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bunnylovesani · 1 year ago

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An Arrangement

Summary: You’re a princess taken from your home planet and forced to marry Darth Vader. Turns out life on the Death Star isn’t as bad as everyone makes out. Based on the prompt shared with @luminoustarlight !

Content warnings: p in v sex, degradation, sub dynamics, begging, some violence, slow burn smut

WC: 9.3k

You stare out the grand palatial window in the coronation room, passively observing the flames swallowing the city of your home planet Onderon. Unintelligible screams flood the background, soon mercilessly silenced by the thuds and cracks of brusquely operated laser guns.

So this is how you were to meet your end: powerless at the mercy of the imperial army. You’d been trained for such a scenario before and you always carried a vial of poison in the event of capture; you’d rather die than be made to serve the Empire’s twisted interests.

“Princess, you need to take cover, follow my men into the vault below!” Your faithful attendant, Silas called out in panic.

“No, Silas. I will not cower in the basement waiting for them to breach our walls. I will remain here and eagerly await them.”

“But Your Grace-!”

“Enough.” You bark back. “It’s over. You have been discharged from duty, run while you still can. Thank you for all your years of service, I pray that our paths might cross again in another life.” You turn from him, tears flowing down your stiffeningly cold cheeks.

“May the Maker keep and protect you, Princess. You are our only hope.” He replies solemnly, before fleeing through the stony back passage of the palace.

You chuckle mirthlessly at the futility of his words and reach into your bosom where the corset of your gown has a sewn-in compartment. You extract the compact glass ampule of viper venom, so toxic that one drop is enough to send you into an eternal sleep, and fiddle with the intricate bottle for a few moments. With a heavy sigh, you tuck it under your sleeve; you decided you wanted to gaze into the eyes of your captors before you bid farewell to life.

With a resounding crash, the barricaded gate before you falls and the imperial army- donning armour plastered in dust and foreign blood- swarm into the great hall of the palace. You force the knot in your throat down with a gulp and turn on your heel to face the brutes responsible for the massacre of your people.

“Ah Princess, excellent. We thought you’d be grovelling underground with your father but you’ve just made our job a whole lot easier.” A masked figure that you presume is the Commander of the battalion addresses you. “Grab her. But keep her alive, she’s got a special purpose to fulfil.”

Hearing the ominous plans they have in store for you, you rush to reach for the poison in your sleeve but are hindered by the stampede of soldiers hurtling at you, slapping the vial out of your hand and shattering it all over the nitid marble floor.

‘Ah, ah, ah. Don’t even think about it.” The unnaturally deep voice of the commander booms. “You’ve been specially requested at the behest of the Emperor.” Dread consumes you as you’re roughly cuffed and dragged out of the safety of your childhood home. The soldiers marching comes to a sudden halt and you’re made to turn around and stare at the palace, a deadly silence hanging in the air.

“Burn it.”

Triggered by the commander’s words, a roaring blaze fulminates, the building being crushed in an instant by the force of the explosion. All you can see is the reflection of smouldering flickers through the thick veil of tears filling your eyes.

The commander smugly trudges over to you, sharply inhaling. “Ah, there’s nothing better than the smell of a coward’s smouldering corpse.” He hisses, words dripping with venom. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your heart burned at the injustice, at the innocent civilians decimated- but you couldn’t fool yourself into pretending that scorn extended to your dearly departed father.

Refusing to reply to his provocation with anything other than an expectorated glob of spit aimed at his helmet, he takes the barrel of his gun and pummels it with brute force against your temple. You’re instantly rendered unconscious and your limp body is packed into the nearest starfighter, chained up and ready to make the journey from Onderon to the Death Star.

The first thing you do as you’re rudely awoken is cradle your aching head- a wave of nausea overtaking you and the electric pain behind your eyes knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Rise ’n shine, Onderon whore.” One of the soldiers grabbing you by the elbow spat and you stumbled to your feet like a newborn foal. After being dragged through a fortified steel tunnel, you were harshly thrown to the floor in a cold control room before two cloaked men, one of whom wore black combat boots- no doubt robust and heavy enough to crack open a skull. The light in the battle station glowed painfully bright and you lifted your head as best you could to observe the squabbling figures through squinted eyes.

“Here she is, my young Lord. I think she’ll do nicely, yes?” The ominously raspy voice croaked and you knew at once it was none other than Emperor Sheev Palpatine.

“She’s shivering.” The monotonous voice of the other cloaked figure stated callously and only then did you notice how your body was trembling- whether it was from the cold or the fear, you weren’t sure.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to warm her up on your wedding night.” He cackles wickedly but is met with silence from the man opposite him. The last thing you remember before it all went black was the light reflecting off of the quiet man’s helmet, and wondering what might be lurking underneath.

“Tskk poor thing, look at this cut on your head.” You flutter your eyes open to see a woman in a billowed white cloak tutting and fussing over you. “Good morning, princess.”

“Who are you?” You scowl, trying to get up and immediately being knocked back down by the overwhelming pain.

“Whoa, easy now! Nice ’n slow.” The woman puts her arm around your waist and helps you to sit up. “I’m Sabe, a royal handmaiden. Your handmaiden, to be exact.”

“Where am I?” You croak, uncertain you wanted to know.

“You’re on the Death Star, ma’am.”

Bile rises in your throat at the realisation that none of it was a dream- your recollection of the last 24 hours starts flooding in and your chest seizes in panic. The fire, the cloaked men, the people in the vault.

“You’re all right, just breathe. No harm is going to come to you. He’s made sure of that.” Sabe spouts and your head snaps at her.

“He?”

“Oh yes, Lord Vader gave orders for your protection. Under penalty of death. If you ask me, he just needs a woman’s touch to soften him up and he’d finally succeed in shaking that leech of an emperor off. Suppose that’s where you come in!”

“Me?” You screech, wondering when you’d say something not in the form of a question.

“Oh, you poor thing, you don’t know…the Emperor is arranging a wedding between his young protegee and a princess from a seized planet. The princess being you, if that’s not clear.” She continued chattering incessantly.

“Yes, I got that.” You snap. “And when is this supposed union meant to be taking place?”

“Tonight.”

You choose to remain quiet, rather than parroting back her last word in the form of yet another question.

After your handmaiden assists in bathing and dressing you in clean robes, you still can’t seem to escape the dull throbbing of the headache that permeates every cell of your body, leaving you in persistent agony. You beg Sabe to find something to help, knowing that you yourself weren’t allowed to leave the confines of the east wing. Stepping out onto the enclosed observatory space by your chambers, you stare out into the stars surrounding the vessel. You wished you could break beyond the thick glass enclave and just glide away, joining the stars and freeing yourself from the pain.

“Who hurt you?” A raspy voice questions and you turn around to the sight of Lord Vader, enveloped in his armour and mask.

“Uh, whoever the commander of the battalion was.” You reply, startled.

“He will be dealt with. Now come here.” He reaches his gloved hand out, signalling for you to grab it. With a great deal of uncertainty, you approached him, timidly giving him your hand. He takes it into his palm and holds it firmly to his chest. As if some force had siphoned the contusions and swelling out of you, you felt your agony slowly subside- until there was nothing at all in its wake.

“H-how did you do that?” You took a step back from him, holding your fingers up to your temple in disbelief. You’d heard of force healing before but assumed it was either a myth or a nearly lost practice only wielded by the most masterly of Jedi.

“Go back to your chambers and rest. You have a long ordeal ahead of you.” He leaves your question unanswered and marches out of the observatory as quickly as he entered it.

You’re compelled to follow his commands so you retreat to your chambers, forcing yourself to drink the healing tea Sabe concocted after having decided it was easier than explaining the bizarre experience you’d had. That was the dark Sith Lord that struck terror into the hearts of everyone who faced him? Ruthless, soulless, devoid of all human compassion- and channelling force healing to ease your headache? You spent all afternoon writhing in confusion, all the way up until a neatly packaged box was left on the doorstep of your assigned room. Upon closer inspection, the box contained an intricate white lace dress, paired with a beaded, scallop hemmed headpiece. A wedding outfit.

Standing at the forefront of the cold metallic arena, you twiddled with the sleeves on your dress- the material itching terribly and making your skin crawl. In a way, you were glad to have something occupy your mind beyond the impending prospect of marrying a Sith brute. You wondered why he wore that clunky helmet- is he so hideously deformed he has to hide behind it lest people faint at the sight?

A frightened-looking man you can only assume is the officiator of this sham of a wedding is escorted through the heavily guarded gates and takes his place before you, not daring to make eye contact. Your body fills with dread at the familiar sound of heavy boots dragging along the steel plates of the floor. He doesn’t spare you a passing glance for even a moment, despite your stubborn resolution to face him for the entirety of the ceremony- you wanted to look deep into the supposedly merciless eyes of your new husband. There aren’t any vows, there’s no exchange of rings, no kiss to celebrate the union- just some legal jargon and a couple of witnesses. Although you can’t see him, you can feel Palpatine’s snake eyes burning into you, no doubt observing from another room to ensure his mysterious plan came to fruition.

“Follow me.” A stormtrooper orders you and begins to head back in the direction of your chambers. Confused, you allow him to escort you out of the hall as you see a cloaked figure approach Lord Vader out of the corner of your eye. You just about hear the Emperor’s gravelly voice hiss out the word “consummate” before the doors shut behind you and you’re carried away to the bedroom. For some reason, the thought of sex hadn’t crossed your mind- you assumed villains like him had interests that surpassed such blunt mortal affairs - but now standing in front of your 4-poster bed, waiting for the sound of his heavy footsteps again, reality sunk in. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat and lay on the bed, removing the first layer of your dress and remaining in a white negligee. “Just lie back and think of Onderon.” You thought.

Your whole body tensed as you observed him enter your joint chambers, completely walking past you and going to the connecting bathroom, door left ajar.

“I’m ready, Lord Vader.” You stiffly announce, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible.

Hearing your words, he peers out of the doorway and although you can’t see his face, his body language seems perplexed.

“What are you doing?” He remarks accusingly.

“I-I’m…waiting for you to consummate our marriage. Like Palpatine wishes.” He scoffs at your comment- laughs even- and goes back into the bathroom.

“I will do nothing of the sort.” You hear him say.

Sitting up on the bed and dragging the covers over your exposed body, you’re bewildered.

“Oh, c-can Sith Lords not…?” You stutter, searching for an explanation.

“I assure you I’m perfectly capable.” He snaps back. “I just have no desire for the task.”

Although relief floods your body, you feel slightly offended at the presumption that lovemaking with you should be a task.

Just then, you hear a steamy hissing sound, followed by a loud thud. The figure emerges, back facing you without his layers of armour- donning a simple black shirt and black trousers. He wanders over to the window at the far end of the room, staring out into space.

“I’m sorry about your father.” He grunts after a while and you finally hear his voice- free from robotic static, with no menacing growl - just him, and it sounds beautiful.

“Don’t be.” You say sincerely, fixated on the back of his head. You notice he has dark blonde curls, gathering in tufts at the nape of his neck. “Come on, turn around.” You think, bracing yourself for what you might find.

“Alright, if you insist.” He remarks and you scowl in confusion- you didn’t say that out loud, did you?

He pivots round to face you and you feel as though someone has knocked the air from your lungs: he glares at you with mesmerising cobalt-blue eyes, embellished by abundantly thick lashes and even thicker eyebrows sitting atop his handsomely chiselled face. His cheekbones stand at attention, enhanced by his sculpted jawline, which works in perfect harmony with the rest of his body- even his collarbones are perfect. He’s full of sprightly vigour, he’s young even. You are floored and contemplate how anyone could hide such a face away in that clunky helmet.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” He speaks, sensing the utter shock his appearance has inflicted on you.

“You…you’re-” You stutter.

“Not hideously deformed?”

“-beautiful.”

He raises his bushy eyebrows disapprovingly and you scold yourself for being so forthright. He may be devilishly handsome, but that doesn’t mean you can swoon over him. He’s a monster, remember? Sure, he has the most seductive pair of lips you’d ever seen on a man - all plump and the perfect shade of pink- and sure, he’s sparked a desire within you that you don’t think you’d ever felt before but…where were you going with this?

“I’m going to sleep in the adjoining room, you can take my chambers.” You’re snapped out of your dreamy haze by his velvety voice as he begins to walk away.

“Wait! Y-you don’t have to, I’m sure the bed is uncomfortable over there.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine.” He continues marching away.

“Wait! The bed here is more than big enough for the both of us, we wouldn’t even touch.” You stumble over your words, melting under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Do you want me to sleep with you, Princess?” His movement comes to a halt and you’re rendered speechless. “Because that really would be something. Captured and brutalised after all that you hold dear is set alight, forced to marry a servant of evil- and then you request his company in your bed? That would be deranged. You’re not deranged now, are you Princess?”

Your mouth goes dry at the snarky way in which he’s talking to you- you admit it sounds mad out loud but the situation is more complicated than he thinks.

“N-no.” You mutter, barely above a whisper.

“Good, I wouldn’t want to find out I’ve married damaged goods.” He remarks impertinently. “I’m retiring for the evening- and I am not to be disturbed.” With that, he slams the door between you shut and you slide down your headboard, consumed by embarrassment, shame, desire. His dastardly good looks have really thrown a spanner into the works.

You barely managed to get any sleep that night, much like every night the week following the wedding. Your dreams were plagued by visions- of your father, of your captors, of your husband. Before your seizure, you already knew your future would hold a forced marriage; although an even less desirable one. Your father had plans to marry you off to your cousin, a brainless specimen by the name of Fester who was too dim-witted to even realise he was being used as a pawn in the family’s bloodline feud.

Despite your many attempts to plead and beg your way out of this union, your father dismissed you entirely- even going so far as to sanction you to the confines of your stuffy quarters, striking you remorselessly when you defied his orders.

You’d spent a lifetime dreamily peering out of your windows, waiting to be liberated by a saviour that never came- at least not in the way you thought.

Lord Vader was never present, aside from a very brief juncture in the evenings, when he would pass through your chambers on the way to his bedroom. You tried to make conversation but he either stared at you with dead, unamused eyes or flat-out ignored you. Asking him what he did during his working hours was not one of the things you tried to speak about- much preferring to stay in ignorant bliss- and he was more than happy to not be at the receiving end of your questions for once.

Growing increasingly tired of questioning your purpose on this wretched behemoth of a ship, you took the liberty of posting yourself outside his bedroom that night, waiting to block his exit until he at least acknowledged your existence. You’re ashamed to admit that you selected your nightwear especially for him- tonight choosing to wear the thinnest of slip dresses in the pathetic hopes that he might be drawn in by your pert chest.

As is routine, you hear the doors to your chambers swing open and are greeted with the welcome sight of the young Lord, who strides over to you intimidatingly. Removing his helmet and towering before you, you gulp at not just the height difference- but the sheer broadness of his shoulders compared to your slender ones.

“Move.” He states, glaring at you unaffectedly.

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” You stubbornly huff and you think you spot a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You don’t give the orders around here, Princess.” He asserts as he lifts you up by the waist with ease and drops you out of his way like you were a meagre traffic obstruction. You’re filled with disbelief as he enters his room, shutting the door in your face. “At least he didn’t slam it tonight.” You ponder.

Slouching down the door defeatedly, you pout as you hear him undress, desperately in need of an explanation.

“Please.” You plead pitiably, not expecting him to hear you.

You almost fall to the floor as your backrest swings open, and you lift your head to see him, sighing above you.

“What is it?”

“I-I just wanna know some things.” You mutter, cradling your knees on the floor.

“Then talk.” He taps his foot impatiently.

“Well uh- for starters, why am I here?” You rise from the floor to face him. “Why did Palpatine want you to marry me?”

“He wants me to sire a son- to ensure his plans can be carried out should I be otherwise indisposed.” He looks away coldly.

“I don’t understa-“

“Palpatine will live into his 200s. I am only human. If I am killed, he wants another apprentice to bend to his will, one just as strong with the force.”

“So why haven’t you attempted to do any siring yet?” He looks at you with a look of intense shock, disgust even. Of all the things he’s said, you take issue with his lack of action in the bedroom.

“I refuse to participate in this charade. He’ll see that you’re barren after a while- and we’ll dispose of you accordingly.”

“But I’m not barren.” You interject, dismissing the latter part of his sentence.

“It would be in your best interests to pretend you are.” You’re beguiled by his smooth voice and find yourself yearning to hear it all night. “I’ve brought someone to keep you company, hopefully with them in attendance you’ll be less inclined to seek my attention.”

“Another handmaiden? Ah, spare me- the current one is more than irritating enough on her own.” You shudder at the thought of 2 Sabes, prattling in your ear all day.

“No, I’ve ordered for the capture of your former attendant. I believe you were quite fond of him- Silas, is it?”

Your heart seizes, he’s alive? More importantly, he’s being brought to you? You stare at the scowling face of your husband, who looks afraid you might try to do something overly affectionate.

“A purely self-indulgent measure. To prevent any future ambushes like the one tonight.” He backtracks, attempting to impose some distance but you disregard it entirely. “If that’s not enough to keep you occupied, you can also have access to my private library - Silas will be waiting for you there tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” You whisper, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping your arms against his waist, face snugly pressed into his firm chest. You feel him tense up at the intrusion, but he relaxes ever so slightly with an exhale, hovering his arms above your own- careful not to let them touch lest he give you the impression he’s embracing you back.

“Call me Anakin.” He mumbles softly.

You wake up the next day, your chest feeling lighter than it has in years. Bounding out of bed, you instil deep confusion in Sabe, who enters your room with fresh clothes.

“Having a good morning?” She asks.

“I think actually, yes. Yes, I am.” You reply resolutely, allowing her to dress you without your usual complaints as she tightens your corset.

“Might this have anything to do with Lord Vader?” She raises an eyebrow, consumed with curiosity.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I see that my new life might not be so bad after all. I believe I have someone waiting for me, you’re dismissed for now, Sabe.” You waltz out of your chambers to the library that Anakin mentioned you were granted entrance to.

You enter the room and stare in wonder at the rows upon rows of polished shelves, furnished with all kinds of large, leather-bound books. Among the volumes of publications is a tall, spindly man- standing with his back turned.

“Silas!” You cry out and dart towards him, colliding against him in a tight embrace.

“Princess! Let me look at you, are you hurt?” He grabs your face, inspecting it for any cuts or bruises.

“No, no I’m perfectly fine!” You smile.

“How could you possibly be fine? I heard about the wedding- it’s a scandal, it’s a disgrace! The intergalactic senate will hear about this- I promise I will get you out!“

“Silas, it’s okay, I’m being treated well here.” Your reply sends him into a stunned silence.

“You’ve been married to a Sith Lord. A princess of the purest blood made to intermingle with the lap dog of the Emperor. I don’t even want to think about what you’ve been forced to do here to survive.” He shudders.

“I haven’t been made to do anything. And Anakin really isn’t that bad once you get to know him a little.”

“Anakin?” Silas almost breaks out in hives at what he’s hearing.

“Yeah, that’s his real name. And oh, Silas, he’s so handsome!” You clamber on, reading the titles off a nearby bookshelf and digging for something that might take your fancy.

“I don’t believe this. One week under captivity and you’ve been brainwashed already.” He takes his head into his hands.

“I haven’t been brainwashed.” You chuckle. “Anakin is the one who brought you here. Just for me. And he lets me have the nicest quarters on the ship- and I’m allowed private access to the whole library!” You gush.

“So he’s built you a very pleasant cage. Fantastic. Just because your prison has a nice interior doesn’t make it your home.”

“Well, it’s no less of a prison than Onderon was. At least in this one, my marriage isn’t incestuous.” Silas’s eyes widen beyond measure at the boldness of your statement and he takes a seat before he collapses.

“He used the force to heal me when I was in pain.”

“And what caused you to be hurt in the first place?” He snaps back accusingly.

“Silas, listen to me.” You kneel beside him, taking his hand into your own. “I’ve spent too many years worrying about the fate of my future, cursing the Maker for how little control I had over my own destiny. No more. I can only take life as it comes in small waves- I have relinquished control. This is my new home now.”

With a heavy sigh, Silas nods- looking away as if unable to process your revelation.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” You say, mischievous twinkle in your eye.

The remainder of the day is spent flicking through various books, amassing a pile of them in your bedroom so high that you could barely see Sabe’s head poking through when she entered.

“Um, m’lady? If you won’t be requiring anything else for the night, can I retire? Silas and I were thinking of wandering down to the observatory by my quarters…”

“Of course, Sabe, enjoy.” You chuckle as she meekly smiles and exits your room. You knew they’d hit it off, one perennial chatterbox with another. Flicking through the last page of the first edition volume of The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, you hummed discontentedly. “What a terrible ending.” You thought as you inspected the piles on your floor for the second volume. You suspect you must’ve left it in the library when you were packing your books onto the trolley so you wrap a thin robe around yourself and march down the hall. You notice the lights already burning as you enter the library cautiously, peering your head through to see Anakin, sitting on an armchair and reading something out of a thick, metal-encased manual.

“What’s your book about?” You query as you approach him slowly.

“It’s a story about a very naughty princess who loves to go looking for trouble.” He sneers, lip curling up into the shadow of a smile.

“No, it’s not!” You titter as you pry over the bind, seeing various starfighter diagrams and mechanical cross-sections.

“What do you want now?” He shuts the book promptly.

“I just came to collect something I left behind.” You reply innocently.

“I trust you’re enjoying my collection, then.” He looks up at you for the first time and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his dreamy eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s very impressive. I didn’t think Sith Lords read so much.”

“They don’t.” He gets up from his chair, sauntering over to a nearby shelf and picking out a specific book. “Try this, I think you’ll like it.” He throws the book in your direction and you catch it; observing the cover, you speculate it’s some kind of historical tale about a lost civilisation.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to read it.” You tuck it under your arm. “Are you retiring for the night yet?”

“Yes, I’ll leave the library to you.” He gets up to leave but you stand in front of him.

“I was only here to get something, escort me back?” You ask and he looks you up and down before making a low grunting sound, something you can only assume is a sign of acceptance. He heads out the door and you follow, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“I never got to thank you.” You say as you enter your chambers, seizing the short moment you have to converse before he disappears into his bedroom.

“What could you possibly have to thank me for?” He rolls his eyes.

“For rescuing me.” You reach out to touch him by the arm but back down, courage failing you.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“No, really. My circumstances back home were…less than ideal.” You stare down at your feet.

“I admit I find it peculiar that you don’t seem to be in mourning.” He notes, more intrigue in his tone than you’re used to.

“Would you be in mourning over a man who oppressed and rebuked you at every turn?”

“I see. I suppose that explains your…unorthodox behaviour.” For the very first time, he takes a seat on the chaise lounge by your bed- does he actually want to have this conversation with you?

“I guess you could say that. After he locked me up in the palace and forced me to accept my cousin’s betrothal, I abandoned all hope for the future and resigned myself to perpetual misery. And then you came along.” He squints his eyes, looking almost frustrated with your positivity.

“Are you sure you understand the situation you’ve found yourself in? You’re aware you’ve been abducted- forced to spend every day locked up here, never to see your planet or familiars again? Forced to play wife to me?” He gawks incredulously.

“You’re not as bad as you make out.” You smile at him. “And you’re certainly very easy on the eyes.” You look for changes in his demeanour but it remains unaffected. “Would you have preferred it if I was terrified and unwilling to go near you?”

“Terrified? Of course not, the thought of it sickened me. Unwilling to go near me? I’m not sure I’d mind.” He states and you wonder if that was his way of making a joke. “I regret that you’ve been ensnared into this. I wish it could’ve been different.”

“I don’t.” You pluck up the courage to sit beside him, placing your hand on his leg. “I can see there’s goodness within you. It’s almost tangible in the way you treat me.”

“Clearly I’ve given you the wrong impression.” He mutters gruffly, visibly uncomfortable. “And you can stop wearing those little dresses around me. All you’re going to succeed in doing is get frostbite.” He pushes your hand off him.

“Do you find me that repulsive?” You question sharply, tired of being made to feel undesirable. “I’ve been told my looks rival that of some of the fairest Princesses in the galaxy. Is a man like yourself so completely cold to the affections of women?”

“I fail to see how that is relevant.” He dismisses.

“It’s relevant because I’m tired of my bed being cold. You chose to marry me, now act like a husband!”

“What choice? I had no choice!” He shouts back and your blood runs cold when he stands towering over you.

“That makes two of us. But I fail to see what good can come from sulking about it.” You lower your tone.

“You’re that desperate, huh?” He sneers condescendingly.

“So what if I am?” You throw caution to the wind, fully aware of the way you’re debasing yourself right now; after the breadcrumbs of affection he’d been giving you, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine.” He says, making his way over to the bed, ripping off his shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” You murmur as he undresses and positions himself in the middle of your stately bed.

“I’m ready, Princess.” He mocks, parroting what you’d said to him on your wedding night. “You wanted to fuck me, right? Well here I am. At your royal disposal.”

“N-not like this.” You mutter, trying not to stare at his firm pecs or chiselled abdomen.

“What’s the matter? You’ve been prancing around in those little dresses all week, practically begging me to give you a scrap of my attention and now I’m in our marital bed, you’re too scared?”

“I’m not scared, I just don’t want to feel like I’m forcing myself on you.” You mutter quietly, drained of all confidence.

“You’re worried about all the wrong things. Palpatine told me to brutalise you to within an inch of your life, you know that? To take all my anger out on you and make you pay for the sins of your family. And you’re worried about whether you’re taking advantage of me. I fear I have been too soft. You seem to forget who you’re speaking to.”

“But you didn’t.” You sniffle.

“What?”

“But you didn’t do those things. You’re a good man, Anakin.” Your voice softens and you climb up the bed to join him, allowing your gaze to linger on the small line of blonde curling hair starting from his belly button, travelling down to what lay underneath his underwear.

“No. I haven’t quite lost all my humanity.” He breathes heavily, seemingly noticing your staring.

“Let me show you my appreciation.” You bit your lip and bravely met his intense gaze. He doesn’t respond, the only noticeable reaction being his eyes wandering down to your breasts, thin material doing little to conceal your pert nipples.

“Do you wish to see me?” You ask, fingers toying with the straps as he huffs slightly, acting as though this were beneath him- but still remaining silent. You shrug the material off, revealing your round, perky breasts to him. You think you can see something twitching in his boxers but you can’t be sure.

“Can I?” You ask, gesturing to sit on his lap but he remains speechless. “Please, my Lord, I need to hear you-“

“Yes.”

A grin spreads across your face as you mount him, completely bare. Putting your hands on his chest, you move your hips a little to feel him. Not that you were expecting any less for a man of his stature, but you felt yourself getting soaked at his formidable size; he was surely 8 inches, and just as satisfyingly thick. Your eyes fall to his pretty face and you’re overcome with the urge to kiss him all over. Reaching down to plant small kisses over his temple and cheeks, you feel him stiffen even more.

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You pant as you capture his lips in a soft kiss, brushing them against each other. You can feel him almost fighting the urge to hold you so you take the initiative and grab him by the jaw, kissing him deeply and passionately. You think you hear a moan slip out of his mouth but when you pull away, he’s still got the same cold expression on his beautiful face- brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed in disaffection.

“If you’re waiting for me to make a move, it’s not going to happen.” He sighs, looking fatigued. A quiet rage simmers within you. You’ve had suitors lining up at the palace gates since you were a teenager and now this glorified servant is behaving as though he is the prize. You craved the chance to teach him not to underestimate you, to make him see you were special. “On another occasion, perhaps.” You thought. Tonight, you just wanted to make him writhe beneath you.

“If you’re going to be making snarky comments all evening, I’m going to stuff my panties in your mouth to silence you.”

“What panties? You didn’t wear any.” He grins and your chest sets alight. However brief it was, it’s the first time you’ve seen a genuine smile. His teeth were pearly and straight, and his smile broad enough to reach across his whole face in a bright, radiant flash. You felt like your day had gotten better just by being witness to it.

“Why do you always do that?” He breaks your trance.

“Huh, do what?”

“Disassociate. You stare right through me when you do it.”

“M’sorry. I can’t help it.” You feel a fierce shyness overcome you.

“You find me that handsome?”

“Yes.” You whisper. You have no idea why you’re admitting to it.

“Is that why you don’t mind being married to me?” He continues and you’re confused by the volume of questions coming your way- it’s more than he’s talked to you all week.

“Partly.” He smirks a little at the ego boost and places his hands on the back of his neck, arm muscles flexing as they’re extended. You trail a line from the centre of his chest down to his abdomen with the tip of your index finger, stopping as you reach the band of his boxers. You look up at him and he raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to go further. Toying with the band for a little while, you steel yourself and pull them down in one prompt motion. You have to hold in a wince as you take it in- in all its thick, veiny glory. With a shuddery breath, you savour the view before you: his strong, toned arms trailed down to his athletic torso, v-line achingly defined and sloping down to his large, pink-tipped member. “Even his dick is pretty.” You mentally cursed. His smirking, confident simper never faltered, not feeling a fragment of insecurity for even a moment.

Knowing you weren’t going to get any warming up from him, you lifted your hips and angled yourself up, tip kissing your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly sunk down on him, lowering yourself gradually until your bare skin brushed against the curls around the base of his cock. He shuts his eyes for a moment and exhales lightly, pretty lips forming into a small o shape. You try to subdue the overwhelming feeling of being filled so deeply, not wanting to stroke his ego even more than you already have. You begin to move, riding him very slowly and focusing on his chest as it rises and falls, eyes watering at the sensation of being stretched out. Worrying that he’s going to question why you’re going so slow, you begin to speed up even though it aches.

“Slow down.” He speaks softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“As if you care.” You huff.

“Don’t get on my bad side, Princess.” He shoots you a deadly glance and you slow back down, knowing better than to disobey him. It takes you a good while to accommodate to his size, oo’s and aa’s escaping your mouth every time you straighten up and sink down on his cock a little too deeply- but after the adjustment period, you start to ride him confidently. Your tits bounce with a hypnotising jiggle as you smack the flesh of your ass against his thighs, wetness drenching you both. Noticing how his arms lay by his side, you grab him by the wrist and lay them on your hips. He grips onto them slightly for a moment, but quickly releases and lets them fall back down to his sides. You whine a little, starved of affection. You were bouncing on his cock yet you still felt like you weren’t close.

“Please?” You moan.

“You wanted this, not me. I said I’m not participating, didn’t I?” His voice rings out, completely unaffected while you were a panting mess.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not- ah- enjoying it. F-feels good, doesn’t it?” You stutter, feeling his tip prodding that spongy spot within you that threatens to be your undoing.

“It’s fine.” He replies, still refusing to engage in any meaningful way.

“Oh come on, Anakin! Give me something.” You feel like you’re one snarky comment away from resorting to begging.

“I’ve given you my cock. What more do you want out of me?”

“I want you to talk to me, I want you to touch me. To be present!”

“And I want for my wife to not be such a whore.” Your mouth gapes open at his harsh words, but you continue bouncing, getting too close to stop now. “I mean seriously, you’re being held hostage and all you can think about is getting fucked? There’s nothing in that little brain of yours other than visions of me fucking you, is there? I’ve seen them.”

You moan at his degrading words- if you weren’t so cock drunk, you might be ashamed of the way you’re allowing him to speak to you.

“Oh my God, are you gonna cum from me talking down to you? Does me calling you a stupid whore get you off?” He rambles and you can’t stop yourself from turning into a whimpering mess, moans spilling out at every turn and unintelligible groans flooding the room as you bounce on his cock.

He reaches up towards you and you think he might be pulling you in for a kiss but instead, he hooks his fingers into the corners of your mouth, stretching it out. You babble out disjointed syllables, too overwhelmed to establish a rhythm that isn’t completely sloppy.

“The fuck are you even saying right now?” He laughs and oh god, there’s that smile again- if his cock wasn’t enough, now his grin is making your legs feel like jelly.

“What are these dumb little sounds you’re spluttering out? You sound like an idiot.” The lewd squelching noises increase in intensity as you fall apart on top of him in a sudden climax- pleasure hitting you like a truck and nearly knocking you out. You pant on top of him, trying to catch your breath with your head resting on his chest. He clears his throat after a minute and you shuffle off him, laying your head on the nearby pillow instead.

“Wow. That was…did you not cum?” It occurs to you that you’d just used him for your own pleasure.

“Of course not.” He gruffly responds, legs still spread and cock exposed, glistening with your arousal. “I have self control.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask and he turns to face you.

“You’re like a bitch in heat. It’s not very princess-like of you.”

“Well, I’m not a princess anymore. I’m a Sith Lord’s wife.” You counter.

“Wives don’t ride like that.” You know he didn’t mean it as a compliment but you chose to take it as one anyway.

“Aren’t you going to cover up?” You point at his exposed body while you clutch the crisp white sheets around yourself.

“Why should I?” He snaps back and you’re taken aback by his show of confidence. And you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, I bet you aren’t.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that! It’s unnatural.” You complain.

“I don’t ordinarily pay such close attention to these things but your mind is so dirty.”

“Oh yeah? What have I been thinking about in the last couple minutes then?”

“You’ve been wondering how I’m both a shower and a grower, how you’ve never been so wet before - oh, and how you want to fuck me again.” Your cheeks redden at his painfully accurate observations- and you feel his vulgarity plant a renewed desire within you.

“Really, you want another round? Fine. Hop on.” He sighs, tapping his thigh. You stare at him affectionately with a smile as if to say “really?” and you clamber over him again. You only have to press your dripping body against him once and he quickly hardens again, tip oozing with precum. You waste no time impaling yourself, pussy swallowing him greedily- slightly sore but still stretched out enough to take him with ease.

“Anakin, please.” You mumble, reaching for his hands- needing to feel them on your skin.

“What do you want?” He replies breathily.

“Please, touch me.” You slide up and down his shaft, body racked with delirious pleasure. “Pleasepleaseplease - please Anakin!” He scoffs smilingly at how you’ve been reduced to a needy mess before he’s even put an ounce of effort in. “Do you want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees and beg- please, touch me just a little, please Ani-“

“Alright, alright, enough!” He stops you and you wince at his harsh tone, wishing that just for once, he’d be gentle with you.

“I’m sorry, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He reaches out and wraps his hands around your dainty waist, right arm gradually trailing up your body. His knuckles brush against your cheek tenderly before he wraps his strong hand around your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You squeak in shock at the unexpected affection as your breasts press against his chest, one hand squishing your soft flesh and the other wrapped up in your hair.

“Mmm, Ani.” You hum, your deepest craving finally quelled.

“No one’s called me that in a really long time.” He mumbles into the kiss, sliding both hands down to your ass cheeks and gripping them firmly.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks as he slides you on and off him, commanding your movements with his strong grasp.

“Oh God yes, fuck Ani- ah.” You gasped as he began lifting his hips and fucking his cock into you, fingernails digging into your hips. “‘m not gonna last much longer if you keep go -oh, just like th- aah.”

“You don’t need to.” He whines, finally allowing himself to utter his own sweet sounds.

“Nuh uh, I-I want you to cum with me.” You whimper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. Cradling you, he wraps one arm around your back and rests his other hand on the back of your head while drilling you with such vigour you almost black out.

“Shh, baby, shh- ’s okay.” He moans and your walls flutter at the heavenly sound. Try as you may, you can’t stop the drool that streams out of your mouth, fucked so dumb that you’re losing control over your senses.

“You’re close, can feel you gripping me.” He sputters, barely audible over the sound of your squeals. “You want the whole ship to hear you, huh?”

“I want them all to know who I belong to.” You manage to get out clearly, trying to get a handle on your faculties. Rising up from being tucked into his neck, you start bouncing on him with the excitement of a little bunny, so desperate to bring him to his release. You look down at him, eyes screwed shut, gnawing on his bottom lip and you feel how furiously his eager cock throbs inside you.

“Want you to fill me up.” You warble, dropping your hands to lay on either side of his face, soft locks brushing against your wrists. “I wanna be yours.” You stare into his eyes, which have just fluttered open, eyebrows knitted close together.

“You’re already mine.” He whispers, grabbing you by the waist and turning you over in one swift motion, your back hitting the plumpness of the bed. Before you can take a breath, he slams into you again and your back arches from the overstimulation.

Hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you deeper into him, he roughly pounds against you, cock gliding into your sensitive core. You try to focus yourself, gnawing on your lip and mentally repeating: “You can’t cum this quickly again.”

“Oh yes, you can.” He asserts mischievously, speeding up his sloppy strokes until your eyes roll to the back of your head. You grip the sheets around you, trying desperately to hold on for just a few seconds longer.

“Don’t you dare.” He growls, slapping against you roughly. Beads of sweat trickle down his defined pecs, down to the creamy mess where your bodies meet. With one final gloopy thrust, you scream out his name and collapse entirely, body convulsing with pleasure as he moans at the sight, burying his face into your thigh.

“Goddamn…” You hear him mutter as he continues using your body like a toy, dragging you onto him in a way that you don’t even notice in your cock drunk stupor. You hear a glorious groan escape his lips as he pulls out, painting your body with his creamy white cum.

“Why’d you pull out?” You whine, completely spent and feeling woefully empty now that your bodies weren’t connected anymore.

“You know why.” He exhales as his head hits the pillow beside you. “I refuse to let a child come into this.” You huff a little but feel too exhausted to argue.

Shuffling over, you test his boundaries by leaning your head against his shoulder. When he noticeably stiffens and backs away a little, you sit up hastily to face him.

“Really, Anakin? You’re still not comfortable around me?”

“I’m as comfortable as I need to be.” He murmurs and you let out a fussy whine.

“I’ve just given myself to you entirely and you can’t even hold me after? Please, Ani, you’re making me feel really-“

“Fine! If it’ll get you to be quiet.” He pulls you in swiftly, his strong arm wrapped around you protectively and you let out a satisfied hum while he shakes his head- no doubt wondering how he got stuck with such a petulant child.

The days that followed were full of you waltzing around the ship, lost in your daydreams. Anakin had been dispatched to a different system for a mission and much to your displeasure, wouldn’t return for several days yet; you never knew exactly how long his journeys would last, you only knew they were doubtlessly too long. You missed him dearly - and if the way he hugged you back before he left was any indication- you were growing on him too.

After enthusiastically getting through the book Anakin recommended, he told you that he’d left a stack out by his desk in the library- a personally hand-picked selection that he believed you’d enjoy. Your heart fluttered at the thought and you felt yourself keenly gliding over to it. You reminisced fondly about the way his soft hair felt when it brushed through your hands, how his dreamy eyes made you weak at the knees- how he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. You didn’t realise it was possible for someone to be so perfect- so what if he had an unsavoury pastime? It was a flaw you were willing to overlook if it meant you got to wake up next to that face.

Entering the library, you hum a chirpy song and float over to the desk where you find a neat pile of books in varying colours and sizes. Just as you were about to pick the first one out of the stack, Silas rushes in- scruffy and disorganised, looking over his shoulder.

“Princess! Princess, you must hurry. They’re here- they’re finally here.” He sputters, grabbing onto your wrist like a madman and leading you out.

“Slow down! What’s going on?” You question, wondering why you were running along with him.

“Oh but we must be quick, the stormtroopers can only be held off for so long! Sabe is leading the distraction-“

“What are you talking about?”

“Word finally reached them, they’re finally here!”

“Who? Who’s here?” You shout back, brain spinning in confusion.

“The Senate has sent an army - a rescue team for you!” Silas stares at you with crazed eyes, sweating with anxiety. “We can finally go home!”

“W-what?” You stutter, allowing him to lead you out to the docking bay where you can see a battleship undoubtedly belonging to the Galactic Republic- suspended midair awaiting boarding.

“Wait, wait, no.” You backtrack but the grip Silas has around your wrist is too strong to easily break from.

“You don’t mean to tell me you wish to stay here with that brute?” He glances back at you, face painted with disgust as he pushes on for the last few metres left until you reach the ship. “He doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s not true!” You shout, propellers buzzing over you with a furious intensity.

“Is that so? Then why isn’t he putting up a fight right now?” He gestures behind you and you turn around to where the observatory window is. There he is, standing behind the glass, looking at you calmly.

“Do you see? He doesn’t even care enough to stop you!” Silas digs his fingernails into your wrist as you reach the ship, doors unloading with a steamy hiss. “Get in!” He yells, pushing you forward with all his might.

He’s letting you go. He’s letting you leave.

“No!” You fight back, striking Silas across the face and sprinting out of his reach as soon as his grasp on you loosens.

“You idiot! Stay here and rot with those Sith devils!” He curses, clambering up the stairs and smacking the handle, signalling for them to shut. Tears course roughly down your face as you stand back and see the ship ascending before darting off into the distance in a beaming flash. Turning around, you run as fast as your feet will carry you, scrambling up to the observatory to the man you’d just abandoned life as you knew it for.

Throwing the doors open, you see him: mouth parted, eyebrows raised and a singular tear rolling down his cheekbone. You jump into his arms, colliding and entangling yourself with him.

“Why did you do that, huh?!” He grabs your face with both hands, kissing you desperately. “Why would you do something so stupid?” You break out into a sob as he mumbles against your lips. “I would’ve let you go, you could’ve left.”

“I know, that’s why I stayed.” You wrap your hands around his own, still in a firm grip around your face. “I love you, Ani.” You gaze up at him with such adoration he feels his cold heart bursting.

“I love you too.”

As soon as the words leave his beautiful lips, you leap to kiss them- trying desperately to memorise every detail and every sensation that belonged to this moment.

“I-I thought you would’ve surely left if you could.” He murmurs, struggling to break away from your lips. “Thought you were jus’ making the most out of a bad situation.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You say sincerely, hoping he could feel the love you have for him pouring out of you.

“I don’t believe my eyes.” A dreaded raspy voice resonates across the room. “The Princess has fallen in love with my apprentice. And he seems to love her back? Now this is just precious.” Anakin stands in front of you protectively, pushing you back.

“She will prove to be useful in the future.” The Emperor hisses, glaring at you with an empty hunger in his eyes. “Now that she has demonstrated her loyalty.”

“It’s the last show of loyalty you’ll ever see.” Anakin spits as he draws his lightsaber from the left belt hook on his robes and strikes Palpatine, beheading him in one swift motion before he can even register what’s struck him.

“He always taught me that even the most powerful of enemies can be defeated-“ He turns to face you, retracting his glowing lightsaber. “with the element of surprise.”

A twisted grin creeps up on your face as he swoops you up like a true bride- lifting you with a firm hold and carrying you out of the room while you wrap your arms around his neck, planting kisses all over.

“I think it’s high time me and my wife got some privacy, don’t you think?” He gestures at the incoming stormtroopers, who confusedly back away after spotting Palpatine’s decapitated body. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You giggle as he carries you to your chambers, throwing you onto the bed and peering out of the large doors one last time before shutting them with a loud clamber- ah, free from disturbance at last.

@erinkeifer @crazy4men @mortalheartache @arzua10

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #darth vader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #life as a house #anakin x reader smut #anakin fluff #sw anakin #star wars anakin #darth vader smut

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wheelscomedyandmore · 1 month ago

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You Might Not Ever Guess

Captain Kangaroo passed away on January 23, 2004 as age 76 , which is odd, because he always looked to be 76. (DOB: 6/27/27 ) His death reminded me of the following story.

Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery . His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer:

I always liked Lee Marvin, but didn't know the extent of his Corps experiences.

In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions.

Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor

If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery.

Dialog from "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson": His guest was Lee Marvin Johnny said, "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima ..and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."

"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the bottom and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi. Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew... We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. That dumb guy actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by, with mortar rounds landing everywhere and he stood there as the main target of gunfire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life.

That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?' Well Bob.. if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"

Johnny, I'm not lying, Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.

The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan. You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth.

But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeved sweater on TV, to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. He was a master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat.

After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid away the tattoos and his past life and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.

America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did; they quietly go about their day-to-day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.

Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst.

Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened.

Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.

Send this on will you please? Nothing will happen to you if you don't, but it will tell what a "real" HERO is made of.

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kingkatsuki · 8 months ago

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I started this in March and I finally managed to finish it. It was only supposed to be a short thirst post but yet here we are. Thank you if you decide to give it a go💕

Summary: Tengen thinks Sanemi is wound far too tight, and of course he knows just the way to fix it— by taking him to his favourite brothel.

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, reader is a courtesan, implied!Tengen using their services, virgin!Sanemi, sex as a transaction, slight degradation, praise, blowjobs, cum swallowing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, Sanemi is way too obsessed with reader way too fast (but she likes it!!)

Word Count: 9.4k.

“Allow yourself to indulge a little, my friend,” Tengen clapped his shoulder with a grin, “After all that’s what this district is for.”

“I have no time for indulgence.” Sanemi scoffed, ripping his shoulder out of Tengen’s grip as he bared his front incisors.

It was already insufferable enough that he’d had to spend the last few nights with the Sound Pillar, but it was made worse by the grand spectacle he’d made when they’d both entered the entertainment district for the first time. The bright lights paired with the bustling crowds seemed to evoke even more intolerable actions from Uzui and Sanemi couldn’t wait to get home.

“There’s always time for indulgence, my friend,” He persisted, not taking his answer for gospel as he continued down the brightly illuminated street, “And don’t you want to experience the soft touch of a woman?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Sanemi sneered, rolling his eyes as Tengen waved over at a group of women who were standing at the entrance to an establishment trying to coax him over.

All Sanemi wanted to do was find a bed at the local inn and rest his head for a few hours so he could be alert when searching for the demon that was rumoured to be sighted in the area. It disgusted him that people were seemingly still out satiating themselves with cheap frivolity when lives were at risk.

“You can’t die a virgin,” He continued, mid-wave, “How embarrassing.”

“You need to assess your priorities if that is what you assume to be an embarrassment.” He snapped, “Not when there are still demons alive—”

“Ah, I worry as much as you,” Sanemi highly doubted it, “But You never know you might find yourself relaxing a bit.” Tengen persisted, “Might find yourself less angry.”

Sanemi sneered as he balled his hands into a fist, preparing to land a strike against his cocky fellow hashira before Tengen pulled back the purple fabric to a building at the side of them, stepping inside the brothel.

“You can wait outside if you want, I’m sure you’ll find the street performers more than entertaining.”

Sanemi glanced towards the rowdy men who were currently playing instruments in the middle of the street, the loud noise irksome as people stopped to dance with them. Scrunching his nose in irritation as he turned to face the Sound Pillar.

“Fine,” His lips smoothed into a thin line, “But you’re fuckin’ paying.”

Sanemi lingered outside as he stared at the wisteria pattern against the curtain. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought before he took a deep breath and followed inside.

“Ah, Mr Uzui, your usual?”

“Not today,” He clapped a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder, “I’ve brought a friend.”

Sanemi could see the girls in the background begin to cower away, even though they tried to hide it. Shrugging Uzui’s hand off his shoulder with a growl of irritation as he tried to avoid the pairs of eyes watching him intently, jaw locked as he sucked in a breath of air.

“How wonderful, Uzui-sama.” The lady bowed as she motioned to a young girl, “Our Oiran is unavailable now, but I’m certain she will more than suffice.”

The girl cowered in fear as she was given a push in her lower back in an attempt to get her feet to start working, the poor thing. She’d barely been here a week and she’d already had a difficult afternoon with a travelling samurai who’d assumed being rough was included with the price.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Shinazugawa.” Uzui called out from behind him as Sanemi glared in irritation. There was certainly no chance of that happening, especially at the sight of the young girl that looked close to tears.

“It would be my honor to serve you tonight, my Lord.” You chanced stepping forward, feeling your Madame turn to glare at you.

“Remember your place,” She jeered, the same sickly sweet smile on her face to mask her indignation before turning back to the hashira, “I’m sorry, Shinazugawa-sama. Please let us show you to your room—”

“I want her.” He cut her off coldly, tired eyes matching your gaze as an unfamiliar heat lingered in your chest.

“Not to question your choice, my Lord. But we have many excellent options here—”

“Keep them.” He stepped towards you as you took this as your moment to turn around. Ignoring your Madame’s calls for him to enjoy his night, and request a change at any time if he so desired. It was no wonder she was worried about you tarnishing her reputation, trying to palm to hashira off on someone far more weak willed. But you were intrigued by the man from the moment he stepped through the door, and the poor girl needed a chance to recover from her ordeal.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as you led him down the wooden hallway towards your room, keeping enough of a distance as you slid the screen door open gently. Stepping to the side to invite him in with a slight bow of your head as the white-haired man followed into the room, scrunching his nose at the potent smell of flowers that permeated the air as you closed the door behind you. It was sickly sweet, worse than the ohagi he’d cook at home; invading his senses as he tried to ignore the scent throbbing at the back of his skull.

You could feel how awkward he was, lingering by the doorway as you could cut the tension in the air with a blade. Smoothing down the front of your kimono as you stood in front of him, noticing the way his lavender eyes took note of the futon in the corner of the room.

So this was the seedy shit that Uzui got up to in his free time? Sanemi scoffed.

An impertinent man with three wives who still managed to find the time to spend in the arms of another. Having one woman would be enough of a nuisance, he thinks. But juggling four sounded like pure greed.

“Can I get you anything Shinazugawa-sama?” You smiled, “Tea? Sake? We also have fresh onigiri—”

Sanemi wished you’d stop calling him that. He usually delighted in the honorific when he was called it by others, but the saccharine lilt to your voice as you danced along his name had his cock pulsing between his thighs uncomfortably.

“No.” He bit back the insult that threatened to follow as you nodded in affirmation.

“Well, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable for your time here,” You continued, “Our services are open to the Hashira for as long as they see fit.”

He scoffed at that, knowing that a Hashira’s pocket was rarely empty so it made sense they’d want to make as much money from them as possible.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You smiled softly, noticing he was silent as he remained still. The cogs in his head slowly turned as he wondered why he’d even agreed to this in the first place, how he’d even made it this far.

“You think I’m scared or somethin’?” Sanemi gibed, maybe a little harsher than intended, but it felt warranted. Your words made it seem as though you were questioning his valour. And Shinazugawa Sanemi never backed down in fear, especially not like this.

“No,” You tilted your head to the side and Sanemi felt his heart rattle at his cages with how cute you looked. Trying to fight the heat that was slowly rising through his body and tickling the tips of his ears.

He felt hot. If he’d have known this was how easily it was to increase his body temperature warm enough to potentially receive a mark, he would’ve demanded that Uzui bring him here a long, long time ago—

“I can just tell you’ve never been here before,” You hummed, “It’s probably unfamiliar to what you’re used to.”

You were right. Sanemi felt completely out of his depth.

“I have no desire to frequent a whorehouse.” He spat, masking his vulnerability. And yet he was acutely aware of the way you didn’t flinch like many would, cowering away from him in fear as though he were a coiled snake ready to attack.

It was at that moment your eyes met his across the room, and for the first time, he recognised the desolate emptiness in your eyes. He recognised it because it was the same one he held whenever he glanced at his reflection. So much time spent wallowing in self-loathing and pity, forcing himself to submerge himself in sheer hatred instead of looking at the ones around him. Sanemi could tell you’d been through a lot too, suffering at the hands of many while being forced into a life you’d never wanted for yourself. Much like him.

“But you’re here anyway, so you might as well relax for the time,” You smiled back, and it only pained him more that he’d spoken to you with such callousness, “And at least you can avoid your friend for a few hours.”

“Is that what all your visitors come here to do?” He sneered but did not attempt to move.

“To linger in the doorway?” You raised a brow, “No, you would be the first.”

Sanemi felt a heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears at this, noticing he’d barely stepped inside the room since you’d brought him this far.

“I don’t bite, you know.” You laughed as you watched him frozen in place.

Could you tell he was a virgin? He wondered if it was obvious from the way he lingered as his body became engulfed in flames. Willing the ground to swallow him whole at the prospect of appearing so inexperienced, and he was surprised at how much he cared.

“We have many people that come here just to talk,” You smiled, settling down into a kneel, “But you don’t seem like much of a talker.”

But that’s not why he was here, he thinks. The proposition had been offered to him, and Uzui had certainly never mentioned talking. “The perfect medicine!” He’d clapped him on the back as he’d led him towards the establishment, a haughty smile on his face. Sanemi was here to try and settle his temper, to blow off some steam. And yet here he still stood stoic in the doorway, silence hanging in the air.

“Well, if you don’t like to talk. Maybe you’d like to watch?” You offered up the option, as Sanemi froze.

What?

He was certain he wouldn’t make it from this room alive, spending years fighting demons only to be scuppered by a beguiling temptress like you. Positive Uzui had fed him to the wolves the moment he stepped through the doors to this establishment and pulled back the curtain.

Sanemi’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, a futile action when his throat was this dry, as he played back your offer in his head. The words echoed in his ear as he wondered how he was supposed to receive them, whether he needed to say yes or if you would be so kind as to show him exactly what you meant.

He’d never thought much of laying with a woman before. His line of work failed to offer much chance of finding a suitable wife and settling down, even though Uzui had managed to find three. More interested in ridding the world of the scourge of demons instead of cheap frills and frivolity. Sanemi’s only glimpses of breasts had been in onsens or walking through the Red light district. Enough to have his cock pulsing between his thighs as he fought the temptation, but nothing like how you made him feel standing in front of him right now.

“Uzui-sama had said to show you—”

“Can’t you just get on with it?” He cut you off, definitely a little harsher than intended. But it’s to be expected when he’s like a wild deer backed into a corner, as you mentioned the shepherd that had dragged him to the slaughter.

He was going to kill Uzui-sama when he got out of this, he scoffed, the man probably only attended the house to hear that honorific.

“Of course, Shinazugawa-sama.” You smiled, as Sanemi’s eyes now focused on your smaller hands teasing the opening of your kimono, his cock bucking under his pants at the same honorific, “So you can learn how to please a woman.”

Sanemi didn’t want a woman, he had no intention of pleasing anyone. And yet he found himself wondering on what it would be like to please you. Whether your eyes would roll, or your toes would curl. Thinking about the saccharine sigh of his name tumbling from your lips when he had you on the crux of your bliss. And then he began to wonder whether any man had ever pleased a woman inside these four walls, whether a man had ever pleased you—

“Is that even important?” He scoffed, lips coiled into a sneer as you sat back on your haunches.

“Well, it depends. I’m sure as long as you have a woman to lay with you’ll find your pleasure,” You smiled, finding no offence in his question, “But if you help her find her pleasure you’ll be far more satisfied.”

Sanemi felt the heat inside him start to burn as you pressed him to stay. Telling himself it was out of pure intrigue as he lowered his sword to the floor, his palm still clasped over it as he made his decision to stay.

You managed to get him to kneel, although he positioned himself with one foot on the ground. Knee bent as though he was preparing to flee the scene the moment this became too much.

“So you’re only here because of your friend?” You posed the question to him in an attempt to break the ice, though it was more than obvious to be true.

The hunched shoulders and flushed cheeks made it wholly apparent that this wasn’t one of his usual haunts. And that the Hashira felt extremely out of place—

Awkward.

“He seems to think I’m wound too tight,” Sanemi grunted, eyes focused on the way you languidly disrobed.

If he had the confidence he’d reach across the room and pull the haori down your shoulders himself, telling you to hurry up. He’d never witnessed someone take so long to disrobe, although he supposed this was some sort of show you were supposed to put on for the drunken men who frequented the establishment. So he held back, watching as the fabric finally pooled around you.

“So he brought you here to let off some steam.” You smile, beginning to work on the buttons at the front of your kimono.

“And what say you?” He sneered, “What do you think?”

“I’d say your job is difficult,” You whispered, slowly pulling back the front of your kimono to expose your naked breasts to his prying gaze.

Sanemi didn’t say anything, but you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Nostrils flaring as he exhaled softly as the fabric fell around you to join your haori.

“It’s no wonder you have so much rage inside.” You continue, hands delicate in your lap as you allow him to look at you, “It’s okay to let it out. To release some tension—”

You were right, Sanemi supposed. Although since being inside this building he somehow felt worse— the tension continuing to build inside his abdomen as his pelvis tightened uncomfortably, his heavy cock throbbing with desire as it pressed against the front of his uniform. Shifting his thighs as he tried to give himself some slight relief from the incessant throb, as you did little to satiate it when you began to tease your naked breasts.

“Are you a virgin, Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer.

“What’s it to you?” He mocked, “You’re just a common whore ready to spread her legs. It’s your job—”

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” You smile softly, finding no malice in his words. It was clear he was trying to deflect your question, as though the answer burned him to say, “I was certain you wanted to talk.”

You were worried you may have pushed him too much, that he would turn and flee the room and leave you naked and alone. Or worse— attack.

You’d had it happen before. Men who would enter the building of their own free will, before turning on you at the last moment. Hands wound tight around your neck as they blamed you for cheating on their wives, for making them do this. And it wasn’t just the men who had nothing else to lose; the ones that would spend their final gold on a night with a woman. These were respected members of society— samurai, business owners, and demon slayers. And perhaps that’s why every other woman had cowered in fear when the Wind Pillar had stepped through the door, because they expected nothing less from the ruthless Hashira.

But he looked vulnerable.

“If you don’t want to talk,” You continued to pull back the fabric of your kimono to expose your naked frame to his lilac eyes, the material cascaded down your body and onto the floor as you allowed him to drink in the sight of you. His eyes roamed your naked skin as they followed a path along your sternum, between the valley of your breasts until they settled on your chubby mound, “I’m certain there are other things we could do that would please you.”

Sanemi’s throat seized as he watched your hands reach up to mould against your round breasts, the skin dipping beneath your touch as you let out a soft, satisfied gasp. A sound that sent jolts of electricity surging through his veins. Enough to have his hands balling into tight fists that settled on top of his thighs as blunt nails dug into his palms, focused on the way your nipples hardened as you pinched and rolled them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You can touch me, you know,” You murmured, “I don’t mind.”

Sanemi swallowed thickly at the invitation. It was why he was here, after all. But somehow it felt daunting to reach out and close the gap, unsure where he should even start with you as he stayed stoic across the room.

You chanced scooting towards him across the wooden floor, settling yourself in front of him as you reached out to grasp one of his tightly closed fists. Gently prying his fingers open as he allowed you to contort his hand, splaying his fingers as you laced your fingers through his own, threading them together as your warmth engulfed him.

The action felt too intimate, which felt peculiar to say when he was sat opposite a half-naked stranger. And yet, he found himself not wanting to pull away. He leaned into your touch, his palm squeezing yours as you took it for reassurance, a soft smile on your face as he found himself beginning to relax.

“It’s okay,” You cooed, “We can just sit like this if you’d prefer.”

You were delighted when you felt the tense muscles in his hand begin to relax as his clenched jaw softened.

“Or we can tell your friend we did everything you wanted,” You continue with a laugh, “And that way it wouldn’t be a lie.”

And Sanemi wished he could put all his wants into words. The thoughts that now ran rampant through his mind as he breathed in the candied scent of you, feeling you lean closer to pepper gentle kisses to the side of his jaw. Tickling his skin against the growing stubble that left a shadow as you moved forward to place your hand flat against his muscular thigh.

“There wouldn’t be a need to lie.” Sanemi’s voice was rough like gravel as he tried desperately to wet his tongue, the roof of his mouth giving no appeasement as his Adam’s apple bobbed thickly.

“Oh?” You murmured, feeling no hint of him pulling away as you leaned back to face him. Your breath fanning his skin as you looked at him through thick, long lashes. Sultry eyes flickering towards his chapped lips before returning his gaze, “So what would you like us to tell him?”

“W-what?” Sanemi stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic.

“What is it you’d like to tell him?” You smiled softly, your hand slipping higher along his thigh, “What stories do you want to return with?”

And now Sanemi was certain this was the closest he’d come to death.

“Maybe I can suck your cock?” The words almost had him falling apart as he focused on every syllable, unused to someone speaking to him with such candour.

“Uh- yeah.” He felt the embarrassment begin to bloom inside him at his pathetic response as his eyes bore into your own.

You managed to get him on his back, chest heaving as you began to unfasten the belt around his hips. Watching the way his gut clenched in anticipation as you palmed him softly through the rough fabric, causing his hips to buck as he cursed beneath his breath.

“You feel big, Shinazugawa-sama.”

“Call me Sanemi.” He barked back gruffly, wanting to hear the sweet sound of his name leave your lips instead.

“Of course, Sanemi.” You cooed. Never making it to the futon as you straddled his thighs where he lay on the hardwood floor. Shrugging off the rest of your kimono to leave your body completely bare above him as he had to try to remember to breathe.

It was difficult to think when he noticed just how close your bare cunt was to his crotch, certain he could feel the warmth radiating from it against his thigh as you began to tug his pants down. Enough to free his aching cock as it drooped hard and heavy against his pelvis, long enough to follow the curve of his hip as the uncut tip leaked pearlescent beads of pre. Your stomach swirled at the sight of him, what he lacked in size he made up for in sheer girth. Thick, bulging veins forking along his girth as you imagined how he would feel buried inside you, the stretch as he fucked to into the shape of him. The thoughts had your neglected cunt throbbing around nothing as you felt warm slick begin to pool between your thighs.

“I was right— you are big.” You noted, wrapping a slender hand around him at the base as his hips jerked in surprise. Biting back a sharp hiss from between clenched teeth at the sensation as his palms instantly balled into fists at his sides.

“Is that what you say to every man that passes through here?” Sanemi spat, but he secretly hoped this wasn’t the case. He was filled with the incessant desire to impress you, to have you fawning over him. Even though none of this was real.

“No, actually,” You smiled, “I think it might actually hurt if you fuck me.”

Sanemi’s cock kicked with your blase tone, certain he was about to come undone from your words alone. But as if that weren’t enough, he felt himself choking back a grunt when you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his leaking tip. Licking your lips to taste his pre as you stared up at him from under thick lashes, “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Sanemi almost snorted at this. As though he wouldn’t be able to overpower you and push you off in an instant, you wouldn’t stand a chance—

“Oh, fuckin’ shit—” All conscious thoughts were ripped away from him the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock. Catching you by surprise as his hips jerked roughly, forcing more of his length inside your wet mouth as the heady tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat. The sudden motion caused you to gag as you pulled back to cough and splutter, and Sanemi felt downright depraved when he throbbed at the sight of you. Strings of spit mixed with his pre connected him to your mouth as he groaned, noticing the fat tears that now clumped in your lashes as he tried to remember to breathe, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“It’s okay,” You brushed him off with a smile, your warm palms stroked softly against his hairy thighs as he tried to calm his body down, “I actually liked it.”

You liked it? Gods, you were certain to be the death of him.

You took him into your mouth again as he fought back the urge to cant his hips forward, growling when your tongue began to trace the bulging veins along his length. Hollowing your cheeks as you began to gently bob your head along him as the hand wrapped around his base began to massage his heavy balls.

It was no wonder Uzui always seemed particularly cheery if this was what he got to experience at home. Sanemi’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he clenched them shut, positive that one look at you with your lips wrapped around him would have him coming undone in an instant.

“You can hold my head, show me what you like.” You murmured against the tip of his cock as you pulled back for air before swallowing him again. Coaxing him to touch you, to move you how he’d like to be treated, and Sanmei wondered why he should even bother when this already felt like heaven.

The whiny, desperate whine that vibrated around his cock the moment he held the back of your head in a large palm was his answer. Your throat instantly tightened around him as he swallowed back another debauched moan, tightening his grip as he began to help you bob your head along his cock. Careful not to hurt you as he pushed you down so the tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat with each downward motion, something that had him leaking even more pre as the salty taste dampened your tongue.

Sanemi could already feel his balls tightening in anticipation, your movements sending him closer to bliss as he used your mouth for his own pleasure.

There’s something about being the only person to see Shinazugawa Sanemi like this. A strong, powerful man who strikes fear into the hearts of many brought to his knees as you tower over him.

His cheeks blaze fiery red as the bloom spreads to the tips of his ears as you wrap his cock into a gentle fist, squeezing the base as he tries to stop his hips from canting forward pathetically. The noise that spills from his lips is more akin to an injured animal as he tries to stop himself from spilling his release so easily. But this is exactly what you do to him, the only person that can make him feel this way.

“Do something.” His tone is cold and brash, but there’s no real malice behind it as you have him as close to begging as you can.

Your fingers slip lower from his balls as you run your thumb along his taint, dipping into the sensitive skin as you have Sanemi’s hips bucking wildly as he catches you completely off guard as he cums with a depraved snarl. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spurt from his pulsing cock as you catch them in your mouth, coating your throat in his potent seed as his chest heaves from the intensity. His hand remains rough at the back of your head as he forgets his hold on you, keeping you pinned on his cock as he fills you with his release.

It’s only when you splutter that Sanemi realises his hold on you, pulling away as though he’s been burned as his lilac eyes stare down at you with worry. Watching you quiver as you cough and splutter again, as he sits up in an instant to cup your neck and assess if you’re okay.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” He rasps, his cock still half-hard and doused in your spit as it hangs between you. “I didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

And for the first time, it feels as though he’s let his walls down. The worry in his tone, paired with his wide eyes show you the concern that you hadn’t expected from the harsh Wind Pillar when he’d first entered the room, and yet here he was offering you more kindness and compassion than a lot of your previous visitors.

Your throat burns, but you answer him by parting your lips and lolling your tongue out so he can see that you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he’d given you. An action that already has his cock stirring for more attention as Sanemi bites back the harsh groan that threatens to rumble deep in his chest at the sight of you.

You really had no idea that you’d be the complete undoing of him, he supposed as he allowed his thumb to brush against your soft cheek. Smiling when you leaned into his touch, still settled between his thighs.

He decided at that moment he’d quite like to kiss you. Uncertain if that was even something people did in these establishments, whether you’d even allow him to. Wondering if you’d ever wanted to kiss any of the men you’d spent time with working here, whether you’d even want to kiss him. Remembering that this was probably nothing more than a job to you, another way to pay off your debts and get yourself out.

He’d get you out if he could. Spare you from all the disgusting, rowdy creeps that you have to deal with daily and protect you from the horrors of this world.

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head to the side as Sanemi was brought back from his thoughts.

“Weren’t you gonna show me how to please a woman?” He ignored your question as his chapped lips brushed against the curve of your jaw.

“Oh,” Your cheeks flushed with a delicate flourish as warmth bloomed across your skin, “Oh, yeah.”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d even be able to handle his touch on your skin. Your cunt already throbbing wanton and desperate with need as your slick began to soak your inner thighs, positive no one else had made you feel like this before.

Reaching out to wrap your smaller palm around his wrist as he allowed you to move it how you pleased, lifting it to move it to settle against one of your soft breasts.

“Oh,” You heaved a sigh as your fingers stayed wrapped around his wrist as Sanemi began to clench his fingers, barely a squeeze as though he was worried about hurting you as you coaxed him for more, “That feels good.”

The words seemed to encourage him as he began to massage the soft skin, calloused fingers grazing against your sensitive nipples that had you crying out for him. Pleased when he took the initiative to give your other breast the same attention, your cheeks flushed as he stared shamelessly at your exposed skin.

Reaching down you circled a hand around his thick wrist, raising his hand as you placed his calloused palm against your warm breast. Thick lashes fluttered on impact as you looked down at the way he encompassed it, fingers barely flexing as he noticed the way his hand circled it. You ground your hips against him, his semi-hard cock poking into the swell of your ass as you remained seated on his abdomen. The motion pressed you harder against his hand as he began to clench his fingers, squeezing the supple skin as a breathy whine escaped your lips.

Sanemi hadn’t seen many breasts, but he was certain that you were the prettiest by far. Gaining more confidence as he started to squeeze at the soft skin, his thumb grazing over one of your hardening nipples as it stiffened to a taut peak. Biting down on glossy lips you watched him focused and intent, giving the same attention to the other side as he began to palm them both.

Sanemi inhaled softly when your fingers began to busy themselves with the fastenings of his shirt, spreading what little was left to push it off his shoulders along with his haori. Your eyes trailed over each raised scar that marred his perfect skin, fingertips delicately brushing over each line of rough skin and puckered flesh. Giving the same amount of attention to each one, knowing that they all held their own story. Spending slightly longer on the long ones that crossed against the front of his chest, dangerously close to his heart as your palm stopped against his sternum to feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Sanemi had never found his scars repulsive, but for some reason beneath your gaze, he felt self-conscious. Worried that you may find him hideous and cower away from him like most others did. Others, whose opinions he didn’t care about, but yours?

“I know they appear ugly.”

“They’re not ugly,” You hum softly, “I’m just sorry you had to go through the pain to receive them.”

Some scars run deeper, ones that don’t mark and marr his skin. The ones that permeate through to his heart, twisting and contorting as they sear into him hotter than any flame. Demons that keep him awake at night as he’s forced to relive the moments he’s received them, times that he’s faced certain death— and perhaps he deserved it. The pain of receiving them was often forgotten by Sanemi. The hurt and damage from each scar would never equate to the feeling of seeing his loved ones slain, from losing his family.

“But each one tells a story,” You continued, smiling softly. Fingertips stroking over the raised scars there, following the damaged skin as you mapped out every curve and ridge. “Each one holds a reason as to why you’re still here.”

Sanemi had never had someone touch him like this before, he’d never been handled with such care. It was at that moment that Sanemi decided he didn’t want you with anyone else, that you were his and only his.

“We all have scars, but some we try to hide more than others.” You hummed.

Fuck it. He thought as he reached around your neck to pull you into a fierce kiss, catching you off guard. His teeth clashed against your soft lips as he fought to deepen in, inexperience shining through his actions as his nose bumped yours roughly. His movements were sloppy and unpractised as he was far too chaste; too eager. Your lips follow along with his to try and guide him, your tongue teasingly laps at the corner of his lips and he does little to stop you. Trying to anticipate your movements as his lips fall open, granting you entrance as you smile against him.

Your fingers splay against his jaw, holding him steady to help slow him down. Moving your lips with purpose as your tongue brushed past his parted ones, delving into his mouth as you swallowed the moans that vibrated at the back of Sanemi’s throat. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss as you felt his arms encircle you to pull you closer, tightening his grip on you as if no matter how close you were it would never be enough.

His still half-hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you shamelessly roll your hips, pressing your lower half against it for some sweet relief as your cunt virtually burned with neglect. You’d never felt so on edge as you were tempted to reach down and press two fingers to your puffy clit to give yourself some respite. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the perceptive Hashira who broke the kiss to stare between your bodies.

Sanemi’s fingers were warm as they brushed through your messy folds, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his knuckle graze your clit. A whiny, breathless sigh warmed his skin when he felt your tight hole begin to catch against the calloused pad of his finger.

How were you this fucking wet already and he’d barely touched you? Was this all for him?

“Please,” You murmured. Sanemi felt you roll your hips against his hand, as though you were trying to drop yourself down on his finger, eager for stimulation. Granting your wish as he slipped a solo finger inside you, baulking when he felt how warm, wet and tight you were.

Sanemi wasn’t foolish, he knew about sex. But he just had no idea that this is what you looked like down there, what you felt like. How was he supposed to fit his cock inside here when you were this tight? Surely he’d split you in two.

The moan that left your lips was debauched, and the sound surged directly to his cock. Swallowing thickly as he pressed forward again, letting the calloused pad of his finger press against your velvety walls. Trying to draw another noise like that from your throat.

Sanemi was gentle and precise compared to the other men that frequented the establishment, so used to your pleasure being unimportant as they were quick to push into you with little care or decency. Fulfilling their own needs and leaving you a crumpled, fragile mess after with comments on how thankful you should be that they were helping to pay off your debt. Glad that most men that you encountered seemed to only want comfort, a warm body to lay beside so they could fool themselves for a moment that they mattered to someone.

“Is this okay?” His voice was laced with uncertainty, his finger plunging into your tight sex as he grazed your ridged walls.

“Curl it,” You murmured, breaking off into a high-pitched gasp when he brushed against the sensitive spot inside you. Your reaction was an indication he’d found what he’d been searching for as he focused his movements against it. Deft and precise as Sanemi began to pump the lone finger in and out of you, lilac eyes focused on the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Yeah?” He hummed in satisfaction, “You like that?”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you found yourself rolling your hips in tandem with him, moving one of your hands from his shoulders to slip between your bodies to join his as you pressed slow, precise circles against your needy clit.

“What are you doing?” His voice turned to a deep snarl, brows furrowed as he watched you touch yourself in front of him.

“Touching my clit.” You gasped as he knocked your hand away roughly, moving his thumb to press blindly against your slit to replace it.

“I’ll do it,” He growled, the authoritative lilt to his tone had you trembling as he made rough strokes in an attempt to find your sensitive nub, “There?”

He questioned as he rubbed the junction of your labia, pressing against your folds as you tried to lift your hips to position his hand.

“No,” You murmured, holding his wrist before moving your slender fingers towards his thumb to press the pad of it flat against your clit. Whining on contact as his touch felt instantly better than your own, “Here— can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in as he began to press tough, persistent circles against it while curling his finger inside you.

“Add another finger, please?” You begged, moving your hands back to his broad shoulders to support yourself as you continued to match his movements.

“Yeah?” He murmured, pressing both fingers against the spongy spot inside you as he began to thrust them languidly, tilting his head back to stop you from shying away from his gaze as he watched your face morph into pleasure, “You like that?”

“So good,” You affirmed, feeling the coil inside you start to wind and tighten as Sanemi focused on your pleasure. Certain your cunt was drooling into his open palm as he followed your movements, pressing deeper each time you tried to roll your hips, “I’m close.”

“Then cum.” His voice commanded, his tone curt and domineering as you found yourself succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to spill over. Your cunt clenched desperately around his digits as you came with a choked gargle of his name, white spots blanking your vision as your entire body convulsed. Sanemi’s other hand splayed flat at the arch of your back to stop you from toppling backwards as he continued to press messy circles into your throbbing clit, prolonging the sensation, “Good girl.” The words had you throbbing as he helped you ride out your bliss.

“I—” You panted, at a loss for words as your nails dug into the delicate skin on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons in their wake that Sanemi hoped would scar.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” Sanemi grunted, and you had to rip his hand away from your poor sex when the sensation became too much. Already feeling him forcing you towards another—

“You shouldn’t be so good at that, Shinazugawa-sama.” You groaned in satisfaction, pulling back as you noticed his cock practically leaking against his chest from the sight of you. Leaving silvery lines of pre against his skin as he sat hard and ready for you.

“What did I say to call me?” He rasped.

“Sanemi,” You breathed, and the Wind Pillar was certain he would never tire of hearing his name flow from your lips.

Was it normal to fall in love the first night with someone? With a courtesan no less. Sanemi wondered how many men had stepped through the doors of this house with the same question, returning to spend the night with a woman who was only interested in how deep their pockets were. But it somehow felt different with you— the look in your eyes made it feel like it was something more than just a transaction. And well, if it wasn’t Sanemi was positive he’d give every last penny he owned for one more night with you.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” You smiled gently, hoping that he wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing as you yearned for him, wanting to feel him stretch you out in the most intoxicating way.

You were certain it was going to hurt judging from the sheer mass that was now resting between your thighs, thick and heady. Feeling the tip almost graze your belly button as you imagined just how deep he would be inside of you. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation as he began to stroke the fat tip of his cock between your messy folds. Feeling them part for him as he nudged against your sensitive clit, making you cry out for him as he repeated the motion.

“Why would I stop?” He bit back, “You’re getting paid aren’t you?”

He hated himself for the words that left his lips, the regret evident on his features the moment he’d uttered them. But it was what he did. Pushing people away before they got too close, before he let them in—

“I’m sorry,” He murmured apologetically, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off with a small smile, used to hearing far worse as you smoothed a hand through the light hairs that scarred against his chest, “Are you ready?”

And Sanemi was certain he’d never been more prepared for anything in his life, his palms still planted firmly against your hips as he watched you reach down to wrap your palm around his drooling cock.

Holding it upright as you leaned forward to adjust yourself so the building tip was pressed against your right entrance. His fingers were no match for the stretch of the engorged tip as you slowly began to coax him inside. The first inch was painful, a delicious ache swirling in your abdomen as you tried to relax. Inhaling deeply as you gave an experimental roll of your hips, forcing another inch inside as you began to feel the stretch. The protruding veins that forked along his girth did nothing to ease the tension as you could practically feel them throb against your inner walls as you sank lower onto him.

Sanemi wasn’t fairing much better, his pupils blown as he was certain he could see every shade of colour. His grip against your hips bruising now as he tried to think of anything but the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him for the first time. He was barely halfway inside, and now he was positive he wouldn’t last by the time you made it to the base— his balls already drawn up and heavy as he imagined emptying his seed into your ripe cunt.

You were so fucking warm, and drenched. It was making it difficult to think as your slick left creamy rings around the girth of his cock, drooling down to his balls as you soaked his skin. Sanemi found himself becoming lightheaded, blindly pawing for your waist to centre himself. The back of his head knocked against the wooden floor as he readjusted his hips, giving you a few more inches as you moaned at the sensation. Catching yourself with soft palms against his chest as you rolled down into his touch, his stiff cock almost wholly inside you as you felt the messy hairs that sat at his base tickle your clit.

You still for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. But it feels like a moment too long for Sanemi, a moment that drives him closer to the desperate release his body already craves. His hefty balls are already tight and pulsing as they threaten to spill into your eager hole.

It’s as though you notice when you start to roll your hips above him. But Sanemi reckons this is worse— your tits sway with your alluring movement, the cool air in the room hits his cock when you rise your hips to pull off him before seating yourself back down and he’s certain you’ll be the death of him. That Uzui will find the shattered remains of his body in this very room as he dies buried deep inside your molten cunt. How had he managed to continue life for so long without feeling this? It’s now the only pleasure he ever wants to indulge in as he watches you intently through blown eyes.

“Are you okay?” You hum with a teasing swirl of your hips and Sanemi has to wet his lips to reply. His tongue rolls over white teeth before clearing his throat, a heavy rumble in his chest as calloused fingers dip into the fat at your hips.

“‘m fine,” It’s all he can muster. Certain if he says more it’ll be over, and Sanemi doesn’t want this to be over, “Fuckin’ tight.”

“You feel so good,” You offer in return, “Stretching me so much—”

And Sanemi isn’t sure he even wants to hear it. Uncertain whether it’s because you have his cock pulsing from your sultry tone that leaves him shaking on the crux of his climax, or that he thinks you’re lying. Another deceitful line you give to all your paying customers.

“Shinazugawa-sama.” You breathe and Sanemi feels his Adam’s apple throb in his throat.

“Sanemi,” He growls, low and domineering, “I said call me Sanemi.”

“Sanemi.” You parrot, and the sound of it has his hips jerking sloppily as he fucks up into you, his name now sounded from your lips like a dull mantra, “Sanemi.”

Your hands are splayed across his chest as you try to keep your movements consistent, hips rolling against him as you ride his cock. Trying to commit the sight to memory as your eyes follow every line and scar that settles across his skin, soft fingertips following them as you ride him. An indication of just how powerful the man beneath you is, the man you’ve brought to his knees.

“Oh, fuck.” You sound out, and Sanemi thinks it’s cute the sound of such a vulgar word spilling from your sweet lips.

And Sanemi wants to make you make more sounds like that, to pull every one from your pretty throat and commit each one to memory. Remembering every saccharine lilt and coo as though he’s conducting his own debauched symphony. Sounds that will comfort him when he thinks of you, of this. He moves his hand from your hip, pressing a thumb against your pelvis before dipping lower. Stroking his digits through your messy slit, and when he touches your clit your body convulses. Hips bucking so wildly on contact his eyes are wide as though he’s done something wrong. Taking his hand to press his fingers back against it as you coax him into touching you there again.

Hunching over him as you try to keep your pace, your movements borderline pathetic as you chase the pleasure of his calloused thumb against your sensitive bud. His eyes watch you curiously as he speeds up the sloppy figure of eights he presses into it, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him in response.

“This is supposed to be for you.” You choke out, unused to your clients even thinking about your pleasure.

“Who says it’s not?” Sanemi scoffs; the sight of you like this is worth every damn penny Uzui is paying, “I want you to come undone for me.”

The dominant, commanding husk to his voice has your pelvis contorting as your body wills itself to unravel on command. Barely able to cry out his name as you find your release, your silky walls clamp down around his cock as they desperately try to milk him of his release. Your nails dig into muscular pectorals as you try to keep yourself upright, to hold onto the single thread of sanity you have left.

But Sanemi’s thumb doesn’t stop against your clit, following your jerky movements as your hips coil and spasm. Keeping his touch firm and persistent as he helps you ride out one climax to have you soaring towards another.

It’s too much, and you’re not sure you can handle it as your hands slip down to wrap around his wrist. Feebly trying to pull his grip away from your sloppy cunt as you watch the muscles in his arm tighten, veins popping out proudly as they fork towards his wrist. Practically snarling as he easily fights your weaker grip, “Don’t.”

And once again he throws you into ecstasy, your body trembling as another intense orgasm surges through your veins. Soaking his cock with your essence as you feel how wet and sloppy you are between your thighs, any friction dissipating as it’s all you can do but pathetically grind yourself against his finger while you ride out your bliss.

“Sanemi,” You whine, unable to hold yourself upright as you feel yourself falling forward onto his chest. Your face nuzzled into the junction of his neck as you trap his muscular arm between your bodies, his thumb still at your overstimulated clit as he gives it a few more lingering swipes, “S��too much.”

And Sanemi has to agree. It’s far too much, but also not enough at the same time. His cock throbs at the feeling of your drenched walls soaking him, fluttering in the aftershocks of your release as he’s certain he’s on the cusp of his own end. Slipping his arm from between your bodies in ease in favour of wrapping both arms around you, pinning you against his chest as he bends both his legs at the knee. Planting his feet on the hardwood floor for stability as he holds you against him.

He catches you by surprise as he begins to thrust up into you. His movements are chaotic and messy, with a deep-set sense of urgency as he chases his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixes with the syrupy wetness of your cunt that has your cheeks burning fiery red as you pant and whine against his neck. Mouthing at the thin layer of sweat that sticks to his skin, the salty taste of it mitigating on your tongue as you let him use you for his pleasure.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” Your voice sings out against the column of his throat and his hips give one more rugged jolt as he buries himself inside you to the hilt and coats your inner walls with balmy spurts of cum. The sensation causes heat to plume inside you as you indulge in the sensation as he gives a few more careless thrusts like he’s unable to stop his hips from jerking as he gives you everything he’s got left to give.

Sanemi’s eyes are blown wide, staring up at the ceiling as you move with the rise and fall of his chest. His arms still wound so tightly around you that you’re unable to move, left to bask in the warm afterglow as you cling to him. One of your hands braced against his sternum, feeling for the cadence of his racing heart.

“Are you okay?” You murmur softly when he hasn’t spoken for a while, and you’re met with a delicate kiss to your temple as he tightens his grip.

You’re certain you lay there for hours after, his warmth engulfing you as he traces gentle patterns against the expanse of your back while your fingers cord through his messy hair. Nails grazing against his skin while you feel the pleasure rumble deep in his chest, eyes heavy as sleep threatens to consume you. You shift above him slightly and whine pathetically as you feel his soft cock finally slip from your sloppy hole, the wetness unable to maintain a grip on him as you shudder at the cold air in the room cooling your molten cunt. His thick, potent seed begins to drip from your cunt into thick puddles on his pelvis and onto the floor as his arms tighten possessively around you for the smallest hint of a moment. As though he’d tricked himself into thinking that you were actually his, before realising his foolish mistake.

“I should go.” His voice rumbles, firm and authoritative. A sound that has you moving off him, despite your body’s plea to stay like this just a while longer.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Shinazugawa-sama.” You respond, watching as he begins to redress himself. Tucking his cock, still glazed with your drying slick, back into his pants.

You’d hoped he would correct you a final time. Telling you to call him by name as he buttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before tugging his haori back on, but the words don’t come.

You wonder whether it’s because he’s unsure what to say, lingering by the door as though he wants to turn back to give you a proper goodbye. Reaching down to grab your kimono to pull it back over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispers before tugging at the door.

You were hoping it would feel a little less transactional, even though you were certain that this was all it was to him. A coldness now resides in the room that you’re certain you’d never felt before, an uncertain frost that bites away at the fierce burn of your heart. You have to remind yourself of the reason why you’re here, the reason why the Wind Hashira had chosen to lay with you.

The next morning you were surprised to find out just how much Sanemi had left behind that evening. Certain the payment was more than enough to settle your debts and free you from this existence, as you felt the fog of uncertainty that shrouded your time here begin to clear.

You’d hoped that he would’ve left some way to thank him, a forwarding address or at least a note to accompany the payment. But what you didn’t expect was for the Wind Pillar to be waiting at the dark purple curtains for you as you came down the stairs.

#sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #kny x reader #kny smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut

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starlostseungmin · 8 months ago

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husband!seungmin

✰ notes: my brain is not working properly and idk if i could write any lengthy fics as of the moment but here’s husband seungmin because i’m bored and i love our puppy so much. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

（ seungmin ）chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Seungmin who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle with a big smile on his face thinking that he’s the luckiest man on earth to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the priest to finally announce you as husband and wife then kisses you in front of your friends and family.

Husband Seungmin whose love language is act of service and words of affirmation with a little bit of gift-giving.

Husband Seungmin who is still shy about engaging in physical touch. But when he does, he gets really clingy and refuses to let you go. You never complain. He also loves looking at you dreamingly while you sleepーwhispering how much he loves you and kisses your forehead before going to sleep, hugging you tightly.

Husband Seungmin who cooks every morning before going to workーsometimes at nightーand holds your hand while brewing coffee as he steals kisses whenever you aren’t looking.

Husband Seungmin who would take the day off from work just to stay home and take care of you when you’re sick. He won’t allow you to move and insist that he’ll do everything you ask for.

Husband Seungmin who gets a bit possessive when someone who seems interested in you makes a conversation so he’d kiss your lips out of the blue and say, “We’re married.” then show off your wedding rings.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t pressure you to have kids with him since he respects whatever decision you make. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long as the two of you are together, that’s enough for him.

Husband Seungmin who is still feeling nervous when he asks you out on a date. It would always feel like the first timeーhis heart racing, cheeks red as a tomato, the giddiness and sparks, everything goes in slow-motion. He would take you to your favorite places and have the best time.

Husband Seungmin who loves tea time and is literally serving you hot gossip from workーlaughing at how everyone was so dumb and problematic in the industry.

Husband Seungmin who used to prefer texts over calls but now he tends to call you often because he misses you. He would also wait for you to hang up first.

Husband Seungmin who would hug you tightly while kissing the crown of your head and whisper words that might comfort you when you’re breaking down and vulnerable in front of him. He would refuse to leave until you feel better.

Husband Seungmin who makes weird noises and funny faces just to make you laugh.

Husband Seungmin who acts like a puppy when he wants to be babied and asks for a kiss.

Husband Seungmin who treats you like royalty.

Husband Seungmin who gets over the moon when you surprise him with lots of (useful) Sanrio-related gifts. Mostly Pochacco and Pompompurin with a little bit of Cinnamon Roll.

Husband Seungmin who loves to take A LOT of pictures of you with his phone or camera. You’d complain (playfully) about his storage getting full but he doesn’t mind because you are his muse.

Husband Seungmin who brings you flowers on random days because they remind him of you.

Husband Seungmin who kisses your lips intimately because he wants to. It could happen multiple times a day which could lead to something moreーmost of the time.

Husband Seungmin who would walk away after an argument and come back hours later to apologize.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t want you to see him cry but gives in when you hug him.

Husband Seungmin who gets brutally honest, cries over silly things, and does his little twerk when drunk but still cute as hell.

Husband Seungmin who always scores 98-100 on coin karaoke and gets cocky. He knows you love listening to him when he sings and gladly does the favor when you ask him to—wherever, whenever.

Husband Seungmin who is always good at everything.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t say “I love you,” most of the time but expresses it in different ways or says it with the things he feels about you.

Husband Seungmin whose smile is the most precious in the world. You promised not to take it away and never make him cry.

Husband Seungmin who loves you so much, makes you happy, never fails to make your heart beat, makes you feel loved and accepts you no matter what your flaws are.

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

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ellecdc · 8 months ago

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okay but….

what about an angsty/fluffy fic for poly!maruaders + lily x reader. like the reader gets overwhelmed to she leaves when their hanging out or something and the marauders + lily get terrified that they did something wrong 😔 but they comfort her and make sure shes okay! 🫶🏻

aawwwweeeeee

marauders + lily x fem!reader when things become too much for her

CW: brief panic/panic attack, healthy coping skills though, hurt with comfort, also run on sentences used as a tool to portray panic - the gif I made uses artwork by @/upthehillart

You had to admit that the combined bravery of four Gryffindors could, at times, be contagious.

One example of having contracted momentary bouts of boldness was when Remus, Lily, James, and Sirius convinced you that Marlene’s birthday party was going to be ‘a lot of fun’.

And between James’ excitement, Sirius’ cocky confident smirk, Lily’s hopeful smile, and Remus’ reassuring eyes, you believed them.

And it had been fun; at least getting ready with Lily in the boys dorm room as they all wolf whistled and showered you with compliments every time you pulled a brush through your hair or tried on a new top.

It had even been fun when you got downstairs and watched James, Sirius, and Lily dance their hearts out from your place curled up on Remus’ lap.

But then….

But then there were far more dancers on the floor. And then James came over, begging you and Remus to join them on the floor to which you staunchly refused but insisted Remus didn’t need to sit here on your behalf. And then everyone came back to the sofas but so did Marlene and Mary and Dorcas and Peter and Benjy and Gideon and Fabian and Emmeline and Amelia and Frank and Alice. And then they started a game of Truth or Dare during which they mercifully allowed you to fade into the background, but then you quickly became horribly embarrassed that they were handling you with kid gloves. And then you became embarrassed that you had to be handled with kid gloves. And then a conversation started about the hottest people at Hogwarts and Sirius began bragging that he was dating most of them, shooting you a salacious wink as he pulled Lily tight into his side. And then James joined in to say the group of you were five tens which basically made you 500’s and then Peter had to tell James that he wasn’t doing the maths properly and then you felt like the noise of everyone’s voices talking over each other was a physical presence in the room that was slowly closing in around you and you could feel everyone looking at you and those who weren’t looking at you were definitely thinking about you and it was too much, too much, too much.

So, as James had Peter in a headlock and Lily was on Remus’ lap and Sirius was standing behind the chair that Remus and Lily were currently occupying, leaning forward on his elbows as he cheered James on, you snuck through the portrait hole and rushed down the halls of the ancient castle to look for a hiding spot to completely break down.

Sirius felt his blood run cold when he looked up only to see you missing from your seat.

Damn it. He knew; he knew he should have been sitting with you.

Remus had told him and James to keep an eye on you, which was Remus-talk for “don’t overwhelm her, you sods”, so he refrained.

But now you were gone and it was probably his fault.

He quickly tapped Remus’ shoulder as he moved to haul James off of Peter (who never even thanked Sirius for his service, mind you) and made for the portrait hole.

“What the hells, Pads!?” James pouted petulantly. “I was winning!”

“I don’t know where our girl went.” He stated, ignoring James’ protest as he looked up and down the hall outside of the Gryffindor common room.

“Well here’s one.” James offered as Lily stepped through the portrait hole, quickly followed by Remus.

“What’s going on?” Lily asked.

“Where’s dovey?” Remus added severely, moving down the hall as if following her trail.

“I don’t know.” Sirius admitted; his voice falling far more vulnerable than his usual boastful and arrogant affectation.

James quickly moved over and pulled Sirius into his side. “I think it was my fault.” He whispered miserably.

“No Pads.” James reassured. “I was being too much.”

“I shouldn’t have made her feel pressured to come.” Remus said with a sigh.

“We shouldn’t have drawn attention to her.” Lily mused as she chewed on her cuticles. “Oh god, what if this was too much? What if we’re too much? What if this is what makes her decide she can’t handle us?”

“Whoa, whoa.” James interjected, pulling Lily’s hand away from her mouth. “How about we start with finding her, yeah?”

Lily and the boys were in agreement as they began their search of the castle.

You felt ridiculously childish sitting on the cold stone floor hugging your knees to your chest as tears fell silently in some random alcove on the fourth floor of Gryffindor tower.

What were they thinking, being with someone as pathetic as you? This would do it, certainly; this is what would make them realise you weren’t worth their time. You couldn’t even sit through one sodding party for their sakes.

You were such a fraud, agreeing to participate in a relationship you had no business in; silly, foolish, selfish.

They were all going to know it.

You were spiralling, that much was clear. You knew you tended to get like this when things became too much.

“Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, Y/N.” You sighed to yourself, closing your eyes as you tried to take some steadying breaths.

Your breathing exercises were interrupted when you heard hurried footsteps making their way towards you.

“Y/N?” Sirius called out quietly; though he may as well have screamed at you with the way your heart sped up and your breathing became erratic, eliciting a fresh stream of tears to start cascading down your face.

“Hey, hey babydoll.” He cooed at you as he knelt beside you; the others appearing behind him with matching looks of concern. “You’re alright baby, you’re okay. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

You let out a choked sob and shook your head quickly, causing Sirius to turn behind him in search of help.

“Here, angel.” James said, taking Sirius’ spot and pulling you into his lap before wrapping his strong arms around you and squeezing. “But you have to take some big breaths for me, okay? Can we do them together?”

You worked hard to try to emulate the dramatic breaths James was taking for your benefit; and though yours were far shallower and much more shaky, he showered you with praises at every exhale.

“What happened, darling?” Lily asked cautiously as she knelt in front of you and James, taking a moment to push some of your hair away from your face.

“Too much.” You admitted through a hiccup, keeping your answer short lest your breathing become erratic again.

“Were we too much?” Sirius asked, his voice timid and his face vulnerable; you hated it.

You hated it even more knowing that you were the one to put it there.

“I’m not good enough.” You blurted; voice uncharacteristically high as you spoke through an ever present lump in your throat. “I can’t be-be brave like you, I…I can’t. I tried but I- I can’t. And I’m not good enough; I’m no good for you.”

“Well that’s enough of that.” Remus decided; words strict but tone soft. “I like to think I’m able to decide what’s ‘good enough’ for me, and I’ve decided that’s you.”

“Yeah, and Moony’s the smartest out of all of us, so I trust his judgement.” James teased gently, wiggling his arms around you in an attempt to get you to smile.

“Well I take offence to that.” Lily responded as she looked at James wryly.

“Second smartest.” Remus corrected; nudging Lily with his foot.

“Now that may not say much about them, though.” Sirius continued, his voice taking on the tone alerting you to his particular brand of teasing. “I mean, they do willingly put up with me and Prongs.”

James scoffed in faux offence as Lily and Remus chuckled.

“If we can put up with these two,” Lily said as she dramatically motioned towards her two boyfriends with her head. “Then you’re a breeze, my love.”

You let out a sigh and burrowed your face into James’ neck who was all too happy to snuggle you closer.

“What upset you, dolly?” Sirius asked gently.

“It was just…”

“A lot?” Remus offered, causing you to nod.

“Anything we could have done to make it less…much?” Sirius offered again.

You left your sanctuary in James’ neck to look up at the long-haired boy before offering him your hand.

As if he’d only been waiting for the offer, he quickly fell to his knees beside you and pulled your hand into his chest with both of his.

“I don’t want any of you to be less.” You whispered.

James let out an awe as he snuggled you closer and Sirius pressed a small kiss to your knuckles.

“I didn’t mean to make you all leave your friend’s party.” You admitted shamefully. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to stay here with me; I can just go to bed.”

James made a protesting sound as Sirius scoffed and Remus shook his head with a fond smile.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we are exactly where we want to be, darling.” Lily offered with a wink.

You had to admit that you were, too.

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oediex · 20 days ago

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(Languages taken from the top 10 foreign languages learned on Duolingo in 2024.)

I would like to bring your attention to two fundraisers that are near and dear to my heart.

@elhamhamdan-gaza is a young woman trying to survive in Gaza with her family. She was a top student at university until October 2023, when she and her family were displaced from their home in Khan Younis and forced to flee to Rafah. After the invasion in Rafah, they returned to their home in Khan Younis only to find it burned. They had no choice but to live in it. Elham and her family desperately need funds for blankets and clothes, because winter is here and nights in Gaza are very cold right now.

Elham's campaign is very low on funds! So far they have only been able to raise £594 and they desperately need more support. Please donate to them if you are able, and share this post and campaign with as many people as you can.

This campaign was verified by the Butterfly Effect Project (instagram) and is number 1180 on their spreadsheet, which you can access through the link on their instagram profile.

You can contribute to Elham's campaign by clicking on the link below:

Secondly, @drdarine is a young woman who is a medical student in Gaza. Despite being displaced and suffering hardships we can only imagine, Darine is continuing her studies and helping out others in the refugee camps and shelters in southern Gaza. Her family consists of seven people, one of them being my friend @dawoudi who is selflessly and unfailingly helping many other families in Gaza by verifying their fundraisers and promoting them on Tumblr. Everyday I see more campaigns added that he has verified, providing an important service to the many families in Gaza that need our help.

Darine's family has been fundraising since February, which is almost ten months! Despite that, they have only been able to raise $5,765, 19% of their goal. Progress on their campaign is extremely slow, often needing to wait multiple days for another donation to come in. We can do better than that.

This campaign was vetted by @gazavetters, and is number 15 on their spreadsheet, which you can find in the pinned post on their profile.

You can contribute to Darine's campaign by clicking on the link below:

Please support these fundraisers! Thank you!

Tagging for reach, let me know if you want me not to tag you in the future

@commissions4aid-international @funds4gaza @a-shade-of-blue @dlxxv-vetted-donations @kyra45-helping-others

@northgazaupdates2 @bilal-salah0 @imjustheretotrytohelp @devilofthepit @ankle-beez

@lukewarm-lesbian @wellwaterhysteria @appsa @qattdraws @laughteronsilverwings

@felixander-official @nabulsi @mukkie @oursapphirestars @fruitwoodmac

@comrademango @sunflowersmoths @mindchalice @battleteacake @girlinafairytale

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sixosix · 1 year ago

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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.”

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space?

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of.

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up.

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney fanfiction

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