#tension between him and apprentice is one sided

[pepperfellover]

soooo I was planning on doing a comm ref sheet for a full illustration with the MCs in an angst Julian setting, in the cave or fallin into the water, then I forgor to make the post LOL

I’m ill about him once again

Anyway enjoy Ilya he’s wet and dazed and the apprentice ain’t too proud

[bunnylovesani]

Cherry Popping

Summary: When you’re left alone with your father’s good friend James Kelly, you try to seduce him- but you soon realise you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.

Content warnings: Mild dubcon, loss of virginity, rough p in v sex, fingering, choking, degradation, humiliation, creampie

WC: 2.8k

You’d gotten used to James hanging around- you’d spent many of your childhood summers peering into the garage where he worked with your father. A long time had passed since he was just a mechanic’s apprentice but he maintained a close friendship with your family, often coming by on weekends for a cold beer and catch up. Everything had remained the same for years- everything apart from you.

As you grew older, the way you looked at him changed. Thanks to a fresh influx of hormones, you were filled with a newfound curiosity for him- his familiarity was washed away and replaced with anxious desire. Now prior to his arrival, you’d spritz yourself with perfume and change into something short and pink. Your dad, being endearingly clueless as usual, would comment on how nice the floral fragrance that his princess was wearing was and you’d squeak out “Thanks daddy! Just tryin’ out somethin’ new, ya know?”

As was your routine, you’d skip along happily to the garage whenever you heard the familiar hum of his engine and you’d practise working up the nerve to ask him if he wanted something to drink. He’d flash you a bright smile that made you weak in the knees and usually declined your offer, insisting he could get it himself. You always felt a little saddened, sorely craving the opportunity to show him care and attention with some good old-fashioned hospitality.

On one particular weekend, you’d spent the day attending to your dad- who had elected to stay home from work after battling a nasty virus for the entirety of the previous night. James- ever gracious- came over bearing medicine and various snacks as soon as he found out, stepping into the lounge where your dad lay to crack some distasteful joke and bring him a canister of tea before leaving him to nap.

“I could’ve done that.” You murmured once he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

“No need, we wouldn’t want you catching whatever your old man’s got.” He smiles earnestly and you feel your breath catch in your throat as your mind goes blank, an increasingly awkward silence lingering between you.

“So how is everything, kid? School going well and all that?” He diffuses the tension.

“I’m not in school anymore James.” You giggle at how misinformed he is.

“Ah my bad, I guess I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” He looks away, rubbing the back of his head and you can’t help but admire his gorgeous side profile, choppy dark hair framing his sculpted face.

“And how well would you like to know me?” You mumble, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry?” He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head at you, assuming he misheard you.

“Nothing- you know, the lightbulb in the bathroom needs changing and I just can’t reach it! Could you help me?” You ask in your sweetest voice, batting your eyelashes.

“Of course, in here?” He points to the bathroom down the hallway, stepping in.

“Yep, the ceiling is too tall and I can’t find anything to step on.” You hold the bulb in your hand and huff defeatedly.

“I’ll go grab a chair-“

“Or you could just give me a leg up.” You interrupt, wanting desperately to feel his calloused hands wrapped securely around you.

“Uh-I mean, sure.” He stutters, realising he doesn’t have much of a choice when your hands make their way to his broad shoulders.

You jump up as his firm grip tightens over your barely clothed thighs and hips, holding you up with bated breath. You pretend to fiddle with the screw of the bulb, prolonging the moment as you memorise every detail of his touch on your skin.

“You got it?” He asks uncomfortably, facing the opposite direction from you.

“Yeah, almost! It’s just so - ugh- damn slippery!” You pretend, making sure to stretch out so that your already short skirt is further raised- hem brushing against his knuckles. “Just can’t seem to get it in…” You mumble and he looks up at you, shooting you an unconvinced glare.

“If you wanted me to touch you, you could’ve just said.” He sighs, unamused with your little act.

“I-I don’t know what you mean James, I’m just struggling with the bulb.” You chuckle incredulously before he drops you a little, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist with a gasp. “James! I-“

“You’ve done enough talking.” He mutters and lowers you against the sink, your legs still wrapped around his torso as he lifts up your skirt, taking a peek at your lace panties. You’re rendered speechless- you don’t know what you were expecting when you were being flirty but it wasn’t this.

“You’re over 18, right?” He stops for a moment, both hands squishing the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Yes, way over.” You huff- how did he still think you were a kid?

“Enough with the attitude.” He grabs you by the cheeks with one hand and stares right through you with steely blue eyes. “You think you’re all grown up now? Ready to be treated like a real woman?” He asks you with such intensity it feels like a life or death matter.

“I am.” You mumble and bite your lip nervously. You had no idea what he had in mind for you but you knew you wanted it all, whatever it was.

“You’re certainly dressed like it.” He inspects your low-cut top and short skirt, now hitched around your hips with your thong on display for him. “You’re asking for it walking around like this. And daddy just lets you? If you were my daughter, you’d never be allowed to parade around my friends dressed like a slut. Perverts would be thinking all sorts of things.” His eyes roam your body, fingers lifting your top and caressing the bare skin underneath.

“You mean perverts like you?” You blink at him innocently.

“Exactly.” A grin spreads across his face as he grabs you by the throat and brings you closer to him, his warm breath on your neck. “I want to ruin you.” He drawled in his husky, deep voice and you felt the damp spot in your panties spreading.

You need him to know how much you want him so you lean in to meet his lips in a soft, touching embrace. You feel his smirk disperse into the kiss and he pulls away, laughing.

“What’s funny?” You curve your eyebrows into an adorable swoop.

“You kiss like a…like a-“

“A little girl?” You cross your arms. “How would you know how a little girl kisses?”

“Don’t be an idiot, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just so….innocent. You kiss like you’ve never been hurt before. Like you’ve already given yourself to me.” He brushes past your cheeks with his knuckles.

“That’s because I have.” You declare as you peel off your top, revealing your bare chest to him in the process since you’d decided to forego a bra. He stares at your perky breasts in awe, cupping one softly and brushing over your nipple with his thumb. His cock twitches at the sight of you exposed all for him, legs spread and tits out while your father was asleep down the hall.

“How pretty…when did these grow?” He notes amusedly as his touch becomes harsher, squeezing them with some force. A shudder spreads over your body as your legs instinctively part, needing to feel him inside you.

“Want me to pop your cherry, baby?” He offers and you wince at his lusty tone. Before you even get the chance to nod in confirmation, he’s pulling your panties down, tossing them behind him.

“You know how this is done, yeah?” He asks with half his attention, focus stolen by the sight of your glisteningly wet pussy.

“Uhuh, I do. I’ve seen it.” You choke out anxiously.

“Of course you do, such a smart girl. Have you been watching naughty videos?” He spreads your thighs with an iron grip, gazing directly into the creaminess forming between your legs.

“Only once or twice.” You insist, worried you were going to get in trouble.

“It’s okay darlin’, perfectly natural to be curious about these things.” He rubs his thumb across your clit and you flinch a little at the unfamiliar sensation. “I bet you’ve been struggling with some new feelings, haven’t you?”

You furrow your eyebrows and hang your head in shame. “I get this fuzzy feeling right there where you’re touching me- and it doesn’t go away for so long! Feels like butterflies and I don’t know how to get rid of them.”

“Poor baby, that sounds so tough. You just need someone to help you out, don’t you? Well that’s what daddy’s friends are for, sweetheart.” He coos affectionately and you lean into his touch, feeling so protected.

“Please help me.” You whine, slender fingers fidgeting with the zip of his jeans.

“Such a needy little thing.” He mutters, pushing your hands away to undo the trousers himself, sliding them off until he’s in nothing but his black boxers. Your face scrunches up in disbelief as your fingertips trail the outline of his cock, girthy and hard.

“Don’t give me that look. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.” He redirects your attention to his voice, cupping your face and kissing you sweetly.

“You don’t have to be that gentle.” You murmur into the kiss and he chuckles breathily, hand trailing back down between your thighs to slip a finger inside you.

You gasp at the unexpected intrusion and grab onto his firm shoulder.

“Shh, it’s alright. Just need to loosen you up a lil’ bit.” He hushes you as he adds another one, strong fingers curling up into your squishy flesh. A soft moan escapes your plump lips and a fire rages in your chest when you look down at the sight of his veiny forearm situated between your spread legs, wetness pouring down his large hand.

“Please…I need it.” You whine into his mouth as he sloppily kisses you.

“Be patient, baby. I’m gonna rip you apart if you’re not ready. This tight little pussy couldn’t take it.” He consoles you, pressing his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.

“You said you wanted to ruin me, didn’t you?” You groan, the feeling of his fingers suddenly woefully inadequate. He sighs and slips them out, resting his palm on the cold basin by your thigh.

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any crying.” He warns you with a raised eyebrow before slipping down his boxers and releasing his throbbing cock. You’d never seen one before but your mouth watered and your eyes darkened with lust at the sight.

“Be a good girl and spread those legs for me.” Ever obedient, you open them wide as he shuffles in between you, gliding his ridged tip smoothly over your slit- making you shudder every time the soft skin brushed past your swollen clit.

He lazily pushed the tip in, not bothering to warn you beforehand and you whimpered sharply at the painful stretch. He disregards your discomfort and pushes all the way in, bottoming out until his abdomen grazed yours.

Your lips part, threatening to release another cry but he clamps his hand tightly over your mouth before it can spill out.

“Ah, ah. What did I say?” He tuts softly and stares blankly at your crinkled expression. “You can take it. You’re a big girl, remember?” He begins to rock into you, stretching you out so much you have to grip the edge of the countertop, sharp edge cutting into your palms. The hand that isn’t muffling your moans is at the back of your neck, a firm grasp holding you in place on either end. In this position, he has complete control over your body. You are nothing but a fucktoy to be used for his amusement- and he doesn’t even look that amused.

Your breathy, stifled gasps continue with every thrust as you struggle to adjust to the intensity of his thrusts.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Does it hurt?” He feigns concern but you don’t pick up on his insincerity.

“Y-yes!” You choke back tears, body tensed up as his cock bullied your little cunt relentlessly.

“Good.”

He snakes his hand around your throat and squeezes until you feel your heartbeat pulsating in your neck.

“All I had to do was be a little nice and you let me stick my cock in you.” He leers mockingly. “And with daddy next door, no less. How desperate are you? Are you sure you’re even a virgin?” He swipes a towel off the rack beside him and places it between where your bodies meet. You stare at him in confusion and he smirks.

“This is so he doesn’t hear when I start pounding into you.”

He grabs the panties he tossed aside earlier and gestures for you to open your mouth.

“And this is so no one can hear you scream, baby.” He stuffs the bundle of fabric into your mouth and your eyes widen as he snaps his hips forward, slamming into you roughly. He hooks his hands under your armpits and grips you by the shoulders as he mercilessly pounds into you, the smacks of flesh all but silenced by the towel- apart from the wet sloshing that echoed off the bathroom tiles.

“Do you actually like this? Oh baby, what a sick freak. You really are perfect for me.” He moans at the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your panting growing erratic.

“Can I trust you to be quiet?” He asks and you nod vigorously, wanting so badly to gain his approval. “Yeah? I wanna hear those pretty little moans. But you have to be so quiet baby. Think you can do that f’me?” He whispers into your ear and plants a couple of wet kisses on the side of your face. A string of drool follows as he carefully removes the panties from your mouth, wiping any remnant of spit off your bottom lip with his thumb.

“There we go…” He mutters breathily, the pleasure catching up to him as his thrusts grew sloppier. This is a memory he would cherish forever: the sound of wet squelching as he fucked you into the sink.

He pulled all the way out before harshly burying himself back inside you with a smack of his hips, letting you feel every part of him as if it were your privilege and not his.

You loved the feeling of being caged under him, not able to escape even if you wanted to. The pain subsided and the fuzzy feeling returned, prompted by the way the base of his cock brushed against your clit.

“Aah- oh! Ugh, daddy.” You slurred quietly.

“Silly baby.” He teased. “I’m not your daddy.”

You babbled disjointedly as his hard thrusts sped up, your inner thighs dripping with arousal and sweat.

“Have I fucked you dumb already? Baby doesn’t even know who her daddy is anymore.” He mutters absent-mindedly, staring at the creaminess coating his dick. “I’m doing you a favour, you know? No one wants to fuck a virgin. Too much hassle. So you’re welcome.” He struggles to peel his eyes away from the sight of his painfully hard cock disappearing into your swollen pussy. “Say thank you.” He slams into you especially roughly after you don’t respond.

“Fuck! Th-thank you. Thank you James, thank you so much!” You whine, on the verge of fainting.

“Good girl. Now I’m going to pump you full of my cum- and you’re going to like it.” He sneers and you’re too fucked out to form a response, allowing him to use you in any way he desired instead.

With one final impact, he pounds into your cunt and spills his seed into you, bowing his head to bite you on the shoulder in an attempt to stifle his moans. You can’t do anything but sit there, aching and used up.

He pulls out as his heavy breaths regulate and he sits on the edge of the bathtub, admiring the way his cum leaked out of your abused hole.

“Next time, I’ll teach you how to suck my cock.” He remarks casually and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought of there being a next time.

“Open.” He slaps the side of your leg lightly. “I don’t want to see you wearing panties anymore when I’m around, okay?”

You bite your lip and nod obediently.

“Your dad was right, you really are such a good girl.”

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @slvttedoutmars @emmalandry

[gamorxa]

RESTLESS NIGHTS •°. *࿐

PAIRINGS— paul atreides x valkyrie!reader

SUMMARY—from a young age you’ve been paul atreides’ personal apprentice, your duty being to remain professional in protecting the life of the heir to the house of atreides. however, things change after a rainy night of comforting paul after he awakens from one of his terrible visions.

NOTE—this is my first time writing and publishing anything like this for a character, but after seeing dune two i just had to. expect more creations from me in the future. Constructive criticism is welcome, just keep it nice and kind. let me know how i did!

word count: 1.2k

Valkyries are very protective beings. In battle, their ultimate purpose is to carry the fallen warriors that perished in combat, and were worthy of eternal paradise, to Valhalla where their souls would reside in blissful harmony. However, there wasn’t just one type of valkyrie. A heroine valkyrie is what you were — the kind that only guarded the lives of those dearest to them. Your dearest was no one, but the son of the duke of atreides.

When you were first assigned to the house of atreides you just barely reached the ripe age of seven years old. In those times, your duty merely consisted of being the only company around his age the young boy had in his life. Innocent soft exchanges of giggles escaped from dimpled cheeks that ached from continuous smiles. Small pieces of grass littered the wild heads of curly hair the two of you possessed from previously rolling in the freshly cut grass the maintenance keepers recently trimmed. Within years, the grass turned to responsibilities, and the dimples into abstract bruises from the numerous sparing lessons shared between the two of you. Thus, your years of childish assignments were gone.

Now, you reside in the chambers next door to the young heir in case of any and all emergencies. You lie awake in your pristine silk sheets staring at the ceiling. The thunderous Caladan rain pelted down onto glass windows surrounding you, keeping you awake. This was your first night back from your annual trip to the emperor's headquarters where your sisters remain. No other planets you’ve ever visited didn’t have rain as loud as Caladan’s.

A loud groan breaks the song of raindrops singing along the windows.

You bolt out of bed and grab a dagger with the valkyries signature emblem on the hilt. Your hands turn white in contrast to your usual brown skin from how tight you hold it. Raising to the balls of your feet to remain as silent as possible, you trudge over to the door, leaving the comfort of your room. The marble flooring in the hallway tickles the bottom of your feet, but you barely notice due to your desperation to find the source the sound came from.

More thunder cracks. Another groan.

Your head sharply turns to the left toward Paul's room. Your body turns rigid.

Oh no.

Sprinting, you throw open his mahogany dark wood door making it slam into the back wall. There in rumpled sheets lies the source. His limbs are tangled in his blanket as he thrashes around in his bed, his face scrunched up in an expression of pure anguish. Wild brown curls surround him like a halo while the moonlight shines on his pale skin. He looks like an angel. A fallen angel.

“Paul,” you mumbled, letting your dagger slip from your hands.

He stirs in his sheets, letting out another low groan.

Rushing to the side of his bed, you dropped to your knees and cradle his face scanning the rest of body. Just in case.

“Paul!” you repeated.

He bolts up abruptly making your hands fall onto the bed. He’s panting as he looks around frantically before resting his eyes on you. His expression softens.

“Y/n?” His voice is raspier than normal due to the hours of restless sleep.

“It's okay, it’s okay,” you cooed. Your face filled with concern as you brush some of his wild hair out of his face. “I’m here.”

He sighs out the majority of the tension built up, rubbing his face from sleep with his trembling hands.

“More visions?” Your voice is so soft it tickles his ears creating a blanket of comfort. He doesn’t understand how a strong warrior could possess such a comforting voice, but that's one of the reasons he liked you so much. You never failed to make his worries disappear — not with a voice like that.

He only nods.

“Want to talk about it?” You rise from your spot on the floor to sit on the side of his bed making you at eye level and in closer proximity to the stressed boy. His eyes are slightly glossed over, and he’s avoiding eye contact as if he’s embarrassed.

“No,” he looks down in his lap before locking eyes with you, “I thought you were on your trip?”

You shake your head, “I came home early.”

Home. You saying it so casually almost makes Paul visibly melt.

“I missed you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air like a forbidden secret. Well, it was forbidden seeing as the relationship between the two of you was meant to be strictly professional. However, you two managed to lay on the thin layer of gray area in the matter.

You could only bashfully turn your head away towards the window. You hated how he’d say things like that in random moments. More so, you hated how much your cheeks would turn warm and your lips would scrunch to the corner of your face showcasing a deep dimple in the apple of your cheeks. The rain was still coming down harder without any plans to stop for the night.

The boy grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and redirects your attention to his face. You could only look down at your lap before eventually looking into his eyes.

Desire. Burning desire is what his eyes scream as he looks at you.

You escape his hands and rise to leave a painfully lingering kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest, Mr. Atreides.” You say, slightly teasing as you move to get off the bed. However, he reaches for your hand stopping your movements.

“Stay,” he pleads with desperation laced in his tone.

You hesitate.

“Please, Y/n, I need you.” His eyes are low and bright from the moonlight still coating the inside of his room. His blanket lies low on his waist hiding his boxers, and showcasing his chest of lean and faint abs from his weeks of training. He looked so…

“Fine,” the words slip from your mouth before you realize. Before you know it, he’s scooting over and raising the covers to allow you to easily slip into his sheets. They’re warm from his body heat making you release a sigh of breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He looks at your chest before shyly looking you in the eyes, “Can I-”

You tiredly nod your head and open your arms out welcomingly. The boy immediately goes to rest his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling his legs with yours. This position feels completely natural and comforting from numerous other nights just like this one in the past. Your hands go to his curls and start massaging his head.

“Thank you,” he rasps out, barely staying awake, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” you started, “I’ll always be here.”

You look down to find that the tired boy has already fallen asleep. With a small smile on your face you look up at the ceiling as more lighting cracks outside. You close your eyes assuming he missed your words.

He heard them. He always does.

[mistress-amidala]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❛ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ❜

PAIRINGS: Unburnt Vader x Rebel reader SYNOPSIS: You go on undercover mission as an Imperial, catching the eye of none other than the infamous sith lord, Lord Vader. One of your most notorious enemies, it's a good thing he knows you by your alias. Not by your face. For now at least... WARNINGS: Deceit, smut, swearing... NOTES: This is my first time writing smut so it is by no means a masterpiece. But I hope you like it. This Vader x rebel reader series I read ages ago inspired me to write my own. I can’t find it but if you know what I’m talking about please let me know.

「 You 」

Three years working for the Rebellion, and not once could I have pictured ending up… here.

Bent over, on the desk of Lord Vader. Yes, Lord Vader. Darth Vader, the Emperor’s apprentice. My breath came out shaky. No surprise considering I was being practically impaled by Darth Vader’s cock. Moan after moan tumbled from my lips, my jaw gone slack from my seemingly unending cries of pleasure. My fingers clutched the end of the table like my life depended on it. As it creaked from his unrelenting thrusts, his hips meeting mine. The slapping of skin echoed through the room, followed by his loud grunts and occasional whimpers. His soft yet calloused hands gripped my hips like a vice. My body rocking into the desk with each thrust, his cock stretching me out. It felt like he was about to split me in half, “doing so well for me sweetheart.” He grunts in between sharp thrusts. “Fuck…” He mumbles breathlessly, I could feel his length throbbing inside me. Looking down, I see his balls swinging with each thrust. The warm skin of his palm rubbing my back, “like what you see princess.” Reaching his remaining hand on your hip to your clit. Rubbing circles on the sensitive nub making me jolt. Letting out another moan, “mmm… You like that don’t you sweetheart?” He asks rhetorically, giving another sharp thrust. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, my pussy clenching around his length. As my orgasm hits, cumming all over his cock.

He didn’t relent, continuing to forcefully thrust into me without fail. His cock drilling my cum back into me as he threw his head back. Moaning without shame, “f-fuck sweetheart.” He stutters and I feel his hips tremble as I whine in overstimulation. The tip of his cock kissing my cervix as his breath hitches, his hips jolt forward. Followed by the release of his warm seed, painting my insides white. He collapses forward onto me. His skin sweaty and his weight pinning me to the desk. As he gives a few more slow ruts, a soft whimper escaping him. “Mmm… think I’m gonna have to keep you all to myself.” He whispers, kissing in between my shoulder blades. Stilling his thrusts, running his warm hands up and down my sides gently in a soothing motion. “Hmm? Make you my little Empress, would you like that sweetheart?” He nuzzles into the crook of my neck. Planting soft kisses along the skin there as I caught my breath. “Bet you would…” He whispers, nibbling on my earlobe. “Could have everything you’ve ever dreamed, princess.” Giving my waist a gentle squeeze, “all you’d have to do is warm my bed darling. Have you on your back, taking my cock like a good girl…” He kisses the soft skin behind my ear, making me whimper. “Oh don’t be afraid darling, I’ll take such good care of you.” He whisper sweetly, gently prying my hands off the edge of the table. Rubbing the skin of my knuckles with his thumbs, releasing all the tension.

Intertwining our fingers, his thumbs stroking the back of my hands. He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting my neck. Goosebumps forming in its wake. He rests his chin on my shoulder, “how you feeling my sweet girl?” He asks softly, releasing one of my hands to gently brush the hair out of my face. Making me smile softly, oh maker. I nod slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’m okay…” He chuckles softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. While brushing his fingertips along the skin of my cheek, ever so lightly. As if I’d break if he was any rougher, “yeah? You took me so well sweetheart. So proud…” He gives my shoulder a gentle kiss, I could feel his cock softening slightly. “M’gonna-” He gets cut off my his commlink going off. He groans in annoyance, giving my shoulder another kiss. Before pivoting his head to the side. Picking it up from his desk, smirking slightly at the mess we’d made. I watch him roll his eyes, answering. “What?” He asks bluntly, the annoyance at being disturbed clear in his voice. A sheepish voice responds, clearly picking up on his irritation. “I’m sorry to disturb you My Lord, but the Emperor has personally requested your presence at our current meeti-” I hear him growl softly, the vibrations from his chest travelled into my own. Making me shiver slightly, he noticed. His hand on my cheek travelled back to my waist. Rubbing soft circles comfortingly, “I’ll be there.” He responded shortly, before crushing the commlink. Letting the pieces fall to the floor. He let out a sigh, dropping his head down. His forehead resting on my upper back. Nuzzling into it softly, he reminded me of a puppy. This was the almighty Darth Vader? Surely there has been some sort of mix up? “M’sorry sweetheart, I have to go.” He said softly, his voice just above a whisper. His hand on my waist travels up. Cradling the back of my head, turning it to the side gently. So his lips could meet mine, his kiss was surprisingly soft. All traces of previous annoyance had disappeared. Like footprints being washed away by the sea.

He intertwined our fingers again, giving my hand another gentle squeeze. I could feel him smiling into the kiss. Before he pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against the side of my head. He pulled off me a little. His weight no longer pinning me to the desk, but I could still feel a light layer of his sweat coating my back. He gently flips me onto my back, I wince slightly at the change in angles. Watching as his brows furrowed slightly at the stimulation. He leans back on top of me, his weight now pressing again my front. Chest to chest, I felt my nipples hardening again at the contact. He clearly felt it too as I saw a smirk tugging at his lips… His gorgeous, soft, plump lips… Stop that. He brought both hands up to my face, cupping it softly. Pressing his forehead against mine. Our noses brushing against each other. “You sure you’re okay?” He asks, his eyes searching mine. For something I wasn’t quite sure, was he actually worried about me?

I chuckle softly, “I’m fine.” He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, flicking it gently. His eyes were fixated on my lips as he watched it snap back into place, while he ran his tongue along his own. Coating them in a thin layer of his saliva, the lights in the room reflecting off them.

“Don’t do that…” He whispers, causing me to furrow my brows.

“Don’t do what?” I ask curiously, tilting my head to the side.

Making him bite his lip softly in response, “don’t be so adorable.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” He lets out a puff of air mockingly in response.

Poking the tip of my nose softly, “cheeky little thing.”

I smile softly, “you should probably be getting to your meeting. Sounds… important.” I whisper, observing him. Seeing some of his curls stuck to his forehead from our… activities. I absentmindedly brush them back, out of his face. His eyes watching my movement. Now I noticed his cheeks flushed a pastel pink, from the sex? Or was he… nervous? No way, no surely not…

His gentle voice brings me from my thoughts, “important?” He hums, pressing his soft lips to my forehead. “Probably not,” his husky voice uttered. “Just incompetent imperials needing me to do their work for them.” He all but sighs out, my eyebrows furrowed slightly. And I brought my arms up slowly, wrapping them around his torso. Which felt way more tiresome that it should of, maker what has he done to me? My limbs felt completely useless, I feel him take a deep breath. His chest rising and his stomach pressing into mine. Which also pushed his hips to meet mine, gently thrusting his cock deeper into me. Making me let out a soft whine, as his breath hitches. “Fuck sorry sweetheart I forgot,” he mutters. I could practically feel the grin on his face, as he trails a hand down. Gently pressing on my lower stomach, feeling where he was inside me. Making me jolt, clinging to his back. “Mmm your so warm princess, don’t wanna leave.” He pats my lower stomach softly, I could feel our combined release running down my thighs. “Your pussy’s clenching me so tight, don’t think you want me to leave either… hmm?” I could feel his smirk against my forehead, I poke his ribs in response. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Your really not as funny as you think you are,” I retort. He lifts his lips off my forehead, looking down at me.

“Aren’t I?” He teases, licking his lips.

I shake my head, “nope-” He leans down, silencing me with a kiss. He sucks on my bottom lip softly, while his hands trail up to my breasts. Cupping them, his thumbs toying with my nipples. Making me moan softly into his mouth, my back arching slightly. I pull back a little, and he lets a soft sigh slip.

“I gotta go to work sweetheart,” he mumbles. The disdain at having to leave clear in his voice. I cup his cheek softly, and he leans into my touch.

I try to fight off a smile, “I know…” With one last kiss he reluctantly pulls away, running his fingers along my cheek. He places his other hand on my hip, steadying me.

He looks down at his cock, a grin on his face. He slowly pulls out, letting out a low hiss from the stimulation. He watches our cum leak out of me. Crouching down he holds my legs apart, placing a gently kiss on my pussy. Licking a strip, making me shiver in response. A moan escaping his lips before he stands back up. His naked form on full display as he looks for his discarded clothes. Littered along the floor of his office.

He yanks his boxers and pants back up his legs, tucking his spent cock back in place. Before bending over, picking up his shirt and robe. Damn he has a nice ass for a man. I shake my head, covering my mouth with my hand. Get a grip. I look back to him and he was struggling to tie his robe, muttering curse words under his breath. I sit up slowly, trying to find my balance. “Here,” I offer. He looks up from the messy knot he made, walking back over. Standing in front of me he places his hands on my waist.

Resting his chin on top of my head, “thanks sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” I murmur. Finish tying up his robe, “is it too tight?” I ask, looking up slightly. He shakes his head, cupping the back of mine.

“No it’s good,” he runs his fingers through my hair softly. I felt his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His other hand trail down my back to my ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Before he removes his hand off my ass, scribbling something down on a sticky note. He pulls back to look into my eyes, keeping his hand in my hair. Brushing it softly, his eyes were blue… Weren’t they supposed to be yellow? “What is it?” He asks curiously, I must not of being doing a good job at hiding my confusion.

“Your eyes…” I mutter, before mine drift to something I had yet to notice.

“Oh yes the yellow can be… unnerving.” He whispers the last part, almost as if he was ashamed.

I shake my head, “no that’s not what I meant…” I paused, and he seemed to perk up slightly at my response. I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing when I see my name on a board behind him. A board of the… rebellion. Oh shit this is bad. “Little Minx?” I raise a brow, he immediately broke out into a grin. Looking behind him, to see the board I was staring at.

“Long story…” He turns back to face me, cupping my jaw gently. “My private chambers are just down the hall if you need anything,” he slides the sticky note to me. With the code to his chambers on it, “if anyone gives you any trouble just tell them I sent you.”

He leans closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. Longer for a moment, breathing me in. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, make yourself comfortable.” He pulls away slowly, as if he was reluctant to. He releases his gentle grip on my jaw, to smooth down my hair. Before giving my ass a gentle pat, before heading to the door of his office. Using the force to open the door, show off. “I’ll be in conference room B if you need me darling. Try not to miss me too much,” he winks.

Heading out the door, shutting it behind him. I let out a sigh, “holy shit.” I mumble under my breath, rubbing my face to try to gather myself. I grip the edge of the desk I was currently on… naked. This was so not part of the plan. The plan! The files, I look around. Standing up on shaky legs, my knees buckling for a moment.

To be continued…

Dividers by @vibeswithrenai + @diariodefresa

[dancingtotuyo]

epilogue. the ghosts that we knew

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt and comfort, cancer, TLOU II SPOILERS, death, grief, Major Character Death, afterlife?

Notes: So we come to the end of this beautiful journey. Thank you EVERYONE for all your lovely comments and words over these past several month. I hope you don't hate me too much.

Words: 3942

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You walk the trail every night. Sometimes, Ellie joins you or Maria, but never Tommy. Sometimes you walk alone. You talk to Gabe still. You tell him about Carter. You tell him that you’re okay. But most often, you talk to Joel. It’s not that you loved him more, but it is different. Where Gabe drifted further away in death, you still feel Joel nearby like he’s watching over you. You wonder if Gabe saw Joel coming. Maybe he stepped back so you could have someone next to you.

You tell Joel about your day and how the kids are growing. You pull his smile, the feel of his hand in yours, out of the recesses of your mind, so close to the surface, it's almost tangible. You tell him that you miss him. It takes years, but eventually, you tell him that you’re okay. 

Ellie spends more time with you at the house. She walks with you to take Carter and Willa to school. She comes over for dinner most nights. Together, you tell your favorite Joel stories over dinner. Carter chimes in from time to time. Willa listens for every drop she can glean of the fading figure in her young mind. 

The kids are asleep when Ellie has her first panic attack. The clattering of pots falling to the floor does it. You hold her through it. Your hands aren’t able to fix this one. She sleeps next to you on Joel’s side of the bed that night. It still smells like him. 

It’s a month after Joel’s burial when Tommy comes fumbling in late to your weekly family dinners. He has a lead on the girl who did it. Tension seeps through your bones. You don’t have the same taste for revenge. The idea is bitter in your mouth. 

There’s a lot of shouting. Maria tells Tommy no. That part is clear, but you see the guilt seep through him. He knows he’s not responsible for Joel’s death, but he can’t let it go. It’s no surprise when Maria knocks on your door the next morning that Tommy is gone. Ellie and Dina ride out that morning. Jesse follows suit soon after. 

The familiar fog of grief creeps at the corners of your mind. You can’t let it overtake you this time. You have the kids. Tommy and Ellie’s absence makes it harder, but you push through. You want to do more than just survive. You can almost hear Joel cheering you on. 

You throw yourself into motherhood and training your apprentices. At night, you cry yourself to sleep. Maria and Elias spend more time at your house than theirs. You never say it out loud, but both of you start to wonder if your family unit which was once 8 has dwindled to 5. 

A weight lifts off your chest when Ellie bursts into the clinic. You pull her into a suffocating hug and then inspect her for injuries. There are many, but she’s going to be okay. Tommy’s leg is another story. It’s been too long since he sustained the injury. He’ll walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Dina’s shoulder injury is miraculously not infected, but it’s the subtle swell of her abdomen that makes you lose your breath. 

You’re able to find a strong heartbeat with the doppler. Dina and Ellie share a relieved look. You want to ask but restrain yourself. Ellie will tell you when you need to know. 

You don’t ask where Jesse is. 

Your family dinners resume. Your family table is back to 8 since Dina joined with the ever-growing promise of 9. You know Tommy is still searching for leads on Abby. You pray he never finds them. Things between him and Maria aren’t good. Ellie says she’s done seeking her out. 

Ellie spends a lot of her free time riding outside the wall. You don’t ask questions. Joel liked to wander too. Sometimes she shares about the things she saw, but oftentimes she just shares a knowing grin with Dina. There’s a twinge in your heart. You used to do the same with Joel. 

Autumn is in the air when you finally open Joel’s drawers. Maria hasn’t said anything about Joel’s clothes, but you know you need to go through them, distribute what’s wearable to people who need it. It still smells like him. Tears spring in your eyes. It’s been so long that you have started to forget it. Closing your eyes, you can feel him next to you, behind you, in front. He’s all around. His soft voice echoes deep within your brain almost like he’s whispering in your ear. The tears fall in steady streams. 

You save 2 shirts, one for Carter and one for Willa. Ellie has his watch, and you have the kids. The rest of his shirts and jeans go into the box. Then you clean out his sock drawer, checking each for holes, which most of them have. A small smirk crosses your face. You and Sarah used to do the laundry. His socks always had holes then too. Some things never change. You pull two socks apart, and something flashes in the light before hitting the floor with a soft ping. You toss the socks into the box, feeling around for the item. You find it just under the dresser. 

You hold the thin, gold band in your palm. It feels so delicate in your hands. Diamond chips encrust half of the band, shimmering in the light. Your eyes water again. It slips on with just enough resistance that it won’t slip off: a perfect fit. How long did he have this? Was he going to give it to you? 

Yes. It whispers in your bones. 

Not as a proposal, you know that, but a sign of his commitment. You slip it back off. Something doesn’t sit right about wearing it on your finger for the whole world to see. You want to keep this between you and Joel for a little while.

You open up the box on your dresser. It contains your wedding band, untouched since you placed it there years ago, a few pairs of earrings, and the gold chain your dad gave you the day you graduated nursing school. You slide the ring onto the chain. It rests underneath your shirt, near your heart.  

You give Maria the box to distribute. You don’t tell her about the ring. It stays tucked under your shirt.

The night of Joel’s birthday, you reach for the last of the coffee beans pushed in the back of the  cupboard. There’s something therapeutic about the movements- grinding the beans and boiling the water. 

When you open the cupboard, the owl mug sits at the forefront. You freeze. You don’t know how it got there. It’s stayed pushed to the back since his death, but it makes you hold your breath. You despised that thing so much, but now you reach for it, filing it with coffee.

“Make enough for two?” Ellie says.

You spin around to find her sitting at the kitchen table. You smile weakly. “I can make it stretch.”

You know her disdain for it but say nothing, filling a second mug for her. The two of you sit in silence, steaming cups of coffee in front of you until Ellie gives up trying to choke it down. She pours the remainder of her mug into yours. You chuff, smile tipping your lips. 

“I don’t know how that old man drank this shit.”

“Yeah, this isn’t great, but you know Joel.”

“Never saw him turn down a cup of coffee.”

“No, I don’t think he ever did.” You take another sip of coffee, eyes watering with unshed tears.

Ellie invites you to join her on a ride one day. You take her up on the offer. You ride side by side for most of the trek. It’s apparent she’s taking you somewhere. 

“Ever been out this way?”

“Joel used to pull me out of Jackson from time to time. We spent time in the wildflower fields. Bugged the hell out of the council.” You laugh. 

Ellie smiles. “And before?”

“I never got so far past this side of Jackson.”

“Something new to see,” Ellie says, excitedly then hesitates slightly. “Joel took me to a museum once for my birthday. They had a dinosaur and a space exhibit. He tracked down an old tape from one of the rocket launches. It was one of the best days of my life.” 

“I remember when he found the museum. He couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to show you.” you smile at the memory. “He talked about that day a lot. It was one of his favorites.”

Ellie pulls her horse to a stop and you follow suit. “He was really good at that, making sure there were good days.”

“He was.”

“I’m not sure how many good days are left for me in Jackson.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you push down the panic rising in your chest. You can’t lose another person. “Oh?”

“Dina and I… we’ve been talking about what we want after the baby is born.” 

You try to focus on her words, not the ringing in your ears. “Is that why you brought me out here?”

“I wanted to show you.” Ellie grins, kicking her horse forward.

You furrow your brow following after her. Your questions are answered as you burst into a clearing. An old farmhouse comes into view. It appears to be in relatively good condition. A partial fence circles widely around the property. It’s new. 

You look over at Ellie who wears a look of pride and ownership over the small estate. “You did this?”

Ellie nods. “Dina and I are gonna move after the baby is born. I’ve been working to get the fence finished and the inside livable”

Tears prickle at the back of your eyes. There aren’t words for how you feel. You’re sad that Ellie won’t be across the street anymore, but you’re proud of her for carving out her own space in this world. She’s not far, you remind yourself. There’s something else about it tugging in your soul. Joel would love this place. 

“You and Carter and Willa can come visit us anytime,” Elie says as if she can read your thoughts. 

“Ellie, it’s amazing.” 

She looks relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Now show me inside.”

The sun is setting as the settlement walls fade into view. You two spent too long at The Farm, you know it, but you hadn’t seen Ellie’s eyes light up like that in a long time. She is bouncing off the walls. It’s good to be out from behind the city walls. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Of course.”

“It’s just... ” Ellie bristles. “You’ve been quiet since we left.” 

“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking.”

“Oh.” 

You let it settle over the two of you for a while. “Joel always talked about finding a farm nearby. Getting out of the walls.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I did a shitty job of training other people to do my job. I didn’t feel like I could leave.”

Ellie nods. 

“I asked him what kind of farm he wanted.” You smile at the memory. “He always said-”

“Sheep.” Ellie finishes. “Because they’re quiet and do what they’re told.” 

You laugh. “Exactly.” 

You’re back within the walls of Jackson as the sun dips behind the mountains. You walk down the streets side by side in silence. Ellie turns for her house. 

“Ellie, I’m proud of you.” She stops in her tracks and turns around. Lights from the house sparkle off her eyes. “I don’t know if that means a lot coming from me-”

You’re cut off when she collides into your chest, arms squeezing you tight. You squeeze back. “Thank you.” It’s soft on her voice. 

JJ is a few months old when Ellie and Dina move out to The Farm. You go out to visit them occasionally, sometimes with the kids and sometimes not. The first time you go alone, the wildflowers are in bloom. You take a 15-minute pitstop to collect yourself when you first spot them. You leave The Farm early to walk through the same wildflowers Joel used to take you to. 

The breeze plays in your loose hair. You slip off your boots and let your toes curl into the unkempt ground. You see Joel’s smile in the Prairie Fire, hear his laugh in the Columbine. 

Here, the familiar whisper behind your ear says. 

You still wear the ring on your chain. It feels warm under your shirt. Unclasping it, you let the gold band fall into your palm. You slip the ring on your finger for the first time since you found it, and it stays there.

You pick a bouquet of wildflowers. They sit on your kitchen table for a week, and it feels like Joel hand-delivered them. Willa stares at them with her head cocked to the side, chin resting on the table. The tilt of her head reminds you of Joel. She has his soft curls that gather right at the bottom of her neck. The wonderment in her eyes reminds you of Sarah. You can’t help but kiss her head, let your fingers trail through her hair. His rings sparkles on your finger under the sun streaming through the window. You wonder if she feels the same draw toward the flowers that her dad did. 

Willa smiles up at you. “Feels nice, mommy.” His Little Wildflower. She’s growing like a weed.

Carter struggles. He doesn’t talk. He spends most of his days in his bedroom. Joel always found a way to get him to talk, to smile. He may be the spitting image of his father- but it’s clear he got your temperament- your way of handling his feelings. 

You take him to The Farm, just the two of you. He helps in the barn, rolls around with the sheep, and walks the fence line with Ellie for hours. You hear him laugh while you hold JJ on the front porch. Even though they don’t share blood with him, you see bits of Joel in both their mannerisms. They learned how to interact with the world from him. 

Carter is excited when they get back. Ellie is going to teach him how to shoot next time you visit. You swallow back tears. Joel promised to teach him once he turned 10. Carter talks your ear off the whole way home. 

Tommy still looks for leads on Abby. You pray he never finds one. Things between him and Maria are tense. Elias spends a lot of time at your house. Your worst fears are realized when Maria bangs on your front door at 6 am one morning. Tommy’s found a lead. He’s going to talk to Ellie. 

You tear into Tommy in the middle of the street when he gets back that evening. “What the fuck are you thinking!?”

He brushes you off. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Like hell you are! How dare you bring Ellie back into this!” You’re a mama bear, fiercely protecting her cub. “You fucking asshole! Do you know how hard she’s worked to be okay?”

“She wants justice just as bad as I do!” You’re sure the whole town is watching from their windows, but you don’t care. 

“This isn’t justice! It’s revenge!” You can’t push back the tears that come. Your family table can’t grow smaller. You can’t lose Tommy too. “Where does it fucking end? With us all in the ground? He wouldn’t have wanted this!”

“How can you say that?” Tommy gets in your face. It’s a scare tactic you’ve seen him use before. You don’t flinch. “That bitch took him from us! She made us slide that knife into his heart. She deserves it- and worse!”

“You will not drag my children into this, Tommy!”

“Did you really love him? Or was it all just-”

Your hand collides with his cheek before he can finish. “How dare you!” You’re shaking with rage. Tommy holds his cheek in his hand. “Joel would’ve wanted you here with your wife and son! He would’ve wanted us to keep having family dinners, and holidays together! He would’ve wanted us to live! Not just survive! I’m trying to live, Tommy! Because going back into survival would kill me! And it’ll do the same to Ellie!”

“If she doesn’t go, I go.” Tommy walks away. 

You ride out to The Farm the next morning. Dina looks relieved when you climb the front porch stairs. Ellie is in her drawing room. She’s added more portraits since you were here last. They’re mostly Dina and JJ, but there’s one of Carter from his last visit, Willa from behind, Joel with his guitar on the porch, playing catch with Carter, dancing with Willa. All as clear as pictures. It hits you how much she observed, took in even when she looked in from a distance. The last one steals your breath for a minute. Two silhouettes dance on a front porch.

You have to swallow back the emotions before you speak. “I know Tommy was here yesterday.” 

And then she cries in your arms. You brush her hair away from her face as she does. You make out limited information. The panic attacks keep coming. She can’t make them stop. She thinks this will make them stop. Your hands, so used to healing, feel useless. 

With her head in your lap, she looks like that 14 year old girl you met years ago. “It’s not your fault, Ellie.”

She looks up at you through bloodshot eyes. “He would’ve never killed that doctor if it wasn’t for me.”

I would do it all again. It comes through so tangible. You repeat it to her. You tell her it’s not her fault. You tell her that Joel learned to live again because of her. You want the same thing for her. Don’t let vengeance overtake her. You want her to live life how it’s meant to be lived, not the violent cycle it’s turned into. Joel wants her to live. 

Ellie stays on the farm with Dina and their son. She comes to see you in Jackson more often. All three of them do. The two of you talk about the day Joel died and what she saw. She finds out what helps her get through the panic attacks. It’s not easy, but they start to come less frequently. 

Tommy goes after Abby. You feel like you lose another piece of Joel as his figure disappears into the tree line. You hold Maria as she cries. No one sees her cry but you. The roles are reversed, but you know how to give her support and comfort. You learned from the best. 

I’m still here, Darlin. You have all of me.

You hear nothing from or of Tommy for months. It turns into years. Maria blames herself. She told him to not come back. Elias is getting into trouble at school. You’re all shocked when Tommy returns two years later. He moves into Joel’s house across the street. He never found her. 

Maria and Tommy coexist. They both join family dinners. They co-parent Elias well, but they don’t reunite. 

Life isn’t always easy, but you make it through, all of you. Most importantly, you experience life. The ups and downs, the twists and the turns, and you do it together because you’re family. 

It’s the morning of Willa’s 16th birthday when you find it. A lump in your breast. Just 1 from what you can tell. You comb your mind for any other signs. None that you can recall. Maybe it’s benign. You push back the memories of your grandmother’s battle with breast cancer, but the tears still emerge. 

I’ve got you. You swear you can almost feel Joel’s arms around you. 

You don’t tell anyone. You spend more time outside the walls. You’ve trained up several people to provide medical care. Morgan can suture better than you. Sharon has steadier hands. Willa is already an expert herbalist, growing and cultivating medicinal herbs and plants. If something happens to you, Jackson will still have good medical care.

Joel seems closer than ever these days, like the veil between worlds is thinning. Sometimes you swear you see a flicker of him like a mirage in the wildflowers, or in the corner when the whole family is together. You were never sure what you thought about higher powers and the afterlife, but you’re sure there’s something there.  

You find another lump two years later. A third shows up soon after. You start to notice other changes in your body. You’re tiring easier.  

You’re more intentional about the time you spend with the kids. You make sure they know the stories they can’t remember. Carter teaches you how to shoot a bow. Willa teaches you about all the herbs in her greenhouse. You spend whole weeks at The Farm. It’s the end of summer when you know you have to start telling people. You tell Ellie while the two of you watch the sunset from the porch swing. She hugs you. There are tears, but there's peace to them. 

You faint while on a walk with Maria at the start of September. You tell her, and then you tell the kids. It’s one of the hardest things you have to do. Even at 21 year old, Carter goes to stone as Willa cries in your arms. 

You’re confined to your bed by Christmas. You sleep most of the day. Everyone comes for Christmas. Carter carries your shrinking frame to the couch. There’s laughter and jokes. You notice Maria’s hand in Tommy’s, but you don’t ask. 

Joel catches your eye from the corner. He looks younger. In his early 40s or so, you think. He smiles at you. He’s never been so clear. He’s waiting for you.

You stop eating after Christmas. Your thoughts start to feel disjointed, words scratch at your throat and you can’t push them out. Breathing takes all your energy. Willa has extracted opium from poppies. It helps. You hear their voices filter in. Willa, Carter, Ellie, Dina, Maria, JJ, and finally Tommy. They talk to you, but you can’t respond. They reminisce. It brings comfort to you as you feel their voices slipping away until you can’t hear them anymore. It’s dark and silent. 

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by bright clear skies. The wind rustles through the wildflowers around you. A bird chirps in the distance. You stretch out your legs with the delectable sensation only available after a sun soaked nap. 

You close your eyes again, you can see Jackson. Willa and Carter are bickering about something. They walk your evening path. Willa is giving Carter a hard time about his latest romantic encounter. You can see The Farm. Dina and Ellie sit on the front porch. JJ is doing his chores. It all feels so close, but you feel separate. You can see it all happening, walk through it with just a thought, but you can’t interact with the world.

There’s a deep chuckle in your ear. You turn your head. Joel lays next to you, a smile on his face. His hair is less gray than last time you saw him. The creases around his eyes aren’t as deep. 

His hand touches yours. It’s warm. You’ve passed to the other side of the veil. Your heart leaps.

“Hey Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Tag List: @pedrotonin@amyispxnk@joeldjarin@ilovepedro@justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981@jessthebaker@annieispunk@ashleyfilm@moel-jiller

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[shanastoryteller]

Happy Fall Season! 🍁🍂🌻🎃👻🧛🏻‍♀️ … Three faced goddess continuation 👉🏻👈🏻? God dammit shana i fucking loved this prompt, 2012 Tony is the only version that has rights and I’ve had such a problem with him ever since aou, but your writing took me back to when I actually loved his character

a continuations of 1

Rhodey heads to the smith, unsurprised to see a line of people outside of it, waiting for the man inside to succumb to his need to eat or sleep and pounce on him for whatever issue they believe needs his immediate attention. Peter is among them, the closest to an apprentice that exists, but he can’t enter the forge without everyone else pushing in too, so he waits with all the rest of them.

When they see him coming, they groan, knowing their chances have been destroyed, except for Peter, who just looks relieved.

He remembers a time when Edward belonged to him alone. Edward exists because of him, after all, and needs must, but sometimes he can’t help but resent that this is another piece that he’s had to share.

“When I walk back out, it better be to an empty hallway,” he says blandly.

He receives a chorus of, “Yes, General,” and a jaunty wave from Peter before he’s opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind him.

In the beginning, the alchemy lab and the forge had occupied the same space, the outpost not yet big enough to have the rooms to spare. It had been quickly remedied once Rhodey had found about it, because the last thing any of them needed was losing him to an explosion of his own making, but he can’t say he’s surprised to see a cauldron bubbling ominously in the center of the room. “You have a lab for a reason.”

Surprised brown eyes snap up to meet his, and then there’s that familiar grin that always causes tension to unspool from his spine, even when it really shouldn’t. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. How goes the battle on the Eastern border?”

As if he doesn’t know. “They’re retreating. Our soldiers are holding the line and it looks like they’ve given up attacking us on that front. For now.”

“Sounds like something you should tell the king,” he says, frowning down into the cauldron as if it’s personally disappointed him.

Rhodey closes the distance between them, grabbing his chin and tilting his head to the side, frowning at the bruising mostly hidden by his hairline. “I am. But it’s a bit of wasted effort, considering the king is half the reason for their retreat.”

“Just half?” he pouts. “I really think that I deserve more credit-”

Rhodey kisses him to shut him up, a strategy that he’s been employing since they were teenagers, the whole reason necessitating Edward in the first place.

The second prince could not be scene dallying with someone so below him in station, the fact they were known to be friendly was a fluke of a broken wagon and much derision to all who heard of it. But Edward was no one, an educated fifth son of some nameless noble with a talent for metalwork, and no one cared if he kissed a commoner.

Then war had come knocking and a king could not do what needed to be done and so Edward had shifted from Rhodey’s to the country’s overnight.

Tony hums happily against his mouth and Rhodey pulls back rather than deepening it. Half the trick with was not letting him get distracted. “You need to get some sleep. Have you slept at all since getting back from the battle?”

The deep bruises under his eyes already tells him the answer, but it’s still worth asking.

“Need to figure this out,” he says, tilting his head to the cauldron. “It’s a coating for the blades to get them sharp enough to cut through armor. Not our armor, obviously, but other people’s.”

“A day,” he says, because Tony is needed everywhere at all times in all ways, and someone has to keep him from running himself into an early grave, and at the outpost, that’s him. “Just a day at home. I know you miss it. It’s been a while.”

Tony’s eyes go distant and fond. “Yes,” he agrees, and that one word has all the exhaustion that he won’t let show.

“You disappear all the time, no one will question it,” he murmurs, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’ll go if you will,” he returns. “You haven’t been home in even longer than I have.”

“Less of a need,” he argues, and he should argue against this too, when it’s unnecessary and dangerous, but he’s tired too. “Fine. We’ll need to sneak out to the woods if you don’t want to get caught.”

Tony clearly hadn’t expected him to agree that easily. “You hate flying.”

He hates how much pain it puts Tony in, but since he’s flying either way to get home, it doesn’t matter. “I’ll deal.”

Tony kisses him again, writes down some notes, douses the cauldron, and then they’re using the secret entrances that had actually been the whole point of building a lab near the forge. When they’re far enough away, Tony’s chest glows, the light and sparks spreading out from his chest to effulge his body and liquid gold and mercury sliding down his limbs. Rhodey has to close his eyes against the light, but Tony’s arms around him are always welcome, even when they burn almost too hot to stand.

The Iron Mage flying to the castle is a common enough sight that it raises no alarm and the brightness of Tony in flight means no one can tell he has a passenger, seen as nothing more than their own personal shooting star.

Tony melts the iron shutters back with a wave of his hand, likely reforming it behind them with a more intricate pattern than they’d been wrought with, because he always had such opinions about anything he hadn’t crafted himself.

He’s barely set Rhodey back onto his feet and folded the star back inside himself when there’s the running of little feet coming straight for them. Rhodey’s not surprised.

She’s always watching the stars, looking for her father.

Tony bends to pick up Morgan as she rounds the corner, barreling towards him with single minded intensity. “Daddy!”

“Hey, buttercup,” he says, hoisting her into her arms and settling her on his hip. “Miss me?”

“Yes,” she answers, wrapping her arms around Tony’s neck in a hug. She turns her head to grin at him, Tony’s eyes shining in her face. “Hi Rhodey. I missed you too.”

“Hi, Princess,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She frees one arm from Tony to grab onto the front of his jacket, keeping him in place. He settled a hand on her back and that seems to satisfy her.

The door pushes open and Pepper is standing there, still with hair up and braided around a circlet and in a deep blue silk gown. “Someone here is supposed to be asleep.”  

Tony and Morgan’s innocent faces are identical and equally unconvincing.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Rhodey asks.

“It’s all three of you, really,” she answers, striding forward. She squeezes his shoulder, then uses it as balance to push herself to her tip toes.

Tony bends to meet her in a kiss, chaste enough that Rhodey doesn’t feel the need to pull away but long enough that he assumes Tony’s sleep might end up experiencing a delay.

“I don’t want to go bed,” Morgan says. “Daddy’s home.”

“I’ll be here in the morning,” Tony says and Pepper’s face relaxes. “Come on, I’ll put you to bed myself, okay? And then you can tell me about all the new things you learned over breakfast.”

“I’m not tired,” she insists, but only waves at him when Tony pulls away to take her to her room.

Rhodey waves back, almost goes with them, but having the two of them there will just make her twice as riled up.

“I could have another, you know.”

He looks down at Pepper, blinking. “I thought – after the war?”

After the cave, after swallowing a star rather than being swallowed by it, Tony couldn’t justify staying on the sidelines, couldn’t justify only contributing to the war as Edward. Besides, being captured in the first place had shown him that he wasn’t safe as Edward anyway, but even Tony couldn’t justify taking to the battlefield without an heir, without a child of Stark blood to inherit, without a queen who could rule both while he fought and invented and in the event of his death.

Prince Gregory had been ten years older than Tony, he’d been the boy everyone knew would be king. Tony was just the spare, and not even one had on purpose. It’s why he’d had the freedom to meet Rhodey in the first place, to take on the name Edward and poke and prod his way through universities and labs and harassing blacksmiths into teaching him a craft a prince was never supposed to know. They’d assumed his father would arrange his marriage to some foreign noble for political reasons and Tony would install her onto an estate and do what was necessary to add a couple kids to the royal line and that would be that, he would then be free to spend his time on pursuits he enjoyed and with the man he loved. He was just the second prince, after all, it’s not like what he did really mattered, and he and Prince Gregory had never gotten along anyway.

Lots of people hadn’t gotten along with Prince Gregory, lots of people had thought his temper and his cruelty and several other attributes made him unsuitable as king. Maybe, on their own, they wouldn’t have mattered much – Rhodey thought Prince Gregory was not so much worse than King Howard – but he was constantly compared to the brother ten years his junior and found lacking.

They never found out who was behind the attack that killed Tony’s parents and brother. With their enemies sensing weakness and declaring war soon after, it was easy to pin the blame on them. But there were persistent rumors that it’d been someone, or several someones, that wanted Tony on the throne over his brother.

Rhodey doesn’t know if it’s true. All he knows is that relief rippled through the country far heavier than mourning.

The relationship he and Tony had, the future they’d mapped out, had been possible for a snubbed second prince and utterly impossible for a king. Tony had put off marriage for longer than he should have, but he couldn’t forever, and his urge to get out and fight now that he could pressed down on him.

Pepper had been his friend first. Their friend first. A noble, but only barely, and utterly unsuitable for the title of queen according to her pedigree and also the only one Tony would agree to marry so the rest hadn’t mattered.

If she were anyone else, he thinks he would have hated her. But Pepper had come to him after Tony had asked her and said, “I love him,” like throwing down a gauntlet.

He’d known. Who couldn’t help but love Tony, once they got to know him? And Pepper was beautiful and competent and trustworthy, could have Tony’s children and lead his country and keep all his secrets. And Tony might be able to resist falling in love with Pepper when she was only his friend and confidant, but as his wife, the mother of his children, his queen? He would fall.

“I want what’s best for him,” she’d continued in what he thought was going to be the worst conversation of his life, “and that’s me and you. He would never give you up. You know that. You should have a little more faith in him.”

“He needs you,” he’d said quietly. What Tony needed is something he couldn’t be, he wasn’t a noble or a woman.

Pepper had lifted her chin in defiance, every inch the queen she was going to become. “He needs us.”

That had been years ago. They made it work, awkwardly and painfully at first, but much smoother these days, warmer and easier. When the war ends, he thinks things might even be easy.

Tony and Pepper had needed to have a child and quickly, to secure the succession. She’d been pregnant within four months of their marriage and Princess Morgan’s birth had been greeted with relief by the country. Still, more heirs are better, especially with Starks being thin on the ground, but Tony resisted the idea of having another child in the midst of war, another child that he might die on and abandon.

Which is what makes Pepper’s statement so confusing.

“I didn’t mean right this second,” she says, lips turning up at the corners. “I know I’m not exactly your type, but I certainly wouldn’t mind the process myself. Morgan’s yours, of course, but if you wanted – I wouldn’t mind. Tony wouldn’t either.”

He understands what she’s offering and he’s shaking his head before she’s even finished talking. “We can’t – they’d know.”

“Maybe the next one will take after my genes,” she says. “Goddess knows Morgan’s all her father.”

She is, so clearly Stark, from her eyes to her intelligence to her love of trouble. But there’s no way a child of his could pass as a child Tony’s, which is what any child of the queen’s would have to be. Even if they came out pale enough to pass as a Stark, which isn’t any sort of risk they could take, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of anyone finding out that a child in line for the throne was not of the Goddess blessed bloodline.

“Tony’s children are my children,” he says, and means it. Pepper and Tony had always been clear about that and it had been a relief, to not have to be so close and yet so far, to be able to love Morgan as his daughter even if it was nothing he could ever say out loud. “Go and help him with her. I know you have a lot to catch up on.”

He’ll go to his room, with the bed and comforts that he’s missed quiet a lot, and get the sleep that he’s also missed.

She sighs, squeezing his arm. “Don’t wander. I get up early and Tony never sleeps through it.”

Tony will get up with her, and kiss her as she heads to the hall, then go down to his room and crawl into bed with him, still sleep warm, until he has to get up and put in an appearance as King Anthony.

Rhodey smiles and nudges her towards the hall. “Go on, your husband is waiting.”

“Our husband,” she corrects imperiously and doesn’t move until he laughs and nods and repeats her words back to her.

[another-lost-mc]

library games

solomon likes to tease his apprentice, but things are bound to change the day he takes it a little too far.

solomon x gn!reader

1.7k words | nsfw | resolved sexual tension

cw: possessive behaviour, suggestive but not explicit sexual content.

a/n: this scenario takes place after the events of overture but can be read as a one-shot.

dark serenade series: part one: overture part two (you are here)

The first thing you notice when you step into Solomon’s library for today’s lesson is the sorcerer himself, his coat hanging off the back of his chair and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s leaning back in his seat with an open book in his lap and he doesn't look up when you enter the room.

You know the moment he’s aware of your presence because his eyes stop scanning the page and there’s a deliberate pause before he closes his book and glances at you expectantly. He smirks and crooks his finger, urging you forward from where you’ve paused in the doorway.

You’re carrying the tomes he assigned as yesterday’s homework and set them on the desk - yellowed, dusty texts filled with magical theory and spells that seem far above your current ability. You’re ready to take your seat, but you realize that Solomon is sitting in the only chair. There should be extras in a room nearby, but he sighs loudly when you turn around to fetch one.

“Can I ask where you’re going?” he asks with a hint of impatience.

“I’m going to get another chair, but I’ll be right back,” you explain quickly, waiting by the door for his approval.

He seems disappointed and you don’t understand why at first, but then he pushes his chair back and pats his thigh invitingly. “If you need a place to sit, my lap is always an option, my darling apprentice.” 

You should be immune to his flirtatious banter by now, but the invitation is so surprising that it makes you sputter and rush away to find a chair that is most definitely not his lap. He chuckles quietly behind you, but by the time you drag another chair into the library, the lighthearted moment between you has passed.

He can be mischievous at times, but you know not to test his patience when his mood turns serious. 

With a flick of his wrist, one of the books with yesterday’s homework slides across the table towards him and you hurriedly take a seat at his side.

“Let’s see how much you’ve learned, shall we?”

After nearly an hour, you’re overwhelmed by the whiplash of his brutal criticism and genuine encouragement. He is relentless as a teacher, correcting you with a firm tone when you can’t recite incantations or complex rituals perfectly from memory. The warm praise he offers when you do answer his questions correctly soothes your rattled nerves like a balm.

You lean back with a sigh and glance at Solomon who’s grown silent next to you. There’s a strange intensity in his gaze that makes you want to hide from his scrutiny. The tense moment passes and he says you’re advancing ahead of schedule. You can’t help how your cheeks grow warm at his appraisal and the pleased twinkle in his eye.

You had fair warning at the beginning of your apprenticeship that he wouldn’t tolerate laziness, disappointment, or failure from you; knowing that you’re exceeding his expectations makes you unspeakably happy. He’s more than a teacher to you, and above all else, you know he considers you a friend - and that’s not a word a man like Solomon uses lightly.

Lately, he seems even more daring as he teases along the boundary that separates friendship and something more romantic. From the early days of your acquaintance, his wisdom and strength gave you comfort and stability. You can’t help but feel uncertain now that he’s becoming noticeably more affectionate.

When it comes to Solomon, you know nothing is ever what it seems. You deflect his flirting and dodge his wandering hands with shaky resolve while you try to piece together the truth behind his intentions. It would be so easy to give into the temptation, to let him guide you down another new path in your relationship, but you don’t want to risk heartache later if your assumptions about his feelings for you are incorrect.

Solomon pushes his chair away from the table abruptly and it shakes you from your thoughts. He collects some of the books into his arms and he heads towards the towering wall of shelves behind you.

“I’ll put these away so you can take a short break before we begin today’s lesson,” he offers. He must be in a good mood because he’s humming cheerfully while he returns his books to their proper places.

You’re about to escape to the kitchen to make tea for both of you when he makes a questioning noise. As though he senses your curious gaze on his back, he says without turning around, “I left one of the books on the table. Would you be a dear and hand it to me?”

It’s the smallest book you were given to read after yesterday’s lesson, pushed out of the way early on once he was satisfied you had absorbed its contents. You reach for it but it seems to slide out from under your fingers and further away across the table. You frown and lean forward with your hand stretched out as far as you can manage. Your palm smacks against bare wood as the book slides away yet again.

In one last-ditch effort, you’re on the tips of your toes and nearly flat against the table; you grin triumphantly when you finally have the cover trapped under your fingertips. Your victory is short-lived when an unexpected weight brushes against your back. It causes you to jerk suddenly and the book slips from under your tentative hold. You groan in frustration when it falls over the other side of the table and flops onto the floor.

“I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk like this for days,” a low voice whispers into your ear. 

You’re stunned when you realize Solomon is standing behind you, leaning over you and resting his palms on the table so his arms cage your body in place. You can feel the heat of his body against your back, but he’s not quite touching you. It doesn't matter if he's touching you or not - you're still trapped beneath him.

“You were moving the book on purpose,” you mumble in embarrassment. Your mouth is dry and your cheeks burn when you realize the suggestive position you’re both in. You can’t turn to look at him without bumping against his chest so you hang your head in defeat instead.

It’s not the first time you’ve fallen for one of his tricks and it won't be the last.

One of Solomon’s hands strokes your hip and you try not to squirm. “It was an amusing game at first,” he admits and you know from his tone that he’s smiling. You feel his chest press against your back when he moves closer. His nose is in your hair, and you hear him breathe in deeply. His exhale is a sigh that tickles your ear. “But now that I have you like this, I’m not willing to let you go so easily.”

You try to ignore the hand that’s slowly making its way under your shirt. “Maybe we should talk about this first,” you suggest, but your voice is shaking and your protest sounds weak.

Solomon tuts disapprovingly like your suggestion is barely worth responding to. His fingers make their way across your waist and follow the slope of your belly, squeezing the soft folds of skin with the tiniest bit of pressure that sets your nerves ablaze.

Every time you start to doubt why he’s attracted to you, he distracts you - with murmured desires in your ear, his fingers searching for the places on your body that are most sensitive - and you know he’s doing it on purpose to prove his point.

He continues exploring your chest, rubbing over the pact marks etched into your skin like his touch can erase them. He doesn’t care that his body is littered with the evidence of his own pacts, but jealousy makes his blood boil when he thinks about others having a claim over you. Mine, he thinks when he gives into the temptation to grind against you, letting you feel your effect on him, the way his feelings for you rob him of nearly all self-control.

“Solomon, please—” you plead desperately; whether you want him to keep going or to stop is impossible to say at this point. You’re drowning in the heat of his body so close to yours, the frustration you can feel radiating from him in waves, the possessive hold he has on you.

“You’re mine,” he seethes between gritted teeth, crushing your body to his as he continues to move against you. His hands are exploring freely now, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, kneading your soft flesh in apology after. He nips at your throat and drags his teeth against your shoulder. He bites down harder than he intends when he hears the first soft, breathy whimper escape you.

When you finally start to move, pushing your hips back against his, it rips a guttural moan from him and snaps the last tethers of his restraint. There’s a hand fisted in your hair and he pulls your mouth towards his. It’s less of a kiss and more of a heated exchange of needy, panting breaths as your quiet moans echo his own desperate sounds. He manages to draw your bottom lip into something resembling a kiss - the first kiss between you - and it gives you a moment of clarity.

“Not here,” you plead against his lips with the last bit of coherency you can muster. You’ve imagined what it might be like to finally give in to him, but you don’t want your first time together to be on an old, uncomfortable desk in his library. 

He seems to understand exactly what it is you want - like he always does -  because his body stutters to a halt and he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. He moves back enough to turn you around in his arms, and the lustful haze that darkens your eyes makes him powerless to resist you. He pulls you against him and he feels your hands clench in the back of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear. He brushes his lips against yours, a silent promise that he’s never going to let you go.

“Next time,” he teases with a wicked grin before teleporting you both to his bedroom with an audible pop.

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me masterlist

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Chapter Four

Drops of Jupiter Train

Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous)

Masterlist

Summary: The return of Y/N and a reunion of a mentor and apprentice / More description on how her friends reacted to her 'Death'

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Reader in pain, cursing, more jealous and mean Sirius, descriptions of death and mourning, PTSD (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 3274

“It's really not that bad, we’re lucky she didn't give us detention!” James laughed as he shoveled spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth, making Remus give him a look between disgust and disappointment as he continued to talk through the food. 

“You should really get to know her before you judge her, Sirius.” Peter piped up, being bold, but the look Sirius sent him made him quickly look down at his hands. 

“Get to know her? She's wicked! Not the good kind! Not to mention, may I remind you, a Slytherin?” He spat the house name out like it was venom on his tongue. Remus rolled his eyes and scoffed, making Sirius give him a look. 

“And, may I add, a pureblood witch.” He sneered. “The {L/N}s are horrid! Knowing they do business with my parents is enough reason to steer clear of her. But then she runs around with my brother of all people! Crouch and Rosier? Whatever, but then you add in Snape. She's a dark witch for sure.”

“You're one to talk.” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Sirius snapped.

“She's nothing like her parents.” Remus snapped back, eyes narrowing at Sirius and James gave a huff. 

“She's like my sister, watch it, Padfoot.” James muttered past a bite of his apple. 

“Right, I forget she has you three under some spell.” Sirius huffed and looked down to poke around at his plate. He curled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, glancing up at Remus, who seemed to have settled down. Making the choice to push further, Sirius leaned his hands on the table.

“You know, just because you have a little crush on her doesn't make her a perfect person.” He hissed across the table at Remus. Remus, in turn, flushed up to his ears, but his expression hardened. Glaring at Sirius as James clicked his tongue to try and dissolve the sudden tension. 

“Well, you know who is a perfect person?” He suddenly called out, lighting up as he looked over at the front doors. Lily and {Y/N} had just stepped through, laughing and teasing each other. 

“Oh, my Lilypad!” He sang across the hall and Lily grimaced, You smirked at her before looking over at the four boys, waving as Evans avoided their eyes.

“We are not sitting by them.” 

“Oh, but we are.” You purred and began to walk over to the table.

“You little shite.” Lily hissed at you, making you laugh. 

“You have the temper of a muggle.” You teased and she jabbed you in the side, making you throw your head back in a cackle. She tried her best to suppress a smile. 

“And you? The boldness of a pureblood with no brains to match.” Lily smirked and you playfully shoved her. 

“My brains are perfectly intact, it's yours I worry about.” You smirked and she narrowed her eyes in curiosity. You lowered your voice and leaned over to her ear. “Considering all that seems to run through it is a certain Potter boy?” You teased before you turned back to the group as you made it to the table.

“Morning all.” You greeted and gave another laugh as you sat down and Lily purposefully hit you with her bag, sitting between you and Peter. 

“Oh good morning beautiful, you know, I've been wondering if you'd like to make a little wager with me.” James leaned across the table towards Lily, practically shoving a huffing Sirius to the side. 

“And what is this wager, James?” Lily asked with a sigh, eyes flicking down to her plate before she reached over for the pumpkin juice just as James quickly took it and poured for her. Making her bite her cheek and roll her eyes. 

“The Quidditch match, next week? I figured, if I win, you would humor me with a date to Hogsmeade.” He smirked and Lily closed her eyes with a low sigh, leaning her chin on her palms before she fluttered her eyes open in annoyance and met his own. His heart could have stopped for a moment, but he stayed ever confident. 

“What do I get if you lose, Potter?” She sighed with a tilt of her head. You could have sworn she was flirting if she didn't have such a bored look to her. 

“I'll buy you whatever you'd like from Honeydukes.” He persuaded, dented his cheek with his tongue and a charming smile. Lily gave him a look before she pressed her hand to her cheek. “So I'd spend the day with you either way?” 

“I-”

“Not interested, Potter.” 

You watched the interaction with a smile before Remus nudged you with his elbow. Looking up at him you smiled, letting Lily and James flirtatious bickering fade out.

 “Hey.” He whispered over to you and you lifted your eyebrow with a smirk.

“Hey yourself.” You whispered back. 

He had his arms crossed and began leaning down on the table so his head was a little lower than your own. You mimicked his body language, crossing your arms and lowering your head so you were mere inches from each other. “Why are we whispering?” You asked with a smirk and he chuckled low.

“I wanted to know what you two were chatting about, you were whispering so it seemed fitting.” He muttered so just you could hear, you giggled at this and rested your legs up on the bar below the benches. 

“We were talking about a boy.” You teased and he bit his cheek, before slowly smirking. Oh Merlin, save you. Those pretty eyes and dimpled cheeks would ruin you. 

“Any boy in particular?” He pried.

“Jealous?” You pushed in a playful tone.

“Maybe.” 

Your cheeks grew hot at this, but you couldn't help but smile. Using your eyes to gesture towards James and Lily. “Who do you think, Lupin?”

His smirk turned to a quick and bright smile, lifting himself back up with a new filled confidence. “Anyone else?” 

“Don't worry, next time I go ranting to Lily about you, you'll be the first to know.”

“Next time?” He cheeked, looking you over.

“Definitely next time.” You matched his look before that ever bitter voice piped up. 

“Get a room.” Sirius hissed and your expression fell, looking over at him. You looked him up and down and scoffed. “Managed to get rid of the glitter did you?” 

“Managed to hide the horns, hm? Your morning routine must be tireless.”

“Not as horrid as yours, can't imagine it's easy slicking the slime off your back, you toad.”

“Wicked witch.”

“Fucking bit-”

“Woah woah woah, I hate it when mom and dad fight.” James spoke up and you shot him a glare, making Sirius scoff. “Mom and dad? Try Uncle and rancid egg.”

“Rancid egg? That's the best you could do? That pretty head of yours must truly be just for show.”

“You think I'm pretty?” He smirked and you groaned. Your petty argument interrupted as some of the kids gasped in excitement, making you look up curiously as the owls rolled in with the postage.

You looked over at the Slytherin table as one of the owls crossed the great hall to you. Dropping two letters in your lap. One was from your parents, that Lily quickly stole from your grasp. She made it her personal duty to review your parents letters and summarize them for you, after finding you heartbroken over some choice words your mother had for you after she found out you had missed an ‘O’ on your report card for a tardy.

You smiled gratefully at her before you looked over the much more professional looking letter.

“What's that?” Sirius barked out before he could think and you clicked your tongue. “Wouldn't you like to know, Black?”

You opened the letter and felt both Remus and Lily lean in closer and sandwich you between them. You tried to manage reading it before you tutted and shooed them back, making both of them look at eachother with a laugh.

“Are you going to Azkaban? Finally?” James asked and you sighed, eyes still scanning the page as you waved your hand to tell him to continue with his crappy joke. “Because your smile is so great, it's criminal.” He leaned towards you. 

You slowly looked up from the paper and gave him a look, both of you holding a serious gaze before he cracked and laughed, making you smile and look back down. This time ignoring any distractions and muttering along with the words. “Blah blah blah… this and that.. we are happy to inform you that YOUR APPRENTICESHIP AT THE AUROR DEPARTMENT WITHIN THE MINISTRY HAS BEEN ACCEPTED!” You practically announced to the entire hall. Lifting up the paper in absolute starstruck delight and Lily gave a gasp and a bright smile.

“Merlin, {Y/N}! Congratulations!” She squealed and hugged your arm tight. You leaned into her side and your legs kicked out in excitement. 

“Ministry apprenticeship? As an Auror? You're sixteen.” James spoke up and even his ignorance couldn't deter your mood, just sending him your dazzling smile. “Yup! I am basically learning the ins and outs of the ministry office work, but if this goes well I'll be in the field by graduation!” You narrowed your eyes, still smiling bright. “I told you this last year when Slughorn helped me apply.” 

“When was this?” James scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

“At the party? When you beat Hufflepuff?”

“Which time?”

“Come off it, mate.” You snickered and your head snapped over to Peter who tapped your thigh to get your attention.

“You earned it, {Y/N}.” He praised in a low tone and your brilliant smile returned. “Thank you, Peter.”

Suddenly you gave a small yelp as Remus pinched your side. You look over at him in playful irritation. “What was that for?”

“Congratulations.” He whispered as if you two were the only ones at the table. You felt that smile growing ten fold. “You could of just said that.” You tried to muse playfully but your voice came out broken. 

“How else would I be guaranteed that smile of yours?”

“Flirt.”

“I am trying. Is it working?”

“Unfortunately, quite well.” You two bantered and didn't notice the look Lily and Peter shared.

“Soo.” Lily interrupted your game of eye contact with Remus.

“Hm?” You asked and looked over. “You said you are being trained? Who specifically is overlooking you?”

“Oh! Uhm.” You quickly scanned the page again before your jaw went slack. “What?” You whispered in shock before you quickly pulled Lily closer and shoved the paper in her face.

“Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“Hm.. oh Merlin!”

“Alastor Moody!” You declared with a fist in the air and James gave you a look of surprise. Remus snapped his head to the paper and leaned in to read it, Peter clapped for you. Even Sirius seemed a bit impressed.

“He's like..”

“Your hero, we know.” Lily cheeked and you giggled. Looking over to the door as three more figures walked in, quickly, you excused yourself and ran like a bullet down the hall. “Mary! Alice! Marleen! Guess fucking what!” 

~~

The Weasley’s house was lively as ever, even with all the boys and Ginny at school. Molly was rushing around downstairs trying to keep herself busy, and her mind off the girl resting upstairs.

Dumbledore gave no warning, coming to her early morning with an unconscious girl, a girl she remembered instantly. {Y/N}, a girl she had known from her closeness with her elder brothers, having known her since she was 16, working as an apprentice under Mad-Eye, who worked closely with the Prewett twins.

The same girl who saved her eldest brother, Gideon Prewett, on her last ever mission for the order. The very same girl they buried days later. It took everything in Molly not to letter him and demand he come back from America to see what she discovered. The girl's death destroyed him, he lost his friend’s apprentice and his brother the same night, the older Prewett moved shortly after. Unable to face Moody or his family after his supposed failure.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts and she snapped her attention over to it. She remembered Dumbledore’s warnings of him bringing someone to set up better charms around the burrow temporarily. 

She tutted as another knock came louder, making her dry her hands faster. “Coming, coming!” She declared with a huff and stomped over, opening the door and her eyes went wide. “Alastor Moody!” She gasped and he nodded, walking inside and took off his shoes. 

“Mornin’ Mrs. Weasley. Dumbledore said you'd be needing some protection charms around the place. Something about a friend needing some extra protection?” He asked out in a professional but clearly bitter tone. He had better things to be doing. Better things to be hunting than playing protector. Albus would owe him greatly for this.

Molly stared at him in shock before she quickly snapped out of it as he let out an obnoxious. “Hmmm?” 

“Right! Right, well get right to it dear, don't let me be a bother. I'll put some tea on, it seems you need it.” She huffed and walked back into the kitchen and waved her wand to get everything ready.

~~

Your head was throbbing. It was dark, or maybe your eyes just refused to open? Your limbs were buzzing and limp, and your eyes burned in their sockets. You could feel yourself blink, but nothing changed with your vision. 

You began to breathe heavier, the realization hitting you like a truck. You had been living as a muggle for twelve years. Every memory, every moment, every dream and feeling you had was fabricated. Your mouth grew dry as you felt your heart speed up. ‘Never panic, you lose control of the situation.’ You heard Alastor scold you. Slowly, you collected yourself. ‘What is happening?’ He implored from your memory, the step by step questions he taught you.

No light.. I can't see what's happening. Everything hurts, Moody. ‘Can you see, hear, smell, or feel anything?’ Moody implored. No. Can't see. You tightened your eyes closed and heard the wind rushing through the grass below. The sound of ticking clocks and gnomes tearing apart the lawn. But you were in what felt to be a bed, the fresh grass smell prominent. You were by a window. A window out in the country, in the wizarding world, and by the sound of it, in the middle of nowhere it seemed. No where else had that smell, or the nightmare of a gnome infestation. 

‘Good job.’ You could hear his praise. This was something you developed early on into your first few missions with Alastor, his voice was the closest you could get to memorable. It was easy when he was so bossy, you could guess.

‘So, where are you?’ 

In a bedroom, by an open window, in the wizarding world, out in the country. I can't see, but I hear a clock ticking and- 

There was suddenly a loud whistle coming from downstairs.

A wizard using a kettle? Making tea, perhaps someone's home?

‘In a bed?’

It seems so.

‘Do you think it's safe?’

It feels safe.

‘Open your eyes.’ 

You hissed and slowly scrunched up your face, trying to ignore the pain that shot threw your body. 

It hurts Moody.

‘Open them.’

You shook your head and slowly forced them to open. This time, light entered. It was blurry, but you could make out a few details. The room was familiar, soft red and warm, cozy and peaceful in a way that felt nostalgic. Gryffindor colors, trinkets here and there. Finally, you forced your knees to bend up and hissed out in pure pain. “Fuck. Fuck.”

You looked around as you felt yourself fill with dread. You couldn't move. You had to wait. 

‘You'll be a sitting duck.’ Moody snarked in your head and you scoffed.

“You move then!” You shouted, louder than intended. You groaned and rolled onto your stomach. Forcing your wobbly arms under your chest and pushing threw the agony. Every muscle that you felt could possibly tear, began to pull and ache, every sharp pin and needle that felt like it ran deeper than just the flesh, and the throbbing of your skull. Alastor would taunt you, you had both been through worse together. ‘Twelve years out of practice affect you that much?’

I'll still beat you old man.

You finally managed to tumble out of bed, falling hard to the floor with a few sharp breaths. Shaking your head you jerked your trembling body to your feet and stood. Leaning forward and falling towards a desk you used for support. Then you saw it. Photos. Photos of a red haired family, one you knew instantly. “I'm at the Weasley's.” You breathed with a growing watery smile.

‘Then you're safe.’ Moody finally agreed in your head as you gave a soaked laugh. “Molly finally got her girl.”

~~

Molly had managed to convince Moody she just needed to pop out for a few errands. He, of course, was very displeased with this revelation. At first he complained about being left alone, but when she reminded him he was posted here indefinitely, he relented. 

So there he was, it was much later in the day when he heard shuffling upstairs. The steps heavy and echoing a bit and he grunted. Of course they were loud. He looked over to the stairs with a glare, and he let out a shaky breath. The figure was so familiar, he would know those reflective mischievous eyes anywhere, those bundled locks and blemished skin. 

He had been to the Ministry assigned combat therapist plenty of times, forced to sit and listen to them rattle on and on about getting proper help for his clear trauma regarding his very first apprentice. The first time it happened, something similar to this had taken place. He was sitting at his desk, writing away at some paperwork. It had been a year since he lost her, and the ministry was still picking up the pieces and apprehending death eaters that tried to push past Voldemort’s death. 

He was knee deep in paperwork, and he heard tapping. You were always tapping your quill to the table, or the inkwell, or even just drumming your fingers against the table. It irked him horribly, when you first began. But now, it brought him a strange comfort.

His head snapped to the side you usually sat on, seeing you as clear as day, just tapping your Quil to an inkwell. 

He was given five days leave after that melt down. The next time he saw you walking the same route as him to work, appariting to the front gate, he even saw you in the corners of the record room.

Never like this, however. You were older. Merlin, you were older and you looked just as stunned as he did. His visions never acknowledged him, so when you came running down the stairs his body moved before he could think. You stopped a few feet away from him and looked him over, and he stared at you, stunned. “Wow old man.. you look like shit.” You snarked and he hurried over to gather you in his arms. You sobbed into his shoulder and you both melded into a silent comfort.

It was safe, Moody. Just like you promised. 

So safe, in fact, for the first time in your entire life.

You felt Moody begin to cry.

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3) {Spotify Playlist}

Synopsis: Gale guides you through casting a fire bolt, but in your search to find a warmth to channel, you revisit a late night with him that stirs up an unfamiliar feeling within you.

A/N: Completely SFW! Just cute romantic stuff while I continue crackin' away at this fine ass dork I've been presented with. I might turn this into a much longer story, because the dynamic of Mentor!Gale falling for his apprentice has so much potential, from fluff to angst to sexual tension, etc... but for now, here's this :) and with a side of the ever-lovely Tara!

Song rec.: Witchcraft - Vian Izak (X)

Word Count: 2k

“Now, right foot further… further…” A hand comes to rest on your hip, and you feel a tap against your right ankle, guiding your movements. You glance down, distracted from your target, and your mentor lets out a soft chuckle, his free hand moving under your arm. Two fingers push up on your chin, realigning your head. Doing your best to follow his directions, your right foot shifts forward, inching awkwardly across the ground until you no longer feel his shoe against your calf. 

“Should I aim for the head?”

“The head?” He laughs, his fingers pulling away from your chin, his arm outstretching to be parallel with yours, showing you where to position your own. “No, Tempus, let’s keep it simple,” he teases, pointing a finger at the torso of a hay-stuffed target, elderly chainmail armor lazily draped over its shoulders. “Eyes on the torso. And, please, do refrain from igniting my tower in a fiery blaze. These shelves took far too long to fill.” 

“I know, I know, I’ve got it,” you assure, earning a mewl of disbelief from a tabby Tressym resting a few feet away from the target, her tail and front paws hanging off of an empty space on the aforementioned bookshelves. 

“Mr. Dekarios, are you sure this is the safest we can be?” Tara purrs, her right wing twitching, likely anxious that you were bound to do exactly as he asked you not to and burn the whole tower down.

“I trust them, Tara. After all, books can only get one so far. Hands-on practice is far more valuable!” He encourages, leaning down slightly, enough that you can hear his breathing beside your ear. “Now. Steady. Focus… and picture it. A small flame, mostly harmless. Landing square on the torso, created from your very–”

“Ignis!” You shout, and Tara shoots up from where she was laying, bouncing away from the target and landing on a pile of books. Despite her reaction, there was no flame, though you swore you could’ve spotted a spark from your fingertip.

Gale lowers his arm, giving you a little more space, and he removes his hand from your hip, even taking a step back, perhaps a little too aware of the vicinity between your bodies. “Again. The pronunciation was exquisite, I must avow. Reach into your mind, no matter how far you must travel. Hear her whispers, channel the inferno within. Whether it be rage, passion, optimism – you must grasp the element, and feel the heat,” he explains, earning a small nod from you. Your eyes close, and you seek out the embers he spoke of. 

Your mind wanders– it has to, if you truly want to tame the element, no part of your mind should be off limits. Though it travels to unexpected places. You most certainly find warmth, it just wasn’t the warmth you expected. It wasn’t a burn, yet it was a heat. One that hovered around your body, brought on by closeness to another, breathing figure. You could see books, and the moon, hanging high outside, the room coated with a gentle blue glow. It was strange, like you were inspecting a faded picture rather than experiencing a dream. 

Hardening your focus, you grit your teeth. There was a purring, quiet, under the desk. Yes! You sat at the desk, seated on a small velvet stool, stationed next to a figure cloaked in purple. His arm, carefully positioned to allow you to gaze at and read along with the book he studied, brushing lightly against your shoulder. It couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago, during one of your late-night mentoring sessions, when he’d caught you sneaking around in the library, looking for something to keep your sleepless mind occupied. 

Reminding yourself of the mission at hand, you search for inspiration, and find a lone lit candle towards the back of the desk, the glow encapsulating the two of you and casting light on the material you read. With a deep breath, you do your best to channel that candle. As small as it was, it seemed the most helpful component in finding the blaze Gale directed, and you exhaled. 

“Ignis!” 

Your eyes open, feeling a half-second surge of heat in your fingertips, and much to your surprise, a tiny flame shot out from your index finger, though it fell to the floor and sizzled out before it made it halfway to your target. 

Still, it was enough to earn a chuckle and a series of short claps from your mentor, pleased with your performance even with as amateur as it was. “See, Tara? Hardly a threat to the books!” 

The tressym’s wings stretch, and her body follows, leaning back on her haunches as she yawns. With a flick of her tail, she muses “Hardly a threat to anyone, for that matter! I’m quite sure a crocked kobold could muster up a drink stronger than that.” 

“Oh, be patient, Tara. Everyone must start somewhere.” You spot Gale’s shadow waving his hand dismissively, before that shadow approaches yours, and you feel a hand on each of your shoulders. “I presume you found your root. Return, and study it. Learn it. Conform to it. Again.”

You inhale, and once more close your eyes, returning to the moonlit scene. The candle seemed dimmer, now, and you wonder if you’d somehow extracted the power from a memory. You’ve heard – well, read – about plenty of curious happenings related to the power and influence of the weave, but it was quite a different experience to feel those effects. You knew that you had focused quite closely on the candle, and yet it bore disappointing results. And now, that flame burned weaker.

It may be best to turn to other means of fuel. Your eyes scan the memory, contemplating the moon, before deciding it was far too tame, and far too distant to harness. The temperate coziness you felt in the moment pulses through you again, soothing your nerves, easing the racing of your heart. Warmth. 

It doesn’t take you long to realize just where the heat originates from. Though neither of you were aware in that moment, or perhaps you merely glossed over the fact, you sat close; in order to read the contents of the book, you had to be near to him. And near, you were. 

The time aided you, your fatigue stronger than your dignity, and allowed you to rest your head against his shoulder as you hardly managed to keep up with the lines of text, let alone truly process the material you were attempting to soak up. It was warm, despite the winter that hadn’t yet faded. He was warm. You’d been close with him before, though it was always fleeting. Accidentally bumping into him as you gathered materials around his study, or the second-long contact of your hands when you answered his fetch requests. Occasionally, when he guided your hand to some place in particular, over the ridges of a carved staff or the spines of books on his shelves. Even once, just once, that he’d allowed you to press your palm against his chest, his purple robe displaced just enough to expose the stain of the Netherese orb, which had produced an alarming heat from beneath his skin, and he’d felt inclined to share it with you. 

But here, this memory, this occurrence, was hardly fleeting. He must have been willed by weary exhaustion just as well, because he didn’t shy away from the close contact. Instead, Gale rested his jaw against the top of your head, continuing to idly review the book he’d read countless times. You were sure that, if he had fewer things to concern himself with, he very well could have recited the lectures on dead gods from memory. 

You hear a distant ‘mrrow’ of boredom and you recount your steps, regaining sight of your mission once more. You relax your body, only maintaining enough control to keep yourself standing, and your arm aimed. As you burn this sight, this time with him, and these feelings into your memory – should you ever need to recall the sight again, perhaps in future lessons, you want to be prepared – there is an airiness that wraps your body. Although you are planted firmly on a surface, both in the real world and in this vision, it feels as though you’ve been granted feather falling and have leapt from the balcony, becoming one with the breeze. And yet there is no chill, there is no bite from the rush of air, merely a dazing high. 

His breathing is all you hear. Mellow and stable. You focus on the patterned flow, the delicate and inviting tepidity, the velvety brush of his clothes against your face. 

“Love?”

Your eyes open, head swiveling around to face him, and he seems taken aback by your response. You aren’t sure you heard him right, and he isn’t sure you heard him right either, so he points behind you, head tilting slightly. Following his attention, you find that the target now displays a moderately-sized searing hole in the torso, near the right shoulder. You don’t recall announcing the spell, but it’s quite possible that you were too wrapped up in channeling the fire bolt to realize you’d casted it. 

When your attention clings to the training dummy for too long, Gale steps into your peripherals, and you turn to face him once more. Again, he motions towards your successful delivery. “Flames and Fatalities, volume one, chapter four.”

“Red for rage, orange for survival, white for hope, pink for love,” you recite, easily recalling the information provided in one of the spellbooks Gale had you study several times over.

“Precisely. Your flame contained a pink hue,” he elaborates, and your gaze flicks over to the training dummy, and then back at Gale. 

A familiar warmth brushes against your ankle, and you look down, finding a sassy winged creature at your feet. “At least someone in this tower seeks romantic companionship. Mr. Dekarios may very well have something to learn himself,” Tara purrs, and Gale releases a short sigh at her taunt, running a hand through his loose brown hair. “You used to be such a romantic. Though you seem much more of the hopeless kind these days.”

“Well, Tara, I don’t possess an acropolis of free time, I fear. Romantic pursuits do not fit into my schedule,” Gale attempts to defend, though Tara merely tilts her chin up and turns her head away from him, tail stiffening with antipathy. When you look up from the feline-like familiar, you find Gale eyeing you, splitting his sight away the moment your eyes meet, rendering you incapable of registering whatever strange emotion you thought you caught a glimpse of in his eyes. 

You don’t like the taste of the unforeseen tightness in the air, so you clear your throat, looking around the study. “Hells, I forgot to tend to the garden yesterday. Does that sum up my teachings today?” You ask, looking back at Gale. He stares at the mannequin for a few moments more, and for a second, you fear that you’d damaged it too much, but then he releases a gentle laugh, dipping his head.

“Indeed. You performed marvelously. Go on, I’ve got artifacts to busy myself with. If you’re not back by the time I finish, I’ll put together a meal.” Gale motions for the main doors, and steps past you, approaching a mid-sized woven basket containing a staff, an enchanted dagger, and a pair of leather gloves shining a faint orange hue. You watch him, and he pauses as he lifts the basket, glancing at you from over his shoulder, his smile aged, though it held a certain pride in the catenary of his lips. “May I ask?”

Confused, you narrow your eyes. “Ask what?”

“Where did you find your flame?”

Allowing yourself a moment to think, you made sure to keep your eyes on him, and then you provide a nonchalant shrug. “I thought of my parents.” 

Gale is still, his reaction a delayed one, before he widens his smile in a quick chuckle. “Charming. Hold onto that. It’s a solid base.”

You nod, and then finally turn around as Gale resumes moving the basket from the floor to his desk. You grab an empty basket of your own on the way out, disappearing and leaving him to his artifacts. 

[aspureasamelody]

Clay: "I’d like to think we all learned a little somethin’ today." Kimiko: "Never lose faith in a friend?" Omi: "The value of simple solutions?" Raimundo: "Omi can’t use slang?" Clay: "Nope. We learned everybody hates mime."

...

This seems like it's just a fun joke to end the episode on, but it's actually a surprisingly deep peek into Clay's character!

Clay just singlehanded saved the day and won his first showdown. And that's after Clay did an exemplary job this morning by creatively being the fastest person to finish the obstacle course. He's more than earned bragging rights, and taught his teammates, who have been blatantly underestimating him this whole time, a lesson on what he's really made of

Kimiko and Omi are very ready to admit they underestimated him and praise Clay for being an amazing friend and having creative, efficient simple solutions. And Clay's response?

Clay avoids drawing attention to it, not even by thanking them for the compliments. He brushes it all off with a little joke

Clay always has a tendency to underplay his own skill. It's not quite humility as it is a sort of skittishness. It feeds into his stage-fright and his tendency to follow up impressive bits of knowledge dumps with "...What? Cowboy can't have a hobby?"

And it comes from the fact that when Clay does well, he tends to be resented for it in some way or another. It's what caused a rift between Clay and Jesse. And it's what caused the tension between himself and his dad too, in a way

Clay's really good at what he does, so his dad always expects more, every good job followed up by a "well? what next?" that feels oddly similar to disappointment despite clearly not being that. Every time he does good and has an accomplishment acknowledged, it's more proof that he could be doing better and is sitting on his laurels. And it gives him even less leeway on future slights. Even slight mistakes get no grace, because Clay's already established in their minds that he shouldn't struggle, he's perfect

Clay's really good at what he does, and every time he's good at something, Jesse hates him more and more for it, and lashes out about it. Every single thing he succeeds at makes her despise him more and more, and blame him for her estrangement. It makes her see him as less and less like a brother she once related to and was close to, and more like some superhuman who can do no wrong and feels nothing genuine about her or anything else

Either way, it's always been dehumanizing

Clay just bristles at having his good sides acknowledged too directly now

When Clay's promoted to apprentice rank, one of the first things he does is apologize to Raimundo for it-- and Clay still gets lashed out and resented for the promotion. Just like he always has. Which definitely makes Clay retract further behind this wall of his

...On the other hand, it's not that Clay wants to be underestimated or looked down on

He still very visibly gets hurt and upset whenever Raimundo goes out of his way to say he thinks Clay is some brainless glutton, after all. He still wilts when his dad expresses disappointment in him and decides Clay's not man enough to make his own choices. He still gets riled up when Jesse provokes him and belittles him.

Clay still hates being insulted

And it's not that Clay actually dislikes being praised, either

He smiles at a job well done and likes to show off in little ways, too. He enjoys being flattered

He's just sort of scared of being praised or having a ton of attention called to him, because of what tends to follow

Hence, minimizing and hiding behind these little tangents and jokes of his. He wants to straddle a careful line of how others see him. Even if he'd be happier to be praised for a job well done, he'd prefer not to risk the backlash, so he stays in neutrals and avoids the highs to escape the lows

He wants to been seen for his good sides, but simultaneously, he doesn't, you know?

So it's nice seeing how earnestly he's throwing his hat in the race and trying for that promotion at the end. It shows that even if he's still scared, he wants to break out of this habit of his and show off how good he really is

[gffa]

Do you have any Sith!Obi-Wan fics you can recommend? 🙏

Hi! You can do a search for Sith Obi-Wan in my bookmarks which brings up several or you can start with the novel-length ones that still live rent-free in my head even years after I've read them: Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 95.9k During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone. This fic was written for me, so I'm biased, but it's genuinely my favorite for the trope because Lily put all this thought into the undercurrents going on between the characters, because it gives such care about why any version of Obi-Wan would fall to the dark and what he would be like, because each chapter had moments of foreshadowing and care given to lush, beautiful descriptions and the creeping dread of the place. It's a gorgeous fic and I think even if someone doesn't usually like Sith versions of the characters, the way this one does it (created reflections, not that our characters are falling, so it's scratching the itch of how it's an extension of our characters, but our characters are not on that exact path), I would gently suggest this one.

Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 187.1k Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process. My other favorite Sith Obi-Wan fic, this one is about how these characters fall to the dark, and the author takes his time with how it happens step by step, but also how these massive, galaxy-spanning changes happen, how it's a combination of how sexy the dark side can be but also how awful it can be, how much pain and hurt it can cause. There's so much care and effort put into this story, it spans such a huge story, that it's one of those fics I want to physically print out in special binding because it deserves to be a pretty set on my bookshelf.

wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 124.2k the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Kenobi is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. This is an AU where Obi-Wan never trained Anakin and is already a Sith when we meet him, and there's a reason it's one of the most famous fics in the fandom, because it is the most charismatic thing I've just about ever read, the sheer amount of dark side sexy charm coming off Obi-Wan is incredible, the tension between him and Anakin is delicious, and the writing/plotting of the storyline is superb. I could not put this fic down when I read it, there's a reason this fic helped really popularize the trope, because it's just so goddamned addicting and glorious to read.

Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 106.4k wip Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness. Trapped out of time, Master and Apprentice must once again work together to stop Sideous’ plans from reaching fruition and bring Balance to the Force—all the while dodging the Jedi, the Sith, and their feelings for each other. I think this might even have been the first Sith!Obi-Wan fic that I read and I know it remains dear to me because I reread it a year or two ago and got sucked in just as hard as before. Obi-Wan is dropped back into his younger body, feels like the whole thing is a bunch of bullshit, gets sucked into dark thoughts, and just goes full dark side dom on Anakin and fixing the galaxy through machinations and foreknowledge. It's so fun and it does such great service to Anakin's level of power, that this guy is an absolute dragon in the Force, but that he also very much wants Obi-Wan's hand on the back of his neck to force him to kneel to the one person he loves. Hnngggg, it really cemented me as a fan of this trope because of how well it scratches the sexy dark side dom/sub while they're both badass dynamic, I love it so much.

I'm still making my way through a lot of Star Wars fic, so if anyone has any more recs, feel free to jump in, especially if you have some gen ones, since I mostly read pairing fic for Sith!Obi-Wan (because I'm personally after the sexy dom/sub dynamic with it)!

[ladyinwriting18]

The Gift (Darth Maul x You)

Summary: Returning home after a recent failure, Darth Maul just wants to sink into solitude. But instead he finds a rather large gift box waiting for him.

Words: 5,072

Warnings: Master/Slave, PIV, Oral Sex, Knotting.

It had been one of the longest weeks of Maul’s entire life. He had barely eaten, barely slept. There hadn’t been time for such things. Not when his Master had given him the important task hunting down the Nubian Princess and her two Jedi protectors. There had been sightings of them in the Outer Rim, but by the time Maul had arrived there had been no trace of them. Which meant that he had searched every desolate planet in the forsaken system. But he found nothing. Which meant that, not only is Maul sleep-deprived and underfed, he’s also fucking livid. Come morning he’d be standing before his Master admitting his failure. The disappointment he’d soon face is undeinable. He enters his quarters, desperate to sink into silence and isolation, but instead he finds a giant and neatly wrapped gift box standing right in his path.

Maul almost loses it and snatches off his heavy black cloak to toss it aside. “What in the Stars is this?” He growls to himself. The anger he feels evolves into tension that it has the muscles between his shoulder blades aching. Slowly, he approaches the strange box. His bright eyes run over it, catching sight of a letter sitting beneath a large red bow. Gloved fingers snatch the note up to read the perfectly written Aurebeshian words. Dear Apprentice,

        Use this gift to ease the sting of your failure. Perhaps taking your aggression out on it will help you remember who you are.                                                                                               -Sidious Nausea rolls through him. His Master already knew he had failed. He didn’t need to be told. He just knew. Which is not only infuriating but also humiliating. Maul crumples the letter in his hand and squeezes until his fist begins to hurt. After a moment he lets it drop. He might as well get this over with so he could finally get some sleep.

He reaches out and pulls apart the bow before ripping away the wrapping paper. Cautiously, he leans forward to look inside but what he finds leaves him stunned. He blinks his eyes a few times to see if he’s simply sleep deprived or if there really is a beautiful and nearly naked woman looking up at him. Your lips turn up into a soft smile. “Hello, Master. How may I serve you?” Maul can only stare. You tilt your head to the side curiously. “Master? Are you alright? You look-” “Who are you? What is this?” He snaps, though he can’t stop himself from looking over the length of your body. You’re in a kneeling position, with your knees closed and your hands folded in your lap. Around your neck a silk black ribbon is neatly tied. It matches the nightgown you wear. It doesn’t go unnoticed that it barely covers your body. Maul swallows….hard. Looking up, he finds your gentle and friendly gaze. No one looked at a sith lord like that, especially not random women. You speak up, your voice is soft….comforting, like warm honey. “I’m yours now, Master. I belong to you.” His brows pull together. He doesn’t understand. “What?” However, his confusion doesn’t deter you from patiently re-explaining. “I’m a gift from your Master and I’m here to serve you, for as long as you want me.” “You’re my….gift.” You warmly smile and nod. He still can’t seem to fully wrap his head around the concept. “A human gift. In a box?” “Mhmm,” You hum. “Although, I could be more useful outside the box. If it pleases you, Master.”

Maul suddenly realizes that he’s kept you waiting inside this damn box for much too long. He also has no idea how long you’ve been inside before finding you. Sidious isn’t known for his tenderness towards women. For all Maul knows you had been made to wait for days. He holds his hand out for you to take and waits, but you don’t move. “Well?” He asks, irritated to see you still kneeling. You whisper, looking rather shy. “I need your permission first.” “You need–what?” He has no idea why you’d need a verbal command to stand up, but his patience is wearing thin. His fingers twitch as his hand remains outstretched to you. “Get out of the box. Now.” You immediately rise to your feet and place your smaller hand in his as you lift your leg over the edge of the box, then the other. It gives Maul an excellent view of your body. You’re beautiful, with an air of grace and femininity. Not to mention your scent is so intoxicating that it has his cock twitching. He continues to eye you curiously, enjoying the way your body moves as you situate yourself in front of him. You smooth out your short nightgown and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before sinking back to your knees. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. Placing his hand behind his back, he looks down at you from the tip of his nose and starts to circle around you with slow, calculated steps. “Did I hear you correctly? You said you belong to me now?” “Yes, Master.” He stops in front of you. “And you’ll do anything I ask?” You keep your eyes down, but answer without hesitation. “It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.” He grits his teeth and clenches his hands into fists. But not out of anger…out of anticipation and need. Needs that hadn’t been met in a very long time. “Look up at me,” He commands. You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him like you truly want to fulfill his every desire. Everything about you screams submission. It awakens the primal side within him. The one that hiss at him to mate and breed. His Master had said that the gift was meant for him to take his aggressions out on. He could dominate you, take you, and claim you all in a single night. His chest rises and falls at a quick, jagged pace. This stunning little creature is all mine. 

The realization makes him grin. “You say that you’ll fulfill any request?” You nod, “Anything Master.” 

Maul chuckles darkly. He wants to test that theory by having you crawl to him and swallow his cock whole. 

But first? First he wants to play, to see if you really did want to serve him. He takes a step forward with his right foot, placing his boot in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately you obey, positioning yourself on all fours. You lean down and press your full lips to the tip of his boot. But you don’t stop at just one kiss. In fact you cover the top of his boot with kisses. The entire time you make soft, sweet noises—as if it’s actually bringing you pleasure to kiss his fucking foot. Maul lets out a rough growl. “Don’t stop.” You purr and lower your upper body even further onto the floor, but keep your hips in the air. It showcases the soft curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the tops of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he commands through clenched teeth. He can feel his cock pulsing, constrained by his pants but so fucking hard and just waiting to be set free. Clasping your hands around his ankle, you pull your torso off the floor to get closer to him. You hold eye contact with him while kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. 

It's an unusual occurrence for him. Especially because on his home planet of Dathomir, males are deemed desirable based solely on fighting skills.  But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust. A quick peek into your mind tells him that you find him beautiful….exotic.  

Another unusual occurrence that only makes him more eager to claim you. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting atop your knees, palms up. So submissive and so fucking perfect. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” Maul asks, as a gloved hand hovers over the bulge in his pants. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.” 

“My property?” He breathes and lowers his pants to release his aching cock. 

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it. 

You nod as your gaze looks over the markings that line his shaft. 

“You’re my property,” he repeats, savoring the concept on his tongue. “My beautiful…little…submissive…slave girl.” 

Maul pants between words, stroking himself with a firm grip. 

“Yes Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips as you watch his hand move up and down his length. “I’m your slave. I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck my cock.” 

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Within seconds, you have one hand wrapped around the base while your tongue traces over the markings you were once eyeing. 

“My Master is so beautiful.” You moan out while your tongue eagerly works. 

Maul isn’t sure if you meant to say that outloud or not but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. 

Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is until you drop your hand away and deepthroat him. “Fucking Maker.” He swears and throws his head back.

You hum, tightening your lips around him as you pick up your pace and bob your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. Yellow irises burn with lust at every  flick of your tongue. “Are you enjoying this, pet?” He pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth. You hum happily and Maul can’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head. Thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair, moving you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical commands and let him fuck your mouth while you slobber all over him. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with so much enthusiasm send him into a frenzy. It’s almost too much. Your skilful tongue. Your hot mouth. The wet, messy sounds of you sucking. And your big beautiful eyes that look up at him full of affection. 

It only makes him want you more. His hands tighten their grasp on your head and begin thrusting his hips forward, slamming his cock into your throat as far as physically possible. You sputter around him, nails gripping and digging into his thighs to hold yourself steady.  “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You moan, gagging and groaning while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Your brows knit together, face crumpled in pleasure and that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. A spark of intense heat bursts through him. You’re getting off on this. Pleasing him. Choking on his cock. Being a good little slave girl. His last bit of control snaps. “Stand up.” He commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath before standing. He allows you this reprieve but keeps himself busy by stripping off the rest of his clothing. By the time you’re on your feet, he stands before you naked except for his leather gloves. You look him over, taking in every black mark that decorates his flesh. You take a step forward, hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backwards until your back hits the wall. He shoves his hand between your legs while the other leans flat against the wall above your head. 

He towers over with a grin, “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” You shift your stance, leaning against the wall so you can spread your legs wider and allow his hand to slip inside your panties. His fingers make contact with your already soaked cunt. A chorus of sweet melodies leave your open mouth. You grind yourself into his touch. He desperately wants to fuck you right here against the wall, but he knows you’ll need to cum before taking his cock and more importantly his knot. So first he’d take care of you and make your sweet little pussy gush all over him. “You’re so wet.” He breathes, he can tell by how easily his glove slides along your slit that you’re drenched.

He prods your opening and watches your eyelids droop close. “What an overactive cunt you have.” “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” He hums in approval and leans in to whisper in your ear. “That’s right, you do belong to me,” His finger traces back up towards your clit. “Every part of you is mine. Including your clit,” He purrs and applies pressure to the sensitive bud. You whine and twitch, nearly coming undone from the firm circles he rubs onto your clit. Being Dathomirian helps to heighten his senses. Allowing him to pick up on the sound of your wetness smashing against his glove. Your head tilts back and your mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’. You’re about to cum, but he isn’t finished playing with you. Not by a long shot. He pulls his gloved hand away and brings it to his mouth, causing you to sob at the loss of his touch. It’s almost adorable how needy you are. Using his teeth, he rips the glove from his hand before spitting it onto the floor and returning it to your cunt. Except this time he moves his fingers to your entrance and plunges them inside of you. You cry out, both hands grab ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs and mercilessly fingerfucking you. His fingers move in slick, quick thrusts that have you mewling nonsense. 

He leans in further, nuzzling the side of your face with his and pressing his body against yours. You gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh. Maul chuckles and hovers by your ear while he speaks. “This belongs to me too. This tight little hole is mine. Do you understand?” He asks, picking up the pace of his fingers. “I’ll fuck it when I want and fill it up with my cum whenever I want.”

“Yes, yes, my Master! I understand.” You blubber at him but he doesn’t relent.  “That’s a good girl.” He praises before falling silent.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are the wet squelching sounds of your cunt and your desperate cries.

You’re close to cumming again, and this time he has no plans on stopping you.

“Master….I….I’m going to–”

“I know.” He cuts you off, “But cumming is a privilege and you may not cum without my permission. Ever. Is that understood?”

“Yes Master. I must never cum without permission.” You whine while gripping his arm even tighter.

His thumb grazes your clit while still skillfully pumping his fingers.

“P-Please Master. May I cum? Please let me?”

Even if he wanted to tell you no he couldn’t with how wide and pleading your eyes look.

“Go on and cum for me.”

The permission is all you need to let the cord inside you snap.

Your entire body goes rigid and the ability to speak leaves you. Words are replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you so hard that your legs threaten to give out, but his muscular body holds you in place.

His fingers are coated in your juices which makes him wonder if you’d do the same to his cock.

You ride out your orgasm before slumping back against the wall. With a flushed face and glossed over eyes, you try to catch your breath. He watches your every move and removes his fingers from your core.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master.” You murmur politely.

Could you be any more perfect?

Maul crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion.

Up until now you had mostly kept your hands to yourself. Using them only when necessary to bring him pleasure or cling to him, but now your hands roam free.

Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a grin. “Does my slave girl want more? Should I give that cunt a taste of my cock?”

You only have time to nod before being grabbed, spun around, and thrown to the floor. Before you could yell out in shock he’s on top of you, trapping you beneath his body.

“You want this, to be fucked by your Master’s cock.” He lets his gaze leisurely travel down the length of you before making eye contact again. “Isn’t that right my naughty little slut?”

“If it pleases you, my Master,” You breath out with your chest rising and falling at a much quicker speed. “Then yes, I would like to be fucked on your cock.” At the last second you bite your bottom lip and whisper out a please. It has his pulse thumping in his veins and gripping the bust of your nightgown and tearing it apart. You yelp in surprise at being instantly exposed. The flimsy material is nothing but shreds in his hand. He does the same to your panties, leaving you bare except for the silk bow that had been tied around your neck. He stills, soaking in your beauty. You were quite possibly the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. He lets his fingertips brush along your side, chuckling when you shiver as if you’re ticklish. “Get on all fours for me.” As you turn to obey he situates himself behind you, grabbing at your flesh and kneading fistfulls of your ass. You moan, arching into his touch. “Does the naughty thing like this?” He coos, gripping your hips and pulling you back so your ass touches his cock. “Yes Master,” you moan, wiggling against him so his cock presses into your cunt from behind. “Does my little slave want to be fucked?” “I do, Master. Please. Please fuck me?” You look over your shoulder and beg. His arm lashes out and squeezes the back of your neck. He forces your head to the ground before growling out a command. “Keep that pretty face of yours on the floor.” You squeak and manage a nod before he releases your neck and lines his cock up to your entrance. He drags it across the length of your slit, making you whimper impatiently. He chuckles at your eagerness. “Now, now use your words. Tell your Master what you want….Exactly what you want.” Your mind spins, trying to form words good enough to get you what you desire. “I….I want Master to claim me for the very first time. I want to feel your cock hit me so deep that I have to beg permission to cum again. Please Master, I'll do anything.” A low growl rumbles in his chest as sweet words flow from your lips. Everything you’re saying is beyond perfection but instead of giving you a verbal reply, Maul plunges balls deep inside of you. You both tense and moan. He because of the tightness of your walls fluttering around him and you because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “Is that deep enough for that hungry hole of yours?” He groans and slowly moves out, then back in, giving you time to adjust. But knew he couldn’t wait for much longer. Not when you feel so good wrapped around him. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. “Are you enjoying being my little fuck toy? Do you like that I own this pussy?” “Yes!” You cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “I’m all yours, Master, and I love it.” At that he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming against the floor as he fucks you. He couldn’t keep his pace slow, his rhythm rough and steady. You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “No one will ever fuck you again. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine!” He punctuates the last of his words with deeper thrusts. 

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. It all feels too amazing to use the rational side of your brain. He plows into you from behind, his balls slapping against your clit. You curl your toes with a whine. 

“Mhmm, that’s my good pet. Take this cock.” He looks down at his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He grips your hips and delves as deep as he can inside of you, hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you speaking in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum for me,” he speaks in labored breathing and reaches around your thigh so he could rub your clit while spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.” You fall completely silent. For a moment he worries you’ve passed out, but then he feels your inner walls close around his cock in the more delicious way. Then comes the mewls. Loud, unfiltered, beautiful music. “That’s it. Cum on your Master’s cock.” He praises, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. Your breathing is labored as you start coming down from your high. 

His hand runs up your back to tangle his fingers into your hair, and using it to tug your head back so you hold yourself with your hands. He leans over your body and licks up your spine. Your sweat tastes salty on his tongue. He moans at the taste before moving towards your ear. “Have you ever taken a knot before, Little One?” A barely audible moan passes your lips before shaking your head. Maul hums in satisfaction. “Would you like to?” You don’t hesitate in answering. “Yes please, Master.” Releasing your hair, he returns it to your waist so he can drive himself into you. You start crying out for him again, even going so far as to beg for his knot. He’s so close now, the base of his cock starts to swell. Your pleas push him over the edge. He growls and lurches forward as his knot expands and locks you both together. You yelp and tense up, trying to move away from the intense intrusion but Maul’s arm comes around your middle and holds you securely to his chest as ropes of cum fill you. “Shhhh, you’re alright.” He soothes while panting. He knows that taking a knot isn’t easy. Especially since it’s your first time.

On shaky limbs he turns so you can both rest on your sides. The movements though slow still cause you to whimper. “Easy, I’ve got you.” He continues to sooth and slips an arm under your head so you can use it as a pillow. While the other strokes your sternum. “You did so well for me. You’ve made your Master proud.” He whispers, pleased when he feels you relax slightly. Clearly his words have comforted you.

“I feel so full.” He hums and nuzzles you with his nose. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod, “It’s intense but I’ve never felt anything like it.” He leaves a number of kisses along your shoulder and neck. “Once it goes down we’ll be able to get up and dress for bed.” You leave a kiss on his bicep. “Yes, Master.” “Call me Maul.” “As you wish, Master Maul.” Maul pauses, warmth blooms in his chest. He liked the way you said his name and looked at him. It made him feel things. 

Things he didn’t have a name for. The knot inside you softens, allowing Maul to slip his cock from your depths. He detangles from you and holds a hand out to you. “Let me help you up.” You murmur a thank you, smiling sweetly and place your hand in his. He hoists you up with ease. You sway slightly but his hands hold onto you until you find your footing. His bright eyes look you over and notice the ribbon still tied in place at your neck. He reaches out and unties it. “What’s your name, sweet thing?” You tell him and he repeats it back, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. “Well pet, you are now under my care. If you serve me well, I will take care of your every need.” Your eyes go wide, tears filling them. “Thank you Master Maul! Thank you so much. I promise to be the perfect slave for you.” He eyes you for a moment, curious as to why you seem so emotional. Eventually giving you a nod before walking past you to pull his pants back on. However, when he looks back at you, he finds you still standing there naked. “You can dress in your nightclothes. It’s time for bed.” You fidget uncomfortably. “The only clothes I have with me are ruined, Master Maul.” You point down to the nightgown that he had torn off you. He frowns, “That won’t do. I’ll have clothes made for you tomorrow.” 

Picking up his discarded cloak he starts making his way over to you. “Did my Master not send you here with any personal items?” “No, Master Maul. He said that, um, that…” you trail off, looking down at the ground. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort is palpable. He wraps his robe around your shoulders, letting it encompass your frame. You clutch onto it and say thank you, but still don’t meet his gaze. “Look at me.” He commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and his hand cups your cheek. “Don’t shut your Master out. What’s upsetting you?” You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “It’s just…your Master told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he didn’t think you’d spare my life after….well after you were through with me.”  This gives him pause. Sure he was a Sith assassin but that didn’t mean he’d harm someone without good reason. “What else did he tell you?” “That I belong to whoever opens the box, and that I’m to serve them until they no longer have use for me.” You shuffle your feet. “Which he predicted to be for one night.” Your eyes fall back to the ground. He lets out a deep sigh. Your fear isn’t something he wants. He places a finger under your chin and raises it, ensuring your eyes are locked. “I meant what I said. You are mine now, and I will take good care of you.” Slowly the anxiety in your expression melts away. Your bright eyes and sweet smile returning once more. “Thank you, Master Maul.” “Come, let’s go to bed.” His finger drops and in one graceful motion lifts you up into his arms. You cling to him as he cradles you to his broad chest and brings you into his bedroom. He lets you crawl out of his cloak and under the covers of his bed. Once you’re situated he lays next to you. Suddenly, he feels fucking exhausted–emotionally and physically. He just wants to rest, but every time he closes his eyes everything comes tumbling down on him. His failures, his wasted time and resources, his impending meeting with Sidious in the morning. A rustling beside him pulls him from his thoughts. “Thank you, Master Maul.” You coo, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. Your lips flutter against his skin as you whisper. “For everything.” 

No one had ever thanked him so much in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle this type of praise. What he does know is that a kiss on the cheek isn’t enough. 

He turns his head to capture your lips with his own. “You’re welcome, pet.” He whispers against your mouth. 

You seem satisfied and let out a soft sigh before nestling yourself against him with your head on his chest. Not knowing how to react, he doesn’t move. He had never had a woman snuggle with him before. Should he bring you closer? Should he hold you? It doesn’t seem to matter because within minutes your breathing slows and you fall asleep. Maul looks down at your slumbering face. You feel so soft and small next to him. How could his Master ever imagine that he’d hurt someone like you?  Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on the curve of your hip and pulls you closer. The scent of your hair fills his nostrils.

He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as the pleasant smell.

You hum contently in your sleep and Maul’s lip twitches up. He doesn’t know what the future held but he did know one thing….

He could get used to this.

[ontherocks21]

Someday I'll Write It:

Lady Vader Part V

The nightmares begin soon after.

Anakin tries to tell her that he's fine. That they will pass in time. That it's just stress and the increasing amount of time he has to spend away from her. Duty calls. More often when one is playing both sides.

She knows he doesn't want to frighten her, but no matter how hard he tries to convince her, she can only hear how hard he's working to convince himself.

The fifth time he wakes bolt upright and screaming, she finally gets it out of him.

"You'll die in childbirth."

Her hands freeze in his sweat-drenched hair, and her blood runs cold. Anakin pulls out of her suddenly intense embrace and flees the darkness of their bedroom. He can't sleep when he's like this, and she understands. Neither can she.

Despite her Emdee's reassurances that "Everything is looking great" (they had ordered the medical droid to be sparing with the details, not wanting to spoil the surprise), despite how utterly nonsensical his prediction of labor fatality is, despite the way she recoils from the suffocating terror constricting her chest, Padmé still feels the ghost of Shmi between them.

For a long while, she lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how not to repeat history from repeating itself.

The next morning, she insists on weekly prenatal visits even though routine check-ups are usually scheduled once a month still at this stage of the second trimester. Anakin can't attend them all - Palpatine's iron fist is tightening on the galaxy as is his leash on his apprentice - but the additional reports and the ones he can seem to help him find sleep again.

Until he misses three in a row. Her belly grows larger everyday it seems, and he tells her in a rising panic that he needs to know more.

"I can't schedule any more without raising further suspicion," she says, soothingly stroking his arm. "Bail and Dormé and Mon already have their hands full covering for my absences as is."

"I know, I know," he replies, his brow furrowed and worried. He presses his palm to her navel. "But I need to know."

She doesn't have to ask him to explain. She doesn't have to hear him voice the words he's so afraid to speak.

We need to know who's in there. Who's at stake.

Padmé nods, rolling into him beneath the sheets. He tucks her under his chin, holding their family so tightly against him she thinks he may never let go.

The next visit, the Emdee introduces them to their future.

A boy and a girl.

"Twins," Anakin breathes, his cerulean eyes mesmerized by the holo-sound screen. For one brief moment, the constant undercurrent of tension he wears on his face like a mask he can't shed breaks with a smile.

Padmé's heart swells until she thinks it may burst. She's missed this Anakin, her Anakin. The one who holds hope and light and love in his very soul.

"Twins," Padmé beams back, trying her best to revel in the doubled joy this revelation brings.

And not the doubled reason for fear.

Image Credit: Eli Hyder

[sunshinebingo]

Summary: A heated argument between Azriel and Gwyn turn into a smutty sort of reconciliation.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: NSFW!

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Azriel glared at Gwyn. She glared right back.

“Do you have any idea of what could have happened today?”

He did not even try to hold his anger back from his tone.

Gwyn crossed her arms and stood with all the stubbornness she had amassed in her 29 years. “Nothing happened.”

The veins along Azriel’s arms seemed like they were about to pop from the way his fists tightened.

“You could have – ,” he stopped the last word from leaving his mouth, perhaps afraid that even the mention of it would send some unknown forces crashing down on them and make it happen. Gwyn had no such concerns.

“I could’ve died. Yes, I know. But I didn’t.”

Azriel took two steps towards her. “This could have been way less messy if you had remained hidden and had waited for my return like I ordered you to.”

She didn’t miss the way he spat the word ordered in a reminder that, despite their relationship, during their work, he was still the Spymaster and she his apprentice. Usually, every steps of their shared missions – good, bad and anything in between – were calmly assessed and discussed after their return. But since he had chosen to approach this conversation with scowls and growls, then she would also let her temper lead her.

“This could have gotten worse if I had waited. I had to act.”

“But do you ever think before you act?” he hissed.

She saw fear and anger battling in his eyes. However, his question made her momentarily forget the former. She knew that her decision to leave the spot from which she was spying to run into this fight had seemed rash. But what other choice could she have made when this Autumn female was at the mercy of no less than three burly males.

Uselessly watching from afar wasn’t an option for a Valkyrie. So she had gone where she was needed most. The few cuts and burns she had gotten from those males would only be a reminder that she had fought them and had won. Barely, if it wasn’t for Azriel’s intervention when she was dealing with the last one. But still.

She uncrossed her arms and closed the remaining distance between them. His height had never annoyed her as much as it did in this moment when she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t you dare imply that I’m stupid. I knew the risk before I acted. And I decided to take it anyway.”

Azriel pulled on his hair with a groan. Some of his shadows remained by him, their darkness a an external indication of their singer’s inner turmoil, while the others stuck by Gwyn’s side. Whether they were attempting to calm her or spurring her to go harder, the Shadowsinger didn’t need to know.

“I never said that you are stupid,” Azriel fumed, his face only an inch away from hers. She could have cut the thick tension in that little space with a swipe of her favourite dagger.

His breathing was strained, his eyes pained despite his frown. As annoyed as she was at his scolding, she knew that it was driven by concern for her. Technically, she couldn’t blame him for reacting so fervidly when she had done the same with him in the past. If she couldn’t stand seeing him in any sort of danger, then she should not doubt that he felt the same for her. But she couldn’t stand that he was reprimanding her like she was a novice who was wearing grown up leathers.

“Choose your next words carefully, Shadowsinger.” She threw him her own version of his withering stare.

She saw the gears turning in his head as he considered what to say next. It took him longer than she expected and no less amount of bitterness in his tone.

“You are smarter than everyone I know. And you are so damn brave.” The last word came out like it was an unforgivable flaw. “But sometimes bravery can cost you your life.”

“I know.” She stomped her foot on the carpet. “But if it saves others, then I’ll consider it worth it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t acted the same on many occasions.”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. “Damn you for being so compassionate.”

“Is that meant to be compliment?”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered before he grabbed her face and kissed her. Hard.

Gwyn gripped the front of his fighting leathers and pulled him closer. He was still mad. As was she. That was why their lips and tongues fought in a battle for dominance. His hands held her by the waist as they quickly moved, her feet mindlessly guiding her backwards until she was pressed against the closest wall. She arched her back. Her body went flush against his and she felt his hardening cock against her front. Azriel pressed himself harder against her and made it impossible for her to move.

All the heat in her body gathered in her core. It became even more intense when he left her lips to bury his face in her neck.

“When are you going to learn that I hate your recklessness,” he grunted in between licking and sucking at her skin.

Her hands went to his hair. She tugged at the strands while desperately attempting to move against him.

“You’re doing a shit job at showing your hate.”

Her words were immediately followed by a gasp when he bit her so hard that she felt the imprint of his teeth even after he lifted his head to look at her again.

Gwyn gulped from the intensity of his gaze. Among the anger and fear there, she also saw the kind of lust that came from a need to make sure that she was still here; still his. His shadows were so thick around them that she couldn’t see anything beyond his spread out wings. Without any warning, Azriel grabbed the front of her leathers and ripped it open. A little of common sense still remained in her to complain about it but she was cut off by his mouth claiming hers again.

“You don’t realise how insane you drive me,” he said while he efficiently glided her clothes off her body. She did the same with him, baring him to her with practiced ease. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer with a huff.

“I don’t always do it on purpose.”

Gwyn thanked the gods that it wasn’t close enough for him when he grabbed her by the thighs and effortlessly lifted her up.

Losing herself in his kiss, she didn’t even realise Azriel was walking until she heard the sound of papers flying and she felt her back hit the polished surface of the wooden desk after he lowered her on it. She opened her eyes to the sight of him looming above her. His eyes scanned her body with a drunken haze yet Gwyn wasn’t sure what emotion was at the forefront of his mind as he did so. She got a clue when one of her hands lowered on his chest and his gaze zeroed in on the small burn that was slowly healing on the inside of her forearm. Azriel’s strong hands tightly gripped at the flesh of her backside.

“You will never disobey my orders on the field again,” he gritted out.

Gwyn was ready to protest and to defend her earlier choice again. She wanted to throw her attitude at him like he was also doing with her. But every word died in her throat when he dropped his forehead against hers. His next words came out in a pained whisper.

“I refuse to lose you.”

She closed her eyes and matched her breathing with his. “You won’t,” she promised.

She wrapped her legs around his middle and pulled him closer. They both moaned when he pressed his cock against her wet centre. His first slide inside her was slow. The following thrust even more so, as though this was her punishment. His mouth going down her neck and his hand squeezing one of her breast were equally toying with her pleasure. Even his shadows seemed to have joined their master in his slow torture.

Gwyn moved her hips but was immediately stopped by Azriel who pinned her on the desk with a hard thrust which had her crying out before he resumed his slow pace. A series of moans and breathy curses left her lips. She grabbed his face from where he was sucking on her breasts and brought his lips to hers.

“I’m so godsdamned mad at you,” he said against her mouth. She was still mad at him too, but for reasons that were overriding their argument.

“Please. Be mad at me harder.”

Then, like this was exactly what he had been waiting for, Azriel started fucking her mercilessly. It was desperate and deep. Gwyn dug her nails into his back while their lips and tongues tangled with each other with the same frenetic pace as his cock pounding into her. All of their frustration and his fear manifested into fervent touches and lewd noises. They were so close that not even his shadows could have slipped between their bodies.

Everything started bordering on too much; the heat, their bruising grip on each other, the pressure building inside her. But Gwyn refused to let go when she was so close to that edge. She glided her hands to the base of Azriel’s wings and scraped her fingernails on that spot that she knew only she had ever touched. She swallowed the loud groan that he let out from that and made an equally loud noise when he slammed inside her with somehow more force than he had until now.

Gwyn’s body trembled but she didn’t care to know whether it was more him or her. She felt the erratic beating of his heart going in sync with hers where his chest was pressed so close to her that it squeezed her breasts. Their heartbeats and the cries barely muffled by their kiss drowned out the rest of the world around them.

Gwyn pressed her fingers on that spot on his wings a little harder. Azriel shuddered atop her and buried himself as deep as her cunt could take him. Feeling him come inside her was the final drop she needed to climax. She clung onto him as hard as he did with her. The world could have ended right then and there but they wouldn’t have been able to let go of each other.

Gwyn’s body relaxed as she slowly came down from oblivion until she went completely lax underneath him. Her legs felt like jelly as she untangled them from around him. This plus with his weight pressing down on her, Gwyn couldn’t stop her body from sliding off the desk. Her backside was almost completely off when Azriel lifted her again. Instead of walking them across the room to the giant bed that was draped in soft sheets and fluffy pillows, he simply kneeled on the carpet and plopped them down in almost the same position as they were previously in, her lying down and a heavy Azriel on top of her.

She let her head fall back, the carpet and her braid preventing her from hurting herself. Her arms flopped at her sides with even less grace. Azriel was in no better state with his head once again buried in the crook of her neck and his breathing as ragged as hers. It was as though everything they had gone through since this morning – everything they had felt – had build up and had exploded in the most delicious way, to then fall back down on them like confetti. Everything left of them now was exhaustion.

Gwyn opened her eyes and watched the shadows swirling above them like a dark cloud. Her mind must have been in a similar state of laziness because there was no other explanation to what she said next.

“I should disobey your orders and toy with death more often.”

Azriel tensed. The hand he was caressing the burn on her forearm with abruptly stopped. A wisp of shadow gently pushed Gwyn’s head as if wondering why she was bringing this up again. Why now.

The expression on his face when he raised his head and scowled at her confirmed that he wasn’t finding this funny at all. She wasn’t trying to be funny. Even though she had to purse her lips to stop herself from smiling at his reaction. She didn’t have any energy left to fight with him anyway.

“Gwyn, I swear on everything, if you –”

“Sshh.” She cupped his face and pull him back down on her before she started running her hands through his hair. “Don’t ruin the moment, Azriel.”

When all she got in response was a heavy sigh and a muffled chuckle, Gwyn convinced herself that her attempt at soothing him was working. For now.

[colibrie]

Confrontations: Bullseye, Krang.

This installation wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for @trilobitepunch. Not only is she responsible for the amazing art, but she got me through when life and writer's block hit me hard. Parts of the writing here is hers, and I am so greatful for her input and her patience.

There were three truths, as fundamental to the foundation of universe as the force. The first was that strength always prevailed. The second was that there were many, many ways to exert one’s strength. The third was opportunities were rare, and thus every one was to be exploited to the fullest. Krang had always known these rules, and had followed them faithfully even when trapped within the sanctimonious confines of the Jedi order.

They had kept him sharp when others had become complacent, had kept him focused when arrogance had blinded that pompous council to what lay right under their upturned noses. He had seen and seized the opportunity of the Empire. He alone strode from the smoldering ruins of the temple, ready for what lay ahead. And next to the emperor, he alone understood the art, the sever beauty, that lay within the dark side of the force. Unlike the other imbecilic inquisitors, or the emperors simpering apprentice, he knew that killing jedi was a waste, and torture alone was lazy. The best paths to breaking a jedi were often the slowest. Pressure was key, but timing was everything.

His longest running projects had just handed him two gilded prospects. Two force sensitives, unaware and untrained. Two individuals his masterpiece had taken pains to hide not just from Krang, but from his own flesh. He could practically taste the potential, feel the scales of the force teetering to-and-fro. Whoever these two were, they were essential, the missing piece to complete his magnum opus. Two lambs, perfect for the sacrifice. He just had to think…

A knock shattered the silence within his office, bringing him back to the present, and his waiting opponent.

Earlier than he’d expected, but he would adapt.

“Enter.”

Heavy footsteps shuffled across the floor, armor clicking and clanking as its wearer snapped into a salute. Determination and fear flooded the air in a sweet and sour scent, and he allowed himself a brief, hungry grin before schooling his face into a stern scowl.

“I don’t recall sending for you, Inquisitor,” Krang mused, sinking back into his desk chair. He laced his claws togethers as he swiveled to face his visitor. Raphael. The simple brute was less of a challenge than his prodigy brother, yet he possessed characteristics that were their own unique form of intriguing. Ones that made him worthy to play the game.

“I trust you have a good reason for this interruption.”

“I do, sir,” Raph replied, massive body shifting with discomfort as his gaze flickered between the red eye of the mech suit and his golden eyes. It was an easy opening move. The indecision and anxiety of which to maintain eye contact with was such a simple means to discomfit the weaker chattel within the Empires ranks. From whole suites of pompous admirals, intoxicated with their engorged egos and perceived importance to ranks of pawn level inquisitors, all could be caught wrong footed without having to exert himself.

He let the tension build, keeping his face the picture of cold indifference as Raphael’s shoulders slowly bowed inward, as his eyes finally settled on some far point over Krangs shoulder. Signs of submission. Finally, Krang raised a hand, claws skimming the air in ambiguous invitation.

“Then speak but make it brief. I am busy.”

“It was Raph’s fault the mission failed,” Raphael reported, hands tightly clasped behind his back as his eyes remained fixed on their chosen spot. “I underestimated the younger targets’ agility an took out one of the ruins supporting walls. Donatello nearly had the other target apprehended before the place came down. I figured you should know before you start deciding punishments.”

“I see,” Krang hummed, anticipation building. “Are you so eager for punishment?”

“I own my messes,” Raph growled, chest swelling slightly as his eyes finally drifted to meet Krangs own. Something shone in their depths, a molten red that Krang relished seeing. Now, the true game could begin. “Donatello woulda been successful otherwise. He doesn’t deserve punishment.”

“You forget yourself inquisitor. That decision does not lie with you. Do you require a reminder?”

“No! I... I’m sorry." Ah, but how quickly he backtracked, those brilliant carmine emotions running so hot then cold. His boldness was perhaps admirable, if ill formed and entirely misplaced. Krang waited, fingers drumming steadily against the metal of his desk as the stocky young Inquisitor reigned in his resolve once more. "But really, it was my fault! Please, ya can’t punish Don.”

There it was. The thing that made Krangs time and efforts worthwhile. Earnest fidelity spread wide like herald’s banner for all to see. A pillar of strength that refused to bend or cede, no matter how the darkside of the force crashed against it. It was a trait that once would have been hailed by the Order, the dead Order that would also have ironically condemned the very bond that fed into it. The bond of brotherhood... While not an intelligent player, Raphael would still perform above and beyond expected parameters for his brother's sake.

It was harder to hold back his hunger for dominance, to keep the smirk he felt from surfacing upon his face as he thought of the earlier debriefing. How hard Donatello had fought to control himself, to control the flow and shape of the information reported. The silent symphonic devastation that had slowly built as his witless older brother revealed everything, placing yet another victory squarely in Krangs crown. Young Donatello’s mind was Krangs to command, and it was a far more effective punishment than any of the physical penalties preferred by the indolent thugs within the Empire’s ranks.

Yet Raphael had presented the opportunity, and Krang never let an opportunity go to waste. It was time for the next phase.     

 He remained aloof as he intoned the rule, one he knew Raphael to be aware of, savoring each step as their game drew closer to its inevitable climax.

“Punishments are shared. There are no exceptions.”

“I-”

Krang silenced him off with a look, his next words subtly sweet as they rolled off his tongue. “However, the proportions of said punishments can be…adjusted.”

“A-Adjusted?”

The elder brothers face lit with the light of a false hope. The snare was set. All that was required now was a final push…

“Since you confess that the failure was primarily yours, you may choose to take on half of Inquisitor Donatello’s punishment in addition to your own.”

“I do! I mean, I will!” Raphael blurted all too eagerly.

This time Krang very nearly did smile, savage glee making it difficult to manage the façade of bored acceptance.

“Very well,” he straightened just a touch, brandishing his claws in a casually sweeping gesture towards the door. “The isolation chamber awaits.”

He sat back, savoring every moment as the snare snapped tight.

 Raphael paled, pupils dilating as his whole body shuddered in primal terror. It was as satisfying as watching Donatello try to hide his spiraling collapse, watching as the pillar trembled, tiny microfractures hidden within its foundation spreading like broken wings. The banner faltered, colors fading as darkness loomed.

“Th-e…the isolation…”

“Changed our mind already, have we?" Krang scoffed, one claw coming up to mockingly tap the edge of his face plate, glancing dismissively down at the documents on his desk as though intending to resume his prior tasks. "Very well, Donatello’s punishment will be-”

“NO!"

The dread from the other side of the desk was palpable, its progenitor so tightly coiled that Krang half-expected the boy to lunge at him. Some part of him, the part that sang for battle and conquest half hoped the fool would do it. He arrested the urge as he watched Raphael wrestle with himself before taking a step forward. Eyes filled with miserable determination dropped to the floor, head bowing in defeat as his arm slowly rose to a salute of surrender.

“No, I…Permission to begin my punishment, sir?”

“Granted," Krang replied, putting weight into the word like it were a sentencing. Raphael nodded, body shuffling away, blind to the wolfish smirk that had finally slipped across his superior’s face. A few quick taps to his personal consol, and Krang was leaning forward in his chair, grin now a full-blown sneer as he watched Raphael curl up into the smallest physical ball within the isolation chamber, head buried deep in the circle of his arms as he slowly swayed side to side.

“I wonder how long he’ll last this time,” he idly mused to the ether, eyeing the deep, overlapping claw marks gouged into the walls. “Perhaps he’ll make things interesting and go for a full two hours. Heh.”

The shadows of the room swallowed the tartness of his laugh, heavy hush ruling once more as he closed the screen. As amusing as it would be to watch the pillar break itself, he had work to do, and two new subjects to account for in the greater game.

“Now…where are they?”

[amourtoken]

oh man it's time for me to ramble again

Mentor Nicky/Apprentice reader

Also, ik most tattoo shops have an open floor plan but let's just pretend Nicholas has the piercer luxury and gets his own private room/space I promise ur not throating him in a room with 500 other people staring.

*NSFW below the cut, MDNI*

cw: possibly toxic dynamic, degradation, mentions of exhibitionism, raw sex (ya get it by now don't do this), toxic ass Nicholas (I'm sorry ik he's a sweetheart irl but I had to), oral (both receiving, Nicky eats it from the back js),

♡ he was doing the shop owner a favor by apprenticing you. You're his daughter, and Nicholas wanted to keep his job. Under any other circumstance he most likely would've declined. At least you're easy to look at.

♡ he had you working constantly, running errands for him and cleaning his station between clients. If you're gonna take up his time you were gonna be useful.

♡ you were trying your best!! You thought Nicholas was such an amazing artist and constantly complimented his work every chance you got. Alas, he continued to be a hard ass.

♡ there was palpable tension between the two of you to LITERALLY anyone else. you were clueless, but it's not like he made a point to hide how he stared at you while you performed some mundane task he'd assigned you to. You weren't aware until a specific interaction occurred-

♡ you'd finished up with your main errands and had set everything up for his next client, so you went to innocently ask if there was anything else you could do to help him out. He responded with

"if you really wanna help me, you'd be on your fuckin' knees under this desk."

♡ wow!

♡ well. You're the one who asked the question, and you're never one to decline when he orders you around. You wanted to please him, you really didn't wanna lose this apprenticeship :(( (you had no idea about the deal between Nicholas and your father, mind you.)

♡ this interaction led to a new dynamic. If you were done with whatever bullshit quest he'd sent you on, you're at his side like a lost puppy. He'd taken to nicknaming you that anyway since you were glued to his side most days and just "looked so pretty on the floor"

♡ he's gross!! I hate him!!! (This is a lie I would die for him)

♡ any time Nicholas was at his desk drawing up concepts for a new client, you were sat underneath and settled between his legs. He claimed it helped him focus but in reality it did the opposite.

♡ You knew the drill by now, he was your mentor but you had such a childish crush on him too. This wasn't helping. You hoped he liked you back. Surely he did, right? It definitely felt like it when he slid a free hand under the desk to tangle it in your hair and press your face against his hard cock through his jeans. He's an asshole and he absolutely has a picture of you in this exact position.

♡ if he didn't have clients for a bit, he'd drop whatever drawing he was meant to be working on to enjoy some quality time with his apprentice. By this he means fucking your throat while you're sat all prettily on your knees for him. He loved seeing you as messy as possible too bc he's gross and evil (and I literally need him so bad-)

♡ he'd smear his pre cum all over your pretty lips before telling you to open so he can slap the length on your tongue. He'd bury both hands in your hair and force your head all the way down on his dick when he cums some days and pull out to paint your face others. Either situation is dependent on how his day has been. Makes you clean your mess up either way by sucking the excess off his cock or licking what's left off your face from his fingers when he gathers it up just to have you clean it off. He reprimands you for being such a messy slut for him.

"Not very professional walking around with my cum on your face."

♡ LOVES resting his cock on your face just to see how big it is compared to you. (Again, has a pic of this bc he's awful)

♡ Nicholas bitches at you whenever you wear anything but a skirt to the shop. He claims if you want clients to notice you you're gonna have to "give them something to notice" but really it's all for him and he stares daggers at anyone who lingers on you for too long.

♡ Sometimes fucking your pretty mouth just isn't what he's craving. In this case, he pulls you onto his lap. It's a lot harder to focus on drawing this way than it is when you're on your knees for him so this is typically reserved for times where he's either very stressed or not busy.

♡ he'll squeeze your hips to grind you down onto his achingly hard length, rolling your hips against it through his jeans.

"so fuckin' stressed...gonna let me take it out on that pretty lil' pussy finally?"

"Just the tip, I promise- just wanna feel you." (Lie, he'll rub the tip against your entrance once before deciding that's not enough and he'll fuck his entire length into you)

♡ literally anyone else would've already left this position and told him to fuck himself but you're enamored and just wanna make him proud so you'll do anything. Is it wrong? Sure. Do you think about that? No. If Nicholas says so, surely it's nothing bad.

♡ he knows if his boss ever found any of this out he'd probably fucking kill him but God your pussy is good enough to risk it for. Feels like you were made for him. Plus, if he tells you to keep what you're up to on the low, you will.

♡ realllllllyyyy pushed it one day by picking you up off his lap and setting you on his tattoo chair so he could "fuck you right". He hiked your skirt up just enough for easy access and had you nearly in tears on his cock. Had to hold his hand tightly over your mouth so you'd keep quiet and would reprimand you for being so loud. You were trying your best, but it's hard when he's hitting just the right angle inside you and making your legs shake :((

"Do you want everyone else to hear? Fucking slut."

"You're acting like you've never been fucked before, am I really that good?"

"Just shut the fuck up and take my cock- fuck"

♡ usually he's insanely self indulgent and doesn't care to do anything for you but after watching you cum on his cock while laid out on his chair? Something in his brain flipped. He needed to see it again, feel you grip him that tight again.

♡ easiest way to do this for him was immediately flipping you over, face down ass up and burying his face in your pussy from behind. You were basically useless at this point, brain melted and eyes nearly crossed from how good he felt. You had really expected any reciprocation from him so this shit was a treat.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet- I should've done this earlier"

Ill write more on this ASAP but I'm stopping here to gather myself bc I need this man so bad I could literally eat a shopping cart piece by piece-