#he does suit the armour now that i see...

[thehappiestgolucky]

here's the pretty ones! (more undercut)

[alastorss]

Hi, could you do an Alastor x Reader where Alastor is the intimidating, scarier half. Their group of friends see him wearing an adorable, soft, pastel pink sweater and start to laugh at him. Until Alastor jumps on Reader's back, grinning and kissing Alastor's cheek because Reader took forever to make that sweater?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Hey, Smiles..." Angel strains out awkwardly. "What'cha got goin' on here?"

The spider gestures up and down Alastor's body, brows pulled together in utter confusion. (He really wishes he had his phone on him. He'd risk taking a thousand photos just to remember this moment.)

Alastor only stares back, smile ever present but eyes narrowed in irritation. "I'll have you know that pink is in this season!"

"In? This season?" Angel guffaws, glancing down at his own outfit before his eyes are all over the Radio Demon again. "I mean, I guess... But you don't seem the type."

"What ever do you mean?"

'It's written all over your face!' Angel screams in his head. He clears his throat and continues carefully, not wanting to step on the Overlord's toes and wind up on his dinner plate.

But before he can even get another word out—

"He means that stupid fucking pink sweater you're wearing," Husk deadpans from behind the bar, attention devoted to polishing a glass. Perhaps that was for the better, Angel thinks, when Alastor shoots daggers in his direction with a glare.

"Stupid?" Alastor repeats, voice crackling dangerously with static.

"It looks like Valentine's Day just threw up all over you," the bartender elaborates.

"Does it now?" The Radio Demon stands, seething in his spot.

Angel clambers over the sofa in worry. "Apologize now, I beg of you," he sputters in exasperation.

However, Husk doesn't back down. Instead, they stare at each other in intense silence, anger simmering between them. The pornstar is just about to yell for Charlie to break them up when his knight in shining armour waltzes into the room.

"You're wearing it!" You gasp, joy evident as your grin spreads ear-to-ear.

Angel watches in relief when Alastor relaxes, antlers shrinking back down. He takes his seat again, allowing you to attack him from behind. You dangle off his neck like a charm with your cheek pressed to his.

"Of course I'm wearing it," he chuckles. "You made it!"

Alastor's eyes dart to the side to leer at Husk who finally shrinks back, realizing his mistake.

A strange pairing.

It was what everyone murmured under their breath when they would see you and your companion. Wherever you went your relationship drew eyes. You were too good for him, or he was too good for you.

To hell with that.

You suited each other—despite the odds, despite the differences. He was harmless as a domestic cat in your arms, and he was teaching you all the wonders of smiling until your cheeks hurt.

And it was one thing to badmouth him. It was another to insult you, whether they realized it or not.

"Pink looks so nice on you," you sing, giving him a little squeeze. "Don't you think?"

You peer up at Angel, and for some reason, he feels a chill run down his spine. Maybe it was because you were currently an accessory to the most feared demon in the Pride Ring.

Or perhaps...

"Looks fantastic," he grits when your head tilts and he realizes you're smiling so wide that you're practically baring your fangs at him.

You were just as terrifying when you were mad!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"They hated it, didn't they?"

Alastor can hear your pout.

"Oh, sweetheart," he muses as he watches you get ready for bed. "They absolutely did~"

You sigh, flopping down onto the mattress. When you finally look at him, you snicker.

"You really don't have to wear it to sleep, you know?" You poke his side. "I know it looks terrible. Take it off already!"

The Radio Demon catches your wrist and guides you into his lap, allowing you to straddle him. You melt into his body as his arms wrap around you.

"It's perfectly warm and comfortable. Acceptable attire for bed. Need I mention again that you made it for me?"

He kisses the top of your head and you giggle as he continues.

"And I believe pink really does suit me."

"Even if people laugh at you?" You ask quietly.

He is silent for a pause before he pulls you so close that he can feel your heartbeat.

"They can laugh all they want. At the end of the day, who's the one who gets to hold you like this?"

You breathe out a whispy laugh.

"Sap."

Before you fall asleep, you make a new reminder in your phone to pick up more supplies for another sweater.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda @princekeerys @cedarrthefluffylee @alastorthirsty (send an ask to be added!)

[thebigbadbatswife]

OCT 24th - Dacryphilia

Pairing - Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x F!Reader

Title - Pretty When You Cry

Summary - The Arkham Knight thinks you look so much better like this.

Warnings - Dacryphilia, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Degradation, Possessive Behaviour

Word Count - 667

You look so much better like this, Jason thinks. 

You’re spread out on the concrete floor beneath him, your legs held open by his hands as he fucks you. Tears glisten in your eyes as your pussy leaves a creamy ring around the base of his cock.

There’s no more venom in your voice. Just pathetic little mewls for more as he takes you hard and fast. Your nails scrabble for purchase in the plating of his armour as your back arches off of the floor, your eyes screwing shut and forcing the tears out and sending them rolling down your face as you cum again. 

You’re so pretty when you cry, he thinks. And it confirms his original thought. You really do look so much better like this than you do when you’re trying to kill him. 

Sure, Batman will throw you behind bars and forget you ever existed. It wouldn’t be the first time. Forgetting people is what he does best, but you don’t seem to care. Each time you come to blows with him you’re more aggressive and reckless than the last. You haven’t come close yet. Each encounter ends the same way. You stripped of your suit and crying his name as he fucks you sensless.

“Wonder what Batman’ll think about his newest sidekick being such a whore.” He punctates each word with a particularly hard thrust, forcing more moans and cries from you. “Do you think he’ll be angrier about the fact that you’re so easy or that I got to you first?”

Briefly, that fire returns to your eyes as they narrow at him and you grit your teeth. It quickly disappears again, your mouth falling open as you moan, as soon as he presses his thumb against your swollen clit. He chuckles, the noise sounding robotic because of his helmet.

“I bet seeing you spread out underneath me like this would really fuck him off,” he continues. “That’s why you keep coming after me alone, isn’t it? You know he’s getting close to finding me. You want him to see what a cockdrunk slut you are.” 

Jason’s rambling as he draws closer and closer to his own orgasm. His rhythm is erratic and his thrusts are even harder than they were before. He lets go of your leg and leans in close you, his helmet brushing up against your ear.

“And he can want you all he wants, but he’s never going to have you. This cunt belongs to me.” 

He pulls away and he slaps your clit, making your body jolt and a short cry of surprise leaves you as more tears are forced from your eyes. And he is absolutely addicted to the way that you look. 

“No one else is allowed to touch this cunt, but me.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. He’ll kill anyone who even lays a hand on you. Including the men that brought you to him after you broke into his base and purposely got yourself caught. You belong to him and only him.

His orgasm hits him hard. He groans deeply as he spills his release deep inside of you. He keeps thrusting, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. When it starts to hurt, he pulls out of you and watches as the mixture of his and your fluids drip from your puffy pussy, making a mess on the floor. 

If he had the energy to spare, he would take you again and again and again. The night’s still young and he has a city to burn and a vigilante to kill. Jason climbs to his feet and tucks himself back into his pants. You don’t make an attempt to move. Your chest falling fast and hard as catch your breathe. Well, you won’t be much of an issue now. 

Maybe he’ll come back for you once Batman lies dead and broken. He seriously doubts that you’ll be getting very far since you won’t be able to walk straight.

[b00kdiary]

Stay With Me | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord.

‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image thoughts, blood and gore, and smut (Hint: Wing play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

PART THREE

I couldn't stop pacing.

That's what I did when I was nervous, and on edge- I paced. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, until I wore through the carpet and my entire body was thrumming with dread.

It had been four hours.

Four hours since Rhysand left to track those Hybern soldiers through the forest, hoping to be led back to their camp. For several weeks we've been dealing with Hybern forces infiltrating our land and yet we had no idea what they were planning.

It was the unknown that had made Rhysand go out tonight.

I had insisted I come, to help, to watch his back, something- but with the heavy snow and rain, he had been adamant that it would be easier to fly alone. Though I knew it was an excuse to keep me here, safe, and unharmed, while he was out there risking his life.

And now he was missing.

Four hours of silence and I was starting to feel violently sick with worry. I contemplated leaving the cabin, trekking on foot through the forest in search of him, but with the weather so furious and the fact he had been flying not walking, I knew it would be futile.

And Rhysand would kill me if he knew I had gone after him, especially when he had specifically instructed me to stay here.

"Stupid, arrogant High Lord," I cursed under my breath and despite the log fire crackling before me and the layers I wore, I still shivered from the brutal cut of the cold wind. My heart seized at the thought of Rhys out there in the brunt of it.

Hybern soldiers were ruthless and their hatred of the Night Court, of Rhysand was known. They could do anything to him; ash arrows, Faebane, dark magic, and Mother only knows what other weapons they have we don't know about.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some kind of damsel," I scowl, my hands shaking as I yank on my discarded sword belt and daggers, "Then he is a bigger idiot than I thought possible."

I try and let my anger bubble over and overtake my fear as I make my way toward the heavy wood door, the sound of the whistling wind and perilous skies getting louder the closer I get to it. I'm trembling as I grip the handle, yanking it open with effort, the hinges stiff with the cold.

I stumble back a step at the sight of a tall male slumped against the door pane- blood pooled around his feet, stark against the white snow.

"Rhysand!"

All thoughts eddy from my head at the sight of him- his skin pale and dull, his midnight hair in disarray, his armour torn and filthy, and an agonised grimace lining his lips. A groan slips from him when my hands come to his chest, and my stomach turns at the warm blood that coats my palms.

"Cauldron, Rhys," I gasp, my throat closing as I stumble back into the cabin, his body weight half-leaning on me and every step he takes is slow and staggered, his face twisting as I guided him back with me. "What happened?"

"Hybern soldiers are assholes," Rhys grits out, a rough laugh slipping past his lips, but the sweet sound soon melts into a pained hiss when I turn so I can slam the door shut behind us- and I see why he's bleeding so goddamn much.

"Rhy- Rhys," I stutter, my fingers tightening into his suit, his muscles rippling under my touch, every breath he takes deeper and faster than the last. "The arrows, holy shit, there's so many-"

Five.

He had five arrows embedded into his back and wings.

"Really? I didn't notice," He grins, his heavy head lifting and those violet eyes meeting mine- though upon seeing the ire and worry on my face, that grin falters, "Hey, c'mon don't look at me like that, I'm alright-"

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, his eyes screwing shut when I begin to move back toward the sofa and I try not to let my body lock up when his hands fall to my waist and hips, long, ringed fingers digging into my flesh for leverage.

"Huh, I knew you wouldn't listen to me," He scoffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-breathless and my face burns with heat when he runs his hands idly down my sides, grazing pointedly over my sword belt and daggers. "You know it's an offence to disobey your High Lord, right?"

"Well since you're wounded and I'm the only one here to help," I grit out sardonically, ignoring how close his face is to mine as I guide his front down onto the sofa, careful not to touch his wings as I move behind him, "I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive me."

I frown at the amount of blood seeping out from his wounds, and I can feel how rigid his body is under my palms- he always was good at hiding his true emotions, masking his pain with an arrogant smile, or teasing words.

My breathing is shallow as I climb onto the sofa behind him, my soft thighs brushing his strong ones and my heart racing as I settle on my knees. His wings are limp on either side of him, one drooping down to the floor and the other sprawled over the cushions.

"You need to rip them out, darling," Rhys muses gently from under me and as if sensing my worry, his voice has lost all sense of humour. "No need to be gentle, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"We both know you're a big Illyrian baby, Rhys," I tease, though my voice is strained and when he shifts his head sideways, looking over his wide shoulders at me, I see the small smile tilting his lips too.

I swallow the lump in my throat, shifting forward and placing a trembling hand on his back. To the arrow embedded at the junction of his wing and spine.

His hand slips back and curls around my thigh, fingers sprawling around the flesh and digging in as if he were bracing himself. The touch is distracting but I focus on my fingers wrapping around the arrow, a few inches from the entry point- and I hate how Rhysand's body flinches at the soft touch.

"Come on, darling," Rhysand sighs, his grip tightening around my thigh as I release a long breath, "Amren's going to kill me if I get any more blood on these cushions-"

I rip it out mid-sentence- and Rhysand's whole body jolts as I tear the arrow free from his flesh, a grunt of pain muffling into the leather beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whimper, my hand clamping down and applying pressure on the wound, the arrow discarded on the floor beside us. Rhysand trembles under me, his jaw locked so tight I can hear his teeth gritting together, "Shit Rhys, I'm sorry."

"It's- it's okay, it's okay," He pants, and I watch his face from the side, seeing him get paler and paler. He squeezes against my thigh, once, twice, and his eyes blink open, those violet eyes dark. "Keep going darling, you're doing so good, keep-keep going for me."

I feel the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as I lean forward, my fingers slippery with blood and gore as I curl my hold around the second arrow, this one just barely stuck near the very bottom of the left wing.

Ash arrows were notoriously dangerous, known for splintering within the flesh, one wrong move and Rhys would have pieces of the wood stuck in his wings and those would be near impossible for me to remove on my own.

I grit my teeth and pull, swift and brazen, not giving him or me a second to think about it. Again, Rhysand grunts, body viscerally jumping but he seems to bear the pain better the second time, his thighs clenching around mine for support.

"Forget what I said, I was wrong," I clear my throat, trying to force some ease and comfort into my tone as I run my hand up the muscles of Rhysand's back and I feel relief when he sighs, his body melting into my touch. "You're not a big Illyrian baby, you're a tough, strong male."

"What finally convinced you? The very manly way my body is shaking right now?" He released a long exhale, his mouth tugging into a smile and I can't help but laugh when his eyes glance back to meet mine. "Or the groans that keep slipping out no matter how hard I try to contain them?"

I laugh softly, my blood-stained hands running across the planes of Rhysand’s shoulders and back, the pad of my thumbs and forefingers circling around the stiff muscles, trying to get him to relax. He sighs, and his hand pulls against my thigh coaxing me higher up his body, closer than before.

"Nothing wrong with being vocal, Rhys, I would have thought five hundred years of existence would have taught you that," I run my finger across the membrane of his wing, feeling the soft, leathery texture as I move to the next arrow. "Females love to hear how you feel."

"Cruel, wicked thing," Rhysand mumbled, his breath hitching at the tender touch I grazed over his wings, and it was a very different sound to before. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Having me at your mercy."

I wrap my hand around the arrow stuck in the middle of his wing and his body tenses- knowing what was waiting. I frown, hating that he is in pain and unconsciously, my left hand moves to his other wing, and he gasps, eyes widening when I run the pad of my thumb over the talon at the tip- a spot I knew was sensitive.

I tear the arrow out of the right wing with one hand, while my other rakes down the curve of his left wing, my nails scratching softly against the tender flesh there. Rhysand groans, louder this time, and it's a sound that I feel through my body.

"Are you- are you trying to make it feel better, darling?" He asks quietly, his breaths loud in the silent room and his hand at my thigh caressing, his thumb swiping soothingly back and forth.

"Yes," I reply, equally as soft, and my heart is racing as I edge closer, my core and ass settling over one of his burning hot thighs. "Is it working?"

"Yes," He swallows, an audible sound and I see his Adam's apple bobble, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as I reach for the fourth arrow. "Yes, it is, don't- don't stop." There's a slight tremor in his voice, a neediness that makes my head spin.

His body vibrates under me, but for a completely different reason now and it seems the more my idle hands wander curiously over the dancing veins and soft membranes of his wings, the less control he has over himself.

"Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?" My voice is hoarse, and I ignore the sweat coating my skin and heat burning through me as I grab around the arrow, my shoulders bracing for the strength needed for this pull.

"Why are you and Cassian talking about the most sensitive parts of a male's wings?" He grits out, his thigh muscle tensing, and I feel it brush against my centre- wet and aching with need. A smile tugs at my lips at the darkness in his tone, that smile broadening when his wing twitches violently against my fingers.

"He also said that males can like having their wings touched during sex and that a brush against the right spot can make you climax, is that true?" His nails dig into my thigh at my whispered words, a moan slipping past his lips when I grip around the talon with a firm hold.

This time when I rip the arrow free, he doesn't feel the pain- too consumed and dizzy with pleasure.

"You're killing me, Y/N," Rhys chuckles, his body shaking with the laugh, a sound that travels through the air and over my skin like a phantom touch. I circle the heel of my palms into his shoulder blades, massaging out the tension and Rhys moans appreciatively, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest.

"Only one left, Rhys," I say encouragingly, and he mutters incoherently in agreement as I lean forward, the last arrow embedded in his upper back- much deeper than the rest. I frown, rising onto my knees, already missing the strength and heat of his thigh between my legs. "This one's gone all the way through, I'm going to have to dig it out the other side."

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun," Rhys jeers, his hand grazing along my thigh as I sit up as if needing my touch as reassurance.

My eyes narrow at his remark and suddenly the blood and the arrows and his pained face hold no bearing with me, the sympathy vanishes- replaced by the anger that had me ready to march out into a storm to look for him.

"That's what happens when you go chasing the enemy with no backup," I mutter stiffly, and this time when I grab the arrow, I don't give Rhys any satisfaction or comfort- no, I break the arrow in two with an easy snap of the wrist, dropping the fragmented piece to the floor with a clink.

He winces, and when I hover above him, his head turns to look at me, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.

"I take it you're still upset with me then, darling," Rhys muses and the ting of humour in his words makes me scowl, my touch no longer soft or soothing, my body no longer enjoying the hard, perfect feel of him.

“Turn around,” I order, dismissing him as I rise from him and onto my feet. His hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, a yearning in his touch, but I move away from him stiffly. “I need to dig out the arrow from the front.”

He purses his lips at my cold words, and I almost feel bad for him when he hisses in pain, his muscular, lean body so frail as he rolls onto his back, his sore wings moving slow and deliberately, barely able to lift higher than his shoulders before sagging back down again.

“Y/N,” Rhys sighs, a deep frown tugging at his lips as he drops his head against the armrest. I stare at him in silence, seeing him splayed out before me, chest rising and falling in harsh waves and those violet constellations unwavering upon me.

"You could have been killed, Rhysand," I grit out, and I hate the tears I feel prickling my eyes as I stare at him, at the blood coating my hands, and the sofa and the floor, the wound puncturing through his left pectoral. "If you don't trust me to have your back-"

"Don't say that, never say that" He rises faster than I can protest, and my hands shoot up to stop him, but he doesn't relent, his face harsh with discomfort but his eyes burn with determination as he sits up. "I trust you more than anyone, more than myself, don't ever think that Y/N."

"Alright, okay Rhys," I sigh, shaking my head and my hands are weak as I place them on his solid shoulders, trying to guide him to lay back down. His eyes never once leave mine and I can see the hurt in them- that I would even think such a thing. "I'm sorry, just lay down, you're still hurt."

His face tightens severely, and he looks so at odds with the male known for his easy smiles and bright stary eyes- but he obliges me as I guide him back down. His hands curve up my thighs and rest on my hips, and he doesn’t speak as he yanks me down, dragging me so that I straddle his waist.

“Rhys-“ I suck in a sharp breath when he settles me, forcing my weight to sit atop him, my thighs clamped around his hips, my core settled just under his belly button and his calloused hands kneading the flesh at my sides.

"I told you to stay here because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," He whispers, eyes unbearably soft, and his touch igniting something hot in me, "If they did something to you if you got hurt... I don't know what I would do, Y/N."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I bring my hands forward to the front of his leathers, my fingers stumbling as I unbuckle the belts and slip off the buttons one by one, revealing the acres of tan skin and the dark whorls painted across his chest.

I gnaw on my cheek as I tug back the shirt, Rhysand silently watching every action, every breath I take, and my face falls at the wound leaking blood above his left pectoral, the arrowhead peeking through the gore.

“And what if something worse than this happened to you?" I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion and when my eyes meet Rhysand’s again, his face tightens at the tears in my eyes, “What do you think I would do? How would I be able to live with it?"

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhysand swallows thickly and I watch as he grits his teeth, his body pulsing when I run my fingers over the wound, gauging how deep I have to feel, how best to remove the arrow in one piece.

“I need to dig it out with my fingers to get it to the surface first,” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick prolonged silence and taut tension between us, “It’s going to hurt, badly.”

“I know,” He locks his jaw, the strong angle sharp and I see the grim anticipation on his face when I move my index finger and thumb into position over the exit point. But without speaking, I move my body, lower, until my core settles over the front of his breeches- over his long, hard length.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-“ His breath hitches at the contact, his violet eyes widening and latching onto mine in surprise.

“I want to,” I whisper, need spreading through me at the feel of him under me, the smell of his arousal and mine wafting through the air, making me dizzy. “I’m trying to make it feel better, remember?”

I roll my hips, ever so slightly, and the electricity that shocks through my clit at the contact makes me gasp. Rhysand grunts, a low, heady sound, and the way he lifts his hips up to dig his cock into me is almost desperate.

“Cauldron,” He curses as I dig my fingers into his wound, the metal sharp and hot against my fingertips as I try and get leverage around it. His face twists but when I rock my hips again, dragging down his length, his pain dissolves into something carnal. “Cauldron, Y/N-“

“There we go,” I whisper, my fingers gripping around the arrowhead firmly, twisting it a few inches higher so that it protrudes out of his chest. I bite my lip to contain any sounds as I rut against him, my underwear and trousers soaked through, seeping into Rhysand’s slacks, making it easier to rub over his twitching length. “I’ve got it!”

He moans- the most erotic, lewd sound rumbles from him, low and loud, echoing through the room. I pant as he runs his hands over my body, over my thighs and hips and waist, kneading my stomach and love handles, before settling over my ass.

His nails carve crescent moons into the flesh as he palms me, the control he was so used to wielding in the bedroom not dwindling as he guided me back and forth faster and harder against him.

"This is the best pain I've ever felt, darling," Rhysand purrs, his voice like melted chocolate against my senses and the fire burning between my legs fans at his words. I lean forward, my breasts brushing his chest and my stomach settling against his- and I run my free hand over his sprawled wings.

"I'm going to pull it out now, yeah?" I mumble against his cheek, and I know his head is spinning, the pain and pleasure so at odds, so damning that his canines flash at me, his fingers bruising against my ass and his hips jolting up violently to meet mine.

“Do it, daring,” He commands, the role of the High Lord imprinted into him no matter the situation and almost as if it were programmed in me to obey, I kiss his cheek tenderly- and yank the arrowhead free in one go. “Shit, shit-“

I drag my centre over the tip of his cock, rolling my hips in fast, sharp strokes and Rhysand crumbles at the action- his eyes screw shut, his body stills like stone, and the filthiest, rawest cry tears from his lips, louder and fragmented when I rub at the tip of his talon with my palm.

I whimper at the feel of every hard inch of him cemented against me, the warmth of his hot seed leaking out and soaking his slacks, mixing our arousals, getting messier the more I rub against him.

“Y/N,” He moans my name into the crook of my neck, his teeth scraping against my pule point and his hands curling around my ass, forcing my hips to stop. Instead, he clamps my body flush to his, my tits pressed to his chest, my face buried in his soft hair, and I feel his cock pulsing and tremoring hard against me as he rides out his orgasm.

I feel Rhysand laugh roughly against my neck, the sound of his ragged breathing and the erratic rise and fall of his muscular chest against me making me sigh. His hands don’t loosen, in fact, they get tighter, guiding me until I’m laying flat, his arms wrapping over me and keeping me to his chest.

He was holding me like he didn’t want to let go.

There’s a long silence as I lay with him, our bodies melting together and his touch unrelenting upon me, holding onto my flesh for dear life, feeling me against him and sighing at the comfort. His breathing starts to deepen, turning heavy and I blink, shifting to move my weight off him.

“Don’t,” He grumbles, his arms drawing me back to his chest, a deep groan escaping him as he shifts so that my body slips between the gap of the sofa and his side. His eyes flutter closed again, and I watch his face ease into serenity as I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

A/N:

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

Should I make a part two??? part two here

[helaelaemond]

To Watch - Aemond x reader

Pairing:  Aemond x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Aemond reads an old story from the Reach to you in bed. You like to see how long he can read aloud before he stutters.

Content warning(s): none

INCLUDES: handjob (m receiving)

Taglist: @babyblue711 / @myfandomprompts / @sylasthegrim / @arcielee

“And so it was on that first fateful morning that Ser Emmon saw the sweet Queen Delena, and knew he loved her.” 

You smile as Aemond reads aloud to you, no louder than a whisper. “I missed you today.” 

He turns the page of the book in his hand. “Hmm?” 

“You didn’t join us for dinner. It was just Aegon and I.” 

“Well, that’s not so bad.” He runs slow circles over your waist with his thumb where you lie in his bed, propped up by soft feather pillows.

“That’s why you should have been there.” On the new page of the book in his hand, there is a gilded painting of a knight in silver armour, and the queen in her crown of flowers. “Just us.” 

“I just needed some time alone after today.” 

You inch closer to him and turn slightly to press your chest against him. He is so close that you can see every eyelash, every ghost of the freckles that used to splash across his nose. “I saw you in the yard for hours.” 

“Were you watching me?” The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. 

“No,” you lie. 

He glances at you, close enough to kiss, and you grin in delight at him. “What did you think?” 

“Nothing. I wasn’t watching.” 

Aemond leans across the small distance between you and tilts his head. Your noses touch, and the slightest movement closer would let your lips meet. “Do you know what I think?” 

While his one eye closes, yours remain open. He is blurry this close, but in the dim light of the room, his sapphire sparkles. “Sometimes.”

“Do you know what I am thinking at this very moment?” 

It’s difficult to bite back laughter. He makes you so very happy. “No.” 

“I think you like to watch.” 

Too thick is the air between you for you to stand anymore, and you try to kiss him, your mouth aching for the touch of his lips. He pulls back slightly, denying you.

“Aemond,” you protest in a soft whisper. 

“Well?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. “Do you?” 

Smiling widely, you rest your head on his shoulder and touch the page in front of them. “Keep reading.” 

“Alright.” He sighs in contentment, and starts at the top of the page. “But it was to her husband the King Gwayne that he had sworn his sword and shield, and his life. No wife would he take, no children would he father, yet to the queen he felt his heart go.” 

You listen as Aemond reads from the book. It is just old stories from a time when legend and history mingled into one, a book as well suited to children as it is maesters. But still; between the pages some truth can be found, and flesh and blood and bone can be seen through the myths. And it all sounds so pretty when Aemond reads it. 

Being so close to him does things to you. As if you are doing nothing more than getting more comfortable, you wriggle under the covers and slip your knee between his thighs. He wears only a soft green tunic to bed, one that rides up easily. His voice catches on the words when you shift against his leg,your hand on his chest. “Keep going,” you whisper. 

He clears his throat and does as you ask.

He’s right, of course. You do like to watch. A long time ago he had shown you how he liked to be touched and you had learned quickly. Now, there is little left that you do not know, but you like to see all the same. Not tonight, though. After the display he put on in the yard for much of the afternoon, you want nothing more than to touch, to feel. 

As he weaves the story of knights and queens and longing loves about their silver heads, your touches dip lower. At first, it is just his stomach you run your palm over. Linen is still between your skin, but his muscles tense at the pressure, and you can feel the dips and ridges along them. Each time his voice falters, you stop. It is encouragement enough, then, to keep going. 

“And it was in the gardens of Ser Emmon’s humble country house that Queen Delena gave herself to him. He gave her a rose as a symbol of their love, and pressed it into her hand. The thorns cut her skin, but he kissed the wounds and at his touch, they healed. Then he took her face into his grasp and kissed her cheeks and her lips, and they swore their love to one another.” 

You run the heel of your palm lower on his stomach and press it against the hard pubic bone. He stutters and his eye closes. He grunts your name.

“Yes?” you ask innocently. Your fingers point down, and just a slight twitch of them allows you to stroke the hair there, to trace the base of his cock. It rests against his thigh, half hard. 

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” 

“Yes. Why do you ask?” 

Aemond laughs breathlessly. “Then you’d better stop whilst I can still read.” 

Your fingers form a ‘v’ over the base of his cock and crook slightly to slide along the sides of his balls. “If you stop reading, then I’ll have to stop doing this.” You turn your hand palm-up and glide his cock through your spread fingers. 

A half-laugh comes through his nose. “Alright.” He shifts slightly and the pages rustle on his lap. “It was in that very garden that the queen gave herself entirely to the knight, and in her, he put his bastard child who would one day be called Flowers.” 

You settle comfortably against him again and your forehead rests against his long neck. His thighs spread wider in a silent beg for more, and you smile slightly. There is heat rising in his throat and cheeks and you can feel it against your face. 

How pretty Aemond’s body is. You love how long and lean he is, how easily bruises blossom under his fair skin, how you can see the lines of his veins and tendons in his arms and hands. Such pretty hands. With your forehead against him, you can feel the soft rumble of his voice in your very bones. It makes you shiver, makes your nipples hard. 

When he stumbles over a word, it is satisfying knowing that you made that happen. It’s your gentle hold around his cock that makes him lose focus, your skin against his that makes his stomach tense. Only for a moment do you let him go and although he whines softly through his words, he makes no other protest. You holds your hand up to his mouth and he bites his lip, before licking your palm, your fingers. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, before pushing your hand back under the covers and wrapping it around him again. 

“But the king’s closest companions had already informed him of their suspicions, and Ser Emmon was summoned to the Great Table.” 

A fire burns between your legs. He is hot and heavy in your hand, hard and wide and in his cock, you can feel his heartbeat pulse. His thighs twitch, and you run your foot up and down his calf soothingly. It does not soothe you, though. Every touch makes you want to make him whimper more. Even his voice intoxicates you. 

The pace you set is steady and reliable, and you only pause your ministrations now and again to caress your thumb over his tip. The silver drops that gather there make it smoother to stroke him as you glide it over his length. At your waist, his fingers begin to dig in. 

“And the k-” He bites his lip and sighs hard through his nose. You press your fingers around the base of his cock and move to carefully squeeze his balls. His eye closes, but there is strength in him yet, and after a brief pause, he continues. “And the king at last drew his sword in challenge against his knight, his friend, and demanded honour.” 

You look at the painting on the page in front of them but you don’t really see. It’s impossible to see anything in front of you when Aemond is all around you, his body heaving beneath you, his leg pressing between yours, his hair tickling your face. Utterly consuming is the need to please him, to delight him. You stroke his cock faster now. How lovely he is. How pretty he sounds. Oh, I do so adore him. Every stutter and every stumble is for you. 

“They crossed swords over the Table and- fuck.” 

He turns his head and kisses your forehead, hard. You shiver, and under the blankets you tighten your grip. “They crossed swords over the Table and they fucked?” you ask breathlessly. 

Aemond’s quiet laugh turns into a moan. “No, not that. They, ah- gods!” He forces his eye open but his brow is furrowed in concentration. “And they fought. The king fought for his honour, and the knight f-” he stumbles, breath catching in his throat. “Fou- ah, yes!” 

You bring your knee up between his legs and press it up to where his legs meet. Aemond grinds his hips up and down, his heavy balls sliding against your soft thigh. He turns his head slightly to press his cheek against your forehead. It’s like he can’t get close enough to you, even when you’re lazy like this. 

“They fought?” you encourage.

“Mmph. Yes. They fought. Fuck.” 

“Keep going, and so shall I.” 

“Yes,” he moans. You know he has more self control than this. But there is nothing that makes your soul soar like knowing he can set it aside with you. “The knight fought for his love.” The words are punctuated with heavy gasps that grow more frequent as his breath grows shorter. “The king forbade… he forbade his other knights from in…” He bites his lip at a particularly delicious twist of your wrist. “From interfering. After a long fight, the king disarmed Ser Emmon and his b… his blade… ah, yes. Just like that. His blade was knocked from his hands.” 

“Are you nearly finished?” you ask, making sure your lips are so close to his ear that he will not hear anything else. 

His brow creases again but this time it is in a laugh. “Am I? Or the story?” 

“You,” you breathe, and the word is stretched out. You dart out your tongue to catch along the shell of his ear and when he moans, strained and high, you feel like a queen yourself. 

“So close,” he assures you. 

“Keep going.” 

Nodding frantically, he musters his strength to return to the words. “Ser Emmon fell in front of the king, who… mmph, sweetling. Who demanded that he tell him where the treasonous queen was.” 

She can feel deep within her that he is close. There is something in the way that his whole body tenses, how little beads of sweat gather along his hairline, the twist of bliss in his face, that is so familiar, so exciting. You sit up slightly to get a better view of his face. Yes, that’s better. It’s much easier now to see the little line along his throat that appears when he is tense. There is a thick vein protruding from his forehead now, and it makes you smile. You so love to watch. 

Your hand moves faster, and it is slick with spend and sweat and spit. 

“The knight refused, for he loved the queen more d-dearly than his… his own life. Oh, fuck!” 

His eye closes and it leaves only the sapphire in its socket to wink at you. Fire rages through you at the sight, excitement and adrenaline and love mingled into a potent poison. Let it ruin you, if it means you can have him. 

“Yes, love, don’t stop, I’m-!” 

His face is flecked with starlight when pleasure rips through him. His hands ball into fists and his hips lift off the bed, and he cries out, guttural and low, his voice cracking. You watch, enchanted, and stroke him through it, catching his seed across your hand. Some will have gone on the blanket. Such a waste. 

“Kiss me,” he pleads quietly as he sinks back in the pillows. Below the blanket, his hand finds yours and your fingers weave together and it feels like the centre of the world. 

You smile and keep your eyes open as you kiss him. It is tender now, your lips soft together. Whilst there is still a fire between your legs, it has been tempered for a time. Simply by seeing his release, some part of you has been satisfied. 

Aemond breaks the kiss after a long moment. His eye opens slowly, and he is greeted by your smile. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t need to thank me.” 

“I do,” he whispers, squeezing your hand against his stomach. “I do.” 

Tenderly, you kiss his forehead and stroke his hair back. “You don’t.” 

It is a reflex to lean closer when you kiss him, and within a moment he has leaned so close that you are rolled onto your back with him between your legs now, the book discarded. He pulls at the hem of your yellow sleeping shift, but you stop him. “Wait.” 

His orgasm is still sending waves of bliss through him, and he cocks his head to the side in a silent question. You grin. “The looking glass,” you say in a hushed tone. Close to the door stands a great reflective glass, large enough to see one’s full frame. 

Aemond understands immediately, and scrambles to his feet. Your hands are still clasped and so he pulls you up with him. “Of course. You do so love to watch.”

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

and if Chase grabs Randy, that would somehow influence the First Ninja?

Ooooo, like grabs as in 'kidnapped to be bait' or as in 'manipulated to the side of evil' though???? Honestly doesn't matter I guess, because either way First would be freaking pissed.

I think most of us in rc9gn fandom collectively agree that First and Randy share a special bond, so if Chase decides to use Randy to get to First (or just use him in general), the repercussions of his actions could be terrifying.

The only saving grace would be, I think, that Chase would see and respect (to some degree) that bond, AND he could respect Randy. (I'm saying 'could' because, well... just imagine Randy 'fart jokes are height of humour' Cunningham and Chase 'wears impeccable armour' Young interacting, like??? do you get what i mean???)

And in some way, that bond would remind Chase of his own special bond with Omi. So if Chase grabs Randy he could afford him the same level of respect he has for Omi. Though its not saying much, considering all the things Chase did to try and get Omi on his side lol.

So potentially Randy could be subjected to manipulation, a little bit of possible brainwashing, just lots of mentally traumatizing experiences and in general not bruce vibes from creepy immortal lizard man - not exactly fun times. But he would power through it that's for certain, Randy going darkside has very little possiblity IMO, (but even if it happens First would snap him out of it).

Meanwhile, First would regain a physical body out of sheer anger and just descend with the wrath of a 800 year old man who helped raise tutor over 200 teenagers and freaking wallop Chase's lizard ass, then unlock all the powers in the suit so Randy could kick his ass too. Then just to make sure, lock Chase somewhere up so he would learn a lesson (he probably won't).

Also I can't help but think of Chase imagining like "Ninja I have turned your best apprentice to Dark Side so my own turned apprentice could have an evil sibling conspirator, now you have to join us too, so we all can be happy evil family Empire and rule the world for 5000 years of Darkness." ;)

And First, like instantly ruining Chase's little fantasy, lol.

On a slightly more serious scenario, I guess if Chase somehow grabs Randy and Randy does not in fact hold on, and to save him First would have to join Chase... he probably would do it and it will be a delightfully angsty moment of Randy watching in horror as his sorta mentor (spirit? memory?) is consumed by darkness of Chase Young. So, yea there is also that possible scenario. ;)

[just-french-me-up]

dreamling 16 or 23 for the kiss prompts? 👀

23. "A kiss in relief" | Have some Prince!Dream / Knight!Hob as a treat because this concept tickles my brain divinely!

The battle was won.

Already the camp was filling up, some soldiers shedding their dirtied armours while others were being rushed to the healing tents. The chaos of battle clung to them still, brewing amongst them and would soon, no doubt, burst into the clamour of celebration. Regardless, all heads bowed as the prince exited the command post, guards following close behind.

Morpheus would celebrate with his men, as all good leaders must, in due time. He would be expected to give a speech, rousing words for those gathered under his command, and solemn ones for those who had fallen, but he could not focus on either now. He had to know first. He had to make sure.

A prince does not announce himself upon entry. It was with tight apprehension that he stepped into the Lord Commander's tent, his guards following suit. He braced himself for blood, gushing wounds and grunts of pain, but was met with a much more pleasant (and relieving) sight.

"My prince."

Hob would bow lower, Morpheus knew, but his movements were hindered by his squire, who was busy removing the various parts of his armour. A quick glance was enough to know the blood staining his shirt and skin was not his. Good. Morpheus suppressed a smile.

"Lord Commander."

Like the rest of his men, Hob looked spent, covered with the grime of the battlefield, his hair sticking to his forehead, but victorious nonetheless. He, too, ought to be with his men soon, share the glory together as brothers in arms. But not yet.

"We have much to discuss after today's victory," Morpheus said, before glancing back at his guards. "Leave us."

The soldiers stepped out without a word, although Morpheus knew they wouldn't stray far. Hob gave a quick nod to his squire to dismiss him, and as the boy left, they stood alone. Hob had not drawn another breath that Morpheus pulled him close, tasting the battle on his lips, blood, salt and dirt, and something else, something distinctly, comfortingly Hob's. Hob sighed into his mouth, hot breath tickling his cheek, bringing him closer still. By the time he let go, Morpheus had gone almost dizzy, holding on to a still armoured shoulder.

"Careful, I may get a taste for winning you battles," Hob smiled against his lips, "if this is the thanks I get."

"Are you hurt?"

"Bruised, at most. It will probably look worse than it feels."

Morpheus furrowed his brow, suspicious. Hob was hardly reliable when it came to pain. He would suffer agony and wave it off as nothing more than a scratch. Morpheus would have to wait for the whole armour to come off to see the extent of the damage.

"You know," he said as he started undoing the laces of Hob's vambrace. "Lord Commanders usually stay at the commanding post to oversee the battle."

"Well, I guess your Lord Commanders are usually pretty shit, then."

Morpheus shot him a disapproving look, the piece of metal falling on the floor with a dull "clank".

"I do not want you hurt."

"You should have made me Lord Jester then," Hob chuckled. "Master of the Drapes and Napkins. No chance for bruises there."

He cupped Morpheus' cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. He did like to jest, that one. Unfortunately his true talents lay in the sword, which inevitably placed him at the end of another. Perhaps that would be another reason to seek peace during his reign, Morpheus told himself. A selfish reason, but a motivating one nonetheless.

"I always come back to you, don't I?"

"Only because I order you to."

"And I wouldn't dream of disobeying my prince."

"Good."

Send me a kissing prompt?

[rowanmutt-afterdark]

Kinktober Day 3: Chasity

(MTMTE/IDW Swerve)

Word Count: 810

MTMTE/IDW Swerve X Human GN Reader

18+ tags: chasity, dom/sub, and slight humiliation play

Read below the cut!

Swerve sat stiff, his knee joints ached as he sat with his thighs spread wide, and his helm tilted back while you worked between his quivering leg struts. You were attaching something onto his body, specifically his spike. You had called it a chastity cage, and while he was still learning human ways, he had grown interested in it.

He remembered seeing something like what was being put on him from a human holo film, according to what you called it, it's called ‘porn’. He still had no clue what it was but he trusted you over other sources.

He jolts with a whimper as the cold chastity finally clips into place and he hears you chuckle between his thighs. He feels your finger slip between the bars of the cage and stroke a small stripe down his chubby, stubbed spike. He hissed with pleasure as you teased the sensitive organ.

“So, how does it feel?” Your inquiry helped him focus again so he could get a coherent sentence out.

“Feels good, a little weird but it doesn't hurt.” He answers. He hears You hum in acknowledgment to his response before resuming your work of teasing his body. You take a finger and gently trail down his body, smirking as you trace the armoured plating that made up his chassis and stout frame. You took the trail all the way down to just above his spike, it earned a small jump from his skin growing erection.

He whined as your hands moved back up to his chassis to trace the metal, following the flow of his plating and tracing cables making your minibot lover squirm and whimper as you watched each small movement to make sure he wasn't uncomfortable.

He shuddered, his engine hiccuping as it revved excitedly, your small fingers slipped between the plating just under his chassis and teased the sensitive wiring there. He shifted with a moan of ecstasy as your fingers expertly rolled and tweaked at the wires.

His intake gaped open as his plating flared, his leg struts tensing as his hips buck forward, desperate for friction against his growing erection. His visor flaring a bright cyan as his frame leaned forward to be closer to you. His lip components parting as he gasped out a plea. “Please,sweetspark! I need it so bad!”

You looked down at his weeping tip, his caged spike was throbbing within its confines. Transfluids dribbled down the chastity, it was splattering onto his plating, and on the floor. Your tongue clicked against your teeth, tsking at the mess your boyfriend was making in his hab-suite. Your hand reached up to grab his helm, your fingers grasped a hold of the back of his helm and pulled him down closer to your own height. Only a few feet height difference made him just a little bigger than yourself.

“Only good boys get to overload, you are to address me as what?” You growl, earning a high pitched whine before you received your answer.

“Please, mistress. I need to release, it hurts!” You hum as if thinking before you lift a foot and press it against his caged spike. He makes a sound similar to a squeal of pleasure but his engine roaring covers it as your boot clad foot pressed down against his chastity. Watching as he tensed, holding back the overload that so badly wanted to be let go.

“Again, tell your mistress what you want.” You demand, the foot on his spike pressed down with a littke more pressure earning a shutter and a whine. He sounded so pathetic, it was cute~

“Overload! Please mistress, I need to overload!” He sobbed. You smirk and watch as his spike weeped for that release he so craved.

“Good boy~” You purred, with that he released. His cry was so delicious that your own arousal started to become unbearable as his transfluids painted your boot, his thighs, and the floor. You smiled, watching him as he slowly came down from his high. His visor flicked on and off as his systems roared to life to cool his frame down.

“Now look at the mess you made, we can't have your mistress wearing your fluids like this, now can we?” You didn't need to say anymore as the mech leaned down and used his glossa to lap up the spilled fluids off your boot. Your pussy clenching at the display, your hand moving down to your pants as you gropped at your crotch to try and relieve the pressure building.

“Once you are finish cleaning, I have another task for you. How does dessert sound?” Swerve moaned against your solvent covered boot as he sat up again and nodded eagerly. You didnt hesitate in taking your pants off and seating yourself against his face.

This was going to be a long night~

[omgreally]

Defeat

Defeat - E 18+ - Din Djarin/F!Reader - 900 words Warnings: fluff with a side of smut. The post-Season 3 drabble nobody asked for.

Din Djarin's brooding again.

You are fairly certain he does it unconsciously, like breathing, protecting Grogu, or beating the living shit out of people. Usually, there's a correlation between those. But then there are the quiet moments, the softer moments in between the more visceral ones.

It's like he doesn't know what to do with himself now except exude an aura of I-really-wish-I-was-killing-someone-right-now.

He's sitting on the porch, feet up, watching Grogu levitate some frogs.

"Retirement doesn't suit you, Djarin," you tell him, not for the first time.

The helmet turns, and Mando--Djarin--lowers his feet as if he's ashamed, as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, like relaxing. To a Mandalorian, that's tantamount to heresy.

He still keeps his helmet on when he's outside.

You approach slowly, as if he's a wild animal, stopping short of extending your hand for him to sniff. The impassive helmet just stares. So you insinuate yourself onto his lap, and the vocoder digitizes a soft noise as you settle with your back against his chest.

"What are you ruminating about this time?" You watch Grogu juggle a family of amphibians, giggling.

"Nothing," Din Djarin says, a fuzzy rumble against your back. He moves your hair away from your neck, and you shiver at the brush of his gloved fingers. His thumb finds a knot in your trapezius and presses in firmly.

"Liar," you reply, but without any real venom. He's working the knot out with slow circles, and it feels quite nice, actually.

"I think I know the problem," you say, trying not to groan. He makes a noise which means go on, lifting the hairs on the back of your neck. "You're bored. There's not enough adrenaline in your system when nobody's been trying to kill you for a while."

Djarin is silent, which means you're right, but I don't like it.

"Think Grogu can keep himself occupied for a while?" you add, with the dark heat of the forge in your voice and your fingers drifting back along the outside of his thigh.

He stands, and you slip off his lap. "Perimeter's active," he says. "He won't wander too far."

There was a time when he wouldn't let Grogu out of his sight. A robust security system--the one you installed--helped. You're impossibly glad you did as you let Din Djarin grab your hand and lead you back inside the house.

He turns off the lights. Clothes hit the floor like bodies amid the thunk of weaponry and armour. Calloused skin meets yours, and you fight to kiss him, but he dodges away and applies his mouth, impossibly warm, to your neck and lower.

You don't make it easy for him. He handles you delicately--for him--but each touch weakens his defense. The sweep of your fingers over his chest, his stomach, disarms him. He wrestles to pin you to the wall, but he knows he's defeated. The battle was lost the moment he took your hand.

The bed is soft, and Din Djarin is hard above you, inside you. The stretch and burn of him is enough to unmake you. But he is trembling, his mouth open against the hollow of your collarbone, panting as if he's been running for his life. You wrap your legs around his waist and draw him in closer. His scalp is damp beneath your fingertips.

But Mando has always been pinpoint-accurate with both his aim and his timing. He rears back enough to reach between your bodies, and his trigger finger settles on your clitoris. He knows when to strike a last-minute killing blow, and this is it. You curse and cry his name, and you can just about see, in the dim half-light from under the door, the curve of a triumphant grin on his face, and that's what it does you in.

The blinding rise of your orgasm crests, burning through your nerves from his fingers and his cock. You clench around him and try to cover your own mouth with your hand, but he drags it away, pins it to the bed and leans forward to growl in your ear, "I want to hear you."

You writhe and sob, but the Mandalorian is relentless, driving into you with the force of a man possessed, to whom surviving the next thirty seconds is the only option he has left. It's not until you're limp and spent beneath him that he stops moving, that he withdraws his hand and lets you go so you can breathe again.

He keeps his weight off you, his arms bracketing your head, hips pressed to yours, savouring the twitch and shudder of you around him.

"You win," you croak as soon as your ability to speak returns.

"Just because you've surrendered doesn't mean I'm done with you yet," he says, and shifts a little atop you. Oversensitive, you gasp at the hard, wet slide of him; nearly frictionless, he's so deep inside you that you ache.

"I can't," you gasp.

But you can. And you do. And so does he.

Afterwards, he tells you it's a draw.

When you head back outside, limping a little--and there's a definite swagger to Djarin when he notices that--Grogu is more or less where you left him, sitting by the pond. His bat-wing ears twitch, and he babbles happily as the Mandalorian picks him up.

"Hey," you say, frowning as you notice something. "All the frogs are gone."

Grogu burps.

Din Djarin sighs. "Guess he won, too."

♥

[meepwrites]

I feel like there is a distinct lack of the marauders just, being idiots while at Hogwarts because god help me they were definitely idiots.

Like, they absolutely tried to hide under the marauders map once when it was just hitting past curfew because it was Sirius’s turn to bring the cloak and he forgot the cloak.

And Remus and James were arguing with him because “Dude !” and he got pissed, took the closest object - the map - and exclaimed ‘We can use this !’

This stupidity stunned all of them so much that there was just silent for a solid beat drop until-

Lupin collects the groups braincells,

“We can barely all fit under the cloak at this point you think THAT will hide us, which one of us can eve-“

Peter transforms into Wormtail and goes “squeak squeak !”

and Sirius bursts out laughing so loud remus has to be like “Shut up !”

and he’s like “BUT HE- he- AHAHA.”

and James just, takes the map from moony and throws it at peter and points and Remus is like “Okay fucking point taken one of us can but I want to see you try it James.”

James looks back at Remus like “Touché.” and Remus just snatches the map back from pete like “Turn back wormtail you can’t even move with the map on you.”

and Peter does but then he’s like “actually I do think I have a better chance of getting away like that.” and remus is like “Dude, Mrs.Norris.”

and Peter blanches, remus holds all the braincells truly.

And then after a few more moments of silence,

Sirius is the one who puts up his hand at last and is like

“Do we solemnly agree to fucking bolt back to gryffindor tower.”

And Remus looking frantically at the map and the approaching teachers just growls and goes

“Yeh-“ and in surprise to all of them, fucking takes off immediately around the corner, skidding back to call

“LAST ONE OF YOU THERE GETS DETENTION.”

James catches him saying “god I hope it’s Sirius.’ before he really picks up his sprint again - they all know Moony needs the head start - and sirius is shock rooted onto the spot like “HEY-“

and pete is like “oh no oh no oh no-“

and James is already leaving them like “LATER LOSERS.”

And whoever around the corner, filch or snape if he was a prefect who knows just barely catches sight of Sirius’s face and a pet rat at his feet (Peter has a terrible habit of unwillingly transforming when he gets scared.) before Sirius snatched up the rat and turned running around the corner too, shouting insults and making little squeaky noises respectively.

Aside from the head start, the only reason Remus made it back first AND without anyone seeing is because he took the map, the cheeky boy.

The rest of them were jumping in and out of turns and secret passageways trying to avoid the horrors that are Mister Filch and his cat and several house prefects.

James (to later go with his story when he inevitably ended up in detention)

DID actually run head first into Lily who he swerved around and ran backwards (knocking into a random suit of armour) winking at her “HEY EVANS !”

Regulus fellow prefect got to witness this because he was just going after Evans and James just NEARLY missed bumping directly into him,

Regulus was just blinking and siddling up to Lily murmuring “what was that about.” before Sirius sprinted past him, shouting “OH MY GOSH REGULUS !! I FORGOT YOU GOT A BADGE GOOD LUCK.” and Regukus was just like “and there goes my idiot brother.”

Lily didn’t even look at him to be able to say “Yes this is normal, no they’re not usually screaming and running for their lives but I am surprised about that now this seems fitting.” that was the first time she heard Regulus’s enchanting little chime of a laugh and it made her smile, they continued on their way chatting and wondering where exactly Remus had gotten to.

ALSO HAH,

Regulus is like

“Was my brother carrying a pet rat.

I don’t recall mothe- oh who am I kidding mother would never get him or I a pet rat.”

And Lily is just like

“Oh yeh ! I’ve seen that a couple of times with each of them, I really don’t know where they keep him, they each have an owl, or well I think Pettigrew might have a toad but not a rat.”

they chalk it up as one of those marauder mysteries until they learn abt their animagi forms at which point both Lily and Regukus look at each other and point at Peter like “THE MYSTERY RAT.”

Anyways I bet you 5 galleons Sirius tripped James up btw that’s how he out run him.

OR ACCIOD HIS GLASSES, shouting “SORRY MATE I WILL GIVE THEM BACK.”

and James was like

“??? SIRIUS YOU LITTLE-“

He loves James.

he was however not about to be put into detention by his to be boyfriend screw him.

Remus literally had to go back to collect James bcs bitch can’t see anything and he had to be like “Er no I am not taking back what I said but I am sorry I have to put you into detention with Mcgonagall, better luck next time Prongs.”

Some up late 6th years didn’t even bat an eye anymore when Remus stumbled into the common room supporting James on his shoulder.

Anyway James gets detention, Remus begins to learn the skills of bullshitting with a straight face because Mcgonagall looked him straight in the eye when he brought James to be given said detention and went :

“So you are telling me only Mr. Potter snuck out last night?" "Yes professor." "And none of you accompanied him, and you even gave him detention?" “Uh- yes professor, that is exactly what I did.”

Mcgonagall is pushing her glasses up like

“How odd.”

Remus is sweating like ‘Shite-‘

The only reason Remus even made it out of her class is BECAUSE the one he got in detention was James.

Sirius would gladly drag any of his friends down with him into detention if he could, even Moony.

But James ?

troublemaker as he maybe he’s a bros dude and his greatest strength lies in his love for his friends so the moment he sees Moony flush red in embarrassment under Mcgonagall’s gaze is the moment he immediately, without hesitation decides to lie, voice clear

“No he’s telling the truth professor !”

“Oh ?”

“I was out alone, I was trying to catch a sight of Lily Evans you see, they do prefect duties together.”

He presses on, ignoring Moony’s astonished stare on the back of his head.

“So I thought Remus would do me a favour and help me out but, as you can see, he put his prefect duties above his friendship to me and put me into detention.

Just as you would have wanted him to Professor, so don’t question him.”

And if you imagine James as head boy then this is definitely one of the key moments that lands Mcgonagall choosing him as head boy.

Because he’s lying through his teeth, she knows it but he’s doing it for a friend and it’s the first time she witnessed Mr.Potter in such a light so the moment stuck.

Anyways to round this silliness off :

Sirius makes fun of Remus the moment he’s out of her class and Remus seeing his stupid grin is like “Not a word !!” “awee but Moony aren’t you doing such a good job *silly voice* putting us in our places at long last, Dumbledore would be proud.”

Moony’s just muttering under his fingers, exasperated like “If you don’t shut up Sirius I will put you in your place.” He doesn’t realise that Sirius stopped walking and he nearly walks into a first year by consequences “what ?” “What.”

Teehee.

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

*waking up in the middle of the night to create the rewrite* Da hoes gonna loooooove this~.

As vaguely promised, here is Ban! The Sin of Greed himself, finally with a bit less red on him. But, of course, still with his slutty little crop tops, as he deserves. Might not be able to mansplain, manipulate, manwhore his way out this one, though.

Long hair on Ban does things to me so i’m subjecting all of you to the mullet. But it’s okay, because he looks good in almost anything. This outfit is largely inspired from a few of his Grand Cross outfits that I took a liking to, especially the jacket with the fur collar. I think it gives him more of that fox look, while also emphasizing the Greed aspect and how he likes nicer things; fur coats or even coats with fur linings or collars are typically viewed as being more luxurious, and I think it looks good in him. Same goes with the fur-lined boots.

As stated above, the steel-toed boots and armoured claws are good for both combat and scaling buildings. I like to think Ban is good at scaling buildings since he climbed the Sacred Tree so easily, and he’s a thief so why not let him be a thief. Let him get up to sketchy stuff, it’s what he deserves. Additionally, I thought it might be cool to make Ban a Beastman, or at least half of one. He always had a few characteristics about him that were just a bit too animalistic to not be explained. He hides it pretty well, and it’s likely that most of the Sins don’t actually know about it, bar Meliodas who’s known him the longest. And, despite what you might expect, I think it might be neat to make Ban a Werewolf rather than a Werefox like Zhivago. You would expect a Fox, which are sly, cunning, untrustworthy, thieving—most of which Ban is, but I think making him Wolf reveals the parts of him that aren’t as often considered, like his bravery and loyalty—if not towards Liones then towards Meliodas—and his fiercely protective nature.

In my mind, the “tattoos” on each sin have always seemed more like brands; they’re technically criminals, after all, and tattoos CAN technically be removed even if it would be harder in this setting (bar some sort of magic, probably). Brands are much harder to get rid of, if not impossible, and I think it would suit their perceived crimes. However, because of his regenerative healing, the branding iron never quite worked on Ban, so they said “fuck it” and whipped out the stick and poke.

And that’s all for Ban for now. I’m quite proud of this one. Let me know what ya think, if ya’ll are so inclined, and I will see you relatively soon!

[emmalostinwonderland]

I'll ask for DinLuke skinny-dipping because Din deserves to get that armour off 🤭

Thanks for the ask! I haven't written DinLuke since last Christmas, and I've never dabbled with GFFA fic, but a bit of Prince of Naboo Luke/Manda'lor Din honeymoon style just sounded right. There's not a lot of water time involved, but Din does get his armor off! I hope you like sappy shit lol

Din watches wide-eyed as Luke first steps out of his shoes then begins undoing the clasp of his gown. “Luke? What… what are you doing?” The lake is beautiful, lit only by the moons in their various states of waxing and waning in Naboo’s sky. Luke is beautiful like this too ��� though he always is – with the moonlight draped about him like a veil. He is every bit the bride today, and Din is quick to file this memory away alongside their ceremony earlier today. He admires the slope of his riduur’s shoulders, the strength in his back and his legs as he takes a few steps into the water… his ass. Curvy. Bare. Biteable. Din swallows hard and hopes the vocoder in his helmet didn’t pick up the sound. “Aren’t you coming?” Luke turns to look back over his shoulder, laughter tucked into every part of his face and dancing in his beautiful blue eyes. “There’s no one around to see us, you know. The servants are in bed, and my family has gone back to Theed.” Din stands stiff as a board, unable to tear his eyes off the young prince. “I… my beskar’gam– my armor…” “Oh… do you not want to take it off? They said it’s allowed–” “It is. And I… I do. I– it’s just–” Luke nods and turns fully to return to shore. He doesn’t try to cover anything, and Din’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. He knows he’s staring, but he just can’t bring himself to stop. “May I help you?” Luke asks, speaking softly now that he’s close enough to touch. Din hesitates only a moment more before nodding dumbly. Luke’s hands are gentle when they touch him, first lifting his helmet and holding it out of the way with one hand so he can stroke Din’s cheek. “Hello again,” he teases. “Ner riduur. Right?” “‘Lek. Yes. Your pronunciation has improved too.” “Whatever it takes to impress you, sweetheart.” Din doesn’t say that he’s impressed with everything about Luke. He knows it’s all over his face anyway; wearing a helmet every day for most of one’s life isn’t conducive to learning to control one’s expressions. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and helps Luke carefully remove each piece of beskar until he’s standing there in just his flight suit. “There,” Luke says, stepping back. “I think you’ve got it from here, wouldn’t you say?” All Din can do is simply nod again. “Perfect. Meet me in the water when you’re ready. I want to kiss you under all the stars.”

From the ficlet friday prompts

[nukaberries]

Hey, could I have some reactions to the male companions *coughValentinecough* reactions to seeing a female Sole Survivor outside of their radiation suits for the first time?

This is actually a really cool idea!! and I'm loving the appreciation that Nick's getting right now (Bethesda make him romanceable NOW)

//

Male Companions React to Seeing Sole Outside Her Radiation Suit

(Includes: Danse, Deacon, Hancock, MacCready, Nick and Preston)

Paladin Danse He can relate to always wearing a suit that hides most of his appearance. However, Sole has seen Danse out of his power armour a fair few times while they've been travelling together, he's never seen Sole in anything but her radiation suit. He won't say anything at first, wanting to keep their relationship strictly professional, but Sole may catch him staring for a little too long from time to time, before snapping out of it and pretending nothing had happened.

Deacon He'd definitely already made his guesses on what Sole looks like outside of the suit. His personal favourite theory - that Glory and Tom got sick of hearing about - was that Sole had six heads and fourteen arms coming out of her stomach. Still, he can't deny that he's somewhat taken aback when Sole eventually does take her radiation suit off. He'll make a comment on how he's relieved she has a normal amount of limbs, to which he'll refuse to elaborate on. If they're in Railroad HQ, Glory will definitely smack him across the head.

Hancock While he never would've openly admitted, despite a few passing comments about Sole's 'interesting get up', Hancock was so curious about what Sole actually looked like under her suit. He would've never outright asked though, not wanting to come off as weird. When Sole does take her suit off around him, depending on how close they are, Hancock might mention how he prefers them without the suit. He won't want to make Sole feel uncomfortable though, especially if they're not very close, so he'll leave it at that.

MacCready He has no idea why Sole insists on wearing her radiation suit everywhere. The Glowing Sea, sure. Boston Commons, maybe. But Diamond City? If MacCready ever brings up Sole's suit, it'll be more about how he doesn't understand why they wear it everywhere. When Sole finally takes off her suit in his presence, he's initially just relieved it doesn't look like he's travelling the Commonwealth with an alien, then he realises how beautiful Sole actually is. It makes travelling with her afterwards a little more awkward - for him - often finding himself quite flustered around her. He just hopes that Sole hasn't caught on yet, or that she ever will.

Nick Valentine With his own get up being rather unconventional - how often do you see a synth detective? - Nick actually appreciates that Sole only ever goes around in a radiation suit. It somehow balances out how unusual they both appear alone and makes him feel just a little less abnormal. Admittedly, he is quite curious as to what Sole actually looks like, but he'd never outright ask or make her feel like she had to show him. When Sole does take her suit off, he's pleasantly surprised, but he won't mention it, wanting to avoid making her uncomfortable, even if he does think Sole's a sight for sore eyes. Whether Sole decides to keep the suit off or she puts it back on right after, Nick won't mind either way, he's just happy to have the company.

Preston Garvey When Preston first met Sole outside the Museum of Freedom, he was almost dead certain she was an alien, seeing her take down all those raiders in her radiation suit. He's only ever mentioned Sole's choice in clothing a few times, mainly wondering how she got into that power armour when she took on the Deathclaw. He'd never actually ask Sole to take her suit off, worrying she might not feel comfortable enough to, so when she finally does, he's relieved that she trusts him enough to take it off around him. Sure, her beauty is a bonus, but he decides to keep that part to himself for now.

[lilbittymonster]

Day 3: Tempest

Read on AO3

“We need to go. Now.”

“You sound awfully concerned, Kitali. I doubt that-”

“I can think of only one other wandering dragonslayer, and they didn’t hire me,” she interrupted. “We need to go.”

She strode out of Reunion’s walls and gave a sharp whistle for her yol. The massive bird landed a few yalms before her, and Orn Khai wheeled about as she mounted. With a great rush of air the sprawling grasslands dropped out from beneath her. Gripping the leather collar, she directed them to fly northwest through the fingers of Ceol Aen, scanning below for any sign of a hunting party or Faunehm herself.

A flash of movement caught her eye as a lone figure sprang from one outcropping of rock to another, and something in her chest twisted painfully.

“Where is she?!” Orn Khai said over the wind as they wheeled. “We must find her before that hunter does!”

“Or we just stop him ourselves.”

Kitali leaned forward, bringing the yol back down to the grass in a buffeting of feathers, and dismounted. The single dragoon off in the distance grew steadily closer. There was no possibility he hadn’t seen them. The setting sun was still leaking through the mountains as he approached, and Kitali could see the exact moment he recognised her in the change of his stride.

“Tis good to see you again, Kitali,” Estinien said once he was within speaking distance.

A writhing knot of emotions welled like a tempest wind at the back of her throat.

You left I’m glad you aren’t dead why did you leave you look happy for once why didn’t you say anything-

I missed you.

“You have new armour,” is what she said instead.

He looked down at the suit of deep indigo and gold. “Aye, ‘twas a gift from Hraesvelgr.”

“I wasn’t aware the two of you were on speaking terms,” Kitali scoffed.

“Nor I,” Estinien shrugged. “But I’m hardly one to turn down a gift when offered. Certainly not from a member of the First Brood.”

“You are the hunter tasked with killing the dragon, yes?” Orn Khai interjected without preamble.

“...Aye. And I assume you are here for the same reason, then? Azure Dragoon habits die hard, it seems.” He frowned. “Although, I suppose neither of us still hold that mantle anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kitali said flatly.

Estinien opened his mouth to reply, but a squawk from Orn Khai stopped him short.

“The Azure Dragoon of Ishgard?! Both of you?!”

“And who exactly is your diminutive companion, here, Kitali?” Estinien asked.

“This is Orn Khai,” Kitali said. “Friend of Heustienne. He’s the reason I’m here.”

“We’re searching for my father’s lost consort!” Orn Khai piped up, his shock quickly forgotten. “And we found her, though she’s been afflicted by some terrible agony and wouldn’t speak to us. Not even my voice could reach her. I think her long years of isolation from Father have taken their toll on her.”

“And you journeyed all the way here from Dravania? A desperate search indeed. It seems the fates would have it that we met this day, for word of this dragon only reached mine ears not long after arriving here in the Far East. It had been my intention to act as intermediary between dragon and man, assuming the beast could be reasoned with. If not, I was prepared to brandish my lance.”

Kitali’s gaze flicked to the blade that loomed above him on his back, still twisted by Nidhogg’s touch as it had been on the Steps.

“Regardless,” Estinien said, catching her gaze wandering, “I would wager the young one has the right of it. And what’s more, she doubtless still suffers from Nidhogg’s hateful dirge. To think she was able to resist the call speaks to great strength of will.”

“But she would still not listen to me!” Orn Khai lamented. “How can we tell her she can return home to Dravania if she will only try to kill us?”

“I can think of but one way we can still save her,” Estinien said. “We weaken her enough that she is willing to listen to reason.”

“I already tried,” Kitali said. “She didn’t seem interested.”

“I very much doubt repeating the attempt will change anything,” Orn Khai added dejectedly.

“And I do not advocate for a repeat approach, little one. I would have you use your roar. I have experienced first hand the power of a wyrm’s roar, and have little doubt that that is the only way we can hope to reach her.”

“But…..I have never roared before,” Orn Khai said.

Estinien gestured between Kitali and himself. “You have the two dragoons who bested Nidhogg at your side. You have naught to fear.”

“I-I shall do my best. Should we fail, I do not think we shall have a second attempt. Pray lend me your strength, Azure Dragoons.” Orn Khai raised his head, searching. “Faunehm is this way, I believe,” he said before flying off into the ravine.

Estinien turned to Kitali, his expression uncharacteristically softened. “Shall we?”

She couldn’t stop the answering smile that pulled at her own lips. “Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

okay so I know you said no more ideas BUT I need to vent this one out with opinions.

Medical Royal AU with Landoscar, King Lando and personal knight Oscar assigned to him at a young age so they pretty much grew up together. Smitten Lando, Oblivious Oscar. Oscar believes he could never be that person to Lando because he's only a common knight, and at most his best friend, meanwhile Lando has already delusionized his way into having a family with Oscar at this point.

Now ofcourse all important matters need to be approved by Lando as he is king, so it's quite suspicious when every single marriage proposal to Oscar is rejected without a second glance..... Lando's quite possessive when it comes to things that are his, and Oscar is most definitely his.

OKAY getting ahead of myself, I have so much more stuff for this but you'll be here forever, my most favorite scene is when Oscar, one day because of exhaustion, shows up late to wake Lando for the day, and ends up falling asleep at the door (Oscar's room mayhaps be the only room next to Lando's in the royal quarters) Lando is worried because for the first time (because Oscar that idiot would still perform his knightly duties even when deathly ill much to Lando's displeasure) he hasn't seen his sweet knight all day, but he must carry on with his duties, when he comes back to his room he sees Oscar still asleep in a rather painful position, and at once he's on everyone's heads for not informing him that Oscar was here, for not making sure Oscar went to sleep properly, and then he carries him to bed himself because he trusts no one else, and there is so much fond and cuddles and I just love fluff

OKAY I should probably sleep since I have college in 4 hours but take with this what you will

c:

OH DARLING ANON

i'm using my singular ounce of energy that I have today to take the time to reply to this ask while I lie in my bedroom in the dark.

JOKE'S ON YOU, I likely won't ever write anything in a medieval setting because that requires too much research (I say like i don't spend an excess of time looking into certain race stuff and sebchal lore for the other fic i'm working on)....

As an ex-medieval high fantasy writer the world building is actually super difficult and i have a handful of unfinished, beautiful, novel stuff that i'll likely NEVER finish, tragically.

BUT ON TO THE GOOD SHIT.

God I actually love this. Young Oscar being a page to the knight that originally is assigned to Lando, as he's in the process of learning. The two of them become close, despite the disapproval of Lando's parents because he shouldn't be like...play sparring with this page, it's beneath him.

Lando falling more and more for him, while Oscar's like "god he's cute but like....nothing will ever happen, i'm not good enough, i'm not a high enough station" meanwhile every young noblewoman in the land is like tripping over themselves because of his perfect floppy blonde hair and his pretty brown eyes and how handsome he looks in a suit of armour. Every eligible bachelorette in the land vying for his hand.

Everyone expecting the announcement that he's going to be married at any time, and then Lando just keeps putting the applications through whatever the medieval version of a shredder is (probably just tearing them up). And like...maybe Oscar does court some lovely lady for a little while just for like...keeping up appearances, to try and like get over whatever he feels for Lando. But it just doesn't work, and Lando gets a little sick with jealousy.

Anyhow I imagine something dramatic, maybe there was some sort of assassination attempt or something and so Oscar had to deal with all of that, and so he didn't realize he was running behind, but he's been up for almost a full 24 hours (haha same Oscar, same) and then he just goes and kinda slumps down right outside of Lando's door, armour still on. AND YEAH, Lando sweetly stroking Oscar's cheek to wake him up, helping him to his feet, bringing him into Lando's room. Helping him out of his armour (fellas is it gay to help your protector out of his armour) and it's all just tender and sweet and Oscar's like "why are you doing this?" as Lando's like helping him into his personal bath or whatever and Lando's just like "are you stupid? I love you"

Of course there's logistics to be worked out because y'know something something about maintaining a royal bloodline and how that can't be done as a gay couple but like...

yeah there would be a lot of fluff and sweetness. Very cute, I love it anon

Also sleep well, or at least better than I did <3

[m-jelly]

Hi, Miss Jelly!!! Sorry it took a while for me to reply, huhu. I'm the one who requested the Pacific Rim inspired one. It's totally alright, I understand! Basically, Pacific Rim is like the cadets, and soldiers control a big robot from the inside.

I'd really love one with an Earth based, and since they have suit armors and advanced tech already, it'll be awesome if the titans evolve into something alien like, you know? Hehe. I think it would be fun to have levi and the reader in a secret relationship, but since he's always head over heels for them, he'd be all smug , heart eyes and all when reader does badass things.

Honestly, that's all I ask hehe. Just have fun with writing it, Miss Jelly. You can add whatever you wish if you want. Just wanna see Levi adore reader so much 🥹. Thank you so much! 🫶🩷🎀

Lovable strength.

Levi x fem!reader

Future AU, romance, action, being a couple, fighting, armour, tech, love.

Earth is fighting off an invasion from the Titan alien race. At the front of an elite insane team is Captain Levi and his Lieutenant, you. While you're leading the charge, behind the scenes the two of you are deeply romantically involved with each other.

Tag list below the cut

"This land will be red with the blood of human scum! This is our planet! Our land! Those rats who hide will be dragged out, publicly executed and used for our amusement!" His voice rang and echoed over the war-torn land. A wide smirk spread over his cracked lips as his soldiers screamed in praise. He knew he had to continue. "My Titans!"

"Tch." Levi pressed his earpiece as he spoke to you, his lover, on a private channel. "Does he ever shut the fuck up?"

A sweet laugh came from you. "Come on now, my love, you know very well he won't stop."

He shifted in his full-bodied tight armour, the groves and joints moving with him. "He's a fucking dumbass. He has no clue we have him surrounded."

"That's why this is so funny."

He huffed as he felt frustrated. "I want to be with you."

"I can fix this."

"How?"

You hummed a laugh. "Watch, my love."

Levi watched the leader yapping on further, but something sparkled in the light of the sun. Levi shifted his head and tapped his helmet so he could see a bit better. "I'm watching."

His eyes widened when he saw a flash of colour go right past him. The leader stopped talking as a body, Levi loved exploring at every opportunity, flew right by the leader. No words came from the man, his eyes rolled back, his knees slammed to the floor and his head slid from his neck and dropped to the floor.

You had cut his head clean off.

Levi felt an uncontrollable rush of arousal inside him. It was like watching a killer angel in battle. As soon as you flew past and the Titans began to panic, your body twisted up in the air allowing you to look down. Little objects flew from you. Crackles and speaks snapped through the still air and a rain of explosions began.

Levi smirked. "I fucking love that woman." He rose to his feet. "Attack!"

The Titans who survived the blasts watched in pure horror as armoured soldiers launched up into the air showing they were surrounded. All soldiers wore armour and on their full-bodied armour stood proudly the symbol that terrified the Titans.

The wings of freedom.

The most insane, crazy, dangerous, skilled and suicidal humans were here and no one was getting out alive unless they wanted it. Screams of pure fear and horror ripped through the sky. Titans fell before they could even reach their massive mech machines. They had lost before the battle had even begun. Their leader was dead and their supplies were destroyed.

Their leader was wrong. Humans were a fearful race with a drive to survive and fight that was so strong that it was pure insanity.

A wide grin spread on your face, you enjoyed this too much and being able to fight for your planet alongside your lover was a dream. Your blades ripped and tore through Titans as they screamed and begged for mercy. There was no mercy for them, not after what they did, not after the slaves they took or the blood they farmed for their machines to run.

No one was getting out alive.

With a flick of your body, you fired your jets on your suit and launched forwards. Now with your blades on your back again, you ripped your guns off your thighs and began firing. As your agile body twisted and turned in the summer sun, victory was clearly on the horizon.

Little bots floated around you and Levi showing the powerful winged leaders who would bring victory to the human race. Projected to almost every screen on the planet, people watched as you and Levi used your jets on your suits to move and looked like you were dancing together around the battlefield.

The two of you met together before stopping your jets. You free fell together towards the ground. With eyes locked onto each other through your helmets, there was an unspoken love between the two of you. As the ground grew closer and your love stronger, you fired your jets, twisted your bodies and shot the last Titans together before landing on the stage where the leader once stood.

You panted next to Levi as you admired the land around you. You released a long sigh. "Well, do you wanna do the honours and raise the flag?"

Levi pulled the baton off his lower back and held it up high. "Thank you." He pressed the release button causing the baton to turn into a massive pole with a flag on the end. "Our wings of freedom win again." He slammed it into the ground so all could see.

You hummed a laugh. "That was hot." You laughed as he looked over at you. "Don't worry, we're on a private channel still. The things I'm going to do to you tonight."

"I can't wait." He released a long sigh. "You know, what you did was incredibly dangerous."

"I know."

"Well?"

You folded your arms. "Well, what? We needed to get rid of him. He was annoying you with all his yapping, so I took care of him for you. Besides, those Titans panic and disperse when their leaders are killed. They're nothing without them."

"You're right." He pouted. "I just...I worry about you."

You reached over and held his pinkie. "I understand."

"I love you."

You squeezed his pinkie. "I love you so much." You shifted on the spot. "Wanna find somewhere private and make out?"

Levi perked up. "Yes please!"

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity

@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously