wasn’t deserving, but you….he had been struggling with the desire to show you. But she was premature in her gloating victory, because she waves a hand at him just as he’s beginning to pull the fabric down. He stills, worried he’s been found out but that doesn’t seem to be the case as the woman’s stern face breaks.

“Oh, good. I was worried for a second.” She smirks, knowing she had won the heated exchange, the power of her command being heeded going to her head in the worst way. “No Mandalorian would be foolish enough to throw away their very Creed for someone like San. Maker, I love her. But she’s such a fool sometimes, a little misguided. No idea how she even caught the attention of the person who was supposed to bring her back to me. Must’ve used her body, since her head seems to be empty.”

Resisting the urge to snarl and show just how deep her words cut, Din just nods at her, bowing his head slightly before resetting his coverage over the cowl. An insult to him, he could internalize and ignore. But an insult to you was stirring his instincts to protect, to shield, to kill.

“What is the meaning of this? Sending my handmaidens away and ordering guards to follow me around from now on,” Prince Cala is sat on the edge of your bed, two guards on either side of the bed. It’s early, the sun barely cresting over the horizon and the sky shifting slowly from dark to light as it does so. Alit has to still be on the other side of the door where your mother had ordered him to remain for the rest of his shift, overriding the royal man’s direct orders.

“My dear San, I’ve sent your handmaidens to tend to things for the wedding. The ceremony will be in a week’s time.” He curls a hand around your wrist, bringing it up to kiss along your knuckles and down the inside of your arm. His lips are soft, but his touch feels wrong, it feels charged: changed. “You’re mine.”

He’s suddenly hovering over you, knees on either side of your waist and pinning you beneath the covers as he brings his face close to yours. His handsome features twisted into a smirk that made your insides lurch. His hands bring your own above your head, pressing them into the plush pillows and gripping far too tightly. Trying to squirm is useless as he lets all of his weight press into you, pushing the breath from your lungs and cutting off the shout you were about to make.

“That guard of yours is to be sent to patrol the city streets, he’s not to come near you again.” He repeats his possession of you, his lips beginning to trail hard kisses down your neck. His breath is hot and sticky against your skin and you try to close your eyes tights in an effort to make the moment go by quicker.

One of his hands trails down your body, boldly giving your chest a squeeze over the thin covers before it’s gone from you completely. But you don’t get to revel in the touch of him gone because there’s a metallic clink you hear the clicking of a syringe just moments before it’s plunged into your still trapped arm.

“No.” You can’t help the venom and distrust that seeps into your voice, the feeling of being trapped, of being herded consumes you and it’s ugly how it sticks uncomfortably to your insides. You had already partook in countless meals and cups of tea, strolls through the gardens and around the different buildings and halls of the palace. All in the name of entertainment for the guests you didn’t want to interact with. The feeling of being on display, of being paraded around annoying you beyond anything else had since you had woken up in that infirmary bed.

You didn’t like the attention, how direct it was. How people fawned over the tone of your skin in comparison to theirs, how they felt entitled to reach out and caress your skin or face when complimenting you or the dresses you wore.

Head pounding, you feel energy flow through you, something so foreign yet familiar. The same energy that had filled you back when you had confronted your mother a few nights ago. The very same that clattered porcelain and shattered glass though you hadn’t even been looking at either of those things, they were merely in the same expansive room as you. You had tried to focus, in the quiet solitary of that same room, your room, the only place you were truly left alone for only the hours of the night as Aliit dutifully looked over you from just inside the doorway.

His eyes watched you without giving you impression he was doing so with purpose as you tried and succeeded in harnessing it to move random objects around the room. It was…a powerful feeling to wield such a power.

It fills you now, as your mother turns to face you and you clench your fists at your sides to quiet the thought of using it against her. Something in your mind warning of you letting her know that you are conscious of it now, her reaction to seeing you unintentionally wield it telling you it was better kept a secret.

“Excuse me?” Your mother demands from where she has begun to lead you from within your quarters, she’s quick as she grabs at you, your hands twitching with the urge to push her away the second her fingers are curling around you.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” You flinch away from her, her touch far too tight around your wrists. It was as if you were shocked, your body recalling memories you couldn’t consciously do so and you feel the weight of metal heavy around your wrists in her hands around you, around your ankles and neck. Pulling you down, zapping you of any wherewithal for the body you inhabited. You close your eyes against the feeling, mind conjuring up the darkness of a room that feels far too familiar, that is filled faintly with the scent of salted air and willows native to your home world. “I wish to be alone in the week before I’m to be someone else’s.”

Breathing deep, the feeling of the air around you shifts to that of an arid land. Dry, bone-shattering heat suffocates you, your body too exhausted and dehydrated to even produce sweat. The cotton feel of your tongue thickens in your mouth as your head swims with the influence of narcotics and sedatives. The hush of a door opening blinds you even in your mind’s eye, a lone figure silhouetted in the front of the room you feel is so real around you.

A modulated voice speaks out, calling your given name and it startles you. The figure standing in front of you is swathed in shadows, making you believe it’s the one you had done your best to hide from until that very point. But the figure moves, revealing he’s not donning all black nor breathing with the assistance of a compressor.

He’s not the one who expertly wields a blade made of the same energy you feel coursing through you, red and blinding as it buzzes menacingly. The feeling of a handle is strong, the weight of it in your hands as the red spurs to life to form a weapon of your own. It diffuses to white and you feel a sense of calm, of kinship, of connection with the figure in front of you that you now know is armored in beskar.

Your eyes snap open and you seethe at the sight of your mother in front of you, of her still touching you, looming closer. She’s the reason for your feelings, every single one of them. The realization slams into you and it hurts. Your breath catches, lungs burning as you feel like no air is enough to breathe. You’re pulling away from her with more vigor, even as your mind swims at the lack of oxygen to function.

She’s the one who had first shackled you, keeping you under her control with the guise of hiding you away from those you had run home and away from. Their reach endless and their efforts never ceasing.

She was supposed to be a safe haven, someone you could return to after years of being separated. She was supposed to be someone who looked after you, protected you. But she had enslaved you instead, following in the footsteps of those you had run from though her power over you had been in the form of sedatives and metal so heavy it was debilitating. Not the same as the livelihood of someone you feel in your heart, someone who had since passed, someone who had given you a reason to live, taught you all he had to teach, cared for you with all the love he had to give. Donning the same metal you feel around your body, damning you where it had once saved you. The same metal you feel curling over your shoulders, a gift from someone truly good, who exuded care and honor. Someone who was associated with the one who had hunted then set you free.

Someone you could feel very close by. Accompanied by two others that called out to you in their familiarity as you stand in front of the woman who claims to be your mother even as she controls and tears you down to nothing more than errant thoughts she easily manipulates without a second thought.

“Darling, this is highly inappropriate.” You mother frowns, refusing to let you go, as if she knew the hold she had on you had crumbled away. “The medic should’ve…he should’ve fixed this.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me!” The commanding sound of your voice like a stranger’s in your own ears, someone who you don’t recognize. The windows of your room rattle, the tapestries float into the air, that power you feel deep in your very bones all around you, ready and willing to be harnessed.

“There is, San, you’re having delusions. The same thing happened to your father, that’s why I sent him away.” The woman insists, her knuckles whitening with the force she’s holding to you even as you step back, trying to get away from her. You raise your hands to push at her.

“That’s a kriffing lie!” You can’t help the burst of energy that flows from you, knocking you both to the ground. She’s yards away from you, her hands scrambling for something that had been flung from her pockets. A remote. Before you could even think of what it could be for, she’s pressing the button down in the center of it and your vision blacks out as something bright and burning flows through your veins.

Lethargic, your body is heavy as you leave the infirmary. Even as you move as silently as you can, mind humming with paranoia of being seen, of being tended to, of your mother. All you wanted right now was to see Aliit, to feel the calm only his presence seems to bring you. Especially as the wedding draws near the palace compound become crowded with guests invited by the king and queen, far too many of them displaying New Republic badges and pins. Something that was spiking adrenaline and worry in you for reasons you didn’t know. They had once been helpful, you thought, as the war raged on and landed on the shores of K’ath, their aid had helped to keep the economy afloat and food on the table.

But now, the mere mention and sight of their affiliation sent your instincts into a hum, the feeling of needing to run settling deep in every muscle of your body.  

The room you were in was small, but done up as a bedroom. Colorful tapestries and a four post bed complete with a headboard that had metal rings fastened at the top that unnerved you the longer you gazed up at them from where you lay against the pillows.

The guards are playing some sort of dice game, gathered at the end of the hall when you peek out of the door to the main part of the infirmary. A flash of lightning brightening the scene for you to see as clear as if it was the middle of the day, not well into the night at the only source of light was the lanterns fastened to the walls.

As you round the last corner to the hallway that held your bedroom, the safety of which you were seeking out, thunder rumbled outside. The storm was picking up, the rain falling down in sheets when you pass by a window. The wind shifts and the rain lashes against the windows in a manifestation of your heightening anxiety.

Just as you step into the hall, lightning strikes something far too close. The sharp crack of it hurting the very nerves of your body. The tall, wide shadow in the hall that turns to face you distorts from vague darkness to shiny metallic. The figure is swathed in beautiful armor for a the briefest of moments until the hallway is thrown back into darkness.

But it happens again as the lightning begins to stream down from the storm clouds as heavy as the rain.

The light of the lanterns bouncing off the polished surface of the glinting armor as the man begins to walk towards you. The dark visor across the sporadic flash of a helmet blends into the darkness, making it hard to gauge exactly who it is beneath. It’s overwhelming, the streaks of blinding light through the windows, an assault on your eyes and mind as you try to right yourself from where you must’ve leaned into the wall.

Thunder sounds and you realize you had tensed up, muscles protesting the steps you so desperately want to take, just a few yards to the door. To your room, to safety.

You feel a harsh current flow through your body again, sending you crashing to the floor as your words turn into a scream. Thunder drowning out the sound as it echoes in the hall, rain beating down against the windows. The figure now only a few feet away rushes to your side, catching you just before you could crumble completely. His arms are strong around you, cradling you as you thrash and convulse as more currents strike through your body, no longer a distant occurrence outside of the windows. Seemingly in time with the lightning lighting up the sky in blinding flashes.

But it’s not armor that you feel against your body, it’s the soft give of flesh beneath flowing fabric. Heart thudding at the realization, you realize that the armor hadn’t alarmed you, it had calmed you in its fleeting appearance. It had ben familiar, it had felt like…it had felt like something that had been missing from you the moment you had woken up in a bed and city you didn’t recognize. The presence of a shadowed figure you had tried to fill with the prince, only for it to not fit snuggly together like puzzle pieces. It felt so similar to how Aliit’s presence soothed you.

It must be him, you think as you feel yourself slump against the ground, the figure holding you lowering you both to the ground as the storm raged on. As you gazed up at him through bleary eyes, the silver armor glinted, the darkness of a visor glittered in the flashing light, and then it was clouded by the backs of your eyelids as you felt another current ravage your body. Behind them, you see the crisp image of the armored man standing atop a ramp leading to a ship, a small green figure in his arms as he turns to you and your heart jumps, the prickling of tears sharp as you realize what’s been missing all this time. What’s been hidden in plain sight beside you this whole time.

“San, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s-“ His voice is unmodulated, no vocoder distorting it. But it’s him and your heart swells.

“Din.” You breath out, eyes snapping open and finding his own. The man you loved was staring back at you, his helmet, his armor, all of it was gone to reveal a sliver of his face to you.

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[another-lost-mc]

candy prompts: mephistopheles + spooky

you are bestowed as a gift to one of the vampire prince's most loyal subjects, mephistopheles.

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. dark vampire au. mentions of canon-typical vampire behaviour (mind control, blood-drinking, murder of humans); abduction and non-consensual touching/bathing; derogatory language used to describe reader/humans; suggestive thoughts towards reader; non-con mentioned/threatened but not carried out.

word count: 1.9k don't ask

a/n: takes place sometime after my vampire!diavolo fic (recommended but not required reading).

Mephisto could hardly believe it, but according to his very rigid standards, you were perfect—for a human, anyway.

He received a letter that was delivered to his ancestral home earlier that evening. His lord wanted to reward his unwavering loyalty and friendship and summoned him to the Vampire Lord's Castle to claim it. When he entered the room where he was told his special gift was waiting for him, he found you.

The young prince was known for hosting the finest hunts and parties in the realm, and the selection of humans for both events were sublime in appearance and taste. However, Mephisto had never seen anyone—human, vampire, or otherwise—as lovely as you before. It's as though his lord searched the world for the single human that suited all of Mephisto's very specific preferences as a blood donor and a lover. Hunger and lust warred within him, a rare feeling that made him giddy with sinful anticipation. As his eyes roamed your body hungrily, he realized he wanted to use you to satisfy all his desires tonight.

Before you were brought to him, Mephisto realized you had been prepared for his use; he could faintly detect the lingering scent of herbal soap and body oils used to soften your skin. You were dressed in a simple black robe, fastened loosely with a belt at your waist for easy access to your naked body underneath. Like the linens that covered the bed, the dark clothes you wore would mask the stains of blood and whatever else he might smear across your skin before the night was through.

Mephisto's mouth watered despite the slightly pungent hint of fear that radiated off you in waves. Your eyes widened fearfully under his scrutiny but as he dared to step closer, you didn't move. He realized you were immobilized with magic, and it was up to him to decide when—or if—you would be free of your invisible shackles tonight.

The vampire servants that bathed you earlier giggled as they scrubbed your skin with soap and massaged the lather onto your scalp. They spoke about you like you weren't even there, as if you couldn't hear every scathing word about your plain looks and repulsive stench. They washed away the evidence of your struggle when your abductors captured you; you scraped your hands and knees on the ground when they subdued you in a grungy alley near your work.

The servants also cooed about Prince Diavolo's kindness and how lucky Lord Mephistopheles was to have such a generous benefactor. You shivered despite the scalding water in the tub. These were nothing like the vampires in the cheesy romance novels you used to read. You didn't want to imagine the purpose a monstrous prince or one of his lords would have for you.

Another vampire observed quietly while you were being prepared, blending into the shadows of the room and giving soft-spoken commands to the servants. You never heard his name, but he seemed to be someone of great importance; the servants were quick to obey him.

You burned with shame when you were finally pulled out of the bathwater and dried off with a large, soft towel. The vampire's pale face and dark eyes were no less intimidating when he stepped from the darkness to scrutinize your appearance. His mouth twitched with amusement when you cowered under his gaze and tried uselessly to hide your nakedness from him.

It was a small mercy when one of the servants slipped a drab robe onto your shoulders and cinched it tightly at the waist. The cruel vampire finally nodded his approval and commended the others doing their prince's bidding with speed and efficiency. He commented that you were now an appropriate gift, worthy enough for the noble demon lord. His praising tone, the way one might compliment a finely cooked piece of meat, made your blood run cold; you realized at that moment that you were probably going to die tonight.

Before you could stammer a useless plea for mercy, he snapped his fingers. You were suddenly gagged with a thick strip of cloth that seemed to appear out of thin air and tied tightly behind your head. Your arms and legs were immobilized as if they were suddenly bound in chains. You couldn't speak and you couldn't move—you were powerless to fight back.

The vampire lifted you easily in his arms and carried you to another room. It was sparsely furnished except for a large bed, and you knew a terrible fate worse than death awaited you there. Tears welled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric that muffled your cries. Salty tears dried your skin and chapped your lips. The vampire prince's butler was immune to your grief and bowed primly at the waist, an elegant but spiteful gesture, before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

You were left alone with no chance of escape, shrouded in near-darkness. A single lighted sconce flickered so that flames danced along the walls, teasing you with comfort but providing none. It felt like an eternity when the sound of heavy boots approached the door. You closed your eyes when a key turned in the lock with a metallic click. You were afraid to look at the vampire lord who stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Mephisto circled you slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation of tonight's feast simmer deep in his belly. He could practically hear the warm blood that pumped erratically in your veins with each moment that passed in tense silence. His eyes lingered on the unmarked column of your throat and your body beneath the flimsy robe you wore. He imagined sinking his fangs into you while he buried himself in the tight heat between your thighs and it made his cock twitch.

He finally stopped in front of you and leaned close to scent you properly. The strength of his spicy cologne overwhelmed you. His leather gloves tracing over the dried trail of tears on your cheeks and you shivered.

"You are remarkably beautiful, even in despair," he murmured. The barbed compliment left you speechless like an icy wind on a dark winter's night; the arm that circled your waist didn't offer any warmth. He slipped two of his gloved fingers underneath the scarf still tied between your lips. You tasted earthy leather when he slipped his fingers into your mouth and brushed them over the tip of your tongue. He finally pulled his fingers away when you gagged, tugging the silky material over your chin so it laid loose and damp around your neck.

"Sleep," he commanded softly, eyes glowing gently in the dark room. His voice was deep and gritty from hunger and desire, but you blinked at him fearfully when nothing happened.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Sleep," he urged again, putting more magic behind the command; his voice was sharper and louder than before. His face darkened when that simple magic failed him again, and the heat in his eyes hardened like steel. His body thrummed with frustration and you shook your head pitifully, but your helplessness seemed to enrage him further.

The world spun when he suddenly pushed you chest-down onto the bed. His body was a heavy weight laid against your back, and he caged you underneath him even though you had no possible chance of escape. His hot breath fanned across your nape and you jolted in his arms when the outline of his erection twitched against your lower back.

Later he would wonder why such a perfectly insignificant creature like you was immune to his magic. For now, all he felt was embarrassment that soured his temper and made his anger soar.

I'll remind you of your place, he thought to himself bitterly, incensed by your mind’s stubborn refusal to submit to him. He grabbed your chin roughly and tilted your head to the side so he could sniff where your heartbeat was strongest. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest and then you felt searing hot pain when he sank his fangs into your neck without remorse.

His bite was deep and fierce in his frustration and hunger. He drank noisily and messily, gnawing at the wounds he made so your blood spilled freely. His lips slurped at the deep crimson rivulets that ran down your throat and dripped onto the bed. His hips moved on their own accord, seeking friction for his aching cock against your warm and pliant body while he nursed his wounded pride with the blood in your veins.

The toxic secretion from his fangs was supposed to fill your mind and body with euphoria, but whatever pleasure he gave you was outweighed by the carelessness of his feeding. Your body jerked against him, but the urge to fight him dwindled quickly as exhaustion from blood loss fell over you like a heavy fog. You were perilously close to death, and you succumbed to your hopeless fate. Your heartbeat grew faint with each pulse of blood that poured from your wound and into his greedy mouth.

Even in his frenzy, Mephisto felt the moment you lost consciousness underneath him. He wondered why he cared. Why should he care? You were his gift to use and discard at his leisure. He could drain you dry and leave your wilted corpse on the bed for the servants to dispose of later. He would thank his lord for his generosity.

His memory of you, like your very existence, would eventually be forgotten.

Unless...?

He pulled away from your neck with a gasp. His mouth was slick with syrupy blood that coated his lips and trickled down his chin. He swallowed hastily and leaned forward to inspect your wounds. He touched his tongue to your neck and laved over the jagged tears he bit into your flesh. He silently urged his healing magic to close the wounds and stop the bleeding.

He didn't want to think too much about the overwhelming relief he felt when the marks closed and faded away. Later he would wonder why this magic worked when his charms earlier did not; for now, he had to ensure you were cared for.

When he lifted himself off you and stood next to the bed, he inspected the damage he'd done to your body and the bed. The linens and the top of your robe were soaked through with your blood. He slipped his hands beneath you so he could roll you onto your back. Despite the deathly pallor that tinted your complexion, your face was completely relaxed. He leaned over you and rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip. A bit of blood left on his gloves spread across your lips, and he thought red was a fetching colour on you.

Perhaps later you'd wake up with the taste of blood on your tongue. He wondered what your bloody kiss might taste like if he pressed his mouth to yours. Only when his nose brushed against your cheek did he notice how close he came to kissing you, like some invisible power drew him to you against his will.

He pulled away quickly like he had been burned and only spared you a fleeting glance before gathering his coat and rushing from the room. You were a mystery to solve, and he would pry the answers from you one way or another. But first, he had arrangements to make: you were his now.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

[lilac--sugar]

The Epitome of Spring

Summary: It was more of a joke than anything when Astarion suggested a bathhouse. Even more so when Karlach tacked on a nice meal and a large round of beer at a nearby tavern. Yet, after a long and rough few days it was all the gang wanted. (Late act 3. Spoilers in general but specifically: Spoilers for Astarion's Quest, Gale's Quest, and Wyll's Quest.) Pairing: Unascended Astarion/Tav!Reader (gn!Tav) (Tav race with a shorter lifespan in mind) I also wrote it with my Tav, Kieran, in mind (pictured above). If there are any mentions that contradict this being gender-neutral please point it out and I will gladly adjust it! 💜 Rating: E (18+ Minors Do Not Interact!) Content Warnings: (In order of appearance) Cussing Throughout, Near Death Experience Trauma, Heavy Angst (that gets solved rather quickly), Smut (starts halfway through 2.4k mark), Blood (Astarion feeding from Tav) (not a warning but it does end in fluff). (If I missed any please let me know!) Word Count: 4.8k Author's Note: Not betaed. I did my best to comb it over. If you see any mistakes please feel free to point it out! But do so kindly, please.💜 Also, there is some dialogue used that came from the game (iykyk). (Also this was posted last night but I just woke up and checked and it wasn't on the feeds I tagged it in. If the post does exsist please let me know and I'll fix it!)

The last few days had been incredibly harrowing. You’d thought that once you’d entered Baldur’s Gate things would have settled down some. Of course, there were loose ends that needed to be tied but the stakes kept getting higher. Almost impossibly high. Just about literally knocking on Death’s door. You can still hear the loud clanking, hand grasped tight to the metal rung of the ladder, body numb from adrenaline. All wrapped up in the fear that this was it, that you’d be snuffed out of existence, topped with the bow of worry about one man and what might become of him should you not make it.

“Darling?” Astarion’s hand waves in front of your face and you blink back to reality, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just,” you take in a deep breath, your lungs aching for air and you didn’t even realize, “zoned out.”

His brow knits together in concern, but you don’t bother to look up at him. Can’t stand it. Don’t want to think of that face he made, still just a few hours fresh in your memory.

It all seems rather silly now, being stood in the middle of Baldur’s Gate’s finest bathhouse all awash in melancholy. It was more of a joke than anything when Astarion suggested a bathhouse. Even more so when Karlach tacked on a nice meal and a large round of beer at a nearby tavern.

Yet here you were in a building the size of a palace. The House of Relaxation. Every last inch of it was gilded in luxury. Built with warm sandstone polished to perfection, flex of copper glittering throughout. Etched into the stone were runes of all kind. Upon closer inspection you’d realized they were invocations of relaxation and healing. There were pamphlets left on the counter explaining all of their services. From massages to solitary baths down to more extravagant options that included happier endings. Not one for too much pomp, you opt for something more humble, something that sounded a bit enchanting.

“Uh,” Astarion was there at your shoulder as you paid the attendant and gathered your bathing token, robe, and towel, “Which one did you go for?” he asks, trying to catch a glimpse of your token.

“Something basic,” you say, tucking it between the folds of the towel.

“I rather hoped we could do something together,” his voice is soft, cracking just slightly with something. Disappointment? Sadness? Your heart sinks but you don’t turn around, don’t know what to say really. Frozen in place, mouth suddenly dry.

You can see from the corner of your eye Gale eyeballing the two of you as he often does. With him and Astarion sharing a little corner at camp it made things too easy for him to eavesdrop, feigning like he was lost in thought.

“Oh, go on Fangs!” Karlach lands a rather impactful slap across Astarion’s back, “we all know you don’t do basic! Go ahead and get one of those fancy package deals!” She plops a pamphlet in his hands, “There ya go!” She points down to it, “The Goodberry trio! Facial, massage, and luxury honey bath! Sounds like your deal!”

“Uh, yes, I suppose it does,” he still sounds rather dejected, another pang to your heart.

“When we’re all done we’ll go to the tavern down the street, get something cheap and cheerful!” She ruffles at his hair, “You’ll see your sweet Tav there! And we can head to camp all refreshed and our bellies full!” She smiles wide at him, “Besides! Me and them got the same thing so I’ll keep an eye on them. No worries, Fangs!” As she says the last part she moves to you, tossing her arm over your shoulder.

“Right,” he turns to the counter with a deep sigh. You turn to dare a glance. He looks dejected just like you thought. You feel ill at the sight. Karlach hastily herds you away.

“Karlach,” you say in a hushed tone, “I don’t-“

“I know, doll,” She winks at you, pressing a finger to the side of her nose, “We all need our time alone. I don’t blame Astarion for wanting to be with you after what happened last night. But I also understand that you need your time to process it. I just wanted to help in some way,” she pulls away once the two of you enter the public showers, “If ya need someone, I’ll be in the,” She pulls her token out to read it, “Drunken beer bath falls!” She gives you a warm smile before disappearing into a section of the showers.

Public as the showers were, they were still individual stalls, marble walls and black silken curtains for privacy. You slide into one and turn the water on. The shower hisses to life, coming out shockingly cold. The noise, the feeling of the cold water against your skin- you gasp and press back against the cool marble wall.

A flash of The Iron Throne flitters behind your eyelids. You press a hand to your chest. You and your party had decided to split up. Wyll would get his father, Astarion would get Omeluum. You’d get some prisoners down another corridor and Karlach stayed in the main chamber to take down Sahuagin warriors as much as she could. In your stupidity you’d gone back to help a cell you’d mistakenly walked away from. Determined to help them it cost you so much time. You’d barely made it out. The hatch to the submersible was closing on you. Survivors shouting to go. Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach screaming to wait just a second longer.

That’s when you knocked on the hatch with all your might. Hand holding onto the rung with some strength you can’t even fathom now. Your body goes weak thinking about that moment.

Astarion was the one that pulled you up, looked as though he had been ready to dive back down in there after you. His wide eyes full of tears, the fear. The fear in those eyes.

You’d launched yourself up with your legs at the same time he pulled you. The two of you becoming a mess on the floor of the ship. Silence fell over everyone as Astarion held you against his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He’d shushed you, told you to let it out as you sobbed into him. You weren’t one to cry but that moment made you realize something about you and your relationship with him. An undeniable truth that couldn’t be ignored forever. Forever. The word hurts.

You seem to phase back into yourself. Pressed back against the wall, the water has gone scalding. How long had you let it run? How long had it been burning your feet? You’re quick to turn the temperature down, wincing as your feet burn. You press a hand to one of the healing runes and little to your surprise the burning goes away. Healed. Feet normal again.

With a sigh you carry on with your shower, using the milk and honey toiletries they’d provided.

You slip out of the showers, realizing they’d only given you one towel.

Knowing you were moments from getting wet again anyway, you slip on your silk robe. The smooth fabric clinging to your wet form. You shrug as you grab up your towel and head down to the ‘Nymph Forest’ room. There had been many themed rooms but that one sounded the most whimsical to you.

You turn the corner into the room, body instantly welcomed with the gentle caress of damped leaves. A small pathway into the room opens up into a clearing. Golden sunlight shines down from a lush canopy above, casts the room in shadows and sunbeams. You can’t help but notice dew drops on the leaves act like prisms, a dance of rainbows swirl around you as you walk through. The ground beneath your feet is a soft lush moss, smooth stepping stones placed here and there. Bakers fern brushes at your ankles, sprinkled through them are different wild flowers in an array of colors. Purple foxglove, lily of the valley, pink bleeding-hearts. There are magnolia trees framing the edge of the crystal clear water. The bed of the faux pond is smooth stone like the rest of the building but the copper dances and glitters as the water ripples above.

How this was one of the more basic options you really weren’t sure.

You place your towel to the side over a rather conveniently placed overgrown root, designed to look natural but definitely a bench. No one else is around. Perhaps not many people prefer an overgrown forest like yourself. With a satisfied sigh you dip a toe into the water. Perfect if not just the tiniest bit too warm.

You undo the tie of your robe, let it fall down your shoulders.

“Tav?” Astarion’s voice is soft, tapering off in a wavering sense of unsurety.

You nearly jump out of your skin, quick to pull your robe up, doing the tie once again. You glance over your shoulder but there’s no one to be found.

“I’m sorry. I feel like you wanted some time alone, and trust me I plan to give you that,” he says. You turn your eyes away, focusing on the way the sunlight glitters off the water, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Ever since last night you’ve been distant. It was horrible, the whole situation, but I’m worried that you’re not so much,” there’s a pause, he’s swallowing a lump in his throat, “in need of alone time but more pushing m- us- away.”

The sound of water lapping at marble fills the air in the wake of conversation.

“I know I’m just being insecure and darling, please, take all the time that you need, but, know that I’m here and as long as you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

You turn back again, look around the corner and can see him pressed back against the wall of the hallway, facing away from you.

“Astarion,” you can’t help how tenderly his name falls from your lips. You’re scared you’re giving false hope as he blinks, surprised. He turns himself to look at you, you’ve never seen him look more like a lost puppy.

“How did you know which room I’d be in?”

“Well,” he twirls a hand through the air, “I might have taken a peek at the attendant’s ledger when he turned away,” he shrugs trying to hide his sheepishness, “But, uh- I don’t want to intrude, darling, I just wanted to let you know.”

“I know. And I want you here. Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to cross over to you. Adorned in his own silken robe, towel clutched in his hands. You gently take it from him, toss it onto the bench next to yours.

“We’ve always been honest with each other,” you start, “well, at least since you confessed to me back in the Shadow Cursed Lands anyway,” you follow up, causing him to purse his lips. It was something he still felt the faintest amount of guilt over.

You reach out and take his hands in your own.

“I think,” you take a deep breath, look up at the canopy of leaves, trying to gather yourself, “we should end this,” you say, finally looking back at him, knowing you owe him at least that.

“Oh shit,“ heartbreak and shock spread across his face and your heart cracks in half. Your words, his face, you feel like you’re going to be violently ill, “I- Did I do something wrong? Why? What’s changed?”

“I’m just scared of hurting you. I’m scared that one day I’ll die and leave you alone. I saw the look on your face when you pulled me up on the submersible. I can’t stand the thought…” Your eyes start to water. You close them in an attempt to stop from crying but it’s all feeble as the tears fall down your cheeks. With a thick swallow you nod your head, “It’s easier now when you don’t love me too much, while you aren’t so attached.”

You hear him let out a small laugh, open your eyes to find him with a sad smile, “Too late for that, my love. This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can’t let our lives be ruled by fear or else we never really live. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of our future. When I said I wanted you, I knew what I was getting into. And when I said I didn’t want to lose that, I meant it. Now, if you have an issue with committing to an immortal,” pain spreads over his face, “I understand that and I won’t hold you back from what you truly want.”

“I have no issue in the slightest,” you say, stepping closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“Good, darling, besides, there’s plenty of things that can be done,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, melting into the embrace, “we can try to find me a cure and you can learn Timeless Body at some point. That’d put us on level playing fields. Or perhaps make you immortal somehow? If that’s something you want?”

“Anything,” you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, “anything. I don’t care. As long as I’m with you.”

The two of you rest in easy silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other. After a moment he hesitantly pulls back from you.

“Are you ok aside from that? I know how terrifying it is, standing on the brink, looking out and seeing nothing but the dark void of death,” He cups your face, kisses you softly over your eyes. His thumb swiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “Are you going to be ok?”

“In time,” you say, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Doesn’t help my fear of krakens much,” you’re trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, there were hardly any there,” he grins at you.

“No, but it’s just another layer to it all. Didn’t care much for the sea because of it before and now, kraken, being swept into the sea and drowning,” you shrug, “I think I’ll just carry a general fear of it from now on.”

“Fair enough, reminder, no dates out on a boat. Though, yachts are so nice,” he sees you shake your head, smile on your face, “oh well, Siilen's faen*. There’s plenty of other things I can treat you to. Right now, though, my sweet, I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Deadly.”

“Well, then,” his grin grows.

“Astarion,” you pull away from him. He tilts his head, watching your form as you walk backwards from him, “If I’m going to try living again. I’d like to do so with everything life has to offer.”

“Are you sure? Are you in the right headspace?” he asks, following you like a moth to flame.

“Oh yes. If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded,” you say, being coy with his own words. You lean back against the tree, tilting your head to expose your neck.

“Darling,” he comes to you, presses his index finger under your jaw, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “let me see what I can do,” his fingertip traces down the expanse of your neck, circling down and over your collar bone, pushing your robe open just a bit.

You sigh softly, watching him through heavily lidded eyes. His fingers slide under the lapel of your robe, cool knuckles brushing over your chest, over sensitive skin that prickles under his touch.

He leans over you, his other arm resting next to your head against the tree. With his nose he nudges your cheek, causing you to tilt your head the other way.

You lean into him, go to kiss him but he pulls back slightly with a ‘tut’, shaking his head. With a soft, nearly frustrated, sigh you press your head back against the tree again.

Pleased, he leans back in, running his tongue over your bottom lip, then the top. Your lips part in anticipation for his but he remains a hairsbreadth away. His knuckles brush lower, leaving your chest and going lower, and lower. Your stomach flutters and a choked noise escapes you. He breathes it in, cool air flowing over your wet lips.

“Astarion,“ you say his name as a whispered prayer, sacred worship.

“Tav? Oh! I’-” your own name but not from Astarion’s lips. You don’t care, as you open your eyes, you only look to Astarion. You keep eye contact with him. His hand drops from you, eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

“Gale,” He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, “hold on, darling,” he whispers to you. His eyes fall on Gale, aiming a glare at him so finely honed from years of brooding it could level a small village, “My friend, my pal, my,” he grimaces just slightly, “buddy,” for what it was worth, Astarion, and you for that matter, did rather like Gale. It was just his persistency in the face of the two of you being an item that really got Astarion’s metaphorical blood, boiling.

“As you can see, sweet Tav here is rather occupied at the moment. With me. Their partner. Darling?” He turns to you and it takes you a second to pull your eyes from him, transfixed by him still.

“I’m sorry Gale,” you say, finally managing to look over at him, “I’ve tried to tell you so many times.”

“No, it’s me. I just, sorry, I just wanted someone to talk to. I’m seeing Mystra tomorrow-“ he sighs deeply, “I had hoped.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. Gale only waves you off, shaking his head, “Karlach is in the,” you pause trying to remember, “Drunken falls? She’s a great ear.”

“Right, I’ll go do that. Thank you,” awkwardly he slips out of the room.

You look back to Astarion who has a mix of adoration and contemplation on his face.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You’ve got a tender heart,” he says finally.

“Do not,” you protest, scoffing out a laugh.

“You do. I can feel it when we kiss,” his fingers move, come up to press under your jaw, right at your pulse, “I can feel it fluttering under my hand. Delicate like a little bird. You’re so sweet to everyone, even when they deserve to be told off.”

“He’s lonely, confused, hurt.”

“He’s bullheaded and taking advantage. He saw how you went off without me earlier,” he shakes his head, “an opportunist. I don’t blame him for trying but I do wish he’d stop. We’re together and everyone has recognized that but him.”

“I don’t want to think about Gale right now,” you say, taking hold of his arm, moving his hand up to cup your cheek, “kiss me, for Gods sakes, kiss me.”

He does. Softly at first, but you reach out, curl your fingers into his robe, pull him closer to you. Pleasure. One of the greatest highlights of life. Pleasure with the one you love, even more so. Hands move with expert precision, robes pushed off forms, bodies exposed.

The contrast of his cool body against your warm one causes you to hiss. He reaches under you, scoops you up under your ass and wraps your legs around him. You push back against the tree and cause the two of you to fall back into the open bath.

He gasps. You laugh. As if on cue the magnolia trees that line the bath release themselves of their flowers. Hundreds of pink and white petals falling all around you.

“You wild thing,” he says, coming up for air, “give a man a warning next time,” he scolds, and you grin across the water at him.

“Come here,” you say, taking perch on the smooth steps of the bath. Your body open for him, legs parted, arms resting back against the edge, “let me kiss you better.”

“Brat,” he mumbles. However, he can’t stay mad, not when there are petals adorning your hair and shoulders. His sweet, tender Tav. You look like the epitome of Spring. He knows you are with how you‘ve blossomed life back into the Winter of his own. He thinks Spring used to be his favorite, in a life long ago, knows it will be again.

“Takes one to know one,” you tease as he crosses over to you. He brushes petals off your shoulder and kisses you once more, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, asking permission. You tilt your head and grant it.

You press up against him, hips grinding. He moves a hand down, working it against you, his thumb swirling softly. You moan against his lips.

“Taste me,” you breathe out. Astarion nudges your head with his own, causes you to expose your neck for him once more. He presses his lips to the delicate expanse, “please,” you just about beg and he licks up the side of it, the cool air of his breath causes you to shiver under him. His thumb applies more pressure, wrist twisting just right, and shivers turn to writhing, “fuck!”

“That’s it, darling, I do love your little trembles of pleasure,” he coaxes. His other hand comes down, the pads of his finger pressing against your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please,” you manage to say through a moan and he slips a finger in, eases in and out, rocking ever so slightly, down right teasing. You push back against his hand, your fingers going into his hair, you curl them, gently tug.

“No foreplay tonight?” he teases and you honestly adore it any other time but right now you need him. You need to feel this connection, to feel alive with him.

Gently, he eases his other finger in, rocks them in and out of you. His lips are at your neck and you tug again.

“Ask nicely, nibblet,” he murmurs, gliding his lips across the delicate skin there, dotting it with the slightest graze of his teeth.

“Please,” you whimper and he obliges, fangs sinking deep into your neck. Ice cold and yet the edge of pain mixed into your pleasure is delicious. You let out a cry, his name is a song from your lips. He curls his fingers up and hits that spot deep inside of you. His hands now working in unison. He goes to pull away from your neck, not wanting to be too greedy, “No, don’t stop. Oh Gods, fuck me, please,” you beg but he knows his limits with this. Just when he’s about to stop, the water around you charges up in a golden glow, and a rush runs through you. You’ve been restored and fresh blood comes pooling out of you, running down your neck, your chest, twisting through the water and white petals like smoke.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps and you press down against his hand again. He removes his fingers, realizing just how ok you are going to be. Limits be damned here. His free hand goes to your hip, his cock pushing lightly at your entrance. You meet him half way, surprising him a bit. He groans against your neck as he sinks deep inside you. Hotter than the bath and ten times more pleasurable. You are his favorite thing to sink into.

With free reign he drinks more deeply than he’s ever done before. The two of you rock your hips in unison, him hitting that spot inside you so perfectly. His other hand working you, never ceasing, thumb switching up in pressure here and there but still swirling perfectly over you.

You are brought to the precipice of darkness, warm numbness spreading over you before the water glows and restores you again. It’s on the third time that you feel the insurmountable heat pool up in the pit of your stomach. You’ve become a mess under him. Moaning and crying out his name. Damn the Gods his was the only name you need remember. The only name you needed to pray to. Your body trembles, the waves of hot pleasure building higher and higher until they crash down over you. You finish under him. You feel him pull back to look at you. You open your eyes, knowing he wants to see you, all of you, see your soul as you reach your release. He wants to see you blossom under him, finds you absolutely gorgeous as you do. It takes a minute later, before he tenses up over you, finding his own release in you. His head falls, forehead pressing to yours. Your breath mingles and you kiss softly, coming down off both your highs.

“Astarion,” your voice is almost weak as if all of this has made you lose it. He pulls back from you, softly licks your neck and down your chest. He doesn’t want to waste a drop of your precious life that you’ve given to fill his. He’s fuller than he’s ever been, the happiest too, he’s sure. It takes the two of you another moment before he slips away from you completely, the two of you wanting to keep that connection for as long as you could. Not willing to leave the other’s touch he turns around in your arms. His back to your front. You wrap your legs around his waist.

The water shimmers silver now and all traces of blood and whatever else have been cleaned from the water. The petals and flowers remain, drifting in the gentle current of the water around you.

“Do you think it’ll be a shock to you?” you ask after a moment.

“What?” he asks in turn, resting his head back over your shoulder.

“When you see your face again. You know, if we find a cure,” You rest your own head against his shoulder. The two of you becoming an amorphous blob, “And I know we’ve gotten you a statue from Stoney and Oskar painted you. But I suspect it’s not the same.”

“Ah,” he watches the sunbeams shimmer through the canopy of leaves above, “No, not quite. They’re great, don’t get me wrong. But they still feel a little separated. Not quite… me.”

“I’ve been thinking,” you say.

He hums in response.

“The courthouse.”

“What about it?”

“Well, they must have paintings of previous magistrates hanging up, no?”

“I-“ He turns his head, attempts to look at you, “I suppose.”

“You think maybe they have one of you? Would that feel less surreal or maybe more so?”

“I don’t know,” he looks off in thought now, certain that what you suggested might just be right.

“You could be in the library’s archives, too.”

“Gods, you really are something, aren’t you?” he sounds astounded and you duck your head into his shoulder, feel your cheeks burn at his praise.

“I wonder what color your eyes were,” you try to change the subject, can’t stand being complimented for long, even from him like you so adore.

“Perhaps a vibrant green. Something distinguished,” he turns his head, kissing the top of yours from your hiding spot.

“Nah, Astarion,” you lift your head, kissing the corner of his lips, “your parents probably named you for how you looked but also what they’d hoped you’d be. Hair like starlight, eyes strikingly blue, perhaps with flex of gold. All together they thought you’d be a beacon to bring hope and guide those who are lost.”

He huffs out a laugh, “A beacon of hope? Guiding those who are lost?”

He’s laughing in your arms, finding it absurd. Still, the thought causes trembles of happiness to spill out from him and you smile, pressing it against the crook of his neck.

“You could be. Maybe we’ll help the spawn once this is all over? You could be just that for them.”

He’s still giggling, wiping at his eyes as tears had started to fill in them, all happy you’re assured, “We could do that. Those pour souls need a leader. All of them are so tragic without one.”

“I take it back.”

“What? That I’m a beautiful beacon of hope?”

“I didn’t say beautiful.”

“Oh, it was heavily implied. We both know you meant to say it anyway.”

“Ok, yes, you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. No, the most divine thing to walk this planet.”

“Good, glad we agree,” He nestles back into you, content smile across his lips, “but really, what do you take back?”

“I think your eyes were brown. Deep and warm like rich dark honey in sunlight,” you press kisses over his shoulder and up his neck, just behind his ear.

“Mmm, that does sound alluring, tell me more.”

You press your lips to the shell of his ear, whisper, “How about, I love you? Is that good for more?”

“That’ll do,” he smiles.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he turns in your arms, kisses you softly once again. The two of you lost to one another. The rest of the gang long gone to the tavern before the two of you emerge.

You spend the night delighting in one another. Making the other laugh, giving a gentle touch, and kissing. So many kisses. You forget your fears of the future. For you know, without a doubt, he will be there and there will be love.

(* Elvish Translation: C'est la vie or That's life. I used a Common to Elvish translator so I'm not even sure it's accurate 😂 Hopefully it is though!) Last little note here! Gale is portrayed the way he is here because, personally, in my playthroughs he's been VERY persistent. I know he's just bugged and he's a darling really, but I just found it funny how often he tries to shoot his shot with my Tav.

My masterlist

[rea-grimm]

Werewolf Crocodile

You lived your whole life in solitude near the forest. There was a forest on one side and a lake with a sandy beach on the other. Your own oasis of calm, as even the rear tourists didn't venture here.

After all, everyone had heard that there was a giant werewolf with an insatiable hunger in this forest. Allegedly, people were also disappearing, but that was just a legend.

Although a werewolf did show up from time to time. A terrifying nightmare for others, something much different for you. Even though you had a full fistful of him at the moment.

Crocodile, one of the most powerful men in this country has taken a liking to your remote location. He could change here at will without anyone disturbing him. Plus, as you later found out, he loved to roll in the sand.

"Forget about it. I won't let you in until you wash up!” you said sternly blocking the door to your house.

Opposite you stood a giant werewolf with black fur that was completely covered in sand that fell off him with every step. Crocodile snarled at you, demanding his way inside.

“This doesn't work for me. You know very well where the hose is. I don't want a sandbox from my home. You have no idea how long it took me to get rid of that sand from the last time. "You replied sternly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

When you first found out the truth about him, you were scared of him. Now that you knew what he was like and what your relationship was like, you knew what you could afford. 

It wasn't just a job anymore when you rented him your land. You were something more. The crocodile snapped after you but didn't bite. He taunted you.

“Try this on people in your casino, not here! "You didn't give in. But even Crocodile wasn't going to just back down and kept growling at you.

“I'll make you a hot bath for that,” you added. But even that didn't talk him out of it. You finally got mad and slammed the door in his face, saying you were going to fill his bath. His fault if it cools off by then.

As you said, you also went to the bathroom. Before you met him, you had a classic small bathtub where you mostly showered. It was enough for your needs.

However, it was too small for Crocodile and he couldn't even sit comfortably there. Moreover, he was used to a completely different luxury. You were sure that if he could, he would turn your small house into a giant luxury villa.

But it was still your house and you weren't going to give it up without a fight. In the end, you gave way to a few changes. One of them was a new bathroom with a giant bathtub that could compete with the indoor pool in how big it was.

Your new bathtub would rather belong in a castle or a luxury hotel. You definitely wouldn't look for something like that in a small house in the middle of nowhere.

In addition, he had so many products that you could only guess what they were for. All of course first-class quality. Among all this, you also found several products for dogs. But when you knew what he was, it didn't seem so strange to you.

You turned on the hot water, and poured some products into the bath for a better experience, and also because Crocodile put up with it. The room was filled with the pleasant smell of oils in the water along with the others.

As the tub slowly filled, you dipped your hand lightly into the water. Or rather just fingers for now. As the water rose, your hand was submerged more and more. Before the tub was filled, you prepared his favourite bath robe.

As if Crocodile had a sixth sense, the door opened just as you turned off the water. The werewolf walked in, still dripping with water even though he had a towel wrapped around his waist.

He still hadn't been completely turned into a human. He still had wolf ears, and a long bushy tail that was slick from the water was flapping behind him. Long sharp claws on one hand and his classic golden hook was missing from the other.

You were actually glad he listened to you and a little surprised. He never took orders from anyone. He listened to you here and there, but it was more the other way around. Just by looking at him, you could see that he didn't like the water from the hose.

“I made you a bath as promised,” you smiled at him and tapped the edge of the bath.

"Next time you'll go under the ice water with me," he growled, still irritated by the hose. However, he did not refuse a hot bath. He took off his towel and got into the water.

“Try to understand me,” you said softly and started massaging his shoulders. You knew how stiff his muscles were after the transformation.

You felt him relax under your touch. He closed his eyes and you could see the previous rage leaving him.

"I'll get you a heated shower outside. And I don't want to hear any objections," he said after a while when he opened his eyes again. You just smiled at that. If it wasn't something huge it didn't matter.

You slowly began massaging his head as Crocodile let out a contented sigh and leaned his head more into your touch.

"Mmm, now all it needs is a cigar," he said happily.

“Not in the bath,” you answered automatically. Crocodile just chuckled at that. This time he did without it. A hot bath and your hands were enough for him.

After some time, Crocodile grabbed your hand, pulled you to him lightly and kissed you. However, it was just a small kiss. He didn't like how you bent over.

Before you knew it, he pulled you into the tub with him. You yelped in shock as you fell into the water. You felt him wrap his arms around you and pull you close.

He cupped your face and gently caressed your cheek, his claw lightly grazing your skin. 

"It's better this way," chuckled Crocodile. He leaned in slightly before kissing you. This time, however, much hungrier and more demanding than before.

Then when you pulled away, he still held you close. Intoxicated from the kiss, you felt your clothes sticking uncomfortably to you. You wanted to climb out, but Crocodile wouldn't let you. You had the impression that it was his little revenge for that hose.

"Where's the rush? He asked you with a smug smile.

“I don't like to bathe in clothes,” you replied.

“I'll get you a new one,” he said casually, capturing your lips in a kiss again. You had no right to object to this.

Crocodile Masterlist

[sanjisblackasswife]

“𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖”

𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗!𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚡 𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗!𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 Part 1 of 2

WC: 1.4k

Bad Summary: Luffy asks you about sex.

Black Fem Reader

CW: Reader is mentioned to have locs, Inexperienced Reader, Inexperienced Luffy, Luffy is surprisingly Shy/Nervous, this is no smut yet , just discussion of sex between you and him and a little suggestive, A Kiss, I tried my best to make it as Luffy accurate as possible….also Luffy speaks a little spanish.

-

“Y/NNNNNN!” Luffy’s whine echoed through out the Sunny. Once again on his daily duty to bother you, because it became one of his favorite hobbies since you joined. You’re his little escape when he wants to really rewind and relax.

Almost everyday at around 3-4pm when the ship isn’t busy he gets up from where ever he is to find you, ask you a thousand and one questions, hang out with you and today was no different except—

“Y/N!” Luffy beamed and barged into your room, as expected, but still managed to leave you shocked especially since you were getting dressed from just leaving the bath.

“Lu!” You throw your robe over your body, sure you’ve seen Luffy naked and he seems to never care about seeing your lady parts, but it was still something you obviously didn’t want to be a reoccurring situation between you both. “I’m—“

“I’m borreeddd!” Your nonplus captain closed the door with his foot before belly flopping on your bed, “Let’s finish playing that one card game you were teaching me—“

“LUFFY!” You snapped at him causing his face to look at your entire shape making you cover more of your body, “Can I get dressed in private pleassseeeee? And then we’ll play.”

“Meh.” He shrugged face planting himself back into your pillow, softly inhaling your natural scent he loved so much, “I won’t look, just hurry up.”

You sigh, you had no point of arguing with him, whatever Luffy wanted he got, and he was a man of his word so he didn’t look.

You strip of your towel and face the chair with your clean clothes. You hear him sigh with boredom, Luffy scoots his way at the edge of your bed and sees a magazines with pretty colors on it. Out of his wonderful curiosity he pulls the magazine out and his eyes widen.

“These are the same kinda magazines Sanji looks at! But with more guys.” Luffy thought scrolling through the pages, he was pretty shocked to see you also own a magazine for a split second, but his shock turned into curiosity.

“Did you take one of Sanji’s magazines, Y/N?”

You instantly felt your soul drop, you knew from nothing, but the silence of the pages turning and small giggles your captain had once again taken something he had no business taking.

“Y/N!—“

You quickly snatch the magazine from his hands, his smile fading just a little seeing the anger in your eyes as you went to slam it on your nightstand, “Don’t you know not to touch things that don’t belong to you?!”

You never yelled at Luffy before. You felt a bit of guilt arising in your chest so you turn away from him. The awkward tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You expected to hear Luffy run off or even burst out laughing, but Eventually you feel his warm hand on your bare shoulder as you held your towel tightly.

“Y/n, are you embarrassed?”

The question was worded as if he were teasing but his tone sounded genuinely curious.

“No…I just…—“

“Y/N, do you also jack off?”

There wasn’t enough adjectives in the world to describe the crooked look you gave, snapping your head at him from behind seeing him grin at you playing with your locs again.

“…Luffy what—“

“You know, play with yourself and make yourself feel good. I mean Sanji does it with those magazines, Zoro and Usopp do too. So…if you had it—“

“Luffy women can’t jack off..it’s called..masturbating—-you know what that’s not the point! You can’t ask that?!”

“Why! It’s normal right?”

“….have you?”

Luffy shrugged, his fingers still fiddling with your hair a little while longer before sitting on your dresser to face you and swing his feet. “I did once, but got bored maybe I wasn’t doin it right.”

“…but how many times have you done it? Have you also done that stuff in the magazine too?”

If you had any color in your face is was already being sucked out of you. Gosh your captain was a interesting guy.

“Are you asking me if I ever had sex?”

“Yeah.”

“….n-no. No Luffy I haven’t.”

“Really? You and Traffy seemed like you did. You’re so close with him and—“

“No! No! Law and I have never.”

“Then why not? I’ve read—“

“You read?”

“…Robin read to me about sex and it was something very normal and common between people. Everybody else on the ship has, Nami, Robin, Zoro, even Sanji and he’s a pervert—“

“Well I haven’t.” You barked at him, you began to get a little defensive. It felt like he was almost poking fun at you for being a virgin. “There’s nothing wrong with not having sex Luffy.”

“Even if it was who cares? I don’t! I was just askin’…” He hopped off the dresser to now inch closer to your face and plant his hat on your head. “I have thought about it a few times though.”

You shot your head back up in shock to read his face, if it isn’t about being the pirate king or meat no way he could ever have something like SEX on his mind???

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to know what the big deal was, y’know? You have thought about it right? Like what it feels like instead of ….looking at pictures of it.”

His blunt remarks were cute, Luffy’s usual very proud and assertive when he speaks, but now it was like his energy shifted.

“Would you ever wanna try it?”

His question brought you out of your thoughts, causing you to blink blankly at him, “Well?”

“….Yes…Luffy, I have always thought abou—“

“Then let’s try it together!”

“Luffy!” You raised your voice seeing him grab your wrist to pull you down on top of him on the bed, your body being constrained by his limbs wrapping twice around your body. “Luf!!”

“What?” He ask plainly watching you squirm against his chest, “Don’t you wanna?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, sure you did and embarrassingly enough you have thought about with him specifically but he never gave you the impression he was ever interested in sex, this all felt like a cruel joke in someway.

“I…do, but Luffy we should…we should slow down. Do it the right way just in case someone gets hurt, plus…do you really want to?”

“oh…right.” Your captain clears his throat softly shaking his head at his forwardness noticing it made you a bit uncomfortable to then place you beside him on the edge of the bed releasing you, “I have for a while..since Dressrosa.”

“What happened there that you haven’t told me already?”

Luffy mimics zipping his lips with his hand, rolling your eyes playfully you both share a giggle, “But 1 thing I seen a lot was..um…”

He wasn’t that he didn’t know what it was he would have just rather taken the time to show you, so looking around your room he stretches his arm out to show you said magazine, scrolling quickly through the pages he lands on a picture of two people, “That. A lot of people did that.”

“Kissing?” You ask and he nods happily giggling which made your tense face soften, sighing at him you cup his squishy cheeks with both hands, you admired his features for a moment.

His light brown skin, pretty dark hair, the small dimples on his cheeks that always appear when he smiles, how unreal his smooth skin is under your fingers, maybe it wasn’t a bad thought to trust Luffy with something like this?

Too caught up in the moment you cock your head to the side and kiss him, a small whimper of shock and a grip of your arms was all Luffy could respond to the sudden touch.

“You um….did you like it?”

The blush on his face told you enough, for once Luffy didn’t have a remark, so to close the gap he grabbed your cheeks this to kiss you again.

As uncoordinated as he was his lips were so sweet from the candy he ate earlier and soft, his lower lip was fatter than his upper and he wasn’t shy to steal a few licks inside your mouth. You felt some slavia seep through the corner of your lips, and the longer you allowed him to kiss you the messier he became now crawling atop of you.

“Lu…” You moan out parting from his now swollen lips, “Are we ganna do this now?”

“Yeah.” He quickly nods , hoping you won’t decline him, he already had a taste and now he wants—-NEEDS the real thing. “I want it, Y/n.”

“Te quiero.”

“What?” You peer your eyes up at him, not sure what exactly he meant so he bends lower to touch noses with you.

“I want you.”

Part 2 Here

[captain039]

PART 2 His conquest

Spawn!Astarion x spawn!reader

Warnings: Angst, vampire things, hurt/comfort, swearing, dick head Cazador hate his ass xD, abuse, soulmates

Previous part <-

Brothers and sisters (7)

Petras - male human

Dalyria - female half drow

Karliel - female dwarf

Astarion - male high elf

Naza - female Teifling

You

Sarric - male wood elf

You had no freedom besides inside the castle, even then you were forbidden in certain areas. If you went somewhere you weren’t allowed to you’d end up beaten for your actions. You rarely left the room allocated to you and your so called six brothers and sisters. You were starved so you found out quickly, you didn’t get a proper meal in a week. Cazador would pick to join him for dinner and give you a dead rat, desperate and hungry you always ate it, needing some form of blood. You hated yourself, hated this thing you’d become, you barely got time to yourself, the bath was attached to the room with only a robe curtain covering it. The other spawns had more freedom than you, obviously from being here for years, he sometimes sent them out to find him more poor souls to put in that horrid dungeon. You didn’t sleep anymore no matter how exhausted you were, you didn’t know what it meant to be a vampire or what was included, not like there was some guide to being one. Thankfully tonight everyone had left or was elsewhere, you smelt horrible, too afraid to bathe with the others so close. You cursed the drapes that didn’t hit the floor as you closed them. You tugged off your clothes and glanced to the mirror which was there for some stupid reason, not like you could see yourself anymore. You opened the cupboard grabbing some hair oil and soap before running the bath. Your hand reached to your back flinching at the angry scars you felt. You pulled your hand away quickly hearing footsteps suddenly. You snatched a towel and wrapped it around you and stopped the water hoping they’d leave, you really needed this bath.

“Who’s in there?” You heard Astarions voice, but didn’t answer.

“I’m going to assume it’s you Y/n by your lack of acknowledgement” he scoffed shuffling in the room.

“I’m not going to come in there if that’s what you’re worried about, have a bath for gods sake” he said and you gulped shaking your head. You drained the water and heard the drape open. You jumped seeing Astarion there with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” He asked watching the water leave. You didn’t answer holding your towel tightly and gulping.

“You smell have a bath!” He grumbled walking in and starting the bath again. You stayed in the corner against the walls making sure he was as far as away you could manage.

“Terrified little pup” he muttered pouring some scented oil in the bath.

“I don’t bite” he commented and you glared.

“I do, I lied” he shrugged. He stopped the water and gestured to the bath.

“Get in” he said and you stared, he was joking?

“You won’t bathe yourself” he huffed going over to you, your whole body tensed and you dashed out the bathroom.

“Hells sake” you heard him say as you awkwardly grabbed some new clothes. You yelped though when you were suddenly lifted into arms.

“Honestly” he huffed as you stayed frozen.

“Put me down” you said voice scared and he frowned looking down at you. Your body trembled in his hold now and his stern face faltered.

“Alright” he said rather softly letting you back to your feet. You stepped away from him and sat in the closet bed legs too shaky.

“The water will get cold, at least use it” he said nodding and leaving the room. You felt small relief fill you, guilt filled you also and pain as you went back to the bath.

Astarion hadn’t felt right the moment he tasted your blood the sweet taste it left made him shudder. Cazador had been eyeing you for weeks and after learning your routine he finally sent himself out. You smelt delicious even from the alley way, when he sank his fangs in and felt the warm blood go through him he felt alive, aroused, so many feelings flooding through him. He felt your panic, fear and felt you slip into unconsciousness, he almost drank you dry if it weren’t for the leash he had around his neck. It wasn’t the usual seduce and take back, Cazador wanted you instantly, no seducing. He felt possessive of your body as he carried you back, Cazador smirking from ear to ear as he took your body away into the unknown room. He didn’t see you for weeks, he felt you though, felt the cold panic, could taste your fear, the realisation that you’d become something you didn’t know was real. His mind was constantly brought back to you and he hated it, you were no one, another spawn in Cazadors army. When he finally saw you he felt relief in his body, you were terrified, body obeying Cazadors every word and command. You hadn’t tasted blood, your hungered eyes staring at the cup in the masters hand. As they sat at the table he felt ridged, as did he’s ‘brothers and sisters’. You knelt by the master like some dog, a slap hit you harshly when you whined. He felt like he felt the slap himself, felt the rage inside him wanting to slice his masters neck more than usual. He couldn’t see you properly from the table, he made sure to keep his eyes on his glass that Cazador so graciously provided, it was fresh human blood, something was going to happen to you. When Cazador forced him to follow him to the carving room he felt his stomach drop, your panic never left neither did your fear. It spiked seeing the room and your survival instincts kicked in. You hit him like a rock, bringing you both to the ground as you snarled ready to rip his neck off. He ceased your hair like you had to him and held you back trying to calm you, Cazador would kill you now. You were torn off him and he felt his body shoot up watching you be laid down in the table. He was ordered to tighten the restraints and your shirt was cut open. Astarion felt sick as Cazador carved into your back, your blood leaking onto the floor. It still smelt delicious, just cold, dead. Cazador had some sick plan to make him watch before he simply left you and him after he was finished.

Astarion waited till he was out of hearing range and cursed undoing your restraints, making sure you were still alive, well vampire alive. He grabbed a rag and pressed it against your back as it slowly healed. He lifted you and took you back to where he and his brothers and sisters stayed. They were all their eyes wide as he carried you. You were too cold, you had been so warm when he held you against him as he drank you, gods.

He cleaned you with a wet rag, glaring at the others when they went to comment, he hadn’t done this with anyone else. He laid you on the empty bed under him hoping you’d heal quickly. When you finally awoke, you were scared and disorientated, you took the blood vial Karliel gave you. When he spoke you snarled at him, it made him amused before he was shooed out. Before he even got down the hall you were rushing past him almost into the sunlight Cazador so nicely placed. He caught you before you could burn to a crisp, your hand just hitting the sun with a hiss. He held your hip and arm panting a bit at the immense feelings he felt from you. You fell from his arms before you turned and brought him down with you. You were once again trying to rip his throat out, only this time fists his face over and over and he let it happen your feelings too much for him before he caught your hands. You looked so broken and he felt his dead heart clench as you sobbed before you stared at his lips. Before he could react your lips went around his and sucked, you must’ve made his lip bleed. He couldn’t ignore the thrill that went through his body, but he had an audience and pushed you off. You looked terrified again and went to the wall crying. He’d asked for more blood, but none of the others didn’t have any making him scoff, but somehow he felt happy about it as he nicked his wrist. Your nose flared and you looked to his wrist as he offered. You denied, hesitated, but when you bit down he hissed trying to ignore the moan that wanted to leave his body as he felt your emotions and his blend together. You pulled from him holding your head as he frowned confused by these feelings. You were a terrified thing, you didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t blame your fear, but you’d have to settle eventually. A week past and you didn’t leave the bed, he swore you would grow some mushrooms if you didn’t move. He caught you moving when nobody was there, you’d get changed, read a book before continuing lying in the bed facing the wall. He didn’t watch you get changed, it was a relief though you didn’t stay in the same clothes and moved your muscles. When he heard water running he got curious asking who it was only to receive no answer and he knew. The water had stopped and suddenly leaving. He pulled the curtain back making you jump and grip your towel as the water left the bath. You were terrified of him more so than the others, he brought this upon you, he didn’t blame you, it hurt though for some reason, but he kept his stern unbothered act up. One thing was certain you needed a bath, you had dirt and dust on you, you were starting to smell dead too. He took it upon himself to run the bath again and poured in some scented oil. You’d darted out though going to the wardrobe, he cursed, stubborn thing you were. He picked you up, you wouldn’t take of yourself, he’d force you to. You didn’t move and the fear tasted sour on his tongue as you spoke softly to let you go. Your voice and trembling made him stop outside the bath as he let you to your feet and left you.

You finished your bath and felt clean for once. You got dressed in fresh clothes and drained the bath. You brushed your hair and went to the bookshelf. You grabbed a random one and sat on the bed sighing. You wanted to sleep, however vampires slept. Your emotions were haywire, some weren’t yours, it was hard to explain, like you were feeling someone else’s emotions as well as yours.