#my veins are slightly trembling with the urge to draw him

[frugalkubal]

I just got the latest hero they added. Fantastic character design . (⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯⁠)

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

10 Swallowing

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Reader gives Zhongli an emergency blowjob / Filthy smut because Zhongli makes me hungry

Delicious was a word you never thought you'd use to describe your lover.

Sure, Zhongli was a walking delicacy in all his exquisiteness, but the moment you sink between his thighs, he's absolutely decadent. The trembling of his body gives away just how much he looks forward to being your treat.

"You've been holding it in all night and you didn't think to tell me?" You gave him a playful scowl while unclasping his belt.

"Dearest, you seemed to be enjoying yourself and I did not want to interrupt your celebration." He reached down to stroke your hair, adoration overflowing in his eyes.

Tonight was a special night for you. The Akademiya had thrown a gala in celebration of a significant research breakthrough. You had been working hard on this project for nearly five years and deserved all the limelight tonight. He had been admiring you in that dazzling dress for hours while you fluttered among the guests, wondering how a simple dress could accentuate your beauty in such a way. It wasn't until he held you flush against him, swaying in the music, that his admiration silently crossed into arousal.

Being the perceptive partner that you were, you naturally gave Zhongli a knowing smirk and and dragged him off to find some privacy. A room with a lock on the door and a comfortable chair would do. You promptly motioned for him to take a seat and got down on your knees, freeing him from his predicament without a moment's delay. If you didn't initiate, poor man was going to no doubt endure it for the rest of the evening and you couldn't have that. Also, who ever said you couldn't sneak in a quick snack in between all the socializing?

Your lover's breath hitches as your tongue glides over his sensitive skin. He lets out a shuttered moan as you deliberately trace a wet path along his bulging vein. You knew this man like the back of your own hands, perhaps even more thoroughly than some of the subjects you had researched. Your teasing was calculated and methodical, as if you were tempering fine chocolate.

Zhongli's fingers are buried in your tousled hair as you close your plush lips around his tip. You gave it a gentle suck, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"Look at you." You remarked as you wrapped your fingers gingerly around his shaft, smiling as it twitched and swelled in your hands. "I brought you here, didn't I? So you're my responsibility. I can't just let you walk around like this."

Zhongli's face was tinged with a soft flush and his breathing had gotten shallow. A thin sheen of perspiration lined his temple and neck as you pleasured him with both your hands and your lips. Your mouth parted wider, trying to accommodate more of his cock. He shuttered as he felt your teeth accidentally scrape against his length.

"You must get back soon, dear… They will be wondering where you have disappeared to." Zhongli reminds you as you help yourself to him.

You responded by taking in even more of him, effectively shoving those considerate but unnecessary thoughts right out of his mind. He let out a choked moan, eyelids falling shut as he threw his head back. His cock was now lodged deep inside your throat. You held your breath, shaking as you fought the urge to gag, spitting him out only to swallow him right back once you've pulled him out enough to draw in a breath. Even after doing this several times, it's still a challenge, but you've always appreciated a good challenge, especially when it brings your lover so much pleasure.

The way Zhongli's deep and velvety voice takes on a slightly higher pitch as he moans sends a satisfying ripple through your body. He muffles himself with the back of his gloved fist in fear that someone would hear and come investigating the commotion.

Time fled his mind. He's already lost track of how long he's been sitting here with you between his knees. Increasing urgency and desperation laces his groans. The things you do to him reduce him into a trembling heap of desire, filling your ears with an assortment of delectable sounds.

You could never regret going missing for a delicious treat like this. If anything, Zhongli was the cream on your cake tonight. He makes you feel adored like nobody else could. If it weren’t for his constant encouragement, you would have fallen into the habit of second-guessing yourself during the grueling research.

"Oh my darling… Yes… Just like that…" He assures you while combing a hand through your hair.

Your hands unfurled, fondling him at the base as you engorge yourself on his throbbing cock. It was dizzying. The friction and lack of air had you drooling all along his hardened length. Your narrow throat convulsed around him as you took him in deep, plunging him into a state of ecstasy. You could taste him in your mouth, holding on by a mere shred. His stomach tensed as he strained to keep himself from bucking up against your face. All it took was a deliberately harsh suck over his sensitive tip to have him exploding all over the inside of your mouth.

Zhongli let put a choked moan as you milked him, demanding him to give you every last drop. Thick cum spurted out from the corner of your lips, running down your jaw in streaks. You finally let go of his glazed cock, swallowing the salty treat he had just deposited into your mouth. After coming down from the euphoria, Zhongli leaned down and ran his thumb along your lower jaw which was still decorated in his cream. You parted your lips and cleaned off his fingers with your tongue.

"Thank you, dear. I must repay the deed when we return to the inn tonight." Your ever-appreciative lover whispered as you licked him clean.

"I can't wait to get dined on then." You rose up to your feet, bending down to brush your lips against his ear.

"I will be sure to delight you just as you've delighted me." He replied. "Now we should get back, shouldn't we? You've gone missing for long enough."

Zhongli still looks way too ravishable while pulling off a decieving facade with that adorable blush on his face. You contemplated if you could perhaps go missing for a bit longer, but at last your rationality won you over.

"Try not to stare unless you're planning for us to leave early." You smirked at him as you turned for the door.

"I cannot promise that, but I will manage the wait. This is your moment, dearest. It would pain me to cut it short."

This man was too sweet sometimes. God knows how many cavities you have just from his sweet talking alone. Who would've known a retired Archon could also make a well-seasoned lover? You certainly didn't regret inviting him on that first dinner date. He just never saw himself eventually becoming your main course.

[hoernypie]

⛓ Good girl ⛓

tags: pet names, domination, leash, bj, ana!

wc: 2765

"Be a good girl and stop moving too much," Toji huffed with annoyance, trying to attach the chain to the collar that tightly decorated your neck.

You felt the cold, metal of the chain touch your hot skin as Toji yanked it, trying to keep you in place. As the clasp of the chain clicked shut, you glanced around the dim bedroom, searching for any toys he brought with him. As you looked around the room, your gaze landed on a small, black leather whip, its color nearly blending with the sheets.

"Looks like you found my little surprise earlier than I intended," Toji said, his eyes glinting with excitement as he noticed your gaze on the whip. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves." He pulled on the chain, drawing you closer to the bed, his grip firm yet gentle. "First, let's set the mood, shall we?" He moved to play the music, the sultry melody that filled the bedroom, setting a rhythm that seemed to pulse with the racing of your heart. As the music played, your anticipation grew, and the coolness of the metal against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. Toji looked back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "On your knees for me," he commanded. 

“Yes, master,” you say while kneeling on the wooden floor, looking up to see the smirk on his face.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the collar and the pull of the chain as you obeyed Toji's command. Lowering your gaze to the floor, you leaned forward, your trembling hands reaching out to touch the tips of his polished shoes. His smirk grew wider as you very well knew what to do. The sound of your soft, reverent kisses echoed through the room, “Such a good girl”. Toji's eyes never left your figure, the intensity of his gaze burning into your skin as you continued to kiss his feet.

With each kiss, Toji's smirk evolved into a look of desire, his eyes darkening as they raked over your submissive form. With a deliberate slowness that seemed to stretch the moments into eternity, he reached for his zipper and began to lower it. The anticipation became unbearable as the fabric parted, revealing his V-shaped abdomen muscles. You felt a thrill of excitement, knowing that soon you’ll taste his dick. The chain sound filled your ears when he pulled you closer, pressing his hot hardness against your cheek. Your eyes remained on the floor, waiting for his common, which as always you’d obey without any question.

With a gruff voice, Toji said, "Sweetpea, be a good girl like always." You felt a jolt of excitement, eagerly nodding as your body craved to please him like always. Lifting your eyes to meet his, your heart raced faster when you saw how sexy he looked. You gently grasped his erect shaft, feeling the throbbing veins beneath your fingertips. You leaned in closer, parting your lips, and took the tip into your mouth. The taste of his pre hit your tongue as you began to suck, applying gentle pressure, making you crave more of that taste. His hips bucked slightly in response, as he groaned feeling your sweet lips wrap around him. He guided your head by grabbing your hair, setting a rhythm that grew steadier and more intense. Your cheeks hollowed as you took more of his length into your mouth, your hands wrapping around his base to stroke him in time with your sucks. His grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, urging you to take him deeper. You could feel his cock twitch every time your tongue touched his glans. 

As you continue to suck on his swollen tip, Toji's precum began to leak out, coating your tongue with a salty-sweet flavor that made your mouth water uncontrollably. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive area, eagerly savoring the taste, which only grew more intoxicating with each passing second. Your body responded instinctively, your pussy growing wetter by the moment as the warmth of his pearly white beads filled your mouth. You moaned softly around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him as he grew even harder in your mouth. His hips rocked against you, pushing deeper, and you felt a tingle between your legs as you took him further into your throat, the tip brushing the back of your mouth. The wetness between your thighs grew more obscene, soaking through the fabric of your panties, making them almost translucent, as you craved more of his essence. His precum was like water to you, the thing that kept you alive. You sucked harder, swirling your tongue, eagerly to show him just how much you enjoyed pleasing him. His groans grew louder, his breathing more ragged, and you knew that you were driving him closer and closer to the edge.

Encouraged by his reaction, you took Toji's entire length into your mouth, your eyes watering from the size but determination to give him the pleasure that he deserved was more important. You felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat as his hips buckled with force. His fingers tightly gripped your hair, and you could feel his big cum filled balls tighten against your chin. You knew he was close, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and his grip on your hair tightening to the point of slight pain. Yet, you didn't stop, fueled by his actions to bring him to cum into your mouth, to show him just how much of a good girl you could be.

Finally unable to hold back any longer, Toji's muscles tensed as he released his load into your mouth. You could feel the warm, thick ropes of cum filling your mouth. The taste of his release was overwhelming, the amount of it making you want to gag, tears wetting your cheeks as you tried not to spit anything, eager to be the obedient little slut he desired. "Open," he rasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. You pulled back slightly, a line of cum and your saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his still-throbbing cock, and obeyed, opening your mouth wide to show him his seed coating your tongue. "Swallow," he ordered, his eyes filled with amusement seeing the look on your face. You did so with a dramatic gulp, closing your mouth and licking your lips clean before looking up at him with a hazy gaze. “Show,” he smirked as you again opened your mouth for him. "Good girl," he praised, his chest heaving with exertion. "Now, get up here, and let's see what else I can do today to that pretty little body of yours." He pulled the chain, making you crawl onto the bed, your legs trembling slightly from the excitement and exertion. 

As you climbed onto the bed, your legs trembling with excitement, Toji's gaze drifted down to your soaked panties. The sight of your wetness made him hum with a please, the fabric clinging to your pussy, leaving nothing to the imagination. "It seems my little girlie is already eager," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with lust as he took in the obscene wetness that had soaked through the fabric, wetting your inner thighs. The anticipation in the room grew palpable as your hand reached between your legs, his hand gripping you by a wrist and pulling your hand away. “So impatient,” he clicked his tongue, reaching for a pair of shiny handcuffs, the metal glinting in the dim light. "I think it's time to make sure you don't get too handsy," he said with a low chuckle, his tone sending a thrill through your body. You pouted, as he snapped cuffs around your wrists and secured it to the metal headboard. "Spread those legs for me," he ordered, his voice thick with desire. You obeyed, feeling the chain pull taut as you parted your legs, exposing your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze. Toji leaned in, his hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he took in the scent of your arousal. "So wet," he whispered, his voice a mix of amazement and satisfaction. "I never can get enough of that sight." He trailed a finger down the length of your slit, teasing you with feather-light strokes that made you whimper with need. The anticipation was maddening as you waited for his next move, the weight of the cuffs on your wrist a constant reminder of your submission to him.

With a smirk, Toji took the leather whip into his hand, the sound of it cracking through the air sending a shiver down your spine. He noticed your thighs squeezing together, a silent plea for relief from the tormenting need that he had been building up in you. "Oi, oi, oi," he scolded playfully, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Naughty girl, you know better than that." He tapped the whip gently against your thigh, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body. "I'll have to punish you for that." With a swift motion, he ripped the soaked fabric of your panties away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. He traced the outline of your swollen clit with the whip before delivering a sharp smack. You gasped, the sting of the leather mixing with the intense need that was building within you. "Spread your legs wider," he demanded, his voice low and firm. As you complied, he delivered a series of swift strikes along the insides of your thighs, each hit increasing in intensity, painting a fiery path up to your pussy. You tried to keep still, biting your lip to hold back your whines, but the pain was quickly turning into pleasure. He watched your reactions closely, the sight of your arousal growing with each smack. "Look how wet you are," he said, his voice filled with elation. "But remember, your pleasure depends on how much of a good girl you were." He paused for a moment, allowing the sting to settle before delivering another series of strokes, this time closer and closer to your clit. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as you felt your body tense, your orgasm just out of reach. "Now, tell me," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck, "who does this body belong to?"

“Y-You Toji, it’s only yours,” you moaned feeling how he spread your butt-cheeks, spitting on your hole.

Toji's touch grew more insistent as he pushed a thick finger into your tight hole, your body quivering with the unfamiliar intrusion. "You're so tight here," he murmured, his voice filled with approval. "But I'll make sure you're ready." He began to work you open, his digit sliding in and out with ease, the feeling both strange and incredibly pleasurable. The sensation was new and overwhelming, yet you found yourself pushing back, wanting more. He added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you further, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit to keep your pleasure at a peak. The room was filled with the wet sounds and your moans. You could feel yourself loosening up, your body responding to his fingers penetrating you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice filled with approval as he watched you take his fingers. "Just a bit more, and then we'll see how well you handle my cock."

Toji withdrew his fingers, your hole quivering with need and desire, leaving you feeling empty. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered into your ear, "Are you ready?" You nodded, unable to form coherent words through your gasps. He positioned his cock at the entrance of your ass, the tip of his swollen head coated in the wetness from your pussy. With a gentle push, he began to enter you, the pressure intense as he stretched you wider than you had ever been before. You bit your lip to stifle a scream, feeling your body tense and resist his intrusion. "Relax, baby," he coaxed, his voice soothing despite the firmness of his grip. He pushed in further, the burn turning into a delicious ache as your body adjusted to his size. Each inch he claimed was a new level of pleasure-pain, and your eyes watered with the overwhelming sensation. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He paused for a moment, giving you time to get used to the feeling, his cock pulsing inside you. "You're taking it so well," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he began to move. The slow, shallow thrusts grew deeper and more forceful, the sound of skin slapping skin and the slick sound of your juices filling the air. Your body began to move with his rhythm, your hips pushing back to meet each thrust. The whip laid forgotten beside you, the sting from earlier replaced by the fullness of his cock in your ass, as he claimed your body in a way no one else ever had. The pleasure grew, a knot tightening in your belly. "Look how good you’re taking me, sweetpea," he grunted with pleasure in his voice. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he continued to pound into you, pulling the chain attached to your collar, making you feel the leather pressing tightly against your neck.

Toji's hips began to move faster, his cock bullying your tight ass with each stroke. You could feel his balls slapping against your pussy, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your moans grew louder as your face was pressed against the mattress, wetting it with your drool. "You're mine," he grunted, his grip on the chain tightening as he pushed deeper into your tight hole. "Say it," he demanded, his voice low and intense. "Say it," he repeated, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust that made you see the stars. "I-I'm yours, master Toji," you managed to gasp out. The orgasm was building within you, the friction between your legs sending waves of pleasure shooting through your body, mixing with the fullness of his cock in your ass. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, the pressure was too much, the pleasure too intense. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. Your pussy contracting around the emptiness craving him in her, his cock still pumping into your ass. You moaned loudly his name, your back arching from the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. With one final, hard powerful thrust, he came inside you, his warm seed filling your tight hole as he bent over and growled with satisfaction straight into your ear. Your body went limp, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard as you took in the feeling of being completely used, filled, and satisfied. "Good girl," he murmured leaving a chaste kiss on your temple, his voice filled with pride as he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling both empty without his dick and incredibly full from his thick cum. "So, so good," he said, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, the sight of your used body sprawled out on the bed making him proud that he was the only one who could ever see you in that state.

As Toji pulled away he leaned down to take a good look at your quivering ass, his cum leaking from your used hole. You had taken him in ways that you had never allowed anyone before, you felt a warm trickle of his seed slipping down onto your pussy as you lay there, panting and covered in sweat, your legs still trembling. He looked down at you, the smug expression on his face speaking volumes about his satisfaction with you. "Now, let's clean you up, shall we?" He grabbed the tissues and gently wiped you, getting rid of his cum that spilled outside. "You're such a dirty, little slut," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But that's what I love about you." As he released the handcuffs, you looked at the red rings around your wrists. The thrill of knowing that you belonged to him in every way possible made you smile, your eyes gleaming when you looked at him. "I love you, master~" you said sweetly, ready to serve and submit to his every whim.

[stariikis]

colour your smile

synopsis ; when riki picks up a paintbrush, two problems surface. for him, it's fear of being unable to portray you perfectly. for you, you have no idea how to counter this fear of his. this fear that is a constant state of unrest in his mind.

pairing ; artist!nishimura riki x muse!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1097 warnings ; kissing and implied mental disorders

It’s pretty difficult for Riki to encapsulate all your beauty into a painting. 

He’s tried, time and time again. Sat you down in his allocated ‘art studio’ room, a tiny part of the house where the grey walls are splotched rainbow. Watercolour palettes lie uncovered all over the room, one sitting just beside your boyfriend on the wooden bench he’s parked himself on. 

In front of him is a blank canvas – tainted only by the strokes of graphite that sketch the outlines of your features. Wispy hair that partially covers your eyes, your button nose quickly drawn into a nub, and your smile accurately depicted, eager and wide. Riki captures the very essence of who you are, with little effort at all. 

It doesn’t look difficult to you, because he makes it look effortless. Like with one snap of his fingers, he can churn out another portrait of you. But it really seems like he does. To Riki, however, it’s not so easy. He tilts and turns his head, muttering dissatisfied remarks to himself. More often than not, he spends more than an hour sketching you and touching up ‘mistakes’. ‘Mistakes’ that you never even saw. ‘Mistakes’ that look like nothing in your eyes, but make all the difference to your perfectionist of a boyfriend. 

“You know what?” You murmur, slightly tired of having to endure another few hours of him scrutinising your portrait. “Why don’t you just try to paint freely? Without thinking about the quality. Keep your focus on me, paint as if you have nothing to hold you back.” 

Riki finally draws his eyes away from the surface of his canvas. He meets your gaze, looking remorseful as he does so. “I wish I could. But then I’d see all the errors and feel guilty. Wouldn’t you?” 

You slide closer to him from the opposite side of the wooden bench. You gently tug the paintbrush from his fingers, placing it beside the watercolour set that looks horrifyingly dry and crackled. “Are you scared?” 

Deep emotions. You take his hands in your own.

You feel them surging deep inside his veins, the whimsical vibrancy of colour flowing along the current. His imagination is running wild but he’s restricting it himself. Out of fear he’s going to mess up. Afraid it’s going to turn out worse than expected. When he looks away, running a hand through his hair and nodding, you’re hardly surprised. 

“Relax.” 

You whisper into the silence. 

“It’s going to be fine.” 

His fingers start to tremble. 

“Your beauty is too complex to be depicted in a simple painting,” he finally speaks, inhaling deeply from his own confession. “Everything looks grey — it looks so plain and so boring, and your smile there – so not you. I have to make this you, I have to do you and your beautiful smile justice.” 

“One hue off the right colour of your hair already scares me to my depths. Everything is so colourless and bare and empty I can’t even tell these strokes apart.” He runs his fingers along the bumps on the wall, forest green fading into baby blue and a harsh strike of vermillion. “I don’t remember how these came about but I remember they’re strokes of frustration.”

“Frustration?” You urge him, patiently. He’s still distracted, rambling and refusing to meet your eyes. But he’s an artist, and you’ve already resigned to putting up with episodes like these for a while now. At the same time, you understand. In your own way, you are an artist too. The only difference between you and Riki is,

you’re bold and daring. You see all the shades the rainbow has to offer. You complete your pieces without a second thought. Of course, they’re never top quality, but they’re satisfactory to yourself. 

Riki is hesitant. He sees in black and white, occasionally shades of grey bleeding into borderline brown. He feels it’s his duty to reflect and duplicate everything about his object perfectly. Like looking into a mirror, it should properly align with reality. It should elicit appropriate emotion. It should reflect all his object’s best qualities. He should be able to make them shine. 

And when he doesn’t, he lashes out. 

“What if?” He scrunches the apron hanging over his thighs. Lost in thought, you wonder whether he’s coming back down to earth or if his head is still in the clouds. Worrying and worrying and worrying. “What if I can’t do it again?” 

“You need to free yourself…” 

Ironically, you know what he needs the most to free himself, is a long, warm embrace that calms his mind. Bring him back down. Teach him to breathe again. You lean back to snatch the paintbrush and palette, holding it in front of him. His gaze clears and begins to transfix onto the materials in your hand. “This is what you came to do. Is it not?” 

He takes it with a shaky hand and blank stare. 

“I think it looks pretty,” you kiss his cheek quickly and slide back into position. “That’s your intention. I know. I look pretty there.” 

Your heart aches for him. Will he ever shake off his overbearing perfectionism and learn to enjoy the talents and skills he’s been blessed with? 

With adoring eyes, he turns back to the canvas and thankfully begins working on it. You hope the profound sparkle in his eye has signalled a change. Everything falls into routine, and you’re stuck breathing in the same scent of must and dried paint for the next few hours. 

Luckily for you, Riki seems to have let the weight evaporate from his shoulders. He can finally take smiley glances your way to compare his portrait and you. He can lean back with a pleased and impressed glimmer in his orbs. Every once in a while, he gives you and kiss and thanks you for staying so still and remaining so patient. 

You know his words carry more intent than he wants to let show. 

“You like it?”

Three hours later, he finally spins the portrait around and lets you have the first look as the muse. Though many portraits of your face have lined his walls since you started dating, you’re pleasantly surprised to feel something different. Though the paintings may all look similar. Same face. Same eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, hair, moles in the same spots. There’s a hint of confidence emanating from the mish-mash of colours. 

And Riki looks satisfied. 

“I can finally see the colours,” he rasps in excitement, cutely clapping his hands together. “I could finally colour your smile.”

i just got diagnosed with chronic migraines (i'm having one rn but it's because i'm not sleeping) so this is pretty self-indulgent. i am riki riki is me. ALSO. riki's aotm i'm shitting tears

more of my works >

[recklessandbloody-mat]

The Forgotten One: Part One || Self

The townspeople were kind but went silent whenever he mentioned who he was looking for. He was sure he knew where he needed to go anyway. The direction they all glanced, even when they tried not to.

Mathew had never been to the desert before. He hadn't ever left the southern United States before. He should have. The dirt beneath his feet turned into grass as his vision became slightly blurry. It was like his eyes were camera lenses just moments before. His eyes hadn't been this bad since he was a human.

Since he was a human? Why would he have a thought like that? He was a human, always had been. He must have been daydreaming about those ethereal girls that lived outside of town.

He walked under the water oaks on each side of the street, heading home, or so he thought.

Footsteps came crashing up behind him and a voice called, "Hey, Taylor! Mr. Taylor!"

He groaned and spun around,"That's my father."

"How did you know?" A breathless man came up to him. It was a worker from the sugar mill.

"how did I know what?" Mathew snapped.

"Your father. We need you at the mill. Your father is fighting anyone who gets close." The worker explained. Adrenaline shot painfully through his limbs and he started to run.

How was he supposed to know? He ran right onto death's door. His father wasn't just fighting someone, he was trying to duel someone and doing so poorly that the guy wouldn't even draw his gun.

Mathew got between them, tried to separate them, and his father's gun went off.

There was a scream and then Mathews legs gave out. He was caught by an angel. She had gorgeous blonde hair and big brown eyes.

"Caroline?"

She pushed him as she looked out the window of the large house. He didn't know how long it had been since her blood has healed his bullet wound, and he didn't understand why there was dirt, really coarse and dry sand, in the windowsill. It made him think of the desert.

"Mathew... My blood wasn't enough. You're still bleeding out. You're... You're dying." She explained, turning away from the window and coming back to where he sat.

"What does that mean?" He asked quietly.

" I have to turn you." She explained nervously.

" You said you couldn't." He became so heavy, the pain fading.

"I said that because I have to bite you and I don't know if I'm strong enough not to drain you dry and kill you if I do bite you." She explained.

This was odd. He had this conversation before. He had talked with her about this, he had agreed. This has already happened. Every bit of this has already happened. Hundred years had passed since then.

Pain surged through him, hitting in waves and burning his veins.

"You have to be quiet! The townspeople are coming." Caroline urged

"I'm... I'm sorry, it hurts!" He screamed. They had run here to get away after she started the change,"I can't do this again! I can't do this again make it stop!"

"what do you mean again!?" Caroline screeched. Mathew grabbed her by the throat, his fangs extending. His body felt stronger and older. He felt the power of the venom in his body, and he could smell better and see better, and both of these senses revealed a shorter, darker skinned woman in his grasp with green eyes.

He hissed harshly,"Enough with your spells!"

She started to cackle, "I should have known you would be harder to keep under. I thought you were so far removed from Demetri's venom that you would be weak as any vampire... Or maybe its-ACK!"

He squeezed tighter, cutting her air off as she spoke," Release me."

The grass turned to sand and she started to fade from his grasp. She hadn't ever been there. She was making him hallucinate.

The slap caught Mathew off guard. He stopped his forward movement as he slipped into the mindset he had been in during the memory. Alexander before him after he had called Alexander out for endangering Caroline. He didn't clench his fists as his hands shook. His entire body trembled with the effort it took him not to lash out. He was reckless, but he was trying not to be as he didn't wish to lose his sire again.

Tears stung but he hid his eyes behind his hair. He was supposed to protect Caroline and she was supposed to lead him and Alexander had gotten her hurt again.

Fury raised in his chest as sand slid between Matthew's fingers. He started walking forward again.

"You won't stop me!" He shouted, walking right through Alexander until the asylum in the background started to fade and a house replaced it.

"You're strong. Not even a third of Alexander's strength but still strong." She stated, stepping up next to him to walk with him,"Nothing I've done has kept you in place more than fifteen minutes."

"Is that what you're doing? Trying to stop me?" Mathew asked.

Caroline stepped up to him and slide her hands up to his pecks, pressing close. He could smell the blood on her breath from the fresh kill they had just finished. His lips slightly parted as she leaned in.

He shoved her as hard as he could and kicked the door to the house in. He was so confused, all these visions seemed so real,but now he was in the small desert home.

"Where are you?" He shouted.

A force slammed into him and he hit the car wall. Before he could do anything else he was rolled around the wall harshly then thrown through the air, painfully crashing through a thick wooden table. When he was thrown again it was against something glass that shattered, many pieces stabbing into him, large and small. He landed on the floor with a cry as some glass was shoved deeper into his side.

"You come in someone's home and start shouting. That's extremely rude, child." The witch stepped up to him, her green eyes shining.

She lifted and twisted her hand, and his nerves lit up with excruciating pain. Everything was white, hot, blinding pain. He didn't know how long she did this, but she stopped when he, somehow, ran behind her and grabbed her from behind. In his pain he reacted on instinct and had gotten behind her, grabbing her head and jaw to twist and break her neck.

The pain let up but his hands here immobile. He couldn't release her but he also couldn't break her neck. He hissed loudly.

"The forgotten and hated child. The unwanted in every family you've ever had. Why do you fight so hard? Why continue? A drunken father who blamed you for your mother's death, and a sire who believes you got his three daughters killed. He does believe you got them killed, you know." She said in response to him shaking his head," he does! Alexander thinks that Caroline turning you got his other daughters killed! Your father hates you and so does this one!"

She cackled. Mathew couldn't twist her head off, so instead, he threw her as hard as he could.

"Alexander loves me! I'm part of his coven! I'm an important part of his coven!" He leapt on her and tried to hit her only to be thrown across the room again. She tried to change his surroundings on him again but he shook his head, gripping his glass filled fist to keep himself grounded.

"I live here for isolation. I don't care who you are or what you want. Leave!"

There was flashing so bright, and a screech like a broken record cutting in and out so loud his ears started to bleed. He cried out but he didn't leave. He let his instincts take over again and sucked down, rushing her and tackling her.

She stabbed his neck with something extremely painful and injected something painful and familiar. He ignored this and sank his teeth into her throat as she Injected him with a second concoction that burned through his throat.

He drank long and hard but only enough to make her go limp but he kept her awake.

"What did you just do to me? Tell me." He demanded.

"Poison." She whispered.

"What poison?" He asked.

"dead Man's blood and werewolf venom. I have the antidote. I can't give it to you if you leave!" She weakly cried out as he shook her.

"Give it t-" he paused, thinking to himself,"No... I don't need the antidote. I came here for something else and you're going to give me that and you're keeping me alive until it can be delivered."

"What!? Why!? Why would you pursue this instead of an antidote?"

"if I return empty handed I failed Alexander."

"If you die you failed Alexander."

"But if I die but get the spells I need or potion then I died saving someone Alexander asked me to save."

"What... Spell do you need?"

"I need to hide someone from a seraphim. Two people, actually. I also have two artifacts to give you as well as cash.... And if there is anything I can give you to ALSO get the antidote, I would do that too. I apologize for attacking you in your own home... But you attacked me in the desert and I need those spells."

She stared at him, her eyes searching his face," Give me some blood and I'll give you what you ask for."

He hesitated but then nodded and did just that. As she recovered,she stabbed him with another needle and whatever she gave him made him pass out.

@alexanderforhire

[timextoxhajima]

All For A Taste

Member: Sunwoo

Genre: FWB stuff ion know / smut stuff

Word Count: 1.6k words

"Did you see him today?" 

"Hm?" You run your fingers through his hair, parting your lips to exhale when he's gently gnawing away at the skin on your chest, the shirt riled up to your collarbones. "No. And I don't think I want to, anyway."

Sunwoo laughs into the marks he's littering all over you. "Why not? Don't you want to look him head to toe and drool over him?"

He finds a sweet spot on your neck now, using his teeth to tug on your skin, his heavy breath igniting goosebumps all over. 

“Just because I have a crush on him doesn’t warrant me the need to ogle over him -- like girls do to you.”

You can feel his lips stretch into a sneaky smile under your chin as he finishes and pulls away, cuing you to look down and note all the dark purple spots on your skin. “I thought you’d be more into the fact that you’re hooking up with a popular guy.”

“Assumption is man’s biggest weakness,” Trailing downwards, he starts leaving sloppy kisses while you are left to stare at the ceiling blankly. “And if it worries you, I’m not hooking up with you because you’re popular. It just so happened that you’re popular.”

Sunwoo pauses and sits up, knees on either sides of your calves. He licks his lips with slight contemplation before pulling his black shirt over his head and throwing it in a corner of the room. “Does that mean you’d still hook up with me if I wasn’t popular?”

A frown forms on your forehead as you look down. Sunwoo’s eyes pierce right through yours as he looks his fingers on the rim on your shorts. 

“Is that how you see me? Someone who hooks up because they are popular--” The breath is sucked out from your lungs when he pulls the rim down low enough to expose your bikini line, and he takes the chance to provide the soft skin some soft kisses. 

“Maybe,” The admittance comes out in a soft whisper against your inner thighs. Sunwoo gently lifts your hips to pull off your shorts, bothering to place it on some surface instead of throwing it to the floor. Your hands travel under the pillow you were lying on, the cool cotton hugging your warmth while Sunwoo’s hands are wandering around your thighs. 

They are warm and almost hot, like his breath on your lower stomach. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re my first and last friend that falls into this category.”

Sunwoo shifts back up to your face and doesn’t hesitate to press his lips into yours, tasting like the coca-cola he drank earlier. Feeling the mattress around your shoulders sink, he keeps his weight above you and never once resting on you. It’s become instinct for you to run your hands from the sides of his pelvis, across the surface of his abdominal muscles and to his chest before finally resting on his cheeks when he kisses you. 

Sunwoo has the ego the size of an elephant and isn’t really fond of it if you aren’t below him. But you take pride in being under him, because it’s not like he’s completely resistant to your touches on his skin. 

He pulls away for some seconds, hand pulling your shirt over your head and helping you get rid of it. “Should I be honored that I’m your first and last friend with such... benefit?”

Sunwoo smirks into the kiss after his question, feeling more force from his weight than before. Your palms cup his jaw, gently pushing him away to trace his bottom lip. 

“You should. Because I don’t think I can do this with anybody else.”

Sunwoo’s low hum as a response sounds closer to some kind of a growl in the back of his throat when he moves some inches down to kiss the bruises on your chest. His hand crawls under your back and removes your bra, the cool air caressing you as opposed to the warmth emitting from his torso. By now, he’s positioned himself to have your legs locked apart by his knees. 

His shoulder blades and back muscles and spine stick out from under his tan skin and veins, the length of his torso crouched over yours like an animal devouring his prey. 

“No strings attached.”

A reminder for the both of you.

Sunwoo doesn’t warn you before he takes the tip of your breast into his mouth and between his lips, harshly sucking on them like he was hungry. Your chin tilts towards the ceiling, back already arching off the mattress but his body above yours an obstacle.

The sensitive tip comes between his teeth while he fondles with the other, kneading them to leave bright red marks around the flesh. 

His hair gets tangled around your fingers, struggling to maintain your composure and not become a mewling mess just from all the foreplay he’s providing you. You can feel his tongue flicking the sensitive tip in his mouth and it forces you to bite down on your bottom lip in a bid to contain the intense chills that thrum through your nerves.

His free hand finally releases your chest and reaches down to tug at your underwear, sucking off your breast with a ‘pop’. Lust overwhelms his gaze when he locks eyes with you, already flushed from whatever he’s done -- though it wasn’t much. 

Then he has that smirk plastered to his face when he pulls off your underwear to reveal how in need you are. Subtly shaking his head just to put you on edge, Sunwoo dips his tongue straight into you, fingers pressing to your nub. 

A gasp runs through your throat when your back abruptly leaves the mattress again, but Sunwoo locks it back down into the cushion in order to continue his work below. You start to feel the throbbing sensation from being all too overwhelmed when he sticks two fingers in with ease -- that’s how lustful you were being. 

Soft moans and groans into your core hits you as vibrations instead, your reflexes crumpling the bedsheets in your palms. 

When he pulls his fingers out and exhibits his tongue lapping up all that glistening fluid on his digits though -- you know he’s trying to be the little shit he is in bed.

Because he knows he’s good.

“Someone’s horny today.” 

Your fingers trace his collarbone, feeling his weight shift about as he struggles to remove his bottoms without detaching his lips from yours. The only thing that Sunwoo would let you have control of was how you kissed: so you don’t pass up on the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth, then biting on his lower lip to evoke the low moans from him. 

He keeps you distracted when he lets you dominate his mouth, but you can feel him poking at your entrance, the coat of lust already making it easy for him to push the tip in. 

Inch by inch, he pushes into you, pulling an inhumane noise that’s of a mixture between a groan and a whimper from you. By now, you’ve lost concentration on his lips and he naturally takes over, mercilessly drinking the moans that were tumbling out your throat. 

“I’m not going to last very long if you’re still this tight, princess.”

“Then don’t, just do what you need to--” 

Your sentence was instantaneously cut off by an interruption in the form of your own whimper when he suddenly pulls out, only to thrust back into you fully. The slap feels louder against your skin that in your ears, and you can feel him twitching inside you from the sheer force of sin flowing in both your veins. 

Sunwoo dips his nose into your neck, allowing your fingers to dig into his back, drawing bright lines of pink into his skin as he slowly picks up his pace. The force jerks the entire bedframe with every thrust, your thighs being pushed back with every roll his hips make forward. 

His grunts are louder when your walls clench down on him inside you, but his moans aren’t doing you any good when his lips are right at your ear, gently nibbling on your earlobe. 

But Sunwoo knows the exact spot that makes you tick, so he subtly forces your hips upwards with his thighs to change the angle ever so slightly. The change in your breathing is a prideful fuel for him, so the confidence urges him to pick up the pace in that angle.

Soon, he hears his own name spewing out off your tongue and into his hair, your hands desperate to pull his face into yours so he can muffle all the needy cries. You can start to feel the sweat between your bodies, and Sunwoo’s rugged breathing also hinted that he was reaching his high as well. 

Sunwoo curses under his breath between your lips, helping you reach your high first while you tremble and shake and fall apart under him. His sweat-damp fringe is stuck to his forehead as he offers the last few thrusts before he hits his own climax, hurriedly pulling out to release on your stomach.

The huffs from him hits your lips, his forehead pressed against yours but eyes looking down to see both of your heaving torsos. He looks back up at you through his lashes before giving you one more hungry kiss despite the fatigue sinking in, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek as he pulls away. 

Taking a deep breath, he licks his lips and gulps. A small smile appears on his face when he sits up on his knees to admire the picture he’s painted on your neck and chest.

“I might just miss this when one of us gets into a real relationship.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

[nurse-buckley]

Caveat Donor

Fandom: 9-1-1  Word Count: 2,270 Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, blood drives, needles, panic attacks, medical trauma.  Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz , @fireladybuckley @pupandangelscoffee @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085  Thank you to my amazing beta @firemedicdiaz and for helping me come up with the amazing dad joke of a title <3  When the fire station holds another blood drive, you fear the excuses you’ve used in the past won’t work. 

GIF belongs to @firefighter-diaz

The posters advertising the blood drive the firehouse held every few months had been up for a while, raising your anxiety each time you had walked past them. 

The day had finally come, the rest of the team helping the nurses who’d volunteered set out the chairs and equipment they’d need. Your mind is racing trying to come up with a good enough excuse as to why you wouldn’t be donating this month; the ‘feeling under the weather’ excuse could only work so many times before someone questioned you. 

You excuse yourself once the majority of the equipment has been set up, making your way upstairs to get a hot drink and calm the nerves that have already started to rise at the sight of the various needles and empty blood bags you’d been setting out not long before. With shaky hands, you pour your drink and carry it over to the couch and attempt to take your mind off what is going on below you. 

Maybe it’s the liquid you’ve been filling up on or maybe the nervous energy you’re feeling but it gets to the point where you can no longer hold your urge to pee. You dread the thought of having to walk down the stairs, knowing that you’ll likely be accosted the moment you step foot on to the main concourse. Deciding to swallow your fears, you make a run for it, heading down the stairs and into the locker rooms without being seen, the others too busy having their blood drawn to notice you. 

You take your time in the bathroom, your nerves on high alert, not knowing who you’d come face to face with on your way out. After ten minutes you decide enough is enough, you run shaking hands under the faucet, splashing your face with the cool liquid in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Exiting the bathroom, you make your way back out into the firehouse, seeing Buck sitting on a donation chair, squeezing a red ball while the nurse preps the equipment for the blood draw. Hen’s next to him pressing a cotton ball to the crook of her elbow, having just completed her donation. The younger firefighter spots you immediately, flashing you a smile as he pats the empty chair next to him that Eddie has just vacated. “You’re up next!” 

You feel a cold sensation run through your body as though someone has injected ice into your veins. Your stomach drops as you stare at the empty chair the blonde is pointing at. 

“Uh, no. I-uh I’m not donating today,” you stall, attempting to come up with any excuse and failing. 

You’re about to turn to take your leave as you bump into Chim, clipboard in hand. The contact startles you and you take a step back, making space between you and the other firefighter. “Looks like you haven’t donated…” he pauses looking through his chart that you’re sure has no real information on it. You know he’s on to you as your eyes meet, “well...in...ever. You’ve never donated since you joined the 118. Why is that?” 

“I-uh. Guess I’ve just been busy and besides, last time you all donated I was sick and couldn’t donate,” you manage to recover, your voice only slightly shaking.  

“Well, you look like you’re feeling okay now, and there’s an empty seat next to Buck.” 

Glancing over you see no one has taken Eddie’s place, leaving it open. You can feel your hands trembling again, your panic rising further. “Listen, I can’t. Not today, Chim. Sorry.” 

“You know, if someone had said that when I was in that car accident, or when I was stabbed, I might have died.” 

There it was. The guilt trip. 

“Maybe next time, I’m just not up to it today.” 

You begin to shake as Hen makes her way over, having had the all clear from the nurse who’d taken her blood. “What’s the big deal Y/N? We’ve all given blood today. You scared of a little needle?” 

Just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, Eddie makes his way over, a cup of juice in hand. He takes a sip, eyeing your reaction to your friends’ interrogations. The way you’re shaking doesn’t escape him, your breathing coming in quicker and your eyes welling up with tears. 

A cold flush runs through your body and you feel as though your stomach has dropped. You feel trapped as your friends surround you, their voices seeming to grow louder as they continue to bombard you with reasons why you should be giving blood. 

The guilt inside you begins to rise; you know, even without your friends’ comments, the good donated blood does. Chim had been saved by donated blood both in the car accident and after Doug had attacked him, and Buck after the surgeries he’d endured.    

“Guys, maybe we should just leave it alone for now,” Eddie speaks up for the first time since he’d approached. 

“I just think Y/N should give a valid reason why they don’t want to, we’ve all done it,” you hear Buck call from the chair. 

You glance over at Buck, needle in arm, the crimson liquid running down the tube connected to his arm and any resolve you have left not to run breaks. “Just leave me alone!” You shout, storming past your friends. 

Your outburst takes them by surprise. The four look between each other, not wanting to meet each other's gazes, as a wave of guilt falls over them.  They’re starting to realize that maybe they’d gone too far in pushing you, but it had worked before in convincing Bobby. Eddie looks between the three other firefighters, shaking his head. 

“Shouldn’t someone go after them?” Buck calls; he’d have attempted to follow if it weren’t for him being mid-donation. 

Eddie stares off in your direction. He knows the signs of a panic attack all too well. “Just give them a minute to cool off.” 

After a few minutes a nurse approaches Buck, removing the needle from the crook of his arm, replacing it with a cotton ball. Hen and Chim are busying themselves helping the other volunteers, wiping down chairs and fetching juice for the other donors. There’s still no sign of you and Eddie begins to worry. 

Footsteps fill the silence as they enter into the washroom, letting you know you are no longer alone. You suck in a breath, not wanting your quiet sobs to alert whoever has come to find you, afraid that maybe they’ve come to try to convince you again. 

A figure approaches, casting a looming shadow against the shower curtain you’ve pulled across to hide behind. Your shaking begins again and you curl in on yourself to make yourself as small and hidden in the cubicle as possible. You expect the curtain to be ripped open, but are confused when the shadow stands, unmoving on the other side. 

“You okay in there?” 

Eddie. Well at least it’s not Chim here for another guilt trip. 

Your sniffles are the only reply he gets; you’re not sure if you can trust your voice, the tears still falling in silent sobs. 

With no response, Eddie tries again. “I’m going to open the curtain, alright?” His voice is low, taking it slow as to not spook you further. 

He gently pulls back the curtain, revealing you tucked into the corner of the cubicle, knees drawn to your chest and your face buried as you’ve curled in on yourself. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as you attempt to gain control of your emotions.  

You look up at the intrusion, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks stained with tears. “I’m sorry.” With the apology, the dam breaks once more as you release the pent up anxiety from the last few days.  

Eddie doesn’t say anything, instead moving in to join you in the cubicle. He sits down on the floor beside you, mirroring your position with his knees to his chest as he settles into the space next to you. He rests his hands on his knees, not wanting to spook you or initiate contact if you don’t want it. “Want to talk about it?” 

You nod your head, uncurling yourself and wiping the tears from your cheeks. You suck in a shaky breath, sniffing as you compose yourself. “When I was younger I had a lot of health issues. My mom was always running me back and forth to different hospitals; often against my will. I knew it was for my health but what kid likes being stuck with needles every week?” 

Eddie nods in understanding, letting you know he’s still listening, not wanting to interrupt you. 

“The worst was when they finally found out what was wrong with me. I was in a room, my mom and the doctor either side of me, forcing me to have surgery. I felt so trapped, Eddie. When everyone started surrounding me earlier, I just started to panic. That same feeling of not being in control was coming back.” 

Your body begins shaking again, your breathing coming in quicker as you relive both traumas. Eddie senses your panic, moving his arm around your back, bringing you closer to his side, gently squeezing your shoulder in an attempt to ground you. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”  

You shake your head at his response, “it’s in the past I guess. It all just came rushing back today with the anxiety I was already feeling. Then seeing Buck with the needle in his arm...when I was admitted for surgery I remember being stuck five different times as they tried to find a vein, no nurse caring that I was crying or giving me a break until they blew one vessel after another.” 

Eddie lets out a breath, shaking his head at the information you’ve just told him. “I-I can’t imagine what that must have been like. If we had known, we would have never pressured you into donating today.” 

You turn to face him, your eyes meeting for the first time since he’d found you. “It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for knowing my past.” 

“We could have been a bit more sensitive around the subject matter; maybe we should have known since you’ve avoided every donation event we’ve run at the firehouse.” 

You shrug, “it’s not that I don’t not want to donate. I do. I admit the guilt from Chim doesn’t help. I guess I’m just scared; scared it’ll hurt, scared I’ll find myself back in the hospital surrounded by doctors and nurses.” 

“You know, Christopher gets like this sometimes with his hospital appointments. What helps him is knowing everything that’s going to happen. So, if you want to donate, maybe we can take it step by step. Next time I donate blood, you can sit next to me, watch the process, and when you’re ready maybe you can try.” 

Eddie can feel you trembling at even the thought of giving blood, giving you another squeeze as he continues, “and if you don’t feel like you're ready, or change your mind, that’s alright too. I’ll be with you no matter what you decide. You can be in control the whole time and if Chim has anything to say about it, he can answer to me.” 

A wave of relief washes over you for the first time that day, you smile as you look up to the man beside you, “thank you, Eddie.” 

“Do you think you’re ready to go back out there?” 

You nod, watching as Eddie stands up and offers his hand. He easily pulls you to your feet, wrapping his arm protectively around your back as he guides you out into the station’s truck bay. Hen and Chim catch you walking past them, wanting to approach, but one look from Eddie tells them to give you space. The brunette leads you upstairs, settling you on the couch once more. 

Buck makes his way upstairs, he glances at Eddie, gauging the situation before a nod from the other man confirms he can approach. He walks towards where you’re sitting, taking the seat beside you, “listen, I-uh. I didn’t mean to push you for an answer; it’s your choice if you do or don’t donate blood. I shouldn’t have forced you into thinking you had to.” 

You lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. He returns your gesture with an arm around your back, pulling you close into a sideways hug. You look up to see Hen and Chim talking with Eddie, not having realised they’d come up to find you. The anxiety you had felt earlier at being surrounded begins to rise as they make their way over to where you are sitting. Buck feels you tense against him, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm in an attempt to comfort you. 

Eddie can see your change in demeanour from his position, making his way over to comfort you and intervene if you get upset again. The pair approach awkwardly, Chim being the first to speak after a not so subtle nudge from Hen. “I’m sorry for pushing you earlier. That was a dick move, trying to guilt you into it.” 

“I’m sorry too; we didn’t think.” 

The apologies from your friends help ease your anxiety, their understanding meaning more to you than they would ever know. With the knowledge that you are in control once again you relax. Who knows? Maybe next time the firehouse holds a blood drive, you just might be willing to donate.

[little-diable]

Yours, forever - Din Djarin (smut)

Requested by anon

Hope this is what you had in mind, enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The fem!reader helps Din on a job, but Din hates seeing his wife flirt with the bounty, so he takes her home, simply to remind her who she belongs to  

Warnings: spanking, dom!Din, choking, restrains, unprotected sex 

“Din” (y/n) mumbled his name, trying not to smudge her lipstick, eyes focused on her reflection, “Din” no words left his mouth, helmet staring at her as she got ready. “Do you not trust me?” she whispered the words, averting her eyes as he rose from the box he was sitting on, gloved hands meeting her waist, pulling her against his beskar. “Of course I do, it’s him who I don’t trust”.

He had known from the moment he had taken on the job that it won’t be an easy task, the bounty was known for his worth, he was clever and quick to slip out of one's hands. (Y/n) had been by Din’s side for long, would support him with his jobs and would look after the child, all while falling for the Mandalorian and eventually marrying him. She knew how much he was struggling with this task, so (y/n) had taken matters into her own hand, she’d try to lure the man in, flirting as he’d drown a few drinks, till Din would eventually step in and take him captive.

“Din” (y/n) turned around in his grip, cupping the helmet, thumb running along the cold beskar, “I’ll be careful, you’ll be there to protect me anyways. I only have eyes for you, my handsome, strong husband”. Din placed his forehead against hers, hands squeezing her sides as he let out a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. The child cooed, arms reaching out for Din, slipping into the bag Din would carry it around with. 

The bar on Navarro was filled with different species, the atmosphere was buzzing, (y/n)s eyes instantly fell onto the bounty, a tall, quite handsome man who had his arms slung around a few barely dressed women. Din stayed hidden away in a dark corner, hands grasping the table, trying to stop himself from stepping in just yet. The harder he concentrated on his wife the more his bulge seemed to grow, twitching for her, how much he wanted to push her against the nearest wall, to fuck her into oblivion, reminding her that she was his, his alone.

As (y/n) stepped up to the bar she instantly felt the bounty's eyes on her, shamelessly checking her out, pushing the girls around him away. “My my what is a gorgeous woman like you doing all on her own?” the words made her cringe, forcing a smile onto her lips, “who said that I was alone?”, she took a sip of her drink, eyes hooked onto his piercing blue ones. A throaty chuckle bubbled out of him, placing his hand on the small of her back as he pulled her towards a table, hand wandering lower and lower with every step he took.

(Y/n) caught Din’s gaze from across the room, well at least she was fairly certain that he was staring at her, she shook her head, telling him to wait, he’d be gone before Din would have reached them. She barely focused on the words the bounty was speaking, mind wandering back to last night as Din had his way with her, eyes hidden by a blindfold, wrists bound together. “What are you thinking of beautiful?” he placed his hand on her knee, trying to move it up her thigh as she inhaled, clenching her jaw as a bile rose in her throat, “why don’t we get out of here?”.

It took her a few moments to reply, pondering over her next moves, praying that Din was still focused on her and the bounty, that he’d get to them before the man would manage to take (y/n) away. Hesitantly she took his hand, stepping out into the chillying night air, her heart was racing, palms sweaty, mind only set on her husband and their clan of three. “I don’t think so” the slightly metallic voice echoed through the night, coaxing a relieved sigh out of (y/n), thank goodness.

Din had to fire a few shots, till the man crashed down onto the floor, unconscious, “alright, we’ll turn him in, get our credits and then we’ll leave, I’m sick of this planet”. His voice dripped with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, though his deep, raspy undertone shot shivers down her spine, made heat pool between her thighs, trying to keep her moan from rolling off her tongue.

The moment they were back on the razor crest Din had pulled her into his chest, murmuring a small “clothes off, blindfold on”, smirking to himself as she basically ran towards their shared cot. He placed the child down, its eyes were closed, already fast asleep, at least they wouldn’t have to worry about it for a few hours. 

“I’ll never again let another man touch you like this” Din spat, ripping off his helmet, stepping into the dark room, door sliding shut behind him.

Her naked chest was pressed against the covers, ass high in the air, eyes squeezed shut, even though they stayed hidden behind the black blindfold. “I’m yours Din” (y/n) moaned, this beskar crashed down onto the floor, the rest of his clothes following shortly after, stepping towards the cot. “Yes, yes you are” Din pressed his length against her behind, rubbing it through her wet folds, hands kneading the flesh of her ass.

By now she was dripping, arousal sticking to her skin, nipples painfully hardening with every passing second, she was completely done for, Din had her at his mercy.

“Tonight, I’ll remind you who you belong to, you’re mine, mine alone” a harsh slap got delivered to her behind, skin wiggling from the impact, though it seemed like he was waiting for something, repeating his action, till finally a small “one” left her lips. The third slap knocked all air out of her lungs, he seemed to burn his handprint into her skin, marking her in more than just one way. “Two” her voice was quivering, teeth piercing through her lower lip, drawing a bit of blood, urged on by the iron taste.

He took it up to ten slaps, her skin was burning, painfully so, but no pain had ever felt as good as this, boobs rubbing against the covers with every harsh motion of his, adding to the pleasure that flooded through her. “Turn around cyar’ika” a hiss made it past her lips as her behind came in contact with the covers, legs wrapping themselves around his waist, trying to pull him closer. (Y/n) was aching for him, desperate to feel his length buried in her heat, to rip her open with every thrust of his.

“Don’t be impatient” he warned her, he was shifting around, as if he was searching for something, “wrists” Din pressed out, tying them to the bed, keeping her locked in place. “Din” (y/n) squealed his name, arousal dripping onto his length, coating the velvety skin with her slick. 

He spat onto her clit, rubbing his saliva into the sensitive bundle of nerves as he pounded into her, he didn’t give her a warning, Din wouldn’t let her adjust, at least not on days where he needed to make one thing clear, that she was his, his alone. Her jaw fell slack, a few incoherent words bubbled out of her, walls tightly grasping his thick, veiny length, squeezing him like he was aching for.

Both were high on the adrenaline that took over their bodies, an indescribable force seemed to bind them together, bringing them closer to the edge with every passing moment. Though it seemed as if Din wasn’t satisfied yet, hand wandering up her soft skin, squeezing her nipples, a motion that let her arch her back, trying to press herself closer. The sound of their skin slapping reverberated through the small space, drowning out their moans, the air around them grew hotter, made sweat beard their skins.

Din’s fingers danced up her throat, squeezing a bit tighter, just enough to make her curl her toes, but not enough to cut off her airway. “Who do you belong to?” his thrusting suddenly stopped, completely stopped, patiently waiting for her to collect her thoughts, squeezing out a small, though powerful “you”, lips parted as he began to build up the pressure once again. She felt like she was on cloud nine, body belonging to the man her heart had started calling hers years ago, Din had her wrapped around his little finger, proving his love to her at any given chance. 

“I love you” Din panted, forehead falling against hers, thumb rubbing her clit, pushing her closer and closer to her release. Maker it felt like they were made for one another, even after years of exploring their bodies both still felt like it was the first time all over again, excited to give into their orgasms, aching to hear the sounds that would rumble through them. “I love you too” (y/n) squealed, “not yet cyar'ika, you need to earn it”, she knitted her eyebrows, trying to process what he had just told her, overly and utterly confused.

(Y/n) shook her head in a rather pathetic manner, “please” she begged, tears soaked through the blindfold, hands tugging on his roots, walls clenching around his length, “oh please Din”. He didn’t reply, let go of her throat to curl his fingers into the covers, “try it again”, Din couldn’t stop imagining how beautiful she’d look with flushed cheeks as his length would rip her apart, disappearing into her with every thrust of his. “Stars, Din, please, please, I’m yours, please-” her cry made him groan, nodding his head as he finally gave in, finally pushing her over the cliff. 

The inferno that began to rise in the pit of her stomach creeped up her vein, made white noises engulf her, body shaking from the powerful orgasm. Din needed a few more thrusts, pace faltering as his own release made him lose all focus, painting her walls white as he trembled on top of her, trying not to crush her underneath his weight. Wordlessly she interlaced her fingers with hers, pressing her lips to his skin, “I’m yours, forever”.

[twstoric]

Prompt 1 from a female reader @ sugar baby Ruggie if that’s okay 😳

✎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: ruggie bucchi x f!reader

✎ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁: Number 01 — “A collar would look good on you.”

✎ 𝗮𝘂 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁: [unspecified]

✎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀): oral (receiving), mentions of cum play, 100% sugar baby material ruggie

✎ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: *clenches fist* it’s time to go all out

“Fuckk,” the vulgar word drawled out into a broken moan followed by a harsh suck of Ruggie's mouth to your dripping core. He moans loudly—obscenely and shakes his hips high in the air. The blond places a wet kiss to your inner thigh before grinning up at you. “Feelin’ good, ma’am?”  

Your fingers tangle in dirty blond, the occasional tugs against his hair makes your baby moan sweetly, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh. “You’re a little eager today, aren’t you?” The grin he gives you in return is adorable; long lashes blinking up at you as if he’s high.

“You taste amazing,” he slurs, lopsided smile on his face. The colour of his face is painted in strawberries, mouth watering slightly as you nudge him closer to your dripping pussy. Ruggie eagerly dives in; the taste of your arousal like delicacy in his mouth. His tongue licks and prods at your center, nose pressed against your clit further stimulating you. As if drunk on your taste, the blond’s hips shake uselessly, dick painfully hard and neglected. 

He doesn’t seem to mind what with the way his mouth eagerly laps at your cunt; spurred by the sound of your pants and glowing under your praise. “That’s it, baby,” you breathe, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together when Ruggie’s canines accidently graze your lips. “Fuck, imagine your cum already inside me.”

There’s a sharp inhale before a harsh suck; fingers clawing at your thigh in slight desperation. “You’d like that? Having you eat me out and tasting us together?” Ruggie whines in response, pushing himself harder into you as if wanting to suffocate himself. His mouth slots perfectly with your cunt, cute tongue lapping at your juices. There’s nothing else he can think of except tasting you deeper; taking his fill of you and knowing he’ll never have enough—it’s never enough and he mouths at you harder as if to commit your taste to memory. 

The eager way he indulges himself in you fills the building pressure in your stomach, expanding and toyed with by the boy giving you his heart and soul. The rough texture of his tongue drags pleasure up your spine with every flick. Your fingers tangle in his hair to ground yourself; a useless feat when Ruggie tips the edge of your sanity and you’re cumming with a cry of his name.

His ears flick frantically on his head, brushing against your hands in their hasty movements and you blink down your high to pay attention to his sudden jerky movements. Ruggie is still pressing his face to your pussy, tasting the result of your pleasure on his tongue and you have to gently push his head back when you risk touching the steps of overstimulation. 

“Ruggie, slow down,” your hips wiggle away and Ruggie finally blinks his eyes open. “Are you okay? Here, get under me and I’ll help you.”  Just as you move to sit up, a whimper tore in the blond’s lips before he’s pushing you down frantically. 

“N- no, don’t.” He begs frantically, panic in his eyes. There’s something screaming in the back of your hand but you force yourself to push it back as you cup his face. 

Ruggie visibly relaxes at your touch; nuzzling his face in your hands. “Was it too much? We could take a break and—“

“N- not that.” 

You raise a brow. The colour of his cheeks tint with a darker glow of red, spreading over his face to the tips of his ears as Ruggie composes himself. “I want t’ try that.. um. That thing you said..” he trails, voice growing quieter and ears pressing down against his head.

You blink, thumb swiping over his cheeks to make sure his attention is on you. “You want to taste your cum in my pussy?” An embarrassed whine leaves his lips and you can’t help the small laugh you make in response. 

“Master’s so dirty,” he sighs, shaking his head in mock exasperation. 

The light atmosphere shifts when you cup his aching cock, already painfully hard and dripping precum down to your stomach. “Darling,” you purr, pressing a kiss to his lips and feeling the light twitch in your hand. “Anything you want is for me to provide~”

Ruggie presses another kiss to your lips, more clumsy and frantic as he hastily spreads your legs apart. When his hand replaces yours to guide his cock to your entrance, a small groan leaves his lips and you take the moment to remind him to slow down. “Right,” he hufts, taking a shuddering breath and he groans for a whole other reason when the tip of his cock kisses the lips of your entrance. 

Precum smears at your arousal, further drenching you in excitement. His tip easily pushes past your lips, drawing out breathy moans from both of your lips as Ruggie slides in slowly, gently and bottoms out with a heavy purr. 

“Such a good pup,” you tease, trembling with every grind to your cunt. His cock fits snugly inside you, sculpted perfectly for you to indulge in as Ruggie drowns at the way you wrap around him sweetly. Your hand wraps loosely around his neck, feeling the skin drenched with sweat; veins protruding against his skin and pulse thudding erratically under your fingers. “A collar would look good on you.”

“Fuck, fuck, ngh- shit, yeah. Put a collar on me—make me yours,” his hips snap against yours, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Let everyone know who I belong to- fuck, master, you feel so good.” He whines, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hips doesn’t stop moving; driving his cock deeper inside you, the tip kissing that nerve that makes you see white. 

With a last snap, Ruggie’s grinding hashly against you, emptying his cum inside you. You come soon after, feeling the warm gush of his seed painting your insides. You’re holding onto him like a lifeline, suddenly feeling overly sore. 

You don’t get to catch your breath before Ruggie’s pulling away, a grin on his lips. “Hope you’re not tired yet, master,” all traces of fatigue leaves his face, body recovering faster than you can register and suddenly Ruggie is pawing at your legs, waiting for you to spread them. He smiles, eyes blinking in faux innocence and the blond tilts his head as his lips brush against your thigh, murmuring against your skin: 

"Anything I wanted, right?"

[hongism]

like you mean it - lucas x reader

➻ pairing: lucas x fem!reader ➻ wc: 3.5k ➻ genre: pwp, smut, fwb ➻ rating: M, 18+ ➻ warnings: explicit smut, oral sex: m receiving, creampie, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping, cum eating, overstimulation, daddy kink, face-fucking, spitting (in the mouth), choking, pain kink ➻ summary: you just want to get lucas to let go a little. him being in a bad mood isn’t helping in the slightest.

​​​

A shaky breath leaves your lungs, fogging up the mirror before you. The air in the bathroom is cold and causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. You aren’t wearing much; just a thin black set of lace lingerie that Lucas got you not too long ago. You’ve never had the chance to wear it so this is the first time you’ve even tried it on, let alone in front of your friend.

Friend. The word almost leaves a bad taste on your tongue because you wouldn’t say that the two of you are friends. Friends with benefits, yes. But ‘friends’ is a bit more dangerous and alludes to there being a relationship past this arrangement you two have.

You stand up straight, smoothing your hands over the front of your lingerie set, and then step away from the bathroom counter. Lucas isn’t here yet but you got the abrupt text that he was on his way not too long ago. It was short and sweet – well, not exactly sweet because he seemed to be in a mood over the phone. It got the job done nonetheless though, and you wasted no time getting ready until now. You shouldn’t be nervous because Lucas has seen you in far less than this, but he’s never seen you in something like this either. Despite being his fuckbuddy, there is quite a bit of insecurity tied to it because you’re enough for a fuck but not a relationship. Not that you want one. You don’t. Again, it’s the reason why you make sure the two of you aren’t anything more than friends with benefits. More like associates with benefits, but still.

You step out of the bathroom just as the door swings open. It hits the wall with a loud thud, and Lucas strides through. He’s stripping as he comes in, jacket finding a new home off to the side, and there’s so much tension in his shoulders that they’re nearly raised to his ears. He slams the door shut just as quickly as he opened it. The second the door slams, Lucas begins to strip his shirt off to join the jacket that hit the wall. He doesn’t seem to notice you yet, so you stay by the doorway to the bathroom with your arms folded over your body. Perhaps it was a bad choice to decide to do this today of all days, but you were hoping it could cheer him up a little since he’s in such a bad mood.

You dare to clear your throat. Lucas’ head snaps towards where you’re standing. Hungry eyes eat up your appearance, taking in each line of fabric that leads the eye towards bare skin, and you subconsciously curl further into yourself.

“Hands down,” Lucas orders with ease, and you follow the command without complaint. Your hands fall to your side. Lucas’ eyes continue to rake over your form, taking in every inch of your body until he’s satisfied. “I knew you’d look good and fuckable in that.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot and gnaw at the inside of your lip. You can’t fight the small grin that begins to creep up your lips as you take in the compliment. It sends a surge of heat to your core as well, and you squeeze your thighs together in attempts to eliminate some of the pressure building up there. Lucas is equally scary and sexy when somewhat angry, and if you weren’t about to be fucked by him, you would be more scared than you are currently. However, the whole reason he’s here is to fuck you, so you’re only turned on by the way he shifts his jaw and grinds his teeth as he looks over your form.

You don’t waste any time is going over to where he’s standing near the door. His hands linger on the waistband of his jeans but go no further, and you understand what he wants you to do without him having to say it. You drop to your knees in front of him and replace his hands with your own on his pants. The button and zipper are warm under your touch, and Lucas isn’t aroused yet. It’s most likely due to his anger, and you should know that, but part of you is a bit insulted that he wasn’t turned on immediately when he saw you in the lingerie. So you’re going to work extra hard to make up for it.

You drag his zipper down nice and slow, glancing up at his face through fluttering lashes, and the button pops next. With a quick yank, you tug his jeans down to his knees, leaving only his black briefs in your way. You make short work of them too, however, and his semihard member springs free. Lucas hisses as cold air breezes over his sensitive cock. You use that to your advantage too and dribble warm spit onto the palm of your hand.

“Did you have a rough day?” You ask out of the blue before wrapping your spit-slick fingers around his member. Lucas doesn’t respond, a low groan leaving his lips as you take hold of his cock. You can’t hold back the smile that creeps onto your expression. From all your time together, you can say with confidence that you know every nook and cranny of Lucas’ body, and you know exactly what buttons to push and when.

You squeeze the base of his cock when he doesn’t respond, urging him to reply quicker. Lucas doesn’t like your little show of control over him though. A hand darts out and fingers close around your throat. He tightens his grip ever so slightly and at the perfect angle. It draws a low whine out of you. Arousal blossoms in your gut. He tugs you closer to his hips, a sneer overtaking his lips, and you almost release a throaty moan. Somehow you manage to hold it back long enough for him to get a sentence out.

“What was that, baby girl?”

“N-Nothing.”

“Come again?”

“No-Nothing, Daddy,” you stammer out, trying to swallow. The pressure on your neck makes it a bit difficult to do so, however, and you’re left with an overabundance of saliva in your mouth.

“That’s a good girl,” Lucas smirks down at you. His hand slides away from your throat and catches on one of the straps of the lingerie. With quick fingers, he yanks the material away. “Don’t be shy. You were so confident not too long ago. Why don’t you continue?”

The words spur you on, humiliation burning at your skin, and you release another string of saliva onto his now hardened cock. You move with a bit more haste this time though. Lucas’ hands travel higher as you move, trailing a path up your neck and burying in your hair. Your lips brush the tip of his dick. You manage to take him halfway in one go and drag the flat of your tongue across the underside of his cock. He’s rock hard under your touch, each vein bulges a little, and you trace the lines with your tongue. Lucas’ grip on your hair tightens but he doesn’t take control yet. Rather, he lets you continue your teasing motions; swallowing as you bob along his member, lapping at his slit, sucking at the wrong times intentionally. You are simultaneously pleasing him and frustrating him, and it’s quite a joy to do so. Each movement draws a louder moan from his chest than the last.

Lucas must get fed up with your antics though, because he pulls you off his member by the hair and takes hold of his cock in his free hand. You gasp at the suddenness of his actions, panting as you try to recover some from the lack of air you just suffered. Lucas doesn’t give you long though. He slaps the head of his cock against your lips. It leaves a string of precum between your lips and his dick, and you are eager to lap it up. The taste is pleasantly salty as it hits your tongue. After a second, Lucas pushes his cock back between your lips and bottoms out in an instant. He roughly brushes against your throat. The anger radiating off his body becomes more evident, and his movements get more erratic as he thrusts into your wet heat. He keeps you in place with that ruthless grip on your hair. It’s almost painful the way he keeps slamming against the back of your throat, but each spasm of pain sends another shockwave of arousal to your core. The sensation has you trembling under Lucas, and you know you’re close to getting what you want.

For him to lose all sense of control.

Lucas always fucks you best when he fucks you senseless without a care in the world, the almost ruthless aggression of the way he handles you is nothing short of perfect. You want him to just have his way with you and take you with reckless abandon. The only way to get that out of him is to push those buttons some more. He’s already halfway there, if you just act up and be a bit of a brat, you’re sure you can get what you’re after without any issue.

The pressure that his cock is exerting on your throat is enough to bring tears to your eyes, as is the lack of oxygen. It causes a dull pain to rise in your chest, the slight squeeze only sends shockwaves of arousal through you. The sensation is so good and palpable that you could orgasm right then and there. Lucas seems to notice this, however, and robs you of that incoming orgasm by pulling out of your mouth. You gasp for air, fresh air entering your lungs at last, and Lucas maintains the grip on your hair.

“You like that, baby girl?” He sneers, yanking your hair back to make you look up at him.

“Y-Yes, Da-addy.”

“Like when my fat cock rams against your throat? The pain it brings? You’re a little slut for pain, aren’t you?” He tugs your hair again. A high-pitched whine escapes you at the sensation, affirming his words with the simple motion. “Fuck you look so pretty with tears running down your face like this. Make me wanna fuck you right here.”

You brace your hands on his thighs and squeeze the muscle under your fingers ever so slightly. Lucas hisses at the sensation of your nail dragging over his skin.

“Then do it,” you respond with a teasing lilt to your voice. Lucas’ fingers flex in your hair. You shift and try to lean forward. You manage to get far enough forward to lap at his slit and collect the precum hanging on the tip before Lucas yanks you back again.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what do you think you’re doing?” Lucas bends at the waist. He hovers over you, teeth gritted as he glares into your ever-playful eyes, and you blink back at him. Excitement swirls in your gut. He’s so close to breaking loose. You could get him there with just a few more teasing antics. You drag your left hand across his thigh, and your fingers ghost over the base of his member. His dick twitches against your touch. That’s the final straw for Lucas, and he smacks your hand away with little effort. You release a small yelp as he tugs your head again, back arching as pleasure shoots through you. Lucas holds you in place as he brings his face closer to yours, and his other hand makes its way to your lips. He pries them open even after you give a teasing bite to his index finger. Once he has your mouth stretched under his fingers, he releases a string of spit onto your waiting tongue. You choke out a giggle at the action, wiggling your tongue a bit before his spit hits you. The hand in your hair disappears, and Lucas shoves you back roughly.

You moan as he pushes you away. Your orgasm is taunting you with its closeness and you just want Lucas to go back to fucking your mouth so you can cum, but he probably won’t allow you to cum anytime soon because of your teasing. The edging is the best part though, and you gnaw on your lower lip, keeping his spit at the forefront of your tongue. Lucas strides towards you and closes the distance between you with calculated steps. His hand wraps around the back of your head and entangles in your hair once more. He falls to his knees, joining you on the floor, and places one knee on either side of your reclining form. He uses his free hand to guide his cock back to your mouth, and it seems that you’ll be getting what you want after all. You drop your jaw without being told to, the spit still collected on your tongue. Lucas growls at the sight. He thrusts all the way into your mouth without any hesitation and hits the back of your throat in an instant. You gag around his cock, and just that one thrust is enough to cause an orgasm to crash over you. You moan around him, legs jerking and thrashing until Lucas presses down on them to stop your frantic movements.

Lucas keeps fucking your mouth with erratic thrusts as you recover from the sudden orgasm. He only stops when his own high hits. Hot cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. You cough as he pulls out, cum still leaking from his member and dribbling down your chin. Lucas sits back on his heels. His chest heaves from the intense exertion he just put himself through, and your own chest matches the movements. One of his large hands drags over the front of your lingerie, tracing the strap he pulled down already to the curve of your breasts. A low groan slips out. Both hands come down to your hips, and Lucas tugs you up with little effort, securing your legs around his waist before standing up straight again.

“Feeling better?” You ask with a smile to your lips. You drape your arms over his shoulders and lean forward to capture his mouth with your own. He meets you halfway, not even caring about the excess cum still on your lips and face. When he pulls back though, he brings a hand up to collect the rest of his seed and pushes it between your lips. You lick his fingers clean, swirling your wet muscle over the length of his digits.

“You’re so fucking sexy in this getup.”

“Shut up and rail me.”

“Sorry, princess, but you don’t make the rules,” Lucas says through a smirk. You blink at him twice then suddenly you are no longer in his arms. You squeal as you fall to the mattress of your bed without warning, heart racing erratically in the confines of your chest. Lucas pushes your legs open. He brings one of those large hands down to the bottoms of your lingerie. You gasp as he brushes over your clit, the lace rubbing against your skin in just the right way. Even if less angry,‌ Lucas is still quite impatient, and he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to tease and edge you tonight. He loops the material around his fingers and yanks it down. The thin lace gives way under his touch, tearing as he pulls it.

“Come on, Lucas, these were brand new,” you complain as you hear the fabric rip. Lucas brings the flat of his hand down against your pussy. You jerk, back arching off the bed, and a surprised whine escapes you. You clasp a hand over your lips.‌ The sound that just left your body is one you’ve never emitted before, and you’re shocked that Lucas drew it out with such ease. When you glance up at his face, he’s maintaining the same smirk as before. Then he slaps your bare cunt again. You release the same whine again, hand flying down to grab Lucas’ forearm.

“Do you like that, slut?”

“H-Hold on, I’m gonna – I’ll c-cum, ho-old on, Lu-Lucas–ah!” You thrash under his touch as he repeats the motion again.

“You’ll cum again? From having you pussy slapped like this?” Lucas chuckles. He snaps his wrist, palm making contact with your folds again. The slight sting that emanates from where he hit you is almost too much for you to handle, especially so soon after you came the first time. Lucas doesn’t let up though; he uses his left hand to spread your folds open then slaps right against your sensitive bud. You clench around nothing, crying out from the waves of pleasure that wash over you with each slap.

“Pl-Please, Daddy, Da-addy, please. I-I need to c-cum. Please, please, please. Ple-ease let me cum,” you beg desperately, fingers clawing at the mattress as your orgasm continues to escape your grasp. Lucas merely releases a small laugh. He traces over your folds with two fingers, coating them with your arousal, then dips then into your core. You whine as he immediately begins to stretch you open. He curls the fingers inside you, narrowly missing your sweet spot. He continues to dodge it, and you know it’s on purpose because of the glint in his eyes. You thrash under him, desperate to get his fingers deeper inside you.

As soon as he notices your efforts, Lucas pulls his fingers out and slaps your clit. That’s the final straw though, and your orgasm tears through you. A cry of pleasure falls from your lips. Lucas doesn’t wait for you to recover from the orgasm, and you’re still going through the motions of it when he pushes his cock into your clenching entrance. You keep clenching as he thrusts in, the tightness of your walls around him causing him to hiss as he bottoms out.

“F-Fuck, you’re tight,” he says between gritted teeth. He pulls out all the way, and you brace yourself for a harsh thrust but it doesn’t come. Instead, he slaps the back of your thigh lightly. “Turn over. I want you on all fours.”

You follow the command with shaky and weak muscles; two orgasms are already catching up to you, and both were more intense than you’re used to. You manage to pull yourself up and turn over for Lucas nonetheless. He lines up with your entrance again. One sharp thrust and your arms give out under you. You fall facefirst to the bed with a huff of air leaving your lips, ass still perched high for Lucas to fuck into, and you grip the comforter for dear life as he builds up a ruthless pace. Each thrust feels like a battering ram against your cervix, his thick member stretches you wide open, and the only noises you can make are gasps and moans. Lucas is in a similar predicament; throaty groans escape him with each thrust.

The force of his thrusts never let up even as they begin to stutter. Lucas’ next orgasm is coming quickly, and you’re determined to cum at the same time as him. You snake a hand down your abdomen and find your clit, rubbing small circles against it as Lucas fucks into you with enthusiasm. Your bud is sensitive to the touch from two orgasms, and each rub over it causes a small whine to escape you. You barely even have to move your fingers. With Lucas’ harsh thrusts, he pushes your body forward and causes your clit to rub against the pads of your fingers.

A scream tears through your chest as the blinding white light of a third orgasm crashes over you. Your body goes slack under Lucas’ thrust, muscles quaking and trembling, and pleasure continues to wrack your form as Lucas cums into your tight heat. You moan again at the sensation of his cum filling you up, squeezing around his cock to keep him in you a little while longer.

“You’re sexy when you’re angry,” you huff out, basking in the afterglow of the sex. Lucas’ chest heaves as he musters up a response. He slowly pulls out of you. You clench around nothing, the sensation of emptiness taking over your form.

“Suck a left nut.”

“Only if you ask me to.”

​​​☽     ☾

➻ requested by: @baekhyyun ➻ prompts:

“You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“Suck a left nut.”

special prompt for @parksfilter: “Rail me.”

[jamespotterthefirst]

For Lost Time (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2K Premise: They continue to make up for lost time after their encounter in his car. Set during the events of Book 2, Chapter 12 

Warning: Strong Language and NSFW content. Please use discretion and caution when viewing this work. By viewing of this work, you consent that you are 18+ .

The fog clouding the glass had cleared almost entirely by the time they deemed it time to go inside. They haphazardly replaced their clothes in the small confines of his car, lightheartedly teasing each other until they shared a final kiss. Before their bodies parted, Ethan glanced down at her one more time, unable to keep a joyous smile at bay. The streetlights outside the car cast a golden glow on her as she glanced back at him, eyes alight with happiness, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. 

He couldn't resist the urge to kiss her again. It was one that was all too familiar to Ethan, except this time, there were no obstacles that stopped his lips from moving enthusiastically against hers. 

He groaned as she pushed her body closer to his. 

A mere kiss was all it took for every part of his body to hum with need for her again like a live wire. Lilac must have felt it too because her eyes were darker as they pulled apart, one fingernail coiling playfully around his tie. 

“You should come inside.”

The spike of sheer euphoria that coursed through him at the words almost left him speechless. Ethan, however, still had the words to lean in a whisper the filthiest turn of phrase he could think of. 

It worked because in seconds, they were out of the car, rushing through the rain to go inside her building. They made it to her front door in record speed, especially considering the black high heels she wore. The sleek contraptions did wonders for her legs and he decided then that he wanted them on through every filthy act he was about to perform. 

Unable to resist, his hands found her hips, fingers digging slightly into her dress as he pulled her close. 

“Unlock the door fast,” he murmured hoarsely against her ear. A thrill of satisfaction buzzed through his veins when her hands fumbled with the keys, clearly affected. “Unless you want your neighbors to see me taking you against it.”

Her responding sigh made him grow even harder against her backside, his lips pressing hungry kisses along the column of her neck. Vaguely, he was aware of how desperate he appeared, hands urgently roaming her body, but he found that he didn't care. 

Lilac didn't seem to mind either because as soon as she opened the door, she took his hand without ceremony and guided him straight to her room. 

“Miss my body already?” she teased when he pushed her against the door as soon as it clicked shut.

Ethan almost didn't hear the taunt, busy as he was tugging off her dress and kissing every inch of exposed skin. “Can you blame me? I've been missing it for months.”

As if to drive that point across, she rolled her body against his just like she had in the car less than an hour ago. And just like in his car, their bodies crammed and quivering with need, Ethan groaned. 

“I've been missing yours,” she confessed in a sinful whisper. “You're all I thought about when I touched myself at night.”

A low, guttural curse escaped him, lost against the tops of her breasts. 

“Shhh. My roommates are home so you'll have to be quiet.” There was amusement in her breathless voice. “Think you can manage it, Doctor?” 

Ethan raised his head from where he tugged at her bra with his teeth to raise a quizzical eyebrow. “That sounds more of a challenge for you. I'm not the screamer out of the two of us.”

The heady way in which he whispered it made her hips rock against his involuntarily. 

“I seem to remember otherwise.” The coquettish glint in her eye made him harder still. 

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“One you'll lose, yes.”

What promised to be a signature witty reply was lost in a moan as Ethan moved his lips to her ear and all but growled, “Turn around.”

Despite the bravado, she obeyed at once.

Wasting no time, Ethan firmly took her hips and steered her towards the dresser at the other end of the room, the scent of her hair as intoxicating as the curve of her ass pressing tightly against him.

 Their eyes met through the mirror before them, a questioning look on her pretty face. She no doubt wondered why Ethan had chosen to pin her against a dresser, roughly bending her over to balance on shaking arms. The truth was, he had spent too much time fantasizing about having her on every imaginable surface and he planned to make good on those ideas. 

A bed was decidedly at the bottom of his list of surfaces.

“Ethan,” she moaned when he all but tore her dress off the remainder of the way. 

“Shhh,” he said hotly against her ear, parroting her earlier warning. “It's already not looking good for you and that challenge.”

Before she could reply, he took her knee and hoisted it onto the surface of the dresser, exposing her body to him. The sharp stiletto of one of her black heels dug into his thigh. Lilac let out a small gasp that quickly turned into a soft, wanton cry as his fingers pushed the thin lace of her thong aside and teased at her folds. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing how wet she already was. 

“Only for you.”

A primal satisfaction overtook him at those words. His fingers slid and tapped with expert precision, drawing out the most maddening noises from her. When he used two fingers to tease her entrance, her supporting arms quivered, her body arching deliciously against him. 

“Ethan, please,” she said in a ragged plea. Their previous banter forgotten, he steadied her with one hand and slid two fingers inside her. 

He moved slowly at first, intending to savor the way he could still make her body sing, even after months of being apart. Soon, however, the speed and pressure of his movements increased, mostly at her urging. 

“Fuck, Lilac. You're so—” 

He couldn't finish the husky, senseless thought because Lilac demonstrated exactly what he meant by pulsing tightly around his fingers. Despite foolishly thinking he could exert control over her, Ethan allowed himself to fall at her mercy. 

As her pleasure peaked, she doubled over, her dark hair falling in curtains over her face. With one last cry, she quivered against his movements until she rode out the high. It was lucky the rain slashed loudly against the windows or her roommates would have undoubtedly heard her. 

He gave her a smug smile through the mirror. Lilac, looking flushed and blissful, rolled her eyes lovingly. “I still didn't scream,” she pointed out. 

Ethan took that as another challenge because five minutes later, she was on the verge of doing just that. He had her perched on the dresser, her thighs open to him, her back arching up from the surface. Ethan, on his knees like some kind of supplicant, met her gaze as his devilish tongue lapped at her folds.

“Ethan,” she cried, her hand delving into his hair. The light tug inspired his tongue to enter her, lavishing every hot inch of her body with the attention it deserved. Lilac cursed, writhing her hips desperately against his face. 

“Never get—” She moaned but tried again. “Never get rid of the beard,” she implored in a broken whisper. Ethan almost grinned and replied by taking the swollen nub in between his lips and sucking briefly. 

It was all she needed to climax again. 

“It's not fair.” Lilac hopped off the dresser moments later, legs trembling.

Ethan steadied her with ease, arching a brow. “Not fair? I thought I was being rather generous.”

Lilac pulled at his tie, shaking her head. “It's not fair that you're still fully clothed.”

Ethan laughed, leaning in to kiss her, his lips taunting her in a way that made her groan. Without further preamble, she made quick work of his shirt and tie, both falling in a heap to the floor. A smirk that was all wickedness pulled at her lips when she divested him of the rest of his clothing, the evidence of his arousal smacking against her hip. 

It was Ethan who was at a disadvantage now, fully naked while Lilac was still clad in her bra and panties. In one swift movement, he remedied that problem, using his teeth to slide off the straps of her bra. It was far more than she could take. 

“Fuck me, Ethan,” she pleaded in a heady whisper. 

He complied by swiveling her body around yet again, their eyes finding each other through the mirror . They started at one another with such intensity that Ethan felt his hands tremble against her hip bones. As soon as she bit her lip enticingly, however, he took himself in his hand and teased her entrance until she trembled. 

Soon, every ounce of his self-control had been spent, his body pulsing as desperately as hers. Unable to wait another moment, Ethan pushed himself inside her inch by glorious inch. Buried to the hilt, he pressed his forehead against Lilac's shoulder. 

“You feel so good,” he said hotly against the curve of her shoulder. 

Lilac moaned as he began to move in measure strokes.

She gripped the edges of the dresser as his movements increased speed. With every thrust, the mirror rattled dangerously against the wall. If their mingled cries and moans were not enough to alert her roommates, perhaps the smacking of their bodies would. 

Lilac's body gripped him firmly from all sides, eliciting a dark curse from Ethan. The erotic little way she moaned his name was proving detrimental to his plan of lasting as long as he could. 

“Faster,” she cried. 

His thrusts became shallow and pointed as he obeyed. Ethan watched through the mirror as her body bounced to the rhythm of his movements, her eyes closed blissfully as she raced to her release. 

“God, Ethan,” she cried. “You're so—” Her voice broke off as he drove into her with invigorated zeal, his lustful hand taking a firm grip of her right breast. 

“Finish the thought,” he murmured hotly in her ear. 

“You're—” 

Another calculated thrust and another cry.

“I’m what?”

“You're so big,” she finally managed.

Ethan cursed.

“I’m so close,” she breathed. 

“Good,” he growled.

“Ethan, you’re going to make me—” the last words broke into a series of moans as she finished around him. 

The sounds she made were the last push to his own release. With a guttural groan, he gripped her tightly against him until they both rode off the high. 

When they pulled apart, Lilac dropped into the mattress with a content sigh. Ethan laughed, joining her. 

“I missed that,” she admitted with a grin. 

He watched her expression closely, relieved to see genuine joy there. “Me too,” he said, leaning in to kiss her nose. 

Before either of them could say anything else, her stomach growled loudly. 

“Hungry?” 

She laughed, looking slightly embarrassed. It was almost comical to Ethan as she was currently naked in front of him. 

“Starving. We skipped dinner with all of our…” she trailed off, smiling slightly. “...catching up.”

He chuckled, rather liking the term. If they were making up for lost time they still had a long way to go. “Let's go out and get something.”

“Okay,” she said, perking up. At a brief pause, she wrinkled her nose. “But please, no more bland foods. I can't eat plain white rice again. I will scream.”

At this, he laughed fully, shaking his head. “What are you in the mood then?”

“Tacos,” she said without a thought. Ethan nodded and made to stand up. She reached for his arm, a serious expression on her face. “Real tacos. If you give me this hard-shell, ground-beef nonsense I won't make it, Ethan.”

He scoffed though the effect might have been ruined by the way he grinned. “Of course. Who the hell do you take me for?” 

“A white guy from the east coast?” she said innocently. 

Ethan laughed, having lost count of how many times he had done that in his brief time with her that evening. As his laughter subsided, however, he could feel the tendrils of dread that still lingered starting to take root again. The events of the past few days, seeming a distant memory only moments ago, began to fog his consciousness once more, despite his every effort.

Lilac met his eye, perhaps sensing the serious edge in his demeanor. Without saying anything, she took his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly. 

“We…we will be okay.” The words were directed at him but Ethan suspected she meant them for herself too. 

Ethan glanced at their joined hands and nodded, believing it for the first time in months. 

_______

Author’s Note: I don’t know.

Thank you for reading this! 

Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for your help with this one! 

_______

@openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @aestheticartsx​ |  @silverlitskies​ |  @flyawayboo​ | @paulfwesley​ | @hatescapsicum​ | @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ | @togetherwearerapture​ | @nooruleman​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey​ | @edith-eggs1​| @choices-lurker​ | @jens-diamondchoices​ | @tefigranger​ | @ethanrcmsey​ | @coffeebeandragon​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​| @binny1985​ | @mvalentine​ | @sanchita012​ | @drethanramslay​ | @ramseysno1rookie​ | @takeharryandgo​ | @aworldoffandoms​ | @desmaranj​  | @oofchoices​ | @ethxnrxmsey​ | @octobereighth​ | @kopenheart12 | @lilyvalentine​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​ | @enmchoices​ | @colossalpainintheass​ | @rookie-ramsey​ | @humanpokemon​ | @apphia12​ | @kiara-36​ | @eramsey28​ |  @custaroonie​ | @helloblueeyedcat​ | @dr-ramseys-rookie​ | @thegreentwin​ | @decadentwinnerjudgedream​ | @jeerapp | @doilooklikeiknow​ | @dulceghernandez​ | @starrystarrytrouble​ | @angela8756​ | @maurine07​ | @blossomanarchy​ | @openheartthot​ | @rookieoh​ | @nerdydinosaursweets​​

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @titaniaangel | @adamsdumortain​

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Crown |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.3k

Lesson 7: allies can be found in unlikely places.

Previous: Onyx >> Crown: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Stalemate

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Taglist will be reblogged! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]

Younghoon isn’t lying. The pull of magic only grows stronger as he leads them through winding tunnels, never once braving a reveal on the surface. As wary as Juyeon feels of the Ivory king, he has to admire the sharp ease with which he traverses the underground. Even after so many years in his own palace, he still sometimes needs a guide. Like when he first left.

When they stop, the tug of the stone is so powerful that Juyeon physically has to root himself in place as Younghoon turns around to speak. “There will be two guards in this hallway,” he says lowly. “Somin has them there at all times to watch over the crown jewels. Be ready.”

Juyeon nods, impatient. “Fine.”

“One more thing.” Younghoon doesn’t budge. “Haknyeon leaves now.”

“No.” Juyeon grits his teeth. “Absolutely –”

“I’m unarmed,” Younghoon snaps. “Even if I had a weapon, I’m far less skilled than you at swordplay and you could pin me down in less than a second. And if I remember correctly, you have a mage on your side, and Kevin is a very good shot with a knife.” He fixes Juyeon with his gaze. “If we are caught somehow, Haknyeon cannot be part of this. I can talk my way out of trouble and I have status as king. Somin still needs me, however much she may hate it. But she doesn’t need him nearly as much. He is preferable, but any other citizen could take his place if he... disappeared.”

Which means, if Somin finds Haknyeon with them, he’s dead. Juyeon swallows.

Younghoon’s eyes turn pleading, though a fire burns in them that Juyeon knows he can’t douse. “Haknyeon leaves now.”

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like having to put his trust in a king he barely knows, doesn’t like having to let Haknyeon go and lose half of the leverage he has over Younghoon.

But Younghoon only has concern for his friend. There are no secret messages passing between them, no subtle eye contact or hand movements that Juyeon can decipher. Younghoon’s eyes remain fixed on Juyeon’s. He doesn’t move.

Juyeon nods sharply, turning to Kevin. “Let him go.”

The knife leaves Haknyeon’s neck. He steps forward, almost, but a warning gaze from Younghoon stops him. The servant swallows, looking supremely unhappy with this, but starts backing away in a soft swish of robes. Then he turns around, but only to hand Kevin his lantern. “You’ll need this more than I will,” he says before disappearing into the darkness.

Younghoon’s already pushing open the door by the time Juyeon turns back, peering out for any sign of life. “Two guards,” he whispers. “Take them by surprise.”

Juyeon slips into the hall and lunges.

The guards are too late. They shout, which makes Juyeon wince – great, now people might hear them – but with a clanging of metal and several well-placed hits on the head between him and Kevin, the guards fall to the floor. Jacob nudges them with his feet when he passes by. They don’t stir.

“Hurry,” Younghoon hisses, running down the hall. “People are going to come soon.”

He’s right. As Juyeon sprints after the king, he hears voices beginning to grow in volume. Several cries have just sounded when Younghoon comes to a stop in front of an unassuming wall. “Here.”

Juyeon almost rips Changmin’s insignia off his neck with one hand as he shifts the other over the wall, looking for a groove, a panel, anything to signal a door hidden in the stone. It isn’t exactly the same as the store of jewels at home, but a piece of the wall finally gives way under his touch, producing a small keyhole. He shoves the insignia inside and twists.

For one heart stopping second, nothing happens. Juyeon’s hands are slick with sweat as he grips the tiny gold symbol between his fingers, hoping, praying –

A click sounds. The wall shifts open.

Jacob stumbles inside, followed by Kevin and Younghoon. Juyeon takes one moment to pull the insignia out of the lock before slipping into a room full of gold and gems sparkling in the light of the lamp in Kevin’s hand.

The wall slides shut, cutting off the shouts in the hall behind them. Juyeon gasps for breath, trembling fingers returning the insignia to its rightful place around his neck as he surveys the glittering walls.

His breath catches in his throat.

There, in the middle of the room, stands a glass case. A silver crown, curiously empty of jewels, shines in its depths, lantern light glinting off the metal to illuminate the black stone lying next to it.

That’s his gem.

And that’s his crown.

Jacob places his hands on the case, closing his eyes as they roam over the glass. “Ten spells,” he says.

Younghoon nods. “One for each of her mages.”

Juyeon clenches his jaw. “Can you break them?”

“Yes.” Jacob opens his eyes. “But I need time. Every spell I break will only make the mages aware that someone is tampering. And…” He swallows. “Some will require my fire.”

A stone drops in Juyeon’s stomach. A mage’s fire is sacred. It’s up to Jacob whether or not he can use it – Juyeon doesn’t know enough about magic to make that decision – but if Jacob rules it as desecration…

Kevin steps forward, placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Do what you think is right,” he murmurs.

“And hurry about it,” Younghoon adds, eyebrows furrowed. “They’re coming.”

The urge to snap at the king grows, but he’s right. They’ll be secure in here as long as Somin doesn’t come running with her key, but who knows when that’ll happen? Shouts were sounding when they entered the room – someone will sound the alarm soon if they haven’t already.

Jacob closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Opens them.

He looks at Juyeon and nods sharply. “Give me as much time as you can.”

Juyeon allows a grim smile to cross his face as he unsheathes his sword. “Of course.”

. . . . .

If dousing a fire is like cutting threads, breaking a spell is like snapping branches in half. There’s a delicacy to it, knowing where to place pressure so the wood will split most easily, but a large part of it is brute force as well, much more than when he was choking the life out of Mage Jung’s flame.

Sweat rolls into Jacob’s eyes as the first spell breaks, then the second, and then the third. They were the easiest, the simplest. They required none of his fire.

Heat bubbles beneath his skin as he focuses on the next. His hands weave patterns along the glass case, grabbing tendrils of invisible magic that shimmer slightly in the air, infusing them with the energy that flows out of his veins. A fourth snap, then a fifth.

He’s overheating. Too much magic. Jacob doesn’t need to see the red tint of his skin to feel the uncomfortable warmth beginning to spread through his body, especially not when Kevin hisses just from standing a little too close.

But he’s only halfway through. And as much as his head feels like it’s about to split in half with how much magic his hands have directed into the shimmering spells surrounding the crown, he can’t give up. Not now, not when they’re so damn close.

The sixth spell snaps. Jacob’s throat grows raw with blistering heat. It burns his insides now, painful warmth crawling through his veins with the magic that bursts from his hands. Only unlike the magic, the heat has no way to escape.

Seven. Even with the roaring of blood in his ears, Jacob dimly hears loud yelling outside the room. Eyes blurred with sweat take in Juyeon standing in front of the wall, sword at the ready.

Give me as much time as you can.

There isn’t much left.

His skin might actually be smoking. He can’t tell. Jacob draws on the dredges of magic hidden deep within his blood, sends it flowing out of the tips of his fingers. The eighth spell bends under his onslaught.

But it doesn’t break.

A stone drops in Jacob’s stomach. He’s reached his breaking point. There’s only one way he can complete this job and it means using his fire.

Anxiety wraps around Jacob’s arms, freezing them in place even though no more magic flows.

A mage’s flame is sacred, the rawest form of power they hold. It is the most powerful and most dangerous form of magic possible, which is why there are strict rules regarding its usage. One of the first things a mage in training learns is how to control it.

Control isn’t a problem for Jacob. That came almost as easily as breathing.

Letting it go, however…

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Air warm with the heat of his magic blisters his throat further and he chokes, almost falling against the glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Younghoon look over with concern, but he can’t register it.

Another breath comes in, slightly cooler this time. Jacob steadies himself on shaky feet. He’s only ever let go of his flame once in a situation that wasn’t meant for practice. He can do it, he knows. But is it a desecration of his magic? Will using his fire in this one instance upset the balance of the Board further?

Will he prove himself the same as his former teacher and current traitor to the orders, High Mage Jung?

A loud yell pierces Jacob’s ears, barely muffled by the wall. His head snaps up as Juyeon stiffens by the wall, hand clenched around his sword. Next to him, Kevin readies a blade.

No time.

Jacob closes his eyes. High Mage Jung proved he was unworthy of magic when he used his flame to aid Somin’s agenda. Jacob is not the same. He has used his magic time and time again only to maintain the balance.

Releasing his flame will be no different.

Taking a breath, Jacob unclenches a fist, one he didn’t even know he’d made. He calls on the stirrings in his heart, warmth and pain and power. Even more heat begins to fill his veins.

Slowly, slowly, a tendril of orange fire wisps out of his palm. It curls around a section of the tenuous spell wrapped around the glass case.

Sweat dripping into his eyes, Jacob snaps his fist closed.

The spell breaks.

A tiny, tiny smile makes its way onto Jacob’s lips.

Two more to go.

. . . . .

When a ragged gasp cuts through the uncomfortably warm air, Juyeon’s attention turns from the wall where the door is hidden. Either Jacob has managed to break through all ten spells or he’s failed and they’re all about to be trampled under the feet of Somin’s soldiers.

He whips around just in time to see Jacob shove himself against the crown’s case with the last strength in his limbs. Glass shatters on the ground.

Juyeon lunges, catching the mage before he drops onto a bed of glass shards. They poke through his clothes and Juyeon grits his teeth as a few cut into his flesh, but he manages to lift Jacob up slightly, hands burning against the mage’s skin before he deposits him on empty ground, groaning.

Glass crunches under Kevin’s feet as he scoops up the fallen crown and the onyx jewel. They glitter in the sputtering light of the lantern as he places them in Juyeon’s hands, metal and stone cool against his burning skin.

Disbelief fills Juyeon’s throat as he stares down at the two objects. They’ve done it. They have all the stones and the crown. They have everything they need to put the Juyeon’s crown back together, but it doesn’t feel real.

Queens. They’ve somehow done it. Now they just need to get out.

Easier said than done.

“Jacob.” Juyeon kneels next to the prone mage, whose eyes have just begun to flutter open from when they lay closed before. “Jacob, can you shift us out of here?”

Jacob sits up with a pained grunt and wiggles his fingers slightly. His face is still flushed red with magic overuse, and Juyeon isn’t surprised when his hand falls and he shakes his head. “Can’t get us far,” he croaks. “Not enough magic. Just…” He swallows. “Just have enough to disappear the crown and stone for now. I’ll get them back later.”

Wordlessly, Juyeon hands over the jewels. As Jacob spins them into nothing, he tries to think of other options. There are no tunnels in this room, no way to escape unnoticed. If they leave, a group of guards stands ready outside to cut them all down. There’s no option other than to wait for Jacob to recover enough to shift them out, but that requires time.

Time they might not have, if Somin comes rushing in with her own key.

“Use me as a hostage.”

Juyeon turns to Younghoon, eyebrows furrowed. “What –”

“Use me as a hostage,” he repeats. “If you say that you’ll kill me the second anyone tries anything, they won’t have a choice but to let you go. Soldiers won’t risk hurting their king.” His jaw clenches. “You know that.”

He does. He knows it very well. Knights are loyal to their kingdom – it’s part of their training and an aspect that the orders evaluate when deciding to ordain a new soldier. But –

“What if Somin comes?”

The ghost of a dispassionate smirk flits across Younghoon’s face. “She needs me more than she likes to pretend,” he says. “If you play your pieces right, she won’t do anything, either.”

It might work. It just might work. If they can get to the tunnel, if enough of Jacob’s magic has returned to shift them away (or, at the very least, he has the strength to run), they might be able to make it out. Juyeon turns to the mage, who’s being forced into drinking water by a belligerently caring Kevin. “Jacob, can you stand? How long will it take your magic to return?”

Some of the red flush has faded from Jacob’s face, which is promising. When Kevin helps him up, he still leans most of his weight on his cousin, but he looks marginally better as he steps carefully around shattered glass. “Give or take some minutes,” he rasps. “I’m not sure.”

Not the answer Juyeon would like, but he doesn’t have a lot of options left. It’ll have to be enough.

Wordlessly, Kevin hands over a knife. Juyeon twirls it around in his fingers, raising an eyebrow at Younghoon. “All right then.” He grabs the king, placing the blade under his chin. “Let’s go, hostage.”

. . . . .

Juyeon fends off exactly one soldier after Kevin slides the door open. They’re extraordinarily well-trained, he muses, staring into the throng. Not a single one moves a muscle once it becomes clear their king is at Juyeon’s mercy.

“I have your king,” he says coldly. His voice doesn’t betray the shake of his fingers as he keeps the knife pressed against Younghoon’s neck. “If one of you so much as touches any of us, I will have him killed.”

One of them, obviously the woman in charge, grits her teeth. For a moment, she stares back at Juyeon, ivory uniform a contrast to his black clothes stained with blood. Will he have to fight?

Then she lowers her sword. Steps aside.

Juyeon walks forward in the silence, knife clenched between white knuckles. Two sets of footsteps and soft gasps for breath reassure him that Kevin and Jacob aren’t far behind. Younghoon walks carefully, slowly, as Juyeon’s arm pins him to his side.

They make it to the end of the hall. Juyeon turns, heading for the tunnel.

And comes face to face with the woman he’d hoped to leave behind at the sword fighting arena.

Feral anger flashes in Somin’s eyes, even as her lips curve into a sweet smile. “So nice to see you here, Juyeon.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Juyeon replies, unconsciously pressing the blade a little further into Younghoon’s neck. “Would you be so kind as to let us pass?”

A sliver of sharp metal glints in Somin’s hand, twisting and twirling between deft fingers. “I’m afraid my answer is no.” She grins. “Though perhaps you’d be so kind as to stay still while I kill you on my palace floors.”

Juyeon scoffs. “Your palace floors,” he mocks. “You say that as if you didn’t order your family killed and aren’t controlling every person around you with someone they love.”

“Finders keepers,” Somin sings, stepping closer. “I fought my way to the throne and the Board ordained me. You, on the other hand…” Her gaze shifts to the side, eyes turning sharp and flinty. “You aren’t king just yet, are you?”

“Maybe not.” Juyeon allows a barbed smile to spread across his face, infusing it with every bit of loathing he’s ever felt for Somin. “But you won’t have your own king much longer if you don’t step aside.”

She sneers. “Why do I need a king? Can’t a queen rule on her own, with or without a useless king by her side?” She leans forward, white skirts swishing ominously against the ground. “If you hadn’t noticed, I am creating a new country, one united across the Board. Who says I need a king in this new world, hm?”

“You destroyed any chance at unity when you stole my crown,” Juyeon snarls. “My people will remember your actions, regardless of whether or not I live.”

Somin waves an infuriating hand. “What does that matter when I will crush them where they stand?” She steps forward again. “And speaking of the crown…” Her smile disappears, replaced with barely-repressed fury. “Where is it?”

A real spark of satisfaction races up Juyeon’s spine. His own grin isn’t faked anymore. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You will tell me,” she snarls, raising her knife. “You will tell me, or you can say goodbye to your life right here and now.”

“Touch me and Younghoon gets it too.” Juyeon tightens his grasp on the king, who doesn’t even so much as twitch a muscle. He has to admire his ability to remain calm. “I thought you were smart enough to know this?”

“What part of I don’t need a king do you not understand –”

Younghoon’s voice cuts through Somin’s tirade. “Liar.”

The hallway falls silent. Even Somin stops speaking.

“Liar,” he repeats, an ease in his one word that belies the knife pressed under his chin. “You need me, Somin. You know you do.”

“Oh, really?” Somin laughs, wild, nearly hysterical. “Really, Younghoon? You want to tell me that I need you when you are about as useless as a fly stuck on the wall?”

“This fly on the wall is half the reason your popularity among the common pawns hasn’t fallen to the negatives,” Younghoon snaps. “If you didn’t need me at all, why would you threaten me with Haknyeon? Why would you even bother to make a pretense of keeping me under control if you truly had no use for me?” His smile turns sharp, grim. “You need a king, whether you like it or not. Not simply because you are a queen and it is tradition. You need me because you are an unpopular queen who cannot inspire loyalty among her own people. I dare say that Juyeon’s sister might not need a king by her side, but of course, you are no Jisoo.” He smiles. “You are not your sibling, either.”

Juyeon almost wants to clap. He settles for loosening his grip on Younghoon’s arm. Behind him, he hears Kevin whispering a very low “wow” under his breath.

Somin snarls, an ugly flush rising in her cheeks. “If you don’t stop speaking right now, I will –”

“What will you do?” Younghoon interrupts. “Kill him? Haknyeon?”

Dead silence reigns.

“You won’t.” A sharp smile flashes on Younghoon’s face. “Kill him and you lose your only leverage over me. Kill him and you have no other way to control me. There is no one left that I love, not friends, not family. Choosing a citizen at random for execution would lower your popularity even more, and most of them would not believe it if you told them it was under my orders. They know me better and like me better.” An empty smirk crosses his lips. “I believe we are at a stalemate, Your Majesty.”

There’s no warning before the knife goes flying through the air. Only the raising of Somin’s hand, a flash of silver, Juyeon’s eyes widening as it whips past him and towards his friends –

A clang of metal sounds, and Somin’s blade falls to the floor. Juyeon looks back just slightly to see Kevin holding a knife of his own, a trickle of blood running down his hand. “You’ll have to be faster than that,” he says, the curve of his lips mimicking the blade between his fingers.

Somin’s chest heaves. Juyeon smiles. “So will you let us pass?” he asks sweetly, ingraining his words with as much artificial sugar as he can muster. “Your Most Excellent Majesty?”

Silence. A low sound of feral anger.

Then she steps aside.

. . . . .

It takes long, too long to walk down the two halls left to get to the tunnel Younghoon took them through the first time. Especially with Somin’s eyes following every step they take.

But they finally descend into darkness, Juyeon removing the knife from Younghoon’s neck to slam the door shut behind them.

Shouts immediately sound as soon as the tunnel descends into darkness. Footsteps pound outside and Juyeon holds tight to the handle, keeping it shut as Jacob shakily crafts a new door in thin air. Five heart-stopping seconds pass before it’s finished and even then it doesn’t look too stable, parts of the wood frame flickering in and out of existence, but finally Kevin’s holding the door open for Jacob and they’re both stepping to the other side.

“Go,” Younghoon says, taking the handle from Juyeon even as the door begins to shake with the force of those pounding on it. “You need to leave.”

Juyeon nods, stepping towards the door still set in air. Then he turns back. “You could come with us.”

A flash of hope flits across Younghoon’s face, but it leaves as soon as it appears. “No.” He shakes his head. “I would only be a hindrance. I can’t fight very well, and I have no magic. Besides, I have people to protect here. Haknyeon. My kingdom. At least with my status, I can try to minimize some of the damage Somin causes.”

If Juyeon was in the same position as Younghoon, he’d probably do the same. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to take the Ivory king with them, though, if only to have another person safely out of Somin’s clutches. But he nods. “You’re a good king, Younghoon.”

Younghoon smiles. “I hope to say the same thing to you soon, Juyeon, when you are no longer a prince.” His expression turns grim. “Now go. Don’t waste any more time.”

Juyeon steps through the open door with relief and terror shuddering through his veins. The door shimmers into nothing the second he topples onto green grass barely visible in the early morning light.

“Queens,” he mutters, rolling over to face the sky. “Queens.”

Kevin groans next to him. “You can say that again.”

A small swish sounds in the air, and then something tumbles to the ground with a clang. Juyeon sits up, barely in time to catch the crown and onyx stone before they roll past him.

Jacob pulls himself half up. His skin still radiates heat, even this long after he finished breaking the spells, but his eyes look clearer than when they left. “We did it.” He coughs. “We have everything.”

They do. They have the crown and all five stones, four sewn into Jacob’s cloak, the last in Juyeon’s hand. After months of no sleep, pain, death, and endless running, they have everything they need to put Juyeon’s crown back together.

He can barely believe it.

“Do you have the energy to fuse the gems back?” Kevin asks, looking at Jacob with concern obvious even in the dark.

The mage shakes his head, coughing again. “Not now,” he replies. “I need… we need to get somewhere we can rest. Putting the jewels back might require more magic than I even have. There’s a reason Somin had to get the most powerful mages on her side to dismantle it.”

“That’s fine,” Juyeon says. “As long as you can shift us back, Taemin and Sunmi and some of the other mages will be able to help us. We’ll take short trips so you aren’t too drained, Jacob.” He smiles, really smiles. “We have a bit more time, now.”

Jacob returns the smile, sitting up with Kevin’s help. “We do,” he says, the sparkle in his eyes radiating real joy for the first time since he found them back in the woods so many months ago. “We do.”

For a moment, they all sit in silence, sleepily resting under the early morning light. Then Kevin stirs. “We should move,” he reminds them, smile disappearing slightly. “Put as much distance between us and the palace before we actually take a rest.”

“Right.” Jacob stands shakily, hands poised to form a new door. “Where to?”

“As far as you think your magic can hold,” Juyeon says. “We’ll take it from there.”

A door appears, shimmering white on the bed of grass. The pristine handle looks out of place in his bloody, grimy hands, fingers stained red and black, but the sight doesn’t bring Juyeon as much revulsion as it might have before. Because this time, the door doesn’t signal another leg of the journey. It doesn’t represent escape, doesn’t mean they’re running away.

Juyeon turns the handle, smiling a smile so wide it almost hurts.

It’s time to go home.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for everything to go right for once)

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 2

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she’d been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Chapter 2 - Consciousness

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: mentions of blood and broken bones, medical procedures

Read on AO3

~

It was the light of morning that caused my eyes to flutter open, the hardness of the tiled floor beneath slowly recognised in an increasing ache pulsing through my body.

I was slow to move, measured actions helping to bring myself into a seated position, arms shakily holding me up at the sides. Memories of the previous evening flooded back in swift succession, along with the pain of immense fatigue that always followed the act of letting the Force do my healing for me.

Did it even work?

My hand gripped the hospital bed that his body remained slumped on and I pulled myself upwards, feet gliding along the ground under my legs until I could stand. The scene before me was still shocking, even in remembering all that happened. Eventually, I noted the even breaths seeping in and out of the pilot’s chest.

He survived the night. Well done.

The numbers on the monitor confirmed what the voice had said. Heart rate steady. Oxygen levels optimum. Blood pressure higher than it had ever reached the night before. Looking over the battered and broken man, covered in dried blood that had spilled to the bed and floor, I felt a rush of emotion break free from its cage in my chest, unleashing an irrepressible urge to cry.

I sobbed quietly, knowing it was both relief and exhaustion that the tears crawled down my face. I wasn’t really sure why it hit me so hard. I didn’t even know this man, and somehow his survival at my hands was overwhelming, bursting at the seams with a happiness I’d never experienced for a patient before.

But then I recalled what I’d done to make it possible.

Fear struck like a spark in the centre of my chest, rippling its way through my veins.

There’s no way I could explain this as a simple act of medical miracle. He’d know. Then they’d know. And everything I’d built would come crumbling down. I’d have to find a new planet, a new home, build a new clinic, leaving everything behind.

I just wanted to heal people. I didn’t want to be a part of either of their worlds, and I didn’t want to d-

A croaky moan escaped from the pilot’s lips, his eyes moving underneath the lids, struggling to open. He groaned louder, and it became clear all too quickly he was starting to feel his extensive injuries. Panic set in, realising I hadn’t had time to give him any anaesthetic or pain relief.

This was going to be a rough wake up.

A piercing whimper bellowed from his chest, startling me into focus. With the trolley at hand I wrenched open the draws in search of anything with a pain-relieving quality and prepared the med-injector with heavy fluid. He’d already started to move his limbs, presumably in a way to understand what was happening, and another strained yell echoed in the room, sending a shiver rocketing down my spine. I jammed the needle into the IV cannula port, pushing in the medicine without much of a thought to appropriate dosage.

I just needed to stop him moving.

He began hollering even harder, tears welling in his eyes as he started to thrash against the mattress. Snatching at his wrists, I slammed them back down on the bed.

“It’s okay! You’re okay! I know it hurts but you’ve got to give the painkiller time to work. I promise it’s going to be alright!” 

His eyes flew open, an obvious distress burning from behind brown irises. They flickered over my blood-stained clothes, then locked into mine, pleading, begging for me to do something to take away the agony.

“I know,” I said softly, a more tender edge to my voice. “I know it hurts. I’m doing all that I can. Please just stay still. It will get better. Please.”

The pilot drew in a deep, haggard breath, his bottom lip trembling. Eventually his jaw clenched as our eyes remained fixed, a silent pact of trust hanging in the air. It took me by surprise, how easy it was to calm him, and I seized the chance to soothe him even further.

“My name is Alex, I’m a doctor,” I explained. “Your ship crashed just outside my clinic. You were hurt, badly. You fell unconscious and I brought you in here to treat your injuries.”

Such a simple explanation for the truly gargantuan effort I had performed.

I wonder if he’ll ever know how close to death he was.

It wasn’t the time to tell him now, not when he seemed so scared. There was some semblance of understanding in his features, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, only for his eyes to shut again as he withheld a pained cry. I released my grip from his right wrist, placing my hand in his to squeeze gently. An act of sympathy, something I had done many times for people in distress. Even the small movement was enough to make him yelp.

Kriff. I forgot his arm was broken.

“Sorry!” I squeaked. He was still wincing. “Let me try and fix that.”

It was obvious how wrong the angle appeared in his forearm, beginning to prepare more local anaesthetic into the injector handle. I shot the needle a few centimetres above the fracture, the pilot barely flinching. Compared to the rest of his injuries it would likely have felt like nothing at all.

“I need to set this okay? Your arm is going to feel numb in a minute or two. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

His nod was measured, careful not to move anymore than he had to. I left him for a moment to find my universal cast and a sling, giving the injection a few moments to filter through his tissue and into the nerves. When I returned I could see some of the pain medication had already started to take hold, the sting of discomfort in his eyes beginning to waver, his muscles losing their tension and relaxing ever so slightly into the mattress. I prepared the cast, cutting the shapes out for his fingers and thumb, getting it ready for quick application.

“Poe,” he said slowly, his voice croaky and filled with restraint. “My name is Poe.”

I met his gaze again, trying my hardest to put forward an aura of confidence, even in my exhaustion. “Nice to meet you, Poe,” I smiled. With a lightened touch, a finger trailed softly down his right forearm. “Can you feel this?”

“A little,” he whispered. It was clearly hard for him to find his voice again. “It’s kind of… fuzzy.”

“Do you think I could try and set your arm now? I can wait if you prefer.”

“I can handle it.”

Underneath his lips I could imagine gritted teeth, clenching hard, bracing for the pain. It occurred to me then maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d broken a bone.

Without another word I pulled the X-ray unit’s arm up towards his fracture site, hoping he didn’t notice the splashes of his blood smattering the machine. Pressing down on the image button revealed a better picture in comparison to the absolute mess his femur had been. Only his radius was broken, in an even line, no splintering to be seen.

Finally something easy.

With two hands around his arm on either side of the fracture, I poised myself for a quick pull and twist. Poe’s muscles tensed underneath my grip.

“Just try to relax, it will make it much easier,” I insisted.

He drew in a deep breath, and the tension released from underneath my fingertips. I’d learned in my experience not to tell patients exactly when I was going to perform something painful. Something about the surprise of it somehow made it hurt less. So with one fluid movement I pulled and rotated the bone back into place, knowing even before I shot the X-ray it would be aligned. Poe was crushing his eyelids closed, waiting for me to move again.

“It’s okay, I got it.”

His eyes opened, meeting me with a look of surprise. I’d already begun to position the cast, bending the malleable plastic to the contours of his limb.

“First try?” he marvelled. I nodded, while trying to rein in my ego. “Never had someone get it on the first try.”

I swallowed hard. “I, uh... I wasn’t so lucky with your femur.” I flicked through the previous X-rays, pointing to the multiple shots of my attempts to fix the break. His eyes widened, mouth in a small ‘o’.

“That was my leg?” he gasped, “And you put it back?”

Both of our eyes glanced to the wound on his thigh. It was closed.

But I didn’t put any bacta on it.

Poe’s disbelief distracted him from my own. What I’d done last night with my crude attempt at Force healing had managed to not only mend the life-threatening severing of his artery, but also somehow pulsed enough energy to knit his wound back together, leaving a sealed laceration where the deep hole had been. Dread filled me again, weighing down so forcefully I didn’t want to move.

How am I going to explain this?

“T-thank you. For getting the bacta into it so quickly. Must have some good quality stuff.”

Thank every particle in the universe. He suspected nothing.

I moved slightly to position myself in front of the trolley that stored evidence of the low quality bacta solution and salve I had used for his chest wound and burns, and feigned a smile of appreciation.

“Just doing my job.”

All of a sudden it seemed to hit him, the situation he was in. His questions came out in rapid fire, desperate for clarification.

“Wait, where am I? What happened to my ship? Where’s BB-8?”

He began to rise from the mattress, wincing at the many injury points as he pulled himself into an upright position on the bed. The quick movement evidently made him dizzy, as he pulled his newly casted arm onto the bed railing to stabilise a wobble.

“Woah, just hold on a minute there,” I snipped, doctor mode engaged. “You’ve still got some serious injuries that need time to heal. Nasty burns, a collection of broken bones and the remnants of a punctured lung. Now bacta can be a miracle cure but it still needs more time before you start moving around again, or you’re going to ruin all the progress I made.”

Poe looked as if he was going to argue, but as my eyes bore into his, he recoiled back into the bed, sighing from both the pain of movement and the lack of answers.

“I was in the middle of an important mission okay?” he stressed. “There are people who are waiting on me. I need to get a message back to the Resistance. To tell them I’m out of commission.”

I tensed. The thought of the Resistance coming here to pick up their injured pilot was enough to make my heart beat faster. Sure, maybe Poe didn’t suspect anything, but the likelihood of convincing force sensitive people like Leia Organa, or the scavenger girl….

Attempting to fool them into thinking I’d healed this man with a bit of brute force and bacta would be near on impossible. But I couldn’t prevent Poe from contacting anybody without arousing even more suspicion. I’d just have to go along with whatever he wanted until I could formulate some kind of plan.

“Alright, how about I get you my transmitter and you promise not to try and move until I say so?” I offered, the tone in my voice not really implying that no could be an appropriate answer.

“Sure thing doc,” he agreed.

Maker, I hate when people call me that.

I made my way over to my tech station, using the moment to give him a couple of the answers he’d been so desperate for. “You’re on a remote clinic on Raxus, about 3000 kilometres- uh… klicks, from Raxulon. Your ship… Well, I haven’t been outside since it exploded at my front door. And your droid unit… I haven’t seen.” I realised quickly how insensitive this information came out when I looked up from my rummaging to Poe’s horrified expression. He began to sit upwards again, giving even less care to his wounds, forcing me to rush back to stop him. “I haven’t checked outside yet!”

“Why haven’t you been out there?” he demanded, eyes flaming.

“Maybe because I was stuck in here saving your life? And how was I supposed to know you had an astromech droid with you?”

He huffed, seeing the logic in my question. “Can you please check if BB is okay?”

I raised an eyebrow, curious at how much emotion he was committing to this piece of equipment. All of the medical droids I’d come into contact with over the years were extremely flat personality wise. Intelligent and useful, but I’d never grown any type of attachment to them. Nothing like Poe seemed to have with this BB-8 droid.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll go look for the BB unit. Just please stay in bed. And… prepare for the worst.”

Underpromise, overdeliver. One of the many phrases I’d recited during my medical training. I just really hoped the latter would be the case in this situation.

The latch of the clinic door closed softly behind me, the crisp morning atmosphere somewhat refreshing for a moment or two, until I shook myself into focus to assess the completely destroyed X-wing ship consuming my vision. With sunshine finally illuminating the environment, rolling green hills of the countryside extending beyond the horizon, I scanned the blackened metal skeleton of the ship, ashes smattered all over the ground, glass and electrical wires splayed everywhere.

Well, this doesn’t exactly ignite hope.

Walking around what was left of the X-wing, I examined the surrounding area for any trace of a droid - not just the shine of metal, but the possible tracks left by a robot who was looking for its master. I walked slowly into the field behind the crash site, my eyes surveying every bit of ground, hoping to see any metallic glint that might indicate an intact droid.

Since the clinic was the only building for a few kilometres, there was hardly another structure it could be hiding behind, or lodged in. I almost wanted to keep walking, washing my hands of all of this, so I didn’t have to go back and tell Poe his obviously beloved droid hadn’t survived like he did. But another ruined machine caught my attention.

My comm-tower was flattened into nothing - steel, wiring and black plastic flattened into an artificial pancake.

Kriff, more bad news for Poe.

With my only means of communication squished there was no way any of my tech could send a signal far enough to reach the Resistance, let alone the next village over. And now I would have to make the weeklong trek back to Raxulon to get another one.

This day is kicking my ass.

With a long sigh, I ventured towards the ruined X-wing, assuming if I hadn’t found BB-8 by now, it must have been pulverised by the explosion I narrowly avoided last night. I searched the hollow structure of the ship, hoping for any scrap of metal that could be related to the droid, but it was all so black, covered in soot and melted, everything beginning to mutate into some other portion of the machine. When I skimmed over what was left of one of the wings, there was still a rounded hole I assumed BB-8 would have been housed during flights. An empty hole. There was always a possibility the BB droid could have gone searching for help beyond my clinic, but again, there wasn't a trace of movement in the dirt track leading away to the nearest village.

I think it’s time to be the bearer of bad news.

I extricated myself from the mangled ship, looking back towards the front walls of my clinic, noticing now the remnants of the explosion that had left countless dark stains over the light blue paint, along with a few cracks and impact points where metal had hit the cement. The bushes I’d planted a few months ago in time for this planet’s version of spring had been scorched, most of the green overtaken by grey and black soot. On closer inspection, it became obvious one had been split in half, the edges of leaves opening up to a large gap.

I quickened my pace and kneeled in front of the jumbled shrub, my hands diving in to push burnt leaves out of way, finally discovering a large metal ball of orange and white leaning on the blue concrete wall. A little cracked and dirty, but seemingly intact.

Oh wait, where’s the head?

Scurrying around on my hands and knees, I felt around the bushes once more, moving along the line of the wall. The twigs were scraping against the skin of my arms, but I was too excited for the possibility of some good news that I ignored the sting they caused.

Unexpectedly my hand struck something hard, pushing the stiff lower branches out of my view to find a domed head dug into the ground. Picking it up, I brushed away some of the dirt, surveying for any obvious damage. Its antennae was crooked, a few deep scratches slicing the metal, but it all seemed fairly superficial. With the head in hand, I strode back to the body unit, beaming with the thought I could ease even a little bit of Poe’s worry.

My delight was swiftly dissolved when setting the pieces together. I’d assumed the magnet would hold and the droid would spring back to life. Instead, the head slipped straight off, sinking into the ground once more with a muffled thud.

Yeah, that seems about right.

*

“I have good news and bad news,” I declared sheepishly as I walked into view of Poe, lugging in a separated BB-8. His face burst into an illustration of relief, then confusion as his brain finally registered the image of his dear friend separated into two pieces, and lifeless.

As I placed the metal components onto the hospital bed at the side of Poe’s leg, he looked up at me. “This is the bad news right?” His hands tentatively checked over the BB unit, attempting what I had done not minutes ago, and watched the head piece slide back over the metal ball and dive into the mattress.

“Um… Actually… This was meant to be the good news,” I grimaced. “The bad news is that my comm-tower was completely flattened by your ship. None of my transmitter tech is going to be able to send out any messages until I can get another one built.”

Poe’s jaw clenched, and I only noticed now the dark stubble that glittered the lower half of his face.

“And when would that be exactly?” he queried sharply. I didn’t like the tone of his voice.

“At least another week if I left now. But I can’t leave you like this, you’re still in critical condition.”

It was obvious he was hiding his frustration, hands scrunched into balls. “They can’t wait that long.”

I scrambled at any answer that might settle him. “I mean, maybe some of the villagers could help, but there’s no guarantee-”

“Then get them to help!” he exploded, making me step back. At seeing the startled look on my face he softened, realising the severity of his demand. “I’m sorry, but this is just… so important. I know you’ve already done more than I could have ever asked of someone, but I still need more of your help. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.” His eyes glistened with hope, a silent plea, sending a cold wave of unease down my spine. He held a bandaged arm out, hand open, reaching toward me.

I didn’t want to be a part of this. It was exactly what I had run from for so long. Even now the immediate urge was to bolt out the front door, leaving behind this stranger who could unravel everything I’d built.

But there was something about the expression on his face, the desperation in his eyes, calling out to me. I was all he had right now. I was his only lifeline to put him back on whatever journey he had been travelling before fate made him, quite literally, crash into me.

“I mean, if the fate of the galaxy depends on it…” I mumbled, placing my hand tentatively in his. “Okay. I’ll help you get back home.”

~

Next Chapter

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[ficsnroses]

Prompt Fic #25

Prompt[s] : “holding their hands when they are shaking” & “lightly kissing the top of a freshly formed bruise”. 

Summary : When John comes home bruised and shaken, you help calm him down and soothe him, despite his efforts in keeping you from seeing him this way. 

Warnings : fluff! mentions of blood.

Word Count : 1.6K. requested by some of my favourite ladies, @omg-imagine​ & @ meetmeinthematinee 🖤 I combined two requests as they were quite similar!

It’s a quiet night in the house, the trees out the bedroom window shade in large silhouettes, the gentle hum of the evening breeze purrs at the glass frames. John hadn’t made it home yet, leaving you discontent and worrisome. Each time John left for a job, you’d sense the seams of your heart tear, as if part of you would leave with him, desperately hoping he’d bring it back-

that he’d be back.

John is efficient, frighteningly capable in his field; yet the thought of him, alone and fighting, murder wringing his fingertips, left you less than at ease. The wallowing dark outside threatens to fall deeper, the pitch, shadowy dim a mirror to your qualms. Sucking in a deep inhale, you feel your temple pulse with a shivering ache, John’s wellbeing never parting your thoughts. Dog sits at your feet, head of his matted gray suit fur tucked under his paws, silently glooming the hallow of the room. He felt it as well; he missed John each second he was away from you both, too.

“Up, boy.” You sweetly coo, patting the vacant spot beside you on the edge of the silken bedsheets. When a yearning whine escapes his mouth and his tail ceases to wag, your hand rakes through his coat, gentle assurance coated, knit into to your touch. “I know, baby. I miss him too.”

Just as a dull & empty exhale emits your breath, the mild turn of the bedroom door catches your ears in a perk, heart springing well known, that John had finally made it back. Yet, as you catch the first glimpse of his weary boned frame, cautious of a slight limp on his left leg, your heart tumbles into a trench again; tears forming before the remains of your mind had even registered the scene.

John shuts the door behind, and with his thin lips offers you a small smile, dreadfully endeavouring to hide his wilted stance. A slash, gushed of mahogany red clears to the left of his pec, the slice in his suit coat and dress shirt frighteningly nerve-wracking. “Hey, sweetheart.” He offers, a rasp to the tip of his tone. To the look of terror shading your eyes, he draws closer. “I’m alright.” A white lie, covered by a searing wince. “Nothing some sleep can’t fix.”

In disbelief, you bite back a whimper to the sight of him, bruised and battered in front of you, yet his vanity proves strong, striving firm to keep himself presentable to you; to make you not worry.

If anything, John wants you to never worry about him. She doesn’t deserve this, he thinks to himself, doesn’t deserve to wrangle over his misfortune, wallow in the sin that is his life. She’s better than that. She’s more than that.

Yet, in the midst of the endurance, John often forgets, that he too, hurts.

John hurts; a never-ending scald left to perverse through each vein of his frail body. John bleeds, John bleeds plenty. But for you, he shields it. He keeps that part of him shielded away, in hopes that you’re never left to fend in his calamities.

Nevertheless, John often also forgets the headstrong of your nature. You’re compassionate, and for John, you’d face any ruin. Hold his hand each step of the way.

With your movement slow, calm and collected, you fight back the scorch of tears that threatens the gleamed corners of your eyes, a gentle hand placed to his shoulder, with your other finding place to the small of his back as you guide him to your shared bed. Eyes holding a desperate weep break back, you divert all the negative reveries that capture at your mind, blinking away each cynic thought of harm to your John.

With your hands holding a slight quiver, you fight back the urge to hold him right then and there, stipple each inch of his face with loving kisses, assuring him that you’d nurse him back to health from any length. But right now, in this moment, you needed to be swift – tend to his injuries before any nasty taints made home.

“Y/N, I’m fine.” John argues, gentle movements, heaviness of his palms pushing your hands away as you try to strip him of his suit jacket. Through half attempted gestures to shield you away, prevent you from seeing this part of him, John utters a little louder than intended, the tense to his forehead carving lines of distress to already dreary features. “Y/N, stop. I’m fine.”

Fingers unsteady through a tremble, you reach your breaking point, astonished at his dominance to keep you away. “John!” You yell, connecting your eyes with his much deeper, burnt sienna returns.

He looks fearful.

You see right through him.

“John, please let me help you. Please.” You empathize, watching his coffee gaze falter, complete, utter sadness to his soft features. “I need this. I need to help you.” His shoulders barely fall, weary frame crumbling in front of you, defeat evident in his collected measure. Your eyes move down, tracing his hands that rest on his lap, shaking, trembling.

“Baby,” You allow to fall off your lips, your own eyes softening with hurt. “Your hands are shaking.” Whispering, your gentle hands move to hold his, secure, in a firm grasp. You bundle his bruised knuckles, thumbs gently grazing the calloused skin of his touch. “You don’t have to hide it from me, John. I’m going to be here with you, each step of the way. But you need to let me in. You need to trust that I’ll be okay.” you contend, words assertive, yet holding a delicate care. He merely nods, refusing to meet your eyes.

He’s ashamed that this, is how you have to see him.

Gently soothed to the skin of his shaking hands, your smaller, softer ones trace inch by inch, his palms, his wrists, his fingers. You often hold John’s hands, ensure he remembers the feeling of being touched with love, with adoration. With fondness, and care.

You never let him forget the feeling of being touched. Something so simple, yet so impactful, delicate for a man who hadn’t known the power of human touch, until he met his one person. You.

Stroking softly, you sit with him, skin touching delicately as you offer a firm, yet uniquely assuring hold to his hands, carelessly peppering in a few gentle, subtle kisses to his knuckles as you please. Eventually, John’s shaking nerves calm enough for you to remove his suit jacket off his arms, buttons of his dress shirt undone in your fingers. He watches you intent, gaze downcast in infamy. Dark eyes hold pools of regret, a river of gloom, shame.

Noticing his plight, you dot a kiss to his beard coupled cheek, lips staying put a tender moment longer to remind him that you’re there. “Baby, it’s just me.” You assure him, his cheek cupped in your hand. “I want to be here for you.” Promising, you peck a small kiss to his lips, offering him a gentle smile.

As you peel off his shirt, a small, yet fairly audible gasp enticed your lips, and much to your attempts at the opposite, your expression falls stoic; before reverting to a frown. He lingers there slightly, shivering, looks soft and hesitant. Ashamed that this is what he has to offer; bruises. Cuts. Impurities. This is all he felt, all he was.

A reminder of the dark that won’t let him go.

John’s chest is peppered in bruises, a delicate mix of deep black and purple hues adorned on his skin. The freshly formed cut of today’s job falls small, much to your joy. He won’t need stitches, thankfully. Yet the thought of the pain he must be feeling pricks tears at your eyes, as you fight back a sob. With a knowing sigh, John’s orbs cease, lowering his gaze yet again.

He didn’t want you to see him. Not like this.

“Does it hurt?” You bite back a flow of tears, index finger so softly, so gently smoothing over a bruise to his pec. John’s head returns a gentle response of ‘no’, taking hold of your hand now, executing his best attempts at biting away all traces of pain to his features, for you. “Not at all, sweetheart.” His hoarse voice promises. You chuckle lightly at your own question, suddenly feeling silly.

Of course it hurts. He’s been cut, beaten to shreds.

Gently, your fingers smooth over a fresh bruise, intently glossing your eyes over the shaded discoloration, reverting your curious orbs to his when he lets out an exhale of contentment. He sighs, melting further into the touch of you skin. John loves your touch dearly; his favourite antidote. You move in slowly, full, rosy lips brushed against the deep mauve bruises on his chest, each kiss filled to the brim with love, all the love he deserved,

Whether he’d acknowledge it or not.

Your hands stay held to his, and you feel him relax into your touch, earthy orbs drifting shut to the feel of you against him. You move deliberate, leisurely, making sure to softly drench each bruise with pure love for him, let him know you’re here, with him, in this moment, and you’d be always. As long as the skies allowed.

Finally, you bring his hands up to your lips, planting small kisses to his palms, voice soft and comforting into the evening light. “Let me help wash you up first, then I’ll bandage you up, alright?” you ease, cupping his bearded cheek again. He nods, placing his rough palm over yours that rests on his face, as he pulls you in to his chest, ignoring the slight buzz of pain it brought to the bruises.

To feel you close, he’d endure any pain.

His embrace was a cocoon of security, shelter and love, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Tonight had been a milestone in your relationship, and John felt closer to you now, than ever. Found himself deeper fallen in your wholeness than before; if even possible. Tonight, John felt sure. And he knew, without doubt,

You were it for him.

With the hum of his chest a gentle reverberation to your skin, you hear his voice as he strokes gentle soothes up and down your back, mindless kisses placed to your hair as you hold him, sure to avoid his wounds. And though, John was a man of few words, there were three he’d never falter to express to you, three you’d hear until the breath in his lungs would cease. “I love you.”

[inkformyblood]

Welcome To The Storm

JangObi Week 2021 Prompt #3 Undercover

Obi-Wan fought the urge to tug at the edge of his shirt yet again, feeling as if the fabric was out of alignment somehow. He hadn’t realised how much he would miss the comforting weight of his Jedi robes — the fabric well-worn and soft as it passed through hundreds of hands before his — until it was gone. He still wrapped his fingers around the woven leather bands around his wrists, the action clear now he lacked the security of his heavy sleeves. 

The entire outfit was new to him: a tight dark undershirt similar enough to the blacks he wore when armour was needed that it wasn’t a discomfort, but the loose shirt over the top was a garish neon green lace with beads twisted through the threads and hiding his lightsaber in plain sight between his shoulder blades. That, coupled with the thin shorts — a harsh breeze blowing past his bared skin making him shiver — allowed him to blend into the teeming crowd that spilled out of the smoky bars and clubs that surrounded them. 

Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t meant to be here, and he could sense the lingering distaste from Qui-Gon in their Force bond — shut tight by the other man the moment Obi-Wan stepped foot outside of their rooms. He just couldn’t stand by and wait, not when the Force pulled at him so insistently, the Code running through his head like a heartbeat. 

The rumors had been circling like vultures throughout their investigation, whispers of a trading ring operating beyond the artifact they were sent to retrieve. That thread had led him here, hands trembling from the cold and goosebumps erupting down the length of his spine, to a small bar, light and music spilling from it’s open door. 

Stepping in, Obi-Wan was hit with the scent of smoke that seemed to cling to every surface, the floor sticking to the ridiculous boots he had picked up at a market stall, and eyes passing over him like trailing hands. Drawing in a deep breath, he moved forward carefully, eyes darting side to side as he searched for— There.

Tucked into a corner, sprawled into the simple leather chair as if it was a throne, was a man who felt familiar to Obi-Wan. His presence in the Force sang out to him — a careful sunset in the midst of darkness, buried yet beautiful — drawing him closer, and Obi-Wan was helpless to try and resist.

“I’m not interested,” the man said the moment Obi-Wan drew nearer, barely glancing at him as he continued to stare down at his datapad. His voice only added to the gnawing sense of familiarity that was growing in Obi-Wan’s chest, a memory that kept slipping away from him like ice water through his fingers. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Obi-Wan protested, slipping into the opposite seat with a brazen confidence he only partially felt. The man tensed, his eyes — dark and beautiful, like looking at a black hole in the void of space — darted towards Obi-Wan’s face, a frown creasing his brow and highlighting the curved scars the man possessed. 

The bounty hunter sat back in his seat, raising an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, looking every inch like a predator. Good. That was exactly what he needed. 

“I heard rumors of an underground smuggling ring in the area, operating not only in stolen artifacts but in people.” The man’s eyes went cold, lips curling into a barely restrained snarl, and Obi-Wan rushed to finish speaking. “I want to put a stop to it.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his fingers tightly around the leather bands once more, keeping his hands tucked beneath the table so the man couldn’t see them shake. It was a fine line he was walking, trying to keep his identity secret — offering just enough context clues for the man to pick up on as his eyes raked over Obi-Wan’s face — while needing this deal to go through. Everything he had heard was that this man hated slavers, almost as much as he hated Jedi, and yet they never said his name. 

“Why?”

“Because it is the right thing to do.”

Out of everything, Obi-Wan would have expected the man to do: dismiss him; insult him; bargain with him to even consider this hare-brained scheme, laughter was not one of them. Heads turned towards them, a low whisper flowing round the room and Obi-Wan felt himself flush, the colour travelling down his neck to his bared shoulders. 

“You’re a strange man,” the man said finally, shaking his head once his laughter subsided, shoulders still shaking slightly, “but I don’t think you’re lying.”

“Thank you.”

“If this is legitimate, and I don’t trust you,” the man began, his previous relaxed stance shifting into strict professionalism, “I expect half payment up front as insurance and half after the job is complete.”

Obi-Wan nodded carefully, ducking to pluck the credit chip from his belt, noting out of the corner of his eye that the man tensed and leaned slightly forwards to track his movements. “Will this be enough?”

He barely had time to register the brush of blaster calloused fingers over his own — the touch sending a shiver down his spine as he realised just how long it had been since anyone had touched him — and the man plugged the credit chip into his datapad. Obi-Wan had to trust the money he had managed to scrounge from his own personal savings and the small stipend the Temple gave them would be enough. It was a risk trying to hire anyone, but he knew well enough that trying to take on an unknown number of slavers with their prisoners thrown into the mix, was too many unknowns. 

The man’s eyes darted between the datapad and Obi-Wan’s face, some unknown knowledge settling over his shoulders like a shroud. Obi-Wan couldn’t begin to guess at what he thought about him now. He shifted on the seat, fighting the urge to let his shoulders curl to shield himself further, and saw the man track the movement. 

“This will do fine.” His voice was gentle in sharp contrast to the battered green-painted beskar he wore. “Are you able to go now?”

“Yes.”

The man stood, holding out a hand to Obi-Wan to help him out of his seat, his touch gentle and careful, as if he feared breaking Obi-Wan at any harsh gestures. “We’re going to my ship first.”

“Why?”

“Because you need some armour. It won’t be beskar.” He grinned to himself, the gesture all teeth. “But it’ll keep you more protected than that.”

Obi-Wan shivered as another cold wind whipped past him, feeling like ice shards cut into his bare skin, his teeth clenching in an attempt to keep them from rattling. The man paused, and Obi-Wan could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. In one quick motion, he took off his own cloak and threw it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. He was immediately enveloped in warmth and a clinging scent of sandalwood and smoke and he burrowed his numb fingers into the folds of the fabric. The man nodded once, and began to walk down the street once more, a hand placed carefully on the small of Obi-Wan’s back, the gesture professional even as it set Obi-Wan’s now-covered skin on fire.

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asked as they drew closer to the docks. “All the rumors I heard to find you didn’t say.”

The man let out a bark of laughter. “At least some people still hold some sense. The name is Jango Fett. And yours?”

Obi-Wan grinned through the fear that froze in his veins. He knew that name. He knew that face, although the last time he had seen Jango Fett, the man had been half-feral and pinning him to the ground, a blade embedded in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and yet, he hadn’t killed him. Obi-Wan’s heart had broken for the man as he lay there, the scent of pine and blood filling his lungs with every careful breath. Jango Fett was a Jedi killer, but he was still Obi-Wan’s best shot at getting people out alive.

“My name is Ben,” Obi-Wan said. He’d just have to stay undercover for a while longer, and hope that Jango didn’t uncover his lie. 

“Ben,” Jango repeated, pausing his stride to carefully take Obi-Wan’s hand from within the folds of the cloak and raise it to his lips, carefully kissing his knuckle like something out of an old holo film, tucking it back with a wink. 

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks flush once more, heat shooting down his back and chest — hidden now beneath Jango’s cloak — and followed the man’s gentle steering without a word. He was in more trouble than he could have ever imagined.