#i hope that cape warmed them

[saintxgerard]

He is a cozy vamp come on

[justmymindandstuff]

his choice - Cregan Stark x WifeReader

summary: Cregan and you have lost your child. A miscarriage after only a few moons in your pregnancy. While you sink into your grief, Cregan has to deal with his Lords. Until they make a suggestion that drives Cregan to the brink.

words: 1.932

warnings: Miscarriage, talk about miscarriage, pregnancy topics, canon-typical misogyny, grief, threats

a/n: first time writing Cregan. Hope you like it. English is not my first language // Gif not mine// AO3// no use of Y/N. I'm not happy with the title but unfortunately I couldn't think of anything better.

requests are open

Cregan hates the heat. But you need it. So he endures it. For you. You, his sweet wife. You never got used to the cold. Despite your thick gloves, you regularly feel chilly. You never complained, but Cregan sees you dancing back and forth to keep yourself a little warm. He then pulls you into his arms and wraps his arms around you. His heart skips a beat every time you snuggle into his arms and rest your head on his chest. His sweet, good, beautiful wife. The rarest flower he has picked for himself.

Cregan carefully opens the door to the chambers there Lady Stark. The warmth that greets him makes the Northman pause for a moment. Immediately sweat forms on his forehead.

Your chambers are the hottest in all of Winterfell. One of the hot springs directly under the tall tower that continuously warms the walls of your chambers. These chambers are perfect for you. You are used to warm summer days in your home. You had never seen snow before you came to Winterfell. The cold environment and the icy wind are getting to you. You are not used to the cold. Cregan has made it his mission to keep you warm. He had extra thick capes made for you, which are now draped over your narrow shoulders whenever you leave the castle. In the evening, the servants place a hot stone on your side of the bed to warm it up.

Or as his lords would say: weak. Cregan would love to behead them all for it.

Cregan pushes the thought aside and takes a step into the dark room. His eyes need a moment to adjust to the darkness. You had thick curtains hung in front of the windows. The air is stuffy and warm. Cregan's gaze goes to the bed. Your slender form is hidden under the blanket, only a few strands of your hair peek out. He knows that you heard him. Still, you don't react.

"Love?" he addresses you directly. He is trying to keep his voice under control, but a lump forms in his throat. Every time he sees you, his heart breaks. You haven't left your bed and chambers for almost two weeks.

Cregan can't bring himself to go further into the chambers. Your pain pulses through the air in this room and meets his own. Tears well up in his eyes, but he blinks them away. He has to be strong for you. He tries again, this time saying your name. The furs and blankets rustle slightly as you move and turn your head. Cregan meets your gaze with dull, bloodshot eyes. You are way too pale and Cregan knows that you hardly eat anything. Your cheeks are slightly sunken, your hair is stringy and unkempt. Nevertheless, he can't help but think that you are beautiful. He would most like to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything will be alright again. The pain will pass. He wants to promise you that. But he can't. He can't promise you anything. You both know that this pain will never completely go away again. The pain and your grief are now a part of you. Woven into every cell of your bodies and connected with your souls.

Not since that night. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch had been visiting Winterfell, and in his honor, Cregan had organized a small feast. There was music, wine, and dancing. That night, you made love to eachother and fell asleep tightly embraced.

Your desperate, pain-filled scream woke him up. Cregan had immediately called for the Maester. But the blood-stained sheets and your tears revealed everything he needed to know. You have lost your child. Again. Winterfell's Maester had done what he could, but it was too late.

" I have a meeting with the council. Wil you join me?" he asks in a quiet voice, even though he already knows the answer.

"No, not today," you say and turn your gaze away. Cregan has to suppress a sigh, his jaw tightens. Nevertheless, he tries to make his voice sound gentle as he asks.

"Do you want to get up today?" he already knows this answer too.

"No. Please leave me alone." you whisper.

Tears well up in Cregan's eyes again. He lets his gaze rest on you for a moment longer, then he turns away. He can't force you to get up. Cregan closes the door behind him. For a brief moment, he leans his back against the wooden door. Then he takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

He has to be Lord Stark now. He has duties. Even though he longs to get into bed with you and hold you. Cregan wants to be your support. The familiar corridors of his home bring him little comfort.

He thinks about how you usually walk through the halls of Winterfell on his arm. For every step he takes, you have to take two. He wishes that you come out of your chambers and return to his side. At the same time, he wants to imitate you and crawl into his bed to be overwhelmed by his grief. Cregan's heart breaks as his steps lead him further away from you.

Cregan pushes all these thoughts aside and fully slips into the role of the Lord. The guards open the door for him and he enters the council chamber. The Lords rise as he enters and lower their heads. Cregan walks through the room and sits down at the head of the table. His Lords sat down again. Cregan lets his gaze wander over everyone.

"Why was the council convened?"

His Lords exchange a few glances, some of them look down, others look around the room, or at the cups in front of them. Not a single one of his Lords looks to him. Cregan's neck hairs stand on end as the mood in the room shifts. He searches the gazes of his Lords, wanting an explanation for their strange behavior. Another moment of tense silence passes, and then Lord Karstark begins to speak.

"My Lord, it's about your wife." he looks at his hands, not to Cregan. Normally, he would not tolerate such disrespect, but the tense atmosphere in the room makes the young Lord Stark hesitate.

"What is with my wife?" he asks in a dark voice. A few of his Lords shift nervously in their seats. Lord Bolton looks at the door as if he wants to run away.

Cregan notices how his entire body tenses up.

Lord Karstark straightens his shoulders and meets Cregan's gaze, but as he begins to speak, he looks down at the table in front of him.

"We are all, of course, concerned about Lady Stark's health," he begins. Cregan has to suppress a snort at this lie. "However, we also need to be concerned about the North. The North needs an heir."

Cregans heart skips a beat before hot anger courses through his body. He hopes he misheard. But when he looks at his Lords, he knows they are serious.

Karstark swallows once but then continues speaking. "It is obvious that your Lady wife is unable to give us an heir."

Cregan would like to throw up at his words. "What do you want to tell me with that?"

"We know, of course, that your marital affairs are none of our business..." says Lord Mormont.

Lord Karstark hesitates a bit, then reaches for his wine. Silence spreads through the room.

Cregan's shoulders tense up. "My Lords."his voice is deep. "Speak."

"Correct. It´s none of your business," interrupts Cregan. Angrily, he clenches his hands into fists. "I think that's enough for today."

"Lord Stark. Please." Karstark had apparently found his courage again. "Maybe you should look for another wife, one who can fulfill her duties."

"How dare you?" a hot rage courses through his entire body. All his Lords flinch. Cregan's shoulders tremble with rage. No one meets his dark gaze. "Never again will any of you speak of this, or even think about it. And now get out of here. Before I change my mind and execute all of you for treason."

Cregan is on his feet before the words have fully faded in the room. The wine glasses on the table clink as his fists slam angrily onto the tabletop.

For a moment, no one moves. Then the room is filled with the scraping of chairs and footsteps. The door falls into the lock. Cregan takes a deep breath. Try to breathe the anger out. Slowly, his hands begin to calm down again. He counts four more heartbeats and then turns to the door. His steps automatically lead him back to your chambers.

When the door slams shut behind him, you flinch. Confused, you sit up a little in bed. He never visits you at noon. He comes to your chambers in the morning to wake you up and in the evening to tell you about his day.

"What happened?" you ask weakly. Cregan takes off his coat and sets it aside. Nevertheless, it is much too hot for him.

"Nothing," he says, but his voice trembles. Then he comes over to you and sits on the edge of the bed. You lift your head slightly and look up at him. Cregan gently strokes your head. You close your eyes for a moment.

"What did the Lords say?"

"Nothing important."

You sigh softly. "You were always a bad liar. Please tell me."

Cregan shakes his head. "It's unimportant, Love."

You sigh and then sit up completely. Cregan slides back a little. You reach for his hand.

"Tell me."

He hesitates for a moment. Then he begins to speak. "They suggested that I cast you aside and take a new wife."

"A wife who can give you heirs." you finish his sentence. Cregan nods.

Your breath comes trembling."They are right," you then whisper.

Cregan's heart tightens and he feels the tears burning behind his eyes. "No." he whispers with a choked voice. He places his large hand on your cheek and gently caress you. "You have to listen to me carefully. It's not your fault! Do you understand me?" he looks into your eyes and waits until you slightly nod. A few tears run down your cheeks, and he gently wipes them away.

He kisses your forehead and finally lets himself start to cry. He wraps you in his arms and you bury your face in his chest.

"I would never give you up, my love. I don't care what my Lords say or what they want. You are my wife. You are my Lady Stark and I love you." his voice trembles with every word and he pulls you closer to him. You tremble in his arms but try to calm yourself by taking deep breaths.

"What if I really can't give you an heir and you realize in 20 years that you actually need an heir? Then it will be too late."

"No! I don't care. Love. I want you. You are enough for me. You as a person and not you as a way to an potential heir. If I had to choose I would choose you every time." his gaze pierces yours. Your tear-streaked gaze reflects his own. He now lets the tears flow freely down his cheeks."I love you so much. And that will never change."

Cregan takes a deep breath and then places his hand on your cheek, gently lifting your chin so you have to look into his eyes.

You nod slightly. "I love you too," you say.

[pearlcigs]

⋆ i know my girlfriend is a . . . witch! — tlou discord server

witch costume!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ ellie is normally very good at keeping her cool in public, but the way your tits look in that tight witch dress... god, it's like you put a love spell on her.

warnings ⋆ 1.70k ⋆ halloween smut, tried not to describe the outfit too much i hate that shit too but i had to for the plot my bad yall, ellie LOVESSS tits, car sex, subbyish ellie, pet names (babe), choking (e!receiving), getting caught :(

it was chilly, just as every halloween night that you could remember since you were a kid. you remember long sleeves under your princess costume and a puffy jacket once the night was over to keep you warm in the barren cold. you can reminisce fondly now and thank your parents for keeping you warm unlike back then when you thought they were trying to ruin your costume. however, your parents didn't take you out for halloween anymore, so you had no one to follow you around with a coat and reprimand you until you wore leggings under your dress.

you knew you would be cold when you found the simple black, velvety dress, choosing it since you knew you'd wear it more than once and your hard earned money wouldn't go to waste. it was simple, no broom stick or book of spells to go with the outfit, only a small witch's hat headband and the hope that one of the buttons didn't rip open when you took a deep breath. okay, maybe you got a size too small in your haste to find a halloween costume for the stupid party you had to attend with your girlfriend. it would do, right? you could just go exchange it in the morning for a larger size and in the mean time pray that you wont pass out from the lack of air flowing to your lungs.

you did have to admit though, the tightness of the dress accentuated your features, highlighting the best aspects of your body, more than just a little bit of cleavage being shown. you didn't have time to complain or admire your dress though, already far too late. you finished getting ready, a pair of thigh highs to complete the witchy vibe, fixing your makeup to be just right, a pair of shoes that were sure to give you blisters. by the time you had arrived at the party, people were already drunk. you fought the urge to roll your eyes, looking through the sea of intoxicated mindless college students, trying to find your lovely girlfriend who made you come to this shit show.

you spotted her in one of the corners, dina and jesse by her side. and of course they were wearing a cringey couple costume, a bold 's' on dina's white shirt and a bold 'p' on jesse's black shirt. you laughed to yourself, shaking your head as you pushed through the crowd to make it to them. ellie caught your eyes from across the room, dorky smile on her face to accompany her dork costume. she wore a batman shirt along with an attached cape, on brand for her. when you got closer, ellie could see what you chose to wear, her eyes widening as her eyes roamed over you. was it hot in there or was it just ellie?

in a matter of moments you were at her side, her heart beating out of her chest at the way you looked. she always said she had the prettiest girlfriend in the world, and tonight, you were proving it. she couldn't take her eyes off you, even as you leaned in to give a small kiss on the cheek to greet her. "wow... just wow." ellie finally speaks up, her hand that wasn't holding an alcoholic beverage finding the curve of your waist. you laugh, amused at her dorky reaction. "i got a size too small, do you think it's noticeable?" you inquired, smoothing out the wrinkles on the dress with your palm.

"it's, well, i mean, i don't..." she stutters over her words, this time earning laughs from jesse and dina. she didn't hear their laughs though, her heartbeat too loud in her ears. "it's fine, yeah, fine." she swallows, squeezing your waist slightly. it was no doubt that you were a very attractive woman and ellie made sure you knew that always. "i mean, beautiful. you look beautiful. not fine, beautiful." her words gave you butterflies in your stomach, even if she did butcher them at first. "smooth, ellie. real smooth." dina chimes in, big grin on her face from watching her friend try to flirt.

"shut up. the ladies love me." she protests, squeezing your waist even tighter and taking a sip of her drink. maybe she just needed some liquid courage. "ladies? plural?" you question, teasing her for her cocky attitude. "lady. lady! obviously just you. obviously. if any other girl wanted me, well, i'd just have to drop kick them, y'know babe?" you can't help the snort laugh that comes out of you at her nervous attempt to smooth things over. normally she was so calm and collected around you, but right now, she couldn't even think straight. the only thing she could think about was your tits and how good they looked in that dress.

the way the fabric hugged them, watching your chest rise and fall as you breathed. with each breath you took, they threatened to spill out. god, ellie just wanted to leave marks all over your chest. you could see clear as day that ellie was staring. the way she was ogling at you was making you confident and maybe a little horny. time went on, talking with some people, getting your own alcoholic drink (because what's a halloween party without getting drunk), even convincing ellie to dance with you. and still, the whole time, ellie was mesmerized by you.

it was well after midnight, jesse and dina no where to be found. "of course," ellie thinks to herself. they always disappeared when it was time to leave. ellie didn't want to wait any longer, leading you to the car. you told her you could just take an uber, same as how you got here, but she protested that she could take you home. the two of you waited in the car, ellie fiddling with the aux after texting jesse you were waiting in the car for them. the window was rolled down, reminding you of the chilly october breeze. you rolled the window back up, not wanting to catch a cold.

you stared at your window, watching kids with their parents roam around with their costumes and buckets of candy. you wanted that to be you and ellie one day. however, while you were thinking of ellie wholesomely, she was still drooling over your tits. i mean, you were alone now, a few marks wouldn't hurt anyone. "hey. you wanna, y'know?" she smiles awkwardly as she nods her head to the backseat. "just until dina and jesse get their asses out here." she continues on, trying her hardest to convince you to make out with her right now. she wanted to taste you on her lips.

you rolled your eyes at her feeble attempt to convince you but somehow her loser charm worked on you. and before you knew it, you were both in the backseat, grinding down on ellie as she kissed your neck and chest. pants and heavy breaths filled the car, half-assed moans falling from both of your lips. "your tits look so good. like.. fuck, babe." she rambled, leaving the marks she craved to leave all night on the exposed skin of your breast. "this dress is incredible." she continued on, just praising your entire existence at this point. "would look even better off though." she smiled like a nerd.

"dina and jesse will be here soon..." you tried to weakly protest, not making any effort to stop her as she unbuttons the dress. your tits immediately spilled out, and suddenly being able to breathe better. "they're probably somewhere fucking." ellie counteracted, not wasting a second to put her mouth on your nipples. you gripped her shoulders, grinding your hips down onto hers and cursing under your breath. you were so sensitive, craving ellie in a way you hadn't before. maybe it was a full moon, but then again it didn't really matter. all that mattered was ellie tongue gliding over your supple skin.

"i could cum just from looking at you." her voice is raspy, becoming drunk on your taste. "really?" you moan out, hands exploring ellie's body and sliding underneath her shirt. her skin was so warm, so inviting. "'course, babe." she mumbles, too focused on marking up your perfect body. "i need you so bad." you admitted, bringing one of yoru exploring hands up to her neck. she looks up at you, eyes almost rolling back at the notion of you choking her. she presses her lips against yours, her hand fumbling to find it's way under your dress and into your panties. she ran her fingers through your folds before pressing against your clit.

you moaned into the kiss, moving your hips with no rhythm to desperately feel the pleasure you crave. you pull away, eagerly lifting ellie's stupid batman shirt over her head to reveal her sports bra. you dragged your hand down her body, starting at her neck all thw way down to the button of her jeans, all while careless whines fall from your swollen lips. it was your turn to leave marks now, doing your best to keep your focus as you put your lips on her neck. "fuck, babe. this is so hot." ellie licked her lips and tilted her head back to really enjoy your kisses. her fingers never stop, working at your clit like that was their only job.

the windows of the car started to fog now, past hand prints from previous moments like this reappearing and being lewdly illuminated from the moon. just when you were about to unbutton ellie's pants, there was a knock on the window, pulling you both out of your blissful state. it was hard to see through clouded over windows, but the recognizable white shirt with an 's' on it made both you and ellie's heart rates pick up. ellie hand was out of your underwear faster than it went in. frantically, you rebuttoned your dress and ellie struggled to get her shirt back on. "of fucking course." ellie grumbled, and you were thinking the same exact thing. oh well, maybe next time, or maybe on the car ride home if ellie was feeling bold.

[sushiyuzu]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄

type: special halloween oneshot

pairing: sylus x fem!reader

cw/genre: nsfw/smut (*mdni)，fluff，romance，tension

summary: when celebrating halloween together, sylus wants to show you how a true dracula indulges in the night 🦇🖤

start to end: 27/10/2024 – 29/10/2024 ᝰ.ᐟ

a/n: hey everyone! i just wrapped up a special halloween oneshot that took me three days and probably more caffeine than i care to admit. it’s a super long read—over 7,000 words! (i think) so, grab your fav snacks, get comfy, and prepare to be entertained. i promise it’s worth your time, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself 💀

happy (early) halloween, and enjoy the read! 🎃

halloween night has finally come, and your heart beats faster with excitement and nerves as you step into sylus’s mansion in your 6-inch heels.

the grand entrance is decorated beautifully, with soft cobwebs and candles flickering everywhere. shadows dance on the marble floor, and you catch the faint scent of pumpkin spice in the air. it feels perfectly festive, and you wonder if sylus is the one who set it all up.

you hope he is.

you take a final look in the mirror. your costume is a stunning female vampire. your dark red dress fits perfectly, hugging your curves, with lace that adds a touch of elegance. the high slit on the side reveals just enough of your leg, and your makeup is bold with dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick. your hair is neat, framing your face. you even added fake fangs to complete the fierce look.

you and sylus had been discussing and planning to celebrate halloween together a few nights back. though onychinus and linkon city were far from each other, the distance felt like a small obstacle in your high-tech world, where the cities glittered with neon lights and transport drones zipped between them.

“we’ll make it special,” he had promised over the holo-call, his figure flickering slightly in the blue light. you could see the excitement in his crimson eyes, even through the hazy, digital screen. he described his plans with that rare spark in his voice, talking about turning his mansion into an eerie, gothic wonderland for the night.

“and i want you there,” he’d added softly, his voice barely a whisper, almost like he feared the city might hear him. “just us, no distractions, no noise.”

you’d laughed, feeling the warmth in his words despite the sci-fi distance between you. “i wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you’d replied, already counting down the hours to leave the metallic bustle of linkon city behind and step into sylus’s world for halloween.

now, as you walk through the mansion, you notice the dim lighting and rich decorations, making everything feel warm but mysterious. paintings line the walls, and antique furniture adds a timeless charm. each corner is dressed up for halloween, from the grand dining room to the cozy living room.

then, you hear footsteps.

sylus steps into view, and your breath catches. he looks absolutely breathtaking in his dracula costume. his black suit fits him perfectly, and a long red cape flows behind him. his silver hair is slicked back, making his red eyes shine even brighter in the candlelight. he has this confidence and elegance that makes your heart race.

“ah, my enchanting vampire,” he says in a smooth, inviting voice. “you look absolutely captivating tonight.”

you can’t help but blush at his compliment. “thank you, sylus. you look incredibly dashing as well.”

he strides closer, his presence both bold and intimidating. you feel a thrill of excitement as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “i must admit,” he says, his gaze intense and appreciative. “the sight of you is almost enough to make me forget my role.”

you smile, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest. “i can’t wait to see what you have planned for us tonight.”

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. the mixture of confidence and charm in his voice earlier sends a thrill down your spine.

sylus gestures for you to follow him into the grand living room. the space is decorated with elegant orange and black accents, the walls are adorned with gothic decorations: carved skulls, and eerie portraits, and a table filled with treats waits for you. there are chocolate-covered strawberries, ghost-shaped cookies, and a large bowl of punch with floating eyeball-shaped fruits. it all looks delicious.

you smile, looking around at everything. huh, sylus really does have a talent for detail.

“let’s indulge in some delightful treats before the festivities commence,” he says, his voice filled with charm. he leads you to the table, pouring a glass of punch for each of you.

as you snack on the treats, the cozy atmosphere wraps around you like a warm blanket. the candlelight flickers off the walls, creating a magical, mysterious feeling. sylus leans back against the plush sofa, his confident demeanor making him seem both bold and relaxed. he lifts a chocolate-covered strawberry to his lips, and you can’t help but watch as he bites into it, the sweet juices spilling slightly.

“do you know what happened during my first halloween?” he asks out of nowhere, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. you nod, intrigued.

“i was dressed as a ghost—an elegant one, of course,” he continues, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “but instead of scaring anyone, i tripped over my own cape and ended up falling into a pumpkin patch.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the usually composed sylus tumbling into a sea of pumpkins, his serious nature shattered for a moment. “i can’t imagine that! you falling into pumpkins sounds hilarious!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing in the cozy room.

he chuckles softly, the sound rich and deep, making your heart flutter. “oh, it was quite embarrassing. luke and kieran still tease me about it to this day.” his expression turns nostalgic as he recalls the memory, and you notice a rare, softer side of him—a side that allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

only with you.

“i can picture it now,” you say, grinning. “you covered in orange goo and trying to act dignified.”

“not my finest moment,” he replies, but his tone is light, and you can see the amusement in his eyes. “but it did teach me that even a dracula can have a silly side.”

you feel at ease with him, laughing as he shares more stories. each one shows you a little more of his real personality, the layers beneath his calm, mysterious exterior. he has a way of making you feel special, like you’re the only person in the room. with every shared laugh, the connection between you grows deeper, and the rest of the world fades away.

and in that moment, you realized how lucky you are to be spending halloween with him. it’s not just about the costumes or decorations; it’s the way he makes you feel—cherished, understood, and completely at home.

and you love him for that.

“do you like the decorations i made?” he asks, his crimson eyes searching yours.

you smile, realizing you were right.

he made them.

“they’re beautiful,” you reply, looking around. your heart flutters at the thought of sylus’s effort. “everything feels so magical here.”

“that was my intention,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone. “i wanted this evening to be enchanting, just like you.”

as the night progresses, the two of you find yourselves getting lost in conversation. you move closer together on the plush sofa, the warmth between you growing more intense. sylus’s big hand squeezes the soft flesh on your inner thigh, pulling you snugly against him.

you notice his gaze lingers on your lips, and it sends a thrill through you. your heart races, pounding like a drum in your chest. the air around you feels heavy with anticipation, as if the world outside has disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

sylus leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward you. his breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. the closeness makes your cheeks heat up, and you can hardly breathe. every inch between you feels charged with an unspoken desire, pulling you together like magnets.

you watch his eyes as they darken with longing. there’s a mix of seriousness and softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter even more. time seems to slow down, and all your worries melt away. in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you and the unspoken words hanging in the air.

he inches closer still, and you can feel the heat rising between you. your breath catches as his lips are mere inches from yours. it feels as if the whole world has disappeared, and you’re both lost in a bubble of intimacy. you can sense his heart racing as well, matching your own rhythm.

“do you know what happens when a vampire and dracula meet on halloween?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“no, what?” you reply, unable to hide the excitement in your tone.

he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. “they share a kiss under the moonlight.”

with that, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. the kiss starts soft but quickly deepens with passion. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you deeper. you can feel the heat rising, igniting every nerve in your body. you melt into his embrace, feeling the intensity of the moment. your hands tangle in his silver hair, holding him close as you kiss him back with equal fervor. the kiss is electric, full of longing and desire, and you lose yourself in him.

after a breathless moment, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes with affection. “i have always wanted to share this moment with you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“me too,” you whisper, feeling shy yet excited. you can see the hunger in his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“let’s not let the night end just yet,” he says, his tone becoming more commanding. he stands, extending his hand to you. “come, there is more to experience.”

you take his hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him as he leads you deeper into the mansion. he leads you through the dimly lit corridors until you reach a large door. he opens it to reveal a lavish library filled with towering shelves of books and soft, plush seating. the room smells of aged paper and wood, creating a sense of intimacy that draws you in.

“this is my favorite spot,” he says, gesturing to the plush cushions scattered around. “it’s where i come to think,” he explains, his voice softening as he gestures around the room. “it holds my secrets and desires.”

the tension between you thickens as you step inside. you can’t help but admire the way he looks in this dim light, the shadows playing off his sharp features. as you sit together on the cushions,he turns to you, his expression serious yet tender. sylus leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “a place where we can escape from the world.”

you feel a rush of heat at his words. the tension in the room grows, and you can’t resist leaning in closer. your lips barely brush against his, igniting the fire that has been building all night. sylus responds with a soft growl, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you onto his lap.

he looks at you, his expression serious yet tender. “do you feel the darkness of the night, my vampire?” he asks, his tone lowering as he leans more closer now. “it invites us to embrace our true selves.”

your heart races at his words, and you nod, feeling the thrill of the moment. “i do. it’s intoxicating.”

“then let us indulge in it.”

before you can respond, he pulls you closer, your chest pressing against his. his lips crash onto yours with a passion that ignites the air around you. the kiss is fierce and commanding, leaving you breathless as you melt against him. his hands grip your waist tightly, and you feel the heat radiating from his body.

the kiss deepens, tasting of desire in every movement. sylus’s fingers slip into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands roaming over his strong shoulders, pulling him even closer. “you make it hard to control myself, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low and thick with need. “but tonight, i want to savor every moment.”

as he pulls away, his crimson eyes darken with longing. the tension crackles between you, thick and electric. “let me show you how a true dracula indulges in the night,” he whispers, his gaze smoldering, a seductive promise in his voice.

sylus leans in again, capturing your lips with a slow, passionate kiss. his hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over the fabric of your dress, sending shivers through you. he takes his time, exploring and teasing, igniting a fire within you that grows with every touch.

every. single. touch.

the atmosphere is thick with desire, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s lips move down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you arch your back, craving more of his touch, more of his presence.

“you are exquisite,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with longing. “i want to lose myself in you tonight.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you can’t help but respond with a soft moan. “please, sylus. don’t hold back.”

the intensity between you peaks as he captures your lips once more, and the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat rising between you. sylus’s big hands roam your body, exploring every curve and inch of you. each touch sends electric shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within. his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling softly. you arch your back, craving more of him, wanting to melt into his embrace.

“you taste so sweet,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. you feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. the way he looks at you, with those dark crimson eyes filled with passion, makes your heart race even faster.

“sylus,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “i need you.”

his eyes darken at your words, a hungry glint flashing in them. with that, he kisses you again, this time with a deeper, more urgent passion. his hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as if he never wants to let go. you can feel the heat of his body radiating onto yours, and it makes your skin tingle with excitement.

the kiss grows more intense, and you lose yourself in the moment. every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting a flame inside you. he presses you closer, and you can feel the hard lines and muscles of his body against yours. it sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. “i want to feel you, all of you.”

your body responds to his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. you nod, unable to find your voice. all you can think about is the need building inside you, growing stronger with every passing moment.

sylus’s hands move from your waist to your thighs, sliding up and down slowly, teasingly. his fingers press into your soft skin, igniting every nerve ending. you can feel a warmth pooling deep inside you, a desire that makes you ache for him.

“please,” you whisper, the word slipping out in desperation.

he grins, a wicked smile that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “you don’t have to beg, my sweet,” he replies, his tone playful yet serious. “tonight is ours.”

with a swift movement, he lays you back onto the plush cushions, his huge body hovering over yours, making you feel small. the world outside fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this intimate moment. the tension between you thickens, almost tangible, as he leans down to kiss you again, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace.

his kisses grow more fervent, more demanding, and you can feel yourself responding in kind. your hands explore his body, feeling the strength beneath his clothing. the heat between you builds, a fire that consumes everything in its path.

“let go,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “let me take care of you.”

his words send a thrill through you, and you surrender to the moment. every worry, every doubt, fades away as you give yourself to him completely. you lose track of time as his kisses grow deeper, his hands exploring, igniting every inch of your skin with pleasure.

his fingers then trace along your shoulders, reaching for the shoulder yoke of your dress. he moves slowly, almost teasing, as he slips one sleeve off, then the other, his touch light and careful. his eyes never leave yours, watching you closely. he keeps his gaze on you, his fingers moving slowly down, inch by inch, sliding the dress lower, and down to the ground. the fabric feels cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, steady, and sure.

“such a work of art,” sylus murmurs, his voice low and reverent. his touch gentles, becoming almost worshipful as he bares more of your skin to his gaze. his fingers trail along your collarbone, then down to your breasts.

sylus’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the tantalizing sight of your cleavage. “oh, i missed this,” he growls softly. his fingers trace the edge of your bra, teasing the soft skin just above the lacy cups. he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “so much,” he whispers.

his eyes meet yours, filled with a silent command. his hands move to your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, slowly peels back the fabric, revealing more and more skin, inch by inch. once your bra is completely undone, he tosses it aside, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes feasting on your now bare breasts, a slow smile spreading across his face. “so perfect,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to cup the tender flesh. “like they were made specifically for me.”

exactly, just for him.

as his hand cups one, his thumb rubbing over the hard peak. so sensitive. he leans down, taking the other peak into his mouth and sucking gently. his tongue flicking out to caress the hardened bud. a soft gasp tears from your throat, your back arching as pleasure shot through you.

his touch is gentle, almost worshipful. his hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling around to squeeze your bottom. he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. carrying you, sylus walks towards his study desk, never breaking the intimate contact. he lays you down gently on the cold surface, his warm body covering yours, your ample breasts jiggle with each movement. his lips trail from them up to your neck, his tiny fake fangs grazing your pulse point. “you’re mine,”

completely and utterly his.

he continues to worship your breasts, his mouth and hands moving between them, alternating between gentle kisses and firmer sucks, his fingers rolling and pinching your other nipple. “so delicate,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. “so mine.”

“s-sy...” his name escapes your lips in a breathless moan, and you feel him smirk against your skin, clearly satisfied by your reaction.

he didn’t stop. his mouth is completely relentless, switching to the other breast and another once more, giving it the same equal attention, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin until you are squirming beneath him, every nerve in your body alight with desire.

his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. his touch becomes more demanding, his fingers digging into your flesh. he kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your thighs farther apart. his breath is hot against your core as he murmurs, “and this...”

his hands grip your thighs tighter, holding them apart as he leans down and presses his mouth to your center before biting the edge of your now soaked lace panties and sliding it to the side, revealing your wet cunt. “...belongs to me.” his tongue delves into your wet folds, parting them to lap at your nectar.

without any further hesitation, he dips his head and buries his face between your thighs. his tongue laves at your entrance, gathering your juices before thrusting inside you, fucking your hole with his tongue. your hands fist on the edge of the desk as he continues, the slow, torturous rhythm of his tongue driving you closer and closer to the edge. every stroke, every flick of it sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and it was all you could do to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.

sylus growls against your sex, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure. his tongue circles your clit before he suckles it between his lips. two long fingers plunge deep inside you, curling to stroke your inner walls. and in that moment you realize, he had come prepared. his nails on both of his middle and ring fingers are cut short, smooth and neat. he made sure to trim them carefully, knowing it’s important for what’s to come. the clean tips of his fingers shine softly in the light with each pull outs from your sweet hole, showing he thought ahead, fully caked with your pussy juices. he feels ready, knowing he can focus on the moment without any worries.

my, my, so thoughtful. yet so naughty.

sylus pumps them steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue. he sets a steady pace, his fingers plunging deep and curling to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust and rub. his tongue dances over your clit, alternating between rapid flicks and slow, deliberate licks. he can taste your arousal, feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers. your hands fisting in his hair as you try to keep yourself grounded. but it is impossible. every flick of his tongue, every suck, every moan and groan that vibrated through you only push you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to fall.

he hums against your sex, the vibrations almost too much to bear. his fingers curl more deeper, rubbing firm circles against your g-spot as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue fast. the pressure builds, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

sensing your impending orgasm, sylus doubles his efforts. he adds a third finger, scissoring them inside you to stretch your pussy even further. his mouth closes over your clit, and he sucks hard, his fangs grazing your sensitive flesh as he hums a deep, vibrations-rich note.

as your walls tighten around his fingers, he lifts his head, his mouth glistening with your essence. “look at me, sweetie,” he murmurs, his accent thick. you meet his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth wash over you. his fingers continue to move inside you, thrusting deeper with a steady fast rhythm. his palm presses against you, applying just the right amount of pressure where you need it most. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. he watches you closely, taking in every gasp and shudder that escapes your lips. you can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he craves every reaction from you. it makes your heart race even faster.

“that’s it, just like that,” he says softly, encouraging you as his fingers curl at the perfect angle. you can feel him hitting that sweet spot, and it makes you moan even louder. the room feels like it’s spinning, and all you can focus on is him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“you feel so good,” he adds, his voice low and sultry. the heat between you grows stronger, and you can't help but squirm beneath him, craving more. you feel a wave of bliss building inside you, ready to break free. you want to feel everything he has to give.

you lock eyes with him as he slowly continues to work you with his hand. his face is unreadable, but his eyes blaze with intensity. he brings his other hand up to your mouth, slowly sliding two fingers past your lips. “suck,” he commands softly, his voice low and sultry.

you obey, your tongue swirling around his fingers, tasting yourself on him. the sensation makes your cheeks flush as you feel the heat rise within you. “mmm, sylus,” you murmur around his fingers, the name spilling from your lips, filled with longing. he watches you closely, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with approval. the way he looks at you makes you feel both exposed and exhilarated. you continue to suck on his fingers, drawing them deeper into your mouth, trying to please him as much as he pleases you.

as you do this, he quickens the pace of his fingers inside you, moving with purpose. every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you moan around his fingers, the sound muffled but filled with longing.

“that’s right,” he encourages. “let me hear you.”

the combination of your soft moans and the way he works you sends you spiraling deeper into ecstasy. you can already feel the tension building inside you, tightening with every movement. it’s intoxicating, the way he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and how to push you closer to the edge.

he grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “keep going, sweetheart,” he urges, his voice a low rumble. “i want to see you lose control.”

“i... i can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, feeling your body tense and quiver with anticipation. the world around you fades as all you can focus on is the pleasure he gives you, making you feel alive and wanted.

his eyes flash with hunger as he watches you unravel, your desperate moans and the way your body trembles igniting a primal urge within him. he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot, determined to push you over the edge. he pumps his fingers into you once more, his palm pressing against you as his hand works between your legs. his other hand pulls away from your mouth, instead gently caressing your cheek. his touch is tender, a stark contrast to the way he’s working your body. with a final, firm stroke, he tips you over the precipice. you shatter, your back arching as waves of intense pleasure wash over you. he silences your cute cries with his lips, kissing you deeply as you convulse around his fingers.

his tongue tangles with yours, swallowing your cries as he draws out your release, his fingers continuing to move inside you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body. he breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes into your eyes, mesmerized by the vulnerability and raw passion he finds there. slowly, he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze. he savors the taste of your essence, his tongue swirling around his fingers as he maintains intense eye contact. a low, approving growl rumbles in his chest at your exquisite flavor. “you taste divine, my dear.”

you barely manage to breathe, your bare chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath. his gaze then drops to your heaving chest, admiring the way your full breasts rise and fall. he reaches out, gently cupping one in his large hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. “and these pillows of mine,” he murmurs, “they’re absolutely beautiful.”

he lifts your breast, his thumb continuing to tease the nipple as he leans in to capture it between his lips. he sucks gently, his tiny fangs grazing the sensitive flesh before he releases it with a soft pop. “so perfect for me to play with.”

he switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. his free hand reaches out to gently pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. “and these cute little nubs,” he murmurs against your breast, “they’re just begging to be played with as well.”

“s-sy!” you whimper, your cheeks flushing with warmth as you playfully swat at his chest, feeling a mix of embarrassment and submission.

with one swift, fluid motion, he removes your soaked panties, leaving you bare before him. his eyes darkens as he took in the sight of you, laid out on his desk, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. the hunger in his gaze was almost predatory, and you shivered beneath the weight of it.

a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, even though you could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing faintly between your legs. and no, it’s not just a want anymore.

it’s a need.

the need, the aching desire for him, was only growing stronger. he knew exactly how to make you come undone.

“sy…” you whisper, your voice a mix of exhaustion and need. you reach out, your fingers brushing over the sharp lines of his chest as you tried to pull him closer, your body already craving the press of his weight against you. “please… i want you inside me.”

his gaze flickers up to meet yours, his irises swirling with unbridled hunger and desire. his broad chest heaves with a deep inhalation, as if he was trying to draw your scent into his very soul. his fangs descend, his eyes flickering red as the scent of your arousal and the sound of your plea stoked the fire of his hunger.

“my sweet, desperate kitten.” he chuckles darkly, his fingertips tracing up your inner thigh before he gently slipped a finger inside you, testing your readiness. he hummed against your thigh, his breath hot and tantalizing against your damp flesh. his fingers trace up and down your folds, gently exploring as he watches your reactions.

your hips buck against his fingers, desperate for more friction. you muffle your moans with the back of your hand. “p-please, sylus... i-i need... i need more...”

his smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing in his crimson eyes. “such a good girl when you ask so sweetly,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your waist, brushing your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw hunger burning between the two of you.

he slowly removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty and aching. he rises to his knees, his eyes locked onto yours. “think it’s time to give you exactly what you've been craving,” he said, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

sylus slowly sheds his clothing, his eyes never leaving yours, and each inch of his body revealed only makes the fire inside you burn hotter. the sculpted muscles of his chest, the firm ridges of his abs, the silver trail of hair that leads lower—all of it is designed to drive you wild. his presence is overwhelming, his dominance palpable, and yet there is something undeniably intimate in the way he undresses before you, his gaze softening just enough to let you see the depth of his desire.

his hands trail over his own body, his touch almost reverent as he reaches for the belt on his pants before unbuckling it then slowly unzips, pushing them down his hips. his manhood juts out—hard, thick and heavy—the tip already glistening. he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a slow, purposeful stroke.

it’s been a while since you and sylus shared an intimate moment together, so the longing between you both has only grown. with the time apart, every small touch, look, and kiss now feels even stronger, like there’s a build-up you can’t ignore. the excitement is thicker, and there’s this unspoken eagerness to reconnect. you can feel the tension between you, each moment making the anticipation even harder to resist as both of you are pulled back together.

you remember the last time you were together, the warmth of his body pressed so close to yours, every touch lingering like it was meant to last forever. in that moment, his hands had explored every inch of you, memorizing every curve and line as if he couldn’t bear to forget. his voice, soft and deep, had whispered your name like it was something precious, each kiss leaving you feeling cherished and entirely his.

the memory sends a wave of warmth through you, making the present even more intense as you realize how much you missed this closeness. now, with him here again, that same longing stirs inside you, stronger and more eager than before.

when sylus is finally bare, he steps closer, his hands gripping your thighs and parting them even wider. the head of his erection brushes against your core, and you gasp, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “look at me,” he orders softly, his hand sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up so you are forced to meet his red eyes.

the intensity of his gaze sends shivers down your spine. you can see the hunger burning within him, a dark desire that makes your heart race. “i want you to remember this moment,” he continues, his voice low and smooth. “i want you to feel every inch of me inside you.”

you can barely find your voice as you whisper, “i want that too.” the words come out in a breathy rush, your excitement mixing with nervousness.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. “good. because waiting has made me even hungrier for you.” he leans closer, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin, making you tremble. “tell me what you need.”

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i need you… now,” you finally say, your voice firmer than before. the words come out almost like a plea, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“that’s my girl,” he replies, his voice thick with desire. he presses the tip of his erection against your entrance, teasing you just enough to make your body ache with need. “are you ready?” he asks, his voice low.

“yes, please,” you respond, feeling the heat in your cheeks. you can’t help but feel a little shy, but his presence makes you feel safe. he gives you a wicked smile, the corners of his mouth curling up in a way that sends a thrill through you.

“good.”

sylus shifts, his hips settling between your thighs, and you could feel the hardness of him pressing against your entrance, slick with your need. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling beneath him as you wait for him to finally take you.

and then he did.

with one slow, deliberate thrust, sylus sinks into you, the stretch of him filling you completely, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. your mouth fall open in a soundless gasp, your nails digging into his back as he fills you inch by agonizing inch. he is big—almost too much—but the delicious pressure was exactly what you needed, the perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

“fuck…” sylus groans, his voice rough and thick as he buries himself more to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours. he pauses there, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“how does that feel?” he asks, his breath hot against your ear. the sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. you whimper softly, your back arching instinctively as he fills you, stretching you perfectly.

oh, horrendously big it hurts.

very enjoyable, however.

“i-i can’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “it... h-hurts.”

his body tensed as he slowly pushed forward, his thick length filling you inch by delicious inch. “relax, my love,” he promises, his thumb caressing your cheek as he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. “you can take me, you were made for me,”

he begins to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he thrusts deep inside your welcoming heat. each powerful stroke stretches you deliciously, filling you completely. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you thoroughly. “you can handle it,”

your heart pound at his words, your body responding with a fresh flood of arousal as you nod submissively, too breathless to speak.

with each pass of his hips, he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely—it is intoxicating. you could feel every pulse of him, every twitch, and it make you desperate for more. he leans down to capture your luscious mouth with his own, kissing you deeply as he continues to move within you. his pace quickens, his breathing growing harsher with each passing moment. “you feel so good,” he hisses against your lips, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

it was almost too much—yet not enough. you want more. you need more. “faster, baby…” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his, desperate for him to give you what you crave.

his face contorts with passion, a guttural growl echoing from his chest as he speeds up his rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. the sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his ragged breath. “like that, love?”

you nod eagerly, your fingers digging into his back, your nails scoring his skin. the pleasure is almost too much to bear, the sensation of him moving inside you so intense that your vision begins to swim. he leans down and sinks his teeth gently into your shoulder, making you. the gentle pain pushing you right over the edge.

“more?” he rasps, his fingers sliding down your body to find that sweet swollen nub between your legs. as he pounds deep inside you, he begins to circle it with his fingertips, coaxing you closer to release. his crimson eyes burn into yours.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath hot against his skin. “s-sylus... i’m so close.”

with that, his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers working you into a frenzy as he continues to thrust hard and fast. he can feel you tensing around him, hear your breath hitching in your throat. “look at me,” he commands softly, his voice laced with dark promise. “i want to watch every expression on your beautiful face as you reach your peak.”

with great effort, you lift your head and lock eyes with him. his face is a mask of concentration, his red irises are dilated, his pupils blown wide with passion. his gaze bores into yours, intense and demanding. one hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he slams into you, while the other continues its torturous circles.

“sy—!” you are close. so close.

as the pleasure becomes too much, you finally reach the brink, his name spills from your lips like a prayer, your back arching, your nails digging into his flesh, a tidal wave of sensation that leaves you trembling beneath him.

his own control shatters at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. his expression tightens, jaw clenched and little fangs bared as he continues to drive into you, his hips moving like a piston. the hand on your hip slides down to grip your jiggly thigh, hiking it higher around his waist as he growls, “that’s it, love. milk me dry.”

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin as his movements become jerky, his tempo faltering.

then, without warning, sylus’s strong hands are on you in an instant, flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless motion. before you could even process what is happening, he is now behind you, pulling your hips up so that you were on all fours, your bare chest pressing into the cold surface of his desk and your ass raised high for him as you stand on his shoes on your tiptoes. his deep voice drips with dominance as he growls, “stay there, hands planted flat on my desk, back arched... just like that.” his hands roam your curves possessively, squeezing your backside before spreading your cheeks apart to reveal you to his heated gaze.

“sy…” you moan, your body responding instantly to the new position. you could already feel yourself throbbing with need again, the ache between your thighs demanding more of him.

he admires the view for a moment, taking in the sight of your pale, vulnerable ass presented to him. “don’t move.” he rasps, his voice hoarse from exertion. his hands roam freely over your curves, tracing the curve of your backside before giving your ass a light slap. his long fingers trail down your spine, tracing each vertebrae. “you look so beautiful like this.”

you moan, biting your lip in response.

he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, his touch gentle yet firm. his fingers continue to caress and pet you, slowly parting your sweet cheeks again. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, so exposed, so vulnerable. his touch becomes more intimate, his fingers parting your flesh once more to toy with the sensitive pucker hidden between your cheeks. you gasp at the sudden, new sensation, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of his desk. “sylus...”

he chuckles darkly at your needy whimper, the sound vibrating against your skin. “shhh, just feel...” he hums against your spine, the vibration sending shivers through your body. his fingers continue to tease your ass, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive flesh. “let me worship you like this for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. his fingers continue their teasing exploration, circling your tight hole with maddening slowness before pressing inside ever so slightly, breaching you with a low groan.

he slowly works his thumb deeper, his other hand coming up to splay across your lower back, holding you in place as he claims your body inch by tantalizing inch. you feel so tight, so perfect around him. “mm, you take my finger so well, m’love.”

with his thumb still inside your butthole, sylus uses his other hand to guide his big cock to your entrance, the thick head sliding through your slick folds with ease. your breath hitched in anticipation, your body already quivering as you wait for him to fill you again.

he teases the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. the tip catches on your entrance with each pass, promising penetration. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he growls, giving your ass a sharp smack, causing you to squeal.

“syyy!” you huff, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

he slowly starts to push into you, his thick head stretching you wide, his thumb moving in tandem to stretch you even further. “i’m going to fill you completely, satisfying every inch of this needy little space.”

oh god.

the sensation of being filled in both holes is overwhelming, even deeper than before, is overwhelming. you let out a desperate, mewling cry, your fingers clawing at the desk beneath you as your body adjusts to the new angle, the stretch even stronger like this. his one hand on your hips hold you firmly, keeping you in place as he moves deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

the new angle allows him to go deeper, the head of his cock brushing against a spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, it feel like he is reaching parts of you that had never been touched before, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear.

his pace quickens, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself to the hilt within you. the dual sensation of him filling both holes drives you to the brink of madness. you can’t help but push back against him, silently begging for more. your moans fill the room, making him want you even more. sylus’s thrusts grow harder and faster, each one stronger than the last. his hips press against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. the sound of your bodies, the warmth between your thighs, and the heavy breaths you both take—it all comes together in a rush of pure need and desire.

“look at you, taking me so well,” sylus growls, his voice filled with approval as he watches your body move under him. his hands then glide up your sides, moving over your waist and back, before tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back. this makes your back arch even more. “such a good little slut for me.”

his words send a thrill of heat straight to your core, and you can’t hold back the desperate moan that escapes your lips. your body is on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as sylus continues to pound into you from behind, his cock filling you over and over again with an intensity that makes your knees weak. with each powerful thrust, the pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tightly in your core like a spring ready to snap. sylus’s hand tightens in your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you even closer as he grinds into you with hard, deliberate strokes. his free hand reaches down to grab one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing it roughly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly from behind. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and index finger as he growls in your ear, causing you to moan in pleasure. “fuck, just look at those tits bouncing around, baby...”

he smirks at your desperate moan, loving how he can make your body react so intensely to his touch. how cute. his hips snap forward again and again, his thick cock stretching you open and hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

his gaze fixes on your bouncing tits, his eyes burning with a feral hunger. he suddenly pulls out of you and carries you off the desk, finally pinning you against the nearest wall. he spins you around and grabs your legs and throws them over his arms, his cock slamming back into you with brutal force.

holy fuck.

“oh god…” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as the pleasure builds inside you once more. you can feel another orgasm approaching, your body teetering on the edge of bliss, and you know it won’t take much to push you over.

his strong arms hold onto your thighs as he lifts you higher, his hips bucking against yours as he drives into you with raw, animalistic need. his face is buried between your breasts, and he growls like a beast, the vibration against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

his fangs graze over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before he latches onto your breast, sucking hungrily. mmh, so good. his body rocks into yours, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his body grinding against yours as he buries himself deep inside you.

“come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice low and demanding, muffling against your skin. “i want to feel you come around my cock again.”

his mouth stays latched onto your breast, sucking and nibbling as he continues to fuck you against the wall. the combination of his mouth on your tits, his cock pounding into you, and his arms holding your legs up is too much for your body to handle.

as you reach your climax, your inner walls clench tightly around his throbbing cock. he lets out a satisfied groan, his teeth biting gently into your breast as he sucks in your sweet skin. his hips continue to piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging the intense pleasure. his own release barrels through him moments later, his face contorting in ecstasy as he buries his face in your cleavage and roars out his pleasure. his arms tighten around you, his whole body shuddering against yours as he spills himself inside you, their combined fluids dripping down his balls. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy, labored breathing of both of you, your bodies still shaking after your intense release. sylus holds you close, pulling you against his strong chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively as you both stay in the dark, your bodies still tangled together.

slowly, he lets your legs down, his arms still wrapping around you to support your boneless body. he nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone. “mine,” he murmurs possessively, his voice laced with satisfaction. carrying you to his desk, he gently sits you down and pulling you into his embrace. his hands roam over your body, caressing your curves with gentle affection. “no one else will ever touch you like this. you are my soulmate, my beloved.”

you melt into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his silky silver hair as you pull his face to yours for a gentle, loving kiss. “and i am yours, forever and always,” you whisper against his soft lips, your heart brimming with love and devotion for the ‘dracula’ who stole your heart since the day you met him.

with a soft smile, sylus gently carries you to the bathroom, cradling you in his arms like a precious princess before removing the fake vampire fangs that both of you wore—along with your high heels.

“let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” he sets you down on the edge of the massive shower, turning on the rain shower head and adjusting the temperature. the warm water begins to cascade down, creating a soothing mist around you. sylus steps in with you, pulling you close so you feel his body heat. he runs his fingers through your hair, the gentle touch calming you as the water washes over both of you.

“are you feeling sore, my love?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

“a-a little,” you admit, feeling shy, wincing a little as you shift. it’s true; the experience was intense, leaving you with a pleasant ache. “but it was worth it.”

he chuckles, clearly finding your response cute. “you are such a brave kitten,” he says, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “i admire your strength.”

the water glistens on your skin as he moves down to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your body. every touch sends small shivers through you, and although you feel sore, his movements are gentle and soothing.

after a few moments, he steps back and takes a look at you, his expression softening. “you are so beautiful,” he says, his voice filled with awe. you smile shyly, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you like a soft blanket.

as the shower continues to rain down, sylus pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. you rest your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. it feels safe and comforting.

sigh.

“i love moments like this,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “just you and me, away from the world.”

“me too,” you whisper back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite the lingering soreness.

he tilts your chin up gently so you meet his eyes. “i want to take care of you always,” he promises, his gaze serious but warm. “you are my everything.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth in your chest. “and you are mine,” you reply softly.

as the water continues to flow, he leans in and kisses your forehead gently, a sweet gesture that makes your heart flutter.

after a while, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in soft towels. as you step into sylus’s massive closet, the walls are lined with perfectly organized clothes, shoes, and accessories. the light from the elegant chandelier casts a warm glow, making everything feel cozy despite the opulence surrounding you.

“feel free to pick anything you like,” he says, his tone stoic but with a hint of playfulness as he watches you browse through the neatly arranged clothing. “though i doubt anything will fit you as well as my shirt.”

you chuckle, appreciating his teasing nature. “well, i’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, pulling out a few pieces, including a pair of his boxers. you can’t help but smile at how big they are compared to your small figure.

sylus raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “are you sure you can handle all that fabric? you might get lost in it,” he teases, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the closet door in a way that exudes both confidence and charm.

“i think i’ll manage,” you say playfully, deciding to slip into the oversized shirt first. as you pull it over your head, you feel the soft fabric drape over you, engulfing your body. it’s comically large, and you can’t help but laugh as it falls past your hips, almost like a dress.

“you look like you raided my wardrobe,” he quips, his voice smooth yet playful as he takes in the sight of you in his shirt. “a very cute burglar, i must say.”

“maybe i’m just here to steal your heart,” you say with a wink, feeling confident in your playful banter.

“clever, but i think you’ve already succeeded in that regard,” he replies, his gaze softening slightly, though he maintains a stoic facade. “now, let’s see what else you can find.”

you rummage through the boxers, holding up a pair that’s comically large. “do you think these will work?” you ask, smirking at him.

“they’ll definitely work. in fact, i might be a little jealous,” he says, feigning seriousness. “but i suppose i can let it slide this time.”

after a few more moments of playful teasing, you finally change into the boxers, feeling even more comfortable. you step back to face him, striking a playful pose. “how do i look now?”

“like you belong in my closet,” he responds, his voice steady yet playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “though i must say, you should have the decency to keep your eyes on me instead of my clothes.”

“and why is that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“because,” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “i’m the one who wants to see your pretty little face when you wear my clothes.”

you blush at his words, and despite the teasing, there’s something undeniably sincere in his gaze.

“now, how about we get back to that cozy spot in the living room?” he suggests, motioning toward the door.

with a smile, you nod, feeling a warm sense of connection as you both leave the lavish closet behind. sylus leads you to the living room, where he has prepared a little cozy setup with blankets and pillows. “i thought we could have a little halloween movie night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

you beam at him, feeling grateful for the thoughtful surprise. “that sounds perfect,” you reply, snuggling into the pile of blankets he made for you. sylus settles in beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

he picks out a classic horror movie, and as the opening credits roll, you can’t help but glance up at him. “are you scared?” you tease, noticing how he looks slightly more serious than usual.

“me? scared? never,” he replies with mock bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. “but i will protect you if it gets too intense.”

you laugh, feeling warm and safe next to him. the movie plays on, but every so often, you steal glances at sylus, admiring how comfortable and warm he feels against you. the tension from earlier has melted away, leaving only warmth and affection between the two of you. as the plot thickens and the jump scares come, you find yourself leaning closer to sylus, burying your face in his shoulder during the most suspenseful scenes. he chuckles softly, holding you tighter, his fingers brushing through your hair. “it’s just a movie,” he reminds you gently, but you can hear the playful note in his voice.

after a few movies, you both take a break, sitting in comfortable silence as you munch on halloween-themed snacks he prepared—pumpkin cookies and candy corn. “this is the best halloween ever,” you say, a content smile on your face.

“i agree,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “being with you makes everything better.”

as the night goes on, the atmosphere feels intimate and special. you feel a sense of closeness that only deepens with every laugh and shared moment. when the clock strikes midnight, sylus leans closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. it feels soft and gentle, filled with the warmth of the connection you both share.

“happy halloween, my love,” he whispers against your lips, a soft smile gracing his features.

“happy halloween, sylus. thank you for tonight,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the sweetness of the moment.

“i guess we really made this halloween unforgettable,” he adds, a teasing smirk on his lips.

you laugh lightly, nodding in agreement. “definitely unforgettable.”

with a soft laugh, he pulls you back into the warmth of his embrace. “here’s to many more halloweens together,” he says, his voice filled with promise as you both sink into the comfort of each other, knowing this night will be a cherished memory for years to come.

the end.

hi, thanks for reading all the way to the end! your support means so much to me. i hope you enjoyed this halloween oneshot! feel free to leave your thoughts or feedback; i’d love to hear from you! <3

[deadghosy]

Hear me out

What about a moth! reader

Like the moth from sky! Children of the light that likes to fly around the hotel and honk at people sense they can't speak

And them giving candles as a way to ask"do you wanna be friends??"

(this is my first time ever requesting something so sorry if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore this く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡)

……ANON MARRY ME RN CAUSE I USE TO PLAY THE HELL OUT OF THAT GAME!! RN MARRY ME

HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER

prompt: a cute moth character enters the ring of hell due to a malfunction of the realms

STORY MODE: you were celebrating days of love as your ikemen softly puts a flower crown on your head as you honk happily. You hugged the Ikemen as he hugs you back, lifting you for a hug spin as he chuckles lowly.

He lifted you on his back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pointed towards the valley realm as they wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary together. You started to spam honk excitedly as the Ikemen nods and runs into the realm. But something went wrong.

END OF STORY MODE: You just stand there as you smell blood and fire in the air. You were confused as you didn’t see your beloved Ikemen anywhere which made you honk out loud…you didn’t see their name either. You inhaled all the air you could and let out a big HONK! That got you the attention of a fellow moth man who smirked behind you. You jolted with a quick honk as Valentino poked your mask. “My my my~ what a cute little thing you are.” Valentino says picking you up like a child.

You didn’t want to die so immediately you pulled out your candle. That made Valentino drawn to the candle as he squeaks happily at the candle and take it. Before Valentino could talk to you, an arm grabbed you and sped away.

Who was the culprit who took you, it was Angel dust in his pink scooter. (A/n: don’t question the scooter) Angel heard that big ass honk and a light as he was curious and went to go look for it only to see you shaking in Valentino’s hold. He didn’t want to save you, but your small frame was shaking and he couldn’t stand it so he had to save you.

And now you are part of the hotel’s crew as they greet you with open arms.

Angel loves you dearly, you immediately warmed up to him giving him a bright white candle as his eyes shined at the light of the candle shaping like a heart. So when Angel took it and it dissolved in his hands. You were so happy you kept spam hugging him.

You literally follow all the members like a first time moth, holding out a candle as you want more friends!

Fat nuggets just oinks and follows you. You pet the cute demon pig who licks your hand back

CHARLIE LOVESSS YOUU😭💗 she picked you up and you honk hugging her back.

Vaggie admires you as well. You seem like a reliable person to bring hopes up.

Lucifer adores you..I mean you are just so affectionate. He immediately accepted the candle and he lifted you up. Kissing your head and gushing over you with tears yelling “I WANNA ADOPT THEM!”

I headcannon Charlie and Lucifer debating which color scheme suits you better as they try to take off your brown moth cape as you honk at them.

I always headcannon skykid moths to be at least like 4’9 and every time they gain winged light they get taller. 🦆✨but since you aren’t in the Sky cotl universe, you are so small so literally they treat you like a kid.

You know like your light decreases when a dark creature hits it or like basically darkness. (Especially during that damn fire trial😐) I can imagine moth! Reader having a night light that Lucifer made you with a duck light shining on the ceiling so you feel safe.

Husk doesn’t even understand what the fuck you are doing by honking at him and following him around constantly with a bright ass white candle.

Husk eventually accepted the candle which made you hug him alot..and oddly husk liked it. Now you gained a drunk uncle.

BIG HEADCANNON THAT VALENTINO WILL TRY TO ADOPT YOU, BUT ANGEL IS DEAD ASS SHAKING HIS HEAD NO AS THE OTHER CREW MEMBERS PROTECT YOU FROM THE GRASP OF THIS MOTH DEMON

As you kept getting adopted by random people, your ikemen was going around every season area asking other skykids have they seen you as he has a missing poster of you….poor Ikemen looks down seeing the flower bracelet you made him.

Back to you as you are making the whole crew paper bracelets thanks to Charlie’s trust exercises and activities.

I can see sir Pentious and you getting along to the point sir Pentious is like a caretaker when you don’t have anyone to be with. Even his egg boiz love to hang with you. Even if they don’t understand you.

You one time big honked and every light flickered since a ring of light was around you. So now the cast is little bit cautious at how “powerful” you are

Alastor would think you eat human/sinner meat as he would bring it to you, noting you don’t eat anything. 😭 DO YOU GUYS KNOW THAT GAGGING CAT?! THATS YOU WHEN YOU SMELT THE MEAT-

Alastor was so offended but he should’ve guessed that you weren’t a cannibal.

Niffty was teaching you how to clean and you accidentally drank bleach making niffty literally chase you around worried as you run.

You actually one time lost your light as you were crouched on the floor. Immediately Lucifer grabbed you up scared that you were dying as your body got out of the state and into your regular appearance.

Tbh Lucifer thought you was a scary demon crawling for your life, until you honked is when he realized it was his moth friend.

You fly around honking as you help razzle and dazzle with putting up banners. Razzle and dazzle pick you up if you don’t have enough energy to fly. You guys are flying buddies is what I headcannon.

I imagine husk is sleeping and you glide down from the stairs as you honk softly in his ear to wake him up. He grumbles at first so you decided to do a big honk. You inhaled as a ring of light surrounds the place as the honk rings out in the hotel.

“GAH!” Husk yells falling off the couch grabbing you as he thought you were trouble to only find out there wasn’t no problems. He grumbles angrily at you.

You once flew down like Batman and Angel recorded it founding it adorable.

Charlie had noticed you like to collect candles so she bought a stack of candles which made your eye light up and immediately run to your room with them.

Your mask definitely falls off your face, so imagine the whole hotel’s cast reaction to your face just being completely black with eyelashes (bruh skykid’s eyelashes are so damn pretty and long 😭)

When you went with Charlie to meet with the angels, Adam raised a brow at you because he never seen a “demon” like you. But he didn’t feel any angelic or demonic energy off you.

“What’s up lil dude…where’s your mama?” Adam says teasing you as he pats your head while Charlie watching nervously. You just honk at him and pull out a big white candle. Lute and Adam glanced at each other as Adam took it. The candle dissolved into a circle as Adam felt warm. You honk happily and hugged him.

“So can I keep this little shit?” Adam says to Charlie. “WHAT NO?!-”

I headcannon you once did the backflip emote and they all applaud you like “oh wow!”

Alastor and Lucifer are the smart ones to try to get you to call them dad…but you just honk and hug them like a little child happy to see them.

Of course Valentino is blowing Angel’s phone asking him if he seen a moth like demon….

Lucifer made you a duck cape. Like the cape was heaven sky blue with duck patterns in it. He found it so cuteee! 🦆💗

You honked madly at fat nuggets as the pig had eaten up your brown cape making angel dust make you a pink cape. It was bedazzled and it didn’t look like the sakura or valley cape you see other skykids wore once

[deathbxnny]

May I request a HSR men (Boothill, Adventurine, Sunday, Gallagher, Dan Heng more or less if you want) with a reader who is a certified napper? She’s always so sleepy and will be grumpy if she doesn’t get at least one nap in. Their favorite place to sleep is on them wether it be their shoulder, chest, lap, etc. And they have a special nap hoodie they stole borrowed from their bf because their scent helps them sleep? No worries if it’s too much

Hey there, Anon!! Since I have a limit of 3 characters, I decided to choose Gallagher, Boothill, and Sunday for this one! Hope you like this, and thank you for the request!<33

Content: romantic relationship, naps, just fluff really, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher loves taking naps with you and often invites you to hang out with him in the bar during his breaks for a relaxing cuddle session. He'll practically drape you over his chest like a blanket, whilst he leans back in one of the soft cushion couches with a drink in hand. If heaven exists, then it must've been moments like those with you.

He doesn't even mind that you sleep alot and even encourages it as long as you stay in his line of sight. He'd let you take a shirt of his to wear as well whilst you sleep, something about you wearing his clothes whilst you do so warming his heart. It makes him happy to know that he makes you feel so safe and peaceful even subconsciously.

》SUNDAY

He is concerned by the amount of time you spend sleeping at first and wonders if it may be a sickness of some sort. But after you're cleared by a visit to a doctor, one he definitely forced you to go to, he decided that it may just be a part of your personality and decided to leave it at that. Sunday doesn't mind joining you whenever he has time for it, even if he never falls asleep himself. He's just too worried about your safety to do so.

He'll make sure your bed and room in general are as comfortable as possible for you. The man will let you borrow some of his clothes whenever he's away for business, especially if it keeps you in a good mood and happy. He may not understand your need for so much sleep, but as long as your safe, then that's all that matters to him.

》BOOTHILL

Boothill used to get a little annoyed for a while whenever you just napped all day instead of hanging out with him or completing work. It often ended in small arguments caused by him trying to wake you up whilst you whined for 5 more minutes... for the 50th time. So eventually, he just decided to accept your sleepiness and learn to adapt to it by resting with you. He can't necessarily sleep, but he'll let you cuddle up to him as much as you want.

With that said, if you want to wear his cape or steal his hat for a nap, he'll oblige gladly. He finds it cute to see you hold onto his clothes whilst you sleep.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could you do more cave boy Danny please? I really wanna see what you have in mind for the direction you want the prompt to take 👻

The first thing that registers for Danny is the flouting feeling that he often relates to flying. To him, it always felt like being in the water, perfectly balanced with his arms and legs spread out, letting himself be weightless and left up instead of fighting gravity.

He allows himself to be taken by the sensation. It's not often he can fly just for enjoyment, especially in recent months. The Waynes were far too observant.

It is only when he tries to move into a more comfortable position that he notices the restraint.

Unlike in the water, he does not move slightly up and down with waves so he knows he's not flying in his ghost form. There is nothing that ever hinders him, even if slightly.

This is a different sense of flying.

It's caused by medication.

Danny's eyes snap open, fearing men in white suits, and instead gets a teenager in black and red-leaning his head into his hands. There are no restraints or a containment pod, instead, there are soft warm blankets and a large bed.

There are beeps from machines and a tube inside his arm, tapped to the top of his elbow. He's not sure what is in it but he hopes it to help with his pain and not to....see what his DNA is made of or something.

Thoughts are....hard right now. Like trying to grasp sand but it only slips through his fingers. He is aware but not. Did someone steal his brain? He is usually a much better thinker.

"Brucie!" The red and black teenager grasps, throwing his head up. Danny squints at him, wondering if his black wings are alright. They didn't explain or even react to his movement.

Danny should contact Frostbite. His Yeti can fix up those right up.

"It's a cape" The other laughs but his voice is soft with sadness. Danny squints at him trying to pinpoint why he would be so sad. It might be because he hasn't shifted into a butterfly yet.

"I'm not a butterfly." The other laughs a little more amused.

Danny's eyes widened. Was the teenager a mind reader? That's a scary thought. What if he learned all of Danny's secrets?

"Brucie....who's Danny?"

Nah, Danny wasn't risking it. He was going back to sleep. He had to escape into his dreams that way they would be just as confused by them as he was. He chuckles to himself, knowing that they won't know what to do against the giant green dog that guarded his dreams.

"Goodnight Brucie. Enjoy your green dog"

________________________________________________

Hours later Danny wakes up again but this time he is much more lucid. He glances around the room, eyes flickering over the machine and wires attached to him with little care.

He can recognize the room the Waynes gave him with ease. Everything from the posters he had put up in an attempt to look like an average teenager- even if he did only put up posters of Batman and his crew- to the random nick-nacks he left behind in his escape.

It was a bit bare from when he took everything but it's still the room he called home for a while.

How in the world did he get back to Wayne Manor?

Danny needs to get out now.

Standing up on uneasy legs, he rips out the wires as fast as he can, uncaring of the loud alarms that ring the moment he does. He rushes for the door, vision blurry, having to force all of his will into getting one step and then another.

Danny is forced to take small pauses every now and then because his body simply can't handle moving too fast. His legs shake from the effort it takes to keep him up right but he pushes through anyway.

It's only when he manages to get to the door that he remembers his powers. Danny flexes his abs into a clench that he had come to associate with activating his powers. For a brief second, twin rings of light appear, but they only move z few centimeters before flickering out of sight.

It feels like all his energy fades with with.

Panting, he slides to the floor, his limbs feeling like lead and his head swimming with fog. His head falls to the side slightly, but he can see that the door is right in front of him.

Danny tries to reach for it but all that does is cause him to tumble over. There is a dull ache on his chin and chest, as he lays there on the ground breathing heavily, and small black dots start to appear in his vision.

He is likely going to pass out soon from his core's backlash. Danny can't afford that. Not until he's safely away from the Manor and back in his cave.

How in the world did he even get out of his cave? How did he end up here?

All questions he'll have to answer later.

Planting his forearms before himself and pushing one leg slightly to the side, Danny lifts himself up. He lets his legs relax, making sure they don't drag behind him, as he shifts one arm forward and then another, crawling towards the door in the army crawl his mom should him.

He makes it to the door in what feels like hours but is probably seconds. His hands reach upward to launch onto the door handle with all his strength. to heave it open.

There is a moment of pure unadulterated joy that he was able to get this far when Danny encounters a slight problem. There is a force field right inside the doorway.

He figures this out when he slams into an invisible wall. A startled yelp is ripped from his throat as he stumbles back, blinking owlishly at the flickering force field light that gleams and ripples mockingly at him.

For half a second, he thinks that one of his siblings had pranked him by putting up plastic wrap to have him walk into it.

Except for the man in a brown trench coat who is staring down at him with an open mouth.

"Brucie!" Bruce shouts pushing the stranger out of the way to kneel down. "What happened?"

"He activated my wares to keep out spirits....or in this case keep them in?" Trench coat is staring at Danny with a strange expression. It seems like a cross between intrigued and weary. "What are you?"

"I already told you, this is my counterpart from a different universe," Bruce says helping Danny into a sitting position. "We confirmed it the first night he was here. Both DNA and our multi-universal tests came back positive."

"Batty, I highly doubt you have the technology to test for dimension travelers-"

"I do. I used it on every Flash I have ever come across, every time I see them."

"......I know I call you batty but honestly Batty that's alarming."

Danny's eyes flicker between them before he activates his intangibility. It's an ability that doesn't require his full form, however just as he's starting to slip through Bruce's fingers his legs slam against a similar field just a few inches from the floor.

His knees pop loudly and Danny screeches.

"Brucie!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that. My wards are all around us. I put them up after finding your cave drenched in otherworld energy. Figured I was protecting you not capturing you."

Danny's yanks his legs up, trying to crawl away from the man. Bruce throws an arm in front of him and Danny foolishly presses himself into the older man's back, trying to shield away from the very alarmingly competent Ghost Hunter.

"You leave him alone. He is not a threat. He is just a civilian boy who happens to be a meta" Bruce's voice is low and dangerous. Danny has never heard him speak like that, even while dressed as Batman.

"Batty, whatever that is, it is certainly not a civilian let alone a boy. The amount of will it took just to keep my wards up by him hitting against them by accident is nothing to sneeze at." Trench Coat insists, pulling out a stone with a strange marking on it. Danny squints at the symbols and then gasps when he recognizes them.

ᛙᛁ⸜⸍ˎ⸜ᛍ╵╮ˎ◟ᛍ╵

It's Fenton Works spelled out in runes, medieval runes to be exact. Danny knows because Jazz and he had a bonding phase where they translated the family name and business. They would carve the symbols into hundreds of wood plates, to bond with their aunt.

"Yeah, even the Witch Boy flinched at this seal." The man smirks, holding out the plat as if he were warding off a spirit. Danny cowers more behind Bruce."You have no idea what I had to trade to get this"

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim's voice cuts through the tension. He is standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face dark. Behind him are the rest of the Waynes. None of them are looking friendly.

"Constantine." Bruce growls. "You are on thin ice. Backdown. Now".

"Not to be disrespectful Batty, but that thing is-"

"His name is Bruce Wayne, You will do well to remember it. " Damian cuts in. The blond man holding- his own carving?- tilts his head.

"But that's not your name is it?" He asks Danny, who swallows. He presses closer to Bruce and watches the Waynes slowly circle Constantine. It's obvious they are about to jump him and Danny-

Danny realized that he may have tried to run but that obviously wasn't going to work. He couldn't hide either, because they found him.

He needed to come clean.

"Wait." He says, his voice stilling the room in a way that only those with complete control. He scoots to the right leaving Bruce's protection. "Wait. He's right. I'm not Bruce Wayne. My name is Danny Fenton. I've been lying to you all. I'm sorry."

"Fenton?" Constantine repeats confused but he doesn't get to continue because Bruce pulls him back behind him.

"You aren't lying. We knew you had a different name, you're still my counterpart."

What.

"Yeah Danny, we kind of knew from day one that you were a version of Bruce even if it was under a different name" Dick laughs. "You told Tim your real name a few days ago as well as your universe coordinates. We already confirmed its location and Tim is working on a ship for you."

What

"We knew. You Bruce." Cass says looking right at Danny. "We since the day we found you."

That's....not right at all.

"No. I'm Danny Fenton. I'm not a version of Bruce. I can prove it!" He shouts, throwing his hand on Bruce's back. He makes his core glow, knowing no two people could ever have the same one unless they are variants of timelines.

That's why Dani's core won't glow with him but Dan will.

Constantine nods his head "A core glow test. That will prove that you aren't Bruce and are something that's pretending to be him. Claiming to be part of the King's family is also a bold claim."

"Look ma I never claim to be part of some King's family I only-"

Twin blue and green glows burst from Danny's and Bruce's chest and Danny's words die on his tongue. Constantine drops his hand in shock.

"See? You are Brucie!" Dick laughs as if he hadn't just shattered Danny's entire world viewpoint. He could only gape at the group of people before Bruce placed a hand on his head.

"I'm sorry. If I had known you knew where your world was located we would have gotten you home to your parents weeks ago. You must have been so scared. Don't worry. We'll have you home soon."

Again and with great feeling, he will say what!?

[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

[spxllcxstxr]

Vermax • J.V

(Gif not mine)

Request: jacaerys falling in love with a servant girl and taking her for a ride on vermax. -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: Jacaerys takes a servant girl to see Vermax

Warnings: fem!reader (referred to as girl at some points), servant x prince forbidden romance, dragon stuff, lowkey abrupt ending but oh well

Word Count: 1.2k

A.N: need more smiling jace but DAMN he was fine in this scene, first jace piece, hope it's ok! This wasn’t supposed to be over 1k words lmao

•

The dark corridors of Dragonstone castle twist and turn as Prince Jacaerys pulls you through them. His grip on your wrist is light as it pushes up the sleeve of your red servant’s dress.

The only sounds surrounding the two of you were your steps across the stone floors and both of your panting breaths.

In mere minutes the cool air of Dragonstone hits you as does the grass slick with fresh dew. Any guards near the entrances are cloaked in the darkness.

"Jacaerys," You hiss, careful not to draw any attention to you. "Where are you taking me?"

"Calm yourself, (Y/n), I am only taking you to see Vermax." Jace responds, his pace slowing as he approaches a patch of grass where his dragon frequently can be found.

"Are you feeding me to your dragon, Jace? Is this what this is?"

He snorts at your question. "Not today."

You giggle as Vermax is appears within your vision.

The moonlight shimmers on Vermax's olive green scales. The dragon mesmerizes you, even when stationary. You can't even fathom the fact that Vermax is on the smaller side of the Targaryen dragons.

Jacearys turns to you, the flowing red cape attached to the rest of his riding gear rustles behind him. Your eyes flick to the Prince.

"Do you trust me?" The Prince asks, his gentle brown eyes staring into your own. His thumb rests on your cheekbone. The leather riding gloves obstructs the warm feeling you have come to associate with the Prince. It's comforting nonetheless.

You heart hammers in your chest. Even his lightest of touches always leaves you dazed, but with the addition of a dragon just over his shoulder contributes to your nerves.

"Of course, Jacaerys," You breathe, wiping your sweaty palms against the rough fabric of your dress. The tall grass tickles your ankles.

He hums, lightly pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do not be afraid, sweet girl, Vermax will do you no harm."

"Are you sure about this, Jace? We could get in trouble--"

"Nonsense, who here would fathom taking issue with the Prince?" Jacearys smirks, making your cheeks burn.

In the moonlight he takes your breath away. Pale skin littered with freckles, the desire to kiss every single one almost taking over.

You follow him as he strides over to his dragon, murmuring in High Valarian. His hands rest atop the dragon's snout.

He whispers to his dragon, gesturing to you to come closer. With your hand trembling slightly, you lightly place it on the dragon's scales, which are hot to the touch.

It takes a bit of maneuvering paired with Jace's help for you to get up on Vermax's saddle--you had barely ridden a horse much less a dragon.

"Might want to hold on tight, (Y/n)." Jacaerys whispers in your ear as he settles behind you. "Vermax is pretty quick."

He shouts a few phrases in High Valyrian and the dragon roars to life, large wings starting to move. As you rise through the air, you can't help but to scream your lungs out.

Higher above the trees, mingling between the clouds, a sense of adrenaline makes you dizzy.

How could anyone get used to this?

You holler and laugh as the wind quickly whips all around you. Your fingers tingle and your heart pound in your chest.

Jacaerys has Vermax climbing high up in the sky before dropping close to the ocean, twisting as you go down.

Eventually, with morning quickly approaching, Vermax coasts just below the clouds, heading towards Dragonstone, which is just a small island in the distance.

Dawn creeps over the horizon, the orange and yellow hues of the early light blending with the sea surrounding you. Your skin bathes in the light. The open sea and sky glitters in your vision. Closing your eyes you deeply inhale, the fresh air filling your lungs. You can feel his eyes watching you intensely. Jace's arms tighten around your waist as he guides Vermax to dive closer to land.

You don't open your eyes until you land and Vermax stops shifting on their feet. Slowly, and with guidance from the Prince, you dismount from the dragon, gently patting their scales once more before taking a few steps back.

“Thank you, Jace,” Your lips gently press against his cheek, red from the wind. "That was..." You search for the words that could possibly describe the experience you just had. "Amazing."

The dawn light highlights the flecks of gold in his eyes and you're unable to look away. His lips tilt up in a smile.

"Oh my sweet girl...I would do anything for you. Showing you all this," He gestures to Vermax's retreating figure in the sky. "It is because I love you."

You take a step back, breath catching in your throat. While the two of you had been sneaking around with each other and kissing in the dark corners of the castle, he had never told you he loved you before. You never thought he could love someone like you. "Jacaerys, I am a mere servant girl, you cannot--"

"I can, (Y/n)." He takes your hands in his, pulling you closer to his body. He smells of dragon and fire. "When my mother is sat on the Iron Throne it will not matter if my heart chooses to be with a serving girl or a lady at court." He squeezes your hands in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You bite your bottom lip, mind and heart racing with swarming thoughts and emotions.

"Do you--do you not love me back?" Jace's dark brows crease with worry.

"Do not be a fool, Jacaerys!" You respond, meeting his eyes. "I have loved you since I met you! But what of Baela? Of politics? You cannot just piss that all away for someone like me!"

"I do not care, (Y/n), please just listen to me!" He moves his hands to frame your face, one of each cheek. They're delicate on your skin. "We will deal with it when we get there, but please let us love each other now before we have to concern ourselves with all of that." Jace's eyes are wide, pleading with you to just say yes.

And how could you resist? You had loved him since you were both children running up and down the stone steps of the castle, him avoiding his duties as a Prince and you avoiding your duties as a servant.

Without saying anything, you surge forward to capture his soft lips in your own. Your own hands move to his neck, stroking the skin there. The two of you had kissed before, many times, in fact, but it was never like this. This was more special in a way you couldn't wrap your head around. It was slow and passionate, like Jacearys was trying to convey to you how much he truly loved you. You try your best to return the sentiment.

Breathlessly, you reluctantly pull away. Your eyes flutter as they meet his own. "Gods, Jacaerys, of course I love you back."

•

[jetii]

To the General

Pairing: Howzer x fem!Reader / Howzer x Jedi!Reader

Words: 14,310

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, some blood/gore, depression, hallucinations, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), some light dom/sub dynamics, a little cockwarming

Summary: It's been over a year since Howzer has lost his General, and yet, the ghost of your memory still haunts him. His guilt and grief threaten to swallow him whole, until Rex returns to the base with a surprise visitor.

A/N: Reposting because I forgot my taglist. 🤦‍♀️ No excuse for the word count I fear. I just love Jedi/Clone forbidden love with all my heart, and I love writing dramatic reunions even more.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened. 

Their arrival on Ryloth had come on the heels of an overdrawn battle on Bothawui. The entire battalion was teetering on the edge of exhaustion by the time they had boarded The Eclipse. Their hopes of an extended shore leave were quickly dashed as it was announced by order of the Jedi Council and the Chancellor himself that they would be sent to occupy Ryloth indefinitely.

The General had tried to make the most of it. She’d arranged for the mess to cook the finest meal they could get their hands on, which admittedly wasn’t more than some fresh meats and root vegetables, but the crew didn't complain. And if Howzer caught the smell of alcohol floating about when they walked to their stations, he didn't say anything about it.

Still, no amount of finery or good cheer could hide the truth: the crew was worn ragged and the battalion was ready to snap. The men resolved to keep pushing on for the sake of their General, who had taken their heavy losses the hardest. That night, she’d broken into tears over the new helmets lining their memorial wall, a wall that was nearly full.

Howzer had been with her, had stood with her and her tears. He had seen the General in every state of grief, of anger and pain. He'd also seen her at her very best. He'd seen her bright smile and heard her warm laugh. He'd been there for the moments of victory and the moments of defeat.

She was his General and his closest friend, his guiding star, and he would do anything for her.

Howzer doesn’t remember how it happened, but he does remember her. He remembers everything about her.

His first memory is her as a young commander, and the first time he saw her. It was on Kamino, and the first time she had visited. She'd been there with her Master, who had come to assess the cadets' progress. They had all lined up in neat rows for the inspection. Howzer remembers how tall she had looked in her uniform and cape despite how all the men towered over her.

Howzer can't remember what she said or did. But he can recall her eyes and the warmth in them as she walked past them. He had wanted her to look at him.

His second memory is the first time they met, months later. It was shortly after the start of the war, and the 318th was still in its infancy. The General had just arrived to pick her new battalion up, and as her new Captain, Howzer was part of the honor guard.

Howzer doesn’t remember the words they spoke, only that she was kind and her voice was warm, and when she smiled, the whole world seemed to brighten.

In the years that followed, he got to know her and became her aide. They were together almost every day. They spent time with their men and led them through the horrors of war. She was a natural leader, charismatic and inspiring, and it wasn't long before Howzer was completely devoted to her.

But the war continued, and so did the death. They had lost men and friends, and Howzer had to watch the General suffer each time. Her pain was his. How could it not be?

She was the best thing in his life, his bright light in the darkness, and he was in love with her.

Howzer doesn’t remember when he began thinking of her that way. He thinks he might’ve always loved her, always wanted her. Maybe from the moment he saw her in that corridor.

All he knew is that he'd loved her in every possible way a man could love a woman, just as he knew that his love would never be reciprocated.

But it didn't matter.

As long as he was with her, Howzer would pretend, and he was okay with that. He could live with loving her from afar and keeping his feelings in check. As her Captain, his job was to support her, and he would be the best damn Captain she'd ever had.

He could dream of a different reality where she returned his feelings, one where they were not at war, and maybe one where he was not her clone trooper. He would dream of a life where he could hold her and touch her, where he could kiss her and whisper how much he loved her.

But those were dreams, and nothing more.

And reality was very different now.

Now, the General is nothing more than a memory.

It’s been long enough that pieces of her are starting to fade from his mind, and he hates it. He wants to hang on to her as long as possible, but he knows that his memories are all he has left. He doesn’t have a holo or picture of her. He only has the images in his mind and the broken piece of nova crystal he kept tucked away in his pocket.

Howzer doesn't remember how it happened.

But he knows it’s his fault.

Howzer is the one who let her down. He's the reason she died. He must be, even if he can't remember it, because he can't accept any other reality. He was her Captain and her right-hand man, her closest friend and her most devoted soldier. If she died, it was because he had failed her, and he will never forgive himself for it.

Maybe he deserves to forget.

That thought is worse than the one of her death.

There was a time when he had wondered if his love was a sickness, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. He didn't want his brothers to know and judge him, and he didn't want her to know, either. He'd never acted on his desires. He'd never told her, and maybe that's why this is so much worse.

Maybe this is a punishment, and one he deserves.

He knows he must have done something wrong, something terrible, because no man would be this cursed unless they deserved it. The nightmares, the guilt, the emptiness, it had to be some kind of retribution for his transgressions.

He's tried to forget. He's tried to move on. He's tried to be a better man, a better clone. He's tried to do everything that a good soldier should, but no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, his mind always drifts back to her. His thoughts always wander to his memories. He can't shake her. He doesn't know how to. He's never known how.

Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees her. She's the same as the last time he saw her, with her armor and her hair up in its braid, and she is beautiful. Howzer is so happy to see her again, so relieved that she's not gone.

But she is, and he has to tell her.

He tries, but the words don't come out right. Or maybe it's just that he can't say them, that he still doesn't want to accept what had happened after all this time. But the words are stuck in his throat, and his eyes burn, and Howzer knows she's waiting for him to answer her.

And he can't.

She's waiting for him, and he can't.

She deserves to know the truth. She needs to know that she died, that he failed her, and that her death is on his hands.

Howzer can't look at her. He can't face her.

He closes his eyes and waits for her to turn away. He waits for her to leave him, because he doesn't deserve her.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she steps forward and takes his hands into hers. He flinches at her touch, because she shouldn’t be here. She isn't real. She's just another figment of his imagination, his punishment, and he wants her to stop. He can't do this anymore.

"Howzer," she says. "Howzer, look at me."

And he does. He can't help himself. Her face is starting to blur in his memory, he can't remember the exact shade of her eyes, and he doesn't want to forget. Not yet. He opens his eyes and looks at her, but he knows what he'll find.

Blood.

Her blood.

On his hands, on his face, on his chestplate.

There's so much of it, and he can't stop staring at it, at the way it coats her armor and drips onto the floor. He can't look away. He can't do anything.

"Look at me, Howzer," she says again.

But he can't. He can't do it.

He can't look at her, not like this. He can't stand the thought of seeing her face covered in blood, her lifeless eyes staring at him, her body cold and broken and gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers. "It's all my fault."

"No," she says.

She doesn't say anything else, and Howzer wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants her to yell at him and berate him, to curse him and hate him. But when he finally gains the courage to look her in the eye, there's nothing there. She's gone.

It's the worst thing he could've imagined.

He's alone.

Last night’s nightmare plays over and over again in his mind as he stands at the holotable, looking over the map and trying not to think of the General.

It's hard. It's always been hard, but it's gotten worse over the last few months. The dreams are more frequent, and the pain is more intense. He doesn't know how to stop them, or if they will ever stop.

He thought it would get better when he joined Rex's group, that he would find some semblance of peace with the other clones fighting the good fight, but he was wrong.

There is no peace for him, not after what he did.

The others are talking around him, but Howzer is only half listening. It's the usual stuff: what their next move will be, how many supplies they have, and the list goes on. Rex is expected to return from a meeting with Senator Chuchi any minute, and this meeting is more about making sure the captain is updated on what he missed.

But the details escape Howzer. He's distracted by his thoughts, and his guilt is eating at him. It's all he can think about, and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here.

"Howzer."

The sound of his name brings him back to reality, and he realizes everyone is looking at him.

"Uh, sorry," he says. "What was the question?"

Echo studies him. His gaze is intense, and Howzer has the distinct impression that he's being read. It's a disconcerting feeling, one that he's felt more than a few times in the last couple months since his rescue, and it makes him feel transparent. Like his armor is gone and his emotions are on display.

But that can't be the case, because Howzer hasn't told him what happened.

No one knows the truth, not even the men. Howzer hasn't told anyone about his part in his General's death, and he's not planning to either. There's no point in dredging up the past. He knows he’s not the only clone with guilt about what happened to the Jedi, what they had done.

He’s just the only one who can’t seem to let it go.

"I asked if you were alright," Echo says. "You've seemed a little off the last few days.”

Howzer nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. "Just a little tired."

The lie slips off his tongue easily, and it's one he's told more than a few times before. He's not fine, and he hasn't been since that day, but there's no need to burden his brothers with his problems.

Echo doesn't look convinced, and he's about to open his mouth to ask another question when Rex finally arrives. The captain's entrance is followed by a chorus of greetings and welcomes, and the tension in the room dissipates. The men are happy to see him, and Howzer is thankful for the distraction.

The Captain greets the men, and then he turns to Howzer.

"Howzer," Rex says. "Do you mind if I speak to you privately?"

"Of course not, Captain," Howzer answers.

Rex leads Howzer out of the command center and down the corridor. The walk is silent, and Howzer can feel the tension building between them. Rex hasn't said a word, and he has no idea why he wants to talk to him. Maybe it's about his recent performance, or lack thereof. He hasn't been the most reliable or helpful lately.

Howzer is starting to worry in earnest when they turn, moving away from the section of the compound that holds Rex's makeshift office and toward the doors leading out to the landing zone. Walking slightly in front of him, Rex is tense, his shoulders stiff and his jaw set. Whatever he has to say, it must be serious.

Rex finally stops in front of the closed blast doors and turns to Howzer. His expression is neutral, and it's impossible to tell what's going on in his head.

"Rex," Howzer begins, unable to bear the silence any longer, "if this is about my work, I understand. I haven't been on top of things the last few days, and if you need to put someone else on comms, I—"

Rex puts his hand up.

"That's not why I asked you out here, Howzer," Rex says. "There's someone here you need to see."

Howzer raises an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't understand," he says. "Who's here?"

"Just follow me."

Rex punches in a code, and the doors slide open. The light from outside fills the hallway, and Howzer blinks at the sudden brightness. He steps out into the landing zone, following Rex into the sunlight. The air is warm and dry, and he can already feel the heat radiating from the cracked duracrete beneath his boots.

"What are we doing out here, Rex?" he asks.

Rex doesn't answer, just keeps walking across the landing zone toward the ship. The Remora stands alone on the platform, ramp already drawn. Howzer squints in an effort to see inside the darkness of the vessel, looking for a spot of white plastoid among the shadows.

But what steps forward isn’t a clone at all.

Howzer recognizes you instantly, and he suddenly feels like he’s about to faint.

His vision tunnels, and the world tilts on its axis. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath is coming too fast, too hard. There's a roaring sound, like the sound of a rushing river, and it drowns out everything else. He feels sick, and his legs are shaking.

It can't be real. It can't be.

But it is.

There’s a loud clang, and he dimly realizes his helmet has fallen from his hands. It's lying on the ground now, at his feet, but he can't seem to find the strength to pick it up. All he can do is stare.

You descend the ramp slowly and place a hesitant foot onto the ground. The corners of your lips curl into an uncertain smile, while Howzer remains frozen, trapped in disbelief.

You take a step forward, and he still doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot, his heart racing, and he's afraid.

Howzer knows he's hallucinating. He's been here before. This isn't the first time you've appeared to him, not the first time you've looked at him with those warm eyes and called his name. But every time he reaches out, the mirage vanishes. He's tried. He's tried so hard to reach you.

He knows he's going to wake up, and you will be gone again.

It doesn't stop him from wanting to believe that it's real. That you're here.

Your smile falters when you notice his helmet on the ground, and Howzer watches your eyes search his. They're the same as they've always been, bright and kind, and full of concern. It's too much. It's always been too much.

"Howzer," you say. "Are you okay?"

"No," he says.

You step closer, and Howzer instinctively backs away. You stop. Your brows furrow, and your eyes fill with hurt, and it makes his stomach twist. He wants to go to you, to pull you close and hold you, but he doesn't. He can't.

This isn't real. None of it is real.

He has to tell you.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" you ask.

You're still walking toward him, and Howzer has to force himself not to run. He has to stop this before it goes any further. He can't let himself fall prey to his delusions, not again.

"No, it's not real," he says.

You frown. "What's not real?"

"You," he whispers. "You're not real. None of this is."

You stop, your eyes wide and worried. "Howzer, what are you talking about?"

He ignores you. He has to make you understand.

"You're dead," he says. His voice breaks on the last word, and it comes out as a choked sob.

The words hang between the two of you, and Howzer braces himself for the inevitable. He knows what will happen. You'll disappear. He's seen it happen enough times, and he can't bear to go through it again.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus, to steady his breathing and keep the tears at bay.

But when he opens his eyes, you're still there.

And then the impossible happens.

You move forward, and he doesn't stop you. He doesn't flinch or back away when you reach out and put your hands on his shoulders. He can't.

Your touch is solid. Real.

You're real.

His legs give way, forcing him to collapse heavily onto his knees. He can't bear the weight anymore. The grief, the guilt, the shame. It's too much.

“I failed you, General,” he says around the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. Howzer squeezes his burning eyes shut, willing the tears away, but they come regardless. He feels his body tremble, his shoulders shaking as he fights against the sob rising in his chest. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs won't cooperate, and all he manages is a choked gasp. 

“I…I’m so sorry.”

"Howzer, Howzer, please look at me."

It's not a request.

Your voice is commanding, the way he remembers, and it's enough to coax him into opening his eyes. Looking at you directly is almost too painful to bear, like looking directly at Ryloth’s sun, but he does.

Tears are streaming down your face, but a gentle smile still curves your lips. The hand on his shoulder moves to cup his face, thumb tracing the marred skin of his cheek. Unbidden, the memory of you holding him when he received the wound years ago comes to mind. Howzer hadn't seen it then, but the affection is clear now.

"It's okay," you say, softly.

"It's not," he replies. "I shouldn't have let you go."

Your hand moves to his jaw, and you gently tilt his chin upwards. He wants to lean into the touch, to bask in the warmth of your skin, but he can't. He doesn't deserve this. Not after what he did.

"I should've known. I should've—"

"Stop," you cut him off.

Your voice is firm, but the hand on his jaw is soft and gentle, and your eyes are still kind. He wants so badly to believe that this is real, that you're really here, but the doubts linger. He can't let himself fall into the illusion. He can't let himself lose you again.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Howzer. It wasn't your fault."

"I failed you."

"No, Howzer," you say. "You didn't."

He doesn't know what to say. Your hand is still on his face. Your fingers are trembling.

“I forgive you," you whisper the words softly, and it's more than he deserves. "I forgave you long ago."

It's too much.

His composure breaks, and he wraps his arms around your hips, burying his face in your stomach. His tears are hot and wet, and they soak through the fabric of your shirt. His sobs are loud and broken, and he can barely breathe, but he can't stop, and you don't push him away. The hand on his cheek cups the back of his head, and your other arm wraps around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers.

He isn't sure if you hear him. He's not sure if he wants you to. But you must, because your grip tightens, and your hand runs through his hair.

He holds you, clinging to you like a lifeline, and lets the tears flow. He can't hold back the sobs, the pain, the anger. All of the emotions are coming to the surface, and they won't be held back any longer.

He cries for you, for the pain you endured. For the loss and the hurt. He cries for himself, for the guilt and the shame. He cries because it hurts, and because he's relieved, and because he can't believe this is real and he's so kriffing happy to see you again.

When his tears finally stop, you're still there, still holding him, and he's still kneeling in front of you. His shoulders are stiff, his muscles sore, but he can't find the strength to move.

He doesn't want to.

He wants to stay like this forever.

Eventually, you break the silence.

“Is there somewhere we can go to speak in private?” you ask quietly. Your fingers run through the buzzed hair at the back of his head and linger on the scar there, the one he doesn’t have a story for. A shiver runs down his spine before his brain catches up to your question.

Howzer nods and clears his throat.

"Yeah," he says, his voice hoarse. "My room. We can talk there."

You help him stand, and he takes a moment to collect himself, wiping his eyes. When he looks at you again, he feels a hot sting of embarrassment. It's been a long time since he's let himself fall apart like this, and he's not sure how to act, and he's grateful there's no one else around to witness it.

You don't seem bothered by his breakdown. You smile, and it's soft and warm, and his heart does a strange flip.

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your concern is so genuine that it almost brings fresh tears to his eyes. His emotions feel raw, like an open wound, and he's not sure how much more he can take before he's completely overwhelmed, but when he answers this time, he speaks the truth.

"I will be," he says as he kneels to collect his helmet.

You nod, and there's a hint of relief in your eyes, but the smile on your face never wavers as you step up to his side. He’s surprised to feel your hand threading through the crook of his elbow before he realizes it was he who had held out his arm for you. A force of habit he didn't know he still had, but one that was very welcome.

It had always been your way, before. To walk beside him instead of ahead.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

"Shall we?"

"Yes," you say, smiling.

As the two of you begin to make your way across the landing zone, Howzer can't help but marvel at how natural this feels. The familiarity of your presence at his side, the soft pressure of your hand against his arm, and the sound of your breathing.

All of it feels so right, and Howzer thinks it must be a dream, a hallucination, something, because this is too perfect. It can't be real. It's been far too long for it to be real.

But the weight of your arm on his and the sound of your footsteps at his side feel real, more real than anything he's ever experienced. He's never had a hallucination this vivid before. He hopes it's not just a dream, but he keeps his eyes on you just to make sure.

You look different. Older, maybe. But also more beautiful.

It's a silly thought, but it's the truth. There's a certain peace and calmness to your expression, and it suits you. You look content, like you've finally found what you were looking for, and Howzer feels a rush of joy.

You're alive.

He still can't quite believe it, and he finds himself staring openly at you. He knows the path to his room like the back of his hand, and he could probably make the trek with his eyes closed. But he doesn't.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on you, memorizing every detail, every curve of your face and every twitch of your mouth. He's desperate to fill in the gaps in his memory, the details he's lost and the moments that slipped away. He doesn't want to forget again.

Your head is on a swivel as you take in the equipment and clones bustling around the enclosed space inside the temple. It reminds him of your first day, and he can't help but smile. You haven't changed at all.

Echo and Rex are in the command center along with a handful of other clones. They watch as the two of you walk through, their faces showing a range of expressions from surprise to confusion to suspicion. But they say nothing, and Howzer is grateful. He knows how he looks, with his reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks. They’ll no doubt have questions later, but for now, they keep them to themselves.

“What you’ve built here is impressive,” you say as you give a friendly smile to Samson when you pass by. He does a double-take, his gaze moving from your face to your arm wrapped around Howzer's, and back to your face again.

Howzer smiles back and doesn't offer any explanation.

Samson isn't the only one looking. Several of the men stare, and Howzer can't help the small thrill of pride that courses through him at their wide-eyed looks.

It's a silly thought, he knows. He shouldn't feel good about being seen with you, not after everything that's happened. But he can't deny the satisfaction he feels at the thought that the men can see the two of you together again, and he wonders how many of them had guessed about his feelings.

Probably all of them.

"This is it," Howzer says as the two of you stop outside the door to the room he claimed as his own.

It's not much—a single bed, a locker, and a desk—but it's enough. It's a quiet place to escape to when the chaos of the galaxy around him becomes too much, though he hasn't spent much time in it since he arrived.

Howzer steps forward and places his hand on the panel, and the door slides open. He motions for you to enter first, and you do, letting go of his arm as you step into the room.

You take a moment to study your surroundings before your eyes land on the lone chair in the room. Howzer can tell what you're thinking. You're going to offer it to him, and he doesn't want it. He can't imagine sitting right now. His legs still feel like jelly and his whole body is still buzzing from the adrenaline of seeing you.

Instead, Howzer leans against the wall by the door and takes a deep breath, watching as you walk forward to examine his desk, your back to him.

The room is quiet, the only sound the faint buzzing of the lights above them. He can't hear the commotion outside. He can't even hear his own heartbeat. All he can hear is you, your soft, slow breathing and the gentle rustle of fabric as you move.

He hesitates to break the silence, but he has to know.

“How are you—how did you survive?” he asks. How are you alive, he wants to say. You shouldn’t be alive. The words stick in his throat.

You stiffen slightly, but you don't turn around. The latest report on their medical supplies is held loosely in your grasp, and Howzer watches the datapad tremble slightly.

“You truly don’t remember?” you ask softly, dropping the report back onto the desk. You pivot to face him, your back pressing into the metal edge, and he can't read your expression.

He swallows. His throat feels dry, and his heart is pounding in his ears.

No. He doesn’t remember. But he needs to.

He shakes his head, the motion almost imperceptible. “No, I…I remember we were speaking in your quarters. I can’t remember what about. There was an incoming transmission, and then…nothing.”

Whatever he said, it must not have been the right thing. Your eyes close as if in pain, your fists clenching at your sides. You inhale a sharp, shaky breath. The sight is almost enough to make him drop the subject. But the need to know is greater than the guilt.

“Please." He says your name quietly, hating the desperation that creeps into his voice. "I need to know.”

He realizes that he’s never called you by your first name before, at least not to your face. It had always been General. He thinks he likes the sound of it, and the way it makes your eyes fly open, surprise and a little bit of warmth filling their depths.

The seconds drag on as he waits for your response, the tension palpable between you. The longer he stares at you, the more he notices. Your jaw is sharper now, your skin slightly more tan. Your hair is the same, and so are your eyes, but there's a new air of maturity to you that hadn't been there before. He's not sure how he feels about the changes, only that he wishes he had been there to see them happen.

When you finally speak, the words are careful and measured. “I can show you, if you let me.”

"Show me?"

"If I'm allowed, I could—"

"Yes," he says. He doesn’t hesitate. He trusts you, and he needs to know what happened.

"Okay," you say, taking a step toward him. "This may hurt."

A moment of silent understanding passes between you before Howzer nods, steeling himself for whatever revelation awaits. You reach out tentatively, pausing a few inches away, and he closes his eyes.

Your fingers press into his temple, and he’s suddenly thrust back into your quarters on Ryloth.

“You seem upset,” your voice says, wavering as if underwater until the haze of the memory begins to lift around you.

The blurry shape of you comes into sharper focus as you move to sit on your bunk. Your beige robes have been discarded, revealing the sleeveless wrap tunic you wear underneath. Another hot evening on Ryloth meant you'd forgone decorum again, loosening the top to allow airflow to your sweat-slicked skin. He remembers admiring the strong lines of your biceps and valley of your breasts revealed with the motion.

He’s in the memory but not entirely, watching himself from the outside like a specter in the shadows. Howzer watches as he forces himself to look away from your body to stare out the window. He can feel the same tension, the same anxiety that gripped him then. He remembers the argument you had that morning. Remembers the hurt, the pain, the guilt. Remembers wanting to reach out, to hold you, but stopping himself.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he answers honestly, for once. It’s a half-truth that sticks to his tongue. “Is it true that this will all be over soon?”

“I’ve felt it coming for a while now,” you say.

Your eyes drift to your hands, and he turns to watch you lace your fingers together tightly in your lap. “Count Dooku is dead. Obi-Wan has moved to engage General Grievous. Saesee and General Windu are arresting the Chancellor as we speak. The war very well may be over now.”

“I see.”

A sense of fatigue washes over him, and he leans against the wall to prop himself up. He wants to leave, to soak the feeling in while in the silence of his own barracks, but something stronger urges him to stay.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“You always have my permission, Howzer,” you say earnestly. It had taken some getting used to, being addressed so informally. The first few times, he'd had to force himself not to jump to attention every time you called him by name. He quickly started to enjoy the intimacy of it, and the way the sound of his name on your lips made him shiver.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He doesn't know where to begin. The last few months have been hard, harder than most, and it's left him feeling raw and exhausted. He's never felt so torn before. Part of him is thrilled that the war is ending, but the other part, the larger, selfish part, is terrified.

“What will happen to us?” he asks, turning to look at you. 

Your face is neutral, but he can tell by the set of your jaw that you're tense. The memory of you takes a moment to collect yourself before speaking.

"What do you mean?"

"After the war," he says, trying and failing to keep the edge of panic out of his voice. "What will happen to us?"

“The clones have fought honorably for the Republic. It’s the least we can do to provide for your future,” you reply. “You’ll be given pensions and housing on Coruscant for as long as you all wish. I expect some will continue their roles in reserve, while the rest will be free to choose their own path.”

He nods appreciatively. He has no idea what he would do with such freedom, but he's grateful all the same. The thought of no longer having a purpose terrifies him, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing you.

He should leave it at that, he should thank you and walk away. Howzer is watching the internal battle he faced on that day and screams at himself to leave. He should leave you be, to enjoy the brief respite the two of you are allowed.

But he can't. Not when this could be the last chance he ever gets.

“Thank you. But I…I meant us, sir.” Howzer gestures between the two of you.

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he can see he’s stunned you. He forges ahead, moving to stare at the wall behind you so he can maintain his courage. “We’ve been together so long, I can barely remember a time without you. Without this. I don't want it to end."

There's a pregnant pause as you struggle for a response, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grows.

“What are you saying?” you ask slowly.

“I’m saying I want more,” he says. He meets your gaze and steps forward, and you rise to your feet at the same time, your tunic fluttering around you.

“Us clones try not to think about the future, but I can't help it. And the only future I want is one with you. That is, if you want that too, sir."

His cheeks are flushed, and his heart is pounding, and he's so nervous. This is the most he's ever confessed, and it feels like the world is crashing down around him, but he means every word.

“Howzer…” Your voice breaks, and it sends a hammer to his heart. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you feel the same,” he says quickly. Howzer’s hand reaches out to grasp your bicep, thumb caressing the bare skin underneath his glove. He moves closer, and your breath hitches as you lean back, but not away.

Your eyes close, head tilting down. He waits with bated breath for you to say something, anything.

When you look up, your eyes are filled with tears, and his stomach drops. Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear you.

“I feel afraid.”

It's like the wind has been knocked out of him. He opens his mouth to speak, to question you further, but his vambrace begins to ping, the message marked urgent. Howzer watches himself let go of you and turn to receive the transmission, and he feels like he's drowning.

No! He screams at himself. Don't take the call. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but watch. You can't let this go. If you lose this chance, you'll never have another.

He's frozen, helpless to watch his past play out. You move toward the window to look out at the setting sun as Howzer opens the encrypted message.

“Execute Order 66,” the hooded figure on the holo speaks, its voice graveled and dark. In his memory, Howzer stares down at the projection with wide, unseeing eyes, before he begins to shake. Something is taking over, something he isn’t strong enough to control.

He knows what he must do.

A cold, heavy weight settles in the pit of his stomach, and his mind feels foggy, sluggish. Howzer looks up from the holo, and the room seems to spin. His hands are trembling, and his heart is pounding in his ears. He blinks hard, once, twice, trying to clear the fog, but it won't go away. A wave of nausea hits him, and his head feels like it's about to explode.

"Howzer?"

Your voice is far away, barely a whisper. You turn, your lips parted, brow creased.

He barely has time to get the words out, to fight the fog for just a second. Just one more second.

"Run," he croaks. He watches his eyes glaze over, watches the last remnants of his control slip through his fingers as he turns, drawing his blaster and firing.

You ignite your lightsaber just in time to deflect the shot aimed at your head. Behind the teal blue glow of your blade, your eyes are wide and confused.

“Howzer?” you ask incredulously. Your arms are raised, holding your saber aloft. But your stance is hesitant, your knees bent as if ready to run.

The blaster is in his hand, and it's pointed at you. It's an impossible weight. A weapon made for killing, a weapon he can't use on you. His hand trembles, and he wills himself to throw it, to break it.

But the fog in his mind is too thick, the orders too loud, and his body moves without him. The trigger clicks under his finger again and again. You duck and roll as a bolt goes whizzing over your head, deflecting another into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down, clouding the air around you. You cough, covering your nose and mouth with the back of your free hand.

"Howzer, please, it's me!" you cry, raising the hilt of your saber. It's not meant to fight, only to protect. A shield against the bolts that won't stop coming.

He's screaming at you, screaming for you to move, to run away, but the words aren't leaving his mouth. The next bolt grazes your shoulder, tearing your tunic. The pain makes you cry out. Howzer can see the wound, red and angry against your skin.

He hears the sound of footsteps and voices getting closer outside the door, but he’s too occupied with the need to fire his blaster to acknowledge them. Howzer’s mind screams that he’s trapped alone with a traitor to the Republic, a burning hatred he’s never felt propelling him forward to attack.

The small voice inside him begging him not to hurt you is silenced for good when an unseen force rips the weapon from his hand. His arm is held aloft above his head, and he struggles like an animal in a trap to free it.

His eyes are wide and feral. Yours are nothing but pleading.

"Please," you beg. "You're stronger than this. I know you are. I can't hurt you."

"Traitor," he spits, struggling against the invisible bonds. "You'll die a traitor."

There are tears streaming down your face now, and he can see the agony in your eyes. The anguish and pain. But also a strength, a determination he's seen many times.

Fists are pounding on the door, and it tears your attention away from him for a moment too long. Howzer’s arm frees itself, and he wastes no time reaching for the blaster carbine on his back. Your eyes snap back to him, and you quickly hold out both hands to push him back into the wall.

Even during training, you were remarkably gentle with your use of the Force. Howzer had seen you throw boulders and pull tanks with your command of the unseen energy field, but he’d never felt more than a soft touch until that day.

But in this memory, you hurl him across the room with the force of a landslide, knocking the breath clear from his lungs, his head slamming hard enough to crack the duracrete.

He tries to stand, but he can't.

His arms won't work, and his legs are leaden, refusing to respond. He's helpless as he watches you raise your arm, your eyes filled with sorrow. He's powerless as you reach out and touch your fingers to his temple.

A warmth emanates from your fingertips, and Howzer feels the pressure in his skull building, building, until—

The memory vanishes, and Howzer finds himself back in his own quarters, slumped against the wall. You're still there, standing a few steps away. You have your arms crossed tightly, your jaw clenched.

Howzer can feel his head pounding, a throbbing phantom pain where it had struck the wall. He raises his fingers to rub his temples.

It's quiet. There's no pounding on the door, no gunfire. Just the two of you.

"So it's true. I almost killed you."

You flinch. It's so subtle, he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"You didn't," you say.

He shakes his head. "I didn't? It looked pretty fucking close. You did that—" He motions vaguely toward the door. "—to stop me."

"To stop myself," you correct. "You didn't have a choice. I couldn't hurt you."

Howzer's jaw clenches, and his throat feels tight. The memory is still fresh in his mind, and the feelings it elicited are not ones he'd like to relive. The shame, the fear, the guilt.

"But I did," he says. His voice is low, and his tone is grave. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You look away from him, and your shoulders droop. "I didn't know. If I'd known the clones had been reprogrammed, I would have tried to find a way to reverse it. To bring you back. All of you."

You sniff, wiping your eyes, and Howzer feels his chest ache. You're blaming yourself. Of course you are.

"Howzer, if there's anything I can do—"

"Don't apologize," he says. His voice is stronger now, and he's glad. He's tired of being weak. Having you here is a reminder of everything he's done wrong, but also of what he could have. What he wants. He straightens, pulling himself away from the wall and standing upright.

"You saved my life. You didn't know what was going to happen. No one did. And even if you had, it would have been too late."

Your brows knit together, and you look back at him. Your lower lip trembles. "How can you forgive me?"

Howzer doesn't know how to answer that. He's not sure there is an answer. Instead, he walks forward, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal. You look so small, so vulnerable, and he hates it. He can see the worry in your eyes, the guilt. It's the same worry and guilt he's seen in the mirror every day since the war ended.

He's only a step away when he stops, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could walk away if you wanted. But you don't, and the look in your eyes is enough to make him reach out. He wipes a tear from your cheek, and the corner of your mouth twitches.

"How can you forgive me?" he asks instead.

"Because you were doing your duty. Because I care about you. Because I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too."

You're so close, close enough to touch, and Howzer can't resist the urge. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug, letting the tension ease from his body. You lean into his embrace, and he rests his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of having you back.

He's not sure how long the two of you stand there, lost in the embrace, but eventually, you pull away. Howzer reluctantly lets go, dropping his arms back to his sides. You look up at him, and the smile on your face makes his stomach flip.

"What you said," you start, swallowing. "That night. Did you mean it?"

He doesn't have to think.

"Yes."

Your breath hitches, and your eyes search his, seeking something. He knows what it is, and it scares him. The last time he laid his heart bare for you, he’d lost everything. But he's spent too much time living in the past. Too much time wishing things were different, regretting the choices he made.

He doesn't want to do that anymore.

"I meant it then, and I still mean it now."

"Really?"

"I do."

He reaches out and takes your hand, lifting it to his lips.

You bite your lip. He can tell you're nervous, and he feels the same. His stomach is fluttering, and his heart is racing. The moment seems surreal, too good to be true.

But he can feel the warmth of your palm in his, can feel the softness of your skin.

"I missed you," he says softly.

"I missed you, too."

Your words are barely a whisper, but they echo in his mind. He can't resist any longer.

"I want to kiss you,” he admits, his voice low. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, and your skin tingles beneath his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath tickles his lips. He can't resist any longer.

Howzer tilts his head and closes the gap between you.

It's slow, tentative, and he's terrified. But when you melt into him, and your lips part against his, all of his fears and doubts are forgotten.

You're real. You're here, with him.

Your hand grips his armor as you kiss him back, and the world falls away. All that matters is you, and him, and this moment.

He feels whole.

The kiss is long and lingering. It's slow, and sweet, and everything he could have ever hoped for. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair there. His own hands roam over your waist and back, mapping out the lines of your body.

He feels you shift onto your toes, pressing against him and pulling him closer, and his heart soars. He can't imagine wanting anything more than this, than the taste of your lips on his, the feel of your body pressed against his.

When the two of you finally part, his lips are tingling, and he can't help but chase yours for another quick peck before he pulls back. You're breathless, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his chest swell, his hands tightening around your waist.

He never wants to let go.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking. He doesn't want to ruin the moment, but he needs you to know. He needs you to hear the words, the sincerity behind them. "I think I always have."

"I love you, too," you say, and it's like the sun coming out after a storm. "I didn't realize until it was too late, but I love you. I don't think I've ever stopped."

His heart swells at the words. He can't believe his ears, can't believe he's hearing you say them. His throat is thick, and his eyes burn, and he blinks back the tears.

Howzer pulls you close, burying his face in your hair and breathing in deeply as his arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly, and you cling to him just as fiercely.

"Stay," he murmurs into your hair, the words barely audible. "Please."

He can feel the way your muscles tense. You pull back, just enough to look at him. "What?"

"Stay," he repeats, looking into your eyes. "With us. With me."

He watches you blink, the surprise evident on your face. He realizes what he's asking of you. How much of a risk it is. You could be killed or taken prisoner by the Empire, and he's asking you to put your life in the hands of the very people who tried to kill you.

But he has to try.

"Howzer, I—I can't. It's too dangerous. If I'm caught—"

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." He reaches up and cradles your face in his hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "Please. I've lost you once. I can't lose you again."

Your eyes search his, and he can see the doubt, the fear. He's never begged anyone for anything before, but he'll beg for you. He'll do whatever it takes.

"Please," he says, his voice cracking. "I need you."

"Howzer," you say, but he can tell you're weakening. Your eyes are watery, and your brow is furrowed.

"I can't do this without you. I can't—I don't want to do this without you."

Your shoulders drop, and your head tilts slightly into his touch. You cover his hand with yours, squeezing gently. You sigh, and his heart sinks. He’s prepared to hear a no. To lose you once more, only this time, willingly. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"Okay," you say softly.

He's speechless. For a moment, the word doesn't register. He's too afraid to hope.

"Okay?"

You nod. "I'll stay. If you'll have me."

He can't help the broad grin that spreads across his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the ground. You squeak, but you laugh, and the sound fills him with joy. He spins, hugging you tight as you giggle into his neck.

He's elated, and he can't hold back the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He feels light, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. As soon as your feet touch the ground he's kissing you again, cupping your face and tasting the smile on your lips.

He loves you. You love him. You're staying.

The thought is so incredible, so wonderful, that he can't stop kissing you, and you don't seem to mind. He pours all his emotions, all his love, into each brush of his lips, hoping that you can feel everything he's feeling, hoping that you understand how much this means to him.

He thinks you must.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. His hands drift down to your waist, and his thumbs brush against the skin where your tunic has ridden up. He kisses you deeper, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a bolt of heat straight through him.

His heart is pounding, and he can't get enough of you. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, letting him taste you. The kiss grows deeper, hungrier, and his grip on you tightens, drawing you flush against him.

One of your hands moves to his chest, the other threading through his hair. Your touch sets him on fire, and he can feel himself straining against the confines of his armor. He doesn't know how far this is going, but he can't stop, can't bring himself to pull away.

Not when your teeth sink into his lower lip, or your nails scrape against his scalp. Not when you arch into him, your soft chest pressing into his chestplate. Not when his hands explore your body, mapping out every curve and dip, every muscle and bone.

His tongue brushes against yours, and he moans. He wants more, so much more. He's lost in you, and he doesn't want to find his way back.

"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. His lips move to your jaw, and he trails kisses down your neck, the taste of you intoxicating.

 The room spins, and Howzer finds himself pressed against the wall, the cold duracrete sending a shiver down his spine. Your hands are gripping the edge of his chest plate, and your lips are hot and demanding. You bite his lower lip, tugging at it, and his eyes flutter shut.

"No." Your voice is husky, and the sound goes straight to his cock. "Don't stop."

His heart leaps into his throat, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you."

"I'm yours."

The words are a balm on his soul, healing wounds he didn't know he had. He can't get enough, can't stop kissing you. He nearly whines when you break away from his mouth, but the disappointment is short-lived when your lips move to his neck. He gasps, the sensation of your hot mouth and wet tongue overwhelming.

Your hands trail down his body, and his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he moans. His head falls back, and his eyes flutter shut. His entire body is on fire, and the sound of your lips smacking against his neck only adds fuel to the flames. "Fuck, I love you."

You hum against his skin, and he bites back a groan.

"I love you," you whisper, the words ghosting over his neck. "I need you.”

It's all he can take.

His hands reach under your ass and lift, and you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, and his teeth clack against yours as he spins and presses you against the wall. You grind against his codpiece, and he breaks the kiss, hissing.

"You're so kriffing beautiful," he groans, his voice ragged. "You drive me crazy."

You're panting, and your cheeks are flushed, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight.

"I missed you," you say again. "I needed you."

He doesn't want to admit how close to home those words hit.

"I'm here now." His voice is rough, and his hands are gripping your hips tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," you say, before pulling him back into another kiss.

It's hard and messy and desperate. You're both clinging to each other like your lives depend on it, and it's almost painful, the need that's taken root inside him. He's wanted you for so long, and now that he's here, with you in his arms, he can't get enough. He can't stop.

You pull back, and his head tilts up to chase your lips. He's dizzy with lust and want, his breathing shallow.

"Howzer, can we—" Your voice is breathless, and your eyes are wild.

He nods, understanding immediately.

He kisses you hard, and he can feel your hands fumbling for the clasps on his chestplate. He doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to lose the contact between the two of you, but he does, if only to help you.

It's not long before the heavy plastoid is removed, tossed haphazardly onto the floor. You waste no time, moving on to his greaves. You're so close, your scent clouding his mind, and his skin prickles beneath the intensity of your gaze. If he wasn’t so dizzy with want, he’d be amused at how focused you are, the way your brows are furrowed and your bottom lip caught between your teeth. But he can't think straight, can barely even breathe.

The pieces fall to the floor, and the sound echoes through the quiet room. By the time his bracers are removed, he's already shaking. He can't help it. It's been so long, and the desire coursing through his veins is threatening to overwhelm him.

He pulls at the laces on your tunic, loosening them enough that he can tug the material down. He leans down, trailing kisses down the newly exposed skin. Your breath hitches, and his name is a sigh on your lips. He smiles against your collarbone, nipping lightly before he sucks a mark into the flesh.

"Kriff," you gasp, your hips jerking forward. "Howzer."

The sound of his name sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, and he moans. He pulls back to lift your tunic over your head, discarding it somewhere behind him. You're bare except for your breastband, and his eyes rake over your body, taking in the sight of you, mapping the scars and curves and dips. Most of them he's seen before, the few times you were injured during the war, but the new ones, the ones he doesn't know, they're more than he can handle.

He reaches out, tentatively running his fingers over a blaster burn on your stomach, and the skin jumps underneath his touch.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you say, nodding.

He runs his palm over the scar, tracing its edges. The flesh is puckered and pink, and he knows it's a wound that could have killed you. It’s one he should have been there to prevent.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head. "Not anymore."

He traces the scar, committing it to memory. There are others, some fresher, some older, and his eyes follow his fingers, touching each and every one.

When he's done, he meets your gaze. Your eyes are wide, and your lips are parted, and he feels his chest tighten. You're so beautiful. So perfect. And you're here, with him.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. "Better than fine. You?”

"Me too."

His hands move to your back, finding the clasp of your breastband and releasing it. He holds his breath as the band comes loose, and his eyes drop down to take in the sight of your bare chest. His cock twitches in his pants, and he has to stifle a groan.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your breast. "Absolutely perfect."

His calloused thumb scrapes against your nipple, and it hardens instantly. Your breath hitches, and he feels his pulse quicken. He wants to hear the sounds you make, wants to know what his touch does to you.

He leans down, and his lips replace his fingers. His mouth closes around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the stiff peak. You gasp, and he feels a surge of satisfaction. His free hand squeezes your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your body arches into him, and your breathy sighs turn into moans.

He's intoxicated by the sounds you're making, by the way your body responds to his touch. He can’t get enough, and he sucks harder, teasing your nipple with his tongue. Your hands are gripping his shoulders, and your hips are bucking into his, searching for friction.

You're so sensitive, and his head is spinning. He doesn't know how long he spends teasing and torturing you, but it's not long enough. When he finally releases your breast with a pop, you're panting, and your skin is flushed.

“Armor off,” you growl, and he chuckles.

"Yes, sir," he says, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He reaches down and tugs at his boot, and you slide down the wall. The look in your eyes makes him shiver.

"I'm not your General anymore."

"No, but I'm still your loyal soldier," he says. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out more serious than he intended.

You smirk, and the expression sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

"Then get to it, soldier."

He raises an eyebrow, and if he wasn’t so turned on, he might be embarrassed by how fast he rips off his remaining armor, his fingers fumbling at the clasps. When he's finished, you're grinning, and his heart skips a beat. He whips the top half of his blacks off, tossing it onto the floor, and before he can register what's happening, you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

The feeling of your bare chest against his sends a bolt of heat through him, and his hands find their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth, and his cock throbs.

He's so distracted by the feeling of your lips and tongue and hands that he barely registers the tugging on his waistband. Not until his blacks are sliding down his hips, exposing his hard length to the cool air of the room.

"Kriff," he hisses, breaking the kiss. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Hopefully not," you murmur, nipping his lower lip.

"Well, you're sure making it hard."

You look down, and your lips curl into a wicked grin. He feels his cock twitch, and a drop of precome beads at the tip.

"Hard?" you ask innocently.

He groans, leaning his head against yours. "You're awful."

"I know." You reach down and take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently. He can't help but moan. "But I think you like it."

"Kriff," he curses, biting back another groan. "I love it."

He closes his eyes, and your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the slickness around. His breath hitches, and he can feel the pleasure coiling low in his belly. You're so good at this, and he's already so close, and when you sink to your knees and look up at him through those long lashes, his brain short-circuits.

You grip his cock firmly, and he sucks in a sharp breath, bracing his forearm against the wall. You lean in, and your lips brush against his stomach, kissing the soft skin just below his navel. He trembles.

"Relax," you whisper, pressing another kiss to his abdomen.

“Fuck," he groans. "Don't tell me to relax."

He's so wound up, so on edge, his whole body is tingling. Your tongue darts out, and you lick a hot stripe up his cock, and his hips buck involuntarily. You smile, and his eyes flutter shut, his chest heaving.

Your mouth is warm and wet, and you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit. His eyes squeeze shut, and his breathing grows ragged.

You begin to bob your head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. When he hits the back of your throat, you hum, and his knees nearly give out.

"Fucking hell," Howzer moans, his voice cracking. His head falls forward, and his forehead rests against his forearm. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is open, and he's trying desperately to hold back the embarrassing sounds that threaten to escape.

You pull back, and the cold air against his saliva-slick cock makes him shiver. Your hand is still working him, pumping his shaft, and his balls tighten. He can feel his orgasm building, his whole body tensing, and it's too soon, much too soon, and he needs to slow down.

"Stop, stop, stop," he chants, pulling away from you. He's so close, so painfully close, and he can't stand the thought of finishing before he even gets inside you.

You pull away, looking up at him with confusion. "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to come," he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile wickedly. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And what if I want you to?" You hum, your fingers teasing the tip of his cock. It’s the lightest touch, but it makes him jump. He closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. He's never been this close to losing control so fast, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"Please," he begs, his voice a choked whisper. "Not like this. Not yet."

The teasing expression on your face melts into something softer, and you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He tastes himself on your tongue, and it only turns him on more.

"Alright," you murmur against his lips, your breath hot. "How do you want me?"

He feels the question like a punch to the gut, and his mouth goes dry. "I—um—"

"Howzer," you say softly, nipping his bottom lip. "Don't make me order you."

His eyes fly open, and his cock twitches. The image of you ordering him around, telling him what to do, how to fuck you—

"Howzer."

He's so fucked.

"Bed," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now."

The corner of your mouth quirks, and you raise an eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

He swallows and reaches down, trailing his fingers along the seam of your trousers. Your eyes flutter shut, and a breathy sigh escapes your lips. He watches you, and he can see the way your chest is heaving, the flush that creeps down your neck. It gives him the confidence to continue.

"I want you to take these off," he breathes. “And I want you on your back.”

"Yes, sir," you say, a teasing smile on your lips.

His heart lurches. "Oh, now you listen to me."

"Maybe I like when you're in charge," you purr.

He can't help the groan that escapes him.

Your hands slide down his chest, and you walk away, turning your back to him as you loosen the ties to your trousers. You make a show of sliding them down your legs, bending at the waist, and he nearly chokes when your underwear slides off, too.

"Kriff," he mumbles, his eyes glued to your ass.

You straighten and toss him a coy look over your shoulder, and he's helpless, completely and utterly enraptured.

"Like what you see?"

"Always," he replies, his voice low.

He can't stop himself from reaching out, his hand running up the smooth skin of your thigh. But you dance out of his grasp, laughing.

"Not so fast," you tease.

He growls, a sound that rumbles in his chest. "Don't be a tease."

"What's the matter, Captain?" you ask, stepping towards the bed. "Getting impatient?"

Howzer lets out a laugh of disbelief. He's beyond frustrated, he's already the most desperate he's ever been. Usually he’d play along with your games, but right now, he needs you, and he can't stand the thought of waiting another minute.

"Yes," he says, his voice rough. "Now get on the fucking bed."

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yes, sir."

You move, and in one fluid motion, you're laying down on the bed. You spread your legs, inviting him, and he nearly passes out. You look like every fantasy he's ever had, laid out for him, waiting for him.

"Like this?"

"Yes," he groans, his voice cracking.

"Come here, then," you say, your tone seductive.

He can see how wet you are, how ready you are for him. It makes his head spin, his heart race. He wants to taste you, to bury his face between your legs. But the ache in his cock is too strong, the need to feel you overwhelming. He has to take a deep breath before he approaches, afraid his legs won't work.

"What are you waiting for?" you ask.

"Just...taking in the view,” he replies, his voice low and rough. He tries to meet your eyes, but he can't stop staring at the apex of your thighs, at your glistening pussy, begging for him.

You giggle, a sound he's never heard from you before, and he decides right then and there that it's his new favorite sound.

"So poetic," you tease.

"I can be," he retorts, trying to play along even though all his blood is currently rushing south.

"Come on," you say. "Don't make me wait any longer."

He's never been able to deny you.

Howzer steps forward, and before you can register his movements, he's kneeling on the bed between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs. He's not gentle as he pushes them further apart, baring you to him. 

"Oh," you gasp.

He smirks, and his eyes rake over your body as he settles himself between your legs. He takes a moment to memorize the sight of you, your hair splayed out on the pillow, your flushed skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath. 

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking. The sound of it wakes him from his stupor, and he grips your thighs tighter, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh.

"What was that?"

You bite your lip and look away, but he can see the heat in your cheeks, the way your breathing is heavy.

"I said please," you repeat, turning your gaze back to him.

His smirk widens. "I couldn't quite hear you," he teases, his fingertips grazing the outside of your folds. He can feel how wet you are, how hot, and it makes his head spin.

You whine, and your hips buck against his hand. "Please, Howzer."

The sound of his name on your lips is like music, and he can't resist any longer.

Howzer leans down and presses a hot, wet kiss to your inner thigh. You gasp, and he sucks a mark into the skin, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. He repeats the process on the other leg, leaving a matching mark, and your body writhes beneath him. He pulls back, admiring his handiwork.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"You're a menace," you huff.

He chuckles and runs a finger along the length of your folds, gathering the slick that's pooled there. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"You're not being very ni—ah!" Your words turn into a gasp when he dips his head, his tongue dragging through your folds, the taste of you coating his tongue. He feels you tremble, and your hand tangles in his hair. He loves the way you grip him, and the soft sound of his name spurs him on.

Howzer moves to your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips arch off the bed, and he has to use his forearm to keep you down, his hand splayed across your stomach. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them and rubbing the spot he knows will make you moan.

He's rewarded by the sound of his name, your breathy cries filling the room. He works you hard and fast, his tongue and fingers relentless. You're soaking wet, and he can't believe how hot and tight you are around his fingers.

"I've dreamed of this," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit.

"Really?"

He nods, and the movement causes his stubble to scrape against your skin. "Mhm. Ever since we first met.”

You let out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when his fingers hit the right spot. "I-is that so?"

"Yes," he says, curling his fingers and pressing hard. "All those years fighting beside you, and I could barely control myself. It was torture."

You keen, your pussy clenching around his fingers, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I used to think about all the things I'd do if I ever got the chance."

"I thought about it too," you pant.

He looks up, surprised. The motions of his hand stutter, but he regains his composure, picking up the pace and making you gasp. "You did?"

You nod, and he watches your face, your eyes closed, your brows furrowed.

"What did you think about?"

"This," you breathe. "How you'd feel, how you'd taste, how you'd make me come."

The admission sends a jolt through him, and he moans against your clit, the vibrations making you writhe. He doubles his efforts, and his tongue draws patterns across your sensitive flesh. Your thighs tense around his head, and he feels the way you tighten around his fingers.

"I thought about you fucking me," you continue, and his eyes flutter shut. "About you filling me up and making me scream."

He can't help the noise he makes, a low, desperate groan. His cock throbs, aching for relief, and he knows he can't wait much longer. He needs you to come, needs to feel you come undone beneath him.

He can feel you getting closer, the way your breathing gets shallower, the way your muscles begin to tense. You're panting his name, and your hips are rolling, and he can tell you're close, so close.

“I’ll do whatever you want, sweetheart," he growls, the words muffled against your skin. "Just let go. Come for me."

The pet name seems to do the trick, and a string of curses spills from your lips as your body convulses, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. Your hands grip his hair, tugging painfully at the roots, and he can't find it in himself to care. He keeps pumping, drawing out your orgasm until you're writhing, begging for mercy.

When you're finally spent, he pulls back, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He can't stop looking at you, can't stop drinking in the sight of you, flushed and satisfied. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and his chest feels so full, so complete.

"Well?" he asks.

"What?"

"Was it everything you imagined?"

Your face breaks into a smile, and you shake your head, laughing. "It was better."

"Good," he says, kissing the inside of your thigh. He slowly withdraws his fingers, and his lips find your clit again, sucking gently and licking up the fresh wave of slick.

You moan, and your hands fall from his hair to the sheets, clutching at them. He can't get enough, can't stop tasting you. He could spend hours between your thighs, and it wouldn't be enough.

"Howzer," you sigh.

"You taste good," he mumbles, not bothering to pull his lips away from your cunt.

"Come here," you plead. "I want you."

"I am here."

"No," you laugh. "I want you inside me."

"Is that an order?" he asks, teasingly.

"It is," you reply.

"Then I better follow it."

Howzer is on top of you in an instant, his lips finding yours. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and he groans, his hips bucking against yours. His cock is pressed against your slit, and you're so wet, and it would be so easy to slip inside. He can't stand the thought of waiting any longer.

He reaches between your bodies, and you feel him lining up, the blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance. He pulls back, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Always."

The word fills his heart with warmth, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

He's still smiling when he pushes inside, and his grin only grows wider at the feeling of your tight, wet heat around him. He has to fight the urge to come right then and there, and his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Kriff," he gasps.

"Don't stop," you pant, your eyes screwed shut.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He thrusts in deeper, sinking another inch, and the noise that escapes your lips is the hottest thing he's ever heard. He does it again, and again, and before he knows it, he's fully sheathed inside you, his cock stretching you open, his hips flush against yours.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, the nickname coming out almost unbidden. "You feel so good."

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, and your eyes are screwed shut. Your brow is furrowed, and your mouth is hanging open, and he can't tear his eyes away.

"I—" he starts, but the words die in his throat. He can't find the right ones, can't articulate the depth of his feelings for you. So instead, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another, to the tip of your nose.

You look up at him, and the expression in your eyes is so tender, so full of affection, that his heart skips a beat.

"I love you," he whispers, the words escaping him without thought.

"I love you, too."

His heart soars, and he can't help but lean down and kiss you, his lips crashing into yours. It's a messy, passionate kiss, full of heat and need and love. You cling to him, and he loses himself in the feeling of you, of your arms and legs and mouth. He sets a slow pace, his hips moving in shallow, lazy thrusts.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and he takes the opportunity to hooks his hands underneath your knees, bringing them up and bending you in half.

"What—" you start, but your question is cut off by a moan as he thrusts deeper, the angle changing and his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You like that?"

You nod, your eyes closing, and he grins. His movements are languid, and you're so wet, and it's the best thing he's ever felt, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock.

"So do I," he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your knee. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So kriffing good."

"Howzer," you murmur, the word a sigh.

He hums in response, and the feeling of it vibrates through his chest, his mouth still pressed against your knee. You shiver.

"You feel amazing," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't believe how good you feel."

"Howzer," you groan, your hips bucking, the movement causing him to slide in even deeper on each thrust. "Harder."

"You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Please," you beg, your voice a whine.

"Fuck," he swears. "Yes, sir."

He pulls back and sets a new, punishing pace. He can't stop the noises that escape him, and his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you, the sound obscene. He's so close, but he needs you to come again, needs to feel you squeeze his cock, hear his name fall from your lips as you climax.

"Look at me," he orders.

You do, and the sight of your eyes, wild and dark with desire, is almost enough to push him over the edge. But he holds back, determined to make you come.

He wedges a hand between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. Your breath catches, and your cunt clenches around him, the rhythmic tightening sending him spiraling closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he groans, and he can't believe he's begging, but he is, and he doesn't care. "Please, sweetheart, come for me."

The pressure of his fingers and the sound of his voice are enough, and you shudder, crying out his name as your cunt spasms around him.

It's too much. He's been on edge for so long, and it's impossible to resist any longer. Before he can stop himself, he's coming, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing as his balls empty themselves, coating your walls. He can feel his release dripping out, leaking down his shaft, and the thought of it is so filthy, so hot, that he nearly blacks out.

"Fuck," he gasps, his head falling forward. He's shaking, his body wracked with the force of his release. It feels like every single nerve in his body is on fire, and his vision is blurred, and the only thing keeping him tethered to reality is the feeling of your hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

When his body finally stops trembling, he opens his eyes, and you're looking up at him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Hi," you say softly.

"Hey," he replies, his voice hoarse. He looks down and sees the mess between your thighs, his cock and your folds coated in his release. He groans. "Sorry, I—I should have asked if you were okay with that."

"It's fine," you reassure him, your hand stroking his hair. "It was good. Really good."

"I'll pull out," he mumbles, leaning down and kissing you.

"Wait," you say, and the sound is muffled against his lips. "Not yet."

"Okay," he whispers, pulling back.

"I just want to feel you for a little longer."

The words make his heart ache, and he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, softer this time. Your legs fall from his shoulders, and they wrap around his waist, keeping him close.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Perfect," you murmur, running your hands down his back.

He presses his forehead against yours, and he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of you. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, neither of you wanting to move.

Finally, he pulls away, and the soft, disappointed noise you make sends a jolt through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he soothes. "Just trying to find something to clean us up."

You groan and bury your face in the pillow, and the sight is so endearing, he can't help but lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth.

"I'll be right back," he says, reluctantly untangling himself from your limbs.

"Fine," you huff, and the pout on your lips is adorable.

He climbs off the bed and walks to the 'fresher, and when he returns, you're propped up on one elbow, watching him. Your gaze is focused on his softening cock, and his cheeks heat up.

"Like what you see?" he asks, echoing your words from earlier.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Always."

The blush deepens, and he clears his throat. He makes his way back to the bed, and he cleans up the mess that's leaking out of you, wiping up his spend. When he's finished cleaning both of you, he tosses the cloth to the floor and climbs into the bed, pulling the blankets up and tucking the two of you in.

"That's better," you sigh, curling up next to him.

Howzer wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you nestle into the crook of his arm. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and the two of you lie in silence, enjoying each other's presence.

"I love you," you say softly, after a few minutes.

"I love you, too."

Your hand rests on his chest, and your fingers trace the planes of his muscles. He shivers, and he can't suppress the grin that spreads across his face. He feels like his heart might burst.

"So," you say, after a while. "How long have you been holding onto that?"

He snorts, and his arm tightens around you. "How long ago was that day on Kamino?"

"What?" you ask, surprise evident in your voice. You sit up and look at him, and he's pleased to see the blush that stains your cheeks. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Nope. That's when I knew."

"Howzer!"

"What?"

"That was...that was ages ago," you stammer, and the way you can't seem to get your words out makes him chuckle.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Well, I'm sorry it took me so long," you murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

"It's alright," he says, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers through yours. "You're worth the wait."

"So are you."

He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He can feel his eyelids getting heavy, and the weight of your body is comforting. The steady rhythm of your breathing is soothing, and before long, his consciousness begins to slip away.

The last thing he hears is the sound of your voice, sleepy and content.

"I love you, Howzer."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

He drifts off to sleep, and the last thing he feels is the press of your lips against his chest, just above his heart.

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@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony

[crispywaffles2]

hii, may I request macaque, wukong, and MK (seperately) x reader who likes to put ribbon bows on their tails? Thought it would be a cute idea ^_^

Hii!! Thank you so much for the request, this is such a cute thing to think about! I hope you enjoy! EDIT: I FORGOT TO WRITE MK IN THIS AS WELL, IM SO SORRY 😭

Macaque, Mk & Wukong With an S/O who likes to decorate their tails!

Wukong:

Wukong is most certainly confused by your strange habit

If you were to ask him to put a ribbon or bow on his tail, he'd give you a strange look

"A bow? Well... uh, sure bud!"

It doesn't really match his whole "Great Sage Equal to Heaven" schtick in his opinion

What would formidable enemies think if he went into battle with a cutesy bow on his tail??

His monkeys most certainly make fun of him for it, much to his dismay

He wouldn't wear it if he was about to go into battle or leave his mountain at first, because if his monkeys make fun of it who knows who else will do the same?

Eventually he'll warm up to it

If you tie a little orange ribbon at the end of his tail trust and believe he will be working it with pride

"Oooh, I like this color! Goes well with my fur,"

He'd start longingly staring at the sweet ribbons you tie on his tail whenever you're not around and he misses you because they remind him of you

He'll start wearing them out in public with a bit less shame, happily flicking his tail in peoples faces

"Look! My partner gave it to me, isn't it so cute?"

And he'll start wearing them in battles too!

Having a little piece of you there with him gives him just a little bit of an extra boost and reminds him of all of the things he's fighting for

Now he likes to think they go well with his personality

"Great Sage Equal to Heaven" whos not afraid to have a bit of a cutesy accessory while he kicks butt

If you're more sneaky with their placement though, that's a whole other story

He's out enjoying a nice bowl of noodles with his favorite mentor, only mentor honestly, and he hears them chuckle and point at his tail while uttering the words "Nice bow Monkey Princess,"

His face goes bright red and he quickly curls his tail around his leg to hide the thoughtfully tied ribbon from view

"Yeah, so what?! Maybe I was just feelin' a bit more elegant today, you ever think about that?"

But as soon as he bids Mk adieu he's right at your doorstep with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face

An embarrassed scolding is in order for you, that's for sure

"Hun, you know I love you, but you can't just tie ribbons on my tail like that! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was when my mentor called me a princess?!"

Eventually he relents and you two end up in a hug, his go-to when reassuring you that he's not mad or he's sorry

"Just don't do it without telling me. Next time I could be faced with Macaque, and you know how he is."

All in all it takes him a bit of time to warm up to it, but after that he'll flaunt them, and you, with confidence

Macaque:

Macaque is a lot more reluctant than his sunny counterpart

He has a tough bad boy image to uphold, why on Earth would he let you bedazzle him with your silly ribbons and bows?

"A bow? No thanks darlin'."

It takes lots of begging and whining before he caves in, and even then he refuses to go out in them

You couldn't waterboard the information out of him, but when you finish carefully tying up the little red ribbon on the end of his tail he's in love

It goes well with his cape and adds a sort of air of sophistication onto his overall demeanor

It's probably just the inner drama queen in him speaking but it makes him feel weirdly fancy and extravagant

But again, he's not going to tell you that

He won't protest as much when you tie them on

Will suggest different colors and ways to tie the ribbons

"Why don't we try purple this time? No it's not because I care about what it looks like- it was just a suggestion!"

Sometimes he tries to put them on himself because he's embarrassed to ask you, but he quickly figured out that he cannot tie bows for the life of him

And even if he learns, they're just not the same as yours

He will eventually come around to the idea of wearing them in public

He keeps his ribbon clad tail hidden beneath his cape most of the time unless he's feeling particularly confident or he wants to show it off on purpose

If anyone has the gall to try and make fun of it he's quick to shoot them down

"Yeah I have a bow on my tail, my partner gave it to me. Aww, don't tell me you don't have a partner of your own? Is that why you think you're funny? Because you don't have anyone at home to tell you you're not?"

He warms up to the idea so much that he begins to regularly ask you to decorate his tail with multiple bows and ribbons

One time, as a silly joke, you tied a particularly big red bow at the base of his tail and jokingly told him he looked like a show cat

It was a funny joke, but Macaque really really liked it

So much so that he wore it regularly, asking you to tie it on for him every time he went out

If you were to be sneaky and tie it on his tail without him knowing well..

He's actually not that upset

He's hanging out with Mei, probably the one he likes and relates to the most out of everyone, when she giggles and points at his tail, calling him 'coquette' or something

He's not sure what that term means, but he does find the fact that a little pink bow being tied on his tail without his knowledge to be amusing

Just for funsies he keeps it on all day

If and when he decides to go visit the culprit, which he knows is you, he playfully chides you

"Alright sugarplum, you know I have an image to uphold! You can't just slip little pretty pink bows on my tail without my permission!"

Once you two have had a good laugh he just chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead

All in all he really likes the bows that you decorate him with and takes it as a sign of affection, but it takes a long time for him to be open about it

Mk:

Mk in his monkey form is certainly.. something

He can't quite control himself in that form yet, but that isn't to say that he's constantly violent

He just doesn't know his own strength

With his monkey form more stern and serious, he doesn't hold back, he's blunt

And, completely unrelated, his voice is like two octaves deeper

He's scared he might hurt you, or the people he cares about, so he rarely ever uses it unless he's in battle or training

In hopes of making him more comfortable and as a way of letting him know that you're okay with this side of himself, you began tying bows on the end of his tail

He's not sure how to feel about the idea at first

"Tying.. bows? Sure, I guess.."

He doesn't know if you don't take him seriously or if you're just trying to be sweet

He's still getting used to having a tail, so sometimes it gets caught on things, which will occasionally lead to your ribbons getting torn

It makes him feel horrible for some reason, and he's always presenting the torn fabric to you like it's the remains of a dead soldier or something

"I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I promise,"

He's not against wearing them out in public (not that he ever goes in public with his monkey form)

If it's after a battle and someone were to say anything about his bow he'd hardly care

"Looks like we got a funny guy over here everyone!"

And everyone in the vicinity glares at them

Much like his mentor, he slowly starts seeing the bows less as just some silly accessory on his tail and more as a subtle reminder of you

Whenever he's in his monkey form he makes sure to come to you for a bow

"I'm feeling kinda red-ish today, what do you think?"

Your plan works, and he starts feeling better about his over powered simian side

You love him no matter what, freakishly strong or just a silly delivery boy, and the bows are just a testament to that

All in all, he finds them adorable, and what they represent fuel him to fully embrace this side of himself in order to protect the people he cares about

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Seven

A/N: Hi friends! I can't say it enough, thank you so much for all of your love on this story. I was so worried when I was drafting it that I was writing nothing, so thank you so much for your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Like before, please see tag list in comments.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.8k Synopsis: As their remaining hope dies out, the reader takes Jeyne's advice.

Warnings: smut!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You get on a ship to Dragonstone early the next morning. You don't see Jace before you leave, and you don't even entertain the thought of looking for him.

It’s a two day trip to Dragonstone, and throughout most of the journey you stand against the railing, watching the water crash against the ship over and over. You feel like the water, a little bit. No matter what you do, what actions you take to be careful, it’s hit after hit, to you and those around you.

The trip is a silent one, and when the castle is finally visible, it suddenly dawns on your how alone you'll be here. The castle is mostly abandoned save a few necessary staff. Even the crew that surrounds you now provide some kind of background noise, some escape from inside your head.

The quiet might be a blessing, though, you realize. In the Red Keep, there was always a member of House Targaryen distracting you from your task. After what Jeyne had said about Lord Blacktyde, you needed to finally focus on finding a husband.

The crew lets you off the ship without fuss, dropping your case on the pier next to you. They are on their way to Pentos, and for a moment, you consider running back aboard and going with them. Resettling in a strange country seems easier than navigating through the mess you made here.

The warden is waiting for you at the end of the dock. He greets and leads you towards the castle, saying very little to you on the walk up. As you get closer, you take in the dark castle. It’s not as large as the Red Keep, but the inside is so empty that it might as well be. When you walk inside, your footsteps echo all the way up to your quarters.

You are given a room that looks out onto the bay. Once the door closes behind the warden, you walk out there, letting the cool breeze off the sea fill your lungs. Somehow, the air feels different here.

It’s peaceful here. For a moment you delude yourself that you could hide out here forever. It’s large enough that it would take a little while for anyone to locate you if hidden. But then a cry breaks over the horizon, and you realize why that plan would never work.

A green dragon's silhouette breaks across the horizon. The sight of Vermax does not surprise you. Without realizing it, you knew Jace would follow you. Maybe that's why you had walked out here, you had instinctually known he would be there.

Vermax banks into a landing on the seashore, far down from the dock you arrived at. You watch Jace approach the castle. The wind whips the curls around his face and the cape across his back. The doors to the castle open before he can reach them, sight of his dragon tipping them off as well. The warden greets him, much heartier than he did you.

Jace’s eyes glance up for a minute but do a double take when he sees you watching. He smiles, and the look soothes you.

Moments later, he is at your door. When you don’t answer right away, you hear him laugh.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice warm, “I already saw you, so don’t try to hide.”

“I would never dream of hiding from you, Your Highness,” you say, opening the door for him. His good humor falls just a little bit when you close it behind him.

“I heard what happened,” he says.

“I assumed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you say, fiddling with a ring on your finger to keep from looking at him. “And besides, it doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because we knew this was where this path would lead us.”

“Y/N,” he starts with a sigh.

“We knew,” you say quietly, frowning at him. He looks like he wants to say more, but knows that whatever point he'll make is moot.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

“Jace," you say with a sad laugh, "I kissed you the first time.” His dark eyes meet yours.

“I could have left you alone,” he says seriously.

“Could you have?” you ask, studying his face. “Truly?”

“I could have tried."

“Well, it doesn’t matter now," you say, walking into the room, fiddling with the furniture around you, just to keep your hands busy. Nerves build inside of you as you ask, "What did Baela say?”

“Just that she knew. I didn’t argue with her, I just let her get it out.”

“Was she angry?” you ask, chancing a look back at him. He looks tired, you realize for the first time. You wish you could go to him.

“She was angry about the lying, but Baela thinks like me,” he says slowly, “We don’t have what you and I have. Not even close. I think if she knew how we feel. How we truly feel—”

“She’d give up being queen?” you ask in disbelief.

“She’s one of my closest friends, she wants me to be happy.”

“Regardless,” you say, “This doesn’t lead anywhere else but here. I will never be your queen.”

“I told you I’m trying. With my mother—”

“Even if the queen was okay with it, would the realm be? Would Balea and Rhaena? Would their father?” you ask, eyes wide as you fight off frustrated tears.

“They will all get over it,” he says. “ The realm doesn’t care. Not every Targaryen has married within their family.”

“This argument is useless,” you say, leaning against the table in your room with a sigh. “We are simply out of time and options.”

“If we talk to Baela—”

“Baela would have told you already if she wanted to break your betrothal,” you say. “She doesn’t. And I don’t blame her.” He moves closer, the closest you've been since he arrived. You brush a hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I know that this breaks your heart, like it does my own,” you say softly. Jace’s hand covers yours and kisses your palm.

“We still have now,” he says. You let out a laugh, sniffing back tears.

“How did you even get away?” you ask.

“I’m the Prince of Dragonstone,” he says smugly, “This is my castle, after all.” You laugh gently. After a pause, you stand and wrap your arms around his neck, needing just another second in his. He holds you just as tightly, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your back.

“Thank you for coming,” you whisper.

“Where else would I be?”

You spend most of the day entwined. Neither of you say much, as there isn’t much to say. This fantasy is fast coming to an end.

As the day turns to night and the island cools, you and Jace make a fire in your chambers, and sit close on the couch in the room, wine flowing between the two of you.

“Did Baela say anything to you about what exactly we had done?” he asks, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns along your wrist. You study his downcast eyes.

“No,” you say, “Nothing specific. Why?”

“When she spoke with me, she alluded to the fact that I had . . . ruined your reputation.”

“Ah,” you say with a nod. Still, his attention is focused on your hands, dancing around each other. “Did you tell her we hadn’t?”

“She didn’t seem to believe me,” he says, “But yes.”

“We know it’s a line we haven’t crossed. If that unburdens our guilty consciences at all.”

“I’m not guilty, Y/N,” he says, “Not really. I’m sorry to have hurt Baela, but my heart never belonged to her. Not in the way it belongs to you now.” You are quiet for a long moment, too long for his thoughts, it seems.

“So, you’ve never thought about it?” he asks, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Ruining yourself. With me,” he adds.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” you say, smiling at him, “But thinking it and doing it are two very different things.”

“We’ve done other things,” he says. You can hear the strain in his voice. You flip your wrists, playing with the lines of his palm.

“We’ve kissed,” you say. His eyes flick between your eyes and lips. “That act won’t ruin me.”

“Oh no?” he asks, leaning in closer.

“Not more than it already has,” you say, your words on his lips as he kisses you slowly. “Besides,” you say, “It’s not like I haven’t kissed others before.”

“I don’t want to hear about that,” he says, dropping your hand altogether to snake his around your back, closing the minimal gap between the two of you. You curl into his arms as he kisses you again – just as slow, but with more intent, more meaning, behind it. You let him trap you there for a moment longer before breaking away, a hand to his cheek.

“It’s not like you haven’t kissed anyone else,” you say. “You’ve kissed Baela.”

“It’s not the same,” he says lowly.

“Why not?”

“Because I never kissed her like this.” He takes your face in his hands and devastates your mouth with his own. He holds you there while his tongue takes an exploratory, conquering tour of your mouth. You break away with a gasp.

“You still kissed her,” you say.

“Why are we talking about her at all?” he asks with a sigh, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“We’re not,” you say, breaking out of his arms, rising from the chair to refill the wine.

“Right, we were talking about thoughts.”

“Right."

“Tell me about these thoughts of yours,” he says.

“No,” you say with a laugh.

“Why not?” he asks, immediately pulling you closer when you sit down.

“Because I keep those longings locked,” you say.

“In that beautiful mind of yours,” Jace says, smiling as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Keep those longings anywhere else?” he asks. You let out a breath, smiling at him.

“Here,” you whisper, touching the skin over your racing heart. Jace’s warm eyes are locked on yours as his lips press to your skin. They trail down to your cleavage, leaving soft kisses in a trail.

“Jace,” you say with a sigh.

“Hmm?”

“Thoughts.”

“I’m having a few now," he says.

“Let’s keep them there,” you say, your fingers resting against his temple.

“If they already think we’ve bedded, what’s the harm in actually doing it?” he asks.

“Besides the fact that I would be ruined?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Ruined for who? No one needs to know.”

“Baela and Rhana already think we did, and look how their opinions have changed," you say.

“Your standing with them is the same either way,” he says with a shake of his head, “Whether we do it or not.”

“And what about the man I am to marry?” you ask. Jace’s face falls and he squeezes your hand. “Let’s just stick with thoughts for now,” you say quietly, scooting closer to him.

“What about my thoughts?” he asks. You give him a look and sigh.

“What about your thoughts, Jace?”

“They rarely leave my mind,” he says, looking into your eyes. Just at the intensity in his, you feel your core start to warm. “Especially when I’m in bed, after you’ve left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re already good at keeping these thoughts in," you say. He rolls his eyes.

“Just because I don’t act on them with you, doesn’t mean I don’t act on them at all,” he says lowly. Your brow scrunches, immediately imagining who he might— “Y/N,” he says, cutting off your train of thought, bringing your gaze to his with a hand to your chin. ��I take matters into my own hand.”

“Oh. Oh,” you say, a blush forming on your cheeks.

"Do you ever . . . do anything like that when we part?" he asks. At your intake of breath he smiles. "We don't have to talk about--"

"Yes," you say. His eyes are wide, the tension growing in the silence of the room. "But Jace--"

"I know," he says, a small smile on his face. "Thoughts."

When Jace opens his bedroom door that night, the room behind him is dark, lit only by one candle. He looks tense, his shoulders tight and worry sketched on his brow. He looks as if he needs a release, the same one you desire now, the one that had kept you up.

“Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say. Your eyes glance at his bare chest, and his linger on the thin nightgown you wear.

“What is it?”

"I've been up in my room thinking," you say, making him let out a tut of laughter.

"Sure."

“And I decided I want more than thoughts,” you say breathlessly.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he says, wasting no time to pull you into his room. The door shuts as he presses you up against it, his lips locking onto yours. You moan quietly, the sound muffled in his mouth. He presses his body into yours, making sure you feel how much he has wanted this, needed this.

He drags you into the room, breaking away long enough for you both to catch your breath.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Completely.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Am I?” you ask. He makes a strangled primal sound, tilting his head.

“Y/N, you have no idea,” he says. You smile at him, before putting a hand around the back of his head, pulling him back to your mouth. Where there was urgency before, now that he knows you want this just as much as he does, his movements slow. His kisses are just as passionate, his mouth practically devouring your own, but he moves as if he’s got all the time in the world.

His hands move down your back, catching in the soft fabric you wear. You arch into him, whispering a soft ‘yes’ to a question he hasn’t yet asked. He pulls at the fabric furtively, gripping your waist tightly as he does. He tugs the dress over your head, messing your hair. As the dress drops to the ground, he watches you with hungry eyes.

You miss the feeling of him, his lips and body upon your own, but the way he watches you, never in your life have you felt so beautiful.

The dress folds into a pile at your feet, and you stand bare before him.

“Y/N,” he strains.

“Jace,” you say, moving closer to kiss him again. He moans into the kiss, the movements becoming needier again as he backs you up to his bed. You fall back on it with a bounce, Jace’s eyes never leaving your body. He smiles down at you, laying prone before him. When your eyes flit to the bulge in his pants, his smile grows.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, positioning himself beside you, his body frustratingly not touching yours. He puts a hand on your bare waist, the movement sending chills across your skin. “All I want to do is bury myself into you,” he says, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. They are there for only a moment, and you whimper when he pulls back.

“Why don’t you, then?” you ask.

“Because I want to savor every moment of tonight,” he says, once again kissing you too quickly. He watches your face, the look you give him for keeping you at bay. He grins proudly as he takes your face in his hand and kisses you in the slow, devastating way he knows you want. Instinctively, your naked body turns into his, as you wrap an arm around his neck. Jace’s hands trail down your body, gripping your ass with a squeeze that makes you gasp into his mouth.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, breaking away and then kisses you again, so you don’t have time to respond. His mouth moves across your jaw, and you are about to tell him how much you love this, how much you love him, but then his mouth closes sweetly on your neck, and you only let out a moan.

Jace smiles as he turns you onto your back again, his body laying over yours to keep you pinned there. His mouth on your neck is delicate, so much so that it ignites every nerve along your body. As he kisses and nips carefully, his tongue dancing along your skin, you arch your back, pressing into him. He laughs at the movement, his hand gripping your hip.

“Jace,” you gasp.

He moves down your body, his hands cupping your breasts, kneading gently. Needing to touch him in any way possible, your hands run through his hair. When he lowers himself further and puts his soft lips on your breast, you grip his hair, tugging slightly. Jace smiles against your skin.

“I love you,” you say on a gasp. His tongue flicks at your nipple as his eyes meet yours. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can see the love in his eyes.

You are a bundle of nerves, tension gathering at your core. You need him now, but aren’t exactly sure what you need from him. When you moan his name, Jace seems to know. With heavy eyes, you watch him move even further down your body. He spends a long moment just looking at you laid bare in front of him. His perusal isn’t enough; you miss his touch.

“Jace,” you whine, practically breathless.

“Y/N,” he replies, his breath dancing against your core, making you shiver. Jace smiles, grabbing your ankle when you begin to squirm, desperate for contact again. “I told you,” he says, “I want to take my time with you.” The sound that comes out of you is animalistic, filled with frustration and need. Jace laughs at you, placing a kiss to your thigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before,” he says. “This frustrated.” He kisses you again, an inch closer to where you need him most. You lift your head to look at him. You’re about to say something snarky when his finger gently separates your folds. Immediately, you gasp, arching as he rubs gently.

Ever so slowly, he does pick up the pace, his forefinger circle the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. During his ministrations, his eyes are on your, watching what action makes you wiggle beneath him, which makes you moan.

“Jace,” you cry out, writhing underneath him. Your breathing is becoming more intense, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Not just yet,” he says. You roll your eyes in frustration, whining again. Jace laughs as his lips meet your center. Your entire body arches into him as his tongue moves against your core. Eyes still locked on you, he devours you. Most of the sounds you make are incoherent, fading into the cacophony of your gasps and the low noises Jace makes.

“Fuck, Jace!” you groan when finally, the tension within you releases. Jace smiles but doesn’t move from in between your legs. He rides out your waves of pleasure, his tongue still doing things that have you forgetting your name. When you’ve come down, you release your grip on Jace’s hair, not even realizing you had grabbed it again. He moves up next to you, kissing you slowly. The tase of you is on his lips, which leaves you feeling some type of possessive nature over him.

“Jace, that was—”

“I know,” he says with a smile. His hairline is sweaty, his hair out of control from your touch. He is so beautiful, and after what he just did for you, you never want to leave this bed, to leave his side. You pull him back to your lips, kissing him fiercely. When he breaks away, he kisses the corner of your jaw. You sigh and notice with increasing delight that he has kicked off his pants, and now fists his cock. Just the sight of it sends liquid to your core.

“Jace.”

“Touch me,” he says against your skin, “Please.” You don’t have any time to be nervous about what you’re doing, so great is your want. When your hand wraps around his cock, Jace moans directly into your ear. The sound gives you confidence. You mimic the motion he was doing to himself, tilting his jaw with a finger, so that you can taste the sounds he makes.

Instinctively, it seems that your bodies move together. He moves over you and the look on his face as you continue to touch him is like nothing you’ve ever seen or felt before.

“I need you,” Jace pants.

“Yes,” you say, just as breathlessly. You drop your hand and Jace lines his cock to your center. He rubs against you, slicking himself on your folds. You whimper slightly, already over sensitized.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Jace says, his warm eyes meeting yours. You nod, completely trusting him.

When he presses into you, the two of you let out twin cries of pleasure. You grip his shoulders as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. He moves inside of you slowly, his eyes watching your face in awe.

“Jace,” you say, “Fuck.” He laughs at the curse, something he has never heard from your lips before tonight.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, gripping your waist as he picks up his pace.

“Yeah?” you ask, arching into him.

“You’re perfect,” he says. He grabs hold of your leg, bending it so he can feel you even deeper.

You aren’t sure how you are even breathing, everything that comes out of your mouth is a gasp or moan or his name. He is slowly dissolving that way, too, his movements becoming sloppier, rougher. Every thrust inside of you is another pang of pleasure, but still, the tension builds inside of you.

Jace’s mouth has been savaging your neck and shoulder, but when his breath becomes more strained, he whispers in your ear, “Touch yourself. I want to feel your release.” At that moment, you would have jumped out the window if he told you to. You do as he asks, sliding your hand between your bodies, touching yourself the way he had before.

“Like that?” he asks. Your other hand clings to his back, scraping softly.

“Not as much as I liked your mouth,” you say back. Jace moans into your ear, his pace picking up. You match it, and quickly the two of you cry out as you come around him. Jace’s release fills you as he rests on top of you, his breathing heavy. For a long moment, you stay like that, just catching your breaths, prone in each other’s arms.

When he turns to look at you, you both let out a breathy laugh. You brush back his sweaty curls and kiss him.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“I love you.” He kisses you once. He pulls out of you, and you breathe in at the loss. Jace looks smug as he flops down beside you. For a little while, you just lay there, cooling down. But then, you don’t want to be away from him for any longer, and curl into his arms. He is sweaty, like you must be, too, but you don’t care as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.

“Let’s never leave this bed,” you say with a sigh, placing a kiss over his beating heart. He meets your gaze with a smile.

“Deal.

There is a goddess in bed next to him. A naked goddess, in his bed. He must have been dreaming.

He had dreamed of this. Dreamed and fantasized about you, late into the night with his hand around his cock.

But the real thing, feeling your body under his, getting to touch you, it turned him on now, just remembering the night before. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft moan. Jace remembers the sounds you made last night, louder and more fervent in his ear. He remembers the way you arched your back, pressing your breasts into him, your hands on his body, and the taste of you.

Twice the night before, he had taken you, his desire for you still too great after that first time. Now even, you are peacefully asleep on his chest, your long hair laid out on his pillow, and he still cannot stop thinking about kissing you, tasting you, fucking you again.

Last night had not been his first, but it might as well have been. He had never felt like this before. Everything he had ever wanted was in his arms, and he vowed right then that he would do anything to keep you like this.

He knows he has been watching you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to care. You shift in his arms, another delicious hum from your lips. When you say his name, your throat is scratchy.

“Yes?” he asks gently.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. Your eyes open then, immediately locking onto his. Jace smiles as he puts a hand to your chin, tilting your mouth to meet his. You sigh into the kiss, gently parting his lips, and Jace’s cock responds. He feel like a much younger man, so quickly aroused. You break the kiss first, biting your lip to keep your grin at bay.

“Morning,” you say.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” you say, relaxing back into his arms. He pulls you in closer, wanting and needing to feel your body on his.

“How did you sleep?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m not sure I did.”

“Were you watching me the whole night?” you ask with a laugh.

“So what if I was?” he says, squeezing you playfully.

“I assumed you’d be exhausted after all the activity last night,” you say quietly. Jace smirks as he brings his lips to yours.

“Well, it gave me time to think about everything I want to do this morning.”

“I did, too,” you say, “But I still got some sleep.” You kiss his cheek softly, moving across his skin in a trail of kisses, until you bite on his earlobe. The sound he lets out makes you laugh against his skin, goosebumps appearing.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks breathlessly.

“Something I didn’t get to do last night,” you say, “But I’m not sure I’ll be good at it.” He groans in spite of himself, low in his throat. Your lips meet his in a rougher kiss, a sign that you are fully awake now.

“Y/N,” he says on a breath, pulling back from you.

“I love you,” you say quickly. The sight of his smile makes one grow on your face.

“I love you,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And there is nothing you can do that I won’t absolutely love.”

“Okay,” you say with a smile. Eyes locked on his, your hand travels down his chest to his cock, already hard for you. “Jace,” you whisper, delight on your face at the expression on his.

“Yes, love?” he asks breathlessly, groaning when your hand slides over the head of his cock.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly. He smiles as he starts to say a response, but you kiss him before he can.

“Y/N,” he moans, his eyes closed, his brow sweaty. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Partially. Just – it didn’t feel fair that you got to taste me but I didn’t get to taste ou.” The laugh he lets out is strained. You move upright, kissing Jace once before taking your hand off of him. You kiss down his neck slowly, remembering how he tormented you the night before. His hands grip your body, holding you flush to him, but letting you do what you’d like. You move down his chest, your hands and mouth exploring every inch of his body.

When you move down to his hips, you look up at him with a smirk.

“Let me know if I do anything wrong,” you say, kissing his shaft softly.

“Y/N, you couldn’t.”

“You say that, but—”

“What part of this,” he says, motioning to his cock, “Makes you think I wouldn’t like anything you do?”

“Just . . . thoughts, I guess,” you say with a smile.

“Try,” he says lowly, “And see for yourself just how much I love everything you do.”

“Fine,” you say, and when your mouth closes around him, Jace takes your hair in his hands, his moans loud, and falling closer to his release as he falls completely in love with you.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable X - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: smut and fluff, pure fluff 

Author’s note: omfg guyssss, I can’t believe this series has come to an end! I had so much fun writing it and I hope y’all had just as much fun reading it! Thanks for all the love and support you guys have given me throughout it all! Hope this is a fitting ending! 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part X: The Finale 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you sure about this?”

You looked at Azriel, at the vulnerability in his warm hazel eyes, at the love and adoration they held but the lingering insecurity dampened it just enough that you turned to him fully. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Azriel,” you whispered, gently. 

“I just don’t want you to feel rushed,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to make this decision before you’re ready. I’ve waited five hundred years for you, I can wait more. I can wait until the sun and moon collide, princess, as long as you’ll be mine in the end.” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You were standing outside the doors that would lead to the Priestess’ chapel. Just a few steps away from being mated—from being tied together for all of eternity. 

“I’ve waited enough. We’ve waited enough,” you replied. “I want this, Azriel. I want you. I can scream it from the rooftops if you wish. Nothing will change my mind about you.” 

His lips twitched into a smile. “Okay, okay. Then, let’s not keep the Priestess waiting.” 

He pushed open the doors to the chapel, holding them open for you as you strode inside, the small train of your dress trailing behind you as you went. Your mother had sewn you this dress before she died, for this very moment. It was pure white with a long, sheer draping cape covered in silver diamonds. The bodice had a sheer underbust with those same diamonds carefully placed to make a beautiful, intricate pattern. The skirt fell to the floor, shimmering in the faelights of the chapel also covered in diamonds. It was beautiful, truly, and Azriel’s breath had been stolen away the moment he had seen you in it. You looked like the goddess of the moon, herself. 

Your brother, who you allowed to help you get ready since you had decided on a private mating ceremony, had teared up at the sight, himself. Rhysand had given you a loving speech before sending you and Azriel off to your ceremony knowing he wouldn’t see the two of you for at least a few weeks as you would leave immediately after for your mating honeymoon. 

Azriel himself was dressed in all black formal wear, finely made and tailored to his body perfectly. Your mouth had gone dry when he had stepped out of the shadows, his dark hair tousled and looking like a true Angel of Death. The dark side of your moon. 

Standing here now before the Priestess as she read out verses of love and unity, you couldn’t focus on anything but your mate. He stared back at you with the same intensity, his wings held out proudly and his shadows encasing the two of you, swirling around in delight. 

“You may say your vows, now,” the Priestess declared, shutting her book and bringing out the ribbon that was to be tied around your wrists and hands. Azriel held out his hand for you and you took it, holding them up for the Priestess who began to wrap the ribbon around them. 

“I have prayed to the stars every night since the moment I fell in love with you, Azriel, that a day might come where you’d be mine and I’d be yours,” you breathed out. “Despite all that stood between us, the magic that kept you from me all these years, I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that this was our ending. I will love you until I no longer exist, through death and all that comes after.” 

“There would be no shadow without light,” Azriel whispered, resting his forehead against yours as you stared up at him. “And you have been my light, princess. I live and breathe for you. My body, my soul, my mind, were made to love you and only you. Because you are the light in whose shadows I exist in. You are the guiding star that I will follow until the end of all things. I vow to love and cherish you for all of eternity. Nothing shall keep us apart from this moment on. No magic, no God, no death can separate us. You are mine as I am yours.” 

You blinked the tears in your eyes away as the Priestess finally tied off the ribbon with a smile. “As witness to your love, I bless thee with the sanctity of the Mother and all that is holy. May your love serve as a reminder of the good this world can offer. You may seal your vows with a kiss.” 

And so you did. The kiss Azriel gave you was full of love and passion—a promise to all that he planned to give you. The Priestess held out a small tray with the pastry you had baked for him—a small pear tart that you knew was his favorite sweet treat. She winked as you took it from her before winnowing away to allow you privacy. 

And the Gods knew you’d need it if the heated look Azriel was giving you could be seen from heaven.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You barely made it through the door to the villa the two of you would be staying in for an indefinite amount of time before Azriel’s lips crashed against yours. You met him with the same intensity as he pressed you against the wall, caging you in with his taut body. 

He groaned as you parted your lips for him, allowing him the chance to taste you—to claim your mouth as his. One of his hands stayed against the wall while the other traveled down the length of your body, somehow finding your leg in the mess of your skirt and hooking it around him. 

Still, there were far too many layers between the two of you. Your body was on fire with want, with need. Sparks were igniting in your lower stomach, a terrible ache that only Azriel could soothe was taking over. The mating bond was singing its beautiful tune. 

“Bed,” you managed to mumble out between his kisses. “Now.” 

His shadows encased you once more, taking the two of you to the lush bedroom upstairs. You pushed him towards the bed but he stopped you, pulling away from you as you whined in disapproval. 

“No teasing,” you pouted. 

Azriel grinned. The sight of it was so breathtaking. 

“I assure you, princess, I have no intention other than ravishing you tonight.” 

He twisted you so your back was to him and he gently began to unbutton the bodice of your dress, pressing a kiss each time a new inch of skin was exposed to him. You melted into his delicate touch, allowing him to undress you completely until you were naked before him. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he growled against your skin, pressing kisses down the length of your back until he was on his knees. He placed his hands on your bare waist and turned you around to face him, staring up at you with a reverence that had your heart jumping in your chest. 

He kissed your stomach, hugging your body with his arms. You could feel his muscles flexing—his hazel eyes so dilated, they appeared black—and you knew he was holding himself back for a moment. 

“There is no part of you that I am going to leave untouched, princess,” he groaned, his eyes trailing down your body, full of hunger. “Now that I can touch you, I’m going to make you wholly mine.” 

“What are you waiting for?” You whispered, so full of need. Your words had the desired effect, his restraint finally slipping. He pushed you backwards until your knees hit the bed and you fell down on the soft cushion, your hair fanning around your head like a halo. 

Azriel rested on his forearms above you, capturing your lips again with a new frenzy that left you panting. A hand slipped underneath your neck, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss, caressing your tongue with his. He tasted as good as sin.

His lips began to trail down your throat, sucking on the tender skin and leaving love marks in their wake. Your hands slipped into his hair, fisting his dark locks between your fingers and he continued his path down your body, staying true to his own words that no part of you would go untouched tonight. 

He explored every inch of you, leaving you to moan and squirm underneath him. You arched into his touch, wanting more. So much more. 

“Azriel, please,” you whined as the ache between your legs became unbearable. Azriel looked up at you with his dark eyes from where he had taken your breast into his mouth. 

“Keep begging, princess,” he growled. “You will not rush me.” 

Your head fell back against the pillow as he started his ministrations on your breast again, using his hand to caress the other one. His kisses were soft but his hands were not. Not as they groped and squeezed you with a bruising grip that only heated you further. As if having handfuls of you was simply not enough. 

His mouth traveled down your stomach, licking and biting a path on your skin until he pulled away, standing up at the edge of the bed. You rose onto your elbows, eyes glazed with lust. 

Azriel drank in the sight of you laying bare before him, a muscle in his jaw flexing, his hands itching to touch you again. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “My mate. My love. All mine.” 

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, sounding far too needy. “Please, take me.” 

He leaned over, running his hands down the length of your body before he pressed a kiss against your belly again. “My mate.”

Another kiss between your hips. “Mine.”

He fell to his knees, pushing your legs apart so he could kiss the inside of your thigh. “All mine.” 

And then he hooked his arms around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You let out a gasp, raising onto your elbows again to look at him. He kissed the back of your knee before moving his way up your thigh. 

“I need to taste you, princess.” His voice was a near whine as he left marks all along your leg—sucking and biting. You moaned his name repeatedly, begging and begging him just like he wanted. 

That set him off because a moment later, he was devouring you with a hunger only a mate could have. Your wanton moans had him palming himself through his pants, trying to relieve some pressure. He sucked and licked your core, not stopping until you fell over the edge, his name coming out of your mouth like a prayer.  

You were still coming down from the high as he made his way back up to you, kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. You pulled back, grabbing his face in your hand. Gods, he was so beautiful. Everything about him was so beautiful. 

Your heart fluttered at the love in his eyes, you were smiling without even realizing it. You kissed him as you reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Take this off. Now.”

“Anything for you, princess.” He smiled against your lips and helped you undress him as fast as he could until he was as naked as you. 

You could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach. 

You ran your hands down his chided chest, raking your nails over his skin. He groaned at your touch and you pressed a kiss to his jaw, his throat, enjoying the noises you were causing him to make. Your hands continued their way down his body until you were about to finally grasp his cock but he grabbed your wrists in one hand and slammed them into the mattress above your head. 

You let out a noise of displeasure.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Azriel groaned. “I need you. Now.” 

You hissed as he took his cock in his hands and lined it up against your entrance. He hovered for a second, glancing at you, seeking permission one last time. 

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

Azriel held himself up over you with a hand on either side of your head, lightly brushing his lips against yours. He slowly slid inside of you, inch by inch. Savoring the way you wrapped around him. You groaned, wrapping your hands around his biceps, your nails digging into his skin at the slight pain. 

But the pain was worth the pleasure. Was worth the feeling of your bodies becoming one. You wanted that feeling to never end. 

He stopped once he was buried inside of you, allowing you a moment to adjust as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin. “You are mine. My mate, my love.”

“And you are mine,” you whispered back. 

“Until the end,” he agreed. 

He started to move, pulling all the way out and thrusting slowly back in. Azriel let out a curse and bit down on your neck, his canines piercing your skin. He licked the new wound as he pulled back out and thrust again. 

“Gods, please,” you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you. 

“No gods here to beg, princess,”Azriel growled. “Just me.” 

He fully unleashed himself then, his restraint snapping, as he lost himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him. You closed your eyes, melting into the mattress. He took every part of you, claimed every inch of you with him. You weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. 

With every frenzied thrust came a declaration of how much he loved you, how good you felt, how beautiful you looked with him buried inside of you, between his growls of pleasure. You became hyper aware of every brush of his skin, the feeling of his warm breath against your neck. 

The pleasure inside of you grew and grew with every stroke of his cock until his name was slipping from your mouth with a string of curses and pleas. Your hands trailed his body, down his back until you reached his wings. He groaned as your fingertips brushed against the cool membrane, his pace quickening. 

His thrusts grew more frenzied at your touch as the bond shined like starlight between the two of you. It was blinding, all consuming. 

“I love you,” Azriel murmured between his kisses and it was those words that finally sent you over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, your darkness taking over the room as you reached a high you’d never felt before. 

At the feel of you coming on his cock, tightening and pulsing around him, Azriel fell over the edge right after you with one final thrust, burying himself inside of you as a hot stream of his cum filled you so thoroughly.

Both of you were panting as you came down from that high. Azriel collapsed on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging you to him. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart that beat to the same rhythm as yours. The same rhythm of your mating bond’s mesmerizing song. 

Azriel lazily ran his hand up and down your spine. His touch was soothing and you never wanted it to stop. Not when you had once been untouchable to him. No, you wanted to feel his skin against yours at every waking moment and you knew he felt the same way by the way he clung to you now. 

“I love you,” you whispered, tracing over his tattoos with a finger. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled into your hair. “You are my everything. I’m never letting you go again now that I have you.” 

“Good,” you smiled, propping yourself up to look at him. “Because I'm never letting you go either.” 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

100 years later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your heart was warm as you sat cuddled against Azriel, watching your family open their solstice presents. Your hands were intertwined, as they always were since the day the two of you had your mating ceremony. Azriel had never considered himself a publicly affectionate person but after centuries of not being able to touch you, he would never stop now that he could—no matter who was around. 

Rhysand and Feyre sat on a settee across from you guys. Nyx and Selene stood beside them, smiling down at their two younger siblings as they ripped open their presents from them. Cassian and Nesta were on a couch next to them, a bundled up babe held in her arms. 

Mor and Emerie were giggling in the corner together, like they were in their own little world. Elain stood with Lucien, three younglings that shared the same red hair running around her legs with laughter. Even Amren was smiling, sat with Varian. 

You placed a hand on your bulging tummy. You were due any day now with your first babe with your mate. Azriel placed a scarred hand over yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your belly in a protective cocoon of sorts and you batted at them with a huff. 

You had thought your brother had gone overboard with protecting Feyre all the times she was pregnant but Azriel by far took the cake. 

The baby wiggled, causing both of you to gasp lightly at the feel. 

“I can’t wait to hold him,” Azriel murmured to you. “He’s going to be beautiful. Just like you.” 

You smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “I think he’s going to look just like his papa.”

Azriel chuckled, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. He had been fussing over you and the baby since day one. He had built the entire nursery himself, with his own hands, claiming he didn’t trust anyone else to make things for your child. 

“Either way he’ll be perfect,” Azriel said, kissing the side of your head. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, lovingly rubbing your belly. “He will.” 

And three days later, the next chapter of yours and Azriel’s love story began. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The end. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[vanya-evergreen]

Batfam x reader platonic concept

But make it over throwing royal’s with reader as a royal and Batfam as revolutionaries AU (with some fantasy elements that aren't expanded on)

CW: Neglect, Violence, blood. War like topics (revolution)

Something to note: in the real world timeframe I would put this in the late 1910s to early 1920s. The cars are faster than the actual cards of that timeframe because of fanfic logic!

Ps, I would love to write more of this (i already have another 1000 i am keeping to myself)

The soft patterns of rain on the roof was the loudest sound in your room. You lay on a bed, arms locked to your sides, staring up to the ceiling of the tall room. It was opulent to say the least, but that was the last thing you would think of. You were stuck in a cycle of memories that felt like a lifetime ago, yet it was only a few months ago that all of what you knew was gone. Not that you missed much of it.

There was once that if you had even whispered a complaint, it would've been fixed by a servant before you could dwell on it. Now it would just fall on deaf ears. You had alway been pacified with gifts, trips, or even new lessons to learn. It was one of the many benefits you got from being of royal descent, when that had mattered. You were happy with what you had but you still craved more. You wanted the unconditional Familial love that every other child seemed to get.

Slowly, you began to watch the families at garden parties, grand balls, and even going through daily life. You can’t help but staring as the parent lovingly held their children, or how they would even just watch them from afar. If you would turn to your parents, they always had their backs to you. You screamed and fought for their attention. You cried quietly every time they forced another toy or trip onto you. Sadly, it turned out to be much worse for you, everyone thought you were spoiled and ignorant because of your public fits. You never had an understanding of how parents were meant to love a child, until you met him.

The Dark knight.

You had met him briefly once before, given he was an army commander. It was a formality really, but you did remember his suit. It looked oddly like a bat with his cape. Still the Dark Knight was skilled with the sword, even with the advancing technology. You always heard whispers of his real name but they were never loud enough to make it your ears.

You were given sword lessons as another class to keep you busy. ‘I always did want to try the sword’ was just a pathetic attempt at ignoring your ugly truth. You were only 10 when you figured that your parents were pushing you off on all these tutors in hope that they would keep you busy enough to stay away from them. You still remember feeling the love you had for your parents slipping through your fingers like sand. You had stopped throwing fits too, you began to try to hold your emotions closer to your heart. All of this is probably what made it so easy for you to get attached to the Dark knight.

Your first lesson was rough. You had been rudely awakened at an unfamiliar time and when you made it out to the training grounds you could only see slivers of light on the horizon. You were forced to clean your tools and even some of his. You complained but he only remained quiet watching you with a heavy eye. You kept your mouth shut after that, finishing without much more complaint.

When you finished, he made you run laps. You wanted to whine about it, but you remembered knowing it wouldn't do anything, so you ran. Lap after lap, you always felt his eyes on you no matter where you went. He remained silent unless it was to tell you to keep going. It wasn't until the sun had fully risen that he had made you stop, letting you get water. You couldn't help but be wreathing with anger as you sat drinking your water.

“Sword lesson my-” you began to whisper under your heavy breaths, until a warm gloved hand was placed atop of your head. You shot your head up to where the head came from. It was the Dark knight, without his helmet.

“Good job kid.” He looked at you in your eyes, you couldn't help but let your emotions slip for a moment. His eyes were so kind, but his face was worn. It was the face of a man who had led a hard life, but still had compassion for others. You gripped your water, you wanted him to say it again

You continued the lesson for another 2 hours but it felt too short for you. Even if he said you weren't ready for a sword, You couldn't wait for the next lesson.

That is how it started and would go for the next 6 years. Twice a week you would meet with him to learn, but every day you spent hours practicing to impress him at your next lesson. He and you had bonded, or so you thought. You learned his true name, Bruce Wayne. he let you call him by his name, you tried to offer him the same courtesy but he refused, it hurt you but you understood.

This was your way of life, this was the happiest you ever were. You thought you had the love you craved the most. You thought that.

It was your 16th birthday. You were meant to focus on the party that was held every year for you but there you were happily running over to the training grounds to see Bruce. Ever since you met him, he always had some form of present for you on your birthday. It was the only present you looked forward to every year.

You stopped at the entrance when you saw Bruce with two other people. Diana Prince and Clark Kent, they were commanders just like Bruce. You always saw them together when they were in the same room, but why were they meeting here today? They looked like it was a serious matter so you hid behind the stables.You crouched down and slowly crawled to the end of the stable closest to them to listen in. You thought maybe you could scare them, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of the previous time you tried to scare Bruce and failed.

“A week from today we will take the capital.” Bruce said matter of factly. You breathe hitched, you heard murmurs through the walls about a revolution, but you didn't think it was real. Much less Bruce was a part of it. “And arrest the royal family and their descents.” That isn’t when you broke, no you didn’t care if they did that.

“And we can finally return to our families.” Clark added. This is when you broke, the mental image you had created in your delusion, the image of Bruce seeing you as one of his kids, shattered into a million pieces right in front of you. You quietly got up, you acted faster than your mind could think.

You jumped out from behind the stables, “Boo!” you shouted, while you wore your best smile. They all flinched at your sudden appearance. Finally you got them. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You beamed while scratching the back of your head. They all looked at you in horror as you walked closer.

“How much did you hear, your highness?” Diana began reaching for her lasso on her hip, while trying to keep a pleasant expression.

“Nothing beyond something about going back to your families” You laughed. “ I assume you heard about the holiday I asked the king and Queen to give the troops after my birthday.” You could see as they relaxed, believing your words.

“Is there a reason you came here, your highness?” Clark stepped closer to give you a kind smile placing a hand on your shoulder, he always was kind to you even when you threw fits.

“I always stop by on my birthday.” You take a quiet glance at Bruce, with guilt flickering in his eyes. Y our heart sunk further into your chest. “I was saying hello to my teacher, before going on with my busy day.” You moved your eyes off of Bruce, and on to Clark. You tried to ignore his heavy gaze, your hands were shaking.

“Of course…” Clark and Diana look at Bruce. He gestured for them to leave. “Well Happy birthday, your highness.” Clark bowed before leaving, as did Diana. You watched them leave until they were out of sight. You clasped your hand together, the shaking stopping but your rate grew.

“Your highness,” Bruce’s soft voice boomed in your head . Bruce’s eyes weighed heavily on you, You were barely able to maintained eye contact. “I got you a gift.” He pulled out a small rectangle box wrapped in expansive sliver fabric with an extravagant white lace ribbon tied around it.

It was like every other year before, a small gift that meant the world to you. You, normally, would eagerly take it from him with the biggest grin, and opened it in front of him, thanking him no matter the gift. That year though, you hesitated, you didn’t give a wide grin, nor did you open it immediately.

“Thank you, Bruce.” You stared at the gift, playing with the white ribbon in your hand. “I really appreciate the gifts you have gotten me.” You sighed faintly. Bruce was stunted by this. “I hope you enjoy your time off with your family.” You let out a shaking breathe.

“What about your-” Bruce reached out to touch your shoulder, it was natural for the two of you.

“Don’t worry about lessons next week,” You grabbed his hand before he touched your shoulder “It’s fine if we miss a week. We alway have the after one, right?” you looked at him with a knowing look. He face dropped, he understood that you had heard more than you would say. “I hope to see you later Bruce.” You let go of his hand as you walked away from him leaving him behind in his silence.

You didn’t open that gift that day, even when you were in your room. You spent the rest of the day distracted. There were plenty of things you could’ve done about your impending arrest, but you also knew that would lead to Bruce's death. You didn’t want that, even if he only saw you as a royal, you still viewed him as someone would view their father. So you remained quiet.

The party came and went. It was the same as it always was, many gifts that were worth an average person's salary for ten years, and even proposal letters from noble families that wouldn’t matter in a week’s time. After that night you started to count down the days. Your memories of that week are blurry now, all of the days bleed into each other, until that day of the plan came.

You didn’t leave your room that day, even when you heard the screams of your family members. You waited, seated in a chair by the fire you had the servant light before going to bed. The box Bruce gave you is still unopened on your desk. You didn’t want to open it and pretend like everything was still the same.

You got up as you heard the soldiers get closer, opening every door along the way, until they reached your door. You opened the door before they could barge in. You came face to face with the helmet of The Dark knight. The blood of those who fought back dripped on the floor off of his suit. You step aside to let them in.

The Dark knight was the only one to step in, “Continue moving without me.” You tensed up as he ordered his subordinates to not follow him in. “Your highness-”

“There is no longer a need to address me like that.” You hummed, closing the door behind him. “After all, my heritage won’t matter by sunrise tomorrow.” You stood by the edge of your bed, looking out of the window.

The Dark knight was across the room from you, staying in front of the fireplace. You wouldn't meet his eyes, as he stared at you through his helmet. He looked around the room, he noticed the box on your desk still wrapped neatly. “You didn’t open it.” He picked up the box from the desk, and looked back at you.

“I thought it was inappropriate to open it, considering what was bound to happen.” You Pointed your head back down to the ground,

“You didn’t try to stop us.” He kept the box with him, and stepped closer to you.

“I couldn’t bring myself to,” You confessed, “I knew what it would lead to if I did.” Even then you couldn't bear the thought of him dying because of you.

“Do you understand why we are doing this?” He stopped two feet away from you, and took off his helmet. You wanted to see the face was making but you knew if you saw his face you couldn’t help but break all over again in front of him.

“Not fully,” You weakly replied “but I know that if you and the other commander are in on it then it is for the betterment of the world.” you clenched your hands. You tried to be mad at him but it was hindered by how you saw him. To you, you knew him as a man of justice, who wouldn’t needlessly create waves unless he saw necessary. You put your hands behind your back, intertwining them together.

The Dark Knight couldn’t understand you, but you knew what his thought was “I didn’t run because you taught me to stand with the side I chose, and by blood I am forced to choose this side.” You looked up from the floor finally. His face seemed almost desperate for a better answer, you could only return a sympathy nod with closed eyes.

The room remained silent for a moment, before you offered your wrist forward to make it easier to cuff them, he didn't. Instead he stepped behind you, guiding you out in front of the palace with a firm hand on your shoulder. You kept your eye forward ignoring the blood splattered across the floor and walls. The walk through the halls were eerie and quiet, they still haunt you to this day.

At the front of the palace each member in the royal house kneeled with their hands bound behind their backs, in rows separated from the servants. The Dark knight didn't seem to be guiding you to the royals until someone grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from him, you saw him for a short moment longer. Maybe if you weren't so tired you could've seen him reaching out for you as he was swarmed by his cohorts.

The soldier was much harsher compared to The Dark knight. They forced you down by your parents, who were bloody and bruised, they must've fought. Their heads hung low, they didn't even try to lift them up to look at you. You watched as Clark walked to stand center in front of palace residences.

“To the royal family, you are found guilty of tyranny and causing anguish to the lands of…” Clark went on about the endless sins your family and you by extension committed. “Now we will go down the line to give you your sentencing.”

You closed your eyes, listened to cries for mercy by the ones you assumed were to be put in prison for life and the quiet sobs of the ones who got less. Clark stopped when he passed you, You were the only one sitting up with free arms. He whispered something to the person following him, before moving on. two soldiers picked you by your arms from ground and brought you back into the palace.

You might've been more confused if you didn't pass out the moment they shoved you back into your room.

The weeks following after that there was a surgeon of royalist nobels trying to take back the monarchy, but they were swiftly dealt with each time they would arise according to the maids that would pass your room.. You spent those weeks confined to your room, at the former palace, you tried to ask why you weren't in the prison, but none of the guards standing outside of your room wouldn't reply.

It was 2 months later that you finally left your room to be brought in front of the new leaders of your country. Diana, Clark and Him. It was a small meeting with only you and the three of them.

“Tell us _, why do you think that you are here?” Diana spoke in a loud yet caring tone.

“I am here to finally receive my sentence.” You mumbled.

“No,” Clark interjected what would've evolved into a rant. “We are curious to know why you did nothing to stop the revelation.”

“I couldn't live with the consequences if I had stopped you.” You replied flatly.

“and those consequences would be, what?”

“The continued suffering of the country” they gestured for you to go on “and the loss of your lives.”

“And are you aware that means you betrayed the royal family?”Clark retorted. Bruce leaned forward.

“Yes.” You wanted it to be over already.

“Then you will not receive a sentence, but you will live under surveillance.” Clark stood up from his seat and offered you a hand. You took the hand, you could live under surveillance.

“Here at the… well whatever this was turned into.” You questioned, Clark shook his head no. “Then where?”

“With me.” Bruce finally spoke up. Your body ran cool, as a sinking feeling bloomed in your stomach. You would've been fine anywhere else but with him. You had no choice.

“Fine.” You looked away from him.

That day, your clothes, swords, and other trinkets were packed and off to Gotham where the now infamous Wayne manor resides. While you rode in front with Bruce in his Car. The ride was quiet, along with unpacking the car. You broke the silence to say thank you for help, before taking your belongings inside of the foyer. Serval people were waiting, but not for you.

“Who are you?” A boy, younger than you, glared as you stood there awkwardly holding you things. You were going to respond but Bruce came in behind you. “Father, who is this this person?” So these people were his kids.

“Damian, that is not how you greet someone.” oh. You heard of Damian when you and Bruce would take breaks from your sword lessons. He always liked talking about his family, there was even a point where you though maybe they could see you as family too, but not now. “I am _ _” You lowered your head already knowing what comes next.x .

“A member of that trantical family? Bruce, why are they here?” A boy, probably only a few years older than you, almost screeched.

“I will explain it later, Tim” Bruce took your things from you and tried to push past them, only to be blocked by a girl around the same age as time. “Cassandra please move.

“No, we need to know now.” Damian demanded, as him and Tim cornered Bruce with Cassandra.

“Alfred,” Alfred, who was standing off the side came forward and took your things back from Bruce. “Take them to their new room.”

“Of course Master Bruce.” Alfred turned to you “Please, follow me this way.” He smiled politely. Your arms tense as the You followed behind quietly, walking up the stairs to 3rd floor, back into the furthest corner of the house, the perfect reflection of the distance between you and Your new household.

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

MOLD HOW DID YOU KNOW. HOW DID YOU KNOWHSDUFSNDS 😳🫵

Gotta get festive~ ❄✨

[blindmagdalena]

I know you've done vampire Homelander before, but after looking (totally not obsessively) at various Antony Starr/Homelander gifs, how do you see canon normal Homelander reacting to his so/us/reader pointing out his sharp teeth and how vampiric they are? Perhaps pointing it out around Halloween👀. I can see a bunch of scenarios but I'd love your input.

"You could be a vampire," you say, swiping lazily through the costume listings on Vought Prime on your phone.

You've made a dozen suggestions already, but he's shot down every single one of them. You're beginning to lose hope that Homelander will be dressed as anything other than "The Homelander" for your first Halloween together.

"You already wear a cape, a high collar, slicked back hair. All we need is a palette swap."

Sitting on the couch next to you, your legs draped over his lap, he gives your thigh a pensive rolling tap with his fingers.

"I thought the vampire fad was over."

"No, vampires are timeless. Plus, you even have the fangs."

"I do not have fangs."

Like Dracula rising from his coffin, you sit straight up, staring him dead in the eye.

"Yes, you do."

His eyes narrow a touch. You can see him running his tongue along his teeth behind his lips.

"See?" you prompt. "You could definitely pierce my carotid with those bad boys."

"You sound like you've thought about it," he says, amusement steadily replacing his initial offense.

"Maybe I've fantasized a little," you say, the words more a tease than a simple admission. "Like I said, you've got the look down pat. You have super strength, you fly, you hate the smell of garlic. You're just a very... patriotic vampire."

He laughs, giving you a perfect flash of those very sharp canines you do so adore. He grabs your legs and slides you over his lap like you weigh nothing at all, bringing you properly into it.

"Tell me about this fantasy."

You slip one arm around his neck while you gesture with the other, setting the scene.

"Alright, so, picture this: it's nighttime—obviously, because vampire"—

"Obviously," he echoes very seriously.

—"and I'm on a rooftop alone."

"Why are you on a rooftop at night?"

"I'm sorry, are you already poking plot holes in my hyper specific 'vampire you' fantasy that you asked to hear?"

He puts up a gloved hand like a white flag of surrender. "Continue."

"Thank you. So, rooftop at night. It's cold, I look very demure and vulnerable—stop laughing—and perfect for a midnight snack. That's when I hear you, first the billow of your cape in the crisp wind, followed by your deep, velvety voice as you lure me in with, 'Chillin' all by your lonesome, beautiful?'"

Homelander bursts into laughter at that. You grin, his laugh causing something warm to blossom in your chest.

"That's fucking lame," he says, teeth as sharp as ever in that wolfish smile of his. "Why did you make vampire me so lame?"

"I mean, my love. If the boot fits," you say slyly, cupping either side of his face.

"See, I don't think I would say anything at all," he tells you, taking hold of your wrists. He pulls your hands in so that he can wrangle them both into the grip of one hand, and then turns you away from him, putting your back to his chest.

To this day, the ease with which he manhandles you still leaves you breathless. The strength lurking in him is unlike anything you've ever known.

"I would just... creep up behind you. Silent," he says, quieter now, his hot breath tickling your neck. "You wouldn't even know I was there until..."

You suck in a sharp breath of your own as you feel his teeth graze your throat, goosebumps erupting over every inch of skin.

"The bite."

He sinks his teeth in, the sharp sting of it jolting a gasp out of you that fades unexpectedly into a moan.

Holy fuck.

He didn't break skin, but you're sure he came close. He drags his tongue over the fading indents left in his wake, the heat of it sending a shiver up your spine.

"One bite is all it takes, and then I'm hooked. Instead of suckin' you dry, I keep you. My own sweet, demure little juice box."

"Eugh, you had me going until juice box," you say, but your trembling voice fails to convey the disinterest you intend.

You feel the shape of his grin against your neck as it widens.

"Your pulse disagrees. It's gone south."

"You're one to talk. Your cup feels awfully stiff," you say, grinding back against him for good measure. It satisfies you to hear him suck in a sharp little breath.

"Bedroom?" he murmurs, the word nearly lost in the kisses he's peppering along your still-stinging neck.

"Bedroom," you agree, giving a little yelp at how quickly he propels himself up into the air, flying more than he's walking.

Once Halloween rolls around, some remark that putting a little fake blood in the corners of Homelander's mouth doesn't constitute a costume, but you don't care.

You're plenty satisfied with your vampire boyfriend.