#might continue this one in another prompt hmmm

[t1red-twilight]

AHHHH THE REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Can I get something with the prompt “there is no way you’re actually jealous right now.” With Peter:) something along the lines of him being jealous over someone who’s literally like a sibling hahaha

jealousy, jealousy

summary: “there is no way you’re actually jealous right now.”

content/warnings: gn!reader, andrew!peter, fluff

notes: thanks to olivia rodrigo for the title and thank you for requesting pookie<3

word count: 0.8k

masterlist p. parker masterlist

you and peter were walking home from your designated weekly date night. you both really valued this night and it was something you both made sure to make time for, sometimes you’d go on more than one.

peter had chosen the restaurant this week, and dinner had gone great. currently, you were both walking back to your shared apartment. with both the traffic and a general desire to spend as much time together as possible, walking was the preferred method.

the brisk night air left a red flush on your cheeks. the hum from the city bustle was white noise that surrounded the both of you. it was comforting; you looked forward to this night every week.

peter held your hand, but because of the late night chill, he had gracefully shoved both of your hands into your coat pocket, so that he could hold it without your hands freezing.

“we should just buy gloves one of these days,” you chuckled.

“hmmm, well if we did that then i couldn’t feel your skin. it’s really soft.” as he said this, his thumb drew lines across the back of your hand. you squeezed your interlaced fingers affectionately.

every now and then, either of you would say something; but, for the most part you were lulled into a comfortable silence. your shoulders would brush together every now and then.

as you were passing the corner store that was on the block right before your street, you saw a familiar face. a very familiar face, in fact. you waved your free hand to get the attention of your high school best friend.

after a wave or two, they waved back. you sped up to meet them.

“oh my gosh! it's been forever! how are you doing?” you gushed out at them.

“i’m good! just work. are you doing good?”

as quickly as you could, you introduced peter. he gave a cordial, albeit awkward greeting. as the small talk continued, you felt peter get antsy behind you. he began rocking on his heels as you kept talking to your old friend.

you tried to bring peter into the conversation to make him feel more included, but he just inched closer to you and leaned his body against yours. his actions were much like an annoyed toddler trying to get their mom to leave the grocery store.

“yeah, peter and i met through friends a couple of years back. we just moved in together, actually,” you explained. peter very gently, almost imperceptibly squeezed your hand in his. turning to him briefly, you assumed he meant to say something. you were pulled back to your friend after a moment.

“oh my god- was he that cute guy you met when you were working at that one pastry shop?” you were surprised that they even remembered this detail.

“yes, actually!” you turned to see what peter was doing, but he had stretched his lips into a line and was avoiding eye contact as best he could. he was very clearly not paying attention.

“are you still working in marketing at that car company?” you asked them. another time, he squeezed your hand. out of the corner of your eye you could see him gazing at you seemingly longingly.

they gave a light laugh in response. “no, the boss was a nightmare. he kept trying to set me up with his nephew. who’s a forty-five year old who still lives with his mother.” peter squeezed your hand again.

you cringed. “oh, god. that’s disgusting. i’m glad you don’t have to deal with that anymore.” you felt peter squeeze your hand a little tighter. he was getting even more impatient. at this, you wrapped up the conversation. “i think we might have to head out. pete has had a long day, and i have to get up early tomorrow.”

“it was so good to see you!” they gave you a side hug, and you felt peter scoot even closer to you. you bid your friend farewell and you and peter were headed home once again.

“are you okay, pete?” you implored following the silence.

“yeah. of course. why would i not be?” his voice had lowered to just above a whisper. he was avoiding your gaze again.

you turned your head to try and meet his eyes. “you’re acting weird. do you not like my friend?”

“no,” he blurted very quickly. “they’re fine. they seem nice.” peter was never a good liar, especially when he lied to you. his entire tone of voice shifted to a higher pitch.

you paused before getting a revelation. “there is no way you’re actually jealous right now.”

he stopped in his tracks and looked at you with raised brows. “i’m not!”

“don’t get defensive, peter.” you chuckled and reached for his other hand. you moved to the side of the sidewalk so you wouldn’t block any passersby. “we spent a good portion of the conversation talking about you, you know.”

he caught onto your teasing tone and exhaled out a breathy laugh. “i’m sorry, honey. i think i’m just tired.” his eyes moved to meet yours finally.

“you’re so cute,” you smiled. “you have nothing to be sorry over.” you squeezed both of his hands again and laughed with him. “i’m tired too. let’s go home.”

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Lightning Style: Tiger's Fury

for @kkgiweek Eternal Rival's Creators Challange

Daily Prompt: Lightning

Point Bracket: 2500-4000 (10x2= 20 points)

thank you to @maitogaimybeloved for the amazing fic idea <3 <3 <3

They only had one shot.

One opportunity to get this new jutsu right.

If it didn’t work this time, they’d be forced to wait another week, or possibly month, before they’d get another try at it. Any other jutsu might have taken them a few years, or possibly a month, to create together.

A lightning Hirudora, though. That had been a work in progress for a year already because Gai could only use his part of the attack once. If he tried to use it a second time his muscle tears would be ten times worse and he’d be out of commission for a week. 

Konoha couldn’t lose one of their top shinobi for a week. 

“Are you ready?” 

“As ready as I can be,” Gai rolled his shoulders. “Think we can succeed this time?”

“We have to,” he wasn’t trying to be harsh, but they couldn’t keep trying to perfect the jutsu as often as they wanted. It had to be done right, and they had to remember everything about what they’d done to successfully create this grand idea that they’d come up with over dango. 

“A lightning Hirudora!” Gai cheered, his stick of dango waving through the air. “Can you imagine it, Kakashi? My Hirudora mixed with your lighting. It would be unstoppable.”

“I thought Hirudora was already unstoppable?” His eye followed that stick of dango as it continued to move, body ready to move if it got just a little too close to him.

“It is!” Gai confirmed with another cheer. “But with your lightning it would be even more unstoppable. A hirudora that can not only pummelled the opponent, but can leave them completely incapacitated from the sheer power mixed with electricity. Even the best shinobi wouldn’t be able to beat us.”

“And how are we supposed to work on it, hmmm?” He surged over the table and snatched the stick of dango out of Gai’s hand when it got a little too close to a passing civilian's face. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” Gai bowed toward the civilian before returning to their conversation as if nothing had happened. “I have a day off tomorrow, we can work on it now.”

“Your muscles will tear.”

“They will,” he confirmed. “But if I'm just using Hirudora and not actually fighting, the tears should be easy to mend. A day’s rest should be more than enough after I see the doctors.”

“I’ll have to carry you to see those doctors, and I can only do that once you’ve recovered enough for me to be able to touch you.”

“That’s alright,” he held his hand out, wiggling his fingers. Taking the hint, Kakashi placed the stick of dango down in his grasp. “You show up at least once a month from a mission looking like you’re about to fall face first into the dirt. Carrying me to the hospital once will make up for all of those times I’ll need to carry you.”

It wasn’t just once he’d had to carry Gai.

So far they’d tried the jutsu twice already, and both times they’d failed spectacularly, and it was Kakashi’s fault. Gai’s hirudora was exactly the same every time he used it. The same force, the same power, the same speed.

Kakashi was the one who had to adjust his lightning beast tracking fang to fuse with the Hirudora perfectly. The first time they’d tried it he’d put too little power behind his jutsu and a spectacular nothing happened.

Hirudora destroyed the jutsu on impact and continued down its path until it dissipated

The second time they tried was three months later, and Kakashi put too much power into his jutsu this time. Rather than being destroyed on impact by Hirudora, the two techniques clashed and caused a shock wave that knocked both of them back a solid five feet and destroyed the first row of trees that circled the training field they’d chosen as their location. 

The bruises they’d received from that failed attempt had earned them an earful from Lord Third, who had a few opinions about the technique they were attempting to create. If either of them were smart they would have heeded his instructions and stopped trying to create this jutsu. 

They were smart, incredibly so, but they were also equally determined to make it work. If they could do that, then not only would they be unstoppable, but they’d have the satisfaction of proving Lord Third wrong. 

“Alright,” digging his feet in, he glanced at Gai. “Let’s get it right this time.” 

“Yosh! Gate of wonder, open!” In an instant everything shifted. His body bulked just slightly as his muscles increased, and what started as blue sweat dripping from his forehead and neck quickly evaporated to create a blue chakra like aura that radiated around him. 

Even after years of seeing the technique being used in battles, Kakashi still felt a shiver run down his spine when Gai opened that seventh gate. It was the last gate he could open before there was no coming back, and that terrified him. 

He’d only agreed to trying this technique because ultimately he’d managed to convince himself that it was the only way he could prevent Gai from ever opening that final gate. 

If he could work with Gai to create an unstoppable jutsu, then the eighth gate would never be needed. He’d be able to breath easily knowing that Gai would only ever have to push himself to ripped muscles and agonising pain for a short period. There would never be a need for him to watch as Gai’s body burned so hot that it disintegrated into ash that would blow away in the slightest breeze.

That was why he had to get this right. 

To do what little he could to keep another precious person from dying in front of him. 

“Alright,” digging his feet in, he lifted his hands and pressed them together. “On the count of three?”

“One,” Gai began without hesitation, his hands curling into fists while he stepped forward with his left foot and began pulling his right arm back. 

“Two,” focusing his chakra he began weaving his hands into the necessary signs. 

“Three!” Gai slammed his fist forward, the air around it gathering into one giant attack. As the tiger’s face began to form just inches in front of the fist Kakashi finished his hand seals.

Just two feet in front of them the jutsu’s formed. One giant tiger made of compressed air, and a wolf created from condensed lighting. It was a beautiful sight, but not exactly what they were looking for.

“You’ve got it perfect this time, right?” Gai called over the air rushing around them. 

“I’ve got it!” Watching the jutsu’s as they charged forward, Kakashi waited until they’d made it a few feet away before directing his jutsu toward the Hirudora. It wasn’t far enough to save them from breaking their rib’s if the technique collapsed into another shock wave, but he wasn’t worried about that.

He’d thought about it round the clock. 

Practiced his lightning beast: tracking fang every opportunity he got so he could control the amount of power he put into it perfectly. 

It was going to work.

It had to work.

“Moment of truth!” he called out as the techniques connected. Lightning began to swirl around the Hirudora, crackling and breaking as the pressure pulled it in every direction. Bracing himself for impact, he reached out and grabbed hold of Gai’s arm,

Last time he hadn’t done that and the hard crash against the ground had caused Gai immense pain. This time Kakashi was ready to pull Gai into his arms and take the brunt of the fall if he had to.

He just really hoped it didn’t come to that.

“It hasn’t exploded yet!”

“Yet,” Kakashi’s eyes followed the jutsu as it flew through the air, lightning twisting into air. As it got further, his lightning seemed to merge into the Gai’s hirudora. His fingers gripped Gai’s arm, ready to pull him close the second something went wrong.

It didn’t go wrong, though.

It went right. So incredibly, beautifully right.

His lightning twisted into the pressurized air of the Hirudora, filling every available space until the usually white tiger began glowing blue. It was a giant tiger made of electricity, and it was beautiful. 

“We did it,” he whispered.

“We did it!” Gai jumped toward him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a hard kiss. His mask hadn’t been moved so there was a thin layer of fabric between their lips, but it did nothing to dampen the warmth Kakashi felt flooding through him as he deepened the kiss. 

Breaking apart slowly, they pressed their foreheads together and chuckled. “That’s it! That’s our attack, Kakashi.” Gai’s breath tickled his skin. “Something no one else can copy!”

He was right. Even if someone else could use Kakashi’s lightning beast: tracking fang, the seventh gate was an incredibly difficult technique to learn, and that was if a person even learned about the eight gates in the first place.

The only person he knew that could use the gates was Gai, and he was unlikely to fuse his hirudora with anyone but Kakashi. It truly was a move that they could claim as their own. 

“It needs a name,” he surprised himself with the words that fell from his mouth. Usually he wouldn’t name a technique until he’d successfully used it three times, just to make sure he wasn’t committing to something he might not be able to replicate in the future.

That wasn’t an option here. The two of them had agreed they would only practice the jutsu until it succeeded once. Doing anymore was risky and irresponsible. They couldn’t risk putting Gai out of commission on every day off he had. 

If they did that, Gai would never get a proper rest day to enjoy with their friends. 

Their jutsu was brand new, hardly tested, imperfect, and in desperate need of a name. 

“A name fitting of the greatest technique the world has ever seen,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Gai’s dramatics. They’d only succeeded at the jutsu once and already he was acting like it was better than anything a shinobi had done in the past. “How about tiger’s fang, or daytime lightning. No, that doesn’t sound right.”

The time was ticking. If they didn’t hurry Gai would collapse into a heap of agony, unable to think clearly enough to come up with a name worthy of such a jutsu. 

Just as he was beginning to think of a name, a loud crash echoed through the air, causing the two of them to break apart and stare down the path they’d sent their attack flying down. The crash confirmed that their new attack could go a decent amount before disappearing out, but the distance wasn’t what concerned Kakashi at the moment.

The sound that followed that crash was of much more interest.

It was similar to a tiger’s roar, but amplified one-hundred times with the crackle of lightning reverberating through it. He didn’t just feel chills running down his spin at the thought of an approaching tiger. His entire body stiffened with fear, ears listening out for an animal that he knew wasn’t coming.

No creature with any sense of survival would stick around after a sound like that. 

“Lightning style: Tiger’s rage.”

“Huh?” Gai dragged his eyes away from the path they’d sent their attack flying down and stared at him with a puzzled expression. 

“The name,” he clarified. “We should call it Lightning style: Tiger’s rage.”

“Tiger’s rage,” as he Repeated the name, a proud smile stretched across his lips, reaching all the way into his beautiful black eyes. “Leave it to you to come up with a fitting name. That’s what we’ll call it, then. Tiger’s ra-”

In an instant the blue vapour that had surrounded him vanished and Gai’s knees crumpled under him. If it were any other instance Kakashi would have stepped in to catch him, preventing him from hitting the ground.

That would have only made matters worse for Gai. so instead he stood there and watched as he fell with a loud thud, groaning as the adrenaline that came with using the eight gates wore off. 

“You alright?” he asked, a playful note in his voice. If Gai could he would have slapped his leg. Unfortunately for him, doing such a thing would only cause him more pain. “Well, I guess there’s no choice.”

Dropping down, he stretched his legs out and laid down in the grass beside Gai. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but comfort wasn’t his goal. All he cared about was keeping Gai company while his body recovered from the incredible pain it was put through after opening the seventh gate.

“Tiger’s rage,” he watched as the clouds passed by overhead. “Our first official combo move.”

“First,” Gai laughed, regretting it immediately when his muscles screamed at the miniscule vibration that ran through his body. “Are you saying we’re going to make more, Rival?”

With each word he spoke Kakashi could see the pain he was in. 

The sheer agony he suffered, just to be able to talk to him. 

“Relax,” he insisted. “You’re just going to prolong the recovery period if you push yourself.”

“Answer the question,” his face twisted into an agonized look. If Kakashi’s didn’t know any better he’d swear his rival was under some sort of genjutsu torture. He did know better, though, and the truth was far more devastating. 

Someone torturing Gai was sickening enough, but if that ever happened he’d at least have a target to take out his anger on. There was no one for him to target in this instance. No one held the blame for Gai’s suffering except Gai and Kakashi. 

He’s the one who agreed to do this. He knew what using the seventh gate would do to Gai and he’d still agreed to the insanity of creating a jutsu that required it. 

“Answer,” reaching over, he hovered his hand just above Gai’s mouth. Not touching him so he didn’t worsen his pain, but making a point that seemed to work. Gai had settled, and the two of them sat there in comfortable silence.

Only after a few minutes of blissful silence staring up at the sky, did Kakashi finally answer the question Gai had insisted on asking him. 

“We can make more,” he smiled down at Gai. “Techniques and jutsu’s that we can use without having to open any gates. How does that sound?”

Gai didn’t answer using his words or by moving his body. He continued to lay there, eyes sparkling with an excitement that Kakashi knew all too well. Words weren’t needed for him to understand how excited Gai was at the prospect of creating more combos with him. 

Anyone who looked into his eyes could see that he was raring to go. If it weren’t for the fact that his body was currently incapacitated by torn muscles, he had no doubt he’d jump to his feet right that minute and start rattling off all sorts of ideas. 

All of that would have to wait. Gai needed to recover, and if he was being honest with himself he didn’t want to think about the next great jutsu quite yet. He was still riding the high of succeeding in this jutsu. 

That would get him through the next week at least. Then he could start thinking about what other kinds of techniques the two of them could do together. Whether they would mold two of their more basic moves together, or create something completely different.

[missameliep]

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Arwen (MC - F!Elf)

Characters: Arwen of Riverbend (MC); Imtura Tal Kaelen; Mal Volari; Nia Ellarious; Threep Pompedorfin; Tyril Starfury.

Summary: The long hours at the sea are used for training. The long hours at land are used for walking. Everything in between is strenghtening the bonds of their friendship.

Word count: ~4.300

Rating: M

Notes:

English is not my native language;

Characters belong to PixelBerry;

Parts of a dialogue from Book 1 - chapter 7 were used, and are in bold letters;

This fic takes place between chapters 6 and 7 from Blades of Light and Shadow - Book 1;

TW: Suggestive language;

This is my submission to @choicesprompts' Flufftober 2024 - day 4: Found Family/friendship.

Arwen changed the short sword to her left hand and sliced the air again. 

Leaning against the wooden wall, watching her through narrowed eyes, Tyril remained impassive. The silence is received as approval, and she repeats the movement for a diagonal cut this time.

Lowering the sword, Arwen asked another question, “Do all elves have magical affinity to become battle mages?” 

“The vast majority does,” Tyril replied, his tone deep and unemotional, like the eyes staring her. “If properly trained.”  

Pushing himself off the wall, he circled her and pointed out in a commanding tone, “Spread your legs wider.” 

“Hmmm... Are we done training?” she asked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a smirk. 

“Not until you improve your stance,” he replied curtly, oblivious to what was implied.  

Mal, who had been watching the whole scene unfold while sitting atop a wooden crate, cackled. Slapping a hand against his thigh, he cried, “He’ll have you jumping through hoops before that happens, Kit!” 

“Hoops?” Tyril echoed the word, confusion frowning his brows as he stared at the human. “How could that help?” 

His reply prompted the other two to double over with laughter; Mal wheezed, and Arwen used the back of her hand to wipe tears of her eye as the jokes kept flying between them.  

Tyril crossed his arms in front of his chest, “This is childish. You shouldn’t joke about proper stances. Losing your balance in a fight might cost your life.” 

Mal apologised, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes, not looking sorry at all. “There’s absolutely nothing funny about that. Ask Arwen.” 

Taking a deep breath, Arwen stifled a giggle. With a glare Tyril demanded the human to leave them be – which the latter chose to ignore in favour of aggravating the elf. However, by the time Arwen recovered her breath to continue training, Mal had already lost interest in the elves, focused on the small piece of driftwood he was carving. 

“I’ll behave,” Arwen promised Tyril, and adjusted the stance, moving her legs further apart, much more used to the sway of the ship by now. “Better?” 

“Foot.” 

She corrected the position of her right foot and lounged forward. The seriousness of his expression softened a little as a small smile hinted at the corner of his mouth. 

“You are a fast learner.”  

Tyril is not one to offer compliments freely, therefore, whenever he does, the rare inputs fuel her confidence. Unlike him, Arwen received no proper combat training. Her knowledge was acquired by observing the guards training and helping test the swords forged by Aylin, the village’s blacksmith. She never had enough coins to afford one, no matter how much she wanted to, and had to make do with the arches and bows she crafted herself.  

“Are you a battle mage?” 

He raised one black eyebrow at her, and she laughed. 

“Relax! I’m not planning to seduce you like Auriollo did. At least not to steal your powers, anyway.” 

Blushing at the joke and flirty wink she threw his way, he avoided her gaze when speaking his next words, “This is reassuring...” 

With three long steps, he returned to where he was standing before, leaving her room to strike the air again. 

“So, are you?” 

Watching her through a curtain of long hair, he tucked a few strands behind one ear, nodded and folded his arms in front of his chest. The elf’s statuesque figure returning to the same rigid posture. 

“Can you teach me?” 

“I’m not a teacher.” 

“Please,” she said with her most adorable pleading eyes, and his gaze lingered in her face as if struggling to understand her words. 

“Why would you desire to learn this sort of magic?”  

“We’re facing the Shadow Court, Tyril,” she replied as if the reason should’ve been obvious. “I need to learn all I can.”  

“An untrained mage can be dangerous. To themselves and others.” 

“Not if you train me.”  

“At Undermount, children are tested and spend years studying to master a single craft. Time is not a luxury at our disposal.” 

“Teach me just the basics. We can start with that lightning chariot. That sounds cool and useful. No blisters on these feet...” she laughed at her own joke, but he did not. The seriousness creasing his features.  

“Magic is not the only thing you should rely on. Build your abilities first. Use your senses. Learn how to hold your own with a sword... and to be patient. That’s what you need most.” 

“Patience without action is useless,” she muttered, frustrated with the condescending tone, lowered the sword and wiped the sweat from her face. She craved a bath – a real one, with clean and not salty water –, but that won’t be possible until reaching land. 

“Look at Nia,” Tyril said firmly, and Arwen glanced at the priestess on the other side of the ship, she was practicing evasive movements with a young orc pirate like Tyril had suggested. “Light magic is powerful but isn’t free. Like everything, it comes with a price.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Tyril crossed the distance to stand beside her, maybe to be certain she understands his next words. 

“Every time someone uses their magic, it’s fuelled by some of their own lifeforce. They’re trading away their life for it.”  

“What?” the question came out too quick and her gaze darted from his face to Nia’s, who has been teaching her magic but failed to mention anything about this high price or the costs of helping them in this journey. “It’s draining her life?” 

Tyril sighed and nodded. The silence lingered while Arwen processed the news. 

“The Light has great purpose, but shouldn’t be spent frivolously. A trained mage learns the time to use their magic and the time to spare it.” 

“I’ll try to... remember that,” Arwen sighed still looking at Nia, wondering about what she learned, and he nodded before walking away to where the Priestess was. 

Seeing Tyril approaching, Nia waved him and Arwen, oblivious to their conversation; and the orcs dared the elves to come spar with them. Tyril declined the offer, but suggested Arwen could use the practice, and she'd very much enjoy any distraction from this terrifying concept. 

The first one who volunteered was too young and eager to prove herself. When she lunged for an attack, Arwen batted her sword away with her own. A final blow and the orc fell. All finished in a couple of minutes. 

The second one was also very young, but his body was massive and all solid muscles. 

“Think you can beat me, landrat?” he cried, slapping a massive palm against his bare chest. 

Arwen defended herself from the blows and the quips; but didn’t anticipate when her opponent managed to get close enough to punch her side with his free hand. The force made her lose her balance, and he tripped her. On the ground, she managed to roll over and avoid being kicked in the ribs. 

“Can he do that?” Nia asked with concern, watching Arwen clutch her side before getting up. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” 

“Don’t expect the enemy to be fair,” Tyril answered, but his words and gaze were fixed on Arwen, who had gotten back to her feet and was standing next to Mal. “We must use whatever advantage we have.” 

The advice hit the mark. Even though the orc is stronger, she’s got agility and another ability that can’t be quelled with force – and few resist.  

“Don’t fuss about it,” she dismissed Mal’s concern and winked at him before turning around to face the orc, placing a hand on her hip. “I like it rough,” her voice had that sexy breathiness that matched perfectly the flirty look she threw at her opponent. 

The suggestion in her words was not lost on him. 

“Can you really take it rough, landrat?” he quipped; and they circled each other, none taking the initiative to a new attack. “There’s a lot of me to take.” His thumb glided from the tip of the sword to the hilt slowly and deliberately.  

Smirking, she looked appraisingly from his chest to the bulge on the leather trousers, and teasingly licked her lips. “Oh! I surely can take it,” she said with a sultry voice, come-hither eyes focused on him. “All of it.” 

“Bold words.” 

“And so very true.” 

Mal snorted somewhere behind her, but she ignored him. 

“Why don’t you come here and show me what you got, big boy?” 

“Wanna put on a show for yer friends, do ya?”  

He let his sword fall to the other hand, before changing hands again. A distraction. She could be patient and offer a distraction too.  

She bit her lower lip, slow and deliberately, while gliding with unexpected elegance to one side, pressing him to continue their dance around each other.  

“Didn’t peg you as the shy type...” Her words finally reached her intent when the other’s sword was readied for an attack. Already counting the steps when he lunged forward, she smirked. Spinning aside, out of his reach, his sword hit a wooden crate, allowing her to hit his side with a turning kick, then hooked her knee behind his knee, which caused his weight to lean dangerously to one side. The final blow was a strike with the hilt of the sword against the unprotected area under his ribs, and despite the solid muscles, he let out a pained groan and kneeled.  

The tip of her sword lightly touched his chest, and it was over. 

“Well played,” he laughed off, self-aware of the looks upon them. Taking the offered hand to stand up, he whispered close to her ear, “Are ya still showing me those other moves ya have?” 

“Impress me next time, and who knows...” Arwen winked and handed him back the sword. 

“Maybe, I’ll do that.”  

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Mal muttered watching Arwen walking away to receive Nia’s praises, her gaze already locked with Tyril’s. 

“That was unwise,” Tyril chided.

“But it worked.” 

“You cannot...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “...charm your way out of a confrontation.” 

“Do you want to bet?” 

Tyril scowled at the suggestion.  

“I'm in!” Mal joined the conversation, jumping from the wooden crate and landing with a loud thump on the deck. “5 golden coins you can’t!” 

“Do you even have that kind of money?” Tyril asked. 

“Won’t you like to find out?” Mal wriggled his eyebrows and smiled at Arwen. 

With a shake of their hands, the challenge was accepted. 

“If I can charm my way --” 

“You get the gold, Kit.” 

Cursing the tidal currents under her breath, Arwen struggled to walk to the berth. The closer they got to the shore, the more difficult to stay on one’s feet, and the more she craved to step on dry land. 

Even the hammocks were swaying less than gently and squeaking in a haunting manner, like they were voicing the souls lost at sea.  

Mal, however, didn’t seem to mind any of that at all. Lying down in one of them, he ignored the fuss before debarking and looked pensive, a distant gaze fixed on the ceiling. An unusual quietness; she wondered what could have possibly gotten to him.  

From the berth, Arwen picked up a blanket, shoved inside her bag and glanced at him. 

“We’re almost ready to debark,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the lower berth, giving him the opportunity to talk, if he wished. “Got your supplies?” 

“All settled.”  

Mal jumped from the hammock, leather bag under one arm, hitting the ground with a loud thump. Sitting on the berth with knees bent, elbow on one knee, he stared at her with intense brown eyes and she knew something was definitely off.

“Do you trust them?” he asked in a low conspiratorial tone. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused, but he gave her a knowing look and she knew exactly who were they – Tyril and Imtura.  

“I do.” 

He tilted his head, examining her expression like when they play card games.  

“You’re not convinced.” 

“Nope,” he replied, an annoying popping sound accompanied the last syllable. “But if you’re certain...” 

“Any reason why we shouldn’t?”  

“They are not like us.” 

“Bold adventurers?” 

“Aw, Kit,” he cooed as she were a little kid, and patted her arm mockingly. “I’ll miss your sense of humour when this is all over...” 

“Then humour me, and say what it is worrying you.” 

“My job is knowing the likes of them.” Them as in nobles and wealthy folks, she understood. “Can we trust them not to use us – the commoners and less relevant members of the party – to save their asses?”  

“They are not that kind of people!” she protested. 

“They are exactly that!” he retorted, keeping his voice low. “Elf boy is a fancy lord in some shady heroes’ journey and Immy probably only want to get back at momma dearest...”  

“And what about you?” 

“You know me,” he said with a smirk.  

It’s been less than a fortnight since their paths crossed; despite all his bravado, charming smiles and attempts to keep his distance, the little he’s disclosed about himself, his family and his past growing up in the slums of Whitetower have been enough to give a sense of understanding about him at most. It would be imprudent to claim to actually know him –  and he’s acutely aware of that –, but whatever pieces missing in both their lives – family, home, choice – is something relatable, that brings them closer.

“I’m here for the adventure.” 

“And the gains,” she added, and he shrugged. 

“That too. The more shards we get, the more I can sell in the end,” he winked at her. “I only need to guarantee there won’t be any stabbing in the back while I sleep...” 

“Someone told me trust is forged like a sword,” Arwen said, repeating the concept heard from Tyril, “with fire and patience. Considering everything we’ve been through, there's been a lot of fire to forge these bonds! Practically unbreakable!”  

Mal raised a brow, looking sceptically; and she continued, “I believe we can trust them.”

“Elf-boy clearly dislikes me.” 

“Can he be blamed if you keep calling him that? And doing your best to get on his nerves?” 

“Oh! I could do a lot worse. Trust me.” 

They laughed. 

“So, you admit you’re aggravating him on purpose.” 

“Anger makes people show their true selves.” 

“And punch you,” Arwen said. “First lesson learned at Riverbend’s tavern was to never piss off someone who could wipe the floor with you.” 

“Is that why you treat his lordship so nicely?” he questioned with an amused smile, “Or do you really fancy him?” 

“Tyril is the first elf I’ve ever met.” 

Mal looked at her the same way he did that evening after learning how she and Kade had been taking care of themselves most their lives. And something clicked.

“Your family?” he asked.

Little does Arwen remember before Riverbend. Her mind is like a dark abyss that engulfed most of the memories of the early years of her life, including the night she lost her family. Her mind holds but fragments, images that could be memories or parts of a tale her mind weaved to offer some comfort: there’s the gentle face of a female elf who had the same lavender eyes she does, but hers glowed in the dark, like the ones from the felines who huddled in the barn during the coldest nights. The unnatural dark of a moonless night and a sort of ethereal music sang in an unknown language. The elf’s whispers telling her to run and follow the river before conjuring some spell over her head while anointing her forehead with something that smelled like rosemary and thyme and lingered long after she was rescued. The shouts. The smoke that makes the air taste like bonfire and suffocate. Too vividly not to be a memory. An orange sky. Sharp branches gnashing at her arms and face while she ran away, never looking back, only stopping when her eyes contemplated the riverside. 

All the elements that feed her nightmares.

Countless nights she was awaken by images of herself running that same path again and again but not finding the river, and the suffocating smoke filling her lungs until she collapsed... But that does not matter now. 

“Who knows?” she shrugs. “Probably dead. Vasol and Leoda found me wandering the woods, hurt and starving. I was too young, scared and alone to remember anything...” 

How many times did she hear the tale of how the gods favoured her, allowing her to come out unhurt of whatever happened to the pilgrims, the fire and not perish in the woods? If not for the stray piglets that wandered, the farmers wouldn’t have ventured that deep into the woods that day and come across the starving child.

However, frequently, she wondered if she was truly deserving of the gods’ favours, why haven’t they spared her family from meeting a horrifying fate? Why was she left behind all alone?

Not elf, not human. Not really part of anything. 

“Tyril might have answers for my questions, or maybe point me in the direction where I could find them...” 

“And why would he do that?” 

“Isn’t that what friendship is about? Helping each other?” 

His hand patted her knee with uncommon gentleness, and he sighed. 

“I hope your faith doesn’t mislead us.”

The word us leaves his tongue with such ease, that warms her heart. 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll have your back, Your Magnificence. Trust me. You’ll get your treasure in the end.” 

The fog enshrouds and covers everything like a blanket.  

No more sky.  

No more ship.  

No sight of the shore. 

The world’s existence reduced to the cold white nothingness and the roar of the sea trying to drown them.  

The rowboat rocks beneath their feet; the waves crashing and crashing against it. Threep doesn’t leave Nia’s bag, while she holds it close to her chest. 

Arwen shivers with the cold. She strains her eyes but cannot see the other boat where Tyril and Mal are. The turbulent sea washes away the memories of the sparkling blue waters from days ago, when she rowed a similar boat with Mal. Her arms struggle to manouvre the oar. If Imtura and the orcs have any fears, they hide it incredibly well.

The captain shouts louder than the waves.

They keep going. 

It’s impossible to know how long it takes for them to get to the sands. The crunching sound beneath their feet is sweet music and brings instant relief. The boats disappear into the fog, and the six of them contemplate the path ahead. 

Barely a moment to rest, they leave the beach.

After crossing the challenging sharp rocks close to the shore, they walked a path meandering tall grass blades undulating with the wind. Seabirds announcing the beginning of a new day as the sun struggled to shine through the fog. 

When the first beams of sunlight shine over the immense estuary where the waters of the river and sea meet in a mix of the lightest and darkest blues, greens and golden, the world was reborn with mesmerizing colours. 

Arwen stops a moment to admire the sight, grateful for the successfull outcome.

Distancing from the shore, the party followed the large river. Even when they lost sight of it, the sound of the running water guided their steps.  

An hour later, they descended a path to the riverbank where it was safe to drink and fill their canteens with fresh water.

Arwen got greedy. Shedding her cloak and baring her arms, she washed her hands and face with the cold water. Filling her cupped hands, she quenched her thisty with loud gulps, and was met by Tyril’s curious or judgmental stare - she wasn’t sure which and couldn't care less. 

When everybody was done, each retrieve their bag from the ground filled with blankets, bedrolls, and food enough to last till they reach a market in a village a day away. In the meantime, they might forage for food, before setting camp. 

Mal and Imtura took turns leading the group through the woods, sharing tales and trying to convince the other who was tougher and the most adventurous. Their booming laughs would erupt from time to time, despite Tyril’s warnings in the back of the line. 

“Let them bandits come, if they think they can take us!” Imtura cried, fingers gliding on the heads of her axes. “I could use the fun.”  

“How daft can one be? To see a tree-sized orc and two elves and still try to ambush us instead of running the other way?” Mal said and nudged Tyril. “Not to mention me, Mal, the Magnificent! Don’t you think, elf boy?”

Tyril tried to shoulder Mal, missing the much shorter human; however, the other wasn’t imprudent enough to remain in the same place, whistling while prancing away. 

“It’s not common bandits you should be worried about...” 

With that last warning, there was still animated chatting and laughter, but they were considerably less noisy. Walking beside Nia, Arwen would get closer to Mal and Imtura to hear their tales, joining their laughter. 

When they stopped next to eat the rations, the sun was high in the sky, long past midday. Nobody showed signs of tiredness and, except for Imtura, everyone was clearly satisfied to be walking on dry land once more. 

A fallen trunk became an improvised bench where Arwen, Nia and Mal sat, Imtura picked the shadowed roots of a large tree and Threep was munching on dry fish bathed in sunbeam; Tyril, on the other hand, sat on a large bolder the furthest away from the party, but still close enough to join the conversation if he wished to – which he clearly did not.  

At first, the conversation between bites was light and delighted the five sitting closer, but soon, other matters couldn’t be ignored. Since the could talk more freely, the Shadow Court became the main topic.

Nia tried to answer Arwen’s questions, but quickly ran out of answers; Mal could not be more amused by Arwen’s insatiable curiosity and the hundreds-of-questions-a-minute flying from her lips. All this questioning might be starting to annoy Tyril, who shoved a half-eaten piece of dried meat back in his satchel, and it amused Mal even more. 

“How does this work exactly?” she asked. “Can you just feel anyone’s magic? Anywhere?” 

He nodded, sipping the water from the canteen, then proceeded to put away his belongings.  

The topic was fascinating. She wondered if her magic was strong enough to be sensed by others but refrained from asking. 

Tyril stood and commanded the others to continue the journey; Arwen jumped from the trunk to follow him, while stashing her belongings inside her satchel.  

“From what you said, shadow magic feels differently,” she stated, “and you can sense it in humans. How?” 

“Can’t you?” he asked over his shoulder, looking somewhat disturbed by her lack of abilities.

Arwen simply shook her head.

His long strides halted, being replaced by a pace she could keep up with, and she welcomed the change. Walking beside him, Arwen looked him closely. The sunbeams filtered through the leaves illuminating his sharp features, and his eyes turned a slightly darker shade of the usual clear blue. A very lovely shade. But that was not the thing keeping her interest.

“Is it an elf thing?” she asked, “To identify the shadow?” 

“Not exclusively, no. It’s possible for those with magical affinity to perceive the distinct aura surrounding them,” he explained, and Nia agreed.  Her voice sounded from behind the elves, in her usual polite manners.

“But it’s hard to notice it, if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”   

Arwen knew Nia's words were meant to make her feel better for not being trained in magic and so unfamiliar with such matters.  

“Is it possible to hide one’s shadow?” Arwen asked nobody in particular. 

Nia pondered for a moment. “I don’t believe it is,” she replied, shaking her head. “Magical affinity leaves a distinct trace. You can keep it controlled, make it less threatening to those around you, but... to hide it would take constant effort... and vigilance...”  

Tyril fidgeted with one sleeve, then looked at Nia. The hesitancy was unusual, considering how he behaves so self-assuredly.   

“From my research, I learnt, it’s possible that highly trained magic wielders with knowledge of old magic could conceal it better than some of the humans corrupted. The use of magical artifacts could enhace the power or help mask it. But to be in the possession of such artifacts could present a challenge to start with.” 

“Not impossible, though,” Mal added, “You wouldn’t believe the market for relics from old temples!” 

“That’s disturbing...” Nia clutched a hand over her mouth, and the worry creased her delicate features.  

Now she understands Tyril’s hesitancy. To trust them with this knowledge could endanger him and his quest, and the fact he shared it with them is a good sign.  

The silence drew Tyril’s attention to her, his stare fixed on her face. Was he analysing her reaction? Was regretting telling them? Maybe the silence after so much talking simply felt unnatural. Whatever his reasons, Arwen still had one more question.  

“The mayor,” Arwen said softly, observing the absence of reaction to the word. “Was he the first?” 

“No.” After a pause, Tyril added, “And certainly won’t be the last.”  

Despite the emotionless words and expression, his breath hitched, and his jaw tightened – none of which remained unnoticed by her. 

“You sound... regretful...” Nia’s voice sounded behind the two elves. 

“It’s my duty.” 

“It’s a heavy burden,” Arwen remarked, trying to meet his eyes. However, Tyril averted his gaze, looking ahead.   

“It’s mine to bear.” 

His words were sharp as usual, but much less filled with the certainty he’s trying to convey. At that moment, she felt the urge to hug him and tell him he was not alone, not anymore. Of course she wouldn’t hug him, he’d probably stab her for even trying... 

“You have us now,” Arwen said, her words coated with a hopeful smile. “We’ll do it together.” 

Similar words were uttered by Nia, and the iron-willed orc captain assured they’d travel to the ends of every world to defeat this evil.  

Tyril’s steps faltered, but he didn’t stop his resolute march or looked at Imtura, Arwen or any of them.

“If we don’t rush, we’re not reaching Valenlon before nightfall.” His deep voice echoed, urging the others to match the pace he settled, but Arwen noticed a slight curl in the corner of his mouth.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.  

[nocturnalghoul]

Okay, I'm gonna work on the prompt from you soon, but to you I'm giving “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” with Water!Dew and Mountain. What say you?

Water!Dew my beloved!

I say that you actually get two short little scences because I loved the idea of both Mountain and Dew getting to say it and couldn't pick just one.

Rating: General | ~1.2k total

Below the cut for Scrolling purposes :D

Dew notices that everytime the ghouls go to spend the day by the lake, Mountain never goes any further than waist deep. Everyone else floats out and lounges in and around the deeper depths, leaving the earth ghoul to mostly hang out by himself with occasional check-ins from the pack. 

Mountain never seems upset about this, content to lounge near the shore and let the cool water lick at his legs while he lounges back on the sand, but Dew figures that it has to get a little lonely sometimes.

Dew continues to swim around occasionally stopping to look at Mountain as various members of the pack slowly wade their way deeper and deeper towards the center of the lake. Eventually the earth ghoul is the last one left in the shallows and Dew notices the way his gaze follows the other members of the pack as they settle into their own routines. 

Dew lazily paddles his way over towards Mountain until he catches the earth ghouls eye, getting a warm smile that encourages him to pick up the pace. He is sitting along the bank, just deep enough in the water for it to come about an inch above the earth ghouls navel and looking surprisingly content. 

“Hey droplet, I’m surprised you aren’t out floating with everyone else” Mountain rumbles as Dew grows closer, shifting from swimming to walking through the shallow water and plopping down next to him. 

“Hmmm, I wanted to hang out with you. Do you mind?” Dew asks meekly, suddenly worried he might be ruining Mountain’s quiet. 

“Not at all, come here” Mountain lilts, shifting so open up a space in between his legs. “Come and sit with me for a bit, the company will be nice.”

Dew climbs over the earth ghoul’s leg, letting himself get comfy as he leans his head against the taller ghouls chest. Mountain wraps his arms around him pulling him closer, and Dew can feel the happiness radiating out of him as the earth ghouls deep rumbly purr encourages a purr of his own to make a rare appearance. 

Mountain’s grounding presence surrounding him in a tight embrace in combination with the presence of his element leaves Dew more relaxed than he can ever remember being. He lets himself melt back into the comforting touch and next thing he knows he is on a big towel on the shore. 

The water ghoul lets out a content yet confused chirp as he lifts his head up off of Mountain’s chest, stretching and looking up at the earth ghoul. 

“Wha’ happ’nd” he yawns out.

“You fell asleep in my arms. It was kind of adorable, but I carried you here so we could both lay down.” Mountain returns with a comfortable grin. 

“”M not adorable” Dew counters with another distorted squeaky yawn that even he grumpily has to admit does sound a bit adorable.

“Sure thing little lotus. I’m sure you're off to go back to floating around now?” 

Dew sees the tiny glimmer of hope in Mountain’s eye and snuggles back down into the earth ghouls chest, flipping over to give the other side of him a chance to get some sun. 

The return of Mountain’s deep purr and his large hands smoothing over his skin as he thoughtfully rubs sunscreen into Dew’s already sun-warmed skin feels heavenly. He could swim and mess around in the lake anytime, moments like this with Mountain are priceless. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mountain originally thought Dew’s offer to braid his hair for him was a joke, but here he was sitting on the floor between the water ghouls legs while he slowly worked out various knots and tangles in his hair. He had been lamenting about how tangled his hair gets after working in the greenhouse and Dew casually offered to braid it, stating that Mist showed him how after she got tired of how often the water ghoul let his hair get tangled while swimming.

Even after it seems like all the tangles are out, Dew continues to run his fingers through Mountain’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp with each pass. He lets himself relax back into the couch, allowing Dew to play with his hair however he wants. 

Eventually he feels Dew start to section off small pieces and make his way along the right side of his head as we weaves them together. Mountain had only asked for a simple braid but already Dew was getting involved and intricate with it. 

“Lean your head against my thigh so I can better access the other side near your ear. I wanna work some tiny braids into a bigger one.” He mumbles, adjusting Mountain to rest comfortably. 

Dew pulls as much hair free from being trapped against his leg then goes back to playing with it, making long purposefully strokes of his claws along Mountain’s scalp and continuing until the hair slips through his fingers. The feeling is so nice Mountain quickly settles into a quiet purr, content to let Dew do whatever he pleases for now. 

After an unknown amount of time, Mountain feels Dew shifting around him as he attempts to lay a blanket across him with one arm, the other draped across his chest rubbing small soothing circles.

Mountain looks up at the ghoul and realizes the rest of his hair is mostly braided into a large intricate interconnecting braid and that Dew is now watching some cooking show. 

“Oh good, you're awake again. Now I can finish up” Dew mutters nonchalantly, taking his arms back to put the last touches into the braids. 

“How long was I out?” Mountain mumbled out wearily.

“Not that long really. I only finished braiding maybe 5-10 minutes ago”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I dunno” Dew shrugs out like the thought never even crossed his mind. “When you fell asleep in my arms, well between my legs really, it was kinda adorable. Guess I didn't wanna bother you”

Dew weaves the final piece of hair into place and then curls up on the couch, leaving a spot for Mountain to occupy next to him. 

“Also you never let any of us pamper you like this really and I thought it might be nice” Dew tacks on as Mountain settles down next to him. 

“It kinda was nice actually” he concedes. 

The two finish up the last of the show Dew was watching, Dew letting one hand rub along the nape of Mountain's neck while the other rubs his chest as he curls around the earth ghoul. Already Mountain can feel the edges of sleep attempting to pull at his mind once again as he watches the finishing touches get placed on whatever Mediterranean dish the program was trying to promote. 

“You know, we can move to your room and continue this if ya want” Dew mutters out quickly as he shuts off the TV in the living room. 

“Continue this, huh? Are you propositioning me? ” Mountain teases, doing his best to look shocked. 

A deep blush overtakes the water ghouls face as Mountain feels their cool skin begin to heat up. “Just kidding, I know what you meant. A nap sounds lovely poppy” 

Mountain lets Dew lead him down the hall, the smaller ghouls hand never leaving his back.

[shieldkeeper]

Writing Prompt: Call it a Day Word Count: 723

“This one is bored.”

“You or me, kupo?”

“Mmmm, both?”

Two lalafells had been left to their own devices upon Garen’s ship. Both of them recently recruited into the crew and given a set list of duties for each individual. Of course they were free to do as they pleased! So long as they did their chores and kept up with the rest of them.

Which was all nice and dandy and all, but these two in particular held no attention span for work for long! Even when they were playing nice and pretending to play the act of the landwalkers, their worlds were a little different in their own eyes.

Those born of mischief and play. A member of their respective tribe clad in glamoured disguise.

“Wishy washing the floors with hands are so boring. These ones should just fly and let loose our magicks to do the trick!” The ‘lalafell’ dressed in forest greens and bark browns whined in a sing song voice. Flailing dramatically in a way not befitting their form… before the guise held no further and they transformed into that of a masked sylphling.

The other ‘lalafell’ dressed in rags and his most notable featuring being a poof of white hair fluff blinked as eyes grew wide and lit up in mischievous glee. The best part about this whole ship crew thing was finding someone much like him, just looking for an excuse to cast whimsical wonders for a spot of fun.

“But won’t we but wrung out and forced to walk the plank, kupo?”

Garen, the captain of this motley crew, had gone to great lengths to emphasize to the two tribe members of their duties and how it needed to be done after all!

But the sylphling merely shrugs its small arms, beating its wings to float further up towards the ceiling. Olyxio would not suffer doing this the normal way any longer. “How else are these ones supposed to clean every nook and cranny? This one thinks it faster this way!”

With a flourish and flick of its wings, magicks did thusly fill the room as swabs and rags marched to their own beat. Whipping around the room as splatters of soap and water rained down from above. Mogcan, starry eyed by the display, could hold back no longer as they popped up into the form of a moogle, a triumphant little ‘toot’ from a horn as they giddily added their magicks into the fray.

Before long, anything in close proximity had been absolutely soaked as water and soap from all nearby buckets had been sprayed about the cabin and hull. Soap that lathered up quickly from the chaos, where it only grew in size instead of being infused with water for proper cleaning.

But the two of them were having fun with it! Everything was getting cleaned as promised! The captain would be so proud of them!

…

Except when the captain wasn’t exactly proud of them.

“Hey.”

The duo turned. There, standing at the entryway of the room and having come to check on how they were doing, was none other than Garen himself. He’d walked in at just the wrong time, getting just about instantly drenched in water! And Garen, who was usually so patient, so kind, so always warmly smiling—

Was smiling even now. Though not in a kind way as he loomed over the two shrunken crew members.

“How about we stop here hmmm?” Despite his smile, poison dripped in his voice. That was the sound of a land walker who looked about ready to strangle their lot! “Since you were so close to damaging our wood and all and likely sunk us if you continue.”

Both Olyxio and Mogcan instantly sensed they were in deep trouble, swift to frantically buzz around the air space in fear of what Garen might do them! Even bumping into one another before finally bumbling out of the room.

“These ones are sorry…!”

“Big big big time sorry, kupoooo!”

As the made a run for it, Garen simply sighed as he gazed out upon the mess they’d left behind. There would be… much to do in terms of drying out the room before all the water settled in. It wouldn’t be too bad, but he’d have to be fast to deal with their blundering…!

[piltover-sharpshooter]

Paint Me >:3

drabbles: send me characters and a prompt

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character drawing a picture of another [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

"So you see, being discontent with the newly raised taxes and the prohibition of Christianity, Amakusa Shirō lead a rebellion later called the Shimabara Rebellion, which..." And Chiasa went on to explain the complex intricacies of how a religion failed to gain a foothold on Japan after that, all the while Caitlyn nodded along and listened while continuing to paint her.

The Kami was naked, laying left side on the floor, one hand resting on the side of her face, her big fluffy tail on her leg, and even if she was talking she still had her trademark huge smile. Caitlyn had insisted that she was naked and without any 'glamour' or 'disguise' to her, no, she wanted to paint Chiasa in all her natural glory.

To any other High Class Piltovian it might seem like a parody, an intentional mockery of the usual standarts of beauty, specially the kind of beauty usually put on a canvas, but for her beauty came in all shapes and sizes, to make a painting of the Kami in all her glory was no challenge for her after the years of experience she had.

The challenge actually came in getting Chi-chi to stay in one place for long enough to finish it, something she admited freely was that she had a hard time staying in one place for too long, but that's why Caitlyn implemented a cunning tactic, and had asked questions of history all the while she was paiting, and so far it seemed to be working.

Hmmm, perhaps the tail could use some more light brown to balance it, and was it big enough? She held the brush as a measurment tool as she looked at the Kami. "Would you say that Christianity had no chance of gaining a foothold in Japan?" She asked.

"Well I wouldn't go THAT far, but you have to understand that it's a land always steeped in tradition. Let's go back to Francis Xavier, I mean he came to the Island with three converts so..." And on she went, all the while the painter listened with a smile, nodding along, as she slowly finished her masterpiece.

@risingshine

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #9: Lend an Ear

Content warning for references to pregnancy and miscarriage.

Élodie's newest client was as Garlean as they came: tall and slender as an Elezen with little of the grace to match, along with pale skin, white hair, and a third eye. She wore open-toed shoes and a simple cotton dress for the summer heat that would not conceal so much as a brassiere strap. Élodie hadn't the faintest idea how she intended to carry home an entire satchel of banned materiel without attracting notice, though perhaps her heritage afforded her sufficient protections against allegations of smuggling.

She sorely doubted, from the woman's general unease, that such protections were at the top of her mind.

"You're here for the nettle leaf?" she asked.

The woman nodded.

Élodie approached with more caution than she might otherwise, though the woman bore no weapons. She handed over the satchel tied off with a ribbon, and the woman did not even look inside it to confirm its contents as she passed Élodie enough gil to provide for herself for another moon.

"Where was this gathered?" the woman asked.

"The Peaks," she replied, somewhat more stiffly than she'd intended. The woman waited, perhaps for her to elaborate, until Élodie continued, "I've had one of my suppliers put in stocks and another shot through the skull in the past year alone, so I can say no more for the sake of their safety."

The woman's eyes widened. "I… I understand."

Élodie doubted it.

"I mean only to ask… it's safe to take for pregnancy?"

"It is." Élodie had already provided a handful of others with nettle from the same harvest for that express purpose, including a friend from her days at the Velvet Glove. "And it is safe to take in conjunction with other herbs, particularly those for cramping and nausea. But I must advise you to speak with your medicus before administering self-treatment."

"Hmmm." The woman glanced down at the rough-spun satchel in her hand. "With all due respect to the man, his only contribution during my previous pregnancy was to relegate me to endless bedrest. Not that it helped one whit for me or the babe."

Élodie offered only a nod in lieu of her condolences - and the woman gave a gentle smile in response.

"I would caution you to handle this particular batch of nettle with care," Élodie said. "It is still potent enough to irritate the skin." As the Saintsmaker of all people could readily attest. "How do you typically prepare your herbs?"

"In a tea, with filtered boiling water-"

Élodie shook her head. "Boiling water will burn the leaves and limit their effectiveness. If tea is your preferred method, wait three or four minutes after boiling your water before steeping."

The Garlean woman stared at her in unabashed awe. "How did you come to learn all this?"

"The same way such matters have always been conveyed: I was taught."

Judging by the woman's wistful frown, she could not relate. She lingered for a moment longer, only to say, "I am sorry; I have taken up more than enough of your time. My thanks to you for the advice. And for agreeing to meet somewhere so out of the way."

The gil she had paid had more than made up for the trouble, but all the same, Élodie replied, "You are quite welcome."

"My name is Tacita."

"Tacita," Élodie repeated, and found herself wishing she could offer up the same honesty in return. "I am Lilou."

All traces of nervousness vanished from Tacita's face as she smiled. "Should I find myself needing more nettle, I will know who to reach out to." She made for the warehouse door as confidently as though she were leaving a Noble District pastry shop, and waved on her way out. "Until we next meet, Lilou!"

Only after she was gone did Élodie worry how her husband - for surely she had one - might react to her purchase.

[giggles-and-freckles]

4. With Obi-wan and Padme

4. "Just hold my hand." // hm, this one got a bit more angsty than I intended. oopsie daisies! tw: blood mention (from these prompts)

“Oh.”

Obi-Wan sighs and pulls his cloak tight around him. “Hello, Senator.”

“I thought I was going alone,” she says flatly. Sure, he’s seen this icy side of her, on Naboo, in the Senate – but never experienced it so directly.

“The Chancellor recommended an escort.”

“And you were the choice?” Padmé asks, then snorts derisively. “How convenient.”

He dips his head. “We should get going.”

The trip is short. Obi-Wan flies and Padmé stares out the viewport. No word is shared between them, not even an exchange of coordinates. Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to ask for a relay or any assistance at all, as he might have done if it was Anakin or anyone else in the passenger seat. Instead, he goes at it alone.

When they arrive on world, something shifts within Padmé. He senses it before he sees it. But her steps become heavy and her shoulders grow tight. Suddenly, he notices how little make-up she is wearing and how defined the rings beneath her eyes are.

So she hasn’t been sleeping either.

He feels a twisted sort of relief at this shared pain.

“It should be a quick exchange,” he says, as they approach the city centre. “They’re expecting us. We give them the money, they —”

“Give us a human being,” she spits. “Yes, I know how a slave auction works, but thank you, Master Jedi.”

“Padmé,” he says quietly and braves a brief touch on her shoulder. It stops her, even though she doesn’t turn around to meet his gaze. Instead, he walks up ahead and turns so she has no choice. “You must understand that...what we’re walking into…”

The hard lines of her scowl crumple a bit into something softer and sadder. “I know,” she whispers, and Obi-Wan watches the tension leaves her shoulders altogether. It is immediately replaced by a heavy, palpable sort of grief. The kind that drags and pulls and takes years off of what should still be considered youth.

Obi-Wan would know.

“We know he’s alive. We have confirmation of that. The Council...they — we know he’s alive. But, Senator...beyond that. His state may…” Obi-Wan swallows. “It may be unnerving. We must hold to our mandate.”

Her face twists bitterly. “And not let our emotions get the best of us,” she fills in. “Yes, have heard you favour that lesson.”

He begins to say something in response, but her eyes dart down apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was...I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Are you ready?”

She takes a breath and he watches as poise rolls through her. Just like that, in a single moment, she has mastered the lesson. For more than a decade, Obi-Wan has walked Anakin through this practice, to no avail. But here, now, the senator has achieved it with a snap.

Obi-Wan lifts an impressed eyebrow. “You would have made quite the jedi, Senator.”

“You would have made quite the politician,” she counters.

“Well, there’s no need for things as insulting as that,” he replies, then leads the way into the city centre.

It doesn’t take long to find the auction. And maybe it’s the Force, maybe it’s the rolling waves of anger and agony, colliding into each other over and over, that makes Obi-Wan immediately find Anakin amidst the crowd of paraded men, women, and children.

Padmé stumbles beside him.

And immediately Obi-Wan realises his folly. He was foolish to allow her coolness to dictate his silence on the journey here. A debrief should have been in order. Certainly, Padmé has seen more suffering than any young woman should, but — Obi-Wan feels decades older than her. It was his duty to prepare her for this. And he failed.

Anakin senses their presence, too. He lifts his gaze from the shackles at his feet and meets Obi-Wan’s eyes. Obi-Wan pulses comfort through their bond. You’re going to be okay, he tells him. But Anakin’s eyes widen the slightest bit and Obi-Wan knows he’s seen Padmé.

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs, shakily. “Look at —”

“Shh,” he says under his breath, his eyes flickering around the crowd that has gathered. If this is to go off without a hitch, they must stay discreet.

“His...my gods, the blood. It...it…”

“I know,” he says in a hushed voice, his own stomach churning in on itself. Anakin’s body is charred by burns and slices. His flesh appears minced and raw, blood both caked and freshly dripping from several wounds.

Padmé wavers beside him. “Obi-Wan —”

“Just hold my hand.”

[tryan-a-bex]

Five Guesses Why Hob is Immortal and One Broken Plate

(The Scooby Gang tries to figure out why Hob is immortal.)

Read it on ao3. Inspired by this Tumblr post by @just-j-really and the continuation by @pumpkinkingsalem.

“Ruh-roh!”

Rattle, rattle, clunk, clunk, wheeze-shudder.

“That doesn’t sound good!” Daphne exclaimed as Fred pulled the Mystery Machine over to the side of the road. Fred shook his head in resignation and looked around at their surroundings.

“Time to grab a late lunch, I think, and then I’ll take a look at the engine!” 

“Oh yeah, man! Food!” Shaggy interjected, piling out of the van and heading straight for The New Inn across the road, Scooby hard on his heels.

“I hope they allow dogs,” Velma commented as she followed at a more sedate pace. 

Inside the Inn, Shaggy and Scooby were contemplating the menu. Fred, Daphne and Velma joined them as the brown-haired man singing under his breath behind the counter looked up and gave them a bright smile. Fred grimly reined Shaggy’s order in to an amount this size establishment could produce in a reasonable amount of time, and Velma asked if it would be a problem for Scooby to stay under their table.

“Oh, no, that’s quite fine, as long as he’s polite!” Hob (according to his name tag) reassured them. Then he turned away to start preparing their order, once again humming the little tune he’d been singing when they entered.

“That’s such a pretty tune he’s humming!” Daphne exclaimed as Fred took their number and turned to find a table for them.

Velma’s forehead wrinkled. “It has the tone progressions you’d expect from a tune from the late Middle Ages, but it’s not one of the ones I’m familiar with.”

“What are you saying?” Fred asked as they all slid into a booth, Scooby getting comfortable under the table where he had the best chance at scraps.

“It just seems weird that he’d casually sing such an old song,” Velma pondered.

“Yeah, and what’s with his weird name?” Shaggy asked.

“It’s a very early variation on Robert,” Velma explained. 

“Ooh, do you think he’s immortal?” Daphne asked. “Because a time traveller wouldn’t just be serving food but an immortal might!”

The crew looked at her and nodded contemplatively.

“Oh, man! Like what if he’s a ghost!” Shaggy exclaimed. They all looked surreptitiously over at the man preparing their food.

“He’s not translucent,” Daphne pointed out. 

“He’s not trying to scare people,” Velma added.

“We’ll put a pin in that one,” Fred decided. “What else do we have?”

“He could be a Chosen One, a valiant hero who spent hundreds of years in another land where time flows differently, like Narnia or something!” Daphne suggested, sighing romantically.

“Hmmm, that’s a good one,” Velma agreed. “I wonder if he still has magic now that he’s back?”

“He’s good-looking enough for it!” Fred pointed out as Shaggy nodded in affirmation. Then they paused in their speculation as Hob brought their drinks over to their table, still smiling as he distributed them and nodding in response to their thanks as he turned back to the counter, humming the same tune once again.

“Any other ideas?” Fred prompted once he was out of ear shot.

“It’s possible he was captured by fae, and only recently returned,” Velma suggested.

“Do you think he would tell us if we asked him?” Daphne wondered.

“Let’s try to figure it out first!” Fred said.

“Like, I’d kidnap him if I was a fae,” Shaggy admitted, stirring the ice cubes in his drink. “I don’t know though, like, what if he’s a vampire? That would be scary!”

“Ooh, yes!” Daphne exclaimed as the whole group shivered deliciously.

“Like, we should order something with lots of garlic, and then we’ll see if he can serve it!” Shaggy suggested enthusiastically.

“No more food, Shaggy!” Fred protested.

“He seems fine in the sunlight coming through the window,” Velma pointed out, as she sipped her smoothie.

“He may just be a very old vampire,” countered Daphne. “I know! We could stake him!”

“No!” shouted Fred, Velma and Shaggy, in tones of command, reason and terror.

“Scooby,” Fred ordered,  ”when he comes over again, you sniff him to see if he smells like blood.”

“Ro rampire!” Scooby protested, shrinking back farther under the table.

“Oh, I’ve got another one!” Fred leaned in, gesturing with his mug. “What if he made a deal with the devil? For immortality in exchange for his soul? Or his first born, or something?”

“Oooh, that’s so evil!” Velma objected. “He had such a sunny smile, it’s hard to believe that of him!”

Daphne repeated a lesson they’d learned well in their time together: “You can’t always trust appearances!” The crew looked at Hob as he came out of the kitchen, trying to surreptitiously scan him for devil’s marks.

Hob approached with their food, once more giving them a bright smile. He put a plated sandwich in front of three of them and a plate with five sandwiches stacked on it in front of Shaggy. 

“Do you need anything for your dog?” he asked, hunkering down to reach a hand out to Scooby.

“Could we have a bowl of water? And any meat scraps you have in the kitchen?” Fred requested.

“Sure thing!” After Scooby sniffed and licked his hand, he gave him a little scratch on the head and turned back to the kitchen. A moment later he was back with a couple bowls, one with water and one with scraps.

Scooby and Shaggy dug into their food as the rest of the gang watched him return to the counter. The door opened as he passed it, and they watched in fascination as he greeted the newcomer with “Hello, love!” and a kiss on the cheek. The tall, thin, milky pale man with wild black hair and a long black trench coat took a seat at the counter, and they could see as he started a conversation with Hob that he was familiar with the space as well as the man.

“If he was captured by fae, that’s the fae that took him!” Velma’s eyes were wide, but not even she was sure if it was curiosity, fear, or the compelling charisma of the stranger. She took a big bite of her sandwich, pretending not to watch the two men at the counter.

“I don’t know,” Daphne said, chasing the olive that rolled off her sandwich and across the table when she took out the toothpick, “he doesn’t seem mind controlled, or resentful of a captor.” It was true, Velma thought. The two just looked very much in love.

Shaggy finally looked up from his meal. “Oh, like, that one’s the vampire, for real!”

“Ro rud!” Scooby argued.

“No blood, eh?” Fred considered. “What if your first idea was right, Shaggy, and he’s a ghost, and this guy is Death???”

“Yeah, that could be! He fits some of the mythological stereotypes for Death characters!” Velma enthused.

“Oh no!” shuddered Shaggy, “Not Death! That’s almost scary enough to turn me off my food! Almost!” he clarified, squishing his remaining three sandwiches together and taking a big bite.

”Or,” Daphne countered, swallowing a mouthful, ”what if he was in Narnia and this is the wizard who brought him back to Earth!?”

“He looks very wizardly, I could buy that,” Fred nodded, picking up the second half of his sandwich. “I can also see why he’d choose to stay here with Hob!”

“Yeah,” Daphne agreed. “Hob’s very good looking, and so is the wizard, for that matter! They look besotted with each other!”

“On the other hand,” contended Velma, toying with her crusts, “if it was a deal with the devil, this could be the devil. Maybe he’s some kind of incubus demon. Or would he be a succubus?” she wondered, squinting at him. Scooby moaned in fear from under the table.

“Ro Reath! Ro revil! Ro remon!”

Fred shook his head in sympathy as he considered his last bite. “There are too many options and not enough ways to narrow them down. He seems like a decent person. Maybe we should circle back to Daphne’s idea and just ask him.”

“No, no, no!” Shaggy shook his head vehemently. ”He could be a ghost! He consorts with a fae, or maybe the devil! If that’s a wizard or Death, I don’t want to offend him by interrogating his boyfriend!”

“Don’t look now,” Fred whispered conspiratorially, “but he’s looking over at us!”

Daphne, of course, looked. When the dark stranger smirked at her, she jumped so hard she knocked her nearly empty plate to the floor. She tried to catch it, succeeding only in falling from the booth as it smashed and Scooby carefully wolfed up the leftovers of her sandwich.

“Jeepers!” she shouted from the floor.

The whole gang froze in terror as the stranger languidly rose from his stool, pacing gracefully towards them while calling over his shoulder, “Hob, bring a broom.”

He stood over Daphne, looking down at her with a slightly bemused expression on his face, and held out a hand to help her up. She blushed a becoming pink and courageously took his hand, getting to her feet as Hob ran up with the broom.

“Ah, no worries, I’ll have this cleaned up in a moment!” Hob got to work with the broom as his dark lover smirked again.

“Hob, they are not worried about the plate.”

“What? They’re not?” Hob looked more closely at the gang, suddenly noticing that their faces were betraying much more fear than could reasonably be attributed to breaking a plate in an eating establishment. He looked curiously at his tall friend.

“They have been telling themselves stories about you, and about me.”

Shaggy was not the only one who thought he might pee his pants at that. The gang was petrified, waiting to hear their punishment. They hadn't considered that he might be able to overhear! Well, thought Velma a bit hysterically, we’ll probably be able to tell which theory was correct by what the punishment is!

“Have you, then?” Hob inquired with another one of his lovely, sunshiny smiles. (It was slightly reassuring.) “You should tell us your stories, then. He’s the Prince of Stories.”

The gang took a collective breath of relief as Hob and the Prince of Stories pulled over chairs.

Velma began, “You see, we noticed the song you were humming. It’s about as old as your name, but neither name nor song are in current use.” 

The Prince of Stories glanced at Hob. “I told you your humming would get you in trouble one day.”

“It’s been over a hundred years since I’ve been caught! These kids are more observant and well-educated than most people, and they’re really good at connecting dots if they got “immortal” out of that!”

“Hmmmmm.”

Fred continued, ”We ruled out time travel because serving food didn’t seem like quite the thing for a time traveller.”

“We thought you were, like, a ghost! And that guy was Death!” Shaggy announced.

The Prince of Stories nodded. “It would not be the first time I was mistaken for my sister.” The gang tensed up again at that, until Hob’s calm countenance reassured them again. Hmmm, thought Velma, we’re in the realm of gods and eldritch beings rather than fae or wizards now.

“So you’re not a fae, then,” she guessed. “That was another theory, that you were a fae who had captured Hob and kept him in Faerie while time flew by in this plane of reality.”

Hob grinned. “Ah, yes! That was one of my initial theories as well, when we first met! I also thought perhaps I’d accidentally made a deal with the  devil!” He laughed and gazed fondly at his lover.

“I am neither fae nor devil.”

“That rules out my theory, then,” Fred said. “You didn’t seem like the type.”

Daphne nodded. “Scooby ruled out vampires earlier, so that leaves my theory. I thought you were a Chosen One, a hero who travelled dimensions and rescued worlds, returning here when your adventures were over, to retire with the wizard who facilitated your travel.”

“Oh, I like that one, Dream!” Hob gazed adoringly at his lover.  “How romantic, a conquering hero, settling down with my magical love!”

“You are that for me, as I am for you.”

“So you did live in Narnia?” Daphne asked breathlessly.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing so fun as that.” Hob glanced at Dream, who nodded minutely. Apparently he had decided these young people had earned the truth with their stories. “I’m just a regular human who decided one day that I wasn’t going to die. And I haven’t.”

The Prince of Stories smirked at him. “It helped that my sister wanted to set me up with you.”

“She has good taste!” Hob protested.

“Oh, I am never complaining!” Dream retorted.

“But who are you?” Fred insisted.

“I am Dream of the Endless, and that is the end of what I will tell you.”

The Endless, thought Velma, and took it as a challenge.

Notes:

Next

The wild conspiracy boarding on the Fuckboi Dream discussion server was the catalyst that finally got this out of my head and onto paper. You, my friends, are unhinged in the very best way. The fic is a WILD RIDE and I highly recommend it! (Be over 18 and mind the tags before you read the fic!) Thank you, @dancinbutterfly for writing the fic and @meadowziplines @hellfridge and @tabrises for conspiring with me that morning. (If I missed anyone lmk and I'll tag you.)

With much appreciation for my excellent beta reader, SadRumiHours!

Also, I feel like I should explain why Daphne blushed becomingly. If I had been in Daphne’s head, she would have blushed nervously. If I had been in Dream’s head, she would have blushed inexplicably. But you see, I was in Velma’s head…

More of my writing is under #tryana find it back.

[kookscrescent]

A Needy, Desperate Fuck Up (m) │ pjm

❒ pairing: jimin x female reader ❒ summary: jimin’s desperation leads to a fuck up. ❒ prompt: "Fuck fuck fuck fuck, that's not fucking good!" and "Fuck! I'm not on the pill!" ❒ rating: nc-17, 18+ ❒ genre: smut, pwp ❒ warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, cursing, accidental creampie, rough sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, choking, crying, Jimin is neeedyyyy for that puzz puzz ❒ word count: 3.1k │ unedited ❒ release date: may 8th 2021 ❒ disclaimer: This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

The door to your bedroom barely has a chance to close properly before Jimin has you pressed flat against the wall. The coldness of the exposed brick wall has goosebumps rising on your rapidly heating skin, and you shudder at the contact.

But you don’t care. All you can think about is the way Jimin feels pressed against your body – the hard panels of his toned chest and abdominal muscles, not to mention his hard length growing against your leg.

You can’t help but moan at the feeling. It’s been way too long since you and Jimin have had sex! He’s been extremely busy with recording for the new album, and his schedule is almost jammed packed every day, and on the rare occasion that he has a few hours of free time, you would much rather have him spend it on catching up on some rest.

But something had come over him the minute he opened your front door and stepped inside. Like you normally would, you’d yelled out a hello to him, letting him know you were in the kitchen, with your hands buried in the dirty dish water as you were cleaning the few dishes you had neglected since the day before. You hadn’t heard him call back a hello to you like he normally would, but you thought he might just be tired and didn’t really think anything of it. However, you did hear him entering the kitchen and stopping just behind you. About to ask him if he was hungry and if he wanted you to make him something, you’d dried your hands on the nearest rag, but you didn’t even manage to get a proper look at him before his hands were in your hair and his lips were claiming yours in a hard kiss.

It took your breath away. Literally. The rag fell to the floor without a sound and without pulling away to question his sudden behavior you grabbed his face in your hands, trying to bring him closer. He took the hint and stepped forward, pushing his chest and pelvis against your body. he was hot and cold at the same time. His clothes cold from the slight breeze outside, but his hands and lips warm and hot against your skin.

Things escalated pretty quickly from that point and you honestly can’t really remember the journey from the kitchen to your bedroom. Every breath you each take is rushed and breathy, and all you seem to recall is hands frantically trying to remove pieces of clothing and said clothing landing haphazardly on the floor in a line behind you. Hard and wet kisses to your lips and neck, and your hands desperately trying to undo the string on Jimin’s joggers.

At this point you’ve both managed to get each other undressed, both of you now lying naked on the bed, Jimin hovering above you, your legs caging him in and his hard cock resting between your soaked folds as he slowly grinds himself against you. Your mouths are a hot mess, lips slipping and sliding over each other and your tongues erotically dancing.

It’s like all hell have broken loose and the both of you have just lost it. You have no idea what has spurred on his sudden desperate need to claim you, but you can’t say that you mind one bit. You’re equally as desperate to have him, not having felt him inside of you for almost three weeks!

Throwing your head back, you groan as the tip of his cock nudge your clit. “Shit, that feels so good!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” You find his eyes, hoping to god he won’t stop moving against you.

He leans down for another kiss. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your sweet pussy!” He rumbles, lifting to his hands so he can watch his cock effortlessly slid between your folds, your slick coating every thick inch of him. “Fuck, I need to taste you baby.”

With a jerk he moves down your body, your legs automatically parting wider to make room for him. Once settles between your legs, Jimin looks up at you from under lust clouded eyes, his pupils so dark and intense that you become slightly nervous. Pressing a kiss to the juncture of your thigh, he gently and ever so slowly runs the tip of his pointer finger down your slit, collecting your juices before sucking his finger clean.

He groans and you almost dissipate on the spot. His finger returns to your heat as another kiss is pressed to the juncture of your thigh. He repeats his previous action – running his finger down your slit, collecting your arousal, but he stops at your entrance, teasingly circling your hole. He pushes in just an inch before retreating and you mumble a frustrated please. You lock eyes, just as a second finger joins the first and he pushes in all the way to his knuckles.

Your head hits the pillows in a sigh of relief. He pushes in and out of you in a slow and tantalizing rhythm. It has your head swimming, and you need more.

“Please Jimin, please! Don’t tease me.”

“Don’t tease you baby?” he repeats and following with a kiss right above your clit. “Why not?”

Arrogant shit, you think!

“It’s been so long…” you mumble, your voice muffled by the pillows when he begins to pick up the pace. “Make me cum!”

“Hmmm,” he places another kiss above your clit, so close to touching but never enough to give you the relief you want. He begins scissoring his fingers inside of you, and the familiar fire starts in your stomach. “Want me to make you cum with my mouth babygirl?”

You nod frantically! “Yes yes yes ye- ahhhh!” You’re abruptly cut off by the feeling of Jimin’s tongue finally making contact with your clit. He gently licks it – long fat swipes with his warm tongue.

The sounds coming out of you is only spurring him on. Two fingers turn to three and he sucks your clit so violently it has your hips rising from the bed. He easily folds one arm across your lower abdomen, holding you down as he continues to suck.

The fire picks up, and your cries grows louder and louder with each suck of his mouth and each thrust of his fingers. You can’t remember a time where you’ve ever wanted, no needed, to cum so desperately. You can almost taste the release on your tongue. So close.

You can feel how eager Jimin is to make you explode on his tongue as well. He pushes the entirety of his face into your soaked pussy. His tongue working you so feverishly, his nose bumping your sensitive clit.

You grasp at his hair, pushing his face deeper into you and he groans in respond. The vibration sending a wave of tingles through your clit and all the way down to your toes, making them curl. You feel like your brain is no longer connected to the rest of your body, your legs and hips having a life of their own – bucking wildly against his face, trying to reach your high.

Slipping his fingers out of you, he reaches up to press your hips to the bed with both of his hands, making you completely immobilized.

You’re about to whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, but Jimin is quick to replace them with his fat tongue instead.

“Ah…ah Jimin- oh god!” You moan.

He continues his feast. Slurping and sucking every inch of your wet pussy. You’re so close, so fucking close to cumming, every nerve in your body is on high alert, ready to explode in a fit of euphoria.

Jimin moans between your legs. Loving the way your sweet juices cover his face and tongue. If he’s not careful, the mere taste of you on his tongue combined with the way you sound when you’re losing control, he could probably cum.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” You plead, digging your fingers deeper into his scalp, yanking at his hair.

He doesn’t stop. Jimin keeps going, your moaning pleas urging him to go even faster, and he throws his fingers back into the equation. Plunging two fingers into your tight hole and working them at the same fast rhythm as his tongue on your clit.

When your grip on his hair becomes almost too painfully tight, he knows your cumming.

“Shit shit shit shit shit! Ohhhhhhh…!!”

He keeps lapping up every inch of you until he’s sure you’ve ridden out every small inch of your orgasm. Only when your hands fall limply to the bad, does he ease up.

You’re panting, trying to catch your breath as Jimin kisses his way back up your body. He seems just as out of breath as you are, but you can tell that he’s no way near finished with you.

And you would be sourly disappointed if he were.

*

“God you’re so hot!” Jimin breaths, lips hovering above yours, barely touching. He thumbs your lower lip, drawing it down before flicking his tongue across it. Locking his eyes on yours, he holds your gaze as he works his hips between your legs.

Supporting himself on one elbow, he lets the other arm travel behind your body to roughly grab onto your ass cheek, squeezing it tightly as he grinds his pelvis against you, letting his pelvis rub against your still sensitive clit as his cock is nestled deep inside of you.

Lifting, you reach for his mouth, your breast pressing against his sweaty chest. You whimper into his mouth as he slowly begins drawing back his hips and pushing his cock back inside with a hard thrust. He repeats this several times. Each time pushing a little deeper and thrusting a little harder.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, he whispers, “I’m gonna make you cum so hard on my cock.”

“Please!”

“Would you like that?”

“Yes! God yes!”

He forces one of your legs over his shoulder as he moves to sit on his knees, trapping your remaining leg between his. This automatically causes you to roll to your side, changing the position and making him go deeper.

Fisting the sheets, you hold on for dear life as Jimin begins fucking into you at an almost violent pace. He kisses your shin as he uses your leg as leverage to push himself faster and deeper inside of you.

It’s a bruising pace – hard, fast and rough.

“I-I… Jimin!” You hoarsely call out his name as heat washes through your body and the knot in your stomach begins to tighten.

“Shit! Are you gonna cum baby?” His eyes zero in on the way your pussy swallows his cock so desperately, your wall tightening and sucking him in. “Fuck you’re getting so tight!” He whines almost painfully.

You cry out, your orgasm crashing through you like a volcano erupting. Your entire body is convulsing and tingling with the sweet feeling of the release you’ve missed so much. And even when you’re spend and don’t think you can take much more, Jimin keeps going. He fucks you through the waves aftershocks till they subside, and you feel a new knot of fire starting to form.

Your pussy spasms around his cock and it feels like he’s splitting you open. “Oh my fucking god!”

“Fuck! How do you keep getting tighter?!” He throws his head to the ceiling with a deep growl, his fingers digging into your flesh and he slows down to let your both catch your breath.

“Kiss me please,” you manage to stammer out the few words, needing to feel him close to you again.

With your leg still over his shoulder, he leans down on his elbows till he’s able to slot his lips over yours in a sweet kiss. You claim his mouth, your hands cupping his cheeks as your tongue licking its way inside. It’s wet and messy, and Jimin switches his rhythm to match the pace of the kiss. Slowly, he grinds his hips against yours as your mouths make love. It’s a complete switch of mood from what it was mere seconds ago. But none the less, the know forming in the pit of your stomach keeps on growing.

Jimin pick up the pace once again. Frantically, desperately snapping his hips against yours – the sound of your skin slapping together and the squelch of your juices as the pumps in and out, filling the room.

“Fuck,” he breaths and finds your neck, licking a fat stripe from your ear to the juncture between your shoulder and neck. He bits down softly and your face contorts in pleasure, hands scratching down his sweaty back.

You don’t know how he’s able to keep going like this, but you’re not about to tell him to slow down or stop. Not when the tingling feeling of another orgasm starts spreading through your body. But before the feeling can take full flight, Jimin stops to sit up on his haunches, and you whine loudly.

“Noooo!”

He laughs, running a hand through his thick wet locks. “Don’t worry babygirl. I’ve got you.”

And he does. He doesn’t waste a beat and immediately pick up where he left. He spreads your legs wide, his eyes focusing on the way he sinks his cock into your sweet heat, the way you drink up every inch of him. The sight nearly makes him cum on the spot and he has to concentrate real hard not to blow his load inside already. He’s not done with you yet!

Having gone so long without being inside of you, he’s not ready for this to be over!

“Jimin- ah ah ahhhhh- hnnng!” Your back arches off the bed as the crown of his cock rubs against your sweet spot. Jimin responds with his hand on your throat, putting just the right amount of pressure. You can feel your eyes tearing up at the intense amount of pleasure running through your body, he’s everywhere! You can feel him everywhere! And you don’t know how much more you’ll be able to take, feeling spend and used after 2 orgasms already.

“Baby please,” you beg him teary eyed. “Need you to cum!”

Jimin shakes his head, his hair falling over his eyes as determination takes over his features. “Gonna make you cum again!” he rasps, throwing his other hand into the mix as well – using his thumb to draw harsh circles on your clit.

Your hips buck against his touch and the fire in your stomach intensifies to the point of pain. “I-I can’t…” you sob, and you desperately try to find something to grab onto, eventually settling on Jimin’s thighs, your nails digging into his skin. You’re sure that will leave a mark in the morning.

“Yes you can!” Jimin growls, teeth biting into his bottom lip and he begins pounding into your so ruthlessly and desperately. He fucks you so hard and fast, that you’re almost positive that the bed will break.

He squeezes your throat a little harder, making the tears stream down your cheeks – wetting the pillow below you.

“Fucking cum! Cum around my cock baby!” he breathes, leaning down to kiss the tears from your cheeks.

The slight change in position, has his cock reaching so deep inside of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, fingers clawing into Jimin’s back – trying to hold on for dear life as he pounds you to your third orgasm for the night.

“Jimi- fuck…ahhhhhh!” you cry hoarsely, as you cum so hard that spots start dancing in front of your eyes and your breath catches in your throat when Jimin tighten his hold on your throat the slights bit – adding fuel to your already too intense pleasure.

“That’s it,” he grunts, continuing his abuse and fucking you through your orgasm, now chasing his own as well.

“Oh my god, please!”

You’re so desperate to feel him fall apart, to feel him lose control as much as you are. Wrapping yourself around him, you pull him as close as possible, your hands grasping his ass, pushing and pulling him towards you and your hips matching him thrust for thrust.

“Yesssss! Fuck ____, just like that. Just like that,” he chants, and you cry out in relief when you feel his muscles tensing up under your fingers and his cock twitching inside of you as he cums in hot spurts.

He continues to swirl his hips slowly as you both come down from your high. He finds your lips, placing small, sweet pecks of love over and over again as you both try to find your breath.

“That was…” you mumble against his lips.

He cracks a smile, “It was.”

Eventually Jimin stops moving completely, just lying on top of you with his arms caging you in and his hands running lovingly through your sweat soaked hair. You really need a shower before you go to bed. But you stay like that for what feels like an eternity. Just kissing and touching each other. You’re pretty sure you won’t be able to move once you have to get out of bed, your legs feeling completely numb. But at this rate, you’re not even sure you want to get out of bed at all – the way Jimin feels on top of you, his weight pressing you down, the way his cock feels inside of you and his warm cum still filling your-

“Did you come inside of me?” you ask him abruptly, your eyes going as big as saucers.

He looks down to where your bodies are connected, confused for a second. “Did I? I guess I did.”

“Jimin!” You begin to panic, your voice going up an octave. “Fuck! I’m not on the pill!”

Jimin’s entire body stiffens upon hearing your words. “What?!” He still asks, not sure he heard you right.

“I’m not on the pill right now!”

“What? Why? You’ve always been on the pill!” He says, sitting up and pulling out of you. You wince at the slight sting he leaves behind from pounding you so thorough and good.

“Yes, but remember last month when I had my doctor’s appointment because I was having really bad cramps? She told me to stop taking them for a while to see how my body would respond! I clearly remember telling you this and that you needed to wear condoms!”

“WHAT?!” he practically screeches in disbelief, watching as his cum slowly leaks out of your abused entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, that’s not fucking good!”

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

HI IT ME AGAIN this time for Solas x Alora, pushing a strand of hair behind their ear?

Thank you so much @a-song-in-the-stillness and @dadrunkwriting for the lovely prompt! Enjoyed writing this one a lot! It's very fluffy and cute :3

Rated G: Fluff, ~600 words

If You Loved Me | Exalted_Dawn

Alora paused in her readings, shaken from the ink-wrought words by the subtle press of autumn-chilled fingers against her temple. They lingered only for a short moment, enough to put a shiver in her skin, before brushing away a single strand of flaxen hair that had fallen out of place. She huffed slightly. “You know, if you continue to do that for every time it slips, I’ll never be able to get through the story, Solas.”

The elf resting in her lap chuckled, silver eyes bright with bemusement and clearly unmoved by her half-hearted scolding. “Then perhaps you should bind your hair better, so that I do not have to keep fixing it all the time, vhenan.”

“Hmmm… That’s funny. I don’t remember ever asking you to.” Alora dropped her book slightly, thwacking the spot between Solas’ brow with the edge of the cracked leather spine. She doubted it would leave a red mark, but a small rush of self-righteous satisfaction flashed through her chest regardless as she watched the man scrunch his brow in distaste. She giggled to herself, and returned her attention to her novel. “Besides, it's not so easy as that. And if you had any hair, you might remember that.” 

Just as soon as she located her spot on the page, the book was ripped from her hands and snapped promptly shut. 

“Hey!” she yelped, her anchored hand shooting out to chase after her stolen readings, but too slow. 

Solas was still staring up at her from his spot, but this time there was an unmistakable air of challenge in his gaze. He pitched his eyebrow high as he held the book above his head and away from her, just out of reach, a cocky grin hidden just behind the tilt of his lips. 

“You are a poor sport,” she huffed, a scowl pulling at her mouth. “Please, give it back?”

His smile only widened. “If your arms were longer, you would be able to take it from me.”

“And if you loved me, I wouldn’t have to.” 

They both froze. 

The statement sat between them, lingering in the late day, garden air as the two simply held each other’s gaze– the moment almost stretching too long to be comfortable. Alora shifted in her spot, ears bright red as she ducked her head away from beneath the weight of Solas’ attention on her. She’d gotten too comfortable, and that word was still too new. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “I, uhm-”

The book appeared again before her face, held aloft between thumb and lightly callused fingers. 

Solas blinked up at her expectantly. 

“Oh,” she breathed, taking it gingerly in her hand as if the pages might scorch her. “Thank you… Ma serannas.”

“Of course,” he murmured, his voice nearly hoarse. The hand that he’d held aloft reached further, stretching towards and then past her face. As if snatching a moth from the sky, he caught another stray strand of her hair– displaced when she had ducked in embarrassment– and tucked it carefully behind her ear. “Please, continue your reading. Do not let me bother you further.”

His hand fell away, and suddenly, silently, she mourned it. 

With bright pink ears, born not entirely from the cold that chewed at her skin, she resettled and found her page again. Quiet fell between them once more as the written words poured from her lips. But as she read, one thought replayed over and over in her mind.

Maybe she would not mind it so much if he bothered her more.

[uncpanda]

Career Change

Prompt 24: Waking them up with gentle kisses

Warnings: The case refenced refers to a child case. There are no details only that the CARD team was needed, and that these types of cases take a toll on Hotch. 

Pairing: Hotch x GN!Reader 

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen Hotch sleep on the plane.” 

You glance over at Derek, who is standing right beside you. You give him a sad smile, “The kid cases hit him hard. I don’t think he slept at all the entire three days we were there. And despite the rumors he is only human.” You shoot Derek a conspiratorial wink and he smiles. 

“I think it might also have something to do with who he’s snuggling up with.” 

Your smile turns bashful. Your thirteen year marriage to Aaron was no secret. The two of you had met in the academy and become fast friends. And while you were guarding Ambassador Prentiss the two of you had become more. The two of you had made your way up the ranks of the FBI: Aaron to the BAU and you to the CARD team. 

As a result, the two of you were thrown together at work every once in a while. And you knew that while Aaron loved his team, he tended to keep his personal life, just that: personal. There were the traditional pictures of you and the kids decorating the office, but he really tried to keep work and home separate. You did the same thing. 

But sometimes it bled over. And while you had managed to distance yourself with the CARD team, learned how to dissociate in order to get the job done. Aaron never had; not when it came to kids. Your own children were the light of his life. He loved being a father more than anything. And more than once he had talked about going back to practicing law. 

You both tended to have sporadic schedules. But the two of you had found ways to make it work. As it was, you would both be up early for Jack’s soccer game, and then Ethan’s tee-ball game. After that you would spend the day as a family. 

When the plane lands, you stay in place. Aaron is still fast asleep, and you’re not ready to wake him up. He deserves this sleep. He needs this sleep. No one on the team questions it either. Instead, you continue to read your book, and wait. You last three hours before the need to use the bathroom gets the better of you. You feel bad, but you suppose going home to sleep is better in the long run. 

So, you employ Aaron’s preferred method to wake him up. You turn your head and kiss the top of his head, while you contort your arm to stroke his cheek. His face scrunches up and he twists his head to the side. You undo your seatbelt and reach over to continue placing kisses on his face. First his cheek, then his chin, then his nose, then his eyes, and finally his lips. He responds to that one. Figures. 

When you pull back he opens his eyes. It takes a minute for him to adjust to his surroundings. He sits up straight and rolls his shoulders before scrubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He looks adorably rumpled, and his hair is slightly messy. Your adorable husband. 

“When did we land?” His voice his rumbly. 

“About three hours ago.” 

You reach over to run your fingers through the sides of his hair. His sighs. “I need a haircut.” 

“You need more sleep. Let me use the bathroom and we can head home.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“You promise to still be awake when I come back?” 

“Yep.” 

You do your business and head back to find Aaron still in his seat, staring straight ahead. There’s a contemplative look on his face. You slide your fingers against the back of his neck. “What’s going on in that brain of yours SSA Hotchner?” 

He looks up at you, “I want another baby.” 

Your eyes go wide and you blink at that. You take the sentence in for a second, before sitting back down in your seat. “I thought we agreed to stop at two because of our jobs. We didn’t think it was fair if we had anymore kids because we’re always traveling and we didn’t want to take attention away from Jack and Ethan. Plus, while my parents love keeping the kids, asking them to do it with an infant . . .” Your parents loved watching the kids. They said it kept them young, and they were proud of you and Aaron and the work you did. Your dad had been an agent, and your mom had been an agent’s wife. They knew the drill. 

He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, “What if I wasn’t SSA Hotchenr anymore?” 

You blink at that. He’s mentioned going back to law before, but never with any real intention. But what you see in front of you is pure intention. There’s something there. “You have a job offer?” 

“Federal DA. My old law mentor called and asked me to interview, and I don’t know why I said yes, but I did. And the more I went through the interview process the more I realized, yes there will be some late nights, and yes there’s some danger, but nothing compared to what I have now. I could be home more with the kids. I could spend more time with you. 

“When it comes to our schedules . . . mine takes me away more than yours does. And I don’t know. . . something about this case just kind of cemented that.” 

Silence engulfs the two of you for a few minutes. Your voice is hesitant when you break it, “Why didn’t you tell me about the interviews.” 

“I thought you might be disappointed. You fell in love with the agent, not the lawyer. The last time I made a career change it ruined my relationship . . .” 

You consider your words carefully, “I would never be disappointed Aaron. You love the law. You always have. How many nights have I come in to you reading new law journals just to keep up with things. Or doing practice bar exams to make sure you’d still pass? If this is what you want, I say go for it.” 

He smiles at you and takes your hand, “And another baby?” 

You laugh, “Is a conversation worth having.” 

“Yeah?” 

You stand, “I haven’t said yes yet Aaron.” 

He stands too, and starts following you off the plane, “We make cute babies.” 

You just laugh and look back at your husband. Something about him seems lighter; less burdened. You don’t know if he’ll actually leave the BAU, but if it makes him happy, you’ll support it. And you could only love him more for it. 

[thepenultimateword]

For the ask game: Fire, Ice, and Winter!

Fire: What’s a scene that you are dying to write?

There are several.

First, I’m super excited to kill off one of my characters in my novel To Play the Game, because she is actually immortal and it’s going to be like a big plot twist/reveal! (I really want to see my writing groups reaction mwahaha. I’m also just excited in general for the ending of that book because it’s going to be CHAOS! And the villain is finally going to get a face reveal and I love hiiim! He’s so crazy!

Second, I’m really excited to write the backstory for one of the antagonist characters in another book called Wanderthought. It’s always on my mind, but I’m excited for when I finally reach the point where I can reveal it to the other characters! In that same book, I’m also dying to write the MCs’ relationship, because currently they tolerate each other but they’re going to be so in love someday! 🥰

Third, there’s this moment in Dangerous Attraction coming up in the distant future! I need to build up the relationship between Paramour and Guard still but basically Guard is going to be used as leverage and Paramour’s going to be like “kill him, I don’t care.” But then when they actually start to hurt them they’re like “Stop, stop, stop! Ok!” And until this moment it’s very unclear whether Paramour has genuine feelings or not and just ahhh *chef’s kiss*

Fourth, Big Bad will have a similar moment near the end. Supervillain is going to realize Villain might be killed by the third supervillain, so they jump in and kill the supervillain and rescue villain, and it’s going to be so charged with Villain’s panic from almost dying and Supervillain’s panic from almost losing them, and they are sitting with their foreheads together, lips centimeters apart, so so close to touching, and then they both get a hold of themselves and separate before they can actually kiss because they’re both still sort of in denial. But it’s going to be ultimate slow burn tease to their real feelings.

The problem is these are all at the end of the stories and I’m not even close to any of them. And I like writing chronologically because often lots of plot changes in between me writing the beginning and ending.

Ice: What do you always get stuck on when writing?

Fight scenes. I hate them. It’s so hard to make them actually interesting and not a boring play by play. Part of the reason I haven’t continued some series is because I know fight scenes are coming up. I also get stuck on naming things, I usually mark anything I need to come back to as “tk” (to come) and that helps, but it still eats in the back of my mind and makes it hard to move on.

Winter: Have you ever written a story based on a holiday?  If yes, which holiday was it for and what was it like?

Hmmm, I think the closest I’ve gotten are holiday themed prompts. I did one for Thanksgiving and another for Black Friday. Oh and one for Valentine’s Day too. I think if I were to write an actual story though, Halloween would be a fun one! Halloween with real monsters involved (I know that been done already, but I don’t care)

[crying-over-spilled-feels]

Touch the Sky

Disclaimer: The characters in this drabble are owned by Julia Quinn, Shondaland, and Netflix and are thus not owned by me. In addition, I am also not receiving any monetary gain from this drabble. Based on the Kate and Anthony Week Day One prompt challenge “Riding At Dawn”.

Word Count: 1744

 -------------------

           As the sun barely begins to peek over the horizon at Aubrey Hall, a sudden stirring begins to wake the Viscount Anthony Bridgerton from the most stupendous slumber he has had in at least a week’s time.

“Kaaaate?” Anthony nearly whines, covering his chocolate-colored eyes as his darling wife yanks open the curtains to their bedroom in such an intense gesture that the man barely has time to blink before sunlight infiltrates their safe haven as a couple. “Must we rise so early?” he continues, uncovering his eyes and then taking in the absolutely gorgeous sight of Kate beginning to dress for the morning in a rather exquisite dress of emerald silk.

“You do wish to continue our morning tradition, do you not?” Kate inquires, turning around and fixing Anthony with one of the most seductive smiles she can manage at such an early time of the morning.

“Ah, I do love our morning tradition, my love. However,” Anthony stops mid-thought, pulling Kate backwards by her waist and into his waiting arms, settling his wife against his bare chest and fixing her with an equally suggestive smile. “I can think of several more enjoyable activities that the two of us could turn into a morning tradition now that you have finally been cleared by the blasted doctor following your accident,” the happily married viscount smirks, waggling his eyebrows in the suggestive manner that has been known to make Kate practically swoon.

Not that Kate Sharma Bridgerton would ever admit to swooning, mind you.

“And I think I can wrap my head around what exactly those activities would be, as you rather emphatically showed me the benefit of such a tradition twice last night,” Kate grins down at her husband, leaning in closer to his face and teasing him by letting her lips linger above his brow.

 -----------------

“Will you just kiss me already, you absolute menace of a woman?”

“Hmmm… I might just do that,” Kate Bridgerton murmurs, stroking Anthony’s cheek with one of her extremely soft hands, teasing her husband in all the right ways, turning his eyes alight with what one might call a ferocity of a wild beast. “However, I could just continue to tease you so if it means you will look at me like you are right now,” she flirtatiously challenges, a flame sparking in her eyes as well.

Anthony does not give his wife a moment to think further about it before he reaches up and crashes his lips against hers, barely giving either of them the chance to breath as the practically inhale one another in the kiss. Kate whimpers slightly against Anthony as he begins to move his hands up and down his wife’s spine, one calloused hand coming to rest on the delightful curves of her bottom, giving it a light squeeze in the process.

“I always look at you in that way, Kathani Sharma Bridgerton. As I have told you, my dear, you are the object of all of my desires, and I do believe I let you know that in many, many ways,” Anthony chuckles, his pleasing smile showing on his face before he presses his lips to Kate’s neck, inhaling that tantalizing scent of lilies mixed with her trademark soap. “Now, come back to bed where I can enjoy every last bit of seeing that exquisite gown…..On this floor…”

‘Well,’ Kate begins to think to herself. ‘Perhaps our morning ride can wait after all.’

 -----------------

           After spending nearly an hour longer intertwined with her husband, Kate finally manages to pull Anthony out of bed and convinces him to don something with color for their morning ride. (A feat to stop even the hardest battle-pressed solider in his tracks, to be sure, as prior to his wedding to Kate, Anthony’s wardrobe consisted nearly entirely of blacks and greys.) Walking hand in hand with Anthony out to the stables of Aubrey Hall, Kate accepts his hand and offer for a leg up onto the darling mare named Tulip’s Kiss and waits for Anthony to mount Nectar in turn. Yes, they still had the orange-colored horse since Anthony had bought him for Edwina when he was attempting to court the younger Miss Sharma before he realized the error of his ways and his undeniable attachment to Kate. Since he had freed Nectar from a fate of being sold to the knacker’s yard, Anthony could not simply return the horse after Edwina politely rejected the thoroughbred, so Anthony had simply moved him to Aubrey Hall to make a fine addition to the country home’s impressive stable of horses. After all, hadn’t Hyacinth been begging Simon for a horse since the Duke and Daphne had married a little over a year ago? Now was the time he could best his brother-in-law in the eyes of his youngest sister once and for all!

“Ready to begin, my love?” Anthony questions, not wanting to fall prey to his wife’s tricks once again this morning.

“Of course, I am, dear husband. The question is, are you ready to bite my dust for the thirtieth day in a row?” Kate smirks, grabbing the reins in her hands and preparing to give Tulip’s Kiss the signal to begin running across the hills like a bullet shot from a smoking gun.

“You exaggerate, clearly!” the viscount laughs, though deep down, he fears that this allegation is very and entirely true, as Kate has bested him in nearly ever one of their morning rides which always inevitably turn into races.

“Says the sore loser! We are to begin now!” his viscountess laughs loudly, spurring her mare on, leaving Anthony’s mouth agape as he takes a moment to process Kate’s habitual slight of his horsemanship skills.

“I’m going to catch up to you this time, Kate!” he playfully roars, and had they not been on horseback, Anthony would have made a beeline towards his wife and tackled her into the grass before wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“We shall see about that, Anthony!”

This woman would surely be the death of him, but in the best way possible.

 -----------------

           Following their race, which Kate won, though Anthony would never admit to it, the two enjoy a rather pleasant ride through the hills and vales of Aubrey Hall riding next to each other with a pleasurable silence falling between them. Such was the time that Anthony would point out his favorite landmarks or spots that Edmund took him and Benedict as small children, explaining that he and Kate would have to picnic there soon, that they would have to swim in that lake once it warmed up later in the summer, and with the promise that they would go apple picking in the autumn once the trees bore their sweet fruit. During this time, Kate also pointed out several different species of bird that she knew the common and scientific names of, noting that she is particularly fond of the quails and ptarmigans. It is once again during these times that Anthony Bridgerton is absolutely grateful for the fact that Kate never hid her true self around him and that she was well-read and intelligent so that they could hold very wonderful and magnificent conversations about anything and everything but were still also able to enjoy silent moments between the two of them, simply enjoying the sounds of the creek rushing past them or the wind whistling through their hair and the sprouting May trees. Yes, having such an intelligent wife was definitely a perk of being married to Kathani Sharma Bridgerton, as he would never have to force conversation with her and they were always teaching one another something new.

 ---------------------------

           With the ride concluded around lunchtime, Kate and Anthony retired back to Aubrey Hall in search of some lunch as well as some tea. To his credit, Anthony had been rather interested in trying some of the delectable chai tea that Kate spoke so highly of during their courtship period and engagement while she had been recovering from her accident at Lady Danbury’s house and they spent time promenading throughout Mayfair. When he tried a glass of chai tea crafted by none other than his loving Kate, Anthony had been sold on the idea of chai tea right then and there and decided that he would rather like to travel to India with Kate once they were married and see more of the culture that sculpted his darling bride into the woman before him. However, the chai tea he saved for their time in Aubrey Hall, as it would not do to tell Violet Bridgeton, the matriarch of the family, that he was no longer in need of her to have his tea with a splash of milk and no sugar waiting for him at teatime when the newlyweds came to visit, now accompanied with a filled cup and teapot of ginger cardamom chai tea waiting for Kate.

“Absolutely delicious,” Anthony sighs in content, sipping at his cup of chai tea Kate had made for him as they sat on the ground floor patio. “I love our mornings together, Kate. And I love you more,” he smiles, sneaking a kiss from his wife’s lips as she prepares to raise her own teacup to drink from now that she has poured Anthony’s cup.

“I love you, too, mera pyaar,” Kate whispers, using her affectionate Hindi nickname for ‘my love’ she has started using for Anthony in their tender moments alone. “I hope every morning can start as lovely as these past few months have,” she admits, snuggling into Anthony’s chest as they lie on the outdoor chaise, enjoying their chai before Anthony has to get to work on his accounts for the day.

“They surely shall if this is how you react to them, darling. I would do anything to make you happy.”

“And I you. Now, drink your tea before it grows cold.”

The times that Anthony and Kate can truly be themselves and not simply be the viscount and viscountess society expects them to be is on their daily morning rides where they jump so high, they might as well touch the sky as the breeze blows through their hair. Not to mention, the chai tea really sweetens the deal as well, and that would be a morning habit that is never going to be broken in the Sharma-Bridgerton household, no matter how crazy life may get in the coming years of their long, loving marriage.

 ---------------------------

Author’s Note: Here it is, everyone! My contribution for Day One of Kate/Anthony Week for the ‘riding at dawn’ prompt is completed, and I am rather pleased with how this turned out. Kate and Anthony are definitely my Bridgerton OTP in both the show and the books, so I just had to join in on the festivities this week! The show was phenomenal this season, and I love every last scene that Kanthony had together! (My only criticism is that they did not have more scenes together and that so much time was spent on the “love triangle” between Edwina, Kate, and Anthony as well as on the side-arc of Cousin Jack Featherington. I much rather enjoyed the book plot of Edwina deciding that Kate and Anthony were rather suited and backing off to allow her sister a chance at happiness and in doing so realizing that Mr. Bagwell was the one for her. I was rather rooting for Edwina and Mr. Lumley to end up together in the show-verse since Mr. Bagwell did not seem to exist, but alas. This is why I added the tag book plot canon with show cast canon because I love the plots of the books very, very much but absolutely adore the castings from the show of Regé Jean-Page, Simone Ashley, Charithra Chandran, and Adjoa Andoh!)

[shinigamiplayroom]

19. “You better watch your fucking mouth” for the prompts?

Ghul!! Hai! Thank you for sending this in! 😭💜

19, huh?

“You better watch your fucking mouth.”

(highkey think this number was so fucking yummy)

Okay okay soooo the first character I see for you is Shiggy. And I definitely think he would say this 🥺

You’re sitting on the bed while he’s sitting on the floor. Both of you with controllers in hand playing a game in which you’re solidly holding your own. Makes you feel a lil smug. See, Shig loves to talk shit when you play against each other, before actually going back through the combos with you (once he’s thoroughly crushed you) to teach you what moves you can do to combat the onslaught of attacks his character dishes out.

But today is the motherfucking day, you might actually end up beating him. The fact that you’ve survived this long, parrying, dodging, blocking just like he taught you. He should be proud right? You’re such a good student 😌 You remind him of this, mixing the sound of your chuckles with the sticks and button combos being hit in a symphony of chaos that you can feel his body tensing up from.

A mischievous thought crosses your mind. If you can attempt to tilt him enough, he might skew his focus and lose. Sure it might not be fair and square but fuck that, it’s a win. You shift one of your thighs to graze against his shoulder, making his eyes flicker to your legs when you land another successful barrage of hits against his fighter. “Awh gettin a little distracted are we?” He hardly scoffs, already seeing through your little plan, but you could see his jaw tighten. Good.

He wins round one but while the next round starts you lean down and whisper in his ear, “You’re gonna try harder this time, yeah?” It takes him a fraction of a second more to get his character to move this time, giving you an opening to strike first, which carries on through the round, securing your victory in round 2. you were really feeling yourself now. This was working, his fingers swiftly pressing the appropriate buttons to continue the fight without a word. But the heat ebbing off of him was palpable.

Your mind, drunk with the idea of finally beating him, kept your game up. “Winner take all babe, you gonna let me beat you?” One of his hands scratched at the skin of his neck before gripping the controller again, starting the final round. Both of you were so close to winning it could go either way and he was so focused you knew if you didn’t distract him it was highly likely you would lose and never hear the end of it. So you taunted him: “Real close to being my bitch, aren’t ya babe?”

His response took you so off guard you lost track of the buttons you were pressing. He laughed, a full hearty mocking laugh, before turning his head toward you, his eyes locking onto yours while he tapped the last buttons he needed to land a critical strike and massacre your fighter on the screen.

“You better watch your fucking mouth,” he smirked, before tossing his controller on the ground. He was standing between your legs and pushing you down onto the bed in the next moment, “Hmmm…” he growled, “Looks like you’re gonna be my bitch, yeah?”

smut prompt list

[boontaeveboba]

I Have Some Experience

Pairing: Rebels Rex/Fem! Reader

Rating/warnings: NSFW, 18+, swears/insults thrown at reader, angst(?), age gap, PiV (unprotected, wrap it before you tap it, oral (fem receiving), praise kink if you squint

A/N: “old man” Rex can absolutely get it. He would treat you right. Might be a ~lil~ OOC for some characters, but we are BIG “protect Rex at all costs” here. This probably should have been split into more than one part, oopsie.

A deep sob racked your chest. You were trying to calm down, but after the fight with your boyfriend, scratch that, former boyfriend, you were feeling emotionally drained.

You weren’t exactly sure who the room you were in belonged to, the resistance fleet was scattered on various ships, you stole away to the closest unoccupied quarters you could find. A small room with a table, chairs and bunk, otherwise completely bare, greeted you.

You were so tired and angry, the breakup had been longtime coming, you thought it would have gone better. The insults he threw at you stung. You wanted to part as friends, both still working in the fight against the Empire, but all he had was resentment and spite towards you.

The door flew open, startling you, and a large figure came in.

“Well, hello,” a gruff voice asked “are you lost little one?”

You looked up meeting the face of none other than the old clone captain, Rex.

You ran the back of your hands over your cheeks, desperately wiping away tears. You jumped up, quickly realizing you were in his room.

“Captain!” You said to him, “ I am so sorry! I didn’t realize this was yours! I apologize, I’ll get out and-“

He quirked his head to the side and placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey hey, slow down, kid,” his voice was calm and reassuring, “what’s this all about, hmmm?”

Embarrassed to be caught crying, you weren’t sure how to respond. You just wanted to leave him in peace. His eyes crinkled up in a smile as he gave you a kind and reassuring look.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down,” He pulled out a chair and sat next to the one you had been occupying. “We have a little bit of time before the next briefing, why don’t you tell me what’s upset you so?”

His expression was very warm. You had heard all about the clone commanders found by the Ghost crew, and knew his backstory from Ahsoka, but you didn’t expect him to be so...so friendly. Surely a war hardened clone wouldn’t care about a nobody such as you.

“It’s alright.” Rex pat the chair next to him again. “Or you can leave, if you’d like, whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

You blinked at him. Deciding, that maybe, it was okay to talk about your problems with another, at least for a bit. It might make you feel better. Rex made you feel, more at ease, than you might have expected.

“Now,” Rex prompted again, “if you don’t mind me asking, why were you crying?”

You let out a big sigh, folding your hands in your lap, not making eye contact with him...yet, finding an interest in picking at a loose string on your pants.

“I just broke up with my boyfriend,” you began “and it did not go well.”

“I see,” Rex said simply. He put his hand on your shoulder again, giving you a reassuring pat. “I’m sorry,”

“I thought he would be more understanding,” you continued, yanking the string away and balling it up in your fist, “it’s so hard and scary sometimes, and we’re even fighting for the same cause! But it doesn’t feel like we’re on the same page!”

You paused before saying, “well I guess ‘were’ on the same page.” You let out a shaky laugh.

Rex laughed along with you. “Already making jokes? Maybe it can’t be all bad?”

You met his gaze and gave him a pained look.

He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry!” He blurted out. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive!”

“It’s alright,” you said, gaze falling back to your lap.

“No it isn’t,” Rex continued. “I’m just...” he sighed in frustration, “well relationships, civvie relationships, anyway, aren’t really my specialty,”

You shot him an understanding look. You knew he was trying to be helpful.

“I know it’s hard and love and trust is difficult, but seeing you smile, I thought maybe that meant you were feeling better. But that was wrong, and I truly apologize for that.”

His large hand, slowly reached for one of yours, making you look up at him.

“I didn’t mean to offend or make you feel worse.” He said.

“I know,” your other hand coming to encompass his. “It’s just all sudden, and it feels so insignificant,” you let go of his hands to gesture all around you, “in the grand scheme of things. I mean, we’re in the middle of a kriffing war!”

You permitted yourself a small laugh, and Rex smiled again.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you continued. “But I thought, we would be on better terms. As friends you know?”

Rex nodded in understanding and you continued.

“It would make things so much easier, with the Rebels being such a small group, to get along, but I don’t think that will happen.”

Rex quirked an eyebrow at you.

“He was so mean about it. He called me names.”

You felt tears begin to gather in your eyes, and you put your head in your hands, trying to hold back from crying more, especially in front of Rex.

Cautiously, Rex let his hand rest on your back, before rubbing small circles of comfort as you began to cry again.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You said jolting up out of the chair. You raced towards the door. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this! I’ll go back to my room,” your face fell as the realization hit.

Rex stood up, moving slowly towards your frozen in place body.

“Kid?” He asked.

“I can’t,” oh stars, how am I going to do this, “we shared a room, I have to find a way to ask for another...”

Resources and ships were few and far between, and you did not want to burden anyone with such a silly request.

“Hey,” Rex said softly, now standing close to you. “It will be alright,” he paused, “you can bunk with me for now.”

What?! No way!

“Captain, with all due respect, no.” You looked up at him. “I can’t do that to you, not after everything you’ve done. You deserve your own space.”

“Come on, I don’t mind” Rex said, now smiling. “I have two bunks in here, you can pick whichever you’d like.” He walked over to the wall, were you now realized there were in fact two beds, one above the other.

You shifted your weight between your feet nervously.

“At least until we can find you your own space,” Rex said. “It will let you find some peace on your own, away from that man, for now.”

“I don’t want to impose,” you began, now feeling guilty for invading the clone captain’s space.

“Not to worry!” He said reassuringly. “I’ve been bunking with Gregor and Wolffe for years, this is just like being back in the Seelos system!” He joked and his eyes lit up in laughter and memories.

You shifted your weight again, mentally weighing your options, you had none really.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, “but I’m serious, I want you to feel comfortable in your own space, if you want the room to yourself, or me gone, I’m gone.”

Rex chuckled. “I seriously doubt that will happen,”

You rolled your eyes not believing him for a second.

“Deal?” Rex asked, extending his hand to you.

“Deal,” you responded clasping your smaller palm to his.

————————

Months later, battles and dangerous missions flew by, in addition to a few close calls, and you still remained in your shared room with Captain Rex.

Things were actually going well with the two of you. You told him more about the breakup and yourself, he told you tales of the Clone Wars and his brothers, never going into too much detail about them. You sensed his sadness and mourning for the soldiers lost in war.

You were making your way back to the shared room one evening when you passed your ex and one of his friends.

Trying to be cordial; you had only seen each other in briefings, barely making eye contact, you nodded in silent acknowledgement at him.

“Whore.”

Your spine went ramrod straight. And you whipped around.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” your ex sneered at you, his friend trying to conceal a laugh behind his palm.

“I don’t know what you could be talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re shacking up with that old man,” he spat at you. “Broke it off so you could get some old man dick?”

“Disgusting.” His friend said to you. “Fucking a clone? An ancient one at that.”

They laughed.

You saw red, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t resort to violence, your fist balled at your side.

“I don’t know why you would ever insinuate something like that, but that’s disrespectful, not only to me, but more to Captain Rex.” You said to them.

“What has he ever done to help the rebellion?” Your ex said “he’s an old war relic, no longer useful, they only keep him around because Ahsoka Tano used to be his friend.”

“Still is his friend.” You heard a voice behind you say.

The two boys faces went pale and you saw Ahsoka herself brush past you staring them down.

“Captain Rex has done more in his lifetime than you will ever hope to accomplish with yours.” Ahsoka said. “You would do well to remember that.”

Unable to respond, she continued.

“You should probably apologize.”

“Sorry Commander Tano.” One said.

“Yes, we’re very sorry.” The other echoed.

“You’d better remember this conversation for a long time.” Ahsoka said.

“Yes, sir!” They said and scrambled to leave.

“You alright?” Ahsoka asked, now turning her attention to you.

“Yeah,” you nodded sheepishly. “Thank you, by the way.”

A small smile was granted to you. “Any friend of Rex is a friend of mine.” Ahsoka said, laying a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Don’t let those moof milkers get to you.”

You nodded back, a little awestruck the Ahsoka Tano had defended you.

“Tell Rex ‘Hi’ for me, okay?” She asked.

“I will,” you nodded, prompting another smile from her.

“See you around,” she gave you a two finger salute and walked away.

———

Back in the room, on your top bunk, you scrolled endlessly through your datapad, not really paying attention, the insult from earlier still stinging.

The door opened, alerting you of Rex’s presence. He shrugged off his armor, and jacket, carefully laying it on the table and sat in a chair to untie his boots.

It was a simple routine and familiarity you both knew, you knew soon Rex would ask you about your day, you would ask about his, the conversation would ebb and flow before winding down announcing ‘lights out’.

“What’s wrong?” Rex’s voice broke your attention.

“What?” You leaned over the edge, meeting his gaze from the chair.

“You seem...” he searched for the right word, “distracted and slightly on edge,”

Better get to the inevitable.

“I ran into him today,” you began.

Rex stood up and came to the side of your bunk. His head level with the mattress.

“You have been in the same room in briefings, did he try anything?” His eyes searched yours with concern.

“He called me a whore.”

Rex felt anger deep in his chest, but kept his eyes locked on you.

“But Commander Tano came to my aid. She says ‘hi’ by the way,” a soft smile making its way to your face.

You slid past Rex and sat your shared table.

Rex turned his attention to you, “Ahsoka is a good friend,” his fist clenched, “but what about that first part?”

You really didn’t want to repeat it. It had really hurt. And you didn’t want to explain that he thought you were fucking your bunk mate.

But it’s Rex.

“He called me a whore.” You repeated, not meeting his gaze.

“That no good, lously little-“ Rex slammed his fists down on the table.

His gaze softened, turning to you. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Cyar’ika,”

You nodded, and Rex noticed a tear rolling down your face.

He knelt in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” Rex began, “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s not you Rex,” you said, laying a hand on his shoulder, “it’s him, words really hurt. And the insulation of-“

Rex cut you off, by placing a palm to your cheek and wiping the lone tear away.

“That boy is nothing more than that, a di’kut.” Rex said softly, “his words should wield no power over you,”

You looked down at him, “I wish that were true, but words still hurt.”

Wordlessly, Rex raised slightly and embraced you. His strong arms holding you close to his chest.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace.

Rex was a good man, he had been so supportive and kind to you from the beginning.

He pulled away, giving you a reassuring smile. As the two of you had come to know each other, he began to admire your strength and resilience, he hated seeing you cry.

“Oh! I have something for you,” Rex said reaching back to his jacket on the table. “This should make the day a little better!”

Riffling his hand through a pocket, he held out an object, wrapped in a piece of cloth, to you “Go on,”

You slowly peeled away the fabric, revealing an Uj Cake. Your face lit up. You stared wide eyed at Rex.

“How did you get this?”

“I have my ways,” Rex said shooting you a wink.

Your cheeks flushed.

“This is so kind of you, thank you, Rex.”

He smiled holding the cake out to you.

“Well go on, try it!”

You broke off a small piece and popped it in your mouth.

You let out a moan, it had been so long since you tasted something so sweet.

Rex shivered at the noise you made, unnoticed by you.

“You have to try it!” You said in delight, pushing Rex’s palm back towards himself.

He set the cake on the table and broke off his own bite.

“This is good!” He exclaimed.

You laughed, watching delight spread across his face.

“I guess we can share,” you laughed scooting your seat closer to his, breaking off another portion for yourself.

“It’s so sweet!” You exclaimed taking another bite.

“Just like you,” Rex said.

Did he?

Rex froze, you had heard it.

You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable and took initiative.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Rex.” You placed a reassuring hand to his forearm that laid on the table. “Thank you.”

Rex relaxed slightly. Eating another piece of cake, nodding and humming in contentment.

You studied the man next to you. He had been nothing but kind to you since you accidentally stumbled into his room. He was broad and strong, years of living off the grid and his accelerated aging making him tough. You found yourself squeezing his forearm again, unaware of the action, now causing the captain’s cheeks to flush.

He turned to you, eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place, a sad smile breaking out across his face.

“I wish I never had to see you upset. You are sweet and kind and such a valuable asset to the Rebellion” He told you.

You smiled at him. “You’re so nice to me, I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay with you. Especially when you say things like this.” You looked down at your hands as you felt a warmth wash over you.

“Every word of it is true, Cyar’ika,” he lifted a large hand to palm your cheek, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

You leaned into his touch, meeting his gaze again. You felt your heart swell at his words, how lucky you felt to know him. His eyes still held that same glow of kindness and...

“May I ask you something?” Rex asked, interrupted your thoughts.

You laughed. “You just did.”

Rex laughed too, “well, another then?”

You nodded.

“May I...kiss you?”

Now you were sure you were blushing. The warmth of your face heating up ran a course through your entire body before settling on your face.

Kiss?

You hadn’t been kissed since...since your ex, but a kiss from Rex. From the man who had shown you nothing but respect and kindness and how to be a strong fighter. Well...

Rex noticed your quizzical expression. He felt he had messed up.

She’s uncomfortable now! Quick, apologize, salvage what relationship you have left! His mind yelled at him.

“I don’t see why not,” you finally responded, breaking Rex free of his panicked mind.

Deciding not to think about it too much anymore, Rex rose from his seat, slightly and placed a kiss to your cheek, his beard tickling your face, before pulling away.

You ran your hand up to where his lips had been.

He was waiting for more of reaction and settled back into his chair.

You looked at him, remaining expressionless, looking back at those soft amber eyes, trying to figure out the look...when it hit you.

“That’s it?” You asked.

Rex was taken back, “what do you mean ‘that’s it?”

“Captain Rex, I recognize the look you’re giving me and that is not the kiss that you wanted.” You told him.

He ran a hand over his head, weighing his options.

Of course he had wanted to kiss you! The two of you spent months on end together! Rex watched as you healed your broken heart by helping out in ways only you could. Offering to go on dangerous missions, wanting to be out there, helping people. You were growing to be a better person. The two of you had bonded over stories before bed. Kriff, bed. Rex might not be the young trooper he once was, but he had thoughts and desires too.

He loved the way you lit up talking to him. How your hand would reach for his, seeking and providing reassurance. You could exist within the same space wordlessly, just enjoying each other’s company. You saw him as an equal, not some old clone, a relic of a bygone era.

And yes, he had thought on more than one occasion about you, fucking on his bunk, riding him in one of the chairs or what you might sound like when you came, but he had never acted on it. But now, seeing you flustered by his praise (of which he had meant every word) something broke in him. He had to act.

He was going to kiss you, properly this time.

He raised back up, but kept his face level with yours. This time his lips met yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back.

“Just as suspected. Sweet as Uj cake.” Rex mumbled against your lips.

You allowed yourself to giggle against his mouth.

He hummed in response, using the opportunity slip his tongue between your lips.

Still kissing you and exploring your mouth, Rex hooked a foot around his chair and brought it closer so that he could sit and be almost level with you. He was taller than you, so he had to angle down a bit, but now that he was seated, he ran an arm from your shoulder to your hand, while the other gripped the back of your head.

You moaned into his mouth feeling the pressure of his hand at the base of your skull. One of your hands reached out and fisted his black shirt.

Rex moved his hands from high up on your body to your hips. He dragged his palms along your thighs before going under your knees.

He looked at you and wordlessly, you understood. He helped you slide off your chair into his lap. He was stronger than you previously thought. Your legs were now straddling his large thighs.

His head came forward, placing another soft kiss to your lips.

“Is this okay?” He asked you searching your face for a possible change in expression.

You smiled at him. “This is wonderful, Rex.”

He let out a sigh of relief. He worried he had been too forward.

You watched as a more relaxed look fell over him. You knew he would never push you. Your sweet Rex, always looking out, taking care of you.

How far would that care extend?

A smirk fell upon your face.

Of course you had thought about him, you two spent so much time together you felt it was inevitable. But the extend of care and support he gave you, melted your heart.

“Rex?” You asked, scooting your hips further up his lap.

He tried hard not to let out a groan, you were so close, his cock now growing harder, almost pressed against you. There was no way you weren’t going to notice.

He looked at you, curious of your next move, his hands settling on your waist.

“Would you like to do more than kiss?” You asked in sultry tone.

He squeezed your hips, moving you forward to drag you against the bulge in his trousers.

“Yes,” he hissed out, eyes closing as you ground against him.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“I’d certainly like to fuck you,” he began placing kisses on down your neck, “if you’d let me,”

You bucked your hips at his words. Cupping his face in your hands, you captured his mouth in a searing kiss.

“I’d like that very much,”

The familiarity of the warm amber in his eyes was replaced by blown out pupils.

“Let me show you,” he began, nipping your collar bone and palming your ass, “how a real man fucks.”

You shuddered in anticipation, a familiar warmth pooling between your legs.

“Wrap your legs around me, little one,” Rex said breathily.

You raised your legs and interlocked your ankles around his waist.

Trailing his hands down your arms, he grabbed and brought them to his neck. 

Clinging tightly to him, Rex rose from the chair, one hand cupping your ass, the other wrapped around your shoulders. Once again, his strength surprised you and he kissed you again.

His legs hit the back of his bunk and he slowly sat down, you remained attached to him, his tongue now darting in your mouth capturing each moan and whimper you let out. 

You unhooked your legs, letting them rest outside of Rex’s and began grinding your hips down to his. Your body jolting as you felt his length twitch against you through his pants.

Rex groaned and grasped your hips to still you. You paused, meeting his smoldering gaze.

“Oh Cyar’ika,” He began, his hands finding the bottom of your shirt, “we’ll get to that, let me take care of you first,”

You nodded, placing a brief kiss to his temple.

“May I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt.

“Please,” 

He complied, discarding the garment  to the floor.

“Krifffff...” Rex groaned out cupping your breasts. His rough hands then dragging the straps down your shoulders. He licked a stripe from your clavicle to your breast bone, reaching around to rid you of your bra.

With your top half entirely bare to him, his mouth captured one nipple, while his other hand groped the other.

You ran you fingers along his scalp as he switched his attention to the other.

You squirmed against his hips again, craving some sort of relief.

“Rex, please.” 

You ran your hand along the waistband of his pants, but he caught your wrist.

Bringing his face level with yours he shook his head ‘no’.

You whined, grinding your hips again.

He smiled and pulled his shirt over his head.

Your jaw dropped, you knew clone’s had an accelerated aging process, but Rex was still incredibly toned. You ran a palm across the expanse of his chest, feeling the muscle rippling underneath.

His watched you with gentle eyes, still caressing your chest. While you marveled at him, his hand now traveled down to the waistband of your own pants.

“I’d like to try something with you.” He half explained half asked, fumbling with the fabric keeping you covered.

You gazed at him curiously. 

“I’d like you to sit on my face.”

The heat immediately rose to your cheeks. 

No one had ever wanted you to do that before.

“I wont’t hurt you will I?” You asked, becoming self conscious. 

“Not at all,” Rex assured. 

You nodded to him, and moved off his lap.

Shifting higher up the bunk and moving to lay horizontally, Rex laid down, kicking his boots off in the process.

You followed his action, slowly scooting closer to him.

“Take you pants and underwear off, please.” Rex said.

After doing as he asked, Rex moved so you could sit next to his shoulder.

“Still okay?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said, the shakiness of your voice not lost on him.

“Up.” Rex commanded gently and you moved to straddle his head, hovering above his face on your knees.

Rex gently massaged the back of your thighs while he placed kisses along the insides.

“Relax,” he said softly, “I’ve got you.”

You looked down, admiring the way his biceps bulged as he held you. You slowly sank lower.

Rex ran a his tongue flat against you, causing you to shudder, his hands still gently gripping you.

Another lick, then you felt light pressure against your walls as he made broader swipes in you.

You let out a low moan.

Firmly gripping the back of your thighs, Rex yanked you down closer to his face, his beard tickling you lightly, while his tongue explored more and more of you. One hand anchored you in place, while the other reached around to rub your clit as his tongue began making swirling motions.

You rocked your hips ever so slightly against his face, causing Rex to let out a low moan of his own.

“You taste better than a fucking Uj cake, mesh’la,” Rex said “more sweet than anything.”

Your eyes screwed shut savoring every word and feeling every movement below you, it wasn’t long before you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, while Rex sucked on your clit.

You cried out as you orgasmed. Rex, lapping up every bit, as you rode out your high. 

Finally stilling, you moved away from his mouth, noticing the shine coating his lips. 

Gently, he helped you off, you laid next to him, the warmth of his body radiating against you.

His eyes sparked with happiness and he gazed at you with endearment. 

“That was wonderful, little one,” he kissed you softly “better than I could have ever hoped for,”

“You hoped for that?” You asked wide-eyed.

Rex smirked. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch.

Before he answered, you felt a twitch against your leg.

You both looked at the bulge straining between you.

Unable to stop you fast enough, you cupped as much of him as you could in your palm.

Rex gritted his teeth and rubbed against you.

“Won’t you let me return the favor?” You asked.

He smiled, still moving against your hand, “as much as I would love that, I’d like being inside you much more.”

You we’re taken back slightly by his decline of your offer.

“Only if you are still okay with that,” Rex searched your face for permission.

He was so much better than any partner you may have had in the past, asking for permission, checking in. You looked at him in admiration.

And you then you felt it. The feeling of knowing how deeply you cared for Rex, and he did for you, this affirmed it. Things would be different between the two of you from this point on, for the better.

”Rex,” you began, he turned his full attention to you.

”I need you to fuck me now.”

He laughed. 

Rex reached down tugging off his bottoms and undergarments. His cock, free from the confines, bobbed to attention. 

Kriff he was big...

Before he could stop you, you licked him from base to tip.

A hand clasped your shoulder, and you turned your attention back to his face.

“Next time,” Rex promised you, grinning. 

You smiled back, your fingers lightly running over his shaft.

“How would you like it?” Rex asked you.

“Lie back,” You told him.

 Moving back to a similar position from earlier, he laid back on the bed, watching you.

You straddled him, his length pressing against your cunt, and you rubbed against him.

Once more, Rex reached for your wrist, grabbing it gently. 

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes.” 

He sat up to pressing a searing kiss to your lips. One hand guiding his cock to your entrance, teasingly pressing the tip against your wet folds.

You rocked your hips, sitting up more.

“Ready?” He asked you in-between kisses.

“Please, Rex,” you whined.

Slowly, he entered you, a guttural groan rang out from deep within his chest.

“Kriff, you’re tight,” he breathed out, as you sank slowly onto him.

He was bigger than you expected, and you enjoyed taking every in every inch, til he was fully sheathed inside.

Still halfway sitting up, Rex moved his hips experimentally.

“Fucking hells, Rex!” You cried out feeling his shaft deep in you, “I can feel every little move you make!” 

He felt you clenching around his length, moving his hips again, withdrawing himself, before slamming back into you.

You moaned again. 

You mirrored his movements with your hips, and the two of you falling into a rhythm. 

Keeping one hand to brace himself, the other traveled from your chest down to your clit, as Rex rocked himself into you. He placed kisses along your neck and collar bone.

“Oh Cyar’ika, oh Kriff, you feel so good,” Rex moaned against your mouth.

“Rex,” you began, feeling his cock and fingers work you over and over, “I’m so close, I-” your head began to loll back, anticipating the upcoming rush of pleasure. 

“Oh, mesh’la,” Rex groaned out,” ‘m close too, where should I?”

“Inside me,” You rocked you hips, “It’s okay, I have the-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, because Rex’s pace increased and you watched his mouth fall slack as he reached his own high. Watching him come undone sent you over the edge quickly.

“Rex!” You cried out, your face falling into the crook of his neck, his arms circling around you, holding tight you as you came back down.

He was running his hands down though your hair and down your spine, mumbling bits of Mando’a phrases and praises to you, slowing the rocking of his hips. 

Finally, stilling your movements, you raised your head to kiss him.

His eyes shone in lust and admiration.

“That truly was something Cyar’ika.” 

“I could say the same for you,” You giggled.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, slick coating both your thighs he laughed softly.

“A lovely and welcome mess,” He glanced at you, and cupped your cheek, “is that...was that alright?”

You smiled, “Of course it was!” You placed a kiss to his palm and fell back into his caress.

A full grin broke out on his face. He pulled you close.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

You giggled, “I should be the one thanking you Rex,”

“Oh?”

“You let me in a long time ago, and you've taken care of me since,”

He pulled back, titling your chin to look up at him.

“And I plan to continue doing just that,” and he kissed you again.