#it's rendering her breathless and trembling

[shomatoriashi]

08/19/24; 04:41pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ lovemaking + aftercare with them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

thanks to @/nyashykyunnie for her input for zayne and rafayel.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus has spent hours mounting you, thrusting his cock in and out of you as you became a bit dazed in response. as you made your slow descent into madness, (your mind and body so drunk off the pleasure sylus had given you), you take a moment to admire this devastating man.

a light sheen of sweat was seen across his powerful body, letting out gasps and grunts of your name as his eyes hungrily look down at the area where he remained connected with you. just seeing the way you take in his cock so well was enough to make the onychinus leader tremble, the sheer amount of pleasure he felt coursing through his veins being immeasurable.

as if spurred on by your moans and the way your pretty, manicured nails grip at the sheets, sylus lets out a growl of your name, tossing one of your legs over his shoulders, pumping his cock with fervor in and out of your slick heat before stilling his hips completely just moments later, forcing your cunt to take in all he had to offer the moment he shoots his seed inside of you.

you moan at the sudden sensation of sylus filling you to the brim with his cum, feeling it mixing together with your own juices, leaving you panting. sylus places a chaste kiss against your cheek before landing against your body. he places the entirety of his weight on you, leaving you aching and breathless as you writhed beneath him.

“sy… please, you’re too heavy for this.”

his tired and weak chuckles were heard against your ear, and you felt the way he gently bites down against the lobe of your ear. “aw, my poor kitten, did i wear you out?”

you let out a huff in response, refusing to answer him, (yet the heat felt against your cheeks and the notable ache between your legs were more than enough proof of sylus’s relentless lovemaking). with a shake of his head, your lover gently holds down your hips before pulling out of you, earning a deep sigh from you.

knowing that you had been thoroughly rendered unable to walk by him, sylus gently takes you into his embrace, humming as he saunters toward your shared bathroom. your eyes take in the marble onyx tub, watching as sylus turns on the faucet, filling it with hot water before pouring a bottle of your favorite scented bubbles into the mix.

once your bath was prepared, sylus gently places you inside of the tub, earning a content purr from you as you were surrounded by the waters. once you were settled inside, sylus joins you, allowing your back to meet with his chest when his arms automatically wrapped around your front. you giggle upon seeing the bath waters fall onto the marble floors with sylus’s added weight. letting out a rich chuckle of your name, sylus busies himself with washing your hair, threading his fingers through them as he massages your scalp in the process.

once your hair was washed and thoroughly rinsed, sylus helps you further by spreading your legs, earning a soft moan from you when you felt his thick fingers exploring the depths of your core, cleaning you of the respective evidence of yours and sylus’s release. your meek whimpers fill at the air, feeling sylus lean down to gently bite down against your shoulder.

“hmph, the sounds you’re making are truly difficult to ignore. you’re making it hard to resist you, but i know how tired you must feel… so i’ll behave.” he admits with a grunt, with you visibly relaxing in his embrace, allowing your lover to further spoil you with his massages as he spends a copious amount of time in the bathtub with you.

zayne was simply admiring the way you gently rode him, gasping as your legs trembled in response to each painstaking thrust made against his cock. it takes him a herculean effort not to climax with you riding him so passionately that you were practically bouncing up and down his aching shaft.

filled with a desperation to be the sole cause of your release, zayne places both his hands on your hips, purposely speeding up your bounces against his cock. your eyes end up rolling to the back of your head, the pleasure almost too intense for you to handle. your back arches in response to the way zayne slams you up and down his dick, with the palm of your hands settled on his chest to help you with maintaining your balance.

“you are… magnificent. i will never get enough of you…” zayne admits to you in a breathless whisper, making you gasp as your walls sweetly clench around zayne’s cock. as your cunt grips at his dick in a vice grip, you felt every pulsating vein from zayne, making the doctor grunt before thrusting his hips upwards, his cock twitching wildly inside of you before completely releasing himself into you. your walls were coated in white, making you moan as you felt your respective releases flowing out of you and down the length of zayne’s softening cock.

with you becoming out of breath coupled along with the ache you felt all across your body, zayne’s eyes go wide before quickly pulling himself out of you. you were left moaning at the sudden loss of him, yet zayne was too distracted with his desires to take care of you for you to notice.

“you shouldn’t have exerted yourself. despite how-“ zayne cuts himself off with a cough, “despite how pleasurable it was for both of us, i should have known better than to keep pushing you. and for that i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, z-zayne. i… it felt really good. i don’t regret it at all.” you reassure your beloved with a satisfied smile on your face, making the cardiac surgeon blush an even deeper shade of red.

zayne lets out another cough, flushing a noticeably in response when he leans closer to you, giving your lips a quick kiss before hurriedly disappearing into your shared bathroom. in his rush, zayne had forgotten to put on some clothes, giving you the perfect view of his backside as you grinned at the sight.

the sounds of running water were all you could hear, and it wasn’t until several minutes later that zayne reappears into the bedroom, picking up your pliant form with ease before taking you into the master bathroom with him. with your arms wrapped around his neck, you watch as he carefully settles you within the bathtub. the lingering scent of lavender fills your senses, and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a moan the moment you felt the warm waters surrounding your aching body.

with you practically melting into the bathtub, zayne places one last kiss against your hair. “enjoy your bath, my love. and i’ll return once everything is ready for you.”

you frown, wanting him to join you, too. but his sudden departure from the bathroom makes you pout a bit. but alas, your lover had always been like this-

becoming a complete and total mother hen when it came to caring for you. knowing it was best to not argue with zayne when he became so passionate, you decided to wash yourself, cleansing your body of the sweat and fluids that remained as evidence of your copulation just moments ago.

losing track of time of how long you had been in the bath, you end up feeling a bit startled when zayne reappears. he smiles back at you, now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and shirt. with a plush towel in hand, zayne sweetly beckons at you to stand up for him, allowing him to dry you completely as he begins to drain the bathtub of the water.

once he was satisfied, your lover wraps you in the towel and carries you out of the tub. not allowing you to lift even a single finger, zayne rids your damp body of the towel, choosing instead to don your form in a comfortable robe before carrying you once more. with you clinging to him, you gently place kisses against his jawline, eyes trailing toward your shared bed when you realize that zayne had completely changed the sheets and blankets. you become flustered at this fact, feeling embarrassed at being the reason why zayne had switched out the bedding with something fresh and new.

zayne senses your embarrassment, yet doesn’t comment on it. as he settles himself into bed with you, you saw that he had another surprise up his sleeve. watching him with love filled in your gaze, you notice the way he brings over a tray filled with your favorite foods over from the nightstand, picking up one of the utensils as he cuts a piece of it off for you, hand feeding you the morsel as you let out a dreamy sigh, feeling overjoyed that you were able to call the king of aftercare as your own.

xavier didn’t hold back when it came to his quick pounds deep inside of you, holding up your leg as he kept fucking himself against you. your mind was void of all coherent thoughts, becoming filled with the delicious friction caused by xavier’s cock nestled so deeply within you.

your moans and constant cries of his name makes a surge of confidence go through him. your sweet mewls and the sensation of your walls gripping him so tightly was enough to make the young hunter lose his damn mind. his eyes had long been eclipsed by darkness as evidence of the way they had remained dilated at the mere sight of you. there was something achingly addicting to the sensation of your walls squelching in response to each of his heated thrusts, filling him with the need to make you lose all control for him.

“hah… fuck… you’re squeezing me so much…! you’re practically milking me.”

the pleasured phrases falling from xavier’s lips makes you cry out even further, sobbing into your pillow while he slams his hips even deeper into you. the man had become obsessed with having your walls gripping him oh so tightly, and he briefly wondered if he could make you spill your juices onto him.

his darkened eyes focus on your swollen bundle of nerves, watching the way your pretty pussy practically devours his cock. with a grunt of your name, xavier reaches forward to give your swollen pearl a gentle pinch, earning a gasp from you. he was relentless in taking you now, gently rolling your swollen clit between his fingers while continuing his movements. with his cock continuously disappearing and reappearing, you lost the last bit of your control, letting out a hiss as you came.

feeling the increase in moisture surrounding his already sensitive cock, xavier stills his hips with his eyes clenched shut, already shooting the rest of his seed deep inside of your womb with his balls tightening in response. a low string of curses manages to escape from xavier, basking in the sensation of his cock emptying everything that it had as he kept on pumping his seed inside of you.

by the end of it all, you were too drunk and exhausted to say a single word, eyes going a little hazy. xavier wasn’t faring any better, but manages to pull out of you all the same.

you had your eyes closed, ready to doze off when you felt a strong hand suddenly spread your legs. a soft whine escapes from you, and you manage to look down to see xavier himself placing his face between your legs. the sensation of his wet tongue cleaning at your entrance makes you shiver, yet you lost all the energy to protest. instead, you allow xavier to spread your legs even further for him, placing your hand against his golden strands of hair to help with guiding him against you as he utilizes his hot mouth alone for the sole purpose of cleaning you.

not wishing to forget your every expression, rafayel decided to make love to you in the missionary position. with his hair covering his face in tune to his every thrusts, the young artist couldn’t help but admire just how responsive you were to his every touch.

each time he rams his cock back inside of you, your breasts would bounce beautifully, your gaze becoming even more filled with lust and adoration for him.

your moans were nothing short of being absolute music to his ears, and he basked in the way he was able to play your body like a symphony, using his cock for the purpose of your pleasure alone.

the mere sight of your gorgeous face twisted in absolute and utter pleasure was almost too much for rafayel to bear, making him insane as he leans down to capture your hardened nipples within his hot mouth. the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe up your aching breasts makes you gasp, hands already delving into his soft strands of hair. you lightly pull against those strands, earning a grunt from him as he began to shamelessly suckle on your nipples.

your climax was quickly approaching, and the moment rafayel felt your walls clenching around him so tightly did he lose all sense of control. stilling his hips, he pumps the rest of his seed inside of you, fully emptying himself with a low hiss of your name.

you were practically sobbing beneath him, hands clenching at the ruined sheets below you as you took in all that he had to offer. the lumerian’s gaze looks down at the spot where you remained connected to him, becoming filled with pride at just how well you managed to take him in.

“such a good girl for me… you’re my sole princess.” rafayel admits to you with a soft smile, pressing lingering kisses against your damp skin. when both of your respective releases simmers down to a manageable level, rafayel remains buried deep inside of you.

knowing that your body was aching, he spends a good amount of time massaging your shoulders and hips, applying the right amount of pressure on them. still feeling a bit naughty, the artist ends up wrapping his arms beneath your back, picking up your form, ensuring that your heaving breasts were settled before him as he spends yet another good chunk of time littering them with kisses all while gently sucking on your sensitive nipples.

he continues to chuckle at how responsive you still were, finally ceasing with his almost hedonistic massages against your skin. realizing just how tired you were when you let out a yawn, rafayel makes sure his limp cock was still connected to your slick walls (despite how much of a challenge it was to place you both beneath the covers without breaking such an intimate contact.)

seeing the way your lover struggled makes you giggle weakly in response, earning a playful glare from him that was certainly not a pout. you listen as rafayel huffs before placing your face within his naked chest after managing to pull the comforter over both your forms.

“sleep, my princess, and i’ll be sure to treat you to something nice when morning comes.”

his gentle voice was all the urging you needed to succumb to your exhaustion, allowing your eyelids to grow heavier before falling into a deep slumber…

end notes: it is so easy to thirst for the lads boys and i am just so shameless at this point 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[marinawolf]

Part 2- You're Mine (Supercorp)

by marinawolf

You guys wanted a part 2! So here it is. Be warned, it's pure smut. NSFW.

(part 1 here)

Kara stood outside Lena's apartment, her heart pounding with a potent mix of anger, confusion, and a hint of something else she couldn't quite define. How could Lena, her friend, just kiss her like that and then vanish into a meeting without a word? It was completely unacceptable, and Kara was determined to demand an explanation.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood, each knock echoing in her ears like the resounding beats of her own unsettled heart. Seconds ticked by, stretching into an eternity, until finally, the door swung open, revealing Lena Luthor herself.

Kara's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her friend. Lena looked breathtakingly beautiful, her hair cascading in gentle waves down her shoulders, framing her face like a soft, dark halo. She wore a cozy, cream-colored sweater that hugged her figure in all the right places, emphasizing the curves that Kara had never been able to stop herself from noticing. Her blue-green eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions—regret, uncertainty, and something deeper, something that made Kara's pulse quicken.

Lena's lips curved into a smile as she looked at Kara, her eyes tracing over her friend's form. "Kara, hi," she greeted, her voice soft and tinged with a touch of nervousness.

Kara tried to speak, to demand answers, but her voice caught in her throat. The sight of Lena, looking so undeniably alluring, rendered her momentarily speechless. She found herself gazing at those lips, those lips that had pressed against her own so passionately earlier, igniting a fire within her that she had never expected.

Lena's lips were perfection, soft and inviting. Kara couldn't help but remember how they had felt against her own, the electric surge that had coursed through her body, leaving her breathless and craving more.

Shaking herself out of the reverie, Kara stepped forward into Lena's apartment, her determination returning as anger mingled with desire. She had to confront Lena about what had happened, about how she had dared to kiss her and then disappear without a trace.

"What the hell was that, Lena?" Kara finally managed to say, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and longing. "You can't just kiss me like that and then act as if nothing happened!"

Lena sighed, her gaze shifting from Kara to the floor. She closed the door behind them, creating an intimate space where their conversation could unfold. "I know, Kara. I know it was wrong of me, and I'm sorry. I should have explained myself before I acted impulsively. But please, let me explain now."

Kara crossed her arms, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but her curiosity demanding answers. "Fine, Lena. Explain. I want to know why you thought it was appropriate to kiss me and then disappear into a meeting."

Lena took a deep breath. "Because I was jealous, Kara. Jealous of you and James, of the way you two were interacting at work. I couldn't bear the thought of someone else having your attention, of anyone else touching what's mine."

Kara's eyes widened in surprise, her anger momentarily forgotten as she absorbed Lena's words. "Yours?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lena took a step closer, her gaze intense. "I'm in love with you, Kara. I've been in love with you for a while now, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. I tried to hide it from myself, but seeing you with James today… it made me realize that I can't hide it anymore. I can't pretend anymore."

Kara's heart skipped a beat, the weight of Lena's confession sinking in. She had spent countless nights grappling with her own feelings, pushing them aside for fear of ruining their friendship or being rejected. And now, standing there in Lena's apartment, with the truth finally laid bare, it was overwhelming.

A mix of shock, elation, and a flood of long-repressed emotions swirled within Kara. Her mind raced, struggling to process the magnitude of Lena's words. She had never allowed herself to imagine that Lena felt the same way, that they could be more than friends. But here she stood, confronted with the undeniable truth.

"You're in love with me?" Kara echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief and hope.

Lena's eyes searched Kara's face, her vulnerability laid bare. "Yes, Kara. I am. I've tried to deny it, to hide it even from myself, but I can't bear the thought of someone else having you. You're mine."

As Lena spoke those words, a surge of longing washed over Kara, erasing any lingering traces of anger. The unspoken tension between them crackled in the air, a palpable magnetism drawing them closer. Kara's resolve wavered as her own hidden desires surged to the surface, urging her to surrender to the inevitable.

Closing the distance between them, Kara reached out, her hand gently cupping Lena's cheek. Lena's eyes fluttered closed, her body instinctively leaning into Kara's touch, savoring the warmth and tenderness of the connection. Their gazes locked, their unspoken desires now tangible, their hearts beating in synchrony.

And then their lips met once more, but this time the kiss held the weight of their shared confession. It was a kiss filled with years of longing, unspoken words, and the promise of a love waiting to be fully explored. Their lips moved against each other with a newfound urgency, their tongues dancing in a passionate, intoxicating rhythm.

Lost in the depth of their kiss, Kara felt the curves of Lena's body pressed against her own, and it drove her crazy. Their hands roamed, memorizing the contours of each other's bodies, fueling the flame of desire that had been smoldering for far too long.

Between breathless kisses, Lena whispered, her voice a breathy plea, "You are mine, Kara. Say it. Say you're mine."

Kara's voice was husky with need as she responded, her words laced with a fervor she had kept hidden for far too long. "I'm yours, Lena. I've always been yours."

Lena's touch sent shivers down Kara's spine, and she couldn't help but lean into it, basking in the tenderness that emanated from every caress. She gazed into Lena's eyes, her heart swelling with a newfound certainty.

Their lips collided once again in a fervent clash, their tongues intertwining in a dance as old as time. Kara's hands instinctively tangled in Lena's hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a desperate hunger. The taste of Lena was intoxicating, a heady blend of sweetness and whiskey that consumed her senses. Lena's teeth grazed Kara's lower lip, teasing and inviting, eliciting a low moan from deep within Kara's throat. Their lips broke apart momentarily, leaving them both breathless and wanting, their foreheads resting against each other.

Kara's voice was husky with need as she whispered, "I love you, too," before crashing her lips against Lena's again.

Lena's hands instinctively found their way to Kara's waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressing against each other with an undeniable magnetic force. Kara's hands roamed freely over Lena's back, her fingers tracing the curves and contours that had haunted her dreams for so long. Kara felt the heat of Lena's body pressed against her own, their closeness stirring a wildfire within her.

Lena's lips trailed a blazing path down Kara's neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and nips, marking her as her own. Kara arched into the touch, her senses overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that crashed through her body. She surrendered herself completely, her trust in Lena unyielding.

As they kissed, Kara's mind filled with vivid memories of every stolen glance, every lingering touch, and every moment that had led them to this precipice of desire. She could almost taste the bittersweetness of their missed opportunities and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. But now, everything was different.

Lena guided her to the couch, and Kara tumbled onto the soft cushions, pulling Lena down on top of her, unwilling to let go. Kara's senses were on fire as she continued to explore Lena's lips with a searing intensity. Lena's hands roamed Kara's body with purpose, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her fingertips traced the curves of Kara's back, the gentle dip of her waist, and the swell of her breasts, igniting sparks of electricity in their wake. Kara's body responded eagerly, arching into the touch, aching for more of Lena's caress. Suddenly, Kara felt Lena's fingers fumble with the buttons of her shirt, one by one until it was open, exposing Kara's bare skin. Lena's hand moved with a desperate urgency as she reached for the clasp of Kara's bra, and let the material fall away and Kara gasped as she felt Lena's hands on her waist, tracing the curves of her body with her fingertips.

Desperately, Kara tugged at Lena's sweater, and Lena relented. She sat up, knees on either side of Kara's legs, and pulled the garment over her head before discarding it on the floor. Kara suddenly forgot how to breathe, transfixed by the sight of Lena, her smooth skin glowing in the soft light. Her eyes traced the curves and contours of Lena's form, drinking in the raw beauty that seemed to radiate from her very core. Kara was enraptured by the elegant slope of Lena's collarbones, the subtle dip between them, leading to the the most mesmerising sight of Lena's breasts. The absence of a shirt allowed Kara to appreciate the natural grace of Lena's frame, each subtle muscle visible.

Lena's hands moved down to the waistband of Kara's pants and the touch jolted Kara from her reverie, her gaze shifting from Lena's alluring bareness to the connection they shared in that moment. She watched with desperate anticipation as Lena undid the button of her jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper. Kara moaned softly as Lena's fingers brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Kara closed her eyes as Lena placed searing kisses on her neck, her collarbone and then on the swell of her breasts. The desire coursing through her was something she had never felt before, something entirely new and uninhibited. Lena grabbed Kara's wrists, placing them above her head and holding them there as she lowered her head to Kara's chest, capturing a pink bud between her lips, flicking her tongue over it. Kara gasped, and Lena switched to the other breast, softly licking and biting, causing fireworks to erupt behind Kara's eyelids. When she stopped after a few minutes, Kara almost whimpered, the slickness between her legs a testament to her desperation.

She was appeased when Lena brought her lips to her body body once again. Letting go of Kara's wrists, Lena's lips once again found their way to Kara's skin, kissing below Kara's breast, down her stomach. Her deft hands found Kara's waistband again and Kara instinctively raised her hips as Lena slowly her pants and underwear down her legs.

She felt Lena's breath on her most intimate parts and held her own breath, her pulse quickening. Kara's breath hitched as she looked down at Lena, captivated by the darkening intensity in Lena's blue-green eyes.

She let out a gasp the second Lena's mouth, hot and wet, pressed into her and moaned as Lena's tongue slid along the length of her centre. Her hands tangled in Lena's hair, gasping Lena's name in desperate, breathless whispers. Her tongue teased Kara's entrance, eliciting a soft moan from Kara. Lena swept her tongue upwards, across the bundle of nerves and Kara moaned, loudly this time.

Lena closed her lips around the bundle and mercilessly licked it, turning Kara into an incoherent mess, before swiftly letting go, moving up Kara's body to crash her lips against Kara's. Kara groaned as she tasted herself on Lena's lips, but she was desperate for Lena's touch.

Lena reached down, her fingers finding Kara's entrance, her other hand once again gripping Kara's wrists above her head. She paused, her molten gaze on Kara's face, as if waiting for permission that Kara had already given the moment Lena touched her. Kara whimpered softly, needing to feel Lena, her desperation overtaking every thought in her mind. In that moment, she belonged to Lena, mind, body and soul. Suddenly, Lena pressed her lips against Kara's once more and slid two fingers into Kara, thrusting hard and fast, setting an unforgiving pace. When Lena curled her fingers, Kara gasped, lost to all coherent thought. The only discernible word she uttered was Lena's name, which fell from her lips like a prayer.

"You're mine," Lena whispered in Kara's ear, her fingers keeping up an unrelenting pace, "Say it."

Kara couldn't help but wonder why Lena wanted her to say it again when it was so obvious. How could she ever belong to anyone else? How could her body ever respond like this to anyone else?

Every touch, every stroke, sent ripples of pleasure coursing through Kara's veins and so, she whispered, "I'm yours."

Lena responded by picking up her pace, placing fiery kisses on Kara's neck as her fingers continued their delicious assault. Kara moaned, unable to silence herself.

"Let go for me," Lena whispered against Kara's neck, biting down slightly, letting go of Kara's wrists.

Almost as if asceding to Lena's demands, Kara reached her highest point with a gasp. Her back arched and she clenched around Lena's fingers, coming undone in a way she never felt before. In that electrifying moment, she understood with absolute clarity that Lena had claimed her- heart, body, and soul.

She looked up at Lena, smiling tiredly,

"My turn," she whispered, before pulling Lena to her once more, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

[esta-elavaris]

Part Seventeen [3,977 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - *Part Seventeen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

!! Not a new chapter -- I'm just stupidly late in posting this one here.

With the adrenaline and the shock coursing through her, it was impossible to feel the impact of James landing atop her. Yes, she was aware of the shoulder that drove into her chest, and the elbow that dug into her ribs, but there was no pain. Only impact, and breathlessness.

He recovered quickly, rolling off of her to the left, but then he lay as she did, flat on the ground, face tilted up to the heavens, breathing heavily.

Reality came back in gradually, but not yet fully – dripping in with small details, here and there. The stone beneath her, digging into her back and her tailbone. A slow, persistent throbbing sinking into her ribs where his elbow had landed, thrumming in time with her racing heartbeat. And the cold. It was so, so cold. She hadn't been this cold since she was last at home.

Sitting up was a challenge in itself. Her limbs impossible to feel and refusing to comply. The last time Theo lacked control over her body to this extent, Elizabeth found her washed up and fried to a crisp on the beach. Arms trembled and vibrated as she pushed herself up to sit, her lungs worked overtime regardless of the fact that it felt like she wasn't actually getting any of that air at all, and speaking was up there with flying in terms of feasibility. Even her legs, splayed before her, trembled and twitched like she'd just ran a marathon.

One of James' hands clasped hers – gently at first, and then when he seemed happy enough that the tremors were just that, and not an attempt to shake him off, his hold became firmer. She hadn't even noticed he'd sat up, too, until then. His hair fell about his face in dark wet curtains that he watched her intently through, bringing her palm to the sodden chest of his shirt.

"Breathe with me," he instructed.

She would. She'd have to, if she didn't want to pass out. But there was something more pressing first.

"Y-y-y-you…" she had to pause then, gasping for breath and stealing herself to force out the other two words. "…ju…you j-j-jumped…in."

At that, his expression changed – more unguarded than she'd ever seen it, his eyes painfully vulnerable as he sucked in a breath of his own, one that she felt stutter beneath her hand, before he finally responded.

"Of course I did."

Even if she'd been capable of speaking properly, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find the words to respond to that. The fact that she trembled hard enough to trigger earthquakes saved her from having to try.

When he began to move, it took all of her willpower to stop herself from clinging to him, not yet wanting to be alone for even a single fleeting second. Instead, though, she forcibly loosened her numb hands, and let him draw back, fixing her gaze upon her knees. The water had rendered her nightgown transparent, she realised, and were it not for her modern clothing beneath, she'd be entirely on display now.

Rather than standing up, as she'd expected, or leaving, as she'd feared, James pulled away just enough to reach for the coat he'd discarded before diving in. Dragging it towards them, he pulled it about her shoulders, eyes fixed firmly on the ground behind her while he did so, until she was covered. Despite that, though, she detected no trace of embarrassment on his face. His refusal to look at her was out of respect, rather than his own discomfort.

Once it was about her shoulders, he dipped his fingers beneath the collar, under her hair, and dragged it out from beneath the coat so that it wouldn't remain dripping down her back. As he did so, his own hands twitched against the back of her neck, proving he wasn't so calm as he might appear.

"Y-you should…it's your c-c-coat-"

One firm look silenced her suggestion. Then, however, his features softened, and he took one of her hands in his once more. When it trembled in his grasp, but she didn't pull away, he paused. She expected him to return to their little guided breathing exercise, but instead he lingered a moment, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. Then, before she could react, he brought it back to his chest, and they breathed.

They stayed out there on their cliff for what felt like mere minutes, as well as an eternity. But soon, as their ability to piece thoughts together in a coherent manner, it became obvious that they had to move if they didn't want to be seen – because being seen would lead to having to answer questions. Theo got the sense that he was in as much of a mood as she was for an interrogation.

As he retrieved her Docs from the beach, she slowly and shakily rose to her feet, pulling the coat tightly around herself and trying to stop her teeth from chattering. When he returned, they walked in a silence that was more dazed than uncomfortable, although he did frequently turn his head to take stock of her, visibly fighting back any offers he might've been tempted to make that would see him carrying her back to Elizabeth's home.

Only when they reached a garden path that was very much not the gates to the Swanns' mansion did she pause, no longer mindlessly following him.

"Your house," she said, her throat dry and words raspy.

"I cannot send you back to sit, alone, in the Governor's mansion after this."

The fact that he knew her well enough to know she'd return and do just that – sit alone, refusing to wake anybody or discuss what had happened – sent a pang through her. Although a pang of what, she couldn't quite place. So she nodded silently, and followed him into his house.

Something about stepping into a house, any house, made everything real. Or, at least, it brought reality back, making all that had occurred that night feel like a strange nightmare that she was now in the process of waking up from.

And that made way for something she didn't expect. Awkwardness.

Evidently, she wasn't the only one feeling it, either. Beside her, James scraped his still-wet hair back from his face, appearing to find the first few steps of the staircase fascinating for a few moments, before he cleared his throat.

"Clothes."

"What?"

"Clothes. Dry ones. I shall…I shall find something for you to change into. If you would wait in the sitting room, the fire should not have died out – in fact…"

Had she not been warring with approximately five-hundred-and-seventy-four of her own emotions, she might've found it funny. How endearingly awkward he suddenly found himself being. Instead, she was just left finding it, well, endearing. She followed him into the sitting room, her boots dangling from one hand and his coat still hanging about her shoulders, and watched as he quickly and efficiently built the fire up enough to last them through to the year of her actual birth.

Then he left the room with all of the speed of someone being hunted for sport. Looking about her, she decided not to risk spoiling his furniture and huddled on the floor by the hearth instead, after depositing her boots in the corner.

Her brain still rebelled against most coherent thought, exhausted by what had happened while still feeling painfully on edge. As she sat, she brought her knees beneath her chin and curled her arms around her legs, almost as if she feared that the shark had decided to follow them onto dry land, and her limbs were still at risk.

When he returned, it was with a white bundle and a blanket, and he blinked when he found her on the floor.

"I didn't want to spoil the furniture," she said quietly.

Whether it was the responding look on his face that had her realising how ridiculous it sounded, or just hearing it out loud, she flushed and looked away.

"Hattie is abed, so I could not ask if she would lend you some of her clothing…"

She was relieved at that. He was doing a good job at pretending what had just happened wasn't as horrifying as it truly was, but she suspected his maid – or anybody else for that matter – would not achieve that feat so easily. If she had to speak to someone who appeared shocked or appalled by the whole thing just now, she'd risk losing her own composure.

"…so I had to select some of my own clothing. It's hardly ideal, but you should at least be warm and, er, decent…"

Theo nodded slowly, wishing she had any idea what to say. Even Miss Manners herself would've been hard-pressed to write down what the exact etiquette for circumstances like these were.

"Thank you," she said – and that would have to do.

"It's no matter. I can…I can fetch us tea. While you change. After I've done so myself."

"I'm all right, thanks."

It appeared the offer was as much to give himself something to do as anything else, seeing as he winced and then replied.

"Whisky?"

"God, yes. Please."

That did a little to break the ice. He smiled tiredly, nodded, and took his leave. Theo rose shakily to her feet, and then paused for a few seconds – mostly to make sure she'd be able to remain standing. She felt a little lightheaded, but her knees held up. And she could at least be grateful that she was too shaken to feel the full brunt of the awkwardness just yet.

After closing the curtains – because the last thing either of them needed were rumours of her kicking about his sitting room in nothing but wide doe-eyes – she turned to what he'd brought. A nightshirt, and a thick blanket. The latter to offer her something resembling modesty rather than warmth, she suspected.

She peeled off the nightgown, and then her sports bra and denim shorts, breathing a sigh at the latter, because denim soaked in seawater was incredibly unforgiving. Parts of her thighs were already rubbed red raw and angry, but given the injuries she'd escaped on this night, she didn't really have it in her to sit and cry over something as minor as that.

Her saviour's height was a double-edged sword as far as the nightshirt was concerned – for while it fell well down to her shins, but this only meant that the chest fell scandalously low, having her looking like something out of a tediously racy period drama before she tightened up and tied the drawstrings there as much as possible. That took her a minute, too, her fingers clumsy and uncooperative.

By the time James returned, she was back on the floor, her clothing folded and set aside. He regarded the bundle with a flush; if she'd had her wits about her, she'd have hidden the shorts and bra underneath the nightgown. Still, the blanket was big enough for only her head and her hands to be visible, as well as her hair, which tumbled in damp waves down her back. Back home, this was the sort of look she'd go for if she was ready for a Netflix binge. But there was a strange sort of comfort to being in this state now. There were few comforts from home she had access to now, and while she doubted he was about to whip out a laptop and ask if she'd prefer Gilmore girls or Downton Abbey, it was something.

Then he presented the bottle of whisky, along with two glasses, and she decided she liked that far better than Netflix anyway.

He'd changed into a dry shirt and breeches, but his hair was still down, combed back from his face in a rather marvellous homage to the wet look. The whisky bottle and the glasses sat atop a tray, which also boasted a roll of bread with a thick golden crust, and a jar of what looked like jam.

At her confused blink, he explained.

"The sugar in the tea would have helped. This is…improvisation."

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I want to do this," he said firmly.

"…Thank you."

"Please stop thanking me."

The weight of the request was lessened in how he kept up a swift pace of activity as he gave it. Carefully lowering himself to the patch on the floor opposite her, he set the tray between them, then opened the jar of jam, before turning his attention to the bottle.

He poured her glass first, and then one for himself. Theo downed hers in one, only realising he was doing the same when she set her empty one down again. He caught her eye, coming to the same realisation, and there was a moment where – god help them – they snickered. He didn't even lock up afterwards, as she'd expected. Instead, he poured them another helping each.

This time, she made no move to take up the glass again. The only way this night could get more mortifying would be if he had to carry her back to the Swann's mansion because she got too pissed to walk. Instead, she cleared her throat, lowering her gaze.

"I thought they only hunted at dusk and dawn," she explained weakly.

"I believe your knowledge refers primarily to great whites. The one we encountered tonight looked to be a tiger shark. They swim inland at night, in order to hunt."

There was no reproach in his voice. Merely factual observation.

"…Oh."

The one we encountered. At this point, she was fairly certain she'd feel less shit about the whole situation if he'd stood on the shore and shouted encouragement at the shark. The only thing she knew about tiger sharks was that they were one of the most deadly, too. Her face paled further – her nose going numb for how quickly she could feel the blood rushing from her features.

"I'm…" she had to stop and clear her throat. "Captain Norrington, I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"My stupidity had you jumping between me and a tiger shark on the hunt tonight, obviously I'm sorry!"

"You did not ask me to jump into the water."

"I know-"

"In fact, I recall you rather vehemently insisting that I should not."

"But it didn't stop you!"

"Nothing could have stopped me, Theodora."

For a few seconds, Theo did nothing but stare at him. And he did nothing but stare back. Then, finally, she spoke.

"Of course you did."

Judging by his expression, there was no need for her to clarify that she was echoing his earlier words. Instead, he watched her. Intently.

"Of course you did," she repeated again, "because…because I live here, and you would do the same for any resident of Port Royal? As…as a duty…sort of…thing?"

Nobody could ever accuse her of being eloquent. As she spoke, James lowered his gaze to his lap, fiddling with the blanket he'd brought. Had she ever seen him fiddle before? Silence hung between them, and even though he wasn't looking at her, she could see the response formulating in his face. But then he did look at her, and it all fell away, leaving just one word.

"No."

Part of her – the part that didn't dare trust what was directly in front of her…along with the part that insisted this, every single bit of it, was a terrible idea – was tempted to start searching for more reasons why he might've done what he did. That he was a fan of grand gestures when it came to winning over the pals of the woman he actually was into. That he was practising for his Jackass audition a few centuries early. That he had a fetish for tiger sharks that hadn't made the final cut of any of the movies…although it would've made his stint on the Dutchman a more exciting time for him, if true.

All of those theories died when she saw, when she really saw, how he was looking at her. That was explanation enough.

"That you should sit here thinking it is you that owes me an apology…" he breathed a tired, humourless laugh, shaking his head.

"You saved my life tonight. I'm not exactly in a position to give you the cold shoulder."

"I don't wish for your forgiveness."

"…Oh."

God, but he was the most confusing bastard in this hemisphere and century both-

"No," he rushed to clarify. "I mean, I do wish for your forgiveness. I…I wish for it very much. But not on those terms. Not if it might only be bestowed because you think my actions tonight mean that I am owed it."

"Don't they?"

"They do not. The only reward I sought for what I did was your wellbeing. Your life. Had I been able to sleep tonight…had I not chosen to go walking…" he shook his head as if he hoped that doing so would shake him free of all of those perilous what ifs, "…I will not sit here and offer excuses and justifications for my behaviour that night, not least because you're hardly in much of a state to listen to them, but you must know that my intention was never to embarrass you."

It took Theo less time than he'd probably expected to accept that much from him.

"All right."

"All right?" he echoed disbelievingly.

"Petty crap like that never seemed like your kind of thing."

Which was partly why the move had sent her reeling to begin with. Too bone-tired to dress up her words in eighteenth century speak, she expected them to draw in at least an eyebrow raise, uncouth as her phrasing had been. Instead he huffed a laugh, smoothing a hand tiredly over his face.

"I'm not sure I deserve even that shred of good faith."

Feeling charitable – and mostly not having any heart for an argument – she stayed silent. He took that silence as an opportunity.

"Conversations such as this are hardly within my realm of comfort…" he admitted slowly.

"Crack a joke and avoid the situation, it works glowingly for me," she mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Apparently he wasn't content to give that a whirl.

"I am sorry, Theodora. Truly. For the pain and embarrassment that I caused you that night, and…"

He faltered then, pausing to clear his throat, the glow of the fire making it difficult to tell whether he was flushing or if it was just a trick of the light. Theo set her glass down on the tray between them – which he then slid aside, finally meeting her eye again.

"…and for giving you the impression that I do not enjoy your company. Greatly," as he spoke, she knew she already looked like she was doing her best owl impression, but he wasn't done. "If you wish to leave Port Royal, I will do all in my power to see it done…however, unfair as it might be for me to say…I have no desire to see you go."

Something that felt very much like adrenaline returned to her, pushing through the fatigue, but doing nothing to clear the fuzzy static from Theo's head as she stared at him in disbelief. Only after ten solid seconds of that staring did she accept that she really had heard him properly. And that she wasn't reading too far into his words. Because she'd given ample time for him to cough and clarify 'because if you don't, Elizabeth will be pissed off at me' or something along those lines.

When those ten seconds threatened to stretch into thirty, he bowed his head and took a swig of his own drink, having to reach for the tray where he'd pushed it aside. It was that sudden bashfulness that had Theo plucking up the courage to make a confession of her own.

"I've spent the last few weeks trying to rid myself of any feelings I had for you, and all the time beforehand denying completely that they even existed."

"Had?" he echoed, his face only just betraying a hint of downcast as he returned his glass to his tray.

"Does it matter?"

The weakness in her voice gave away that her use of the past tense hadn't been entirely accurate. Despite her best efforts, these last few weeks. Even before that, really, for every very good reason she'd listed to Elizabeth as to why she should not and could not get attached.

"Why would it not?" he asked.

"Because of the very beautiful, clever, brilliant, societally-approved woman up the hill who you'll soon be proposing to," she pointed out drily, before adding belatedly. "Or so I'd guess."

"That guess is mistaken," he replied, voice gentle.

When she stared at him then, he returned the gaze evenly…and softly…and hopefully.

Logic screamed at her to be dismayed. Because this changed everything. Not just on a personal level, but on a grand-scheme-of-things, world-ending, the plans-of-ancient-sea-goddesses scale. And that couldn't be good. Could it?

But Christ, she was tired. And scared. As well as lonely. And she was hearing that the man she had feelings for actually returned them – despite everything she'd been telling herself since her own feelings started to grow. It was difficult to know whether to laugh or cry. Ordinarily she'd have flat out refused to do either, but in her present state (and much to her own horror) she didn't have much say in the matter. So she did both.

A small mercy came in the fact that it wasn't extreme. She wasn't pissing herself with laughter while also sobbing herself into a fit of hyperventilation. No, her eyes misted up, and she breathed a few disbelieving laughs, but they were cut short when faced with the heart-rending sincerity on his face.

"Are you mad?" she asked. "Surely this is…this is what just happened talking, or…or…"

"I am thinking more clearly, as far as this matter is concerned, than I have in months," he insisted.

As he spoke, he leaned forward and clasped one of her hands in his, squeezing gently. The increased proximity that brought about seemed to dawn on him at the same time it did her, and he shifted as if tempted to back up – worried, maybe, that her decision to name him a madman had been a rejection.

But then Theo squeezed his hand back, and he shifted forward rather than back. At first he moved painstakingly slowly, as if to erase any doubt of his intention and leave her time to put an end to it. Instead, her eyes instinctively fluttered shut, one tear slipping down her face thanks to her earlier flurry of emotion, and then his lips were on hers.

By modern standards, the kiss was tame. His lips slotted over hers, one thumb coming up to wipe away the tear that had just fallen, but he did not deepen it – nor did he try to cop a feel, or move the kisses downwards, towards her jaw and neck. None of that surprised her. The way that it knocked her off her feet (or would have, if she'd been on them) did. A sign of the times or of the man, she didn't know, but the way she melted when he drew back a little, only to lose composure and kiss her again - like he was powerless but to do so - could not be ignored.

For it was so very, very dangerous. And she couldn't bring herself to care about that fact.

[runelocked]

IT  HADN’T  BEEN  WORTH  THIS.  That’s  all  he  can  think  as  the  cycle  repeats  once,  twice,  thrice,  never ending  pain  and  terror  rendering  him  breathless.  None  of  it.  Not  the  discovery  of  remnant,  not  the  murder  or  experiments  or  those  thirty  years  stuck  in  that  suit,  clinging  to  life  like  a  roach  -  William  regrets  it  all,  wishes�� nothing  more  than  for  the  ability  to  rewind  time  and  try  again.  Not  for  his  victims,  no,  he  doesn’t  give  a  damn  about  them,  but  for  himself.  To  avoid  this . . .  Agony.  And  if  a  tiny  part  of  him  trembles  in  remorse  with  every  death  he  goes  through  that  reminds  him  of  the  children,  well.  He  will  not  give  Cassidy  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  his  resolve  is  crumbling.

No  escape.  It  terrifies  him.  Is  this  his  eternity?  God,  give  him  the  springlocks  again;  give  him  the  burning,  give  him  the  pain  of  un - life,  give  him  anything  with  an  end !  Each  death  brings  a  new  wave  of  fear  and  memories,  each  death  sends  him  that  little  bit  lower:  little  more  than  an  animal,  grasping at  scraps  of  life  before  his  inevitable  new  death.  By  the  time  Cassidy  pauses  again,  William  is  not  himself;  choking  on  sobs  and  gasps  and  adrenaline,  body  twitching.  The  scars  on  her  body  mimic  his  own:  isn’t  that  funny?  Just  another  way  she  is  like  him,  now.  And  yet  infinitely  more  powerful  -  the  man  in  the  chair  cringes  away  from  her  words,  a  delirious  groan  stringing  from  his  lips.  For  a  moment,  his  mind  grants  him  a  little  mercy.  Shows  him  not  Cassidy,  but  Liz;  gives  him  someone  even  vaguely  more  comforting  to  cling  to  while  he  scrapes  together  what  little  is  left  of  his  courage. 

“ You -  Hah - -   Please. ”  Begs  to  Cassidy,  begs  to  Elizabeth;  please  don’t  hurt  me  again,  please  don’t  look  at  me  when  I’m  like  this.  William  heaves  for  breath,  struggles  in  vain  to  dignify  himself.  “ Don’t.  Don’t.  Not  again. ”  Pride  shattered,  will  crumbled.  There  are  a  lot  of  words  to  describe  what  Cassidy  is  doing  to  William  Afton,  and  none  of  them  are  pleasant.  His  thin  frame  pitches  forwards  in  his  chair like a drunkard,  reaches  feebly  for  what  his  mind  tells  him  is  Elizabeth.  “ Leave  me  alone,  ‘Liz.  You  shouldn’t -  shouldn’t  be  here. ”

How  does  it  feel  being  on  the  other  side  of  things?  Cassidy  had  asked.  And  William:  well,  William’s  delirious  agony,  tottering  and  terrified,  serves  as  his  response.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[okruchlodu]

continued from here

Furiously walking off and down the dark, emptied hallways, needing to put as much distance between her and everything that had just transpired, Yennefer tore open the door to the chambers that she had come to call hers over the years, then furiously banged it shut behind her. Frantic, erratic breaths were parting her lips as she pressed her back to the door, eyes falling shut as she desperately tried to regain her self-composure. It was difficult to process the sheer magnitude of everything this night had granted upon her— seeing him again, safe and alive, the heat of her fury, her anger, her hopeless, desolate longing; the kiss. She gasped, eyes flying open. Truthfully, she was only just coming down from running on naught more but pure adrenaline and shock.  Everything began to hit her at once, and the tightness in her chest felt like the weight of it all was pressing down upon her, choking the very breath from her lungs.  

Screaming in anger, a breathless, furious sound, she palmed at her head as she pushed herself off the door, pacing up and down the length of the room. Waves of desperate, frantic energy were spilling off of her very core, choking the air around her, suffocating, as reality violently sank in. Screaming furiously, the sorceress felt herself, half in a daze, tremble, felt her hands ache, and with an abrupt pang of anger swelling in her chest, she swept everything set upon her vanity off it and onto the floor in a frenzy, a bottle of her perfume breaking into a million pieces at her feet. The mirror of her vanity cracked in half with a thunderous snap from the force of her emotions that thrummed in the air all around her, snapping her out of the fog of her fury.

Her mind was afire, a blur of nonsensical, frenzied thoughts, of fear and regret; of the feral, wild desire that burned in her veins, rendering her completely powerless.

Bracing her hands against the table set before her now broken mirror, she took deep, slow breaths, trying to muster her self-control. She refused to yield to her emotions as though she was naught more than some weakling, prey to her every whim and feeling. She had nothing to answer for; her explosive anger, her cold, dark fury, her furious want for him; it was all hers and hers alone to command to her liking. She had nothing to regret, not one thing to apologize for — lest of all, to someone as insignificant to her as Lambert. He knew nothing of what this meant to her: to see Eskel again, after such long a time without a word... To know he is alive; safe. To know that the child, too, is safely hidden away where the Association could not touch her... It meant more to her that anyone could ever understand. No. She could not regret a thing.

Exhaling sharply, she moved to the window, feeling her hands nervously tremble as she reached for the obsidian star hung about her slim throat, breathing a little less frantically now as she slowly strained to recover herself. She would not leave this room tonight; she couldn't. The very thought of seeing Lambert and the pathetic little witch ever hanging off his arm like some trophy, gawking at her and Eskel, as though they were a spectacle for their entertainment and vile gossip that was sure to follow, made her stomach turn and twist. She loathed the very idea of it.

It was a flood of emotions then as the hour grew later and later, and she was left in the desolate darkness, furiously blazing and battling herself, sat wide awake in her bed, flickering on and off, on and off, like a fire that never quite went out despite of the harsh winds blowing all around it. Now, she took to pacing, as though trapped in the confines of her own desire, her own feelings that she could never wholly escape, then to lying upon the furs draped over her bed, breathlessly staring at the ceiling, every last ounce of her body ignited and heatedly awake. She half expected him to come to her, but in a feverish moment of something achingly intense she could not quite put a name to, she locked her door, fearing what would happen if he came anywhere near her at her present state. She tossed and turned in her bed, burned and burned and burned with wordless longing; she was a flame, flickering: she flared up, was consumed, left her ashes behind her and when the morning came, she knew not how she had survived it, but she had. There was nothing more pathetic than a sorceress succumbing to frail, volatile emotion, she kept reminding herself, over and over again all through the night.

Yennefer took her time leaving her quarters; by the time she had emerged, swathed in her sable, black cloak and with her sharp lips excessively, perfectly accentuated with dark red lipstick so that she might mask the weariness tugging at her edges, the sun was already flaming low upon the sky.

She flowed into the common area with an air of sharp, cold detachment wreathed about her shapely shoulders like a shawl, her cold, dispassionate eyes draping their violet gaze over the room as she came to sit somewhere near Eskel. Lambert and his little witch, too, were there, of course, and she could not help to note the meaningful look that swiftly stole over his face as she strolled over with all the aloofness and powerful poise of a sorceress sure of herself. Yennefer wanted to scoff, but she did not, paying little mind to either of them. She readily returned his mocking stares, deep-red lips curling into a sneer of pure contempt as their gazes met over the table.

She came to take her place near where her witcher sat, a perfectly pleasant, if a tad cold, smile splaying over her lips as though last night's kiss was some distant, far off memory. As though her heart was not already racing inside of her breast. She defiantly ignored it, tossing masses of rippling, shining curls off her shoulders. ❝ good morning.❞ Yennefer offered curtly, despite the lateness of the hour, and reached over to help herself to whatever was in Eskel's cups, ignoring Keira's curious glances towards her, that little smile that flickered over her hideous lips—  heavens, I shall stab her with this fork! the sorceress thought furiously, sudden anger flaring inside of her, but she did not show it. Remaining perfectly composed, she rationed her violet gaze towards Eskel instead, her pulse skipping a beat in spite of herself as their gazes met. ❝ it is terribly cold in here...❞ she remarked, despite the obvious flush staining the high apples of her cheeks. ❝ and you ought to have woken me.❞ Yennefer scolded, violet eyes shimmering in the late morning light filtering dustily through the slats of the closed windows— never mind that her door had remained locked and barred; never mind that she had not asked it of him, either. ( Never mind that she had awoken, flushed and restless, hours before finally abandoning her rooms.)

@wanderingwolfwitcher

[merlwybs-wife]

mmm maybe something a little naughty... :x somehow the cutest lewd thing i've ever written...

just josie doing some fantasizing

When Josephine finally flopped into bed some two bells after her arrival home, an immense sigh escapes her-- if muffled by her mattress. A hand shoots up to snatch her pillow, to which she releases a muted sound caught between a groan and a scream. Writing the letter to the Viscount had been a long ordeal, as she kept needing to quit to steady her hand. When it was done and over, and the letter was handed off to a courier to deliver the next day, there was no manner in which Josephine might've expressed her bundle of nerves. Excitement. Joy. Infatuation. Anxiety. Over stimulated, to summarize. Her chest had been beating at such a fierce pace since dinner, and she needed to relax. To turn off her mind, and get that sleep she was so sincerely deprived of. She rolls over, releasing a whimsical sigh as she gazes upon the ceiling above her. All too quickly, she pulls that hand Dauvaunt had blessed with a kiss to hover before her gaze. In a hesitant act, her arm drifts closer— and allows her knuckles to ghost her lips. Immediately, her face heats, and she gnaws upon her lower lip. The subtlest of whines might've even caught in her throat. She shifts slightly against the mattress, as that warmth begins to spread down her figure. As her eyes close, a shaken exhale escapes her, and her mind immediately flutters to that unexpected-- but wholly desired-- gentle affection. Oh, how she basked in it. Even as she recalled it, she felt herself longing for more. With every bit of force she utilized to attempt to push the desire away, that feeling returned twofold. Her train of thought instinctively leads itself to her brief dream that conjured up during her nap. That sensation of being held, of her hair being nuzzled, and the breath at her ear. The tender heat that doted upon her. The presence at her neck.

Her chest begins to heave, a delicate rise and fall of her breasts, as her free hand slides up her stomach. The fabric of her nightgown gathers, brushing higher against her legs; it elicits a gasp, as her fantasy begins to brew. His hand sliding up her hip to settle comfortably upon her waist, while callouses catch on the delicate chiffon.

A sort of pleasant numbness gathers between her eyes, rendering her breathless as she recalls his fondness for her shoulders. It has her curl inward, as though the thought of him doting upon her collarbone sent her to a newfound state of embarrassment that had her body reacting impulsively.

Though that one hand remains at her lips, the other slinks its journey upward, cupping her breast. Her hips dip into the mattress as she squirms, back yielding to a beautiful arc. It brings her to pant, however softly, as she whispers his name. "Dove..." Finally, the hand she had treasured so dearly slides down the curves of her body, hovering before her thighs as she writhes. Fingers twitch, tremble, as she hesitates like so.

With a harsh swallow, Josephine feels the heat of her palm through her gown; even such slight attention has her realizing how incredibly excited she was-- how aroused she had become. It's almost agonizing to feel it, as a moan parts her lips.

It was the moisture and subsequent throb that churned over her yearning frame that had her jolting back into awareness. Sitting up in a flash, her eyes have grown wide and her face a flattering shade of red.

What in Halone's name was that?

[proxylynn]

just thinking of Jack Horner making out with Little Lynn 😵‍💫

He’d be the most meanest bf ever and keep teasing her bc of how messy and sloppy her being but she dont care because all she need is his tongue in her mouth rn!!!!

[I still enjoy how I did this scene in chapter 4. Fuck it! Let's enjoy it together.]

How?

How did it end up like this?

They were sitting in relative silence and drinking one moment. The next, they were cracking jokes and telling stories. Then the stories went from tales of wondrous adventures to personal events. Things that were kept secret slipped out. Vulnerability shown. One thing led to another and, without sound judgment or clear concern for what the consequences could be, they cave to the lack of inhibitions.

Whom so ever made the first move is quickly lost to memory. But what came next at least was chaste...For a moment anyway.

She is over his lap, held to his chest in his arms, both leaning in to get their rose-tinted faces close to one another. His eyes searched her half-lidded ones for signs of hesitation or reluctance. When he was sure there was none, he continues to draw near till his lips press against her forehead, brushing them delicately against her soft skin and sending shivers through her that made her whole body tremble. At that, he vaguely expects a small remark or word of protest. But no such things come from her. So, he keeps going, experimenting with what he can get away with. His mouth traces along the frame of her face, like following the path drawn out on a map. His lips grace the hollow of her temple, then the warmth of her cheek, and peppering along her jawline. Each instance of tenderness is accompanied by the sound of her soft sighs and the quickening of her breathing. It was so much. Too much. Like he was dumping kerosene on a small flame. This was something that set a tiny spark into becoming a roaring inferno.

She reaches up and pulls him to her, rendering him stunned against her lips, but not for long. He kisses her back tenderly, his mouth smothering hers and leaving her breathless. Gone was the time to handle each other like fragile porcelain. Being gentle wasn't enough now, not after being deprived of such affection their whole lives. They were starved for so long and now, the hunger was unleashed and it demanded to be fed. She claws her fists into his shirt, pulling him hard against her, the need for contact is strong. He groans softly, low in his throat almost like a growl, and his arms tighten their grip on her. The tameness they began with had ended and the intensity that followed was embraced fully. The kiss grew in the wake of ignited passion. His tongue is forced inside her mouth, strong and demanding, it wrestles with her own. Every inch of her body feels as though it burns for him. Her hands journey upward, feeling their way over his broad shoulders and encircling his neckline, one clutching him for support while the other combs into his hair.

His hands aren't idle either, no longer content with merely holding her. His massive hands could easily palm her head like she could hold a ball, even one of his hands encompasses her waist with no issue. He was so much bigger than her. The size difference certainly made him enjoy this more. There is something so enjoyable about being able to handle her like she were a small toy to play with as he pleases. So he takes to exploring her figure with meticulous skill, roaming over each supple curve as though trying to commit her form to memory. One of his hands slides up into her hair, his fingers running through her fine locks before gripping hard and pulling her head back, eliciting a wimping gasp from her as they lock eyes. Her heart is racing and her breathing is heavy, her cheeks inflamed with blush, her head was swimming in intoxication as well as the effect of his actions. She was putty in his hands...and he knew it.

His eyes fall to the choker around her neck, the first proper thing he ever gifted her with and she seldom takes it off. Something about that stroked his pride. An idea form in his sauced-up mind and he grins mischievously. Still holding her head back, his other hand slowly makes its way up to her neck, his fingers brushing along the edge of the choker and making her squirm. Seems her prolonged wearing it had made her quite sensitive there. The reaction only fueled his idea. With his thumb, he nudges the choker up more to expose her nape then brings his mouth to it. His hot breath makes her shiver before he even does anything, her level of sensitivity is rather tantalizing. His lips pepper the smooth skin and then begin to nibble, her breathing getting shaky. His hand in her hair changes its grip to hold the side of her head, his thumb pressing over her lips. She eyes him in confusion till her breath hitches sharply, muffled by his thumb as his teeth bite into her neck. His thumb presses down more to signal her to keep quiet as his teeth dig lightly into her skin. She tries in vain to fight her whimpers and she clings to him, her nails digging into him as he sucks on the supple skin. After what feels like an eternity, he detaches from her nape with a sickening wet pop, lazily dragging his tongue across the faintly bleeding and already bruising wound making her shudder. He can't help but grin while admiring his work.

With his thumb still on her lips, he traces the outline of her mouth and then takes hold of her jaw. His eyes are glossy but bright. He motions to her and then toward where the guest room is. Her mind is too washed with booze and latent yearning to register what this implies, she merely nods like the good girl she is. With that, his grin widens and he stands up with her held close. No words are spoken as he effortlessly takes her to the room and locks the door behind them.

[viviskull]

@sunflcwr​ : x

It hadn’t been anything more than a regular session— the frantic breathy kisses they shared, the trail of saliva connecting them both now separated, her legs locking their hips within the constraints of the bed. Ekira’s hands are still knotted in her hair, and they’re frozen, trying to regain that pang of lust they’d felt, but to no avail.

Their gaze moves towards their crossed legs, heart still pounding in their chest. They’re shaking, and all Ekira can think of is how pathetic they are as the tears and snot stream down their cheeks— how alienated they feel from their own body.

It hadn’t been anything more than a few kisses pressed upon on their back, and yet, Ekira had frozen in place not long into their session. The feeling of those familiar, cold fingers kneading into the small of their back had rendered them helpless, the gentle touches feeling almost incomprehensible on their scarred, dead flesh.

“‘M sorry,” they finally choke out after an air of silence, hating the fact they could hear their voice crack, that they were shaking so visibly, that the (granted, small) puddle of fluids beneath them was already soaking the sheets and drying into their fur. They’d been used to having their back shielded, up against the bed or the wall or anywhere where Vivi couldn’t easily see nor grab it.

It was nothing but a painful reminder of what had happened, and to have it grabbed so tenderly, treating it as if it wasn’t a painful reminder of Ekira’s existence— something lovely, something to be so gentle with— it felt… amazing.

Into the solace of her arms as she embraced them, welding to them like warmth that virtually clung to her dearly beloved like they were her only lifeline, she had grown to learn and cherish every little detail the other had allowed her hands to explore.  The cool comforts of her body practically had Ekira pinned down and nearly sprawled open like a spread world map; taking extra care to brush over every notable feature with a conscious choice of loving respect.  Even in her unchaste haze, no matter how her animalistic instincts often clouded her mortal judgment, there wasn’t a body part spared from this dame greedy grasping at every inch of her bard’s frame in between their sloppy kisses.  It had been too long since they last parted from her during their long travel up north, and her heart desperately missed their reassuring warmth.  Her wondering touches, her senses craved to remember them again.

No piece of them was left untouched.  Her fingers had entangled themselves through their hair and ran to their hips when she had pulled them into their unofficially shared chambers.  There wasn’t an urge that hadn’t been followed, for every part of them she wanted to remind them of what they thoroughly forgot at her being absent from their side for too long.

So to say she was more than in awe to incidentally flip Ekira virtually onto their stomach (when their brain was most likely trying to catch up with their burning heat) to be presented with the rare, golden opportunity of exploring them completely?  She was overjoyed.  Their neglected, scarred skin had felt like a sign for her, just calling out for more of her admiration and praise.  She would have been a fool to ignore it had she not woven them deeply within the heart of her affection.  She loved every part of them and their entirety.  They were still her favorite Prince, her favorite shining jewel to behold in her honor.

But quickly she’s yanked off from her dreamy cloud with a sharp jolt across her skin, Ekira’s trembling terror punching straight into the pits of her stomach with dreadful precision.  Almost immediate, as if this moment struck a painful memory of her own, Vivi mimics their rigid state; her smooches to halt the instant their weak cries hit her ears.  However, as her lips still lingered closely to the scars that littered their back, her warm breath tickled against the old wounds in a breathless manner.  Her heart still fluttered rapidly like a bird batting its wings hard in her chest.  In that instant, her eyes shoot up to the back of the other’s head, her brows furrow down low with a crashing wave of worry.  The last thing she wanted was to make her companion upset.  She already couldn’t bear the thought of hurting them further.

Allowing her hands to fall to their hips in that moment, Vivi’s quick to rise from their back to rest her chin upon their shoulder.  If being her boys’ rock taught her anything?  She’d fall back onto the habit of being her beloved’s anchor, even if it often times meant it literal.  “.. O-Oh goodness, Honey.”  Her expression softens.  Her hands instinctively rub some comforting circles into their fur.  “Did I.. Did I overwhelm ya too much?  We can stop for a minute if ya need a moment to breathe, Sweetpea.”

[bobzombie02]

In the ethereal realm where beauty resides, there exists a radiant star, adorned with grace that outshines the heavens themselves. She, my love, is the embodiment of a celestial muse, her presence a masterpiece that renders my heart breathless.

Her eyes, twin pools of glistening stardust, hold secrets untold, wherein the depths of her soul, worlds unfold. They shimmer with the luminescence of a thousand constellations, reflecting the tender glow of love's embrace, casting a spell that captures every longing gaze.

Her smile, a melody whispered by the angels, bestows warmth upon the coldest of hearts. It dances upon her lips, a symphony of joy and tenderness, painting the world in hues of bliss. Each curve and arc, a brushstroke of affection, a testament to the resplendent artistry that resides within her.

Her voice, a dulcet sonnet woven by the gentle zephyrs, enchants all who have the privilege to listen. It carries the soft whispers of tenderness and the power to heal, resonating with the cadence of a thousand love songs. With every word she utters, my soul trembles, for her voice is a balm that soothes the wearied spirit.

My beloved, you are the embodiment of beauty itself, a divine creation sculpted by the hands of deities. In your presence, I am humbled and inspired, for your existence is a testament to the magnificence of god’s grand design.

I love you Ava 🤍

[fragmcntedsouls]

“So” revisiting his statement, Billie was searching for mental clarity “you were adopted by really, really rich old people?” Her features scrunched up within thought, mustering all of her strength to understand; before the realisation hit her and boy, did it hit her hard. “You’re not joking, are you? oh my god.” The idea of Brigg’s loose with an unlimited credit card was an added bonus that saw her smile return; a smile which quickly turned into laughter. "I'd love to see that bill."

Billie had hoped and prayed that one day, her mom would rescue her and beg for forgiveness, but it had been something that she had wanted so desperately, that there would have been nothing to forgive. But as the years passed, her desperation turned to sadness and eventually that sadness became anger. Anger towards being abandoned, anger for being forgotten. She had made peace with the fact that nobody was coming to take her home, but now she knew how wrong she had been. That broken inner child that now seemed soothed and years worth of entangled pain had seemingly been undone within one beautiful gesture. 

As they remained hand in hand, standing at one another's side, Billie could feel Briggs' eyes on her and unlike with others, she didn’t feel insecure or the need to shift from beneath his gaze. What she had realised with each tender glance, was that she was no longer wandering the earth lost, searching for her home. Instead he had already found her. 

There it was again, that indescribable feeling that caused for her knees to weaken and her heart to beat faster. Her body moved with his, purely instinctual as their fingers hovered against his chest and she understood. Her lips parted with the intention to speak, but she simply couldn't find the words. His actions had rendered her breathless, but her eyes didn’t leave his, not even for a second. She was completely captivated and if she could, she would remain in this moment forever. Wherever she had been before this couldn’t have been peace; because this was.

Finally, she allowed herself to give in and followed him up the steps towards the compound. Even the outside of it was extravagant, something that only existed in the movies. “It’s not bad” she teased, unable to contain the excitement that caused for her voice to tremble. From the moment she had stepped inside, Billie had been astonished. She was both overwhelmed and enthralled all within one, following closely as her hand remained tight within his as he knocked on doors and paved the way. Peaking past the open door, she’d never seen one room with so much space. Never even dared to dream that such a place existed.

Arriving outside of what was to be her room, she felt a sudden surge of imposter syndrome. “Wait, wait ... you’re sure your mom’s won’t kill you for this?” Billie didn’t want the doubt to creep in, but she couldn't stop herself. “This feels like something you should run past them before…” but as the door opened and her eyes took in the sight, she hurriedly stopped herself. Once again, overwhelmed as she stepped forwards, daring to take that first step. Daring to dream. “Holy shit… you weren't kidding.” The promise of it all caused for emotion to rise within the back of her throat, her fingers carefully running against the dresser that sat just inside of the doorway. "This is" her head shook, attempting to make sense of it all as she was now the one pulling against Briggs' hand "this is insane. Completely insane, you know that right?" Her eyes became wider with each glance, each lavish item that captivated her attention. "This isn't a room, this is an entire freaking place."

It was lighter, surreal even. If not for the insatiable need to protect her, he might have forgotten about the war altogether. But no, he remembered only enough of it to take precautions to keep her with him for the forever they promised one another. The look on her face brought an overwhelming sense of joy, to still amaze her and to have something to truly share with her now. Back then, neither of them had anything, so he couldn't really give her much except companionship. It had been enough, weirdly he didn't actually question that as much as he normally would, but now he had so much more to offer her. "I don't even know," he chuckled, still in awe of it all himself, "they're like a thousand years old, so I don't think it has an end. All I know is I've spent a lot of it, and it's yet to run out. I don't think I made even a dent."

He watched her, eyes studying her features, movements. No matter how subtle, it was maybe the only thing he actually liked reading. He couldn't know everything going on in her head, no matter how badly he wanted to, but he knew the weight she had to be carrying. Death was literally everywhere right now, after she'd been in a place where it was no more. It had occurred to him when he watched Theo in the prison world where no one could die. He knew that was what Billie had looked like in her peace--though her world had to be brighter than that one. He had taken some comfort from that.

Returning to him had come with a cost, and he knew that. She made his world better, but he wasn't sure he could honestly say her world was better with him. Death chased them both, only in different ways. If she was near when that inevitable time came, would she be forced to signal its coming? What would that do to her? To them? Would she look at him differently if he was at last stained with death?

Pushing those thoughts aside for another time, they had the day. They'd only get this moment once, to reunite, for her to see the compound in all its glory for the first time. "I'm so fucking serious," he confirmed, the excitement returning in full force as he kept his eyes on her, not wanting to miss a moment of this. "That's where we live now."

His hand in hers, he almost dragged her along with his boyish enthusiasm, but he held himself in place as she took it all in. It was impossible to imagine, he remembered that too. "It's okay," he murmured against her hesitation. He was so wrapped up in all they could do, the new world opened to them now, he hadn't thought of all the death in his home at all. He remained as blind as ever as he gave her a little nudge.

Her gratitude caused him to pause, looking at her as if that were ridiculous, though it softened as his eyes fell briefly on her lips. As his gaze returned to her eyes, he shook his head, breathing out with a raw honesty, "how could I have ever forgotten you? It wasn't possible. You just kinda got stuck in there." He had meant his mind, keeping it light, even as his hand brought their entangled ones up over his heart.

Swallowing hard, he covered whatever that was with a joke, "I won't just drop you off and leave, promise." He gave her hand a tug as he led her the remaining steps to step into the courtyard. "Pretty cool, huh?" Cloaking spell dropped, he dragged her along before anyone could interrupt them. He took her up the stairs, tapped on one of the closed doors, "this one's my room," before opening the next door over and checking it was unoccupied. He wasn't exactly sure where his mom had put people. "Okay," he murmured, opening it wider for her to enter, "...and this one can be yours."

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Chapter XXIII

It was eight o'clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn, and contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.

The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens, and was beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight of the vulture, and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.

I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my bosom; every sound terrified me; but I resolved that I would sell my life dearly, and not shrink from the conflict until my own life, or that of my adversary, was extinguished.

Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful silence; but there was something in my glance which communicated terror to her, and trembling she asked, "What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor? What is it you fear?"

"Oh! peace, peace, my love," replied I; "this night, and all will be safe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful."

I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife, and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.

She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages of the house, and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him, and was beginning to conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the execution of his menaces; when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood trickling in my veins, and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed into the room.

Great God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth? She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. Every where I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this, and live? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fell senseless on the ground.

When I recovered, I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn; their countenances expressed a breathless terror: but the horror of others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that oppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her; and now, as she lay, her head upon her arm, and a handkerchief thrown across her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards her, and embraced her with ardour; but the deadly languor and coldness of the limbs told me, that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the fiend's grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from her lips.

While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look up. The windows of the room had before been darkened, and I felt a kind of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the chamber. The shutters had been thrown back; and, with a sensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife. I rushed towards the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, and, running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.

The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats; nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form conjured up by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search the country, parties going in different directions among the woods and vines.

I attempted to accompany them, and proceeded a short distance from the house; but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunken man, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered my eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I was carried back, and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had happened; my eyes wandered round the room, as if to seek something that I had lost.

After an interval, I arose, and, as if by instinct, crawled into the room where the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women weeping around—I hung over it, and joined my sad tears to theirs—all this time no distinct idea presented itself to my mind; but my thoughts rambled to various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes, and their cause. I was bewildered in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly of my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his feet. This idea made me shudder, and recalled me to action. I started up, and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.

There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I hired men to row, and took an oar myself; for I had always experienced relief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured, rendered me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar; and leaning my head upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I looked up, I saw the scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time, and which I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her who was now but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the waters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been observed by Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. The sun might shine, or the clouds might lower: but nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every hope of future happiness: no creature had ever been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man.

But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have reached their acme, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to you. Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left desolate. My own strength is exhausted; and I must tell, in a few words, what remains of my hideous narration.

I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the former sunk under the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old man! his eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their delight—his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doated on with all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life, having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs, and doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of existence suddenly gave way: he was unable to rise from his bed, and in a few days he died in my arms.

What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes, indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales with the friends of my youth; but I awoke, and found myself in a dungeon. Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.

Liberty, however, had been an useless gift to me, had I not, as I awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their cause—the monster whom I had created, the miserable dæmon whom I had sent abroad into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on his cursed head.

Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town, and told him that I had an accusation to make; that I knew the destroyer of my family; and that I required him to exert his whole authority for the apprehension of the murderer.

The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness:—"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part shall be spared to discover the villain."

"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition that I have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange, that I should fear you would not credit it, were there not something in truth which, however wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood." My manner, as I thus addressed him, was impressive, but calm; I had formed in my own heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my agony, and for an interval reconciled me to life. I now related my history, briefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with accuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation.

The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes shudder with horror, at others a lively surprise, unmingled with disbelief, was painted on his countenance.

When I had concluded my narration, I said, "This is the being whom I accuse, and for whose seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions on this occasion."

This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my own auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was called upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his incredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, "I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice, and inhabit caves and dens where no man would venture to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered, or what region he may now inhabit."

"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit; and if he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois, and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts: you do not credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the punishment which is his desert."

As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated:—"You are mistaken," said he, "I will exert myself; and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure is pursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment."

"That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is unspeakable, when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand: I have but one resource; and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his destruction."

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzy in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.

"Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease; you know not what it is you say."

I broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on some other mode of action.

[doortotomorrow]

CLARKE & LEXA - The 100: 3x04

[gabriellereed]

As Matty's pace slows, her heart rate picks up, practically pounds through her chest the moment his fingers curl around her panties, tug them down and discard them onto the floor.

Jesus.

The action alone makes her skin flash hot, heat up even more when he calls her baby again. Calls her sexy.

He was sexy. The very embodiment of it, his dark eyes, taut abdominals, his perfectly rounded shoulder, firm with muscle, his mouth that said such pretty things to her.

Gabi had managed to find the hottest man in the entire fucking world, and right now, his attention was solely on her.

Bliss doesn't even begin to cover it.

There's a sharp gasp when he spreads her thighs like it's nothing, like it's the easiest thing in the world. And it is— Gabi can feel her legs part as fluidly as water.

Being seen by him completely bare. Being completely unwrapped for him, every inch of her ... it makes something inside her tremble, all anticipation and eagerness and need.

Her back arches when he reaches down to position himself. Please, is all she can think. Please, please, please give it to me.

The pulse between her legs is hot.

And then there's the that blissful assurance— the feel of him, for the first time, no fabric or barriers where she wants to be joined.

And god does she want it. It's desire, yes, it's lust and passion, but there's some other underlying need there as well, to want to be connected to him like this, feel him move inside her, watch his face when he pushes in. Their bodies had moved together in perfect chemistry, perfect dance, but so had ... the rest of them. Their hearts, their minds seem to mirror each other perfectly. How was it possible to feel so connected in such a short span of time? Did her soul just look at his, exhale in perfect recognition?

Her heart thuds wildly.

'Yeah, you want this cock, don't you, pretty girl? You want all of it.'

Pretty girl?

Something inside Gabi soars upwards like the first arc of a firework before exploding.

She would do anything for this man.

"Yes, fuck, please."

She can feel the head of his cock, the blunt pressure of it just waiting, her body waiting to feel it push in, every perfect inch, every thrust that would render her breathless. Gabi can't help how she bucks eagerly. How she grabs at his shoulder desperately, eyes seeking his own.

God. His exhale.

"I need it." There's an attempt to sound more composed, but Gabi soon abandons it, just looks up at him pleadingly, adoringly, openly, just imagining the push, the stretch, her breathless gasp, the growing pleasure that would come. "I want you inside me." Her heart just pounds harder. "-I know you're perfect for me."

She meant his cock, she meant him, Matty, the totality of his very self—it all blended together in some overwhelming want.

"-I wanna feel all of you."

Matty exhaled. He felt hot. His insides felt like they were on fire, his heart felt like it was working overtime. His cock had been begging for relief, for Gabi, since they were at the pool together. Now, she wanted to feel him. All of him.

Fuck.

Matty slowed the movements of his fingers, staring at Gabi deeply. He couldn't deny her what he wanted. There was no way. And it was what he wanted, too. The sweet relief, the feeling of being inside of her…

Matty slid her panties off, tossed them onto the floor by the bed. She was naked now. Perfect and naked and bare, just for him.

"Oh my god. You're so fucking sexy, baby."

Matty ran his hands over her thighs, taking in the sight of her body. All Matty could think was that he wanted to do this again tomorrow, the day after, every day. He wanted to have her in his bed, all to himself, forever.

Finally, Matty leaned forward, kissing her on the mouth with a deep hunger, exhaling only when he parted her legs with his other hand.

Matty reached for his cock, positioning it between her legs. God. Sometimes Matty wondered if he'd dreamt this up. He couldn't find a single flaw on her. Was she real? Was this happening?

It felt too real, too physical for it not to be.

Matty pushed his cock against her wetness. He couldn't hold back the slow exhale, the groan that stayed in his throat. It took everything in him not to push in any further.

"Yeah, you want this cock, don't you, pretty girl? You want all of it."

[sevikasangel]

ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

yellow september prompt ! 🐰

story type: drabble

pairing: sevika x fem!reader

warnings: attempted sexual assault, ptsd, angst, mentions of blood

requested: yes

prompt: catching the other crying + comforting + ptsd

With trembling hands, you finally pull yourself together enough to close the bathroom door of the bar that was crowded with drunks and criminals. It was Saturday night, of course Last Drop was chaotic. Back pressed against the wall, you press your head against the old wood, your weakened feet giving up on supporting your body weight as it slides down gradually.

The distant sounds of muffled music somewhere in the back of your mind, the obnoxious squeak of your black converses scuffing across the dirty blue tile, and the distant thud of a knock on the door coalesce into one, constantly hammering in your head. The tremors don't stop, your vision is distorted for vague seconds that feel more like an eternity.

"Idiot...I'm an idiot..." You whisper bitterly to yourself as terror consumes you. Breathing seems like an impossible task with that sharp, constant, and frightening knock on the door. "I need to get out of here…How am I going to get out of here?" Your deity fingers run along the roots of your hair, lightly tugging at the strands as a lump forms in your throat.

"Come on, honey…I don't have all day! Are you gonna get out of there or am I going to have to break down the door and drag you outta there?" The man laughed with that cold, disgusting voice, talking as if you were nothing but a piece of meat. That's how the asshole saw women. "I'll count to three..."

"Shit...Holy shit...Fuck!" Your breath is laboured as your breathe out. Panic settles in. It was not the first time where a man put you in this predicament. Surviving a sexual assault was hard as its own, though being forced to face your demons again, feeling so vulnerable, feeling like a prey...It took a heavy toll on you. You couldn't fight. It felt as if your body was put in a trance. Cold sweat dripped from your forehead and your vision went blurry, heart nearly crawling out of your throat. "Fuck...No...No, no, no...This can't be happening...Not again..."

"One..."

It was as if you could already feel those disgusting hands invading and violating your body, dumping all that dirt on your soul, robbing you of your dignity. You couldn't do anything to stop him. You couldn't fight him. You were so small. So vulnerable. No...not again...

"Two..."

Closing your eyes, you feel the hot, bitter tears sliding down your skin, leaving a burning, wet trail on your face. The feeling of guilt and fear unite, they tie up your heart in barbed wire and pull at the ends. The pain is unbearable. It renders you speechless, breathless. If only had you listened to Sevika...Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"Three..."

Sevika had warned you in clear and rather stern words not to visit this jungle unattended. The people of this place were not to be trusted, on the contrary, they could be very inhuman and dangerous. Your girlfriend's head was valuable, and they would do anything to see her vulnerable. Knowing that you are her Achilles heel, you are the easier target. Breaking you would break Sevika, as hard as it was for her to admit it.

If only she was here now...If only had you listened...

"Sevika..." You whisper weakly. "Please...Save me..." It is the last thing that leaves your mouth before the world goes black.

[...]

"(Y/N)...(Y/N)!" You feel light taps on your cheek and you frown. Your nose twitches a slightly, face tense, until you finally manage to open your eyes. "Fuck. Are you okay?" You blink a couple times at the sight of your girlfriend. She looks wild as her breath is clearly heavy, eyes wide. You flinch slightly in her arms, only now noticing you were being carried in your apartment.

"S-Sev..." You whimper and scoop up the hot, red liquid dripping from her shirt. "Y-you ar-"

"It's not my blood." Sevika nearly growls. "He'll never lay his hands on you. Nobody touches my girl."

Your heart drops as reality kicks in. The fear settles in your body as your mind is sent in a state of panic and you choke out a pained sob. Sevika quickly sits down on the couch and cradles you in her arms like a baby, pressing her human hand against the back of your head. Sevika's blood is still running so hot that she does not feel any pain from her busted knuckles, the knuckles she didn't bother getting bandaged just yet. Her facial features are hard and stern, you can sense she's angry, though it's obviously not directed at you.

"Shhh..." She gently shushes you. "He didn't touch you, babe. I promise. You blacked out from the stress. I was getting to the bar when a waitress told me what was going on." She clenched her robotic hand as her eyelid twitched. "I dragged him out and slaughtered him like the fucking dirty pig he is. Remember when I promised you that I'd never let a man lay a finger on you again? You're mine. You're my baby girl. Nobody touches what's mine. Nobody will ever hurt you again. You are safe with me, you hear that?"

You sheepishly, tiredly nodded. Your body felt exhausted as your mind slowly calmed down.

"I kill anybody that hurts you." Sevika said as she kissed away your salty tears.

[embrassemoi]

𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒

In a world where soulmates can feel each other’s pain, Bruce experiences the death of his soulmate.

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Prompt: “only love can hurt like this”

Contents: soulmate AU, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, character death, terribly sad Bruce, mention of torture, 1.3k

Notes: I’ve been meaning to do something like this forever! I’m happy to finally do it. Anyway, cheers! Hope you enjoy

Bruce’s feet shuffled, drawing in rigid lines from his desk in the Batcave to the wall at the end of the room, turning sharply and back in long strides. His armour was on aside from his gloves and cowl – which remained clutched in a tightly balled fist. The clanking of his boots hitting the ground was synchronous with each ragged breath as his shoulders remained hunched and tense – blinded by frenzied panic from the pain flaring and intensifying across his chest and head. 

Everything hurt; his body unceremoniously tearing itself open at the expense of himself. Of his soulmate. It rendered him barely able to function, the tugging on the soulbond continuously pulling, each time becoming weaker as he felt his soulmate pleading for help. For him. 

And he was unable to do anything but endure her suffering. 

In the distance, Alfred could be heard tapping away frantically on a keyboard, searching for any possible clues about her whereabouts they might’ve missed. Dory came frequently too, doing the best she could. 

It had been like that for several long weeks. No leads, no clues, nothing from GCPD, nothing but a few stray videos from surveillance cameras catching moments before her disappearance. The videos were blurry, each lead was a dead end after another and all motives remained unclear. At first, it had been money – a forty million ransom for her safe return, which soon doubled, then tripled and became apparent it was used as a means to waste time and toy with Bruce — only sending him untraceable videos of her. Some were of her crying, others screaming as they were beaten and tortured. 

Bruce hadn’t slept for more than a few hours a week, continuously pushing himself in search of her. Even if he attempted to, guilt consumed him as the slotted space next to him remained cold and bare as inexplicable pain jabbed him. Invisible wounds lacerated his body in vicious cruelty, inundating him in consuming pain that cracked and bubbled under thin layers of skin and bone – hallowing every corner of his mind and body and stripping it void. Shadows somehow appeared darker, submerging and latching on Bruce that tainted every bit of dwindling hope. 

He felt her pain like his own, compounded by unspeakable grief and agony. He trembled with it, leaving himself breathless and bracing against rusted railings and edged walls. His body screamed at him for his own mistakes, an outrageous injustice that ate away, peeling and dissolved into nothing but choked blood and lack of mind. 

It limited Bruce and his efforts as the Batman. 

Thoughts looped, paused, rewinded and played while examining the little evidence he had, again and again. It was torturous, knowing they took her and was in danger because of him. She was nothing more than a pawn to them and a means to control him. 

And they were successful. 

Alone, Bruce could hardly live, the pain possessing his body, taking tremendous effort to stand, to breathe – paralyzed by loneliness, withdrawn into solitude. The only thing that kept him going was Alfred, thrumming adrenaline and fear. 

Intense, horrible fear. 

Alone, his body failed him. Alone, he was directly failing her. Alone, both were manipulated by her attackers. 

With a prolonged exhale, he turned back towards the desk, peering over Alfred’s shoulder. 

“Anything?” 

“I’m sorry, Master Wayne,” Alfred said pitifully. Bruce could see the dark circles engraved on the old man’s face — weighed down by her disappearance. 

Alfred could hardly look him in the eye, almost as if he was just as ashamed as Bruce was towards himself. 

He clenched his jaw, nodding stiffly and pulled his lips between his teeth before peering back at the screen. However, his eyes wandered to the border where photos were taped. It was instinctive, the sight making his heart pang while reaching out to pry them from the screen. 

The faded edges of the photo felt dull against his fingertips, worn and bent. The first photo was blurry, but the memory was ingrained in his mind. She had purposely worn dark lipstick, pressing kisses to his face as his arm poorly shield himself from the bright flash of her camera. He was looking up at her, face flushed with pink while she beamed at the camera. 

The second made him pause and study for the longest. It was the night of their first anniversary, taken by Alfred. They looked at each other, a rare smile flashing wide across his face as her left hand rested on his chest, her right tangled with his own. Their bodies were so close and even then, if he closed his eyes and focused, could almost feel her pressed against him; could feel her heartbeat fluttering just like his. 

Her lips were parted slightly, about to tug into a matching smile as she whispered praises and small declarations of love to him. And he wished nothing more than for that photo to spring to life, utter those same words to her. 

Sometimes he was convinced he was born for two reasons. One, to protect Gotham and two, for her. 

He couldn’t recall the last time he cried – properly cried, but there, Bruce struggled to push down tears and swallow a scratchy sob as he waited for the inevitable breakdown to come flooding. 

Fuck, he couldn’t stand there anymore. 

With shaky hands, he pressed the photos to his lips before returning them to their spots and turned, marching up to the batmobile. 

“Master Wayne,” Alfred’s voice came sternly. “Master Wayne! Where are you going?” 

“I have to do something,” he gritted, already slipping his gloves on. 

“You’re in no condition to –” 

Bruce’s scoff interrupted him at the mere thought. Hidden underneath his anger, the hurt, both internally and visually, bleed onto his features, face clear despite the darkness in the room threatening to envelop him. 

His mouth opened to retaliate but fell silent as his knees buckled, losing balance and staggered back just as his hand grazed the handle of the car. A sharp, piercing ringing roared in his ears – rattling around his mind. It was a tortured sound of a soul, aching, biting, thrashing against restraints and fuelled with wrath and endless sorrow. 

The surroundings blurred, his chest beginning to heave with large sobs lodged in his throat. Something was wrong – felt it rush through him like a sharp razor, jagged edges piercing his skin and striking down in a swift motion like a scalpel splitting his body in half. 

Bruce was on his knees before he could process it, doubling over and on the verge of hyperventilating. His fingernails dug into his palms so hard he felt blood trickling out and seep between his fingers and coagulate in the creases of his palms. 

Bruce had always had a high pain tolerance, but this was debilitating – mangling his throat with each sob torn from his lips. He couldn’t stop screaming – voice cracking from the force of them with eyes cascading tears like a broken dam. 

He doesn’t register the bustling noise of Alfred rushing to his side and Dory barreling into the room. 

Bruce’s hand flew to his chest, feeling something snap and hit with a sudden emptiness. Anatomically or psychologically, he couldn’t tell, but the pain was more painful than anything he had experienced, surpassing every bullet wound or explosion. An excruciating pain spread throughout his body that made his arms and legs grow numb and buzz, like static, through and submerged him in mind-numbing pain. 

“Bruce!” yelled Alfred, trying to touch him. But he kicked, raged against anything binding him and shook violently. 

The warmth in his chest felt different, felt scoldingly hot before dampened with an impenetrable chill cracking. It was as if a branding iron had been pressed against his chest, scraping down and melting his metal chest plate down to flesh. 

There was nothing softer than a heart, and the crack splintering down the middle of his soul was felt across separating souls and snapping the invisible string attached between them. 

His soul suddenly hardened. 

The realization came instantly. Soulmate bonds could only be broken through a few circumstances. By choice or death. 

And Bruce hadn’t chosen to sever the tie. Only love could hurt like this. 

[the-lady-of-stars]

Close Call

Fem!Reader x Boba Fett x Din Djarin x Fennec Shand

A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for this sorry. TBOBF just did something slutty to me. Anyway... this is the way?

Warnings: Very NSFW smut (MDNI !!!) dom Din, Boba and Fennec & sub reader, do they have toys in space? now they do, a pathetic excuse for plot, TBOBF spoilers, yes I added Din to a scene that he's not even in but don't say anything, descriptions of injury/fighting (canon-typical), Boba does in fact have a bed and doesn't sleep in a bacta tank bc I said so. Not at all proofread. Literally the dirtiest thing I've ever written oops

Summary: After a close call with Krrsantan when he invades Boba's palace, your lovers show you just how protective over you they are.

You knew you couldn't allow the wookie to reach the higher levels of the palace. Boba was up there in his bacta tank, vulnerable and unarmed. As for Fennec and Din, they were in the lower levels checking the armoury- completely and utterly out of your reach.

Time was running out as the wookie began to ascend the staircase to Boba's chambers. It was now or never. As quietly as you could you searched in vain for a weapon lying around that you could use, but it was no use, all you had was yourself.

Perhaps... it was risky- very risky, and they'd all probably kill you for it if Krrsantan didn't kill you first. But what other choices did you have?

"Hey!" your voice broke against your will as you leapt into the wookie's view at the bottom of the staircase, desperately willing your body not to tremble. The over 6-foot creature turned, letting out a menacing growl and baring its teeth. You gulped.

"You want the Daimyo? Come and get him!"

A blaster bolt grazed your shoulder as you skidded away, the burn rendering you breathless. But- yes! It was working, the wookie was bounding down the stairs and pursuing you.

"C'mon!" you taunted, turning sharp corners and narrowly avoiding bolt after bolt. All you had to do was get close enough to Din and Fennec for them to hear you.

Fuck! You fell to your knees with a cry as a thrown blade cut through your calf, leaving a deep slice in its wake. No matter, you couldn't stop here- you were almost there. Keep pushing. Your bare feet slapped against the sandstone floor, heart pounding.

Yes, you'd made it, the armoury was in sight.

"Din! Fennec!" you screamed, deprived of breath.

The heavy wooden door to the armoury swung open, two of your panicked lovers immediately standing alert in the doorway.

"Kriff!" Fennec shouted, eyes wide at the sight of the heavily armed wookie on your heels. "C'mon quick, get inside!"

Both her and Din jumped aside to let you through, concealing themselves behind the wall to avoid the oncoming shots. Once you'd passed them they slammed the door shut, Krrsantan immediatelty pounding on it. The wood likely wouldn't last another twenty seconds with the beast's strength.

"Are you alright?" Din called out, voice laced with panic. He grasped at your shoulders with both hands but immediately removed them when you let out a pained gasp. He stepped to the side, eyes instantly locked on the blaster burn on your right shoulder.

"Kriff, you're hurt!" he choked, stepping back to survey you further. You obviously couldn't see his eyes, but his whole figure tensed when he locked them on the gash in your calf. "Oh-"

"I'm fine," you panted. "Really. It's only a flesh wound. I saw him going up to get Boba so I distracted him and led him here."

"You what?!" Both of your lovers cried in unison, heads snapping to you in shock and anger. Their gazes quickly turned to the door as they jumped back at the loud crash of Krrsantan throwing his whole weight into the door.

"We'll talk about this later," Fennec shot you a glare, "but he's about to break through. We need a plan."

"Yeah, I've got a great one," Din responded with a cold tone, turning to you. "You get the hell out of here and leave Fennec and I to deal with this. Go, run. And I don't want to hear you arguing." Din gestured his arm towards the door at the other side of the room.

"Bu-" you began, but they both cut you short with a shout of 'Now!'

With a huff, you took one last look at them before speeding off and through the back door, following their order. You'd go to Boba, you figured. You were already in trouble with the other two, so you might as well try and get on Boba's good side before they returned.

Looping round, you tore up the stairs to Boba's chambers where he was resting silently in his bacta tank. Your hand slammed down on the release button, draining the tank.

When the door to the tank finally opened, Boba, dazed, sat upright and furrowed his brows at your worried look.

"Cyare," he spoke, gruff tone rising in worry. "What's the matter?"

"Boba, Din and Fennec are in trouble! It's my fault, I saw a wookie coming up the stairs to your chambers to kill you so I distracted him and got him to chase me but now he's fighting Fennec and Din and they're so mad at me and they told me to run so I-"

"Cyare!" Boba planted his solid hands, slick with bacta, on your shoulders. "Where are they? I need to go and help."

"The armoury, when I left them." You looked away, hiding from Boba's gaze.

Boba moved quickly to pull his armour on but kept speaking to you.

"You're not in trouble, Mesh'la. You were only trying to protect me, and I am grateful, although I truly wish you had not put yourself in danger for my sake." Boba's voice was soft and comforting.

"I'm not sorry," you grumbled.

Boba hummed a laugh, a smile pulling at his lips. "I know. You're a stubborn little thing," he mused.

"Din and Fennec are so mad at me, Boba."

"Hush now," he reassured, finishing attaching his vambraces. "They won't be mad. They're just worried. I will speak to them when this is over."

Armour finally on, Boba pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling his helmet on. "Wait here until I return," he called out as he descended the stairs.

You couldn't stop your heart from racing as you impatiently waited for their return. The window ledge was the closest surface for you to sit on, so, on shaky knees, you made your way over, practically collapsing on to it - although not before grabbing a med-kit from next to the bacta tank.

Time dragged on and on as you cleaned your wounds, wiping away the blood and applying a bacta patch to your shoulder and leg.

Finally, after an excruciating twenty minutes of worrying, you heard three sets of feet climbling up the staircase.

You leapt up, ignoring the pain from your leg as you raced to the doorway to greet them.

"You're all okay?" you cried, eyes flitting between the three. They seemed unharmed, each standing tall.

"We're alright, cyare," Boba soothed, lifting a hand to pet at your hair.

You practically leapt into his arms, pulling him tight into an embrace.

"Shhh," Boba hushed, "everything's alright, little one. We're safe."

Your eyes began to fill, still clinging to Boba but turning your head to the others.

"Fenn, Din, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, no need to apologise, angel. I'm sorry for shouting at you earlier. I was just worried for your safety, is all." Fennec spoke smoothly and gently to calm your nerves. She moved closer, lifting a thumb to rub at your cheek.

"I'm sorry too," Din agreed, voice almost a whisper. "I just saw that you were hurt and panicked."

Din stole you from Boba's arms, pulling you into his chest instead. Ever so gently he tilted his helmet down to press against your forehead, although you didn't miss him scanning your injuries beforehand.

"You managed to patch yourself up alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, all sorted."

"Good girl," he hummed, stroking a broad palm up and down your back.

You hoped none of them had noticed you pressing your thighs together at the endearment.

"What about the wookie?" you spoke.

"Don't worry," Fennec smiled, "believe me when I say he's not going anywhere any time soon. He'll be getting shipped right back to the Hutts."

You sighed, feeling every muscle in your body relax.

"How about we go up to bed, hm? Take a real good look at you just to make sure you're alright," Boba suggested, eyes half-lidded.

"I think that'd work just fine," Fennec replied, smirking when she noticed you shiver. "Seems like she agrees."

Din let out a quiet, modulated laugh, scooping you up into his arms as though you weighed no more than a grain of sand.

You buried your face in his shoulder as he carried you up the stairs, a pulse beginning to beat between your thighs.

When you reached Boba's suite, Din set you down gently on the huge bed he'd installed to fit the four of you. You felt small in that moment, curled up on the bed, knees pulled to your stomach while Din, Fennec and Boba stood in front of you, inspecting you like a bounty well sought after. You felt like prey.

"Poor thing," Boba sighed. "Let me take a good look at you, make sure you really aren't hurt anywhere." He gestured towards you with a nod of his head. "Fennec?"

"Already on it," she spoke, kneeling to perch on the matress next to you. Careful not to touch the bacta patches, Fennec slipped your dress up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

"And the rest of it," Boba ordered.

Your body felt as though it would combust as Fennec looped her hands behind to to unclasp your bra, breasts falling free as she slid it off.

You heard Din let out a near-pained groan at the sight of you.

"On your back, little one," Boba spoke in a deep, gruff voice, deeper than his normal tone.

You squeaked in the back of your throat as Fennec gently ushered you down by a hand against the front of your throat.

"Finish the job, Fennec." Boba's words made you think about the context in which he normally used them. All three of the people in front of you were killers, could snap you like a little bird at any moment, yet here you were with your legs spread for their amusement.

Fennec slipped her fingers under the sides of your panties, making a show out of sliding them ever so slowly down your legs. Once they were finally off, she placed her hands on your knees, prying your legs as wide apart as possible. You whimpered indignantly, breath hitching as three sets of eyes stared ruthlessly at your exposed folds.

"Mmh," Boba groaned. "Look at that perfect little cunt. Doesn't look hurt to me, what do you think?"

Din reached down, spreading your folds apart with two gloved thumbs. You whined again, hiding your face behind your arm.

"Hmm, seems good to me too." Din slipped one thumb to slide up and down your clit, not enough pressure to give you any pleasure but just enough to bring you to the brink of tears.

"P-please-" you whimpered, chest heaving.

"Please? Please what?" Boba smiled cockily.

"Please... want you- please!" you cried out as Din flicked lightly at your clit.

"Want us for what, Princess?" he teased again, ruthless as always.

"Touch me, please Boba, please!" you felt tears pricking at his cruelty.

"Mm, I'm not sure if you've earned that yet, little one. I think you need to make up for your actions earlier. You know you aren't meant to interfere with our work, Princess. Maybe if you prove you can be a good girl now we'll touch you later, yeah?"

"I'll be good, promise. Please?" you sobbed.

"That's what I like to hear. Now show me you can be good too."

Boba turned, whispering something to Fennec and Din too quietly for you to hear.

The two of them moved to sit either side of you, each taking hold of a thigh and pressing it up towards your stomach, flat against the mattress leaving you exposed and dripping.

"You can be good, can't you?" Din murmured, tilting his helmet in feigned curiosity.

"Mmhmm," you nodded, fingers clutching the sheets.

When Boba returned, you felt yourself clenching around nothing at the sight of what he was holding. In his hands he had a pair of binders for your wrists, a small vibrator and a thick silicone cock. You couldn't help but thrust your hips up unintentionally, making the three laugh.

"So eager to prove you can be a good girl, mm? That's what I like to see."

Boba peeled your fingers from the bedsheets and clasped them into the binders, tilting your arms to rest above your head.

"Leave those arms there, yes? If I see you move them we stop, got it?"

You nodded desperately, nearly weeping at how empty you felt. Luckily Boba didn't leave you that way for any longer, taking the silicone toy and rubbing the tip up and down your folds, bumping your clit every time he reached the top. Before you could even gather the breath to beg him, you felt the blunt tip pushing against your hole, entering you in one deep push.

You moaned helplessly, head tipping back and back arching. In the back of your fuzzy mind you heard the three all moan simultaneously at the sight. Din's hand slid to the tent in his trousers, palming slowly.

With his other hand, Boba flicked the vibrator on to full speed and held it flat against your swollen clit. You wailed, hips thrashing at the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling.

"Oh, that's it. That's a good girl. Taking it so well," Boba cooed, voice saccharine and painfully teasing.

The hand he'd used to slip in the toy suddenly grabbed the base, pulled it out all the way to the tip then plunged it back in, every ridge catching deliciously against your walls.

He began a rhythm, picking up speed with the toy, all the while not moving the vibrator which was pressed hard against your clit.

"Boba!" you cried, completely breathless and leaking pathetically onto the sheets.

Fennec and Din applied light pressure to your thighs, keeping them flush to the mattress no matter how much you squirmed.

Boba's rhythm was mind-numbingly fast at that point, giving you no choice but to let yourself go cockdumb for his relentless thrusting.

"Boba- Boba please! I'm- fuck, ah-" you couldn't get the words you wanted out of your drooling mouth.

"Going to cum for us, angel?" he asked condescendingly.

"Yeah, yeah, please!"

"Go ahead, cum for us," he permitted.

The second the words left his mouth you let you, wetness gushing out and soaking Boba's tireless hands.

"Oh, that's it, there it is. Atta girl, what a good girl you are cumming so perfectly for us."

When your orgasm finally died down your head was swimming, legs trembling helplessly.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Din groaned, still palming himself.

"Isn't she just," Boba agreed, voice still sugary sweet. "I think she's earned your cock, Djarin. Wouldn't you say?"

Din moaned under his breath, croaking out an "absolutely" in response.

Din unbuckled his belt to free himself from his trousers, leaving the upper half of his armour on.

"Fennec, how about you keep her quiet for me, hm? Don't need the whole of Mos Espa to know what we're up to."

"My pleasure," she grinned, copying Din in removing her trousers and underwear.

Leaving your hands in the binders, Boba flipped you over onto your hands and knees, ass exposed in the air.

Fennec shuffled onto the bed, lounging back in front of your face and spreading her legs. The smell of her made your mouth water, eager to get a taste.

Boba laid himself on his back underneath you, aligning his face with your pussy. Din straddled over Boba, catching the head of his dick in your hole.

Fennec, pussy glistening, stroked your head before digging her fingers into your hair and lowering your mouth to meet her clit. She gasped as you licked at her, tongue lapping eagerly at her swollen bud. At that same moment, Boba tilted his head up and sucked your clit into his mouth, making you moan against Fennec who succumbed to a full body shiver.

Din took the opportunity to finally plunge into you, slipping his thick cock in, an easy slide with how wet you were.

You whined and whimpered as you tongued at Fennec, driving her wild. Boba was relentless, slurping at you with lewd noises, pairing with the rhythmic slapping of Din fucking you like his life depended on it.

Din, for how tough his exterior was, always let out the sweetest little whimpers and high-pitched breathless moans when he fucked you, becoming drunk on the feeling of your wet little pussy sucking him in and clenching around him.

"Ohh-" Din groaned. "Fuck, cyare. Always so tight, so wet, fuck! Can feel you trembling around my cock. Is Boba licking you good? Hmm? He eating that sweet little pussy the way you like?"

You thanked the maker you had Fennec to muffle your moans in that moment, else they'd probably hear you moons away.

Din continued, babbling, pussy-drunk. "You love being fucked don't you, sweetheart? Always take me so good, so deep. You're dripping all over me baby. Always spread your legs for me whenever I want it. Such a good girl."

"Din!" you sobbed, lifting your head briefly from Fennec. "Gonna cum, fuck- fuck!"

"Me too, oh maker, me too. Go on, cum around me baby. Go on- oh that's it. Oh fuck! Yes! Fucking milking me," Din kept fucking into you as you both came, not slowing his pace. He dug his fingers into your ass, surely leaving bruises as you clenched and shook around him.

Boba didn't let up on your clit either, lapping and lapping with every inch of it until you were shaking in overstimulation.

You knew Fennec was right on the edge too from the way her moans had picked up, so you slid two fingers in and rubbed them dilligently against her walls until she tightened around them and burst, her slick dripping down your wrist. You could feel her rapid heartbeat pounding through her clit against your tongue.

All of you stilled for a moment, panting and gasping. You whimpered when Din slid out of you, feeling his cum seep out with him.

Despite how boneless you felt, you brought yourself upright. You still had one more person to make cum.

Poor Boba was leaking precum from his tip, and you watched the way it was dripping down his shaft and pooling at his balls.

Since he hadn't moved from his back you crawled around to him, dipping your head to just above him. You took him into your hands, starting a slow, steady jack.

Boba groaned deeply, hips bucking up.

Tentatively, you lowered the final distance and lapped at his tip, cleaning him of the sticky cum pearling at the top. You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked, tongue flicking at the ridge.

Boba let out a breathless moan, hand moving to grasp the back of your head.

You took him in further, ignoring the urge to gag as he met the back of your throat. It didn't take long for him to get close after watching you cum, his breathing becoming rapid.

"Cyare, I'm so close- where do you want-"

Before he could finish his question you took him so deep that your nose brushed up against his pubic bone, making him shake and groan as he released himself down your throat, hips thrusting gently.

He sighed when you finally pulled off, releasing him with a lewd pop.

When you sat up and met his eyes, he shot you a toothy grin, sitting up to meet you.

"Well," he half spoke half laughed, "I think you certainly proved yourself."

"More than," Din chuckled, and Fennec leaned forward to kiss your cheek.

"Round two in the shower?"