#saw the pattern on her robe and went for it

[smutmind]

The Summer Guest ft. Sana

Sana x Male Reader

The heat wrapped around the house like a second skin.

Sana was here for the summer. She’d just quit her corporate job in the city—something about marketing, a bad manager, too many emails. She wanted to start her own business now. Something artistic, she said, something freeing. But first, she needed space. Time to breathe. And what better place than the quiet suburbs with her older sister and her stay-at-home husband? You.

Your wife worked long hours managing a boutique downtown. You worked from home—tech and marketing projects, mostly. Your days blurred together in email threads and analytics dashboards. Sana’s arrival jolted the routine. Not just because of her presence, but because of how present she was.

She was 27. Confident. That easy kind of sexy that didn’t even feel styled. Tight tank tops, soft skin, no makeup. Her laugh carried. Her hips swung just slightly when she walked. Her tits—gravity-defying, round, unapologetic. Her ass was the kind that made you imagine grabbing it in your sleep, holding it through denim or under a dress. Your wife was beautiful—always had been—but Sana had a pulse that throbbed through the air.

She fit herself into your life like a drop of ink in clear water. Subtle at first. Then unavoidable.

You noticed it in the mornings. Her robe never quite closed all the way. Her nipples pressed against the thin cotton, teasing without intention. Or maybe with. You couldn't tell.

The first awkward moment came three days in. You walked into the kitchen for coffee and saw her there—bent over the fridge, robe rising to show the curve of her thighs. Her bra sat draped on the counter. She looked up and smiled like it was nothing.

“Morning,” she said, voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you mumbled, eyes fixed too long before darting away.

Later, in the hallway, she passed you in a tiny tank top and shorts, bare feet padding against the wood. You turned to say something—you don’t even remember what—but your words caught because her nipples were hard, clearly visible, bouncing slightly with each step.

She didn’t mention it. Neither did you.

But you noticed her bra again that evening—forgotten on the laundry chair. Cream lace. Lightly padded. You imagined how it cupped her. How it felt under your palm.

She was everywhere. Curling up on your couch with one leg tucked under her, reading your books. Sipping wine barefoot on your porch, her toes painting idle patterns on the railing. Sitting too close on the loveseat with her thigh brushing yours. Not on purpose. Maybe.

Every interaction made your pulse climb. She knew how to stretch. She knew how to bend at the waist when she dropped something. She wore dresses that caught wind just right.

You found yourself timing your breaks to when she was likely in the kitchen. Once you stepped in to find her eating cherries with her fingers, juice sliding to her wrist. She sucked it clean, eyes on you.

“Want one?” she asked.

You said no. But you watched her mouth. The way her lips closed around the pit. You imagined things you shouldn’t.

One night, you went to get water and found her in the dim light of the fridge, wearing only a shirt. Your shirt. You recognized it. Too big on her, loose at the neck, hanging low enough to flash a cheek as she turned. She didn’t apologize. Just grabbed a bottle and padded back down the hallway. That was the night you started fantasizing.

Guilt followed you to bed.

You began avoiding eye contact. You locked the bathroom door when you showered. You double-checked the guest towels before doing laundry. Every small measure was an attempt at distance. But desire doesn’t care about rules. It festers in silence.

The turning point came a week in.

You were making lunch. She came up behind you, hands on the counter beside yours. Close enough to feel the heat off her skin.

“Smells good,” she said.

“It’s just grilled cheese,” you replied.

She leaned in, chin nearly on your shoulder. “Still. There’s something about watching a man cook.”

You didn’t answer. Her voice scraped nerves you didn’t know were exposed.

When you finally turned, she hadn’t moved. Inches apart. Her lips shiny, parted. Your gaze dropped to her chest, rising with each breath. You met her eyes. She didn’t blink.

“Do you ever think about things you shouldn’t?” she asked.

You should’ve walked away.

Instead, you lied. “No.”

She smiled. Bit her lip. Turned and walked out.

You couldn’t eat.

The grilled cheese turned to rubber in your hands. You scraped the plate into the trash, running water louder than it needed to be. Her smile lingered like the scent of her shampoo in the hallway—floral, sweet, innocent enough to feel like a lie.

The next morning, she was already on the porch when you stepped out. Legs crossed, sun catching on her thighs. A sports bra today. Tight. You told yourself that meant she was being decent. But the way it cupped her chest, the outline of her nipples firm under the fabric, told another story.

“Sleep okay?” she asked, voice like a lazy hum.

You nodded. “You?”

“Dreamed about thunder,” she said. “Woke up wet.”

You froze. She looked over with a sly smile. “From the rain, I mean.”

“Of course,” you muttered.

She laughed, the sound light and deliberate. You noticed how her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup.

That day, your wife texted—late shift, manager meeting, won’t be back until after dinner. The pattern had become familiar. You worked at the kitchen table. Sana moved through the house like she owned it.

At noon, she came out of the shower in nothing but a towel, damp hair dripping down her back. “Laundry room’s locked again,” she said, stepping close. “Mind unlocking it?”

You did. But not before your eyes dragged across the slope of her chest, towel barely holding.

“Thanks,” she said, and lingered too long.

By Thursday, you were avoiding her like a bad habit. But she kept reappearing—sweeping near you, reaching over you, laughing at nothing. You dropped a spoon. She bent to grab it first, ass grazing your thigh.

“Oops,” she whispered.

You started staying longer in your office, headphones on, door cracked just an inch.

But then came Saturday.

Your wife left early. Sana wandered in while you were fixing a leaking faucet. She stood in the doorway in cutoff shorts and a crop top, licking a popsicle with way too much attention.

“Need help?”

You said no. She sat anyway. Cross-legged, leaned forward, cleavage deep and shadowed.

“Why do you always run away from me?”

You tightened the wrench, jaw clenched. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

She tilted her head. “So it’s all in my head?”

You didn’t answer.

That night, she sat on the porch swing while you grilled. Her foot kept brushing yours. When you looked, she held your gaze, licking BBQ sauce off her finger slowly.

After dinner, you washed dishes. She walked up behind you again. Same way as before. Only this time, her hand touched your hip.

“You keep pretending,” she whispered. “But I see how you look at me.”

Your hands shook in the soapy water. “I’m married.”

“I know,” she said, her breath against your neck. “That’s why it’s so hot.”

You turned, too fast, bumping into her. Your bodies met. Her chest against yours. Her breath catching.

“Tell me you don’t want it,” she said.

You couldn’t.

She leaned in, lips grazing your jaw. Not a kiss. Just a suggestion. Then she walked away.

You stood there, soaked, aroused, ashamed.

The next morning, she wore your wife’s robe.

“Laundry day,” she said, spinning slowly. It was too short on her. The belt tied low, hint of hip, hint of skin. You swallowed hard and left for a walk.

Later that day, she passed you a bowl of cherries. Same as before.

This time, you took one.

And watched her mouth suck the pit clean.

The moment felt suspended, sticky with intention. Her lips pursed around the pit, eyes holding yours as she rolled it slowly across her tongue. When she spit it into her palm, she did so gently, like the cherry was some sacred offering. Your throat tightened.

“You’ve been tense,” she said.

You scoffed, but it came out strangled. “Work.”

She stepped closer. “No, it’s not.”

The air between you shrank. She reached out, plucked another cherry, and pressed it to your lips. You hesitated.

“Bite it,” she whispered.

You did. Juice burst across your tongue. Her fingers brushed your chin, slow to fall away. Her breath was warm. She leaned in, slowly, waiting for resistance that never came.

The kiss wasn’t sudden. It was slow. Melted. Her lips opened just slightly, letting the taste of fruit and heat pass between you. You pulled back first.

“We can’t,” you said, voice low.

“But we already did,” she replied.

You left the kitchen. The cherry pit still in your mouth.

You didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, she caught you in the garage, shirtless, fixing the mower. She walked in barefoot, carrying two popsicles.

“Hot,” she said. You weren’t sure if she meant the day or you.

She bit into hers and made a soft noise of satisfaction. You tried to look away. Failed.

“You know what’s killing me?” she asked.

“Sana.”

She moved closer, slow, deliberate. “It’s this time of the month. My body’s aching. Like I’m empty and hungry in all the wrong places.” She licked the melting popsicle, slow circles. “Everything inside me wants to be filled. And it’s worse now. Every step, I feel it. Every brush of my thighs, every breeze through this thin shirt.”

You dropped the wrench. “Don’t do this.”

She didn’t stop. “I’ve been trying those herbal supplements. You know the ones? For energy and balance.” She chuckled. “But now all I do is wake up soaking. Touch myself twice before noon. And it’s not enough.”

She looked you in the eye. “I see you watching. I feel how you hold your breath when I pass. You want me.”

“You’re my sister-in-law,” you said, stepping back.

She smiled. “Your wife’s little sister.” She let the words drip like honey. “Her baby sister. And she left me here with you.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t it?” she interrupted. “You think I don’t know how wrong this is? That’s why it’s been building. That’s why it’s this good already.”

She came closer, body warm, eyes glowing. “I’m not asking for promises. I’m asking for now. Right here. In this moment.”

She dropped the popsicle, let it clatter to the concrete.

Her shirt peeled off next. No bra. Her nipples peaked, skin flushed.

“I’m dripping,” she whispered. “I want you inside me. Raw. Deep. Like you mean it.”

You looked away, jaw clenched. “No condom.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s part of it. I want to feel everything. You, the heat, the pulse. I want to know what it’s like to be claimed.”

Her shorts slid down, slow, deliberate. No panties. Her thighs slick, bare, shameless.

“You can still say no,” she said. “I’ll walk away. But if you take one step toward me, I’m not stopping until you make me scream.”

You stepped.

Your hands caught her hips. She gasped, then crashed her mouth into yours. The kiss was teeth and tongue and wild hunger. Her hands fumbled at your waistband, pulling you close.

You didn’t lift her yet. Instead, you pulled back, foreheads pressed. Breathing hard.

“This is your sister’s house,” you muttered. “She sleeps in our bed.”

“And I sleep down the hall, alone,” Sana whispered, lips grazing your cheek. “Alone and wet every night. Because of you.”

She kissed your neck, soft, teasing, the tip of her tongue tracing your pulse. Her hands slid beneath your shirt, palms hungry. “She gets you. I hear her moans through the wall sometimes. I imagine you making me sound like that.”

You clenched your jaw, but your hands tightened on her hips.

“She’s going to come home eventually,” you said.

“I’ll be gone before she pulls into the driveway,” Sana whispered. “But you’ll still be shaking from it. Just like I will.”

Her fingers traced your waistband again, slipped beneath. She dropped to her knees, bare and glowing in the garage light, eyes lifted to yours.

“This is the worst thing I’ve ever done,” you whispered.

She smiled. “Good. That means you’ll remember it.”

She pressed her mouth against your stomach. Warm kisses trailing down your skin. Her voice barely audible. “I’ve been dreaming about this since the first week. Dreaming about sucking you until I forget my name. Until you forget hers.”

You groaned. “Sana—”

She stood and took your hand, guiding it down her stomach, between her legs. Her folds were soaked, swollen, eager. She leaned in, voice hot in your ear. “No one’s touched me in months. No one’s made me beg. I want to beg for you. Just once.”

You slid your fingers over her slit. She shivered, hips arching. “You’re insane.”

“Insane for you,” she said. “Do it, and I’ll carry it like a secret tattoo. No one will know. But you’ll never forget how I sounded.”

She sucked your earlobe, teeth grazing. “Say it. Say you want to fuck your wife’s baby sister.”

Your hands trembled.

“I want to hear you say it,” she whispered.

You exhaled, the words slipping before you could stop them. “I want to fuck my wife’s baby sister.”

Sana moaned like the words themselves touched her. Her lips crashed back to yours. Tongues tangling. Her thigh slid between yours, grinding against your need.

She reached down, wrapped her hand around you, guiding. “You’re already hard. You’ve been hard for days. Give it to me.”

Your mouth moved to her throat, biting gently. “This is a mistake.”

“It’s the best kind,” she whispered. “Now take me like you’ve wanted to.”

You paused. The garage walls felt too thin, too open, too exposed.

“No,” you said, breath catching. “Not here.”

She blinked, then followed your glance to the open window, the driveway. Her mouth parted. She nodded.

“Guest room,” you said.

Her eyes flared. She grabbed her shirt, didn’t bother to dress. Just clutched it to her chest and followed.

The hallway was silent. Your steps careful, adrenaline sharp. You shut the guest room door behind you.

She dropped the shirt. Naked. Wanting. Waiting.

And the lock clicked into place.

You stayed by the door, chest rising, hand still on the knob.

“Tell me you’re sure,” you said.

She turned slowly, stepping backward toward the bed. Her voice came low. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her body was golden in the dim light, curves casting soft shadows on the walls. She didn’t hide. She opened herself to you, arms loose at her sides, eyes burning.

You stepped forward. She met you halfway.

Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, tugged it over your head. She kissed your collarbone, soft and reverent, then lower—chest, ribs, abdomen. “I want to feel all of you,” she murmured. “Slow. Like I’ve earned it.”

She sank to her knees, not to tease, but to worship. Her lips pressed to your hip, her cheek against your thigh. “You’ve been so good,” she whispered. “Resisting me. Thinking of her. But not now. Not in here.”

Her fingers slid along your waistband again, then underneath. She peeled everything down, exposing your length. Her eyes lit up. “You’re beautiful.”

She took you in her hand, slow, deliberate strokes, then kissed the tip. Just once.

Then she looked up. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you said, without hesitation.

She smiled. “Then lie back. Let me show you how much.”

You did. And she followed, crawling onto the bed, eyes locked on yours. The hunger was there, but under it—something like awe.

She kissed you again. Longer this time. Deeper. Her body slid over yours, skin to skin, heat to heat. And the world disappeared.

She rocked against you, the soft friction of her body over your cock enough to make your hips buck. Her breath hitched.

“You feel like velvet,” she whispered, reaching down to guide you. Her fingers curled around your shaft again, sliding it against her slickness.

The tip kissed her entrance.

“Don’t hold back,” she breathed. “I want all of it.”

You pushed into her slowly, the warmth of her wrapping around you inch by inch. She gasped, hands bracing on your chest. Her nails dug in as your length filled her, thick and deep. Her thighs trembled.

“Oh god,” she moaned. “You’re perfect.”

You bottomed out. She held still, breath shivering, forehead pressed to yours.

“We shouldn’t,” you murmured.

Her eyes met yours. “But we are.”

She began to move, rolling her hips slow and steady, grinding herself down like she wanted to memorize your shape. Her lips brushed your ear. “This is what I’ve needed. Every night I touched myself, I thought of you. Of this.”

Your hands slid to her waist, guiding her rhythm. Her heat clenched around you. She whimpered when you thrust up, meeting her roll.

“You’re inside your wife’s little sister,” she whispered, and the filth of it made your cock throb. “She has no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She rode you harder, hair falling in your face, mouth open, gasps louder with every thrust. Your hands roamed her back, her ass, gripping, guiding.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you?” she cried.

You flipped her over in one motion, pressing her into the mattress. She moaned in shock and pleasure. Her legs spread wide, welcoming, needy.

“Show me,” she said breathlessly. “Show me how bad you want this.”

You grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed, body flush over hers. She gasped, eyes wide, then melted beneath your weight.

“I’m not one of your clumsy boys,” you said, voice gravel and heat. “You wanted a man—now take what that means.”

You drove into her, hard. Her back arched with a cry so raw it rattled the headboard. Her nails clawed at your grip but didn’t try to escape.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered. “You feel—fuck—you feel like nothing I’ve ever had.”

You slowed just enough to speak into her mouth. “You’ve been fucked by boys in suits. Quick, quiet, selfish.”

She nodded, gasping. “In bathrooms... offices... never like this.”

You ground your hips in deep circles, making her sob against your throat.

“They never made you beg,” you said.

“N-no,” she choked out.

You pulled nearly all the way out. Waited. Watched her writhe.

“Beg, Sana.”

“Please,” she moaned. “Please give it to me. Don’t tease. I need you.”

You thrust back in so deep she shouted, legs locking around you.

“Good girl,” you growled. “Now you know what it’s like to be taken.”

Your rhythm was relentless now—long, claiming strokes that made her entire body rock beneath you. Her tits bounced with every slam, nipples flushed, mouth slack.

She babbled your name, incoherent with bliss. Her pussy fluttered around you, desperate, soaked.

“You’re fucking ruined,” you whispered against her ear.

She cried out. “Yes—ruin me—I want it—I want you to wreck me.”

You pushed her thighs wider, deeper than before. Her eyes rolled back. Her moans broke into little whimpers, punched out with every thrust.

“Feel that?” you said, hand on her throat now, not squeezing, just holding.

She nodded frantically. “You’re everywhere. Inside me—oh god—you’re so deep.”

You kissed her hard. Possessive. A claim.

And she kissed back like she’d die without it.

Then she flipped you.

One motion—fluid, practiced—and suddenly you were on your back, and she was straddling you. Her hands pressed into your chest, her hips sinking down again with a wet, welcoming slide.

“Let me show you,” she said, breathless but steady, “what those boys never got.”

She rolled her hips in slow, grinding circles, squeezing you inside her, her thighs flexing. Her breasts bounced as she leaned over, lips at your ear.

“You’ve never done it like this with her, have you?”

You swallowed hard.

“She wouldn’t let you,” she said, riding you harder now, her fingers running down your chest, your sides. “Wouldn’t let you lay back and just feel.”

Your hands gripped her hips. You didn’t answer.

“That’s why I’m here,” she moaned. “To give you what she never could.”

Your guilt twisted, sharp and undeniable. But it didn’t stop your hips from meeting hers.

She smiled. “That’s it,” she whispered. “Give in to me. Just for tonight.”

And you did.

You reached up, one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her jaw. You pulled her down and kissed her—long, deep, hungry. Her moan poured into your mouth as she kept moving, grinding slow and tight over your cock.

Then you sat up, keeping her wrapped around you, your arms around her waist, your chest to hers.

Face to face.

You kissed her again, tongues twisting, your bodies locked together. She clung to your shoulders, panting. Her hips rolled like a wave, slick and strong. Every time she came down, your breath hitched. She was tight, dripping, and utterly in control—but it was you who anchored her.

She broke the kiss just long enough to rest her forehead against yours. Her voice came out in a low tremble.

“Don’t make me fall in love with you.”

You froze.

She rocked once more, slower now, deeper. “Because if you do, I’ll take you.”

“Sana—”

Her laugh was breathless, bittersweet. “Like I did with my sister’s Barbies. When we were kids. I’d steal them. Hide them under my bed. Make them mine.”

Your heart twisted. Her pace didn’t stop.

“I’d wait until she was gone,” she whispered, “then pick the prettiest one. The one she liked most.” Her mouth kissed your cheek, your jaw, your lips again. “And I’d keep it. Pretend it had always belonged to me.”

You kissed her like you couldn’t help it.

She groaned softly. “So don’t love me, okay?” she whispered. “Just fuck me. Hard. Like I’m your favorite toy.”

And you held her tighter.

She ground down harder, riding you with filthy intention, her hips slamming with desperate rhythm. Her moans sharpened, breathy and raw. Every time she dropped her hips, her walls clenched like she meant to milk every drop from you.

“I can feel you twitching,” she gasped. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You grit your teeth. “No. I can’t. I’m not blowing inside you, Sana. You know we can’t.”

She slowed, still grinding, her voice purring against your ear. “But I want it so bad. Want to feel you paint me inside. Want to be your dirty secret, dripping with your cum while your wife’s at work.”

You groaned. “Don’t make this harder.”

Her lips brushed your cheek. “Then let me make it easy.”

She kissed you once—sweet, needy—and lifted off you, your cock bouncing slick against your stomach. Her hand found it instantly, stroking as she crawled down the bed.

Her voice turned playful, wicked. “You’re so fucking hard for me. You’ve been aching since I got here.”

She settled between your legs, hair wild, eyes shining. “Let me taste how much you wanted me. Let me swallow every drop like the filthy girl I am.”

Then she wrapped her lips around you, warm and perfect, tongue circling the head as she moaned like she was devouring a dessert.

You gasped. “Fuck, Sana—”

Her mouth slid deeper, taking more, her throat fluttering around your tip. She pulled back with a slick pop and giggled softly, eyes locked to yours.

“I always wanted to be your favorite. Let me prove I can be,” she whispered. “Just once. Let me ruin you for anyone else.”

Then she sank back down, bobbing slow, one hand teasing your base while the other stroked your thigh like she owned you.

You fisted the sheets, back arching. She didn’t stop. She moaned around you like your cock was her cure.

And you were about to break.

You warned her—one gasp, one broken word. She only moaned louder.

And then it hit.

Your back arched again, hips bucked. You spilled down her throat with a grunt, body spasming as she swallowed you greedily, lips sealed around your cock like she needed every drop.

When she finally pulled off, she sat back on her heels, grinning like the wicked little thing she was. She opened her mouth to show you—tongue out, thick with your cum.

She scooped some up with her fingers and rubbed it over her tits, teasing her nipples until they gleamed. “Pretty good show, huh?” she said, voice husky.

You could barely breathe.

She crawled back up beside you, her body still glowing, still needy. She kissed your cheek, then your chest, then lowered to your nipples, licking them with soft, slow flicks of her tongue. Her hand stroked your softening cock like she missed it already.

“That was perfect,” she whispered.

You stared at the ceiling, chest rising, heart pounding.

She curled against you, tracing circles on your stomach. “I’m here for another week.”

You didn’t answer.

She kissed your shoulder. “Think I’ll get another chance to make you lose your mind?”

Still, you couldn’t answer. You didn’t trust what would come out.

She smiled into your skin. “We’ll see.”

[pboogerswbb]

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

-

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 

“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.” 

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!” 

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

[virescent-v]

except me pt 2

A/N: Another smutty Emily fic! Sorry this one took me like...two months. I have no excuse lmao.

Summary: This is the second part to Except Me which can be read here! Reader goes to Emily's after work and fun ensues ;)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: thigh grinding, restraints, anal plugs, mommy kink, praise kink, some slight degradation, strap-ons, squirting (if you squint)

x-x-x

The work day seemed to drag on after your encounter with Emily in her office. You tried to focus on your paperwork, tried to keep your eyes from straying towards her office, but you were struggling. You left work around five, wanting to go home and freshen up before heading towards Emily’s apartment. 

As you finished your shower, where you took extra time to exfoliate, shave, and moisturize, you got a text from your boss that accelerated your heartbeat. 

Emily: Arrive by seven, no later. When you get here, come in and follow the directions on the counter. 

You could already feel the excitement bubbling up at the prospect of what the night was going to bring, so you just liked the text and finished getting ready. You did your makeup a little heavier, smokier around the eyes, a dark red lipstick adorning your lips. You opted for a simple black lace set of undergarments, figuring it wouldn’t be on too long to make a real difference, and a simple white cotton shirt and jeans. 

You left your place with enough time to get to Emily’s slightly before seven, not wanting to start the night off on the wrong foot. When you opened her door, you could hear a slight thumping bass echoing from further in the apartment. Your eyes scanned the main entryway, not seeing Emily. Walking to the counter in the kitchen, you saw a note folded in half with your name on it in Emily’s loopy scrawl and a gift bag beside it. Opening the note, you felt your already fast heart rate speed up even more. 

“Be a good girl for me, angel, and take off everything you’re wearing and put on what I’ve bought for you. Meet me upstairs when you’re ready. Second door on the left.” 

Going through the gift bag, you gasped at the high quality material of the lingerie, the color seemingly black in the low light of the apartment. Bringing the garment fully out of the bag, you saw that it was actually a very dark green, a color that was one of your favorites and went well with your skin tone. The lingerie was more intricate than you originally speculated. The entire set matched completely, from the panties to the bra to the garter. There were multiple criss-crossing lines and a hint of a floral pattern on the main pieces that covered your privates. It was complex, but still sophisticated without being too much. A matching satin robe was also in the bag. 

You got dressed quickly, placing your clothes on the counter folded up. You wouldn’t be needing them for a while. 

You took a deep breath, centering yourself before beginning the climb up the stairs to where Emily was waiting for you. As you got closer to the room, you could smell a light, fragrant smell and see the flickering of the candle light from the hallway. 

With one more deep breath, you walked into the room. 

Your breath immediately caught in your lungs, stuttering out in a rapid staccato beat. 

Emily was lounging in an oversize, plush chair in the corner of her room reading a book. Her hair was down, a slight wave to it from being exposed to the air all day. She, too, had on a satin robe, hiding whatever was underneath. You wondered if her apparel matched yours or differed. To be honest, you weren’t sure you really even cared that much. You’d enjoy taking it off, though. 

But what had you absolutely hypnotized were the glasses that adorned her face, simple in shape, but drawing attention to her beautiful eyes. The frames sat a little lower on the bridge of her nose, having fallen slightly while her head was tilted down reading. 

“You’re staring, pretty girl,” Emily’s voice brought you out of your ogling. 

“You expect me not to? When you look like that?” 

Emily smirked, her eyes flicking over the pages, trying to equalize her attention between you and her book.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m wearing a robe. Nothing much to gawk at.” 

You cleared your throat, your toes scrunching up in the carpet beneath your feet. Breathily, you said, “it’s the glasses.” 

At that, Emily slowly closed her book, her eyes glancing up at you from under the lenses. Her pupils were dark, or so you thought, with the lighting in the room being what it was. She looked….hungry. Like she was assessing you. 

“Is that so?” She placed the book on the table beside the chair. She crossed her legs, putting each of her arms on the arms of the chair. She looked every bit of a woman in charge, a queen on a plush throne. 

You swallowed heavily. The temperature of the room felt like it increased five degrees with the way that Emily was looking at you. You nodded, already not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Emily tilted her head to the side, pulling her glasses off, bringing the temple piece that wrapped around her ear to between her teeth, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips. “Do me a favor and take that robe off. Slowly.” 

A deep inhale through your nose, you reached towards the tie of the robe, dragging it carefully between each finger, feeling the satin heat with each pass. Deliberately, you tugged the tie loose, letting the robe fall gently open. You watched as Emily’s eyes tracked every movement as the robe opened, but still kept most of the lingerie covered. With the tie undone, you drew your hands up the open sides of the robe, thoughtfully brushing your pinkies against your already hardened nipples. You let your head fall back slightly as you pulled the robe down your shoulders lazily, taking your time in exposing each inch of you. As more and more skin came into view, you watched as Emily’s grip tightened on the arm rests of the chair, as if she wanted to reach out and rip the robe from your body. 

You paused for a second, waiting for Emily’s eyes to catch yours before dropping the robe completely. Emily managed to keep eye contact with you for a few seconds after the robe hit the floor, but curiosity got the better of her, her eyes languidly caressing each miniscule part of you. You watched as her eyes traveled each intricate strap of your lingerie, taking in how well it complemented your figure. You watched as she swallowed, her tongue tracing her lower lip before her eyes met yours again. 

“You look absolutely delicious, baby.” 

Emily’s use of pet names were a sure fire way to get you to melt into the perfect headspace for the evening ahead. It made you feel special, looked after, and most importantly, hers. You’ve always enjoyed just the right amount of possessiveness with your partners; a way to finally feel like you belong to someone who will take care of you. 

“Thank you,” you all but whispered. 

Emily took another second to let her eyes travel over your body before beckoning you to her. “Come here,” she said, pointing to the floor in front of her. She placed her glasses on the table beside the chair. 

You walked slowly across the carpet, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. As you neared, Emily uncrossed her legs and gestured to the spot between them. Stopping between her legs, her hands lightly gripped your hips, keeping you in place. 

Emily took a quick breath, her thumbs rubbing circles on the sides of the lingerie, feeling the straps and lace. She looked up at you, which made you feel powerful, like you were controlling the shots. Even though you knew that she was absolutely in control. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to. We can stop at any time.” 

You smiled briefly, your hand coming up and tilting her chin upwards to get a better look at her. To make sure she heard you when you spoke. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I want you to do whatever you want to me, Em.” Your thumb caressed her bottom lip, smiling a little when her tongue flicked over it. “But you better believe when you’re done I get my turn.”

Emily let out an almost silent moan, but you caught it. She took a deep breath. “Anything I should know before starting? Anything off the table?” 

You decided she’d been talking enough. The checking in was cute, sweet even, but you were pretty sure your panties were already ruined. You leaned down and kissed her softly. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. I’ll stop you if I’m uncomfortable. Stoplight to check in, red and vanilla are my hard stops. Now touch me before I do it myself.” 

At that, Emily let out an almost animalistic growl. She roughly grabbed your waist, sliding back in the chair and pulling you onto her thigh. What you couldn’t see underneath her robe previously was a silicone grinder, a small oval pad with various bumps and ridges on it that was strapped to her thigh. Emily immediately forced your hips down and back and forth, which made you very aware of how these bumps felt against your clit. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” 

Your hands shot out to Emily’s shoulders as your hips started moving back and forth. You could feel the silicone ridges through your panties, which were already soaked. The feel of the fabric and the texture of the bumpy silicone was already driving you a little crazy. It was causing just enough pressure to rile you up, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to cum just from this. 

Emily sat back, her hands moving towards your knees, rubbing the skin there. “Look at you. You’ve been here less than ten minutes and you’re already desperate to cum.” She caught your wild, wide eyes. “Such a whore for me and I’ve barely touched you.” 

The moan you let out was desperate, echoing how you were already feeling. “Please, Em,” you said, gripping her hair in your hand, tilting her head back so you could meet her lips in a frenzied kiss. Your tongue brushed over hers, tasting the wine she’d had when she got home from work and something that was just Emily. 

She pulled back, a little breathlessly, stopping the frantic movements of your hips. “Off, baby. Take off the lingerie.” 

You were panting, not wanting to stop your movements. But the idea of the silicone rubbing directly against your wet, swollen clit was more than enough to get you to get up. You basically tore the lingerie off, not caring where it ended up on the floor. Before she could even say anything else, you were taking Emily’s robe off, too, wanting to see what she had on underneath it. 

As you slid the robe from her shoulders, your breath caught again. Emily was wearing a matching deep red lace set of bra and panties. You caught her eyes again as your pussy remade contact with the silicone strapped to her strong thigh. “You’re beautiful, you know,” you said, your hands resting lightly on the exposed skin of her chest right above her breasts. 

She smiled lightly, her hands making their way back to your now unclothed body. “You are too, pretty girl. And you’re going to be even more beautiful when you cum for me over and over and over again.” Her hands circled your waist, each hand grabbing at your ass. “Now move.” 

Your hips immediately began a brutal pace, the feeling of the ridges and lumps of the silicone feeling much more intense after taking off your panties. Each movement forward and backward dragged your clit against them, creating the most delicious friction that was rubbing against you in just the right ways. With each movement, you were pushed that much closer to tumbling over the edge, the familiar tightening in your lower belly telling you that you were close.

“Look at you, how you’re dripping for me. You’re already so close.” Emily’s hands traveled up your body, her thumbs brushing across your hardened nipples. As her fingers began pulling on them, she growled out, “now be a good little slut and cum for me, baby.” 

The fact that Emily already knew how to push you closer to cumming, the way she knew how to touch you, the way her voice had deepened, becoming almost gravelly, you couldn’t help but follow her directions. Your head tilted back, your spine arching towards her, as you moaned loudly, “fuck, mommy!”  

You continued to ride Emily’s thigh through your first orgasm, feeling your juices spread over the silicone toy. As you came down from the high, you realized what you said and embarrassingly brought your head back up and looked at Emily. 

Emily’s eyes had dilated to the point where there was no color left in them, her chest heaving with quick breaths. “What did you just call me?” 

Your eyes shifted to the side, not wanting to meet hers. You cleared your throat a little, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. “Mommy.” 

Emily brought her body flush against yours, the lace of her bra brushing against your breasts. Her hand captured your chin, forcing you to look at her. “That’s right, little girl.” Her thumb brushed against your lips, pulling it from between your teeth. “Now you better scream that every single time you cum for me tonight, understood?” 

You took Emily’s thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it briefly before sucking on it. “Yes, mommy.” 

Emily trailed her now slick thumb down the column of your throat, watching as you swallowed with the movement. You watched as it trailed between your breasts, down your belly, before moving towards your hip. Emily took one more glance at you before pulling you harder against her, her hands under your thighs as she lifted you up, your legs immediately coming around her waist. 

She carried you a small distance to the bed, laying you down against it before hovering over you. “Arms up and legs spread, love.” 

You put your arms up and Emily immediately strapped them down to the ties she already had on the bed. She made sure they were tight enough that you couldn’t move much, but not tight enough to hurt you. When she was done with your hands, she grabbed each of your knees and placed them in similar ties. But, she didn’t strap them to the bottom of the bed. Instead, she bent your knees, and tied them to the top of the bed as well. In this position, your knees were almost flush with your chest and your thighs were spread open to an almost uncomfortable stretch. It left you completely and utterly exposed, the cool air of the room spreading goosebumps across your skin. 

“You look so pretty all tied down and spread open for me, baby,” Emily said, kneeling between your spread legs, trailing her hands over your body. 

You could feel yourself flushing under her intense gaze, your breath panting. 

As Emily’s hands made their way down your body, your hips tried to buck up into them, trying to get them to move further down. “Please, Em, touch me,” you whined. 

Emily lowly chuckled, “I am touching you, sweetheart.” Her hands skimmed across your thighs, dangerously close to your aching center. “But if you want something specific, you just have to ask.” 

Your earlier orgasm did nothing to dwindle the heat spreading through your core; you needed desperately to cum again. “Your tongue, your fingers, it doesn’t matter, Emily. Just fuck me,” you breathed out. 

You watched as Emily inhaled deeply, her eyes lazily trailing over your exposed cunt, almost as if deciding how she wanted to take you next. You almost pleaded that she could fuck you over and over if she was undecided, but before you could, Emily’s tongue made contact with your sodden folds and you lost the breath in your lungs. 

You struggled in your ties with each tortuously slow pass of Emily’s tongue over your lower lips. Each pass got closer and closer to both your entrance and your clit, but never made contact. Emily alternated between fast and slow motions, flattening her tongue before rolling it into a point. The constant changing of pace was driving you crazy, it only riled you up without getting you there.  

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you, slowly dripping down your backside and pooling on the sheets beneath. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before and you were sure it was only going to get worse as Emily continued to play with you. 

After what seemed like a tortuous few minutes, Emily’s tongue finally made contact with your swollen nub, zeroing in on the patterns that drove you craziest. Little flicks of her tongue had you gasping, fast circles had you trying to buck your hips even in your confined pose.

Each pass of her tongue pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the coil expanding in your belly ready to burst. You whispered a quiet ‘please, please please’ under your breath, but it caught Emily’s attention, her eyes flicking up to you. 

“Cum all over my mouth, pretty girl, so I can finally fuck you with my cock,” she said, her tongue immediately going back to your clit. Emily brought two fingers up under her chin, thrusting inside of you without any warning. 

That’s all it took for you to come undone, your entire body tensing as wave after wave rushed through you. But you didn’t have an opportunity to come down from your high, as Emily continued to thrust her fingers inside of you. 

“One more for me, baby. Wanna make sure your pretty pussy is nice and ready for me.” 

You almost sobbed in oversensitivity, but Emily switched to pulsating her fingers inside of you, her tongue lightly tracing your outer lips. It was enough delicious friction to keep you from coming down from your last orgasm, but enough to not make it painfully sensitive to where you wanted to stop. 

For the first time sleeping together, Emily was already quickly becoming a master of your body. It only took a few more seconds of Emily’s tongue wrapped around your clit, and a hand tugging at your turgid nipples for you to cum again. 

Emily lazily lapped at you, drinking down everything you had to give. As you caught your breath, you started giggling under your breath. 

Emily’s hands traveled up your body, slowly untying you, massaging your limbs to restore blood flow. “What’s so funny, hm?” She asked, mirth in her eyes.

“If I had known talking about sex would’ve gotten me in this position, I would’ve done it on my first day with the BAU,” you said smiling, trying to catch your breath. 

Emily smirked back at you, placing small kisses all over your body as you calmed down. “If I had known all I had to do to have you in my bed was mention getting laid, I would’ve done it much sooner.” 

You trailed your hand down, gripping Emily’s chin in your hand. Catching her gaze, you quirked an eyebrow in question. 

Emily rolled her eyes at you. “Yes, I’ve wanted you in my bed since you started the team. Can you blame me? Look at you,” she said, her eyes traversing over your skin. 

You felt your body flush in nervous excitement, unbelieving that your very capable, very hot boss harbored the same feelings you did. 

Before you could question her further, Emily sat back on her heels, her hands rubbing soothing circles over your knees. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want to take a break?” 

You smiled, finding it adorable that she was always looking out for you. But it wasn’t necessary. “I was promised to cum on your cock, was I not?” You smirked at her. You had a feeling that the dirty talk was to Emily as the pet names were to you. 

Emily pinched your hip, rolling off of the bed before disappearing into her closet. “Lose the attitude before I come back or I’ll fuck it out of you, angel,” she tossed over her shoulder, missing the way your entire body shivered in anticipation. You hoped this was just the beginning of exploring each other's bodies. 

When Emily came out of the closet, you had to stop yourself from drooling. Attached to her hips was a decently sized cock, a dark purple shade that wasn’t too silly looking. Emily was already a confident person, but something about the added appendage gave her extra swagger. She looked comfortable in it, experienced. You couldn’t wait to see how she took it out on you. 

“Hands and knees, pretty girl.” 

You rolled over without having to be asked twice. It was one of your favorite positions to be fucked in, the depth of which you could feel the fake phallus almost always took your breath away and left you trembling. 

In your admiration of how Emily looked packing, you missed all of the other goodies she was carrying in her hands. You felt the bed dip behind you, Emily’s hands spreading your thighs apart, leaving your pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. 

“You look so pretty like this, waiting for me. You were wet before, but now you’re absolutely dripping down your thighs.” 

A swift smack to the outer aspect of your ass left you bucking into the air, trying to feel Emily’s strap behind you. Her hands massaged the rounded globes of your ass, feeling the muscles beneath her hands quiver. “How do you feel about plugs?” She asked, pulling apart your cheeks to watch the way your entire lower half clenched in anticipation. 

Emily lowly chuckled, “Mh, seems like that’s a yes, but I need verbal consent, baby.” One of her hands drifted down, gathering your abundant wetness, before slicking some back up to your puckered hole, smearing it around the outside. 

Your breath was already coming in fast pants and you could feel the way the blood was rushing south. Your skin felt electric, buzzing, as if every hair was standing straight up in attention. You took a deep, steadying breath, pulling air in through your nose before exhaling slowly through your mouth. “Please, Em, put it inside me and then fuck me,” you breathed. “Wanna be so full of you,” you whined, pushing your hips back at her. 

Emily gripped your hips harder, whimpering at how much that turned her on. How much you turned her on. She grabbed the plug from beside her on the bed, rubbing it between your legs to gather your wetness. You had to stop yourself from thrusting against it, the pressure only minimal on your clit. 

Emily trailed the plug up, watching as you arched your back, exposing more of you to her. She had to take a second to compose herself, not wanting to hurt you. Slowly, she inched the plug inside of you, watching as your body expanded and contracted taking it in. 

Once it was fully inside, you had to take multiple shuddering breaths as Emily rubbed your hips. You’ve used plugs before, but with the way Emily commanded your body, you were at a pleasure you’ve never been at before. 

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” Emily said, bending over and placing small kisses around your ass, letting you adjust to the pressure of it inside you. “I can’t wait to watch and listen to you cum for me.” 

The whine you let out was almost pathetic; you could hear the desperation in your voice. “Please, Em, fuck me now.” Your legs spread a little more, opening you up further. The pleasure was already so intense that your upper body collapsed against the bed. 

You could feel Emily move a little behind you. She trailed the head of the strap along your lower lips, lubricating it with your own wetness, watching you tremble each time it passed over your clit. Emily looked down, the shininess of the cock making her almost whine, before leaning down and spitting on it to further lubricate it. She used her hand to rub up and down, making sure it was well coated before lining it up with your entrance. “Ready, baby?” 

“Fuck me, mommy, now.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, thrusting into you slowly, but with the confidence and force you needed. The cock dragged along your inner walls, but also against the plug that was nestled inside. The pressure was enough to have you clawing at the sheets for some sort of relief, not that you wanted to get away from how good it felt. It was simultaneously everything and not enough. 

Emily, still able to read you like a book, started moving faster, her thrusts shallow, allowing you to feel each ridge and bump of the silicone cock inside of you. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” she moaned. 

There was something about hearing Emily moan, whimper, and whine for you. Her voice had gotten more intense, gravelly, and you wanted it to wrap around you so you could melt into it. 

You started to thrust back against her, wanting it harder and deeper and more. You pushed up onto your hands, feeling the way each thrust made your breasts bounce back and forth. You couldn’t help any of the noises that were tumbling from your lips, your body just sinking into the buzz of pleasure and riding the waves. Again, you could feel the pressure building up inside you, like flames ready to explode. 

Emily’s hand made its way into your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking you upwards. Your back now pressed against her front, you could feel her rapid breathing and hardened nipples at your back, only fueling the fire inside you more. Her thrusts never slowed down, but managed to hit a deeper spot inside you. 

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ around my cock, baby.” A few more deep thrusts and you knew you were going to cum hard. 

Not wanting to disappoint Emily, you started to thrust back harder, trying to get her deeper inside you. Knowing you needed a little more, one of her hands traversed down your front, quickly finding your hardened nub and started rubbing fast circles in time with her thrusts. Her other hand went the opposite direction, sliding around your throat, gripping it tightly sending you into another harsh wave of euphoria. 

Emily’s lips made home on the side of your neck, licking and sucking, tasting the salty sweat that had accumulated there. “Be a good girl for mommy and cum for me, now.” 

Your entire body seized, a loud moan spewed from your mouth, continuing with each little drive of Emily’s hips against yours as she fucked you through the orgasm. Unable to hold yourself up, Emily lowered you gently to the bed, her hips slowing to a stop. She smoothed your hair away from your face, her breath coming out in puffs helping to cool you off some. 

Emily went to pull out of you, but the whine of protest left before she was even half way out. “Oh? What’s that, babygirl?” 

You tried to glance back at her, your eyes barely catching before you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I want you to cum inside me, Em.” You wiggled your hips back a little more, moaning as her cock went back inside your pulsating cunt. “Make me cum one more time, please,” you almost begged. 

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered, starting to slowly thrust into you again. Your body had had enough time to settle that you knew you could cum again, but you knew it was going to drain you. 

Laying down like you were, the pressure of both her cock and the plug inside you was even more pronounced. You tried to angle your hips up, tried to lift a leg and bend a knee to switch up the position, but you weren’t sure it was enough. You needed something different. 

Almost as if she was inside your head, Emily pulled out. Before you could protest much, she rolled over and dragged you on top of her. She helped you line up your cunt with her cock, and she moaned at watching you sink back down on it. 

You weren’t sure if you had the energy to do all of the work bouncing up and down, so you rolled your hips back and forth, watching as Emily’s face contorted in pleasure. With each forward roll of your hips, Emily’s eyes almost rolled back, and that’s when you realized part of the cock was inside her and each move you made could be felt inside her as well. 

Knowing Emily had a thing for your dirty mouth, you knew this was your turn to get her off. “Look at me, Em. Look how deep you are inside me.” 

Emily’s blown pupils met yours, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried not to fuck into you, letting you run the show. 

“You look so good under me, Em. I bet you’d look even better if I was the one fucking you.” 

Emily’s nostrils flared, her hands shooting up to grab your hips as her feet planted firmly on the mattress. “Next time.” One of her hands moved to the base of the strap, holding it as you rutted against it. “For now, I want you to cum hard on mommy’s cock like the good little whore you are.” 

You whimpered out a quick, “yes, mommy,” before grinding harder against her. Before you could get too invested in your pace, Emily’s hand that had been holding the cock pressed the button that made the vibrations come to life. 

Your mouth opened wide, your eyes just as big, as you felt the pleasure run through your entire body. 

Emily smirked up at you, almost sadistically, before starting to thrust up at you from below. You could tell that she was just as close as you were, the way her hands were gripping tighter to your hips. Emily’s own hips were moving at almost a break-neck pace, brushing your front wall and clit with each thrust out, and going deeper than before on each thrust in. 

This time, the pressure coiled in your lower belly, expanding outwards to all of your extremities, before coiling its way back into your torso. The vibrations seemed to match your rapid heart beat, as if you could feel each pulsating buzz in every one of your cells. Your head was tossed back, trying not to break as wave after wave brushed through you. 

You only came back to Earth when you felt Emily’s fingers start to rub your clit in time with the vibrations. You glanced down at her, captivated by her look of utter primal need, like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment. 

“Together,” she said. 

Fireworks. Volcanic eruption. The explosion of stars. 

You felt your cunt clamp down on the cock inside of it, Emily trying to continue to fuck you through each swell of pleasure, the pressure finally releasing with a gush of wetness as your body trembled with Emily’s. 

As the euphoria left both of you, you lowered your body to Emily’s trying to quell the tremors that were wreaking havoc on your system. 

Emily’s hands came up, holding you to her, smoothing over your back. Her lips found their way to the side of your face, peppering little kisses on any part of you they could reach. “Such a good girl for me, baby.” She continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you caught your breath. 

“Lets get cleaned up, hm? I’ll run us a bath?” 

You leaned up, catching her eyes. You could see all of the contentment and ecstasy in hers, but also the nervousness. As if you might leave any second. 

You smiled, leaning up to kiss her gently, trying to convey everything you were feeling. That this wasn’t a one time thing for you. That she wasn’t just a one off. “A bath sounds great.” 

Emily smiled back at you, twirling a piece of your hair with her fingers.  Now everyone including her was getting laid around here.

[moirindeclermont]

Day 11 of my Polin kinktober and today's prompts are as Polin as they gets: mirror and oral sex. Have fun with this one!!

She was looking at herself in the mirror, that morning. Colin stirred in the bed, and by her advantage point, she could see his sad expression at not having her near him as he woke up. She chuckled at that, Colin finding her eyes and smiling as if he saw the greatest thing he ever watched. After some time being married, it still took her breath away, that look.

He was up in no time, standing right next to her in front of the mirror too, kissing her neck slowly.

"Why my beautiful wife is here and not in bed with me?" He asked as she shivered from the contact.

She tried to avoid his gaze, because he would get to the bottom of it in no time.

"Pen. You can tell me what is wrong," he said and she took his hand in hers.

"I'm thinking about how I'll look in seven months. And if you're going to like me then..."

She worked hard on her insecurities, but some were more recurring in her mind. This one....with this news. It was a lot.

He looked at her, "why seven-" the realization hit him before he could finish the sentence and he went on his knees, looking at her stomach in awe. "Really love? Are you sure?" She nodded, pleased he was happy about it. He was shedding s tear and he could not stop smiling. This man... The way he found new ways to make her fall in love with him even after they were married.

Then, he seemed to remember what she said and looked at her.

"Pen, you know I'll like you seven montth from now."

His tone was certain, no doubts. He made her feel a little bit better.

Still on his knees, his hands went under the robe she had on, caressing her legs.

"Do you need a reminder of how much I'll like you?" She gasped and nodded, as desire and arousal sparkled in her.

"I'll remind you every day if needed. Pen, you don't know what it does to me the idea that you're carrying our child."

His hand now on her inner tights, teasing her.

"Bring the chair behind you here, so you can get comfortable," he whispered to her.

She look behind her and saw the chair of her vanity just in arms reach. Pen moved it, before sitting at the edge, Colin "helping" her by disrobing her. There was something akin to a Deja Vu to be in front of the mirror naked, again.

Colin adjusted his stance, for once she was the one who had to bend her neck to kiss him, as his hands went on her hips and her waist, grasping and groping in appreciation. She moaned in the kiss when his hands found her bosom, already tender.

"I can't wait to worship you daily or more, taking note of all your changes and loving you even more. You always says I'm too easy to excite... I'll tell you, Pen, you have seen nothing yet. Just the thought of seeing you round and full, ready to birth our child, makes me want to take you in five different ways."

She smirked at that, "let's start with one or two," she answered, not doubting his words for a second. She was a lucky woman indeed.

He seemed to think about it for a second, before sinking even further on his knees, and he opened her slowly, exposing her core for him.

"I think I want to taste you, my darling," he proposed to her and she nodded. "Keep looking at yourself in the mirror, I want you to see how beautiful and erotic you are when you come all over my face."

She gulped at that, as Colin wasted no time. His tomgue traced a familiar pattern on her most sensitive flesh, her head thrown back in pleasure.

"Eyes on the mirror, love" he reminded her as he started to lick her closer to her core. In the mirror, she saw the image of a gorgeous, sexy woman, taking her pleasure as her husband was satisfying her. Her mouth drop open in pleasure and she shivered from the sheer erotism of the image. Her hand went to his hair, to keep him in place, and when she saw her hands in his curls, her inner muscle tighten, making her moan in delight.

Colin was relentless.

Mouth and tongue in serving of her pleasure, as curious fingers explored her entrance. She needed more and she tried to move her hips, but he was keeping her in place. "Greedy girl," he said as he entered with two fingers at one. She was so wet she didn't even feel the stretch, as he started a rocking motion that made her breathless.

"Tell me you're gorgeous, and I'll make you come."

She was far beyond even thinking of resisting him.

"Fuck Colin. I'm gorgeous. I'm the most beautiful woman."

He licked and kissed her again, directly on her pearl, with a steady rhythm that was mimicked by his hands too. "Yes - Colin" she could only say as she was overcomed with her release.

He didn't waste time after that. He got it on his feet, make her standing still too, flipped the chair so its back was nearer the mirror, said "on your knees" to her, before going behind her and pusbing all the way in, making her moan loudly.

"Eyes on the mirror, Pen," he said again before starting thrusting.

Her bosom was heavy and moved everytime he pushed, and she could see her face lost in the throw of passion. His face too, as he grunted and moaned his pleasure. She gripped the chair with her hands, trying to steadying herself from the assault on her senses.

"You are gorgeous. And mine." He said, as she reached another peak, the sound of their act the only rumors in their bedroom.

"Yes- yes. Col-ah. I'm gorgeooous. And -ah oh god- yours. "

She tried to tell him as her release took her again. He made sure she could stand, before dropping a cushion on the floor. "I'm not done with you. On your knees, my gorgeous wife," he said and, a moment after, Pen had her hands full.

"I want to come on your amazing body, love. Can you do that for me?" She nodded, drunk on him, as she took him in her hands and mouth. He didn't even had to ask her to watch the mirror. She was doing it on her own.

Watching herself pleasuring her husband made her feel even more beautiful, powerful and desirable.

Colin found his release on her bosom, knelling the down near her to lick her clear, sucking her sensible nipples in his mouth. Then, he looked at the mirror.

"You are still the cleverest, bravest woman I've ever seen. You are also the most gorgeous. And I can't ask for a better morning than spending it with my wife and our unborn child." Then he dropped a kiss on her stomach.

"Welcome, little one."

He said with the cutest voice Pen had ever heard. "I love you, Colin Bridgerton."

He kissed her again, his taste on him still.

"And I love you too, Penelope Bridgerton. My gorgeous wife."

They spent that day in bed, making plans about their child and imagining their next months together.

Pen could not wait for them to come sooner.

[rea-grimm]

Sleep protector Jinbe

After school, you went straight to work and managed to find a job at the local aquarium, which was one of the biggest and nicest in the country. You loved it here as a kid and you love it here now. 

But now you started working there, not as a tour guide or in the gift shop or as a caregiver and similar day jobs, no. You got a job as a night guard.

It was something completely new for you because you had to adjust your sleeping pattern to it. You never minded staying up late, but never until the very early hours of the morning, and that too regularly every day in a row. Plus, you had trouble sleeping during the day, but you had no choice. 

You didn't sleep well and even when you tried sleeping pills, you had to give them up because they didn't suit you and only made you feel worse. They left you groggy and unable to work properly and you nearly fell asleep at work.

You had regular rounds where you didn't just sit in the office behind the cameras, but you made regular rounds of all the entrances. Some sections were magical in the dark, but others were terrifying.

One was a section that contained some rather creepy fish and creatures, along with one creature that had a nickname as a local monster that no one had ever seen properly, but which appeared as a ghost and disappeared again to god knows where. 

Your sleep problem was still there, but you were somehow able to function with circles under your eyes and a very poor sleeping pattern. At work, you sometimes worry about giving yourself a heart attack from drinking one coffee after another, alternating it with an energy drink.

You were getting ready for your next night shift when you saw the kindergartner finishing their field trip at the aquarium. Among the kids, you saw your little niece, who immediately started waving at you when she noticed you. You walked over to her and she immediately ran over to you so she could hug you.

"Look what we got." She smiled at you and showed you a teddy bear that was sort of a combination of a teddy bear and a whale shark. 

"He's very cute," you complimented her. 

"You think so? It's for you! He's so cute, I'm sure he'll make you sleep better and protect you. He'll be there to help you and keep you company so you won't be scared to be alone," she said, stuffing the bear into your arms. 

You wanted to give it back to her, but her teacher had already started leading them on. So you ruffled her hair, thanked her for the teddy bear, said goodbye, and sent her to the others so they wouldn't run away.

You took the teddy bear and walked it over to the security office where you relieved the day shift. 

"Nice teddy bear," smiled an elderly colleague who vacated your chair and was about to go home.

"Thanks, he's another addition to the night watch," you laughed lightly. 

You sat down at your desk, checking the cameras before looking at the teddy bear. You picked him up and stroked his short blue fur. The teddy bear had clear signs of a whale shark, with white spots on its back. He was wearing an orange robe and had black fur on his head. In addition, large bottom fangs peeked out of his mouth and he had a red sun mark on his chest.

You had no idea what exactly the stuffed animal was supposed to represent, and you even thought it was the dreaded sea monster aquarium, but that didn't seem likely. Plus, it was quite cute and, as your niece said, the teddy bear was soft and nice to touch. In the end, you decided to keep the bear. 

You hugged it and put your head on it and you thought the teddy smelled like the sea itself, but in a nice way.

Your night shift went by pretty quickly that day, and you didn't even have to pour that much caffeine into yourself. After changing with the next patrol, you went straight home with the teddy bear in your bag. 

You changed, took a quick shower, and fell into bed. After a long time, you fell asleep almost immediately with the teddy bear in your hand.

In your dream, you were in a dark building that felt like a giant maze in which nightmares haunted you. After a while, the walls turned to glass, with dark water on the other side, in which you saw scary, almost grotesque fish that sent shivers down your spine. 

You came to a crossroads where you saw a giant shark with a mouth full of sharp teeth swimming towards you in the transparent wall. It looked like it was swimming through the glass wall and heading towards you. 

Automatically, you reached for the gun you kept on your belt while you worked, but there was nothing there. Plus, you felt like your feet were frozen to the ground and you couldn't get away. You wanted to duck so the shark would miss you when someone else appeared. 

He jumped in front of you and hit the shark with such force that it shattered like a sheet of glass into shards that shattered on the ground. The surrounding labyrinth dissolved in the same way, and now you were on the beach of an exotic island where the sun was shining, warming your soul. 

Your rescuer was much larger than you, had blue skin and looked like a combination of man and fish, or rather a whale shark. When you looked at him, you realized he looked like a teddy bear. 

Fish-man made sure you were okay and wanted to make sure you weren't hurt in any way. You were sure he introduced himself to you afterwards, but all you remembered was that he was your protector.

He took you on adventures in your dreams and you even had relaxing moments with him. You visited all sorts of islands and he even took you underwater when you were in a giant bubble and he swam around and showed you everything. 

It was strange to wake up full of energy and strength. You felt surprisingly good and still had plenty of time to yourself before it was time to go to work. 

From that day on you slept much better and you also clearly cut down on caffeine consumption and felt better. You even stopped being afraid of the sea monster at work and the shadows the exposures cast. You were calmer and more focused. Plus, you started to look forward to work more and more. And now you weren't alone. You always brought a stuffed animal with you. 

From that day on, your fish guardian began to teach you karate in your dreams, which you envied. You admired his talent and always watched him practice or show you some kind of moves.

In addition, he thought that karate would be useful in your new profession when you couldn't rely on your weapon and that you would be able to defend yourself better. 

It was almost surprising to you that even though he taught you in your dreams, you knew the moves in the real, waking world when you tried to imitate them. Sometimes you found yourself repeating the moves when you were alone at work away from the cameras. 

One night on your watch, you had your first incident. Some troublemakers got in through one of the side doors and were walking the halls with bottles of alcohol. 

They were making a terrible racket and it wasn't difficult to figure out what part of the aquarium they were in. Plus, they were leaving a trail of garbage behind them. 

You reported it and went to chase them away, they had no business being there. At first, you warned them to leave quietly, but they didn't listen to you but rather made fun of you. One of them was so drunk he had the nerve to attack you. 

At that moment, you finally used karate and easily pacified the rioters. You handcuffed them and then handed them over to the police.

For this act you earned praise and as a gift from the aquarium management you were given a seaside holiday in a five-star hotel with all the luxuries available there. 

You enjoyed your holiday to the full and for the first time in a long time, you could sleep at night, which was a strange feeling at first. But you soon got used to it. You even had your stuffed animal with you for good luck.

You decided to use one day to go snorkelling at the coral, which was right on the beach next to the hotel. You swam and looked at the life underwater, completely forgetting how far you had gotten from shore. 

Something flashed in front of you, you thought it was a cuttlefish, but when you lifted your head to watch it, you were startled as a shark swam right in front of you. You panicked and had no idea what to do. You were frozen in place.

You feared that was the end of you as someone pulled you aside with a great force and like a torpedo, you were led to the shore. The speed almost took your breath away and water rushed into your glasses. Someone pulled you out onto the sand. You ripped your glasses off your face and splashed the water you accidentally drank. 

"Are you okay?" A familiar voice echoed, and someone put a large hand on your back, their touch soothing. 

"Jinbe?" You asked, your voice hoarse with surprise from the way you were still coughing. You squinted at the fish-man as salt burned your eyes before you hugged him. You felt like it was a very vivid dream. When you closed your eyes, you could still see the shark's teeth in front of you. "I was so scared..." you said. 

"You don't have to be scared. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm your protector," he said, stroking your back.

"Thank you," you whispered, kissing his cheek before burying your face into his shoulder.

Sleep Protector Masterlist

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 444: Gala, p2

I’d been herded out of my apartment by the two girls, hurried down the little spiral staircase, and all but carried through Melissa’s office and then the waiting room. I could hear the party on the other side of the door, classical string music and the sounds of a large  crowd drifting through; it was clear that the gala in the atrium was already in full swing. . I felt my anxiety spike and my mouth went dry as Lexi and Katie took a moment to adjust the tie and lapels of my rented suit. They each gave me a big smile and kissed me on the top of the head before opening the door and pushing me out, trembling, ahead of them. 

I couldn’t help but gasp - though the sound of my breath was lost in the cacophony of the party - as I looked out into the grand new space. It dwarfed our old offices in scale and splendor, and, though I had already seen it earlier today, I couldn’t help but marvel at it again. Huge and soaring, done in warm white stone for its walls, floors and columns, it made me feel like I was entering some glorious temple. And if it was a place of worship, its deity was Woman. The enormous stone statue of the goddess, a distance to my right, now stood watching dominion over her throng of partygoers at her feet, all of whom were done up in their celebratory best. Rather than lit from above by sunlight through the glass ceiling, she was now bathed in dramatic lighting from below and from sconces on the walls. She loomed above all like some great protectress in her robes and majestic beauty…

…and looked exactly like Melissa, despite what everyone was trying to tell me. 

Though my knees nearly buckled, as they had when I took my first sight of her this afternoon, I had the wherewithal to quickly gather myself and try to enter the party unnoticed. I spotted a large potted tree aside a tall stone column that I knew could probably hide behind and began to make my way  towards it when I was suddenly stopped from behind by Lexi’s hand to my right shoulder, then Katie’s on my left.

“Ladies..!!” Lexi announced, over the romantic expressiveness of the string quartet, “here he is, the man you’ve all been waiting for!!!”

I was immediately overwhelmed. Eyes, too many eyes, were  on me.  Cameras, flashing, giggles, and gasps made me instinctively shrink backwards, lost in my new confusion. At first, I didn’t recognize any faces. I felt small, vulnerable, unprotected, and I was suddenly happy for the two girls with their hands firmly on my shoulders, their strong presences behind me. Without Melissa near me I palpably needed them, their magnetism a necessary substitute for her solid solace. They felt like my protectors, the others surrounding me felt like…others. 

With the flashes going off, both Lexi and Katie  beamed with their biggest, most camera-ready smiles. I, on the other hand, winced with every flash as I imagined what every photo would look like: a shrunken,  humiliated twerp cowering before two gorgeous Amazons.The image made me try my best to keep some semblance of a grin. I hoped my discomfort wasn’t too noticeable.

<flash>

<flash> <flash> 

My weak eyes couldn’t take it. 

<flash> 

I started to feel really nervous. 

<flash><flash>

But my rictus brightened a bit when I saw two new faces - ones I counted as friends now, like family, reinforcements here to save me - pushing through the throng, coming in to join us...

It was Randi and Marisela, each in nearly matching black dresses, each with a champagne flute in their hands and each now standing between me and the cameras. At my height I had a good view of their bare, well-muscled upper backs: Randi’s smooth skin a tanned olive, Marisela’s more pale framed and decorated by a number of tattoos, which seemed to direct the gaze towards something. My eyes focused in on Marisela’s back, following the intricate patterns as the two both smiled, patiently indulging the cameras, at least for the moment. 

“Okay okay okay guys,” Randi said, loudly, addressing the photographers and other randoms who seemed to want pictures of me. Marisela had her hand raised, absentmindedly rolling her shoulders and giving me the briefest glimpse of some kind of marks - not tattoos - on her shoulder blades. Is that some kind of scar tissue? Marisela kept them all at a distance as Randi continued. “We talked about this. We know everyone wants their piece of shortstuff here for the morning edition, but his photo ops are later,” she directed, “Leave him alone until Melissa gets here.”

Lexi had taken her hand from my shoulder, and stepped forward to help handle the press in her duties as our event coordinator. With Randi and Marisela forming my human shield, and Katie’s warm body now fully behind me, I’d begun to feel a bit more sheltered and protected from the ‘others’. Being a four-and-a-half foot man in a normal-sized world could be scary at times, but with these women around me I felt strangely safe. 

Lexi took charge, apparently unwilling to let this opportunity go to waste. She turned on the charm and stood at the head of the throng of camera people. “Hey c'mon,” she said, addressing Randi, and then turning back to the crowd, “they’ve waited all night for this, pictures of all of us together.” At that, Lexi flashed her best megawatt smile, stood tall and thrust her chest out for the cameras. In her red slip of a dress, her figure was arresting. “Science is so fake, isn't it guys?” she brightly asked the cameras, which all now exploded in a burst of flashes, “saying the hottest thing is the sun….” She tossed her brown hair, smiled even wider. “…when we all know it’s actually Far Horizons girls.”

More flashes followed, and some tolerant smiles from Randi, Marisela and Katie. 

“Why don’t we let them have a few shots, of all of us with him?” Lexi offered. Her suggestion came with a turn of her head and a conciliatory smile, and between the other girls and her I could already sense some growing tension, “Before Melissa gets here we can-“

“Nope,” Marisela interjected, dryly putting a stop to Lexi’s appeasement plan and pulling even tighter to Randi’s side, effectively blocking me from the cameras entirely. There was a dark threat in Marisela’s energy, a cold, latent violence; I could feel it shiver my bones and the photographers could, too. They all backed away a step, the male photographers retreating noticeably more. 

“Later,”  Randi added, with finality, “When Missy arrives.”

Lexi had some argument in her, but all it took was another glance from Randi and a glare of Marisela’s, and she begrudgingly turned away from us, now ushering the throng away. “C’mon, guys,” I could hear her say to her charges as she left, “let’s go take some pictures of the new mayor under the statue…”

There was a pause, as Katie, Randi and Marisela watched the crowd disperse, the party falling back into its previous rhythm, the entrance of the midget-man (ie: me) seemingly forgotten, at least for the moment. Katie’s vigilant grip on my shoulders began to relax, and Randi and Marisela turned their attention down towards me. 

Suddenly, rather than safe, I felt surrounded…but also like I should thank them. 

“Th-thanks, guys,” I said, looking up at Marisela and Randi, “they were really annoying.”

“No worries, we got you baby,” Randi answered, a funny hint of something almost maternal mixed into her smoky, normally acerbic tone.

Katie pulled me in tighter, holding my head back against her firm breasts. The black-haired Marisela bit her lip. 

“So, how do we look?” Randi asked, her dark eyes glittering down on me while Marisela’s blue gaze gleamed. All three of these young women silently compelled me to ogle their bodies and, at the same time, daring me to try and look away. 

They knew, of course, my eyes had a mind of their own, and I predictably goggled as I took in their figures. I knew, by this point, that I should no longer be surprised by the sight.

“We didn’t do this on purpose, I swear,”” Marisela offered dryly, “wear the exact same thing.” 

“Yeah I knew I should have worn my blue dress,” Randi agreed, in her smoky tone. 

“Aw I think you two look cute, like twinsies,” Katie giggled. 

It wasn’t, though, the fact that Randi and Marisela were wearing the same dress that had made my eyes gawk. Yes, I’d fallen in love with Melissa’s incredible, impossible figure, which frankly transcended theirs, but that did nothing to make their curves any less phenomenal. Their tight black dresses may very well have been painted on, with plunging bustlines held to hug their big bosoms by the thinnest of straps resting elegantly on their shoulders. Arms were left entirely exposed, revealing expanses of perfect skin and, on Marisela, a collection of tattoos. Slits ran down both side of their skirts, clearly to show off the perfect thighs, calves and ankles of their astoundingly well-developed legs, legs which showed wonderful in their high-heeled shoes. 

“So who wears it better?” Randi asked in her signature tone, sardonic

“Uhhhh…” I began, unsure of how to navigate this obvious trap.

“You don’t have to answer that, cutie,” Katie assured me from behind, “that’s a trick question.” 

“Well I think you both look gorgeous…” came the voice of a newcomer, a brown haired woman in her thirties, looking lovely in a white dress and hair done in elegant rings which called up a retro style. I knew I recognized h- Yes! Abby. Abby Sol-i-something. Sales rep for Evolution and a friend of Melissa. She’d sidled up to the four of us and now stood alongside Randi. “Hi Katie, Randi and…Marisela, right?”

“Yeah,” Marisela drawled, “hi.”

“Well, thanks for getting rid of all those cameras,” Abby lauded, “they’re as bad as paparazzi!”

I’d known Melissa and Abby had been friends for a couple of years, though to hear Melissa tell it Abby wasn’t nearly as much a part of the group as Randi, Shanette, and some of the others. It explained, though, how she knew Randi and Katie better than Marisela. 

Then she looked at me. Though she was not as tall as any of my employees here, she still peered down at me from more than a foot above. “And - oh! - I barely saw you there!” she laughed, “Hi Dr J., nice to see you again!”

“Y-you too,” I agreed. 

“Though - wow - there’s so much less of you, isn’t there?” she chuckled, casting an observant eye up and down me, from head-to-toe. “How tall is he, Randi?” Abby asked. 

“Tell her, little guy,” Randi said, her smirk from above me clearly belying her amusement - but also something else. She and Marisela had swooped in to save me from the others, and now we were among friends - right? Or did I sense some more tension here?

“I’m…uh…”

“Say it, Dr. J,” Katie urged me, from behind.  

“I’m…four-seven,” I admitted, face flushing. 

“Whoah, for real?!” Abby gushed, eyes widening, “And you used to be…?”

I swallowed, dryly, trying to put it together. I could barely believe it myself. 

“It’s okay, Dr. J,” someone said, “you can tell her.”

“I used to be five-eleven.”

“WOW that’s…amazing!” Abby raved, something going on behind her eyes that I couldn’t quite read. “And…are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Uhhh…” How do I feel? Shrunken? Withered? Weak? Sidelined, pushed aside? At times befuddled, confused? Could I admit to all these things, to this woman, here at a party? “I feel…okay.”

“Do you know what’s happening?” Abby continued, voyeuristically curious but also with that same, strange something that belied some other interest, “Like, a diagnosis?”

“Umm-”

“Because if we could bottle it up, whatever it is that’s doing this to you,” Abby continued, half in jest but also not, “Girls would love it! My job would be so easy! Evolution would make billions!”

“Not happy enough that this new Product is going to help enhance women,” Marisela chimed in, “sort of like Melissa’s doing to us?”

“Yeah now you’d want to shrink the men? Like Nexifem is learning how to do?” Randi suggested, referring to the demonstration on that talk show where some guy had been reduced to doll-size - though I’d heard the expense was currently astronomical, and there were even rumors that it wasn’t real, just some sort of camera trickery. Even so, it was frightening.  “And put it in a pill…?” she mused, “it’s an appealing thought…”

“Yeah he is turning into such a cutie,” Katie purred. Her breasts were still warm softness behind me and I felt her embrace become more enveloping. “Everyone should have one.”

“Omigod imagine!” Abby laughed, “I’d love to be able to sit my boyfriend on my lap like Missy must do to him.”

“She carries him around on her hip sometimes,” Randi said, “You should see it.” She glanced over Abby’s shoulder. “So, is your boyfriend here?”

“No, I left him home, I don’t think he could handle this thing,” Abby answered, just as a server came up to us with a tray of champagne glasses. Each lady began trading their empty glass for a fresh one. “All these gorgeous women would freak him out,” Abby continued, taking her first sip, “plus he’s got my laundry to do.”

When I reached for a glass, Katie stayed my hand. 

“Not tonight, sweetie,” she told me. 

“Yeah, in fact,” Randi spoke up, addressing the server, “Can we get a glass of milk, for this guy here? Make sure to warm it up.” 

I flushed again. How far was this going? Had I been this reduced? That I needed someone else to order warm milk for me where everyone else was drinking champagne and cocktails?

The server had left before Abby started speaking again. “I love how you all take care of him,” she said, “it’s pretty adorable.”

“Yeah, one big happy fucking family,” Randi drawled. 

“Emphasis on the ‘fucking’,” added Marisela, dryly, downing her champagne in one go. 

“Well, I know Missy loves being supported by powerful women,” Abby said, eyeing Marisela with a wary gaze, “and I understand you guys are all-”

“Turning into superheroes?” Marisela spoke, without a hint of jest. 

“Well, I uh-“ Abby began. 

“Don’t believe everything you hear…” Marisela finished dismissively, before turning on her spiked heel. “I’m going to go find Lakshmi,” she said, and then flew off…

=============================================

thanks to RiF for not only his editing, but in helping upscale the first image. And, oh yeah, Beetlebomb for helping build the statue....more of her to come :)

[applebuttercringe]

Arcane Episode 6 Immediate Thoughts

Spoilers

-Give me the doomed Jayvik content, I'm ready. Jayce is an off the wall murderer hell bent on destroying Arcane and Viktor is the new Herald of the Arcane.

-Viktor is a full on magical girl transformation dimension. The floating and glowing, start patterns, glowing hair.

-Huh

-So Viktor is straight up God?

-This Caitlyn training scene is dope

-OOOH they're gonna go to Viktor to cure Vander. Thats a cool way to tie all these stories together. I wonder if any of them will recognize Viktor. Did Caitlyn or Jayce tell Vi about him?

-Look at Jinx's face, she does not give a fuck about Vi and Hucks stand off.

-Man the council didn't know shit, Viktor should have been in charge this whole time.

-Man Jayce is gonna show up and destroy it. 🥺

-HAHAHAHAHA VIKTOR IS SO JESUS, the long hair, the robe, the staff.

-Viktor has his original eye color in the Hexcore universe.

-cookie

-Even Jinx knows Viktor is a straight up snack.

-Fortune cookies are canon? What Americanized Chinese food restaraunt is Jinx going to? Is there a Panda Express in Zaun?

-Viktors Steel Oasis is realized

-Oh hey it's the kind of plant that he experimented on the hexcore with

-So is this real Sky and we were all wrong in thinking the Hexcore was just using her image?

-Does this take several days? How long is it taking Jayce to come to the undercity? He seemed in a hurry when we last saw him.

-I don't care if these animatic style visuals are the result of a mismanaged budget. Arcane's 2d music video style visuals are so good when you aren't being told they are just for cost saving.

-"We"

-This is nice, this is what I wanted for Thor and Loki

-Singed has a Vander tracking compass. Like the Vampire compass in Vampire Diaries.

-Does Caitlyn know the Herald is Viktor? How will she react?

-Ooh the Singed-Viktor reunion!

-Why is Viktors voice more metallic than before?

-"Evolution has a destination" I mean technically no, you're a scientist Viktor c'mon. Thats a common misconception.

-GLORIOUS EVOLUTION MENTIONED

-And he had the voice distortion when he said it, this is the desire of the Hexcore not of him?

-Is Viktor dating a ghost?

-OH DAMN, the Caitvi reunion is a violent one. Not looking good for the Caitvi stans, or the future of this ship. They're doing a Catradora.

-Caitlyn is a dictator who is offended by being called a mongoose, and by her ex-gfs new style. Be glad she didn't get bangs Caitlyn.

-"Cupcake"

-Ambessa eating an entire raw meat hunk with her hands.

-Oh damn, the betrayal.

-HOLY SHIT JAYCE, ITS HAPPENING, IM NOT READY!

-The music, is this the start of the inevitable end of a three episode arc music montage fight scene that cuts between the plot points while a pop-rock song plays?

-SPIT ON HER

-Oh no, this is the sweet conversation that happens to make everything happy so they can rip it away by killing one of the characters isn't it? Is Isha gonna die soon?

-OH, the Caitvi reveal! Caitlyn did a good! Nice. All it took was to be in her ex-gfs presence one more time and she completely flipped. Poor Maddie.

-The blind fold is kinda kinky tbh

-is Caitlyn gonna see Jayce? Will they talk? Has Caitlyn seen Viktor?

-Now Jayce has a leg brace, my how the turn tables. I little ableist maybe that a leg brace is used to show who is powerless in the dynamic but still.

-I wish we knew more about what Jayce went through, or how long the time skip is, to have context. C'mon writers what was it?

-Once again Jayce is about to nuke a child with the Hex Hammer

-Is Jayce gonna come be healed?!

-The come to Jesus music when he goes to meet Viktor.

-Viktor is the Avatar, or a Jedi

-Caitlyn will be saved by Jinx! Will this cause another snap change in her alignment. Who knows!

-Its honestly shocking this is the first time someone has tried just grabbing her uber long hair in a fight.

-JAYCE NUKED VIKTOR!

-IS HE DEAD! MY BLORBO! JAYCE YOU BITCH!

-UNREAL

-Vander is crying lava?

-No Viktor Jayce is the reason your commune failed.

-Jinx crying on the floor after being struck by a loved one like when she was a child.

-Aw this is cute

-Isha better not die, don't you dare show. Don't you DARE.

-They did!

-They killed Viktor and Isha in one episode, Now Caitlyn is just chill with both Vi and Jinx, why. Awful. How dare they. First genuinely bad episode.

Final thoughts: AAAAAAAAAH! I'm actually mad. They killed Isha, they killed Viktor. Both in dumb and unnessecary ways. Jayce's motivations have not been explored in any depth or meaningful way this season which would justify the story move. I was fully ready to call this a flawed but good show till the second half of this episode. I think this arc release will genuinely divide the fandom. Beginning of the end. Oof. Sorry boys. Arcane is Fumbled.

Let me in the writers room, I just wanna talk.

[teecupangel]

i read this fic where bayek becomes desmond's father and it got me thinking that he'd make such a great father for our stabby bois with daddy-issues hahahaha best founding father ever

Bayek found them by accident.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Senu found them while he was connected to her. He felt her take over and Bayek had been surprised.

The only time Senu had ever taken over when Bayek was connected to her was when she noticed that Khemu had been a babe and had gotten out of the house without anyone realizing it.

That was the reason why Bayek knew that it was important to let Senu take control.

And she showed them to him.

Four children, the oldest being perhaps ten or nine years old while the youngest could have only been a few months old.

They all wore simple white robes, the whiteness having been dulled by dirt. The oldest held the small baby in his arms, glaring at Bayek with golden eyes.

They all looked quite similar to one another, especially the two oldest boys so Bayek had assumed they were brothers.

… and orphans.

The oldest boy was the one to answer all his questions but he only gave out his name.

Altaïr.

They were staying in a rickety house that looked abandoned and Bayek couldn’t help but be worried. He had been in the area to help build the bureau so he had asked the two Hidden Ones stationed there if they could keep an eye on the children.

“What children are you talking about, Amun?”

.

What children?

That questioned plagued Bayek.

They have not seen any orphans around the area, they said.

And Bayek believed them.

No.

It was more accurate to say…

He believed that they didn’t see any children.

Which meant that these children were able to stay out of their way for many months now.

Perhaps even years.

Bayek visited them once more, bringing a basket filled with fresh baked bread.

But they weren’t in the house.

Connecting with Senu proved to be the right call.

Bayek could not find them but he knew Senu saw them when she took over their connection once more.

They had moved into another abandoned house…

And it seemed that they were not surprised when Bayek entered their new home.

The oldest of them simply looked annoyed.

Bayek knew that his intrusion was not welcomed so he simply left after placing the basket in the middle of the room.

The following day, he checked with Senu once more.

And, as he had guessed, the children had changed home once more.

It truly says a lot about the current situation here that there were many abandoned buildings and homes that four small children could use without anyone knowing.

He brought them food once more.

But this time, he also brought fresh goat milk.

And left with the feeling of those golden eyes glaring at his back.

.

This went on for weeks.

Bayek always made time to bring the children food wherever they go.

At some point, they started to return to their previous locations but never in the same pattern…

It was always random.

And Bayek found himself smiling when he saw them wearing the clothes he had bought for them. Just as simple as their white robes but cleaner.

The baby that was usually in one of the older children’s arms would even wave his hand at him as if to greet him.

And he finally learned the other boys’ names.

Ezio was the second oldest and was the one who talked to Bayek with a lighter tone than his older brother. His name and his smile made Bayek remember Esio but that boy was in Rome right now, being trained to be a Hidden One by Aya.

The third oldest boy was named Ratonhnhaké:ton and he was usually quiet. The first few times Bayek had problem saying his name, he had suggested to just call him Connor but Bayek could see the annoyance in Altaïr’s eyes and the frown decorating Ezio’s face. As well as the understanding and resignation in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s face. So Bayek never called him Connor. The first time he was able to say Ratonhnhaké:ton’s name without messing up, Ratonhnhaké:ton looked surprised for a brief moment before he smiled at Bayek for the very first time.

The youngest of them was Desmond and he’s always being carried by one of his brothers. They were protective of the child, perhaps a bit too overprotective in Bayek’s eyes, to be honest. But Desmond was a quiet baby and Bayek had wondered if perhaps the baby could not talk but he would make cooing sounds and babble softly at times.

It was like…

Desmond was taught to be quiet.

They all were.

.

“Altaïr…”

Altaïr turned to look at the entrance of their 16th safehouse and nodded as he greeted back, “Bayek.”

The old man who had continually followed them no matter how many times they changed safehouses stayed at the other side of the small hole, crouching so he could see inside.

“Ba! Ba!” Desmond waved his hands at Bayek and Altaïr kept his hold on the baby firmly, knowing that, given a chance, Desmond would crawl towards the old man. Desmond had been crawling all over and all of them had been worried that he’d hit his head on something.

“Where’s Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

“Out.” Altaïr replied vaguely. He knew the old man knew how they would steal food and other items they need from the richer part of the city and always had that small frown whenever Altaïr made vague comments concerning their lifestyle.

It wasn’t like the daily food would be enough for them, after all.

And Desmond needed more than just goat milk.

“I will be leaving tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“If it’s alright with you four, I-”

“We’re not joining your cult.” Altaïr cut him off as he dangled a bell in front of Desmond.

Desmond giggled and grabbed the bell, successfully getting distracted from crawling towards Bayek.

“It’s not a cult.” Bayek sighed and Altaïr didn’t bother to tell him they knew that. They just enjoyed calling it a cult even if it wasn’t true.

“And I know you four have been playing tricks on them.” Bayek said, trying to not sound like he was scolding Altaïr. The two Hidden Ones had been the target of harmless pranks for months now, including a very memorable incident where Ezio had actually managed to steal their coin purses that he returned to them… in the bureau after he and Ratonhnhaké:ton had sneaked in.

But Bayek could not afford himself to get distracted.

He was here on an important mission after all.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that you stayed in the bureau. I was going to ask…” Bayek stared at Altaïr as he asked, “… would you four like to join me in my travels?”

Altaïr stared at him for a moment before he looked away as he said, “I’ll talk to my brothers about it.”

Bayek’s lips curved into a small smile, already knowing that would be Altaïr’s answer, “Then… I will be leaving at dawn. I will wait in the east gate.”

He pushed the basket of food into the hole before leaving, knowing Altaïr would simply find it annoying if he was to try and plead his case.

All he could was hope.

And wait for tomorrow.

.

I think the fic nonny is talking about is Haris by CherShare. Do give it a try if you’re interested.

[serstolas]

Thursday Bangers

Got another tag on this week from the lovely @serensama and had this rattling around in my head so here.

This week's lyrics are

No matter what happens, he cannot come between us again I know we're better than friends- Million Dollar Baby by Tommy Richman

Anders/FHawke

“Damnit, Vengeance.” Hawke’s eyes were hard as she glared at the spirit inhabiting Anders’ body. She would have thought Kirkwall would have satisfied the spirit. It had started a revolution. The Circles all over Thedas were rising up against the Templars.

She didn’t know if this was the right way to do it, but it was too late to go back. She’d made the decision not to kill Anders the night the Chantry had been destroyed and she’d stayed by his side when he went into hiding. She knew if the Templars or the Chantry got their hands on him, Anders was a dead man.

“You said you accepted us,” Vengeance replied, striding towards her. “You said you would be with us as we are.”

“I said I would be with ANDERS the way he is,” Hawke snarled. “He is not your toy, Vengeance. He is not someone for you to just shove aside and and use his body as you please.”

“You don’t even understand the full extent of what he suffered, what he went through,” Vengeance hissed. “When he had doubts, I did what he could not.”

“I know you’re not talking about the Chantry,” Hawke’s eyes narrowed. “Anders stood by his convictions for that. What are you talking about?”

“The Wardens that hunted him,” Vengeance replied. “I took care of them when he faltered.”

Realization washed over her and she took a deep breath. “The Wardens that hunted him when he left. You killed them.”

“I took care of them when he faltered. Mercy is a weakness.”

“Mercy is why I stayed my hand that night, Vengeance,” she told him coldly. 

“You only spared him so he wouldn’t be a martyr,” Vengeance smirked at her. “You are a weakness, Marian Hawke, and I will rid him of any remaining weaknesses that hold him back.”

She threw the barrier up before Vengeance could strike and fade stepped away. She assumed Anders was fighting Justice for control within his body, but sometimes she wondered how hard he was really fighting.

No, Marian, she told herself, that isn’t fair. She had to believe in Anders, and believe the love he told her he felt was enough.

Electricity sparked from Vengeance as he came at her, trying to strike her down with lightning. She fade stepped away from each strike, trying to find the pattern in Vengeance's movements so she could take the strike that would hopefully bring Anders to the surface. 

She hated that she was probably going to have to hurt Anders to make him surface, but Vengeance had been growing stronger, since before Kirkwall. Would Anders lose that battle permanently some day?

She barely fade stepped in time against the last strike, and she knew she was going to have to risk it. As she materialized from the last fade step, she downed a lyrium potion and struck; a volley of ice slamming into Anders/Vengeance. She saw Anders/Vengeance flinch, the body experiencing real pain, then the blue flickered out, and finally vanished.

Anders groaned, rubbing his shoulder where the bolt of ice had hit him. He felt stiff, like he’d just been hit by a giant piece of hail. He pulled the edge of his robe back at the neck to reveal an ugly purple bruise. He looked up at Hawke in shock.

“What? Why?” He shook his head. “It was Vengeance, wasn’t it?” He looked crestfallen.

“Who else?” Hawke asked. She sighed, approaching him cautiously. “Did you hear him, Anders?”

“Mercy is a weakness,” he repeated the words the demon had spoken moments before. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry Marian.”

“You got control back this time, but not until I hurt you, Anders. What happens next time? What happens when he takes you over again?”

“If,” Anders sighed. “And I don’t know.”

Hawke shook her head sadly. “No Anders. Not if. When.”

[miss-madness67]

Married Woman (Ivar & Bjorn)

You find yourself attracted to a man that is not your husband. Worst of all, he loves you too.

The first time you saw him, you were instantly drawn to him. It was not because he is a son of Ragnar, you didn’t even know at the beginning. It was all himself. His broad shoulders and his blue eyes were quick to hypnotize you. The next thing you knew, you were in his bed. You could easily say that night was one of the best you spent with him. From then on, your relationship moved quite fast. He wanted to marry you, and you didn’t oppose. You married at Hedeby, his mother’s domain. You met him there when he came back from avenging his father in England. Your family just moved to the town in hopes to marry you. They were not disappointed when Bjorn Ironside took you as his. Not that you were complaining. Marrying a prince was more than you were expecting, considering that your parents are farmers.

“It’s really hard to be here and look at you, as though I’m not completely in love with you.”

The thread you were knitting breaks when you hear Ivar behind you. You stand up and turn to face him. He is by the door that leads to the hall. You take a quick look around the resting room, you are lucky it’s empty right now.

“Ivar, you know you can not say those things.” You scold, looking directly at him.

His gaze is so intense you have to look back at your knitting. You are making a robe for Bjorn. Lately, he has been a little distant. You think it is perhaps because you have yet to get pregnant. Yet, considering that you have not slept together in two weeks, it is a little hard to do so.

“It is the truth, should I lie, uhm?” he raises a brow mockingly.

You met Ivar a few months ago when Bjorn decided to come back to Kattegat for a while. You had just been married for a few weeks then, still, you instantly knew that Bjorn was not a man that stayed in one place. When you arrived at Kattegat, you also learned that you were not your husband’s first wife. Apparently, Torvi had just separated from him before he went to Hedeby. And he had another wife before her that disappeared.

You leave your knitting behind and walk to the other side of the room. “It is something you should not say to your brother’s wife,” you respond without glancing his way.

Ivar has always harbored feelings for you. They were not evident at first. He was just kinder to you than he was to everyone else. Then he started to get bolder, to the point that even Ubbe had noticed. Luckily, neither Queen Aslaug nor Bjorn suspected anything. You thought that perhaps if they knew, they would surely kick you out. Not that it was your fault Ivar felt that way, or that you have done anything with him. You have not.

You hear Ivar’s crutch as he approaches you. Your heart starts pounding rapidly inside your chest. Even if you have never done anything, you cannot deny how your body reacts to him. It is not that you do not have feelings for Bjorn anymore, it is just that what Ivar brings out in you is stronger. Ivar’s hand finds its way to your hip. His fingers delicately trace inconsistent patterns on your hip bone. Your skin burns to the contact in spite of the clothing in its way. You try desperately to control your breathing. He cannot know that his desire is reciprocated because if he does, you are scared of what he will do. You are scared you might do not want to stop him.

“My brother does not deserve you,” he whispers in your ear. “You know how he is. I’m sure Torvi has warned you he is quick to fall out of love.” She did warn you, but you refuse to believe it.

You try to step away, but he does not let you. “It is fine, once I am with child it will be fine.” you attempt to justify.

Your skin feels hot to the touch. You want to escape the feelings that Ivar causes in you, so you think that if you turn around, he will put distance between you. However, once your eyes clash with his, his hold on you tightens. You have never been this close to Ivar. For a moment, all of your rational thoughts leave your brain instantly. The only thing you can think of is his eyes. They are so unlike his brother’s. The shade is the same, yet they transmit something entirely different. They make you feel something completely new.

At that moment of insanity, you take a step towards him. Your senses drown in his presence. You feel you, yet you feel more. Your hand finds its way to his neck. He is taller than you and you love it. His chest clashes with yours and both your breaths mix. You do not know what you are doing, but it feels so right. It is like welcoming your lover after how long raid far from home. It is everything you wish you felt with Bjorn but never did.

“Once you are with me,” he murmurs on your lips, “it will be fine.”

You do not have time to process what is happening, or even to think. One moment he is looking at you like you are his whole life, and the next, he is eating you like you are the greatest feast ever served. His lips mold perfectly with yours. Your hands cup his neck exquisitely. His hand moves from your hip to your back, leaving a trace of fire on its path. Your tongues dance like never before, and you forget your name. It feels like, before this moment, you didn't truly know what happiness and passion were like.

You feel the hold on his crutch slightly wavering. You know that he is strong, yet he must be feeling lightheaded like you. You part from him momentarily, and he tries to follow your lips with his. You pay no mind and quickly locate a chair nearby. You push him towards it. He sits with a puzzled look on his face. Still, he easily knows what you are up to once you climb on his lap.

Your mouths take no time to find each other again. Now, both of his hands caress your sides and your back lovingly. Meanwhile, yours play with his braided hair. You wish it were loose so you could run your fingers through it. You move your hips involuntarily. That causes a moan to escape his mouth. If you were not aroused before, you are now. You continue with your movements so you can listen to the delicious sounds his mouth makes. It is until he places his hand in your left breast that you realize you are moaning too. Right now, you are not thinking that you are in a room where anyone could walk in. You are not thinking about Bjorn. Or the fact that you are kissing his brother.

A loud crash breaks the atmosphere instantly. In the doorway, a male thrall is standing with a surprised look on his face. At his feet, there is a jug with spilled mead. You quickly climb out of Ivar. The thrall turns away, apologizes, and scurries off. You do not try to go after him to prevent him from saying anything. You are too embarrassed to even glance at Ivar. The silence stretches for a moment.

“I…” before Ivar can say something else, you run out the door.

...

A few days go by. You have been ignoring Ivar ever since the kiss. You only talked when he told you that he took care of the thrall. You did not ask what he did, but you suspect it. A dead slave would not be questioned. In that short conversation, you only managed to nod and flee. The desire you feel for him is too great to simply ignore. Now that he knows he is reciprocated, he has been more persistent in his advances. It has made it nearly impossible to avoid him. Still, what you fear the most is that if you are in a room alone with him, all of your resolutions will be broken again. You fear Bjorn noticing your heart no longer belongs to him. You do not think he will hold it against you, but you still care for him. You do not want to break his heart.

On the other hand, some part of you believes it will not be broken. He has kept on being distant towards you. The night you kissed Ivar, you tried to sleep with him out of guilt. Your advances were stronger than the nights before, and he finally complied. It is safe to say that was the worst sex of your life. At first, he could not get it up, and then it was just not… satisfying. You had to conjure the image of his brother in your mind in order to finish. So, even more so than the neglecting, that was what made you think there could be another woman. Torvi had warned you, so had Ivar and Ubbe. You did not believe it then. Now you do.

As you follow Bjorn through the streets of Kattegat, some part of you wishes to be wrong. You do not want him to cheat on you, which is a bit hypocritical considering you kissed Ivar.

A woman crashes with you, and she murmurs insults your way. Nevertheless, when she looks at your face, she stops. Recognition flashes in her eyes. She smirks, apologizes, and then says something like "one of Ironside wives". The comment bothers you, not because that would make you second to other women in Bjorn's life, but because that means that you are not even memorable to the people of Kattegat. They think you will be gone soon, forgotten in the list of many wives. That you are just one of the many he will have. Still, you must not let it show that it bothered you, so you look down on her way and walk off.

The little encounter makes you lose sight of Bjorn. It takes you a while to find again his blond hair in the crowd. When you do, you see him entering a cabin on the outskirts of town. It was hard to trail him without him noticing, but now that you have seen where he went, you do not want to ruin it. You wait a few minutes at a safe distance, but no one comes inside. Slowly, you approach the place. Your heart is pounding rapidly, wondering what you will find.

The first thing you notice is the loud moans of a woman. That makes you freeze on the spot. Your head screams ‘I knew it’ but you need to see, to make sure. There is a crack in the wood near the door, you go near it. The hole is big enough to show you what is inside. From your spot, you have a direct view of the bed. You are not surprised by what you see.

Your husband, Bjorn, is bent over a woman laying in fours on the bed. You cannot see her face, but you distinguish blonde hair.  Bjorn is pounding rapidly into her. The cabin is filled with her moans and the obscene sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Bjorn groans above her. He grabs her by the hair, lifting her face, and that is when you recognize her. You have never talked with her, after all, she is merely a thrall. You think her name is Freydis. You remember her because she used to cling to Ivar until she realized he was not interested. Back then, you had been slightly jealous. Now, looking at your husband fuck her makes you feel… relief.

You had expected to drown in betrayal or heartbreak. None of that happens. Instead, it is then that you realize that you can be free about your feelings for Ivar. If Bjorn does not care about you any longer, then it does not matter that you are in love with another. You no longer have to remain loyal to him or feel guilty over a simple kiss. Especially with him fucking a slave for Odin knows how long. However, you crave closure. So while Bjorn is still pounding her cunt, you open the door noisily.

Your husband looks up from his task and stops abruptly. He says your name, shocked, and pushes Freydis away. The slave falls to the ground with a thud, but you do not spare a glance her way.

“I know now why you were distant,” you talk first.

He stands up and covers himself with the furs. “I…”

You do not let him talk. You have never seen Bjorn Ironside startled, yet it is your turn to express your feelings. “It is ok, Bjorn. I do not mind, nor do I feel betrayed. Everyone warned me this would happen. Tell me, do you still love me?”

He is even more surprised now. He looks down at Freydis and then at you. He seems embarrassed, though certain. It takes him a while to answer. “I am sorry. I still care about you, but not the way I used to.”

You nod in understanding. “It seems like the gods had put us together to derive our paths to someone else.”

For a moment, he appears confused. Then, a knowing smile overcomes his face. “Ivar, am I right?”

Now is your time to be startled. “How did you…”

He interrupts you. “He is not very subtle… The way he looks at you, I have never looked at anyone that way.” At least he is honest about not loving the thrall either. Then, he adds: “just be careful with him, yes? He is still Ivar The Boneless.” You both know what he means, but you are done listening to your now ex-husband. You nod at him and walk away.

Your body is buzzing with freedom inside your veins. The love and desire you feel for Ivar drives you to search for him. You know he must be in the forest right now, probably in the spot he showed you once; where he went to think. It is not very far from where you are now. You bypass half Kattegat and then scurry off into the woods. The hike seems endless, but it is the best one of your life. Your heart beats fast, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You have to control yourself before you meet him . You tell yourself that over and over again. And yet, when you see his back, you shout his name. He turns around and sees you.

He is confused, you can see it in his eyes, but when you sit in his lap and kiss him senselessly, he does not pull away. He places his hands on your face and pulls you closer. You know that you must explain everything to him. Tell him that you are no longer married, that your heart belongs to him, that you want with him what you could not with his brother. You want to tell him that and more, but for now, you express it in the kiss. And when he pulls away and looks into your eyes, you know he understands.

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Prologue: Waking Up in a Tadpole's Nightmare

A/N: Hello! This is just the prolouge so its sort of short, the actual first chapter I plan to post in a week or so! It depends because I'm writing a little christmas thing after the events of game so it may be the week after :). Basicly the story is how I see things went down in the game between my OC Durge Amaya and how they both fell in love 🎔

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is

WC: About 900

A/N again: I've only recently gotten into creative writing again in the past 5 years, until the last 5 years I used to write 1D fandfic's when I was 14-16 lol. So if there are any grammatical issues, spelling mistakes, or more, I'm very sorry!

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

Story:

Corpses littered the landscape, a grotesque carpet stretching as far as the eye could see. The earth was saturated with blood, the grass strewn with chunks of flesh like obscene ornaments. Above, the sky loomed a deep, foreboding crimson, as if it had absorbed the lifeblood of the millions massacred below.

Each step through the sodden grass sent lightning bolts of agony through her legs, up until her arms. Fever gripped her body, and sweat beaded on her skin despite the bitter wind. A thunderous laugh rolled across the sky, its echo piercing her skull. As her gaze dropped to the blood-soaked ground, certain bodies caught her attention- strangers whose faces tugged at her memory. One in particular made her heart stutter: an elf with silver curls. Tears spilled down her cheeks unbidden.

The vision twisted, and suddenly moonlight bathed Amaya's skin as she knelt in the middle of a dark forest. Through tear-blurred eyes, she saw an ethereal figure approaching- a pale elven woman with raven-black hair, dressed in white and midnight-blue robes adorned with silver patterns and moonstones. The woman's touch on Amaya's cheeks felt like moonlight made tangible, her warmth spreading like starlight through Amaya's body.

"I know you're scared," the woman whispered, her voice as gentle as a summer breeze, "but you are so much more than what he made you. Be who you are meant to be."

Before Amaya could speak, the woman dissolved into shimmering moondust. Her eyes snapped open to harsh reality- she lay sprawled in burning sand, the merciless sun beating down on her face.

Hours had passed since she'd crashed the mindflayer ship onto the Sword Coast. Pain pulsing behind her eye where the tadpole writhed. The beach around her was rather grim: bodies strewn across the sand, the nautiloid's wreckage still smoldering. As she sat in the hot sand, she grasped at the fragments of her identity- Amaya hadn’t a clue who she really was. She knew only a few simple details: her name was Amaya Othzál, she served as a cleric of Selûne, and she had to return to some place called Baldur’s Gate urgently. A place she believed she called home.

Rising unsteadily, Amaya approached the nearest corpse. A wave of nausea struck her, retreated, then returned with savage force as she touched the body. Her blood seemed to boil, and her lips twisted into an involuntary smile. Horrified, she tried to suppress these dark impulses, but her body rebelled. Pain sliced through her wrist as if carved by an invisible blade. The nausea intensified until she retched, her skull threatening to split from the pressure building within. Time stretched like taffy as she fought for control, each second an eternity until the episode passed.

Questions plagued her: what kind of person could she have been to smile so cruelly at a person who never should have died? Why was her body rejecting her so much when she rejected these sick thoughts? Was it the tadpole? Or was it something much worse? Her hands trembled as she collected a map and a few gold pieces from the corpse. With no answers forthcoming, she turned East, leaving her questions scattered in the bloody sand behind her.

-----

Astarion huddled in the shadows, a fugitive from the sun that should have burned him to ash. Confusion clouded his thoughts- he'd lain exposed to daylight for unknown hours, yet survived without the expected agony. He remembered a human woman on the beach, her words garbled in his memory like a broken music box. His instinctive flight had saved him when the nautiloid's monstrosities claimed her life.

From his hiding place among the wreckage, he watched the brain-creatures stalk their territory. Then a woman's soft, raspy voice cut through his deliberation, the familiar cadence of a speak-with-dead spell reaching his ears. He sneered at such foolishness- until her voice rang out again: "FLAGRA!" Radiant white magic flung from her fingertips, incinerating one of the brain-creatures instantly.

He watched, transfixed, as she dispatched the remaining monsters with brutal efficiency. Despite one of the brains clawing at her, she moved like a dancer, her daggers finding their marks with deadly precision. Recognition flickered in his mind- she'd been among the three women he'd glimpsed on the tentacled freaks ship while trapped in that accursed pod.

The tiefling captivated him. Her freckled skin, though pale, held warmth; dark curls escaped her ponytail to frame a face that could command attention with a single look. Those eyes- large and expressive- could doubtless bend the strongest will. Her horns set her apart from others of her kind, dark brown with tips that glowed like embers.

"A pretty little thing," he mused, imagining how Cazador would have coveted such a prize- rare enough to turn rather than merely drain. The more he looked at her something began to stir in his dead heart, a warmth he hadn't felt in centuries. He shook off the distraction, focusing instead on strategy. She was wounded, vulnerable- perfect for extracting information. Steeling himself against the sun's glare, he darted up the path, tracking her limping form as she made her way toward the Chionthar.

[greyias]

How are the Highwind's spending life day this year?

Well, now that you mention it... trying to finish their last minute shopping! I think it went a little something like this...

(In honor of my stupidest, annual Life Day tradition in-game. (1) (2) (3) featuring @grumpyhedgehog​‘s lovely Lyra Dorn)

There was a special place in the Void reserved for the kind of people who would force an innocent party into unpaid manual labor—actually, wasn’t there laws against that in the Republic? Draike Highwind briefly considered ratting out his stupid baby sister to the proper authorities for forcing him to play pack nerf for this stupid Life Day shopping trip, even if that was a karffing narc move. Deciding his honor was worth more than petty revenge, he squashed down the urge. For now.

He reluctantly trudged behind said baby sister, struggling to balance the weight of enough gifts to stock a small moon. He wasn’t sure if there was a gift here for every single person on Odessen, even the subcontractors that made brief fuel stops in the hangar bay, but from the way his shoulders ached from the strain, he wouldn’t count it out entirely.

Ahead of him, Grey almost seemed to bounce on her toes, a garish sight decked out in her ridiculous Life Day sweater. It was a red and green monstrosity, depicting what he thought might have been Wampas gleefully dancing across her chest. Possibly rampaging. It was hard to tell underneath the twinkling lights. He hadn’t realized Life Day sweaters now came electrified, but this one was lit up enough to guide a Star Destroyer in for a landing. If she got any more festive, she would probably combust into a shower of tinsel and holiday cheer.

It was almost a tempting enough thought for him to endure this torment for a few minutes longer. Almost.

She unfortunately fit right in with the rest of the Promenade here on Nar Shaddaa. While the garish statue of Karagga had been left alone in all of his gaudy, gilded glory, the rest of Lucent Square had been filled with gaudy decorations and festive revelers. Garlands draped haphazardly across vendor stalls, threatening to strangle unsuspecting shoppers, while some enterprising Hutt had decided to erect a towering holographic tree in the plaza. Its intangible branches featured tacky holographic ornaments of the Hutt crime lords who controlled this festive hellscape grinning at the shoppers spending all of their hard earned credits.

Humans, Rodians, and all sorts of other non-Wookiee species wandered about in Life Day robes, something Draike made a mental note to ask Bowdaar the level offensiveness and Wookiee cultural appropriation was happening here. At least, he was until he saw a group of actual Wookiee carolers nearby, the distant cries of them roaring their traditional Life Day songs making him grit his teeth.

He was a respectful captain, and would not compare the sound of his old crewmate’s beloved and deeply spiritual beliefs to grinding gears of a malfunctioning hyperdrive. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t secretly wishing that maybe the job on Nar Kreeta hadn’t actually made him go deaf.

However, that did not excuse the repurposed protocol droids wandering around the place, accosting everyone with good cheer. He thought he’d overheard someone referring to them as gift droids, but if they’d been giving out gifts willy-nilly, he hadn’t seen it. Just heard their tinny voices chirping holiday greetings to passersby as they waddled about, the lights on their chassis blinking in seizure-inducing patterns. One particularly enthusiastic model nearly clothes-lined a Rodian while flailing its arms as it attempted to distribute what may have been some sort of knock-off Life Day candy.

Perhaps that should have been reported to the health inspector, but again, that was another narc move.

“Remind me next year,” Draike muttered under his breath as the circulation to his fingers seemed to be cut off from the weight of presents, “to skip town for the holidays.”

No one seemed to pay attention to, or care, about his suffering.

He attempted to shift the mountain of packages, wincing as the corner of one of the larger boxes dug into his ribs, while ahead of him Grey consulted a datapad that contained an unnecessarily detailed shopping itinerary. If she vibrated with any more holiday cheer, she might phase out of reality soon. Which would at least spare his retinas from the dancing lights on her sweater. Her husband walked alongside her, not bothering to restrain his bride’s excess enthusiasm. Theron’s concession to the holiday spirit was limited to a thin, dark sweater that was barely visible beneath his trademark red jacket. The man’s stubborn refusal to be fully pulled into the Life Day spectacle was almost admirable. Although the tiny antlers carefully perched around his fauxhawk somewhat ruined that air of grumpy indifference.

Their “merry” band of shoppers was rounded out by none other than Lyra Dorn, his Jedi often co-conspirator who for some reason wasn’t trying to rescue Draike from any of this indignity. She was managing to look tastefully festive in a deep red coat with more understated golden embroidery, and a long green scarf with snowflakes on it, exuding the sense of “holiday spirit” without looking like without looking like she'd been attacked by a pack of festive Wampas with a penchant for glitter.

A group of revelers stumbled out of the Slippery Slopes Cantina, cheeks red with festive cheer and their Life Day robes stained with what he hoped was spilled ale, and not some more questionable bodily fluid. Although that would certainly liven up this overly saccharine excursion, come to think of it. And certainly scandalize the walking embodiment of Life Day cheer who still ambled on ahead of him.

He tried to not envy the revelers their drunken stupor too much as Grey waved Theron and Lyra toward yet another vendor stall. Her ridiculous sweater seemed to almost flash in sync with her movements, the lights on the dancing wampas twinkling like a secret attempt to induce a navigational error in a passing starship. Devilishly clever if true.

Draike heaved a sigh, the dramatic kind that carred the weight of a being long-suffering and ignored by his companions, and betrayed by life itself. He tried to rebalance the gift horde again, only for the pointy box to jab into his ribs anew, as if it had a grudge against him specifically.

“How many more?” he called out.

“Hmm?” Grey didn’t even look back over her shoulder.

“How many more stops do you want to torture us with? At this rate I’m going to need a kolto tank for my spine.”

Grey finally turned to look at him, her face alight not just from the sweater but also just an unnatural level of joy and cheerfulness. He didn’t trust it one bit.

“Just three more shops!” She bounced on her toes again as she checked her datapad. “I’ve got it mapped out here. We'll hit Gree's Galactic Gifts for something special for Ben, get him into the holiday spirit."

Their youngest brother, Ben, the lucky bastard, had somehow gotten out of this charade by claiming he needed to do some special intel op spying on the Hidden Chain with Rass Ordo. Draike wasn’t sure if he actually bought the excuse what with the way Ben and his Mandalorian buddy kept sneaking glances at each other, but was actively regretting that he’d not thought to look busy with things of galactic importance to be able to get out of this endeavor.

"I think you’re going to need more than a gift to accomplish that. Probably a Life Day miracle,” Draike grumbled. “I’m pretty sure Ben was born with those grumpy pants on.”

She seemed to either not hear him, or just ignore him. "And then we'll finish up at Devaronian Delights for some of those candied song-cherries for the girls. They’ll like that right?"

Well, Soli and Roz probably wouldn’t say no to it, but seeing as his kids were teenagers, they’d probably appreciate a credit chit just as much. But if correcting her on that extended his agony, he’d just let her be the lame aunt.

Instead, he staggered dramatically and let out a loud groan. "You know, if you keep buying at this rate, we're going to need the Gravestone to haul it all back to base."

“The Gravestone was destroyed over a year ago.” Grey blinked, confused.

“It was the lucky one.”

Grey just rolled her eyes, completely unfazed by her brother's theatrics. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. We're making great time!"

"Great time?" Draike scoffed. "We've been at this for hours. I'm pretty sure my arms are about to fall off."

“Your arms seem fine to me.” Theron gave Draike a once over, eyebrow arching up dubiously but did reach out to steady a precariously balanced box that was about to take a tumble.

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” Draike shot back. “I don’t see you offering to hold any of this crap.”

“Yes, well, we had to keep your hands busy somehow, didn’t we?” Theron shot back. “After all, idle hands are the devil’s workshop. And you were so bored.”

“I’ll show you idle hands.” Draike could have “accidentally” dropped one (or more) box onto his brother-in-law’s foot, but the Jenga-like arrangement in his arms would probably all come tumbling down if he did that. So he resisted.

Lyra cleared her throat, as if she’d read the momentary gleam in his eye. “You know, we could try and reorganize the route? See if we can cut out a little wandering time.”

“Oh, no worries about that,” Grey held out the datapad, showing off a meticulously color-coded map of the Promenade, with a clear line marking an optimized path to take them from the must-have gift locations to the more optional but fun items. “Theron made sure to chart an optimal path that would hit all the stores with the least amount of backtracking.”

“Who knew he was such a stellar navigator,” Draike muttered darkly.

Theron shot him an equally sour look, deftly leaning back as Grey made a swooping hand gesture as she tried to explain the route in more detail, as if that would somehow not make Draike’s will to live slowly ebb away.

“I’m dying,” he whined. “Slowly wasting away from dehydration. My mouth a desert, my throat a barren wasteland. Just a poor abused pack nerf, far from home.”

Theron rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder it was a wonder his ocular implants didn't short-circuit from the strain. “You’re fine. You had a drink less than an hour ago.”

Lyra, probably moved by the thought of a poor, abused nerf, seemed to take pity on him. “You know, a break doesn’t sound like the worst idea. I think I spied a Biscuit Baron just around the corner. Why don’t Theron and I go grab drinks for everyone?”

“Ooh, hot cocoa!” Grey’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Or maybe that was just the reflection of the lights on her damn sweater.

“I’m going to need something stronger than cocoa to get through the rest of this,” Theron grumbled. Although whether he was agreeing to make his wife happy, or just to shut Draike up was up for debate.

“They don't serve whiskey at Biscuit Baron,” Draike said wistfully, “trust me, I’ve checked.”

“Caf then,” he amended, “strong enough to wake the dead.”

The two of them stepped away, weaving through the crowd towards the promised of caffeinated and chocolate salvation. Immediately, like an excited Kath hound pup let loose in a field of unsuspecting nerfs, Grey’s attention was captured by a nearby shop window. The display had some sort of garish representation of Coruscant’s Senate building rendered entirely in blinking Life Day lights.

“Look at this!” Deprived of her willing victim in matrimony, she tried to wave him over to coo at the display with her. “It’s adorable! Maybe we should get one for the War Room back on base.”

Draike just blinked at her. “You want to add ‘festive cheer’ to our war planning? What next, tying ribbons and bows on thermal detonators?”

She either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him, instead peering closer at the gaudy eyesore, her nose almost pressing against the shop window. “I think it would really brighten the place up.”

“I mean, explosions generally do have that. As a side effect.”

As she seemed oblivious to the way he was staggering under the mountain of packages she’d saddled with him, Draike gave serious thought to just dropping the whole lot right there on the fancy little walkway. It would serve them right. Maybe if he made enough of a scene, they’d finally call it quits and wrap up this hellish excursion.

As if summoned by his frustration alone, one of those weird repurposed protocol gift droids waddled into view. Its red chassis was adorned with an ungodly amount of twinkling lights, and its optical sensors fixed on Draike with an intensity that suggested it had scanned him, analyzed his festive deficiencies, and declared him Patient Zero in a Life Day cheer pandemic.

“Uh uh, don’t you dare—”

“Greetings gentle being, and happy Life Day!” The droid’s voice modulator seemed like it was cranked to eleven on the perkiness scale. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem o be lacking in holiday cheer! Perhaps I can assist you in finding the true meaning of this joyous season?”

Draike’s eyes narrowed, as if he’d just been threatened with violence. “True meaning, huh? Like spending hard earned credits on useless junk? Developing a drinking problem to cope with family gatherings?”

“Stars, no!” The droid’s photoreceptors blinked in what might have been confusion. Or horror. “The true meaning of Life Day is about spreading joy and goodwill to all beings arose the galaxy!”

Hell, this thing was worse than his sister. “Yeah, nothing says ‘goodwill to all’ like being accosted by a walking holiday decoration.”

The droid’s chassis prevented it from tilting its head, but it seemed to sway as if it wanted to attempt the maneuver anyway. “I have not accosted anyone.”

“Do you come pre-programmed with the ability to ignore sarcasm, or is that an upgrade?”

The droid, unfazed by his biting tone, forged on. Probably an upgrade. “Perhaps a festive Life Day carol would lift your spirits? I am programmed with over a thousand holiday melodies from across the galaxy!”

“I’d rather be slowly digested in a sarlacc pit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m unfamiliar with that song. Since you do not have a preference, I will select a carol at random.”

“No, wait—”

Weighed down by a thousand gifts, and perhaps also his own crushing despair, Draike was unable to stop the droid from launching into an ear-splitting rendition of the traditional Wookiee song, “A Day to Celebrate”, in what sounded like Huttese. The discordant warbling was painful enough he almost dropped the mountain of gifts in a reflexive attempt to shield his ears from the auditory assault. He glanced desperately at his sister, hoping she might rescue him from this menace, but she remained blissfully oblivious to his plight.

The droid finished its “song” (and he used that term loosely) with a flourish. “Wonderful! I can see the Life Day spirit levels in you rising already!”

Draike’s eye twitched. “That wasn’t my spirit levels rising, that was my will to live actively trying to crawl out of my body and escape.”

The droid once again tried to tilt its head, but failing that ability, just sort of wobbled again, the lights around its chassis flashing in manner that could only be described as offensively jubilant. “Ah, we must then dig deeper into the core of your holiday malaise. Tell me, gentle being, have you considered extending goodwill to others this season?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He gritted his teeth as the giant gift pile swayed dangerously.

“A small donation could go a long way in helping those less fortunate.”

His arms burned from the weight of Grey’s endless shopping spree. Less fortunate? If anyone was less fortunate, it was him. “A donation? You want me to give credits to some random droid shaking me down in the street? What, did your ethical subroutines get crossed with a Hutt’s business model?”

The droid’s optical sensors flashed, its holiday cheer protocols struggling to process the insinuation. “I assure you, sir, this is a legitimate charity drive for the underprivileged children of Nar Shaddaa. Every credit goes directly to—”

“Listen, Jingle Bot, I’ve got my hands full of ‘Life Day cheer’ already. Literally. If I had any more my spine would probably snap from the weight.” Draike’s patience was wearing thinner than a worn-out strand of tinsel. “So unless your ‘charity drive’ comes with an extra set of arms or a repulsorlift sled, I suggest you take your goodwill pitch and shove it up your exhaust port!”

The droid didn’t budge, and if anything, Draike’s thinly veiled hostility seemed to encourage it almost. The festive lights on its chassis twinkled brighter as if trying to blind him into submission. “Oh, the gift of giving isn’t a burden. Perhaps if I explained the many benefits of charity during this festive season—”

Draike attempted to sidestep the obnoxious droid, the precarious tower of packages swaying dangerously, forcing him to freeze mid-step to steady them. The droid, apparently programmed with the tenacity of a Corellian sand panther, mirrored his movements, blocking his escape.

“Oh, for the love of—Grey!” Desperate, Draike tried to appeal to his sister’s heroic nature to come and save him. “A little help here!”

She turned her head slightly, barely sparing him a proper glance. “Oh, you’re fine. You’ve dealt with worse.”

A swear escaped him. “Worse? Worse than being harassed by a sentient disco ball?”

“I heard that!” The droid chirped, its tone somehow simultaneously cheerful and deeply offended. “Spreading joy may be a thankless task, but nonetheless, I persist!”

Oh, it persisted all right. Right back into Draike’s path as he tried once again to maneuver around the damn thing. A nearby Ithorian couple paused in their stroll, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and pity. One of them muttered something in their melodic language that he was pretty sure translated to “holiday meltdown”.

“Listen here, you overdecorated hyperdrive malfunction,” Draike hissed at his most hated nemesis, “if you don’t back off, I’m going to find the nearest scrap dealer and sell you for spare parts. Maybe in your next life you’ll be something useful, like a garbage compactor!”

For one blessed, glorious moment, the droid froze. Its photoreceptors dimming as if Draike’s bah humbug attitude had finally short-circuited the mechanical monstrosity. He felt a flicker of triumph.

Before the droid’s photoreceptors flickered. Once. Twice—before glowing an ominous, deep red.

The burgeoning smirk on Draike’s lips faltered. “Well, that can’t be good.”

When the droid spoke again, this time its tone was pitched deeper, slower and was laced with a menace that its cheery vocublator shouldn’t have been able to make. “Life Day spirit deficiency detected. Initiating aggressive holiday cheer protocols.“

“Aggressive what?”

He wasn’t sure if he should laugher be worried. Although from the way the droid’s festive lights flashed in a rapid, almost aggressive pattern… maybe the latter. “Now, now, I’m plenty cheerful. Look at this happy face of mine, see?”

Draike’s lips stretched into a wide, unconvincing grin, but from the way several passersby looked at him askance and herded each other away, perhaps it was more of a grimace.

The droid's chest compartment slid open, revealing a turret-like device loaded with fist-sized snowballs. Draike blinked, dumbfounded. Well, that was new.

Was that about to—?

Options flew by at light speed: Risk getting pelted with snowballs or dive for cover? Wait, what cover? The closest thing nearby that qualified was his oblivious sister. Update, new question. Drop the presents or use Grey as a shield? The answer was obvious.

Both.

Just as the first snowball launched with a soft, distinctive fwump sound, he moved. The mountain of packages tumbling in every direction, scattering with a less-than-festive crash. One particularly sickening crunch pierced the din as a delicate glass ornament met its untimely demise underneath Draike’s foot. He didn’t let that slow him down.

“What the—that was for Master Gnost-Dural!”

Before Grey could protest any further, Draike lunged for cover behind her, his hands clamping onto her shoulders and maneuvering her in front of him as a human shield, just in time for the snowball to splatter her with a wet thwack.

Phew, that was a close one. It had almost hit him!

A startled gasp escaped Grey as the snowball collided with her face, sending a spray of icy powder. But Draike was too busy surveying the damage to pay much attention to that or the fact that the droid was already reloading and launching another volley. He watched in detached, morbid fascination as an extra Life Day sweater, purchased on an impulse during hour three of this never ending shopping nightmare, unfurled like a discarded banner, its vibrant colors lost in the garish over decorated marketplace. Not much of a loss, really. The galaxy had enough crimes against fashion without adding another atrocity to the list.

A bottle of what was unmistakably expensive Corellian brandy rolled dangerously close to the edge of the walkway. Draike’s eyes widened as he looked between the bottle and the rapid-fire volley of snowballs hurtling towards the two siblings (or rather, towards Draike and his convenient human shield).

Saving the brandy could almost make this whole hellish excursion worthwhile. But there was no way he’d reach it without being pummeled. Perhaps he could drag Grey that direction and save it? The thought had merit.

As if sensing his distraction, the droid’s snowball barrage intensified.

“Draike!” Grey’s finely honed Jedi reflexes attempted to dodge the incoming snowballs (and maybe save some of her presents), but any attempt at tapping into that Force-given grace was hampered by her brother’s iron grip on her shoulders. “What in the Force are you—”

The question finished in an undignified squawk as another volley of snowballs pelted her.

“Stop it!” She sputtered, voice raising into a whining pitch that was very reminiscent to the one she used to use when they were kids and he was supposedly ‘picking on her’. “Let go of me!”

“Sorry, this is for the good of the galaxy!” He ducked lower behind her shoulder as another snowball whizzed past his ear. The cackle that escaped him was perhaps a little undignified, and more than a little manic. “You’re saving me from death by holiday cheer, just like a good little Jedi should.”

“It’s not funny, stop laughing!” Her drenched bangs were now plastered to her forehead, her ridiculous Life Day sweater now soaked through and clinging to her frame. The dancing wampas flickered pathetically, their cheery electronics no match for the droid’s relentless assault.

“Sure it is!”

Grey’s expression hardened, jaw setting in a way that suggested she was struggling to maintain her oh-so-perfect Jedi composure. “You’re being very immature, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Draike didn’t sound sorry at all, “I didn’t realize there was a mature way to be assaulted by a homicidal holiday droid!”

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off as another volley of snowballs pelted Grey, making her sputter indignantly instead. That Jedi serenity was rapidly evaporating, replaced by the all-too-familiar look of a little sister pushed to her limits.

She furiously wiped the snow from her face, trying to twist around to face him, but his grip on her shoulders remained firm and she could only peer furiously and ineffectively over her shoulder. “I know where you sleep!”

That drew a full on snort from him, as if he’d be caught unawares by the least subtle person in the galaxy. “Oh nooo, the fearsome Jedi knows my sleeping arrangements! I’m shaking, I’m shaking!”

Grey’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a look that might have been intimidating, if she didn’t resemble a drowned womp rat. “You’re going to regret this, Draike Highwind.”

“Probably,” he agreed, and then pivoted them both so she valiantly saved him from another bombardment of snowballs. “But not as much as you’re going to regret wearing that sweater.”

“It’s a fun sweater!” Grey shrieked, composure finally shattering as she threw up her hands. The air shimmered in front of her, snowballs splattering harmlessly against some invisible shield. Oh, some sort of Force nonsense. Of course.

“Oh, yeah! Nothing says ‘fun’ like a pack of electrocuted wampas doing the Coruscant Jig across your chest.” Draike peered over her shoulder, eyeing the droid warily. Despite this new obstacle, it seemed content to keep up its relentless assault. “I’m surprised the Jedi Council hasn’t made it standard issue.”

She fixed him with a glare as hot as Tatooine’s twin suns, nose wrinkling in annoyance. But between the wet hair plastered across her forehead made the look more pitiful than threatening. “You realize you’re replacing everything that got ruined.”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“Everything.”Her tone was eerily reminiscent of the times she would tattle on him to their mother. Just about as effective now as it was then, too.

“Oh, no. You’re going to make me go shopping?” He gasped in mock horror. “I guess that will be just like the last ten hours of my life!”

The droid, apparently encouraged by Draike’s obvious enjoyment of the chaos improbably increased the rate of its snowball production, expanding its targeting protocols to include a group of Revelers passing by. They scattered with undignified shrieks.

“Hey, now, look at that,” he pointed cheerfully, “you’re now not the only one being graced with the holiday spirit. Look at all the joy we’re spreading!”

A particularly large snowball sailed over Grey’s Force shield, catching a Wookiee caroler square in the face mid-warble, ending the “song” in a surprised roar that echoed throughout the Promenade. 

“Uh oh,” Draike pointed in the direction of the latest victim, “I think you made him angry. Quick, use a Jedi mind trick to calm the savage beast!”

Seeing as she hadn’t stopped glaring at him, or at least attempting to with the awkward positioning, she didn’t fix him with another one. But it definitely turned withering at the comment. “That’s not how the Force works and you know it.”

“Really? Huh. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you pull that trick on Theron when he gets all worked up about—”

“Shut. Up.” She ground out through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushing a shade of red that had nothing to do with the cold.

The Wookiee shook himself, ending clumps of snow flying in all directions. A larger chunk sailed through the air in a graceful arc, somehow managing to bypass Draike completely and splat across Grey’s freckled nose with pinpoint accuracy. Her eyes crossed as she stared at the dollop of snow now perched in the center of her vision, looking utterly ridiculous with her soaked sweater, bedraggled hair, and newly acquired snow mustache.

It was perhaps the most beautiful sight that Draike had ever seen.

So caught up in the ridiculousness of her snow-covered visage, he almost missed the moment Theron and Lyra returned. Almost.

Just beyond the still shimmering Force barrier that was still being relentlessly pummeled with a frankly alarming and endless amount of snowballs (how was that physically possible for it to keep generating those ad nauseam without being hooked up to a water supply?), he could see both of them emerging from the crowd. Watching in real time as there expressions morphed from confusion. Lyra’s went to weary exasperation int he span of a heartbeat. Impressive honestly. She’d clearly been spending too much time around him.

Theron, however, cycled through a rapid-fire series of emotions as if he couldn’t settle on just one at first. Surprise. Dawning comprehension, then a blossoming rage. That vein in his forehead—the one Draike had mentally dubbed “Old Faithful” for its reliability—began to pulse with a righteous fury.

“Oh oh,” Drake nudged Grey slightly as she furiously wiped snow from her face. “Don’t look now, but Lover Boy’s about to reach critical mass.”

She stopped wiping her face in time to see the thundercloud settling over husband’s face. “Theron, don’t—”

But it was too late. Theron was already in motion, the drinks he’d been carrying went flying, splattering across the Promenade’s flooring in a caffeinated explosion. Lyra let out an exasperated sigh, aking a Force-enhanced step back to keep it from splattering across her cute, practical little Life Day themed boots.

“My cocoa!” Grey’s lower lip protruded in the same way it did when she was five that somehow always got Draike grounded for the next week.

Theron moved with the precision of a trained operative, a coiled spring of protective fury unleashed. He vaulted over the railing, using it as a springboard to launch himself at the droid in a move that was as impressive as it was ridiculous. His dropkick connected with a resounding clang, sending the droid flying back, snowballs scattering in every direction.

Draike let out an appreciative whistle. “Nice form! Good execution. I give it a solid 9.5 out of 10.”

Grey’s withering glare somehow intensified. If that was possible. 

The droid sparked, sputtering dramatically. Its chassis was now dented from the well-placed dropkick, and the snowball mechanics seemed to be malfunctioning. The chest compartment opened and closed spasmodically as it tried and failed to rise, determined to find its quarry. With a final, pathetic whir, one last snowball launched weakly into the air, landing with a wet plop at Theron’s feet.

He stood over the fallen droid, chest heaving and looking more than a little pleased with himself. The antlers were a little askew, and the perfectly maintained fauxhawk mussed from the extortion. A few strands of hair escaped the gravity defying amount of hair gel he used to sculpt it and fell rakishly across his forehead. Perhaps on someone who wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud, the sight might almost have been attractive.

Grey pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long exhale that somehow managed to convey both exasperation and fondness. “Was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” Theron replied without hesitation. He still glared at the prone droid, as if daring it to twitch. “What kind of husband would just stand idly by and let you get pelted with snowballs?”

“My hero.” Her deadpan reply was softened by the way her lips twitched, fighting back a smile. Ugh, it was so wholesome. Disgusting.

Lyra, meanwhile, was already attempting to do a little damage control, intercepting approaching cartel security personnel with an ease that suggested this wasn’t the first, or perhaps even hundredth, time she’d had to pull this maneuver.  She waved her hand in front of her vaguely, voice calm and authoritative, perhaps laced with a small amount of Force suggestion. "Everything's fine here. Just a small malfunction. We have the situation under control."

Crisis finally averted, Draike finally released his iron grip on Grey’s shoulders. She jerked away from him, still clearly irritated. She was in a sorry state, looking like she’d gone for a swim fully clothed. The once-festive sweater was now a sad, soggy mess. The dancing wampas flickered pathetically, their electronic holiday cheer no match for the droid's relentless assault.

She attempted to salvage the thing, wringing out the bottom of her sweater and creating a small puddle at her feet. The motion sent a cascade of melting snow and ice crystals tumbling from her hair, pattering against the floor like the saddest confetti imaginable.

“You know,” Draike stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I think I prefer this look. Really brings out your eyes.”

Her glare could have melted durasteel.

Draike took a step back, not because he was intimidated or anything. Truly, it was only to inspect his… mostly unintentional handiwork. Baby sister’s Jedi composure crumbling into murderous sibling intent? Check. Annoying droid in laying in sparking ruins? Also check. The stupid spy making a fool out of himself with overly dramatic and unneeded heroics? Double check. It really couldn’t have been any better if he’d actually tried to orchestrate this. 

So distracted with the beautiful poetry of it all, Draike completely missed the growing puddle of melted snow spreading across the floor from Grey’s soaked clothing. His foot his the slick surface, cutting off his internal monologue about his beautiful chaos. Time seemed to slow, his arms pinwheeling, a look of dawning horror spreading across his face.

“Oh, shi—”

Gravity took over, sending him crashing down hard on his ass right in the middle of an icy puddle, and leaving him in an undignified heap. He blinked up at the gaudy Life Day decorations adorning the ceiling.

Any attempt at Jedi-appropriate sympathy from Grey lasted about half a second, before she snorted. For her part, she did attempt to cover her amusement with a cough that fooled absolutely no one. “Are you alright? That looked… painful.”

“Your concern is touching, truly.”

Grey pressed her lips together, fighting a losing battle against her rising mirth. “I’m just glad to see you’re finally getting into the holiday spirit.”

“I will end you,” Draike promised, trying to rise imperiously from the ground, but slipping and falling again.

“And then I executed a perfect flying kick,” Theron was saying perhaps a little too loudly to a clearly unimpressed Life Day Reveler, gesticulating wildly as he mimed a blow-by-blow account of his droid takedown. “Perfect trajectory, form, sheer power. Who needs the Force?”

The Reveler, a Rodian wearing now snow-splattered Life Day robes, simply blinked at Theron before slowly inching away. 

Nearby, Lyra picked through the wreckage of their shopping expedition, plucking a sodden package from a puddle. She winced as she peeled back the corner of ruined wrapping paper, water dripping from it in a steady patter, adding to a growing pool at her feet that reflected the gaudy lights strung around them.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Lyra glanced up, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in a single expression that managed to convey entire paragraphs of unspoken commentary.

A blend of “I saw that coming”, I told you so" and "you deserved that" all rolled into one. The slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her struggle to keep a straight face. Draike scowled, his pride bruised even worse than his backside.

“Don’t say it. “He pointed a finger at her, finally managing to shove himself into an upright position at least. “Not one word.”

Lyra opened her mouth, expression promising perhaps a remark about karmic justice, when a shadow fell over Draike. A towering Wookiee, draped in a festive sash that strained against its massive frame, loomed over him and let out a deep, rumbling sound. It was probably meant to be sympathetic—perhaps the Shyriiwook equivalent of "there, there." But to Draike's ears, it sounded suspiciously like amusement.

Before he could protest, a massive furry paw came down, patting him with surprising gentleness, though with enough force to still muss his carefully maintained coif. The gesture made him feel about five years old, which added another crushing blow to his already battered dignity.

“Watch the—” Another pat nearly knocked him sideways, silencing his protest. 

He flailed, struggling to maintain what little balance he had left. The Wookiee let out another sympathetic warble, misinterpreting the spluttered protests as need for more comfort. The worst part of it was one little sister’s poorly disguised attempts to suppress her mirth, the unconvincing coughs failing to cover her snickering.

The area around them was a disaster zone of holiday cheer gone wrong.  Shattered presents lay scattered around the sparking, sputtering gift droid.

"Hap-hap-happy Life D-d-day," it wheezed, a few sad snowflakes dribbling from its damaged chest. "Would you like to make a d-d-donation?"

Draike finally disentangled himself from the well-meaning Wookiee, rising with what little dignity he could muster as nearby, Theron had been forced to shift from trying to regale passersby with the heroic tale of droid slaughter to explaining to a very beefy cartel security officer why droid assault was completely justified. 

“It was a menace to society—it’s holiday cheer settings way too aggressive to be considered normal!”

The Nikto security guard looked unimpressed, reptilian features twisting into a scowl. “Sir, I fail to see how malfunctioning gift droid deserved such a brutal murder.”

“Murder?” Theron sputtered indignantly. “It was self-defense—”

Grey, still dripping, had given up on salvaging her festive sweater. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as the icy water soaked through her clothes. The dancing wampas on her chest gave one, final, pitiful flicker before going dark entirely.

Theron immediately broke off his impassioned defense of droid violence, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth motion and raping it over his shivering wife’s shoulders. As he fussed with the collar, making sure it was snug around her neck, he shot a pointed glare at Draike that clearly said “this is your fault”. 

Grey tried, and failed, to hide her little smile at the gesture, even as she half-heartedly protested. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that cold—”

Her words trailed off as she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the jacket, contradicting her claim entirely. The red leather engulfed her smaller frame, making her look even more bedraggled than before. But the contented sigh she let out betrayed her gratitude.

Kneeling down, still clutching the jacket around her, Grey began sifting through the wreckage of their shopping expedition. Her expression soured as she lifted a sodden bundle of documents, waterlogged and practically disintegrating in her hands. 

"Oh no," she groaned, squinting at the label. "This was the documentation for Master Gnost-Dural about the Hidden Chain’s latest activities. It's completely ruined."

“What a tragedy,” Draike muttered."

She shot Draike another exasperated look, this one leaning heavily towards the 'annoyed' end of the spectrum. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to track these down? Now I'll have to file incident reports about the incident reports."

"Ah yes, the bureaucratic circle of life. Truly, there is no greater tragedy in the galaxy."

“Lana has backups,” Theron put in helpfully, although he leveled a similarly annoyed glower in Draike’s direction. “Something about not trusting us with the sole copy of vital intelligence. Which, I loathe to admit, might be somewhat justified right about now.”

Lyra offered Draike a hand up, and he abandoned the attempts to wring out the hem of his jacket to accept her firm grip. She hauled him from the puddle with practiced ease. “Honestly, Draike, this is why we can’t have nice things.”

“I personally think we’re all better for the experience.” He straightened his back in an admirable, if ultimately doomed, attempt to retain some shred of authority. “Besides, seeing that damn droid get dropkicked like that was almost worth me wetting my pants—wait, getting my pants wet.”

Lyra’s lips twitched, managing to fight back a smile as she bent to retrieve another soggy package. “They do say that property destruction is the hallmark of a successful shopping trip.”

“It is when Agent Shan is involved.” Draike thumbed in Theron’s direction. “But also good riddance to an obnoxious menace.”

Grey glanced over in his direction. “I’m sure the Hutt Cartel will be thrilled to hear about our heroic droid slaying. The headlines practically write themselves: ‘Rogue Jedi and Idiot Brother Destroy Priceless Holiday Decorations.”

"Hey, it’s not our fault if they overpaid for that rusted hunk of junk. Clearly it should have only cost them a handful of credits.”

“Because they’re famously so understanding about such things.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. He really had done a number on that Jedi patience of hers, hadn’t he? “And since you’re so eager to explain our heroic deeds, you can be the one to tell Master Gnost-Dural exactly what happened to his files.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, it’s only fair that you get to explain to one of the Jedi Order’s new Grand Master why his carefully compiled research is now soggy confetti."

“Well why the hell did you print it out on flimsiplast to begin with instead of sending him an e-mail like a normal person?”

“I’m sorry if he’s old fashioned—”

“Wait, Gnost-Dural regularly checks his e-mails.” Theron frowned in confusion. “He sends me lame screenshotted memes like every other day.”

“I,” Draike insisted, ignoring Theron like he usually did, “was an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“You’re about as innocent as a Jawa in a droid swap,” Lyra intoned dryly.

“Lyra,” Grey said, a little scandalized at the insinuation against Jawakind. She adjusted Theron's jacket around her shoulders, though it did little to stop the shivering that had set into her bones.

A second security officer joined the Nikto, this one a burly Zabrak with a badge that looked far too shiny for someone assigned to deal with Life Day mall chaos. In unison they crossed their arms, staring Theron down with the grim determination of underpaid employees counting the minutes to the end of their shift. When his indignant sputter of doing what any concerned citizen didn’t move them, Theron moved on to the subject of legal liabilities for Cartel-owned droids assaulting innocent shoppers, and both the Nikto and Zabrak exchanged weary glances before waving him off with matching sighs of defeat. Clearly, they'd decided that dealing with this particular brand of Life Day chaos wasn't worth the overtime.

Lyra, ever efficient, had somehow salvaged and redistributed the surviving packages, even producing a small satchel from seemingly nowhere to carefully tuck away the most delicate items.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare set of clothes in there too?” Draike eyed the satchel with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “Life Day sweaters don’t count.”

Lyra's lips twitched, fighting back another smile as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "I'm good, Draike, but I'm not that good. Though I did manage to save your Corellian brandy."

Draike perked up, his soggy misery momentarily forgotten. "You're an angel among Jedi, you know that?"

Lyra gave him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching again. "Don’t push it, Captain. I’m still debating whether or not you deserve it. But I figured if I didn't save the brandy, you'd only cry harder."

“I do not cry,” he sniffed indignantly. “Just occasionally wallow. Besides, that droid had it out for me from the get-go. Did you see how it hounded me?”

“No, I was at Biscuit Baron.”

“It was like a predator stalking its prey—”

A mechanical whir cut him off, and the group froze, turning as one to stare at the defunct droid they’d left in their wake. The battered chassis sparked, chest compartment grinding one final time. Theron instinctively moved to shield Grey just as the droid let out one last sad little fwump.

A single snowball launched, arcing through the air, sailing past where Theron’s protective stance and Grey’s half-formed Force barrier to catch Draike square in the face. The droid let out a final, satisfied “Happy Life Day” before sparking and dying completely, lights flickering out like an errant breeze snuffing out a candle. 

Snow dripped down Draike's chin as his sister completely lose her composure, dissolving into the kind of laughter that had her leaning against her husband for support. As he wiped the slush from his face, he had to admit (though only to himself, and very, very quietly) that maybe he deserved that one. But only that one.

[akascow]

HELLO i make dolls sometimes

heres all my horror/thriller ooak dolls >:)

plus a lil retrospective for each under the cut :)

scroll all the way down for 2025 edits !!

ordered most to least favorite:

Peter Graham (Hereditary)- my fave of all of them :3 hes so cutie patootie i love him the hair and the faceup just came together so well eugh (5/2024)

Freddy Kreuger (Nightmare on Elm Street)- LOVE HER i was kinda iffy on the dress when making it BUT I LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT, and not to toot my own horn BUT the skin !! turned out so fucking so good. my mom says it makes her uncomfortable to look at so MISSION ACCOMPLISHED i guess (9/2024)

Adam Stanheight (Saw)- first one i actually tried at HAHA i love the mullet (it used to look better idk what happened to it lmfao) and the pants and the shirt and the accessories, theyre my wet lil cat. also (hard to tell from this pic) i really love the underwear waist line i gave the pants lmao movie adam’s boxers were always just hanging out HAHA (4/2024)

Stu Macher (Scream)- redid their face like 3 times and it still doesnt look like matthew lillard so it makes me angry to look at HAHA id probably like it better if i did better on the robe but oh well lmao. UPDATE i completely redid it bc i hated how the face n hair turned out and i LOVE it now FINALLY. looks nothing like matthew but oh well. i kinda went for a character-inspired approach bc mr lillard was Not working out lol (5/2024, 1/2025)

Grace Le Domas (Ready or Not)- the dress is just a clusterfuck of materials but it keeps the vibe. u cant tell from the pic but the hair actually looks rlly close to her hair in the movie if i do say so myself. her eyes are way too white tho i need to muddy them bc theyre so piercing when my light is off HAHA. also i literally color stained her dress with dirty paint water HAHA. (9/2024)

Amanda Young (Saw)- kinda skimpy on details but i think it looks like her pretty well idk. if i was good at crafting i would actually make a rbt but alas (6/2024)

Red (Us)- first doll outfit i tried to make from scratch and u can tell HAHA i think i redid the face like 3 times lmfao. also i colored the hair with copious amounts of eyeshadow and hairspray bc i didnt own curly doll hair. the coolest part imo are the scissors im actually surprised i found that online (2/2024)

Bent Neck Lady (Haunting of Hill House)- u cant tell but the body details are so cool to me it kinda follows the moldy and torn pattern of all the hill house ghosts, not a fan of the face but it was when i was still doing more stylized faceups as opposed to trying to stick to more realistic lol, might redo it in the future idk (3/2024)

Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)- kinda hate her i think its the hair but u can only make so many mullets before losing ur mind so its wtvr. the clothes were so frustrating. i just (march ’25) ordered an actuall doll raincoat so at least itll finally all come together (hopefully). i plan on completely redoing the face and hair so that i dont hate looking at her anymore HAHA (9/2024)

extra add ons//plus non thriller dolls (post 10/2024)

ordered least to most recent:

Crowley and Aziraphale (Good Omens) FIRST ever customs i made. i started to dislike the faceups bc they were so crunchy so i redid it and the hair and i still dislike it LMAO i have to take a break from it. probably the most expensive ones in terms of supplies bc i bought every single element of their clothes BUT i love how the outfits turned out. tried to match their head sculpts to michael and davids the best i could, dunno about azi but i think crowleys is spot on. also crowleys head is held on with a paper clip and a dream LMFAO (8/2023, 4/2024)

Dream the Endless (The Sandman)- u can probably tell but this doll was so rushed (his feet are still Not painted LMAO) i was in a sandman phase and needed to get it out before the fixation left me, ive been wanting to do one for forever HAHA. the hair turned out immaculate imo probably my favorite yarn restyle ive done next to adam and peter. clothes are so messy but its fine bc theyre black and blend in HAHA. i like the eyes the most bc i used silver paint so it really stand out :3 (9/2024)

Wendy Torrance (The Shining)- :3 tried so hard to make her tooth gap look natural but alas. really love the blushing i did to make her look like shes been crying for a week lmao. not a fan of the eyes but i spent an absurd amount of time aswell trying to match shelley duvals eyes and i kept making them too big. :) love how the outfit turned out tho she looks so cozy (11/2024)

Justin Foley (13 Reasons Why)- controversial show ik BUT hes my absolute favorite character i love him and i love brandon flynn so ive been wanting to make him for SO long. JUST made him so i havent decided on if i like it or not. idk how i managed to make a perfect crying face for peter bc i havent been able to replicate it since then LMAO i tried to capture his perpetual puffy sleep deprived kicked-dog eyes idk if it came out that well tho. first time using actual powder pastels instead of strickly paint to add color and i think it went well? also turns out its almost impossible to find a fucking MH doll-sized letterman jacket i searched for maybe 2 hours on etsy good lord (3/2025)

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

30 Days of November

taglist: @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl

7. Mysterious

As Halloween wound down, Kendall couldn't shake the weird feeling that had built up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was dread or getting sick, but he was groggy, and his mind was hazy.

Kendall Donald Knight refuses to believe in tarot cards. He couldn't understand why Ronnie liked them. He wasn't going to protest and whine as she dragged him over to the apartment of her newest friend. Lucian was a novelist who specialized in horror novels, or he was an up-and-coming novelist. A decal with the moon's phases was stuck to the front of the white door. He lived on the sixth floor. He was uncomfortable, but for some reason, he felt awkward. It wasn't that he didn't want Ronnie to hang out with other guys because it would be stupid of him to think that way when his friends hang out with her.

A boy with purple hair opened the door. He wore a red and black striped sweater that made Kendall think of Freddy Krueger. An earthy scent wafted from his apartment, and over his shoulder, the blonde swore he saw smoke. Lucian's eyes were wide like a doe's, and his face lit up when he saw them. He ushered the couple inside, and a kettle on the stove whistled.

"Tea?" Lucian asked as he shut the stove off and grabbed a mug from the cupboard overhead.

"Oh- " Ronnie's eyes lit up. "What kinds do you have?"

Kendall's eyes were drawn to the small, circular table in the middle of the living room. A purple tablecloth patterned with something mystical in gold thread was thrown over it. Atop the surface sat a box and a set of China cups. By the open window, he noticed a burning stick of incense. He wondered how Bitters let him do that. He knew almost immediately that the songwriter brought him for a tarot reading, but he wasn't irked by it for some reason.

"Alright," Lucian pulled out one of the chairs. "What are you looking for? What kind of reading are we doing?"

Kendall looked at Ronnie with suspicion. She tapped her feet gently on the carpeted floor, fidgeting with the drawstrings of her yellow sweatshirt. She knit her brows together in confusion.

"Okay, then..." Lucian opened the box on the table. The steam from the cops of tea billowed and mixed with the incense smoke in the room. Kendall could smell a hint of lavender. "I can just pull the cards and see what I see."

He did an overhand shuffle, and out came five cards: Three of Cups reversed: The Hermit, The Magician, The World, and Two of Cups. Kendall quirked a brow. He didn't understand what it meant, but Ronnie leaned forward.

"Huh." Lucian stared at the cards curiously and tapped his finger against the table. "This is... weird."

"Weird? Weird how? What do you mean?" Kendall's anxiety spiked.

"For starters," Lucian pointed to The Magician card. "Trust yourself, trust your feelings. You know what's best for yourself. In this situation..." He glanced between Ronnie and Kendall. "I'd say listen to how you feel. It's almost always right."

"Then we have The Hermit." Lucian pointed to the card. It depicted a man in a black robe holding a lantern. "Give it time; don't force anything to happen."

"Okay... So, this is proving that it's nonsense." Kendall leaned back with a smug look on his face.

"Kendall!" Ronnie smacked his arm.

"Then we have Three of Cups reversed. There could be something causing a rift between you and someone you love, which segways into Two of Cups, expressing... how much you care about each other." Lucian smiled awkwardly.

"How much do we care about each other?" Kendall scoffed. His posture shifted, and he leaned forward.

"You say that as if we're not friends." Ronnie rolled her eyes.

Lucian leaned back and looked between the cards at Kendall and Ronnie. Suddenly, the pieces were placed in his head, and a metaphorical light bulb went off. He gasped and snapped his fingers.

"You two like each other!"

[ladynighthaunter]

Kaldor Primus

Hive Gidion

Tha Cardinal stood in the church of the furs saint, his loyal sisters acting as body guards, there had been dissent in the ranks after an Astropathic message from the Militant Apostolic, but his honeyed words wine them over, what did the Apostolic know if the wars of faith beyond her side at the Regent, what did either of them know f the perversion of the Emperor's will?

He stood in this church, a stated in disgust at the triumvent of statues behind the alter, there was the Emperor as was good, dressed in the guise of a Shepard, moving his flock the faithful, then there was Saint Keeler and he can not deny the good she did laying down the foundations of their faith, but between them.... The deciver, perverter of truths, she who held the saints remains out of the rightful hands of the church, Konrad Curze, sculpted like some angel.

Ropes lashed the statue of Konrad and at his command, sisters and the faithful pulled. At first it seemed the statue of the tainted Primarch would not budge, but faith over came and it topped, crashing into the tilled floor, chipps if stone flying off where it had cracked.

The Cardinal threw his hands wide. "Look how we cast down this false idol! She thinks her self above the first saint, but no man, woman or Primarch are above those blessed by our holy lord." He shouted out to a cheering audience, before turning his gaze to his next demonstration.

Lined against the wall where foul abuhumans. "They claimed they where the Faithfull." The Cardinal spat. "They claimed they where welcomed into the church of the first saint with loving arms! There is no love for the mutant, so we must drive them out! Cast them against the stone!" He roared, the crowed would of gladly torn these foul animals apart with their bare hands if given a chance, but instead he would let the holy sisters met out punishment.

"Sisters, his avenging angels. You know what must be done." He commanded as a squad of sisters lined up, their blue armour and white robes mirroring that of the most Holy Regents sons, the Ultramarines raised their bolters as one and aimmed.

It was then an unholy scream rang out through out the church as five figures dropped from the rafters, grave shutes controlling their descent as the landed amoung the now terrified faithful.

The Cardinals mouth went dry as he saw these interlopers. Clad in midnight blue, lighting patterns etched on their armour, each wore a skull helm as they let out another ear piercing scream. Reavers of the Night Lords... But how had they infiltrated? He had guards on every entrance!

The Reavers pushed through the faithful as if they where nothing, their bolt pistols barking as they shot down the firing squad, not lethal wounds, they aimed to cripple as they pushed their way forward.

The Cardinal was quick to recover. "Behold the foul servants of this dark Primarch, how they lay low our holy sisters! Strike them down in the God Emperor's name!"

The remaining sisters charged forward, but the Reavers had what they came for, each one holding a Beastman in one hand, they threw smoke grenades out, thick chocking smoke filling the church and in the confusion, they where gone.

The Cardinal raged and spat damnation after damnation upon the spawn of Konrad Curze.

Meanwhile.

In the underhive.

The Alpha Legion marines watched through a spotty feed at the chaos, one of them tapping the screen. "Well, this is unexpected."

The second marine nodded and spread his hands. "But welcomed, such an action will widen the rift between the two, before long this planet will be consumed in war, easy pickings for our brothers."

The marines nod and keep watching, the Cardinal was not one of their agents, but he danced all to merrily to the tune of the Alpha Legion.

[lolo3hwriting]

Oneshot: In the Shadow of Penance

Summary: Wildflower Cookie and her mother Dandelion Jelly Cookie, both working as mercenaries, notice some strange things going on. It becomes apparent that something is deeply wrong when they receive word of a town in need of help and go to check it out.

Words: ~2.5k

Additional Notes: Based on the Beast Ancients AU bu @/cuppajj. Vague mentions of Dragonberry Cookie but mostly focuses on Saint Vanilla's mission to cleanse everyone and the broader effects of it.

Wildflower Cookie wasn’t sure when she noticed something was wrong. It was all a series of small, yet concerning events that she didn’t realize were connected until it all but smacked her in the face. Looking back on it, the first thing she remembered was the strange shift in demand in the markets. The town that she and her mother lived in was a trading outpost part of the Hollyberry Kingdom, whose economy heavily relied on trade. Changes in supply and demand were only natural, but something about the recent change seemed off. Any capable cookies were being demanded for work by the royal family for some undisclosed 'labor' at the royal palace. At a glance, it seemed like a great opportunity for her and her mother as they were always looking for jobs. But for some reason, her mother refused to get involved, saying that she didn’t want to work for the royal family. Wildflower Cookie thought it made sense, they had never been ones to like authority, and working for someone as big as the royal family could lead to their exploitation and abuse. Plus, the whole situation reeked of a scam, they were asking for anybody willing with no requirements of specific pay listed. But besides all of that, Wildflower Cookie trusted her mother to look out for both of them, so if she said that they wouldn’t take up the job then they wouldn’t. 

And then even stranger, a few weeks later after the massive wave of monster hunter demands, there was a rumor that the Hollyberry kingdom was being attacked by invaders. Wildflower Cookie was deeply confused. Who would want to incite a conflict against one of the most powerful kingdoms, an economic superpower filled with some of the best knights and duelists? 

The rumors became even more concerning, cookies being more frequently attacked by fierce monsters, cookies entering the Hollyberry palace and mysteriously disappearing, and the most bizarre of all was a new cult going around, calling for the end of times. Wildflower Cookie didn’t believe any of it as all of it could be just some wild speculation. The jungles of the Hollyberry kingdom were notoriously filled with creatures of all kinds, so a spike in travelers would mean that there would be a more likely chance of some unfortunate cookie getting attacked. The hollyberry palace was massive and it was practically an open secret that the noble houses conspired against each other. It was inevitable that some cookie would get caught in the crossfire. And that cult? That must have been a complete lie, probably borne of some cookie’s drunken delusions. 

But as the days passed by, more and more monster attacks were reported and cookies went missing. It steadily raised Wildflower Cookie’s doubts about whether or not this could all really be a lie. It wasn’t until a particularly disturbing sight that truly convinced her. 

One day as she was buying some supplies from the market with her mother, Wildflower Cookie heard some shouting down the road towards the town square. Worried that there might be some bandits or monsters, she rushed towards the scene of the commotion. She pushed through the crowd of other cookies, all staring and whispering amongst themselves, and saw what they were all looking at. It was a one cookie dressed in waffle patterned robes, ranting and raving to those around them.

“This world is a dark, corrupted place, filled with sin and deceit. But fear not, for there is a path to salvation, a way to cleanse your soul and be reborn in the light of purity. 

Penitence is the key that unlocks the door to salvation. To truly repent, you must acknowledge the truth of your sins, you must lay bare your soul before our Saint. It is only through this sacred act of humility and truth that you can reach salvation. Repent! Our Saint calls for all of us to repent!

This cleansing is a profound transformation. It is the shedding of your old, tainted self and the embrace of a new, pure existence. Give yourselves to our Saint and he will give us his love and guide us to eternal purity!”

Wildflower Cookie stood there befuddled, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What nonsense was this cloaked figure spewing? Sins? Penitence and cleansing? And what was this about a Saint?

“There you are!”

Wildflower Cookie whipped around to her mother’s voice and saw her standing a few feet away from the crowd. She immediately started wiggling her way out of the sea of people, making her way to her mother. 

“I was worried about you. Is this where you have been?”

“Yeah, I heard some noise and wanted to check it out.”

Her mother sighs, though her daughter notices it’s one out of mild irritation and not real anger. 

“Well I’m glad that you’re okay at least and I won’t force you to do anything, but can you please tell me if you’re going somewhere?”

“...Okay, I will next time. Sorry.”

Her mother gives a small smile in response and puts a firm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright. You got everything we need, right? Let’s go back home.”

Wildflower Cookie nodded and started following her mother back as she turned around, but she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder to where the cookie was still preaching to the crowd. She sincerely hoped that this wouldn’t be the start of more nut-cases coming into town.

Ever since that strange day, something shifted in Wildflower Cookie. She was glancing over at every noise, meticulously counting and organizing all the supplies she had, glancing over at any loud noise, always with her guard up. She could have a lot of different excuses to explain her behavior, but the thing that affected her the most was her mother’s own behavior. Wildflower Cookie could tell that she was trying not to act so worried, but it started slowly seeping into her behavior. Constantly asking her plans for the day, if she was sure she wanted to go to the town square alone, if she had her knife on her. Just in case. 

But despite how many precautions the two of them took, her mother still refused to let her guard down. It seemed the rumors were getting to her, but Wildflower Cookie would hesitate to call her paranoid as they could both tell that the world was getting stranger and stranger. 

After a few weeks, a message was put out for someone for help at a nearby village, an hour away by foot. When her mother took the job, Wildflower Cookie was relieved, there were only so many times she could stand working as a guard in taverns. She was deeply thankful that there was still some employment locally, but she would admit that she was getting at least a little tired of breaking up drunken bar fights. 

When Wildflower Cookie walked through her town to exit, she noticed something strange real quick. Despite it being the early afternoon, there was barely anybody around, the streets practically empty. She swirled her head from side to side, straining her neck to peer into any corner that could possibly have anybody else. The cookies that she did see, which were in the single digits, were strange as well. They all kept their heads down, not a single friendly greeting or even a glance. They were all just keeping to themselves, not trusting anybody else. Wildflower Cookie couldn’t blame them, but she did find herself getting concerned at the tense atmosphere. Perhaps going out of town was a good thing.

She and her mother walked quietly beside one another, with the only words being exchanged was a curt “be aware of your surroundings” from her mother. Rationality, Wildflower Cookie knew that most likely nothing eventful happened. The two of them had walked this path dozens of times before, and none of those times were they attacked by monsters or even highwaymen. Even though both of them were capable, it would still be a problem if they were caught out on the road like this, relatively far away from any outside help. And with how strange the world seemed it looked like anything could happen, so she refused to fully let her guard down. 

After ten or so minutes of walking in silence, Wildflower Cookie couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a deep sigh. The past couple of weeks had been weighing heavily on her, and the constant stress and anxiety were starting to get to her. She had really hoped that going out would have helped her in some way, but the silent tension between her and her mother was starting to wear her out even more. She understood that her mother had a lot of responsibilities in order to keep them going, but would it really be too much to ask to just have a conversation with her daughter?

Feeling herself become more irradiated, Wildflower Cookie diverted her attention to the forest scenery surrounding them. Although most others would just call it a bunch of trees, she saw more to it than that. Some trees were towering over the heads and seemed to touch the sky, while others were still short little saplings with only a few leaves. Others had fallen over, being decayed by colorful mushrooms and fungus that stood out from all the browns and greens of the surrounding forest. A few facts popped up in her head about the trees she was looking at. Some knew flowered brilliantly during the spring, while she recognized others as particularly good for making paper. 

Others said that being around plants helped relieve stress, but Wildflower Cookie couldn’t say she was calm. More like…entranced. She has had a keen interest in plants ever since she was young, constantly reading anything she could related to them. Each one had their own unique characteristics, their own story to tell. 

“Hey, are you with me?”

Wildflower Cookie snapped her attention to her mother’s words. She had caught her not paying attention, but she sounded more concerned than annoyed. 

“Yes, I’m here. Do you need something?” 

“Just making sure you’re fine. Are you tired? Do you need a break?”

“I’m fine, I was just looking at the trees.”

“Well we’re nearly there, be sure to get yourself ready.”

She nodded at her mother’s words. The dirt path got smoother each step they took and the forest was becoming less dense, a sign that civilization was not too far away. The growth of the forest abruptly ended, allowing for a clear view of the village. It was a quaint little thing, a collection with a few dozen buildings surrounded by a low cobbled wall. With the afternoon sun shining overhead, the town seemed to sparkle in the light. 

They approached closer and made their way to the entrance gateway, stopping at the opened doors. Both of them looked around to see if there would be anyone patrolling there, but there was no one in sight. Wildflower Cookie thought that even a skeleton crew would have at least someone assigned to the entrance, but even as they both arched their heads to search, they couldn’t find anybody. 

Wildflower Cookie glanced at her mother, silently asking her what to do. She only shrugged in response and continued through the gate, to which her daughter followed closely behind. 

It was unnervingly quiet. All the usual hum of life was gone, replaced by a heavy and oppressive blanket of silence. There were no footsteps other than their own, which echoed unnaturally loud against the stone streets.

Passing by what they could assume to be the central square, they notice the market stalls, all of them still having items sitting on their surfaces. Fruit, wood carvings, jewelry, all of it sat abandoned as if the stall owners had simply gone on break all at once. 

Her mother abruptly stopped in her tracks, eyes furrowed in concentration and contemplating what to do, which left her daughter to think. Now that she was still, she couldn’t ignore the strange atmosphere. The silence was one thing, but focusing on it further she realized it wasn’t all it was. She was more attuned to magic than her mother was so she wasn’t sure if she could sense it, but the air was charged with energy, as if moving too fast would cause everything to ignite and explode. Were all the glimmering lights in the air a part of it?

Taking in her surroundings, Wildflower Cookie noticed all of the sparkles in the air. Her eyes jumped to each one, quickly realizing how numerous all of them were. 

Something else caught her eye amongst the countless sparkles around her, a bed of flowers growing conspicuously out of the stone walkway. Wildflower Cookie wearily stepped towards it and crouched down, inspecting the plant life. 

“Is this… a vanilla orchid?” she mumbled to herself.

They were still in the Hollyberry Kingdom as far as she was aware, and vanilla orchids monthly grew in the namesake Vanilla Kingdom. She read that they grew better in more temperate areas, not in the hot and tropical climate of the Hollyberry Kingdom. 

But maybe they weren’t real vanilla orchids. From what she could remember, most illustrations depicted these flowers with their eyes closed or at least half-lidded, giving them a serene, dreamlike quality. In stark contrast, these orchids had their eyes wide open, constantly watching and observing their surroundings. She couldn't deny the captivating beauty of their sparkling blue eyes, which glistened much like the other sparkles in the air. The sight of this new and possibly undocumented plant filled her with a sense of wonder and excitement. But her fascination was tinged with a creeping sense of dread, as their unnerving, unblinking stare seemed to pierce right through her. The orchids' gleaming pupils fixed directly on her, and Wildflower Cookie could swear there was a glimmer of intelligence lurking beneath those eyes, as if the flowers harbored secrets they were just on the brink of revealing.

“Wildflower Cookie! We’re leaving.”

She blinked and broke eye contact with the mysterious flowers, her head snapping to her mother. 

“Yeah I’m coming.”

If it were any other situation, Wildflower Cookie would be tempted to bring some of the flowers back home. She was curious as to how they were growing and if they could continue growing in their climate, but her rationality told her not to even try pulling it up, or to even touch it.

As she stood back up and walked back towards her mother, her eyes lingered on it for a few moments more before looking away and hurrying towards the exit to the town.