#the reason my pulse races when I watch person of interest

[poi-rinch-lover]

Absolutely obsessed with this man and his impeccably sexy suits 🔥🔥

[shotmrmiller]

extension to this

simon sits inside the vehicle he's rented right outside a quaint, little coffee shop. your last letter sits, folded and crinkled in his breast pocket, the very reason why he's even here.

there's nothing much to say to you, pen acquaintance. the semester's over in a week, which means that this will be the last you hear of me. i'd wish you luck in whatever task your superior assigns you, but i don't want to. adieu, british man. i won't miss your piss-poor humor and doctor's scribble. p.s. my eyes are permanently crossed from having to decipher every letter of yours.

unacceptable.

he pulls back his sleeve, looking down at the scuffed sports watch that adorns his inked wrist. 10:35 a.m. simon steps out of the car hastily, not even bothering to lock it. the chilly breeze nips at the tips of his ears as he jogs to the cafe door and holds it open.

for you.

"after you, love." his mancunian accent thicker than normal on his tongue. how pretty you are in person, almost a dream come true. you turn to thank him, and he watches your captivating eyes zero in on the glinting metal of his dog tags resting on the breadth of his chest. how quickly your grateful smile sours. he suddenly feels too hot, vision tunneling to your set brow and hardened gaze.

"right. thanks."

with a quick pace, you pass him by, your bag bumping into his thigh, yet you don't bother to look back. so brilliantly unapologetic. his pulse races as excitement thrums through his veins. simon is quick to follow, coming to stand directly behind you and your group of friends with his clenched hands in his pockets, pretending to read the drink menu above your head.

when you order, he grimaces behind his medical mask. all these endless choices for coffee, yet you choose to drink some blended ice mistake, with far too much whipped cream and imitation chocolate syrup poured on top. simon'll teach you to drink tea— preferably back in england where the leaves grow best.

he steps forward, around the vultures that surround you, and tells the barista that he'll pay for your drink. "just hers?" he asks.

"tha's wha' i said, innit?"

simon extends his hand to the barista, plastic between your fingers when you call out to him. "hey."

a mischievous grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he turns to meet your gaze, unable to contain his amusement.

"what about my friends?" his dark eyes cut to their direction, before wandering back to you.

"wha' about 'em?" he goads.

he can practically see smoke furling from your mouth, a miasma of fury; tastes it in the air— a blend of salt and fire.

there you are. vicious little spitfire.

simon lets you bubble with indignation for a brief moment until he shifts his attention back to the person behind the counter, who's been watching the exchange with mild interest. "theirs too, then. since she asked me so nicely."

his chest rumbles with laughter upon hearing your irked hiss at his comment.

[bonny-kookoo]

I have transcended here, so follow my vision:

Jungkook is always taunting the hybe staff that monitors his lives right? What about a fic where he does this because he kinda likes the pretty new IT intern 👉👈 and she is always stressed out working the night shift and wondering is he asleep yet should I end the live? oh no is he about to give a major spoiler, he would not do it right? workout sounds are kinda suspicious and low-key obscene should I "accidentally" end the live?

Hm... warning for like.. jungkook flirting? And suggestive themes lol

Your heart beats faster whenever you get the notification. But not because of the same reasons the fans pulses might race quicker.

No, you personally get palpitations because of him, personally.

You don't even know why he's bitten into you like a stubborn dog like this, not daring to let go, teeth buried deep in your skin. You don't think you're outstandingly pretty, you're not special, you're not even supposed to have any sort of friendly or private contact with him whatsoever. Your job is on the line every time he has his 'fun'. But every time you scold him with that fact, he's got the same answer.

'I've got enough money for both of us, baby.'

You're not sure how the hell the agency has not yet caught onto his games- teasing words never directed at the fans, but you on the other side monitoring- them hearing in on it simply collateral damage. He knows you watch him every time he goes live. Your angry emojis you send him every time he edges on getting inappropriate in front of millions worth it every time, as he has to imagine you angrily scolding him so cutely just like last time you did.

He wonders how long you'll let him toy around with you like this.

He remembers when you ended his live when he fell asleep, calling and ringing his doorbell in panic because of the still burning candle- but when he'd tried to lure you into his claws, offering to have you sleep over at his place since it was late and raining heavily, you'd declined- probably having sensed his actual hidden motive.

You're not easy. And he can't deny that he loves the chase.

At first, it was just fun. He thought if he played it cool and most of all smart enough, you'd eventually cave in- but by now, he's actually become much more personally interested in you. It's not just about what you might feel like all messed up under his hands with his dick balls deep inside you anymore- that's somewhat moved into the background, lust no longer the main reason for his interest.

It's the soft domesticity you offer him here and there, gentle care a man like him can do nothing but fall for.

You're nothing but IT staff, newly hired for your exceptional skills when it comes to recovering data from the most messed up hard drives, and your talent for making sure nothing leaks out where it's not supposed to. You take your job seriously, work with all your soul and energy, always try and do your best even in the most lost-cause-scenarios. But he remembers you restoring almost all of his files after his pc crashed, offering him gentle reassurance and some water to calm him down. And a few weeks later when his tablet was infected with a virus (most likely stemming from the.. not so family friendly he occasionally visits...), you'd simply giggled about it, not making a huge deal out of it, even sharing your homemade food with him in his office while you waited for the new firmware to install.

You cook really well. Not perfect- but perfectly imperfect, just like home cooking is supposed to be. And you're so sweet- it's giving him cavities just thinking of you.

And yeah- you're also called his 'babysitter' whenever he's live randomly at night, since you yourself can't sleep all that much. He wonders if it's insomnia, or another health issue. He wonders if he could do something to help you sleep at night.

He wonders if you'd hold onto him when asleep. He wonders if you like holding hands.

He's asked you these things privately often, at first just to tease, but these days he means those questions. He wants to know more about you, about who you are apart from your job, but you take your role in the company pretty seriously it seems like. You never break your contract, always remind him that you're not allowed to either answer his questions, or have any private contact at all.

And he hates it. He hates that you're so goddamn nice, never daring to break any rules.

"Hm? Ah yes, it's late.." he comments at the chat flowing with thousands of messages, not truly paying attention to them. "Its late, I can't sleep~" He hums, leaning back against his couch, sighing. "Maybe I should eat? I'm not on a diet right now.." he wonders to himself, picking at his new piercing. "..maybe. Would you eat with me?" He wonders, and on the other side of the live, in your office chair, you want to hit your head on your keyboard.

He knows exactly what he's doing. You want to punch that dumb smirk right off his face.

"Hm, would you.. I'll make some food, yes." He nods to himself, getting up to take the phone with him, setting it up in his kitchen. "Late night Ramyeon.. yes." He sings, dancing a little as he opens two bowls. "I'll eat two. I've got.. a big appetite." He says, having turned around to look at the chat again- or more so the camera. "And I'll put some sauce in it too. I like it hot, you know?" He giggles, and you on the other side wonder if it would cost you your job if you 'accidentally' cut the connection.

Instead, you send a red-faced angry emoji and a pointing finger as a warning.

And the moment he receives it he brightly grins laughing to himself. Are you watching him from your office at the company building? Or maybe you watch him from home? Possibly in bed? And if so, are you wearing anything? Images of you in nothing but underwear spark in his mind, making him space out as he leans on the kitchen counter, hand playing with his bottom lip. He'd bet half of his wealth you probably wear cute lacy underwear, with bows in the middle.

He could probably rip the frail fabric of your underwear off your pretty body with his bare hands. He knows he's got the strength for it.

"Hm, maybe I can't finish two though?" He wonders as he fills both bowls up with hot water. "But I'll try.." he sings to himself, not a care in the world while you watch, being tortured by the sight of his broad back. It would be a lie to say that he's not attractive- he knows it too, after all, and you're not blind. You're simply just not putting your job on the line for a simple affair- you won't be used like that.

You've been through that before. You can't do this again.

The rest of his live is uneventful, he doesn't actually eat any of his food, ends the live with the excuse that he's tired after all, and you're finally falling head first in your lap before your phone rings. Accepting it, you don't answer, but his voice on the other end does.

"If you come over now, it'll still be hot when you're here." He chuckles, and you know he refers to the instant food he'd made.

"Jungkook-ssi, I can't do that.!" You groan.

"Why not?" He wonders almost innocently. "Its not like people will know." He tells you.

"I'm not putting my job on the line for.. an affair." You decline. "You might have your fun, but I'll have to deal with the consequences later." You say, and for a moment, there's no sound, before he sighs.

"You know.." he starts, sitting down on a chair at his kitchen table. "..weeks prior I would've given up at this point. Would've told you 'alright, cool' and then let it go, you know?" He tells you, one hand supporting his head while his phone lays on the table. "But I honestly don't wanna just.. have an affair, as you call it."

"Oh?" You scoff. "Jungkook-ssi, I have to end this call. Please refrain from-"

"I want to get to know you." He rushes out. "I.. genuinely want to. I take all of the blame if things go south. I'll make sure you get the best job if Hybe kicks you out, promise." He offers, before he sighs yet again. "Just.. let's just eat ramyon at my place, no strings attached." He asks, and you laugh after a moment, making him grin too.

"Eat ramyeon at your place?" You giggle, and he clicks his tongue.

"You say 'wanna see my cat' these days." He says, and you get up into a sitting position.

"Well, I mean, you were aiming to see a cat, in a way." You attempt to flirt back, and its quiet. "Oh my God sorry, I really shouldn't-"

"No, no-" he laughs. "That was adorable, really." He grins to himself on the other end of the call. "So?"

"I can't." You decline. "I don't have anything else than this job. Please don't make me do this." You say, and he bites his lower lip.

"I meant it." He repeats. "No funny business. Dick stays inside my pants, and I really will make sure to get you a new even better job if someone finds out and gets you fired." He promises.

"How can I trust you?" You ask.

"Have I ever done something to get you into trouble?" He asks, and you think.

"I can think of a few times-" you start, before laughing when he groans out in agony. "The food is cold now anyway." You say.

"I can heat it up." He offers.

"I don't like spicy things." You respond.

"Nothing wrong with being vanilla." He jokes, and you roll your eyes on your side of the call.

"You're such a pervert. What would the fans think?" You scold playfully.

"They love it." He chuckles. "Just like you'll love me."

"Bold claim." You say.

"Just give me a chance." He offers. "One chance to make you fall for me."

"What if you won't fall for me?" You ask.

"Impossible." He hums, voice low as he watches the phone on his table. "Already did."

And you're quiet for a moment, before you sigh.

"I'll bite your hand off if you touch me inappropriately." You threaten, and he laughs.

"And I'll willingly accept my punishment, baby."

[rainhidesmytears]

Miraak × Companion! Reader

Fuck the Dragon Priest. Literally.

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{I couldn't resist having a legitimate spicy snippet of our favorite Priest. I tried to proofread it, but hey, were here for affection, not perfection! (May be out of character, but we're not here to ride his personality. Just him.) Sorry if it's bad, let me dream my big girl dreams!}

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In the early days of their long standing relationship, Miraak had been very well aware of his lover and how timid she had been in his presence when faced with intimacy. Be it due to his own intimidating nature or her own inexperience, the Priest held a Godly amount of patience. When he brings her in for a kiss, and she is pulling him closer and closer; he eagerly obliges. Allowing her all of his affections- only to be confused when she pulls away just before his hands roam, embarrassed and red in the face as she makes some silly excuse to escape his arms and the situation that he's only making worse.

Naturally, it is a fresh relationship. He's allowing her all of his patience, letting her get a feel for being around him in a more intimate fashion. He loves the extra kisses where she pulls him in for more, the breathless moans against his lips when his tongue presses against her own- he is eager to give her more when she wants it, as much as she so pleases. Only for the kisses to end all too soon with her suddenly flustered and startled by her own behavior. He finds it adorable, at first believing she is shy because he is her first. He lets all this unintentional teasing slide, as he is very clearly aware it is not meant to frustrate him. His woman is simply eager for him yet unsure how to proceed farther, and easily flustered.

He loves getting her breathless and flustered before she hides away in her room from him. But those hours didn't last. Especially not when she'd tried to actually AVOID him due to her own embarrasment in grabbing hold of him. Oh, no Dearheart. That won't do. He corners her before she can run off, already grabbing hold of her jaw to make her look at him- only to see her eyes dilated and her face burning.

"Where are you heading off to at this hour, Beloved?" His eyes bore into hers, swirling with the arcane powers he had so long ago gained control of. If anything, it makes the crimson hue across her features darken. Much to his delight.

"I-I have to wash my armor- There's still sand in it." He knows she's lying, but with how she's looking at him - though still trying her best not to - he's certain of the delicious reasoning behind her gaze. "You needn't be ashamed of your desires, My Love. I will give you anything you wish, you only have to ask." He's teasing her now, able to feel her pulse race under his fingertips. Even dropping his hand to her throat and carefully pressing down just to hear a whimper leave her lips. "You sound so beautiful under my hands. Would you like me to take you, Beloved?"

He watches her swallow, a very prominent habit she seemed to have before she could conjur up an answer. "But you're busy." It's so quiet from her lips that he can hardly resist kissing her. Pulling her closer by the hand secured around her throat as he tastes her to his hearts content- leaving her breathless and gasping for air when he'd finally pulled back. "I will always have time for you, My Love. I could never be too busy for you. Especially when you need me so~" His free hand is against her, feeling over the curve of her breast before catching her hardened nipple between his fingers and pulling- Oh, the moan he gets from her has his cock ready and waiting, eager to fill his lovely little companion as much as she wishes.

"Y-Yes? Um -" Her embarrassment stops her from grabbing at him, red in the face and incredibly flustered over not entirely knowing what to do with herself because he is very much the first man who has ever shown interest that her conscience wit has recognized. She has no idea what she's begging for or what she wants, but she wants him. As much of him and his attentions as he can comfortably provide, and she has no idea just how much he wants to give her.

"I-I wouldn't be any fun- I don't know what to do, I'm sorry." Her consciousness is trying to reason with her, knowing their age difference and her very clear lack of experience. But where she sees a lack of attraction for someone so unknowing, he finds the most endearing woman in front of him. She brings him gifts of powerful tomes and artifacts from ancient ruins, reads with him, and defends his home of her own free will because they're friends. Not because he's a God, not because she worships him, because they are friends.

Now, their relationship has slowly begun to change. It's more intimate. Soft kisses and embraces that swell his heart when he catches her grinning at him from across the room, even more so when she throws grapes at him just to grab his attention from something frustrating to chase her instead- he loves this woman, and he wants even more so to give his love to her in this way as well. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, My Love. I can show you everything. Whenever you're ready for my attention, I will gladly give it to you. Would you like that?" His words are soft, and his lips are warm against hers when he kisses her again, unable to resist with the way she looks at him.

"Please? I want you. I- Oh- that was rude." His laughter has her face only turning darker, pulling her closer by her throat only to drop his hands and then lift her up by her thighs, laughing brighter as his woman squeals from his actions- oh he loves this. The joy she brings to his very soul is indescribable. The chance at meeting someone who desires him and his mind and not the power or riches he could most certainly provide. Such a feat is damn near unattainable, and he covets this newfound love of his greedily. As he should.

Their first time lasts near ages. Slow in the beginningas he allows all of his patience for this woman he knows has no experience in such acts. He's easing her into being comfortable in her own skin and getting her used to seeing him naked. It was such a struggle holding back his laughter when she had covered her face when he'd began undressing, not even halfway bare as his outer robes were laying across the nightstand, watching his easily flustered woman in amusement. "Are you not enjoying the view, Beloved?"

He's teasing her, and the groan from her lips sounds far sweeter than he had thought it would. "You are a chisled work of art, and I have never seen you even remotely undressed, save for you mask and gloves." She's grumbling at him, complimenting him and making it very clear she is absolutely enjoying the sight of him as she pouts at his laughter- only for her eyes to widen at the sight of a very naked Priest.

"Oh my Stars-"

"Basking in the glory of a God, Pet?"

He teases her, flustering her and turning her face red before he's letting her touch and get a feel for him. For them. She has free reign across his skin, and he melts into her careful touches when it's clear she's admiring him. Scars, old burns from a spell gone wrong- she's leaving kisses across where she can reach, and he is doing the same. It's so soft and patient in comparison to the past lovers he's had, mainly because those lovers had at least some semblance of sexual knowledge, where she didn't. This is a very new and very delicate experience for her, and he intends to make it a good one.

He yearns for the chance at showing her how very wonderful such intimacy can be with the right partner. His touches and kisses are slow and mapped out, taking every opportunity to trace his tongue over all the places he's been yearning for - making her squirm beneath him. He knows how aroused she is and he knows he's making it worse, but he's making certain that she is ready for him long before she's allowed to have his cock. Miraak is very well aware of just how big of a man he is and how small his woman is by stature. Stars when he gets his hands on her she is so responsive. He loves how she arches into his touch, mewling and quietly begging for more- he can't resist kissing her, letting her pull him in for more and more and more because it's so addicting- especially when she uses her tongue against him.

It's such a lovely little surprise that he'd let her fuck his throat with the appendage if only she knew how. "May I touch you, Dearheart? Please?" His lips are against her. Kissing her. Biting and sucking marks into her skin that has her moaning beneath him, her breasts decorated in softer bites and her shoulders bruised just a bit more- and she teases him as he basks in his own joy of tasting her. "You're already touching me, Miraak~ Isn't it a little late to be asking?" She's joking, running her fingers through his hair only for him to bite down on her inner thigh as punishment for her response - dragging a very excited whine of his name out of her.

"I want to hear from you that I am allowed to touch you more intimately, Beloved. Either I have your words that you want this, or I will not touch you." He's already reaching up to cradle her face, pulling her for soft kisses on her lips as he explains. "You're not in trouble, Dearheart. I want to make sure you're comfortable with me, and what we're doing before I go farther. There is no shame in wanting to stop. The moment you request that I stop, I will. May you believe that I will not harm in any way that is not enjoyable."

He gives her time to absorb his words, understanding that she needs a moment or two in order to think of what she means to say before she's already leaning in to kiss him again, and he lets her. "I like it when you touch me. It sets my skin on fire and I want you to touch me more, i-if that's alright with you. Please?" She's flustered, eager for more of him and finding the words to consent like he wants. Not just because he wants it, but because she wants more of him too.

"I'd love nothing more than to get my mouth on you, Beloved. Let me know if it's too much, and we can stop. It's alright to be nervous." He's encouraging her, taking the majority of his actions slow enough for her to get a feel for what it is they are doing together so she isn't startled, and by the Gods she is soaking wet and he wants so badly to taste her; and when finally given permission that's exactly what he does. His companion doesn't have a chance to be embarrassed about her cunt or how aroused she is before his lips have already made contact with the sensitive flesh. The God has his arms around her thighs, spreading them so he can be between them, hiking her legs over his shoulders before she can comprehend what he's doing before he's already tasting her. His tongue is flat against her, making her gasp and shiver as he licks up the juices that have dripped down her thighs and her cunt, already pressing his face into her as much as he can to taste this beautiful woman in his bed- devouring her to his hearts content.

She has no leverage to keep herself up, having dropped to the bed only to arch up at the feeling of his tongue sinking into her, and the bastard is using magic to mimick her own elongated apendage so he can reach as deeply as he wants. She's already cuming on his tongue before she knows what that feeling is and it's so heavenly that her moans are breathless and broken, overwhelmed in such a good way that she doesn't want him to stop and he doesn't. He lets her pull at his hair, moaning against her at how good it feels, and this poor woman only wants more, and he intends to give it. But he wants her soaking wet before he'll even consider using his fingers. He gets her to cum twice more before pulling his tongue out of her. Though he does it slowly. Making her watch, and he has half a mind to fuck it back into her when he can feel her clenching at the sight. She's so pretty like this. Thighs trembling, her blush coating her throat and all the way down to her breasts, only accentuating all of his marks across her delicate skin. Oh, the sight is to die for.

"Do you want more, Pet?"

"Y-Yes, Sir! Please - Yes!"

He's already grasped her chin in his hand, not liking how that word sounds on her lips when she speaks to him. It is far too formal for his liking. He loves how she disregards his title, and views him as someone she cherishes- though now would be such a lovely time for her to beg him with such regard. "You may refer to me as your Master. It should give you some semblance of respect for your God~" At first it turns her pink because he's referring to himself as hers, and then it has her grinning at him in a way that has hold of his heart.

"You just want to hear me beg, don't you?" She's teasing him. That much he knows- but for some reason it just sounds so delicious on her lips. Especially when she pulls him closer to kiss him. Tasting herself on his tongue and licking his lips and chin clean of her own arousal that had gotten everywhere due to his own excitement in finally having the chance to bury his head between her legs. The growing confidence she portrays makes his cock twitch in excitement.

"Please, Master, I want more. I want to feel you, to touch and kiss you-" She only adds to her own begging when she pulls him in for needy kisses, able to hear him groan against her lips at how eager she is for him and his touch- oh she makes him want more than he thought was already possible. "I'll be good, I promise~" Her playful words cause him to pinch her cheek softly, making her whine and pout at him through her lashes.

"You're lying to me."

"But you love it when I lie to you~" She kisses him again, and he gives in, loving this playful woman and how eager she is for him and his touches. He wants her drooling. Unable to think enough to tease him- but it sounds so good that he can't bring himself to even imagine a gag. Though his hand is already against her as she kisses him, playing with her clit and pinching at that little bundle of nerves to get her attention- only to trace his fingers over the opening of where he'd just had such a lovely meal. Her cunt has a vice grip on a single digit of his and he can't help but love how it feels, sinking his finger into her and pulling it back out just to repeat as much as he likes, getting a rise out of her from the feeling.

"Oh- Stars~" Those breathless moans from this new sensation have him in a choke hold, loving the view of her squirming, trying to get a little bit more friction from him, only to be held down by her hips.

"Be still, Pet. We need to losen this beautiful cunt of yours if you're going to have any chance of taking my cock tonight." The way she clenches down on that finger at his words makes him grin, teasing her as he thumbs the bundle of nerves just a bit more before attempting to add a second finger. She only tightens around him as he's pressed two fingers inside of her, able to feel her tense and shudder beneath him. As powerful as he may be, he is equally understanding and patient with her. Pressing gentle kisses to her face and her temple, keeping his hand still to allow her time to adjust to this very new feeling. His hands are rough and calloused from years of mastering the arcane arts, and the moment he's moved them inside of her he feels a very distinct sort of popping, and she's already jolted beneath him. At first, he worries. Naturally, as this is definitely her first time, and he isn't sure if the motion of breaking past her hymen has startled her.

She has tears in the corners of her eyes from the initial sting of pain, having jolted due to surprise from the feeling of being stretched open, but the moment he slowly starts curling his fingers upwards, she had already cum again on his fingers, holding his arm in place so he wouldn't pull away too soon- as he was worried he'd hurt her and wanted to check in.

"Oh- no, please! Don't stop!" Her begging pauses his attempt at removing his hand, testing the waters by moving his fingers again, only for her to moan and drop her head back onto the pillows.

"How do you feel, Pet? Answer me, or I remove my fingers." Her whine at his words have him stretching her again, admiring the eager roll of her hips for more before being held down again.

"It feels good!" She chokes back a moan when his fingers move again, a little show of blood trickling down his hand and onto the sheets demanding he make sure she isn't lying to please him.

"Describe it to me. Tell me what it feels like." If she likes pain, he's more than happy to keep going, but if not, he'll stop completely.

"It burns, and the sting is sharp, but Stars, please - Give me more~ Please, Master~" He'd concluded that she was truly enjoying herself, and he was certainly enjoying it too, moving his fingers deeper and curling them upwards had her seeing stars before she'd cum again, mewling against his lips when he'd give in and kiss her again, letting her wrap her arms around him to pull him down for more as he massaged her tight walls.

When he'd gotten three fingers stuffed into her, it was increasingly harder for her to stay still, and it set his pride on fire. He loved holding her down and flexing those digits in her tight cunt, basking in her moans and whines and attempts to move her hips for more.

"You take me so well, Pet. Absolutely breathtaking." He praises her, trailing bites across her breasts and down her stomach only to trail back up to her lips before finally deeming her ready enough to possibly take his cock hours long after they'd started together. +

Naturally, he uses a generous amount of lube on his cock and the shock on her face at how big he actually was had him grinning, especially when he gets to watch her clench around nothing at just the sight of him. "Is that even going to fit inside of me? How the fuck did you hide that under your robes?" He's kissing her again, amused by her words as it only further stroked his ego.

"I'll help you, Beloved. You can take me. Remember, we can always stop if its too much, I won't be upset." His gentle reminders are met with soft and appreciative kisses before he has her pick what position she would prefer for their first time together.

"Do you want to be in my lap as I take you? Or would you like to start where we are and see where the night takes us?" Rubbing the tip of his cock against her wasn't helping her think, especially not so far into a all of his teasing and experienced fingering. Though the Priest found an other worldly delight in watching her try and focus enough to decide. Though when he'd press in, only to pull back out had her whining at him, pouting up at his grin- only for her to startle the God when she'd pounced on him, straddling his lap and moving her soaked cunt against his cock. His nails digging into her ass as she teased him, only met by low moans of his name before she'd finally had a chance to answer.

"Please don't tease me. It's not fair." She whined at him, only to receive hotter kisses that bruised her lips and left her breathless as she leaned forward for more when he'd pulled back to speak.

"Shall I take you in my lap, Pet? Sink as deeply into your needy little cunt as I can?" Met with eager agreement and begging had finally earned her a prize when he'd helped to hold her up, sitting back against the headboard so he'd have leverage as she began lowering herself onto his cock. The both of their heads had dropped at such a feeling. His against the wall behind him and hers against his shoulder. Her cunt is squeezing the life out of his poor cock as he stretches this woman so much more than his fingers had the chance to do so. The feeling of being so full with such a delightful sting has her gasping. The twinge of pain bordering so far into pleasure that it became intoxicating, urging her to drop herself a little too fast for his liking.

The words of scolding die in his throat as her orgasm rips through her when he's nestled into her to the hilt that neither of them can move in that moment. Her thighs tremble as an orgasm overwhelms her senses at being so very full of him in such a quick movement and he is doing his damnedest not to pour his seed into her so soon. But, oh, how he wants to. The tears in her eyes from the stinge of the stretch have him only partially worried, as her thighs are still shaking and her cunt is spazzaming around him. He would understand if she were overwhelmed in that moment. All of these new feelings coming one after the other paired with how very deeply he is sated within her and how very full she feels with him there. He kisses away her tears, praising her and telling her how beautiful she is like this, how well she's taking him and it's not helping his control when each praise goes straight to her cunt and it's squeezing him again after she had only just been able to catch her breath- oh he learns so very soon how much she truly likes it when he praises her, and he loves it.

The praise is endless now, paired with him deeming her ready enough to move on his cock- and it is pure ecstasy when she finally has his permission to move. Riding his cock with reckless abandon has him twitching inside of her, unable to keep his hands to himself as he only pulls her closer and closer, letting her fuck herself on his cock to see how she likes it before he even thinks of taking over and the view is absolutely magnificent. Her horns on display for him to grab and her wings he can caress all he likes? Oh she cums so many times on his cock that she's got his poor heart in a vice grip at this rate.

No sign of exhausting or pause has him eager to take control, only truly railing into her when she finally wins him over with her begging and pleading, wanting more of him and he eagerly provides all that she asks. The night is long, and the large bed leaves them endless opportunities as he fucks himself into his beloved companion. Stuffing her completely full and dragging all but the tip of his cock from her twitching hole, only to slowly push back in until he meets the little nudge of her cervix, drawing mewls and whines from the beautifully ravished woman beneath him.

"Tell me where you want me to spend, Beloved. Shall I fill you to the brim with my seed, or shall I paint your glistening cunt white? You must tell me, for my control is slipping." His words are slow against her ear, a groan pulled from his throat as he restrains himself enough to ask, basking in her soaking warmth as she quickly locks her ankles behind him. The both of them crying out when she pulls him forward and the action causes a rather rough nudging against the deepest parts of her.

"Fuck! In-Inside- Inside me- Please~" Her hands are in his hair. Tangled in the strands as his thrusts become rougher, fucking his aching cock into her greedily as her legs prevent him from pulling far enough out to tease her much more. Her begging is rewarded with kisses, hot and bruising as his movements become ragged and sloppy. Dragging their bodies as close as physically possible as he buries the head of his cock completely against her cervix when he cums. The force of his thrust and the orgasm he eagerly pours into her wanting cunt has her screaming his name when she arches into him, his face in her breasts as her warmth swallows him in- milking him for his worth.

♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

<pleaseee let me know if anyone likes this I'm dyinggg>

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hello! May we hear/read more about Revelator, please? 👀

You wish to know about my original work??? Chatter mode has been unlocked with this query.

Revelator is my attempt to make my workaholic brain shut up. I struggle to continue finding purpose in writing fics when I can't capitalize on it. So I decided it would be a good idea to take the basic premise of one of my fics and apply it to my own original work to inspire me to work on something productive and maintain my hobby. That said, Revelator follows the general premise of my most popular fic, The Many Lives of Optimus Prime.

Rant incoming.

In a universe where humanity has fled to the stars after their empire was shattered by an unknowable entity, twenty sentient robotic units are created by a relic that humanity does not understand but still houses. Due to a series of misfortunes on the world they tried to terraform, the last remnants of humanity are wiped out, leaving the entire world to the Twenty and the relic that made them.

The main character of this tale is the only one out of the Twenty who foresaw the coming deaths of their human masters and was promptly ignored. After humanity fell, he tried to guide the rest of the Twenty into creating a civilization in light of more of their kind being forged by the relic. His vocal nature led to his destruction at the hands of one of his fellows. However, against the odds, he found himself returned to full functionality in a new frame and with newfound purpose.

The relic that made him and the rest is more than it seems. It has sensed the threat that doomed humanity and it has no interest in watching its creations fall as well. And so it has chosen a champion, one whose sole mission is to endure the test of time, learn, grow, and ultimately gain enough power to shape this fledgling race so that they might stand a chance against the doom that is coming.

My original work follows my main character throughout his various lives and throughout the various eras of his world. He will watch, he will learn, and when he has lived long enough to have gained wisdom, everything will come together with him taking power. In many regards, his tale will mirror my fic. However, I am taking care to create an original world with a unique race to inhabit it. I hope to make each life its own story so that there is always something new to see and explore. In a way, its my worldbuilding project. I also want every excuse to not write humans. I need to keep to my niche or I will lose interest immediately. Thanks TF.

Thus far I have twenty three pages written, nine chapters fully planned, and the second arc mostly conceptualized. Here is a snippet from chapter one.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You were not made to serve us, child of the Mind. Your creator made you for a reason that far exceeds anything myself or the commanders of this vessel could ever envision.” There was something sad in the priest’s tone as the lift came to a stop. Nineteen found himself conflicted as he watched his master step forward and onto the platform that ran around the exterior of the Great Mind.

“That conclusion has no logical basis.” He managed to murmur as he followed the priest. There was always something strange about being so close to the thing that made him. The thrum of its crimson core always had Nineteen’s personal fusion core pulsing in sync with the greater machine. 

“Child of the Mind, you have so little faith. Look upon yourself and your siblings, then see the rest of those made by the Mind. You are unique, each and every one of you.” The priest paused and gestured to Nineteen, prompting him to stop in his tracks. The surface of the Great Mind shifted in time with the priest’s words. Nineteen would almost claim it to be in response to his master’s commentary if he were a believer in any capacity. 

“We have purpose, and we shall serve.” Nineteen stated simply. There was little thought in his response. Whatever the priest was getting at was beyond his design. He and the twenty were made to serve. That was all. The loyalty coding, their sentience, and all the rest meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Nineteen would still be disposed of if he proved a burden, regardless of the potential mysticism around him and his kin. 

“You shall serve. But it shall not be those of flesh that you give your loyalty to.” The priest smiled, and it was only then that Nineteen noted the cables running from underneath his master’s robe. They were part of the augments priests of the mechanicus received, and at some point during their short walk, those cables had connected to the Great Mind.

There was no railing separating them from the relic, and as such, there was nothing to theoretically stop the priest from connecting to the Great Mind. Even still, Nineteen found himself unsettled. When had the connection occurred? Why did his master’s eyes hold a strange gleam to them?

“I do not understand.” He stood stiffly, his gaze flicking between the relic and his master. The thoughts of machines did not often translate cleanly for organics. Perhaps the priest was confused and interpreting the logical processing of the relic incorrectly. The twenty were made for the express reason of serving those aboard the Eden. They had been told as such from the moment of their forging and it had thus far proven true. There was no reason to believe the murmured prophecy of the elderly human before him.

Despite that, there was a degree of unease that wormed its way into his mind as he watched the priest grin in an almost understanding way. 

“You don’t need to. I have a feeling it will make more sense to you as you age.” A red glow entered the priest’s eyes. It was hardly present, but to Nineteen who possessed far superior vision than any unaugmented human, it was almost impossible to ignore.

“Come here and pass me that cloth if you would be so kind.” Then, just like that, the moment ended and the priest disconnected from the relic. His cables slipped back beneath his robes into whatever holster they originated from and he approached the only work table on the platform. Nineteen quickly reset his optics and filed away the data for later review. It wasn’t important right now. 

[immoralimmortals]

I really love that u include things about Takaras life here in our world and well it got me thinking how the heck would the akatsuki survive school in ur perspective, it can be anything really, u can even include Takara. I REALLY love her as a character

I need to be honest with you, and I'll try to put this in the most lighthearted way possible: I fucking hated school. Absolute nightmare, 0/10 would not do again. Makes my pulse race just thinking about it. I learn about socially uncomfortable things for fun and to this day nothing makes me stand up and leave the room faster than a scene where you can smell the school bullying around the corner. The concept of "school" in media is my white whale, my blight, my curse, my ultimate challenge, and it does NOT matter how trivial and comedic the actual scene is.

So my view of school is, perhaps, skewed compared to how other people think about it.

That being said, I'm going to do my best to shove all that into the locker now that this exposition is out of the way. Let's talk about fun school AU ideas!

The "Akatsuki" is a group of kids, let's think maybe towards the younger side, elementary school. They have little in common besides how one at a time, they all become outcasts and join in as a result.

The original Akatsuki are, of course, Nagato, Konan, and Yahiko, who along with being friends, became dedicated to an idea of justice and fairness. Yahiko moved to another school, which fundamentally changed the vibe. Nagato and Konan, though still great friends, are both inherently very quiet and introverted, Yahiko being the one that spoke for them all; Nagato promised himself he'd learn how to be a good leader like Yahiko was.

Obito, deeply lonely having just moved *in* to the school, begins to hang around, inserting himself more and more, giving his opinions and creating "plans" with them, such as where they should build their new base. Zetsu joins much the same way, merely being around, but seems more like he's watching than participating.

Hidan is a homeschooled kid that has a fence bordering on the playground of the school. He peeks his head over the top and asks the nerds what they're doing, climbing over the barrier and sticking his nose in their business before they can say no.

Kisame and Itachi are already friends, best friends actually. Other kids told them it's weird for two boys so different to be so close, and after getting in one too many fights are sequestered on the side of the playground where their opponents are not. Itachi takes interest in the group, so Kisame is along for the ride.

Kakuzu is the kid that legitimately has anger management issues. He's a very bright kid but typically is not allowed to be with others his age unsupervised, as his temper is heavy and always feels justified. He's brought under the watchful eye of teacher assistants to the playground, so that he can implement his social strategies for better behavior, and for god knows what reason attached to the group of outcasts. Honestly, for the best.

Deidara forcibly joins in because he thinks he can make them into what is, more or less, his personal fan club, being one of the two "art kids" with recognized and praised talent. Upon getting the cold shoulder, he sticks around, thinking it as a challenge. Secretly, however, he has no close friends; that's why he stays.

Sasori is in a similar way as Kakuzu, but in a manner less socially obtrusive. He's quiet, with a near constant steeled expression (see: autistic) and a great level of detail. It's less that he joins and more that the Akatsuki begin to merge around him, little by little, as the intrigue about a supposedly genius boy who doesn't talk to anyone but adults greatens.

The adventure begins when after this group is together and established, they find a lost girl in the woods behind the playground, scraped up and crying. She's so shy she can't stop shaking, not enough to say her name, so they call her Takara. Little by little, as she begins to be able to talk, she does not object to this being her name. She is regularly seen being held by the hand and looking down at her shoes. She "got lost" walking from the school to the playground-- hence her being in the woods-- and is constantly worried about being lost again and left behind. She doesn't say much, but she's always included. She is a student that is transitioning from private parochial school to public school.

[honeylashofficial]

Walls and Gates

I only just came across this. I had this piece lying around in my whump document. Shrugged and said, “Why not?” (576 words)

AU: Scar and Grian are platonic soulmates across the entire life series

Prompt: #26, Nostalgia (or maybe #25, Memories) from @moomoorare’s MCYT AUgust post!

—

Scar knew that the relationship was ingenuine, but he chose to ignore it.

          Where Scott and Jimmy would walk hand in hand, and Ren and Martyn liked to feed off of each other's chaotic energy, Grian only gave him scowls and cold shoulders.

          But the pain that it brought him would never compare to being lonely.

          That’s why he hand-picked lilacs and poppies the night he lost his second life. It’s the reason he pulled his punches on top of Monopoly Mountain. It’s why he allowed Grian to get away with one of his precious, numbered lives, and it’s why he baked cookies for Grian’s secret interest, even while his heart begged for the avion to give some small sign of appreciation in return. He was brushed aside again and again, but no matter what, his heart stayed with his soulmate. He hadn’t been sure of the connection for a long time, but after so many years, and so many coincidences, he knew this to be true; they were made for each other, and Grian hated him for it.

          Over the years, Scar had come up with an analysis for their relationship. He called it “the soulmate mindset”, and he had traced it all the way back to when he’d first met Grian in a small village, where other passerbyers happened to be wandering about. The first racing heartbeats had felt confusing, considering he hadn’t been the one being spooked. He’d watched the prank pulled on Grian from afar, but his pulse had still leapt into his throat and his limbs stiffened tightly. It hadn’t been anything alarming, and no one else seemed to react the same way. He’d written it off as second hand anxiety, or something similar, but as he officially met Grian and became closer as friends, the connections just didn’t seem to stop. Small things, big things, exciting things, scary things… They all began to put some sort of pressure on his heart, and it was only settled by being close to Grian —being at his side, helping or following or serving on behalf. The only problem was that Grian could care less for his presence. He had made that abundantly clear during the sour pledge of service in the small village. He’d made a face upon being offered lilacs and poppies. He hadn’t held back on his punches. He’d fled with a smug grin upon receiving the extra life, and he’d snatched up the cookies without a second glance back at him. The avion had no room in his heart for Scar —at least, he didn’t care to make any more room for him. Scar was merely a pawn beside the rooks and the bishops, whereas on his board, Grian sat beside him; his queen; royalty. A perfect picture of destruction and chaos and capability. That was the thing about relationships though. Where Scar had built a gate to allow Grian to pass through, Grian had formed a wall. A high, unfriendly one with barbs that dug into Scar’s skin whenever he got too close. Grian would watch from the other side, ignoring him completely as he carried on with whatever he was up to. He never entered Scar’s gate unless it was for some sort of personal gain. But Scar had built a gate, and he didn’t plan to latch it anytime soon.

          Because they were soulmates, and despite Grian’s best efforts, there was no changing that anytime soon either.

[salty-accords]

WIP Novel Fragments #2

Here's some more drafting I've done for Part 1 of my novel. TW: references to alcohol, mild suspense.

If you're interested in supporting me, please check out my Linktree (in bio) for my Ko-Fi or my Patreon, where you can become a Member for $1/month on either platform and receive early access to video content and social media shout-outs, donate, or hire me to edit, format, or give feedback on prose up to 5,000 words!

Date: 7/5/24, 1:00PM EST

She froze, staring down the tall, hooded figure in the middle of the road. Her heart began to race, a knot clenching somewhere in her guts like she had a bad stomach bug. The stranger seemed to be watching her, but she couldn’t quite tell with the shadows cast over their face. Their clothes were all black and flowy-looking, even saturated with rain water. Her heart pounded behind her ribs and she swallowed harshly.

Alice broke from the possible staring contest and trudged out from under the roof, turning sharply to trot across the monoculture lawns of her neighbors. She didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions or be bothered by some creep. She just wanted out of the rain.

#

“No work,” the woman stated plainly, her head cocking to the side at what must’ve been a painful angle. Alice tried not to cringe at the sight. “No work, only play–you’re not going to run away, so he’ll just take you–he’ll take you away!”

Turning on her heel, Alice decides it’s high time she book it out of whatever-the-fuck cult bullshit that woman was drunk on. She was obviously insane–probably brainwashed by some obscure cult-sect out of town, and she’d probably wandered in and gotten lost. Yeah.

There was no reason for her to get all up in arms about one nutty old lady.

“The Black King will have his queen again! The Queen of Blood will RISE and she will take us all! She’ll take us ALL down with her! All of us!”

#

Dear Diary, it’s June 1st. I just came home from a friend’s house, and they told me this amazing story. They said they fell in love with another friend of theirs. Someone I wouldn’t know, of course. She lives out of state, and it’s probably best that she does—Daddy would never let me be friends with a girl like her, from the sounds of it. He’s very protective. He loves me a lot. Any good father would protect his little girl from someone like that. But I can’t help but wonder what her life must be like! I’m a curious person. Mama’s always having to remind me about that old cat—curiosity done killed it, and don’t I know. It’s no good to go spending all my time wondering about other people when I’ve got plenty on my plate already—even if they are interesting and strange and unique. The story my friend told me went about like this: They were at a sleepover with this girl, and she’s beautiful. She’s got these gorgeous dark eyes, so rich they’re almost black, and amazing skin—smooth and dark like sand after a storm. My friend says that there are shells hidden in her skin, scars that they want to collect and lift to their ear, listening to her stories and the pulse underneath. She keeps herself hidden inside. The girl isn’t the beach, she’s the life within it. Like a crab; or like a pirate. She uses her body in much more clever ways than my friend—according to my friend. This girl doesn’t hunt, doesn’t fish, doesn’t run laps with dogs, like my friend does, but she wanders. Her legs carry her everywhere and her arms take people with her—she never adventures alone, not really. Her phone is full of photographs and videos, and her mouth is full of stories for her friends. Her fingers leave paint everywhere she goes, drying on old brick walls and seeping between bark until the next rain can wash it away. She takes enough water for two, always, and an extra meal, just in case. Her tough exterior could fool anyone, and that’s what she likes. She likes being a statement—she’s her own story, one about proving people wrong.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Ok you amazing person. Demon Sapnap, but the reader is really sick or maybe is in an accident and ends up in hospital. Sapnap and Dream both visit and get jealous of eachother. Eventually Dream leaves and Sapnap is just there like 👁👄👁 And then after a day or two the reader is finally home and Sapnap is like really pent up because he has been jealous Horny and reader has been in hospital and he just rails them, but softly because reader is still weak. Basically jealous soft-dom Demon Sapnap.

This is just an idea- by no means do you have to write it :)

I'm begrudgingly writing Dre as Mr. Steal Your Girl for obvious reasons (/ j), but also I couldn't pass down this idea for incubus 3 ;) I'm also going to include a few other requests I had about Sap's backstory and some smut. enjoy!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

warnings: smut (18+), spanking, degradation, thigh riding, domination, literally quoting the b!ble

here's a playlist for those of you that were asking for it. i would love to see what the rest of you are listening to :)

previous part

You opened your eyes slowly, the ache in your body fully coming to your attention as you noticed the metronome of beeps coming from the machines connected to the tubes in your arm. You turned your head, squinting as your eyes struggled to focus on the figure beside you. After a few minutes, your brain pieced together his features and your heart eased when you realized it was Sapnap. For some, obviously ungodly reason, his presence brought you a sense of calm.

His feet were kicked up on the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning over a magazine as he chewed on his bottom lip absent-mindedly. He was dressed more casually than he usually was, probably an attempt at blending into the general public. You reached out a hand, fingers brushing against the soft material of his dark crewneck to get his attention. His gaze moved to look at you, a smirk painting across his pink lips.

You cleared your throat, tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What happened?” You grumbled, reaching beside him for the remote to elevate your head.

He watched your movements carefully. “You got a fever and then passed out cold,” he reminded you softly, making you groan. “Dehydration.” You couldn’t remember what he was talking about, only feeling nauseous in the middle of the night.

“How long have I been here?” You asked, rolling your head on your shoulders as your neck cracked, your limbs popping as you moved slightly. The IV pinched your arm as you moved, making you hiss quietly, making his eyes focus on where it was attached.

He hummed in thought. “A few hours. They wanna keep you until tomorrow, just in case you die or something,” he shrugged, tossing the magazine on the couch in the corner of the room.

You rubbed one of your eyes, a yawn rippling through you. “And why are you here?”

He chuckled. “Obvious reasons,” he stated, nodding towards the bite on your shoulder. “Also, Saint Dream was the first on your emergency contact list, so…” You pulled your knees to your chest as you looked at him.

“Even if it’s just because you have a quota to meet, I’m glad you’re here,” you muttered and something flickered behind his eyes, a smug expression tugging at his lips.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the ground. “You’re not part of my quota, baby.” Your cheeks flushed at his words but before you could respond, he tensed up, eyes clouding with a darkened gold. They always shifted when something was intruding. You furrowed your brows at him. “Lupus in fabula venit enim ad me,” he mumbled darkly, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his voice as a knock came at your door.

Clay stuck his head through the threshold, eyes softening at you. Sapnap watched him silently as he stepped inside, rambling off how worried he was about you. Clay seemed to ignore Sapnap’s presence as he settled a batch of roses on your nightstand. Sapnap rolled his eyes and once Clay finally acknowledged him, he made a face like he was smelling something rotten. Sapnap looked like he was ready to snap Clay in half if he approached you closer, yet his dark demeanor didn’t dissuade Clay. In fact, it seemed like Clay was hell-bent on ruffling his feathers more, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.

“I didn’t think he would be here,” Clay commented, voice dipping slightly as his sights shifted toward Sapnap, irises flashing brighter. You perked an eyebrow at him.

Sapnap scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m here because she wants me here,” he commented, nearly with a boasting tone. “So, it seems like I’m in the right role to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing.” You kept silent as the two played their game of wits and egos.

Clay smirked at him as if he was in possession of some esoteric knowledge. It dawned on you that you weren’t sure how old either of them actually was. You had dated Clay for god knows how many years, yet you learned more about his past from Sapnap than you had in any of the years you were together. “It’s still in her best interest that she be given options that don’t involve your kind,” he gritted.

Sapnap laughed shortly, a cockiness settling into his appearance. “Oh yeah? In her best interest or in yours, you selfish prick.”

Clay’s jaw tensed, a sigh flooding from his nose. “We can do this more maturely, you know? Like fucking professionals.”

Sapnap shook his head. “I’m not up for negotiating,” the stated bluntly. “Go near her again and I’ll report you,” he assured, his deadpanned stare making your heartbeat quicken.

Clay swallowed, eyes glued to Sapnap’s as the pair of them flexed their dominant personalities. Clay’s eyebrow twitched as if he had thought of something, almost mockingly. “Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,” he began, making Sapnap roll his eyes again before cutting into Clay’s quote.

“-enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works,” he mocked. “Try and exorcise me all you want, feather boy.”

Clay’s hand moved to curl around your wrist and Sapnap leaned against the bed, as if asking Clay to make his next move. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour-“

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings,” Sapnap cantered without a thought. “It’s not even the right verse for this, stupid bitch,” he grumbled.

You cleared your throat, pulling your arm away from Clay and trying not to look as if you were slinking towards Sapnap. “You should leave,” you stated, Clay’s lips pursing at your words. “I need to rest.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sapnap’s sly expression cutting into Clay.

After spending another night in the hospital, you were finally unlocking your apartment door and letting Sapnap help you out of your coat. You mumbled something about getting yourself a drink and he brushed you off, already doing it himself. Your mind was racing with questions after what you had witnessed between Clay and Sapnap. You hadn’t doubted the authenticity of Sapnap, but your mind still ran with what had happened to him. He handed you a water, sitting down on your couch as you paced slightly.

He broke into your thoughts. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking,” he stated, unbuttoning his shirt slightly. You wanted to hex him about the fact that he probably already knew what was pounding against your temples to be asked.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, rolling over your questions to censor some of them. “The bible’s been translated and reprinted so many times, how are you still…” you gestured with your hands, unable to explain where you were going with your statement.

He chuckled, brushing a hand against his chin. “It really doesn’t matter if it’s actually God’s word or not. It’s a guide, like an outline. Rules, I guess. Think about it like the Constitution.”

“I thought demons like… burned up when someone quoted the bible at them…”

His face fell a bit at this. “No, we just can’t read it,” his tone was almost regretful, sending guilt to pulse through your body because you had asked. “It’s like it’s in a completely different language, and each time I look at it, it shifts around the page. When you get dragged into hell, something happens with your eyes.” He huffed slightly, wetting his lips. “It's kind of like an isolation thing. He wants you to be completely aside from him.”

Your mind clicked, eyeing your heirloom display case. “Can I try something?” You asked, popping open one of the doors after he hummed in response. You fished out your grandmother’s rosary, the cross feeling almost heavy in your hands. You turned on your heel, bringing it closer to him before dangling it in front of him. His eyes drifted away from it, his gaze turning up to you. “Does this bug you?” You probed, making him snort. He took it in his hand, thumb caressing over the design.

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “It’s a shameful thing really. I feel guilty whenever I look at this kind of stuff,” he muttered; you sat on the arm of his chair and looked over his shoulder. He turned, looping it around your neck. “Does it bug you?”

You held it away from your chest. “For different reasons, I guess.” You stood again, putting it back in its spot beside a photo of your grandfather. “Why’d you get kicked out?” You queried softly, peering over your shoulder.

He was watching you. “Maybe another time.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked. “Did you have one?”

“I know more about your childhood than I do my own. Why all the questions?” He countered with a soft laugh.

You shrugged. “I want to get to know you…” You mumbled, your hand drifting up to rest on your shoulder, feeling heat coming off of his scaring bite mark. “How do you know when to show up?”

He sighed, leaning his back against the chair and stretching his legs. “I can feel when you get anxious. Angels have some kind of block though, that’s why it took me so long to realize you needed me when that bastard was over here.” He shook his head almost like a new fire about Dream had been lit. His eyes flickered up to you. “Unless you weren’t scared.” You shook your head quickly at his joke. He chuckled. “How does it make you feel that I’m in your head sometimes?”

You approached him again. “Narcissistic,” you answered plainly, sinking to your knees before him. You ran your hands up his thighs, a smirk growing on his features as he sat up to be closer to you. “What happens after I die? Eternal damnation?” You questioned, as his hand went to brush against your arms.

He pressed his lips to your neck before digging his fingers into your hair as if he’d been waiting to touch you for days. You hummed as he kissed you, the slight scruff of his unshaven face feeling soft against your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I think I’ll make you immortal or something. Being with me should be enough damnation,” he jeered, making you laugh. “Most of my colleagues take the souls of their targets and leave, but I enjoy your company,” he teased.

“But you already have my soul, right?” The line felt strange coming from your mouth.

His lips brushed against yours. “There’s still an innocent piece of you that I haven’t tapped into. Everyone has it; I like it in you.”

Your eyebrows perked at this, fingers digging into his thighs to make him groan. “What do you mean?”

He kissed you briefly, actions getting needier the longer you were between his legs. “It’s completely pure. Untampered by sin or desire. When a demon gets it, they go feral,” he mumbled, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, teeth dragging across your skin.

You tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over his zipper. “Take it from me,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.

“No,” he answered blatantly.

You moaned as his tongue slipped against your collarbones. “I want you to have it,” you continued, voice uneven. His fingers tugged at your hair.

His breath was warm against your shoulders. “I’ll take it after a few years. I don’t want it now.”

You pushed him away from you, his eyes already blown with lust as you looked into them. “You just said demons want it so badly. Take mine.”

He chuckled, hands dropping to your jaw. “No,” he repeated, voice light.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with a tilted expression. “Is mine not good enough for you?”

He wheezed. “No, it’s perfect. I just… After I take it, it’s like you’re dead. You’re not the same. Your humanity is gone.” He pulled you back up towards him. “I’ll take it when I’m ready to escort you to hell.”

You quipped an eyebrow. “Oh, so you just don’t want me to see your place?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. “Maybe Clay was right. What’s the verse about confession?”

His eyes darkened playfully. “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” It was mind boggling how he could probably quote the whole Bible and was as… sinful… as he was. “Bring up Dream again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

Your eyelashes fluttered. “You bargain for a fun game," you quipped.

He chuckled darkly. "It was more a light-hearted threat, dove," he muttered.

You sat forward and pressed your lips against his hungrily, letting him pull you into his lap as his fingers curled into the loose ends of your hair. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to you as he tugged at your own clothing. Your teeth dragged against his lips as his hips ground up against you, needy for friction.

You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moaning as his hands moved to your thighs, his blunt nails raking against your jeans. You rolled your hips against his lap, feeling him harden beneath you. He spread his legs further, coaxing you to grind against him as his hands pushed you down to rut against his leg.

You were breathless as you pulled away from him, one of his hands fisting in your t-shirt to bring you close to him, lips and tongue pressing against your neck. "I didn't tell you to stop riding my thigh," he commented darkly, bouncing his knee to make you moan.

Your hand wrapped around the wrist of his hand holding you in place, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as heat spread across your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, your bare chest at his mercy. Your mind blurred at the sensation and the feeling of him sucking his mark into your skin, making it clear who you belonged to.

You moaned, digging your face into his neck as he rolled his hips against your leg. "Please, Sapnap. I need you," you whimpered, voice a soft whisper in his ear. He chuckled darkly, ripping your pants down your legs as you fumbled to unzip his slacks.

He pulled you onto him without warning, a groan leaving your lips as he suddenly filled you up. "Bold of you to beg for me after associating with that bastard," he bit, thrusting up into you. "I should tie you up and let you suffer for that."

You moaned at his dark tone, grinding your hips against him. Your lips ghosted against his as your cheeks began to feel warm from the stimulation. "I might like that," you jested, your sentence breaking with your voice as he harshly grabbed your hips, driving himself into you harder.

"You're lucky you're still weak," he nipped, voice swirling with lust and power. "I'd throw you over my knee for that comment." His fingers dug into your hips, grinding against you as you bounced on top of him. You moaned at his words. His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, threatening to apply pressure as he continued to direct your movements, thrusting into you at a deep and reserved pace. "Dirty girl. You want me to punish you, don't you?"

When all you could do was mutter a small beg, he pulled you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a mess of hair, teeth, and tongue. He moaned into your mouth, the taste of his breath was addictive and bliss-inducing.

He pulled you off of him and onto the couch beside him, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. "I'll fuck the angel lover out of you," he joshed, a hand coming down sharply across your ass; the pain making you moan his name, hands gripping the couch as he pressed your shoulders into the cushion.

He dragged your hips into the air, pushing into you again, rocking his hips against yours with a small grunt. His teeth were sharp against your skin as he pounded into you and an animalistic pace, your mind numbing at the feeling. He pushed your knees further apart to pump himself deeper into you.

You moaned as his weight settled on the hand pinning you to the couch, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as he spanked you again, hand gripping your irritated skin. "Good girl. Take it," he nearly growled, making your skin crawl with an added layer of pleasure. While his pace and mannerisms were ruthless, he was definitely holding back, knowingly going easy on you because of your already weak body. That didn't mean he wasn't reminding you of your sour attitude as he pulled your arm behind your back, his hips snapping against your own to firmly instill his name in your mind.

You reached for the arm rest, a grounding element for you as his motions drove you over the edge in a teeth gritting orgasm, boy flushing with goosebumps under his command. You rocked your hips back against him as he pulled out, jerking himself off instead of giving you the satisfaction of finishing him off.

You groaned as you turned to look at him. "Feeling okay?" He asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. You shook your head quickly and his eyebrow quipped ever so slightly. "Good," he stated, pulling you up and onto the ground in front of him again. He grabbed your cheeks. "I still don't think you've learned," he muttered, leaning back into his previous position. "Blow me," he directed, tucking an arm behind his head. "And with the mouth, one confesses and is saved, remember," he taunted.

Your eyes flashed up to his devious expression as he leered at you from his commanding spot.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were ready for it.

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[lipstickstainz]

just a few days - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: There’s no denying that Spencer and you hate each other. What happens, when you are forced to spend a few days together?  Warnings: enemies to lovers, language, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), typical criminal minds stuff Word Count: 4.5k A/N: hello friends. this is my first one shot and I hope you like it. gif not mine.  

„I didn’t think you could be any more of a shithead, but you just proved me wrong.“

Many people believe in love at first sight. The heart starts racing, the knees go weak and you feel dizzy. You want to get to know the other person at all costs. Which is total bullshit, of course. You can't fall in love with someone at first sight. Interest, yes, but that's not love.

With Spencer and you it was different. The first time you met, you were breathless. Your muscles tensed to the breaking point, the blood pulsed in your ears, and your stomach turned. Only, in your case, it definitely wasn't love.

„I saw a trash bag on the side of the road today. Reminded me of you“, you shot back and Spencer rolled his eyes.

Hate at first sight really did exist, and Spencer and you were the prime example.

There was always a stupid comment, a scathing sideways glance, or catty laughter. Neither of you took it personally - why would you? You weren't interested in each other's opinions - and it didn't interfere with your work, which is why Hotch didn't say anything about it. It annoyed him, but he had also noticed that the quality of your work was higher when you were at each other's throats than when you worked separately.

You couldn't even remember why you had been so hostile to each other from the beginning. It was mutual antipathy, but no one knew why. You didn't know each other from anywhere else, had never met anywhere. Actually, you were someone who gave people a chance first to get to know them reasonably, but with Spencer it only took one look before you were sure you definitely didn't like him. Was it his aura? His charisma? His constant need to be smarter than everyone else?

At first, the two of you had been holding back. You had been professional with each other, staying out of each other's way as much as possible and not exchanging more words than necessary. Everything had been fine until one day something slipped out of Spencer's mouth. The team had been sitting in the conference room discussing the latest case. You had said something about the murder weapon when Spencer had rolled his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you had asked him, annoyed. Spencer sat up straight in his chair and grabbed the crime scene photo.

"I've never heard anything so stupid," he said, looking at you with amusement.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it," Hotch intervened. "We don't have time for bitching. JJ, inform the department we're on our way. Wheels up in thirty."

From that moment on, there was no turning back. You tried to belittle each other, but Hotch had forbidden you to relate it to work. Teasing and mean statements were allowed, but you were not allowed to get in the way of your work. And the most important thing: no arguing in front of outsiders. The team was used to it, but if others got wind of it, it would undermine your authority. So you had to pull yourselves together at times. Which was no problem.

Once inside the police department, Hotch divided the team. "Y/L/N, Reid, you'll go to the crime scene and examine the house for any abnormalities that might indicate motive," he said, and you looked at each other with disgust in your eyes. Hotch cleared his throat and gave you a look that said, "Get your act together or I'll send you home."

On the way to the scene, the radio was playing and you hummed the tune contentedly. You almost forgot who you were in the car with if Spencer hadn't suddenly turned off the radio. You made an annoyed noise.

"I wanted to hear that."

"I know," Spencer grinned, glancing at you briefly before looking out the window again. "And that's why I turned it off."

Sometimes you could strangle him.

The house was pretty run down from the outside. Spencer and you looked at each other. "If I had to hide your body somewhere, it would be right here," you grinned, walking toward the front door.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of killing me," he said, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "My death should have meaning. I'm not going to let someone like you kill me over that."

The interior of the house was in complete contrast to the exterior. Every room was cleaned and tidy, there was not a speck of dust anywhere, and the way magazines, pictures, and other decorations had been laid down indicated -.

"OCD," Spencer noted. "Look, Y/N. The magazines all have the same number of pages, the picture frames on the windowsill are all the same distance apart, and -" , he opened a cabinet in the kitchen, "the handles on the cups all point in the same direction."

"So the person has damage like yours," you said, surveying the pictures in the hallway. Luckily there were only two of you, or you would have had to stifle the comment.

"Ha. Ha. I don't have OCD."

"You still have some damage. Forensics said traces of bleach were found throughout the house," you added to his insight, walking down the hall. "The unsub cleaned and left everything like this."

"And how would you know that?" asked Spencer, who had followed you. In the ceiling in the hallway was the hatch that led you to the attic.

"The pictures in the hallway are not of the victim. They're printed photos of people from the Internet. There is no connection." You climbed the ladder and what awaited you there did not surprise you.  The attic was filled with junk. It seemed like everything had just been shoved in. But again, there was not a woolly mouse to be seen.

"Apparently, the unsub places a lot of importance on maintaining the appearance of orderly, clean living."

You nodded at him and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. "Garcia, please search for wealthy families where children have been hospitalized with broken bones, hematomas or other injuries," you said, and Spencer snatched the phone from your hand. Annoyed, you looked at him.

"Equate that to sports injuries again, please. Thank you," he asked her before hanging up and tossing you the phone.

"Sports injuries?" you asked him, and he nodded.

"No parents would take their child to the hospital with injuries like that without an explanation. Sports injury is a good way to disguise something like that," he explained and you left the loft. When you got back into the car, you looked at him.

"If you snatch that phone out of my hand again, you'll be the next one with a slit throat," you smiled sweetly at him.

Spencer laughed out loud. "You grow a few more inches first, then maybe you can get to my throat."

Back at the precinct, the team profiled him and shared it with detectives. The plan was to lure him out of hiding and hope he would say or do something so you could arrest him.

"Bailey is targeting young couples in their twenties and thirties who are still in the early stages of their lives. They all moved in together a few days before they died. They were all very messy, which showed not only in their apartment, but also in their style of dress," Rossi explained.

"That's why two of our team will go undercover to draw him out," Hotch continued, giving Spencer and you a meaningful look. You knew what that meant. And you weren't in the mood for that. "Agent Y/L/N and Doctor Reid will be moving into a house on the outskirts of town, in the exact area where the last victim was found. Since he likes to return to the scene of his crime, he'll take notice."

"And then what do we do?" the sheriff asked, writing diligently.

"He'll show up a few days later and then we can go get him," Emily brought the conversation to a close and the group broke up. Hotch motioned Spencer and you to come with him to an adjoining room.

"I blindsided you with the proposal, and for that I'm sorry," he said, looking from Spencer to you, "but I'm afraid we have no choice. Tomorrow morning you'll move into the house and then it's only a matter of time before he comes. Just a few days. And until then, please try not to kill each other."

Spencer and you had been sitting together all night, working out a plan. Not only did you have to pretend to be a happy couple in front of others, you had to pretend behind closed doors. And that certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"Spencer, I'm only going to ask you this once," you began. "Are you okay with me touching you? Otherwise, we'll have to figure something else out. You can't flinch when I reach for your hand or give you a kiss on the cheek, even if I don't want to do that myself."

"I can handle that," he grinned. "As long as you promise not to snuggle up to me in your sleep. Because then I'll have to vomit."

Hotch was pretty happy with your plan and wished you good luck. He didn't want to bug the house because you still needed privacy, but the whole team was on speed dial. Besides, the others would take turns watching you. You weren't afraid, but knowing the others were always there calmed you down a bit.

The next morning, Spencer and you drove to your house. It looked a lot like the last victim's house. One story and an attic, the front yard hadn't been tended in ages. Spencer parked the car in the driveway and got out first so he could open the door for you like a gentleman.

"Are you ready for our new life?" he smiled, pulling you into his arms before you headed toward the door. His perfume was so strong it clouded your mind.

"With you, I'm ready for anything," you returned, placing your lips on his cheek.

Living with Spencer was more pleasant than you had imagined. You spent most of your time together in silence, Spencer with a book and you with music or magazines. You didn't avoid each other either, but spent every second together. Spencer always helped you cook and you helped him do laundry. You even went shopping together. There were little spats in between, but otherwise you got along fine.

You also noticed some things about Spencer that had completely escaped your attention until now. For example, he always had several books lying next to him when he read one. Which made sense if he finished one of them within ten minutes. Also, he would always mouth off a little when he was talking about something that was bothering him. And when he was talking about something he liked, he spoke with an incredible passion that was contagious.

What surprised you the most was sleeping next to each other. Since you also had to pretend to be overjoyed at home, you had also planned to share a bed. It was the most sensible and the easiest. Spencer's presence even calmed you down when you woke up in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, and his regular breathing in the evening helped you fall asleep.

On the fourth night, a nightmare jolted you from sleep. You didn't remember what exactly you had dreamed, but you knew that you wouldn't fall asleep again so quickly. As quietly as you could, you got out of bed, not wanting to wake Spencer, and went to the kitchen. You flipped on the light over the stove, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. After a big gulp, you felt better, but still worried. Tired, you leaned against the counter and rubbed your hand over your face.

"Are you alright?" asked Spencer, entering the kitchen. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and boxers. Something you hadn't noticed before.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry," you said honestly, putting the glass in the sink. Spencer just smiled, "I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, standing next to you, you shook your head. "Okay." He was about to head back toward the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. Spencer looked at you and you smiled weakly. He approached you again and reached for your hand. Carefully he pulled you to him and put his free hand on your lower back to press you closer to him. You laid your head against his chest and could hear his heartbeat. Then Spencer slowly rocked back and forth.

No one said a word as you danced with each other in the kitchen in the middle of the night. You enjoyed each other's presence and warmth. Spencer put a finger under your chin and made you look at him. There was no hate or dislike in his eyes. There was a twinkle in them that confused you greatly. Gently, he placed his lips on your forehead before pulling away.

"Let's go back to sleep," he smiled, pulling you by the hand back into the bedroom. In bed, he reached his arms out to you so you could lay your head on his chest. There it was again, his heartbeat. But this time it was faster, steady, but faster. Spencer reached for your hand again and intertwined your fingers.  "Sleep well, Y/N," he was still whispering, but you were barely aware of it. You had never fallen asleep so quickly.

The next day, the two of you went for a walk in the evening. Spencer's hand in yours no longer felt strange, but very familiar. The whole relationship between you had changed fundamentally. There was no more bitching, no more evil glances, no more spiteful laughter. You wondered if it would stay that way when you left the house, or if you would go back to your old ways. Secretly, you hoped that you would remain friends when all this was over. Even though you had only been here a short time, you had actually grown fond of Spencer. You just hoped he felt the same way about you.

"Y/N," Spencer whispered when you reached your street.

"Huh?" You looked up at him and he smiled lovingly at you. You would never get enough of that look.

"Please look at me when I tell you this now. There's a man walking across the street, right at our level, with his hood pulled over his head," he continued to whisper and I tried not to let on. "He's been following us for two blocks. I think it's him."

I nodded. "We need to show him that we are to be his next victims," you stated. When you arrived at your house, Spencer pulled you even closer. You knew what was coming. You didn't resist, and not because it was part of your plan, but because you were waiting for it.

Spencer put his hands to your cheeks and leaned down to put his lips on yours. Your heart started racing, your knees went weak, and you felt dizzy. If Spencer hadn't been holding you, you would have slipped through his fingers. His lips were soft and warm and when you kissed him back, a grumble sounded from his chest. One of his hands moved to your butt, pressing your hips against his as he slid his tongue into your mouth. You felt hot and warm shivers ran down your spine. You tried not to think about the fact that you could feel his erection against your belly, but failed miserably.

With his other hand, Spencer reached for the key and opened the door without breaking away from you, then pushed you into the house where he could have pulled away from you, but he didn't. His kisses grew hungrier and greedier, his hands reaching under your butt so he could lift you up. Your legs knotted behind him. He carried you toward the bedroom and pressed you against the wall. You rubbed your hips against his and he moaned into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, sliding a hand under your shirt. His fingers danced over your bare skin and his touch burned into your skin. You wished this moment would never end.

"Cameron Bailey, put the knife down and raise your hands," Derek called out. Spencer and you jumped apart, completely confused and gasping for air, and saw the team standing in your bedroom. Derek took Bailey into custody and led him away. How had you not noticed that he had come into the house?

"Are you all right?" asked Emily, but you could only nod. What would have happened if Bailey hadn't broken in? How far would Spencer and you have gone?

It wasn't long before the team was back on the plane. Spencer sat alone at one end of the plane and you at the other. You hadn't had time to talk about what had happened, because after Bailey was arrested, you had packed your things and gone to the airport with the others. But what did you want to talk about? About the kiss? About the touch? About your friendship, if you could call it that? Never in your life had you been so uncertain as at that moment.

Spencer probably didn't want anything more to do with you, and you tried to tell yourself that you were okay with that. You tried to adjust to things going back to the way they were. It scared you that deep down you cared. You had hated Spencer for years and just a few days with him had completely turned your feelings upside down. And that bothered you the most.

"I could use a beer right now," Derek said when you arrived at Quantico. "Anyone coming?"

"I'm going home," you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "My shower is waiting for me and my bed is calling for me too."

"Same here," Spencer gave and together you walked to the elevator while the others talked about where to go to celebrate. The silence between Spencer and you was unbearable, both outside the elevator and inside. You wanted to say something, but couldn't manage more than a guarded smile, which he kindly returned. At least no more bitching.

"Good night, Y/N," he said goodbye and left without turning around once more. You took a deep breath and headed home as well.

Once home, you dropped your bag on the floor and tried to wash off Spencer's touch in the shower. You brushed your teeth to scrub his taste from your tongue, but nothing could chase away the thoughts that haunted your mind. You put on fresh panties and an oversized shirt, which ended just below your butt. You were on your way to the couch when there was a knock on your door.

Without hesitation you opened the door and your heart stopped. Spencer stood in front of you, hands buried in his pockets and a small smile on his lips. "Hi."

"Hey," you said softly, and you didn't realize until then that you were standing in front of him half-naked. Embarrassed, you pulled the hem of your shirt down further. He glanced briefly at your hands and blushed before looking you in the eye again.

"I know this probably sounds stupid, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep alone tonight. I've gotten used to sleeping next to you and after today, I don't think either of us should spend the night alone," he babbled, entering your apartment without prompting. You shut the door behind him. "Besides, there's something I wanted to do." Carefully he put his bag on the kitchen counter and came towards you with long steps.

It was not five seconds before he pressed his mouth on yours and a sigh came out of your mouth. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so greedily they moved over your body, while yours got caught in his hair. When his fingers grazed your bare skin on your legs, you slumped against him.

"I didn't want to let you go home alone," he whispered between kisses, looking deep into your eyes. "I didn't want to sit so far away from you on the plane either, and when I got home, all I wanted was to be with you." His tongue dominated yours as his hands slid under your shirt. Your skin burned like fire where he touched you. "Tell me to stop, Y/N. Please tell me to stop and leave. Because if you don't do it now, I'll stay forever."

You went to kiss him, but he broke away from you and grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. He was expecting a response. "Stay, Spencer. Stay forever and I'm yours."

That's all the confirmation he needed. His hands were on your hips again, but moved further down to briefly stroke your ass before leaning down and grabbing the back of your thighs. Without effort, he lifted you up and his lips assaulted your neck, and as he sucked on the soft spot where your jaw met your neck, all you could do was whimper his name.

Spencer carried you into your bedroom with ease, his mouth never leaving your heated skin. The warmth in your body grew with each kiss as he gently laid you on the bed.  You pushed yourself to the head of the bed, allowing your head to rest on the soft pillow as Spencers hovered over you to kiss your neck.

His lips moved to your collarbone, his hands slid under your shirt and you arched up to meet him so he could easily pull it off. Hastily you reached for his shirt and undid the buttons to rip it from his torso. His weight was heavy on you and his hot skin almost burned you with every further touch. Without a word, you unbuttoned his pants and he kicked them off his long legs. For a brief moment you looked at each other. In that look were all the apologies you wanted to say, but that was no longer important. What was important was the man in front of you, the man you had fallen head over heels in love with in just a few days.

You put your hands on Spencer's back and felt the muscles dancing under your fingers. You took a quick glance at his black boxer briefs, which already seemed a little too tight for him.

"God, you're beautiful," he moaned as he glanced down your body. His hands were on your breasts and he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Again, you arched up to meet him.

"Spencer," you moaned, "no teasing. Please," you begged, closing your eyes to feel his touch more intensely. When you opened your eyes again, you could see a crooked grin on his face. He was enjoying your begging. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your panties and you could hear him ripping them. Cool air met your hot core and Spencer's boxers landed on the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You had to swallow. He was long and surprisingly thick and you wondered if he would fit. Spencer looked at you silently with raised eyebrows.

"I'm on the pill," you explained, grabbing his shaft with your hand and running your thumb over the tip to smear the pre-cum, making him moan with pleasure. You pumped him two times before Spencer grabbed your wrist.

"I won't last long if you keep this up, love," he rasped, guiding his pulsing erection to your wet entrance. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him so close to you that there wasn't an inch between you. He looked at you one more time, searching for something in your face, but you just smiled at him, drunk with love. And then he glided home.

His cock was stretching you like no man before did and it almost hurt, but with the pain came the pleasure. Spencer rested his forehead on yours and his breath was hot on your skin. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his gentle touch.

"Move, please, Spence," you purred, and that was all he needed. He withdrew almost completely from you before thrusting into you again. He quickly found a steady pace and his length stroked all the right places. The heat between your thighs spiraled in your belly and you dug your nails into Spencer's back.

"Spencer, fuck," you breathed and he grinned before pressing his lips to your throat and gently biting your collarbone. Before you knew it, he was sliding his hand between your bodies and rubbing furiously over your clit and it was all getting too much for you.

Your nails raked across his skin and certainly left a few marks on as you climaxed and your vision went black.You spasmed around his cock and felt it twitch inside you.  Spencer moaned a mixture of swear words and your name as he coated your walls with his cum, his fingers digging into your hips and probably bruising them.

He placed his lips on yours one last time before carefully pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. "Careful, love," he says softly, running it along between your legs to wipe your mingled cum. When he touched your sensitive clit, you flinched involuntarily. He returned the washcloth to the bathroom before lying back down with you. He pulled you to him and kissed your forehead. "Can I tell you something?" he breathed, you looked up at him quite exhausted.

"Of course."

He smiled lovingly. "I've fallen head over heels in love with you in the last few days," he confessed and your heart stopped. "The moment you laid your head on my chest in bed. You turned my whole world upside down and I can't imagine spending a single day without you anymore."

"You don't have to," you replied, putting your hand to the back of his head so you could pull him down to you. Gently you placed your lips on his and you felt his cock twitch against your belly. That's how strong your effect on him was. "I love you, Spencer."

In one fluid motion, he rolled onto you and pressed his mouth onto yours. This kiss was like the one in the house, angry, hungry and greedy. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers gently circled your clit. Your legs twitched and he pushed further down so he was eye level with your cunt. Gently he slid two fingers inside you and you moaned loudly. "I love you, Y/N. Don’t you dare forget it, when I make you scream and cum around my tounge.“ He licked long stripe from your entrance to your clit and gently sucking on it. Your body shook under his tounge and touch, as he slipped to fingers into your dripping cunt again. „Are you ready for round two?"

[bastillia]

Loyalties Lie

AO3 Mirror

Summary: You're a bartender in a Lothal cantina, living a quiet life in the Outer Rim after the fall of the Empire. You can't help but wonder what more might be out there for you. One dangerous guest in particular keeps catching your eye. Unfortunately, you've also caught his.

Rating: E

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: possibly mild dubcon, threats with a weapon, rough sex, verbal degradation, mentions of alcohol, cumplay, Boba Fett has a 24oz monster can dick and he knows how to use it.

A/N: Remember when I said I had a Boba Fett WIP laying around like, months ago? Well guess who showed up in Mando S2 with a sexy dad bod and the fattest dick in the galaxy to overhaul my dreams and make them a reality. Fuck me. Yes this is the first thing I’ve written in months hi I’m still here. No I don’t know how many chapters this will be. I live in hell. Welcome. Thank you to @kylorengarbagedump​ for graciously beta reading and listening to me literally scream about this man all the time. Love y’all so much PLEASE ENJOY.

**

It’s the kind of night that hums. 

Like a moonlit Lothal prairie, quiet and alive somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Except that in here, the crickets swoop past your bar to buy shots, and the stars fall steadily to become the lovely tink of credits in your tip jar. The twin moons are shifting hues of neon light, and time seems to stroll by, like it has nowhere better to be.

Tonight has been steady. 

It’s not busy enough tonight to challenge you, but not slow enough to let you rest. Your guard is up, as it always is when you’re behind the bar. But your hold on it can afford to be loose. 

Tonight has been…

Boring. 

No brawls, no assassinations, not even a drunken paw fumbling across the bar towards your tits, attached to some overly rowdy patron who you then get to watch with quiet glee as they’re dragged out by the ears. No, in fact, it’s hard to remember the last time something remotely interesting happened around here. So much for the Outer Rim’s rugged reputation. You hate to say you miss the Empire’s occupation from time to time. But at least it brought nightly intrigue.

Tonight, your guests are especially calm and happy, lulled by liquor and the easy flow of conversation, murmurs blending like a stream through the grassland. And you suppose you shouldn’t complain. You’ve more than earned your keep for the night, and then some. Best of all, your boss has no reason to be breathing down your neck. 

In fact, he’s happy, too, you note when the Lasat’s bellowing business-laugh resounds overtop a few flutes of spotchka, glowing inside a booth across the room. You pass a cloth around the rim of a clean glass, feeling a tickle of interest as to who he might be schmoozing this time. When you glance up, you can just make out a pair of well-dressed Rodians seated across from him through the leisure-thick air of the cantina, nudging each other and laughing at whatever witty, schmoozy thing he just said. 

A soft snort puffs through your nose. At least Dakk is a predictable man, if nothing else. Must be rich folk, probably well connected. Good. You’ll get no help tonight, but at least he will be occupied for a while.

In fact...

Flicking a quick glance around the room, you take your chance and shrug your outer tunic off your shoulders, quickly smoothing down your much more revealing undershirt until it clings to the shape of you. You know Dakk hates when you do this, always goes on about keeping the place “classy.” But he’s not looking, and if it puts a few extra credits in your jar by the end of the night, it’s worth it. Anyway, you’re in a good mood tonight. Bored nonetheless, and the combination always forges a mischievous kind of boldness in you; a tiny spark that glows just bright enough to cast the idea of consequence in shadow.

You scan the bar for an empty drink, a flirtatious urge rolling off of your freshly bared skin and filling your ribs with air. It’s not long before you hone on your target-- an unsuspecting guest sitting alone, head turned away. Probably eavesdropping. A smirk curves your lips and you sidle over, plink a glass down between you, leaning your elbows on the bartop. 

“Something else for you, sugar?”

His head whips around with a guilty swiftness, but you just offer an easy smile, shifting your weight through your hips to coax his eyes down your body. It works like a charm.

“I, uh...“ The young Mirialan stammers directly at your tits. “Yeah, c-can I, ah…” 

As you wait out his struggle, an idea sparks in your freshly emboldened mind. Maker’s sake, might as well help the poor thing out. 

“Got a ruge liqueur in stock, last shipment off Alderaan. Rare these days.” Your lashes flutter, tongue just barely playing your along your lower lip as if teasing some unspoken promise. “I just couldn’t help but notice, you seem like a person of exceptional taste.”

The words are warm summer air on your tongue, practiced and enticing. You can see them go to the kid’s head like spice smoke, his cheeks immediately flushing deep emerald beneath diamond-shaped tattoos. 

“Y-yeah?” He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly. “I mean...yeah! I, uh, I am. That s-sounds great, yeah. Um. Please.”

You smile. Too easy. 

Now, it’s not technically a lie. You do have the ruge in stock, it’s just that--well, it’s definitely nothing this kid can afford. But you’d bet a week’s worth of tips that you can slip him a cheap offworld varietal instead. Charge him triple its price, pocket the excess. Poor thing wouldn’t know the real stuff if it bit him.

You swell with the thought. That amount might even let you buy something nice for yourself for once. It might be a little slimy, but... fuck it. Kid seems well off enough. Decently nice clothes, cologne, that misplaced air of belonging that comes with sheltered entitlement. Surely he won’t miss a few extra credits. Anyway, you deserve this, right?

Moving to speak again, you prepare to lay the flirting on thick, really sell the gambit. But before you get the chance, a loud bang snaps your attention upward just in time to see the cantina door slam open. 

You straighten where you stand, irritation and curiosity pricking your ears in equal measure. But then a slight hush cuts the ease of your buzzing meadow, and your chest squeezes with it.

Boba Fett.

The hunter takes up almost the whole doorway, a broad tower of matte green beskar catching the soft neons of the cantina. The distinctly cold gaze of the Mandalorian helmet scans the room, stirring murmurs and averting eyes until it comes to rest, finally, upon you.

It feels like two cold weights set down on your shoulders, being the focus of that stare. 

Even as the energy picks back up around you, as conversations cautiously resume, it’s like you’re trapped in it, breathless under its weight and unable to look away. You vaguely register the Mirialan turn back to your tits and ask them something about when your shift ends. But you’re still transfixed, watching the armored man take a few deliberate steps towards the bar and straddle a stool, the visor trained like a crosshair upon you as his forearms settle on the bartop.

You’ve seen him here before. Heard his name whispered in weighted ripples ever since news spread through the Outer Rim that Bib Fortuna was dead. Since then, he’s come through maybe once every few dozen cycles, each time with a couple new chips in the paint of his armor. He comes here on business--or at least you assume that’s what it must be, since he always meets someone, speaks in hushed tones enshrouded by the dim corner booth in the back. He’ll toss a few credits on the bar when he leaves, but has never uttered a word to you, never ordered a drink.

Never even glanced your way, for all you know. Until right now. 

You swallow. Fucking hell, if there’s anything you’re used to, it’s being looked at. So why is this gaze kicking your pulse up into the base of your throat, making you feel exposed? A prickle of heat is already settling in your cheeks.

And then the visor cocks, and just barely tilts down the length of your figure. 

A tight breath snaps into your lungs, and your eyes dart to the bartop, across the room, back to the Mirialan still babbling dumbly at you, your face now hot. Kriff, what is wrong with you? Since when are you outright flustered by some stranger copping an eyeful? You try to breathe, ignoring how the hairs stand on your neck.

But you can still feel his attention like the heat of a sun warming your bare shoulder, and it makes something start to coil in your belly and glow there.

“I’ll have that ruge right up, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you interrupt the kid, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just calls out a stammered thank-you as you pivot away towards your new guest, your heart kicking against your sternum. Your feet almost feel weighted to the floor, and by the time you reach him, your pulse has an edge like a blade. 

“Something I can interest you in?” 

There’s a breathlessness to the warm air of your voice now, and you pray to the Maker that it doesn’t betray you. You lean against the bar, hoping that the solidity of the wood will somehow teach your nerves to follow its example. It doesn’t. 

He seems to study you for a moment, motionless. And then his shoulders shift, his elbows widen, and he leans in towards you.

“Information.” His voice is low and direct, barely above a graveled whisper, the single accent-laden word dragging through your belly and sparking like metal on stone.

Fuck.

Of course he’s after the one thing you’re not willing to sell.

Your heart stalls while your mind starts to race, eyes searching the dark visor. Of course you’d be a fool to deny him, and he knows it. That’s why he’s asking you. Why would you risk rousing a scene in your own bar, especially when the night is so mercifully calm? Easier to give him what he wants. Tap into your collection of liquor-loosened secrets, and knowledge of the local crowd.

The thing is, you’ve built a good rapport for your discretion. You think. Not to mention the number of cutting warnings Dakk has laid on you about the consequences for selling secrets in his bar. Is it really worth risking? Fett intimidates you, no doubt. But he’s also banking on the assumption that you won’t make this difficult for him. He has to be. And now unease and excitement are starting to play a game of catch between your ribs with that tiny, dangerous spark of boldness.

“Fresh out.” Your fingers drum the wood beneath them, trying to ground your reflexes through the rush of adrenaline that accompanies your words. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you stare into the blackness of the visor as you let the tiniest, playful smirk flit over your face.  “Perhaps something to drink?”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Boba Fett settles back on the bar stool. Unease lances you, splintering with the immediate question of whether you just made the right choice. You don’t want to think about how many he’d manage to kill before you could even blink, if he decided to do something extreme. His hand starts to shift back along his thigh, drawing a path towards the blaster at his hip. You swallow, panic pricking your neck.

Just as your muscles are primed to dive behind the bar, convinced you’re going to have to evade his quickdraw, his palm just takes a lazy rest on the hilt. The helmet levels, and then leans slowly to the side. 

“No.” 

Dizzied, you blink. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking through that helmet, and he’s offered you all of two words. But was that… amusement, you heard? No. Anger? Fuck, now you’re really imagining things.

Still a little breathless, you straighten, sensing that you’re dismissed. The thought of flirting with a killer was a much-needed rush, but you need to take his indifference as a mercy after that little stunt and get on with your job while he’s giving you the chance. What little you apparently have left of a survival instinct is at least telling you that much.

You shrug. 

“Suit yourself.”

It feels dangerous to take your eyes off of him. But you force yourself to do so anyways, turning your back on the hunter and making your way to the dim doorway at the end of the bar, his attention still heating your spine. 

It’s a fucking relief to slip through the door to the storage room, ease the door shut behind you, and for the first time in what feels like moons, you let a long breath fill your lungs. The familiar scent of dust and wine-aged wood floods you, and something like disappointment tugs at your heart.

Maybe that stupid, adventure-craving side of your imagination took things too far, fueled by your boredom and the prospect of something exciting finally happening. You suppose you projected that naive hope onto Boba Fett, if nothing else just because he’s the first person to come through here in a long time that actually intrigues you. That confounds your prized, finely-calibrated radar for reading people without having to speak a word to them.

Fuck, he really wouldn’t give you much more than a word, would he? Guess he’s determined to keep scrambling your sensors. It shouldn’t deject you as much as it does. But...  come on, the least the son of a mudscuffer could do is flirt back if he was gonna fucking undress you with his eyes like that. 

Or maybe that was just your imagination, too. 

You sigh, scanning a shelf on the back wall for a ruge that will make a convincing enough dupe. A synthetic varietal, perhaps. No--too cheap. You’ve got something from a Naboo vineyard in here somewhere. Anyways, whatever, since when are you desperate for any man’s attention?

No, okay, it’s... you know that isn’t what this is really about. 

It would just be nice to feel important, is all. Like the secrets you’ve gathered might be worth something. Could someday give you a place in something bigger. Or at least like anything about you might be worth more than equivalent to a shot of shitty spotchka. 

Forget it. As if that will ever happen.

Your finger absently traces the dusty label of a bottle, and then a soft clink of metal behind you freezes your blood. 

You whip around to meet a wall of beskar, inches from your face.

You start to scream, but the sound catches in your throat when a big hand seizes you by the back of the neck and wrenches you around, bending you at the hips and slamming you chest-down against the stale wood of a storage crate. Cold metal presses your thighs and your heart smacks your ribs, your body completely trapped under Boba Fett’s mass in one motion. 

“I said I need information, little one, and you’re going to give it to me.” His voice scrapes over your body, sliding through the dim room like the shadow from a candle flame. You quail beneath him, brain racing with shock.

“I d-don’t—ugh!” The weight of his forearm comes down between your shoulder blades, pressing breathy little grunts from your lungs as you squirm. “I don’t sell out my customers.”

You freeze when the distinct click of a blaster registers right at your temple. 

“Never said I was buying.”

Panic zips down your spine, your chest heaving against the wooden crate as heat slams your core. Somewhere, your rational brain is scrambling to parse the threat, but something about the sheer filth and danger of it is setting your whole body on fire, making far more primal nerves come alive. Trying to shake the feeling, you squirm.

“At lea--ngh, least nothing’s changed there.”

Fucking hell, what are you doing? Besides sassing the known murderer with a blaster currently trained at your head, alone in a dark room. Yet somehow that very fact is making arousal bloom so wicked and fast that you can already start to feel your cunt throb against the fabric of his pants. 

“Willing to die to protect a few spineless slime crawlers who don’t even know your name?” Boba rocks his weight against you, powerful and lazy in the way he simply leans into his hips, grinds them up hard against your ass to keep you flattened over the edge of the crate. “Boss man lines his pockets while his good little pet works for scraps.” Air feels more scarce to your lungs by the second. “Interesting, how your loyalties lie.”

Indignance flares up your spine.

“I w-ouldn’t expect you to understand.” You try to put venom in the words, but it’s difficult between your breathlessness and the sheer eroticism of this position you’re in. “Small price to pay, f-for a good life.”

Through your annoyance, you can’t help feeling a twinge of enjoyment at his solidity, at how you can just discern the outline of him through his pants. An excited thrum of your pulse snaps to your core like a fuse.

Above you, Boba Fett chuckles.

“Is that what he gives you?” There’s a mockery to his tone that heats your blood, and you start to squirm in defiance before remembering the blaster at your temple. Fett simply crushes you harder, drawing your attention back to his crotch. “Seems to me like you’re the mouse in his attic.”

“I suppose you’re better than him? Than any of them?” you immediately bite, not wanting to acknowledge the truth behind his words. Instead, you grab that spark of bravery and crank the voltage until it drowns your doubt, throwing your caution to the stars faster than punching an airlock in hyperspace. “Do you even know m-my name, Mando?” A tiny giggle ripples your chest. “I know yours.”

“Might be the last one you know,” Boba growls, but you’re becoming fixated on his cock now, the way you could swear that it’s growing more distinct by the second.

Fear and pleasure wrack your brain, the combination intensifying so deliciously with the pressure of his groin against your ass that you can hardly think straight any more. In a moment of sick indulgence, you arch your back and shift just slightly, wanting to feel that pressure against something now pulsing and sensitive. 

The grip on your neck locks tight, and your breath stops. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, princess.” 

He kicks your legs apart and crushes his hardening bulge against your pussy. And, fuck, you moan. You don’t even mean to, but the thrill of helplessness has you so mindlessly turned on that you can’t stop the noise from squeezing out of your throat.

“Filthy little thing you are.” 

There’s a shift in his tone now. The vice hold disappears from your nape just before your pants are wrenched unceremoniously over your ass and down to mid thigh. You gasp at the feeling of air brushing your bare lips. He takes a moment, and you think he must be looking at you. Heat blossoms from your face all the way down to your chest, and then he’s against you again, a palm coming down between your shoulders as coarse fabric presses flush with your cunt. 

You can really feel the outline of his cock now, hard enough to rival his armor but warm and thick against you, and you whimper. It’s only a click that snaps your awareness back to the weapon pointed at your head. 

“Let’s try this again, little mouse.” Boba’s voice comes lower and airier through the vocoder now in a way that blazes right through you. “You give me what I want, and perhaps you’ll inspire my generosity.”

In emphasis of his intent, he rocks his erection against the cleft of your pussy. Your eyes snap wide, an almost painful stab of arousal making you immediately whine louder than you intend to. “Fuck--oh, please!”

“Careful.” His hand slides up your neck, angling your face so that he can see it twist in shame and pleasure. “Wouldn’t want anyone finding you like this.”

Your cheeks blaze. Shallow breaths stutter in your lungs as his thumb tugs the pillow of your lower lip. And then he releases you, his hand moving back somewhere you can’t sense. The pressure against your ass shifts for a moment, just before the wide, hot shaft of his bare cock caresses your cunt.

“Last night there was a man here, Mon Cala, middle aged.” Your body is on fire as he speaks, the skin to skin contact dousing your brain in blind want. You grit your teeth, screw your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on what he’s saying while your pussy twinges around nothing. “He talked to the owner here, then he met with someone. Tell me who.”

A reluctant whimper leaves your lips, and the noise might just be one of the most pathetic you’ve ever made as your tongue still stubbornly refuses to slip. But Fett’s words ring again through your head with a resentful pang: the mouse in his attic. Is that what you’ll die as?

At your temple, the blaster’s safety disengages.

“Fuck! Okay, okay.” Your breath comes heavily, brain uncertain and lust-addled, fumbling for the details. “He um. Met a--mmh, a woman, I d-didn’t catch her name. Please--” Your voice trails off in a soft whine, your hips shifting back, trying to find the means to swallow his cock where it teases your tender core, entice him with the diversion now that you’ve given him a crumb.

“You must be dumber than I took you for, sweetling.” His hips retreat slightly, evading you. The sheer display of restraint is infuriating, electrifying. It shallows your breath with need. He stills again, a rough, gloved hand running firmly up your spine, pushing your shirt up to bare more of your skin to his view. “Tell me the rest.”

Your teeth set with a final, feeble whine of hesitation. More instinct than anything. But then a cold ring of metal presses your temple, and fresh fear unbinds your tongue in a deluge.

“S-she had, ah--civilian clothes, but, um… an Imperial s-standard issue blaster.” Your eyes screw in concentration, details flickering like a glitchy holocom through your brain. “I heard them talk about, uh. A shipment. For… Fuck, uh. Th-three cycles from now.”

Boba hums, a sound that makes your eyes roll back as you feel yourself nearly dripping against him, your slick coating his cock where it just barely parts you.

“Smart girl.” His hand drags indulgently down your back, coming to rest on your hip and squeezing. “Where’s the shipment going, princess?”

Torture. This is some kind of galactic war crime, you’re sure of it. Pleasure surges from your teased cunt and his grip on your flesh, and his voice is almost soothing now, coaxing you further towards complacency. It’s all too much. Your head rests against the crate, defeat washing in a gentle tide over you. 

“Going... to Hosnian Prime.”

A soft, satisfied puff of noise comes from the modulator. The barrel retreats from your temple. 

“Now, there’s a good girl.”

Warmth crashes through your lower belly, a strange and exhilarating sensation that suddenly makes you want to... purr? No one has ever spoken to you like this, and it’s tickling a part of your brain that feels far, far too good. But then his cock glides thick and heavy along your folds, obliterating your thoughts, and all you can think about is having that inside of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as he slowly aligns himself, teasing up and down the drenched, tender flesh of your pussy. He takes his time, massaging the blunt head over your clit and sending little shocks through your muscles, making you shiver and clench. “Please, please…” 

“Tame little creature when you want to be,” he grits, pressing against your entrance with an exhaled groan. “Keep being good for me.” 

Slowly, he starts to push. And, oh, fuck.

You’re not ready. 

You’re wetter and needier than you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re still not fucking ready to take a cock like this one when it crushes in and stretches you, setting an ache through your hips that tells you whatever happens, you’re bound to feel him for days. 

A cry sticks in your throat and you will yourself to breathe, to relax as he sinks in further, forcing your walls to flutter and part around him. It truly feels like being broken open, and your fingers have to dig into the wood beneath you when he pulls out an inch and then pushes again, sinking deeper this time as a choked noise pulls through the vocoder.

By the time he finally bottoms out, you swear you can feel him shifting your guts. Every muscle in your pelvis is straining to take him, the intensity mind-numbing already. You’re nearly choking on your own attempts to breathe while he pauses, sheathed like this for a few moments, seeming to concentrate on his own breathing at the same time. 

And then his voice comes again, a growl, pitched even lower and more ferocious than before through a clutched breath. 

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing.” 

Stars.

This is different.

It’s so hard to think, you’ve never felt more full, but something in the back of your mind is unfurling, turning hot and primal with a roiling kind of need that burgeons and begs at the feeling of his cock rooted so fucking deep inside of you. You’ve had sex before, sure, but this…

You’re about to get fucked. 

“Please…” you mewl. Desperation pierces you when you feel his fingers flex strong and firm around your hip in response. You turn your head, trying to glimpse him--only to realize that the blaster is still right next to your face, its angle nonchalant, close enough to brush your lips. 

Your mind is so drenched in lust, the first urge that strikes you is to stick out your tongue and wet the metal, its sharp alloy piercing your senses and making your pussy seize with the shudder of danger.

In your periphery, you see the visor snap to attention, like he wasn’t fully looking at you before, lost in his own pleasure. But now he is. And he gives the weapon an experimental twist, allowing for your lips to wrap, delicate and wet, just around the tip of the barrel.

“Fearless little mouse.” There’s something dark and charged in his voice. “You look good like that.”

A slight wiggle to open your jaw, and the blaster shoves past your lips, resting thick and cold on your tongue, lighting your spine with a new thrill. Your voice swells on a muffled moan around it, such a soft and lovely sound to accompany a thing that’s orchestrated countless deaths. 

“There we are. Nice and quiet now.” 

Finally, finally, he starts to thrust, slow and measured, forcing your body to yield around the width of him. Something burns hot in your belly with each steady stroke, wiping your brain of everything but his presence.

The rough material of a glove smothers one of your asscheeks, grips and pulls at the pillowy flesh, spreading you open as his thrusts take up a steady, powerful rhythm. Boba Fett lets out a long groan, and you can only imagine the view he has right now. It sears you alive, the knowledge that he likes looking at you like this, pitching and whimpering with his rhythm, the sight of your pussy stretched, helpless around his cock and your mouth wetting his blaster. 

Your spit slicks the barrel more with every thrust, and you can feel the mechanics shifting dangerously between your lips. But his trigger finger is steadier than death, and his control gives you the nerve to let your tongue lick out along the barrel, bathe in the electric wash of fear that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarls as his pace starts to kick up wilder. 

Intense pleasure cracks through you now, visceral in a way you’ve never felt, and it’s all you can do to keep relatively quiet. The barrel on your tongue is a sharp enough reminder, yet it fuels your arousal to burn hotter and wetter all the same. The more you concentrate on the powerful bliss coiling in your core and rippling outwards, the more you can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, your body yearning vaguely towards a release it can’t seem to center on.

You hear him groan as you squeeze him, his grip on your flesh flexing and shifting. A few more strong thrusts, and then his cock pulls all the way out of you with a woeful pang, the blaster vacating your mouth in the same motion to leave you empty, dizzied and clenching. But before you can unscramble your brain, the blaster slots back into its holster and he’s moving you. With an effortless kind of control, he flips you over, shifting you until the solid wood of the crate supports your ass.

He hikes both of your legs onto one shoulder and in one swift, easy motion, whisks your pants over your shoes and off of your ankles, tossing them carelessly into the darkness of the room before hooking your legs around his armored waist.

“Going to watch you cum, princess. Nice and pretty.”

Your mouth opens on a gasp at his words, and a gloved thumb immediately presses your tongue, the taste of leather and plasma residue grounding your senses enough to register that he’s lining his cock back up at the heat of your entrance. You whine around his thick digit, and he growls somewhere low in his chest as he pushes the thick head back in, this new angle making you see stars all over again. 

He doesn’t bother letting you adjust this time, just uses your wetness to his advantage to start railing through your tightness, burning and stretching you as that warm swell starts to crest again. It’s such a deep, full feeling, spreading a delicious ache from the spot where he hits you deep in your tummy. 

Your brows draw together, your whines pitching higher as you search the visor. It’s a wordless plea, your vision swallowed by the power of him fucking you deep, your body now screaming to cum but needing something you can’t quite pinpoint.

The hunter’s thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand forging an eager path down your body. He palms your tit over your shirt, before grabbing the low collar and yanking it down, baring your nipples to his view one after the other. His whole hand spans your torso as he hooks the lower hem with his thumb, bunching the material until both your belly and tits are bare, your shirt like a handle at your diaphragm that he uses to pound you even harder, watching your body jolt, overpowered by his thrusts.

Airy little wails brush through your lips, the pleasure all too intense and not enough at the same time. You can’t take it anymore, you need something on your clit, and your fingers twitch to seek out that precious target. But he’s already moving, his hips slowing to a lazier pace while his free hand finds some destination at his belt, and what he produces freezes you in your tracks.

“Steady now,” he breathes as he slips a long blade out of his belt and spins it by the hilt, his fingers almost too quick, too tactful for such a brute. 

Instinctual panic grips you at the sight of the weapon, making your legs try to close. But he’s pushed too deep in you, his frame has you pinned open, and there’s nothing you can do against the sheer breadth of his body. Powerless, you simply whimper.

“Wh… what are y--”

“Hush, princess.” 

A flick of his thumb and the vibroblade springs to life, its hum filling the quiet air. He starts to bring the blunt hilt of it down where your body yields to his. Alarm pierces you one final time, but then he touches the pommel, just barely, against the tender swell of your clit.

You want to fucking scream. As if in anticipation of this, he claps his hand over your mouth just in time for you to bite down on his glove while your eyes roll back in a powerful wave of ecstasy. The vibrations surge through the sensitive nerves, lighting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure bliss, and then a low, long growl slips through the helmet’s modulator at the feeling of your walls pulsing tight, strangling his cock. 

His thrusts deepen again, powerful and steady, stroking some devastating spot deep inside you. Your muffled wails get lost in the breath-dampened fabric of his glove while the intense pleasure crests from your clit, higher, higher, lasering in on that intangible cusp and barreling you straight towards it.

You suspend at the peak, all senses failing, and then your orgasm takes you in a riptide, surging through your nerves like liquid fire. The magnitude of it rends you, stronger than you’ve ever felt, dragging you under and forcing you to ride it out while it just pulls and pulls. By the time you regain your sight you’re shaking, waves of bliss still pulsing and crashing through your body in time to the strong rhythm of his hips, the glowing epicenter that unwavering vibration at your clit. 

Sobs wrack your chest, pour out high and lose themselves somewhere in the meat of his hand, and you think you try to catch a few breaths, but you can’t even come down. Boba’s voice cuts through the rush in your ears.

“Good. Good girl.” 

He holds the buzzing hilt of the blade impossibly steady against your clit and that glow is still so bright, twitching, starting to spill through your nerves again and holy shit you think you just might--

“Again.”

Your second orgasm shreds you like a plasma cannon.

You’re blind, numb to everything but the intense pleasure, nerves now as raw and sharp as the edge of the blade itself. His hand is tight over your face and you feel your cunt convulsing and gushing around his cock, slick cum spilling to wet your asscheeks, and it must be your own because his pace hasn’t let up. 

A clatter resounds on the edge of your consciousness and when your eyes come into focus, Boba’s hand is locking into your waist, the blade discarded somewhere in the room. His hips piston hard with a few vulgar slaps of flesh, the head of his cock crushing against your deepest parts before he wrenches out of you and spills over your bare stomach with a strangled roar, gripping himself at the base and thrusting against you as warm, thick ropes paint your skin.

His release is long. Grunts distort into rough static through the vocoder as he rides out the last pulses, until finally he braces himself on the crate beside your head, hunched over you like a beast, his chest plate rolling with heavy breaths. You can only blink at him through hazed, damp eyes, your body feeling weak and utterly fucked dumb. The hand over your mouth slowly unlocks its grip, dragging downwards and leaving you to take shallow gulps of air while he gives your tit a deliberate squeeze. 

And then he drags himself off of you, straightening with an almost-concealed groan as he adjusts himself and leaves you to blink at the dark ceiling, still letting oxygen find your brain. 

When you shakily manage to sit up, you just glimpse him slipping the discarded vibroblade back into his belt and turning towards the door. Even through your dizziness, you scoff. Figures. Bastard is just going to fuck your brains out and then leave you like this.

“You know,” you sigh, watching him and lazily trailing your fingers in a circle on your tummy, enjoying the lingering buzz of your skin and gathering a bit of his spend where it coats you, still warm. “I’d say that tip-off was at least worth a handful of credits in my jar on your way out.”

He turns and looks at you then, the helmet cocking in consideration for a moment. As soon as his attention is on you, your fingers move from his mess on your belly to your mouth, where you slowly suckle him off of your fingers, never once taking your eyes off the visor, a tiny ripple of playfulness wiggling your shoulders and curling your lips.

His shoulders square to you, and that hunter’s stance still makes your chest seize, sends a pulse to your exhausted pussy.

Metal clinks softly as he walks towards you, stepping between your knees until you’re forced to drop your hand from your mouth and look up at him, heart fluttering again. He brushes the knuckle of his forefinger under your chin.

“Fresh out.”

His back turns as you stare, speechless. And then the door swings on its hinges, and Boba Fett is gone.

[pinkliquorstyles]

Depravity.

Warnings: dirty talk, a sprinkle of smut, alcohol use, angst, and a whole lot of teasing.

A/n: oh, how I’ve missed writing. 

Harry craved control.

He always had some sort of power over everything in his life, onstage and off, Harry was always in control. He had a plan for every situation and a solution to every problem. He hated to be caught off guard, and it was only when he lacked that authority over his life when you could sense him falter.

So, you could imagine how Harry felt when he heard about a last-minute, extravagant party, made to celebrate his achievements and mass success from his second album.

Don’t get it twisted, although the event seemed formal on paper, it turned out to be anything but. The guest list seemed to be never-ending, as both Y/n and Harry struggled to identify who everyone was, especially, under the dim lighting.

To make matters worse, the liquor flowed through the venue like it was water. Harry could practically count on a person stumbling out of the place every two minutes as they reach their limits.

It seemed like a vision of pure depravity.

Y/n was the complete opposite of Harry, her spontaneous nature, and desire for chaos in order to keep life interesting was one of the reasons why people either loved, or completely despised her. No one could anticipate her taunting movements, and frankly, she preferred it that way.

The sound of loud chatter was drowned out by the rhythmic hums of music that loudly projected from the speakers. Harry could hear the multiple voices that attempted to catch his attention, but it seemed his focus was fixated on something else. His gaze lingered on Y/n, his eyes trailed down her body as her hips swayed in sync with the music that resounded throughout the room.

It was known by the people closest to him that Harry was possessive, especially when it came to Y/n. Whilst some people scolded him for it, he simply couldn’t help it, once Harry gets what he wants, he will do everything in his power to keep it safe.

In a short distance, away from all the chaos, Y/n saw a decorated table filled to the brim with assorted fruits and an almost mouth-watering chocolate fountain placed right in the centre of the display.

Y/n’s sweet tooth ached whilst her eyes watched the treat trickle down the machine. She made her way towards the table, softly pushing past the guests as dizziness made itself apparent on the way, presumably, from the liquor that vibrated all throughout her body.

The area she entered seemed quiet compared to the one she was previously in, with only small groups hovering around the room in their own little worlds as they talked among themselves.

Once she reached the table, she carefully went over her options, each fruit was skewered with a small toothpick. She decided on the strawberries, taking one in her hands before dipping it into a glass filled with dark chocolate. She laughed lightly to herself, as she remembered reading about how both of these foods together, created an aphrodisiac effect.

As she was about to reach for more fruit, she felt a familiar pair of strong hands grip her waist from behind. Her body erupted in goosebumps as a low voice spoke close to her ear. "You’re a dreadful tease.” A familiar deep voice broke Y/n out of her trance as she froze in his hold.

Her body relaxed as she realised who was behind her, turning around with a small smile that teased her lips. She sensed the jealousy that dripped from Harry’s voice. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, m’just dancing.” She said innocently, placing a strawberry against her lips before taking a bite.

Harry scoffed, at her almost pathetic attempt to be oblivious to her actions. “Mhm, you’re putting on quite the show aren’t you.” He hummed with slight annoyance in his tone.

Y/n glanced at the people around her, some dancing to their heart’s content while the others attempted to engage in conversation. “It’s not my problem if guys can’t keep it in their pants.” She said with a small shrug.

"You leave nothing to the imagination do you love?”

"Jealous?” Y/n quipped in a taunting tone, though, her features remained innocent. “Besides, I didn’t know it was such a crime to have fun. If so, then arrest me baby, I’m guilty as charged.”

"Fun?.” He mocked, "So you’re telling me that this performance you’ve put on wasn’t just for me to see?” His tone seemed offended, yet his teasing expression told a different story.

She playfully shook her head and attempted to hide the smile that fought to escape her lips.

"And what about this tight little number you’ve got on, is that not for me either?” He taunted curiously, his hand trailed against the small strap that held up her dress.

Her gaze followed his cold touch as his fingers travelled across her shoulder, towards her neck. A small shiver crawled up her spine as his rings pressed lightly against her skin, before grazing across her jawline.

Her head lifted slightly. Her almost pleading eyes instantly connecting with his as if it was a reflex. "You remember what happens when you play games with me princess, it never ends well for you” his thumb lightly tugging on her strawberry-stained lips.

Her pulse quickened as her mind raced with thoughts of lust. “I guess you’re going to have to remind me.” She chose her words carefully “My mind seems to be a little foggy.”

Y/n felt Harry’s demeanour change instantly at her words, it was like a switch, his playful aura was quickly replaced with one of desire, similar to the aura of this entire event.

Little did Harry know, Y/n had him right where she wanted him. Harry craved the control that he lost over their exchange, whilst Y/n craved the thrill of the unknown. The unknown of how far Harry was willing to go to win back his control over her.

A short and antagonising laugh fell from Harry’s lips. “You want to know what I’m thinking princess?” He questioned. Y/n hummed in response, her mocking tone only pushing Harry further. “I think you’re purposely trying to wind me up.” He states clearly.

“But you know what happens to princesses who misbehave?.” He murmured.

A teasing light danced in Y/n’s eyes, she shrugged lightly and attempted to turn around to get another strawberry. She was shortly cut off as Harry swiftly, and gently tugged on her wrist. He pulled her closer towards him, their faces mere inches away from each other in order to fully grab Y/n’s attention.

“Nothing.”

Harry dropped his hands from Y/n’s body, deciding to use the table beside them to support his body instead. Y/n’s expression turned into confusion at his words. This wasn’t how she planned the rest of their conversation going.

“What’s wrong princess? You’ve gone quiet.” He pointed out, a small pout evident on his lips. “Did you expect me to whisk you away to one of the rooms upstairs... punish you f’being a little brat?”

Every time she teased Harry before, he would simply delve deeper into his own desires, playing with Y/n how he saw fit as punishment.

It was a routine that Y/n loved, so why was tonight any different.

Unless...

He perked up with a boyish smile at her confused reaction, knowing her mind was scrambling for a snarky retort. “Tell y’what, I’ll give you what you want on one condition.”

She looked at him curiously, interested in what he was proposing. “And what’s that?”

“M’going to need you to beg for me.” The thought of those three, simple little words sent Harry’s mind into a tangent of his own, the flame of control flickering in his eyes as he watched her expression.

His words took a second to process in Y/n’s mind, but once they did, she realised what he was doing. Harry was using her own tactics against her, the teasing, the mischievous look in his eye and most importantly, the element of surprise.

Although it worked for a small moment, Y/n was determined, she wasn’t about to let Harry beat her at her own game.

“Beg for you?” Y/n echoed, pondering the thought over a chocolate-covered strawberry before throwing away the rest in the waste bin.

It wasn’t long before someone interrupted their conversation. They were at a party after all. An unrecognisable figure walked up behind Harry, wrapping their arms around him before placing a shot glass full of clear liquid in his hand.

“What’re you hiding out here for Harry, you’re missing out on all the fun!” The man exclaimed with excitement, clinking his own shot glass with Harry’s before downing the drink. Y/n quickly pinched the drink out of Harry’s hand, and in one swift movement, downed the liquor similarly to the man slinging himself around Harry.

A snicker escaped Harry’s lips at the sight of Y/n’s disgusted face as she examined the shot glass “Straight vodka, m’assuming.” He remarks. Y/n nods in acknowledgment, placing the glass on the table next to them before the unknown man pipes up again.

“Sorry to interrupt miss, m’sure whatever you two were talking about was truly exhilarating but Harry here, is a busy man.” He slurs, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “People to meet, drinks to... drink? Anyways, you understand.”

Y/n eyed Harry curiously, he simply shrugged as they both realised that the mystery man next to them had no clue about their relationship and simply assumed that Y/n was just a random girl Harry was swooning over.

She chuckled lightly, “Don’t let me get in your way, go have fun.” She reached out, softly squeezing Harry’s arm as reassurance. The man already started to make his way back to the dance floor, expecting Harry to be following behind him.” What are you waiting for-?”

Before Y/n was able to let go of Harry he gently pulled her closer towards him, closing the small gap between them as her body collided with his. “I was going to say, I wouldn’t waste another moment thinking about it princess...” He trailed off, his rings roughly digging into the thin material of her dress as he held her in place.

“We both know you’re just going to end up begging for me to fuck you.” Harry’s hold hastily dropped from her hips, before walking away. A small smirk was evident on his lips as he sensed the state of shock he left Y/n in.

She watched in pure disbelief as he wandered back into the loud venue, but despite of it all, she couldn’t deny the feeling of adrenaline that coursed through her body at his words.

With an annoyed sigh, Y/n focused her attention back on the many strawberries in front of her, snatching one from the plate. "If that’s how he wants to play it...” She murmured before taking a bite out of the sweet fruit before carelessly discarding the rest.

“Then let the games begin.”

———

The night progressed as Y/n and Harry went their separate ways, mingling and causing mischief with the other guests.

Although they seemed to be in their own little worlds, they were both aware of each others presence. Whether that was through the overwhelming exhilaration that emanated from the both of them, or their teasing gazes as their eyes met at random times throughout the night.

After what felt like hours to Y/n of endless dancing, she decided that it was time to spice things up, feeling bored of waiting for Harry to make a move.

Her eyes scanned the room, eventually falling to the bar that didn’t seem too far away from her. She slowly made her way past the people in front of her, before reaching the busy service, waving down the bartender in the process.

“What a coincidence! We’ve found each other once again miss!” The familiar slurred voice spoke at a high volume from beside her, causing Y/n to flinch at the sudden noise "Seems like fate is trying t’tell us something.”

Y/n turned towards the man, her mind taking a second to process his features. ‘Oh it’s the guy from before... did I ever get his name?’ She pondered to herself

Noticing the evident confusion on her face, he piped up with a chuckle “I guess I didn’t properly introduce m’self did I? M’names Kai.”

She hummed in acknowledgment “So you’re the one that tried to poison Harry with that dreadful drink.”

“I guess that’s one way to be remembered.” He remarked in an attempt to be charming. “You two seem close though.”

You don’t know the half of it. She thought to herself, before speaking up with a smile, “I guess you could say that, my name’s Y/n by the way.”

———

Harry wasn’t much of a dancer. The only exception is for when he performs. Which caused him to spend most of the night in the booth that he reside in from the beginning of the event. The small space seemed to be full of his friends and co-workers as they chat up a storm, a continuous supply of drinks being served to the group.

The elevated booth allowed him to view the guests dance the night away. Which is how he was able to spot Y/n in the crowded dance-floor.

He watched as the man Harry was introduced to as ‘Kai’ stood dangerously close to Y/n as they swayed to the music and continued with their small talk.

Harry didn’t mind at first, not taking much note of the whole interaction. He loved seeing Y/n have fun. It was only once he noticed that she leaned closer towards Kai, whispering in his ear, a sultry “Please.” as she requested for one last drink, that their interaction caught his attention.

She moved back, re-gaining the small space between the two of them. Of course, she was hyper-aware of the fact that Harry knew about the whole exchange, flickering her eyes to his with a taunting smile.

Kai followed her gaze before spotting Harry, a boyish grin fell onto his lips as he sent Harry a cheeky thumbs-up. It was as if he had scored the best take of the night whilst somehow still being oblivious to the fact that Harry was utterly in love with the woman he was swooning over.

Harry shook his head, purely baffled by the whole exchange. “Dickhead.” He muttered under his breath. The rings that were wrapped around his fingers hit the glass with a small ‘clink’ as he took ahold of his drink, downing it all in one go.

———

"Tell you what, sit your pretty self down while I go flag down that bartender over there.” Kai motioned towards one of the seats with a smile before making his way to the other end of the bar.

Y/n nodded, letting out a tired sigh as he walked away. She felt herself getting worn out by the lack of attention she was getting from Harry, but, as annoyed as she was, she was determined to win this little game that Harry’s made up for the both of them.

“If he wasn’t so stubborn then maybe-.” Y/n muttered, getting ready to take a seat at the bar before being cut off by the feeling of a sudden grip around her wrist. With a small tug, she was twirled around to face the person that held her captive in their hold.

A small giggle fell from her lips as her body smoothly fell into the familiar figure’s build.

“Having fun princess?”

His voice caused a shiver to course through her body, small goosebumps forming on her skin at the harshness of his tone.

Y/n lazily wrapped her arms around Harry, unintentionally using him to support her own intoxicated body “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

"Never.” He boyishly grinned, feeling smitten knowing that Y/n had him on her mind as much as he did for her all night.

Although the music still resounded around the room, the tune that played was much slower. So much so that Harry and Y/n noticed the tipsy guests begin coupling up as an attempt to dance with one another.

Y/n softly rested her head against Harry’s shoulder as his hands rested on her waist. Her eyes fluttering close as she felt herself get lost in the song “Mind telling what that whole charade was about ?” Harry hummed closely, possessiveness laced in his voice.

Y/n quickly picked up that he was talking about Kai. She playfully scoffed, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “I was getting bored and you weren’t paying me any attention. Besides, I knew your jealousy would get the better of you eventually.”

Harry let out a small laugh at her seemingly meticulous plans. "You know all you had to do was come find me.” He affirmed.

Feelings of guilt were getting the better of Y/n as she pondered whether or not she took all of this too far. "Are you upset with me?” She said with a small pout.

“Of course not princess, m’not upset with you.” He comfortingly squeezed her waist for a small moment, both of them swaying to the soft beat of the song.

I just wanted to you to tell me how needy you were f’me.” He murmured lowly, making sure that the people dancing around them didn’t hear.

All the feelings of concern were immediately washed away from Y/n, quickly being replaced with a mixture of relief and playfulness.

“You know I’m not going to break that easy, you’re going to have t’try harder than that if you want me to say such a thing.” She huffed.

“Is that so?” Harry mocked, making a mental note of her words. "What about if I...” He trailed off. His head dipped down as he peppered wet kisses all the way to her exposed shoulder, making sure to lightly suck on the delicate skin as if he wanted to leave his mark on her.

Y/n gave into the taunting feeling for a small moment, her eyes closing as Harry had his way with her. “You shouldn’t be doing this.” She remarked.

He pulled away, a boyish chuckle escaping his lips. “Are y’scared your little friend over there will see.” He motioned towards Kai, who seemed to have been caught up on his path to the bar. Another girl danced with him as he held two drinks in his hand with seemingly, not a care in the world “I wouldn’t worry about him.”

"That’s not what I meant, silly.” She clarified, referring to the small love bites that she felt forming across her pulsating skin.

His fingers lightly grazed over her neck. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left a pretty little mark on you princess.” He noted, admiring his work. His voice alone was enough to send Y/n into a spiral of lust. Her mind was in scrambles as she fought the tempting urge to give into Harry’s desires.

Although the slow song finished, another bass-heavy one played in its place. Y/n could tell the night was coming to a close as people slowly made their way to the exit, or, were celebrating their last round of drinks. This meant Y/n only had about an hour or so to decide whether or not she would continue to be stubborn, proving to Harry that she’s not as submissive as he makes her out to be.

"You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Harry glanced at a distracted Y/n, a teasing curiosity evident in his features. “A few words princess, that’s all it takes.” 

Y/n snapped out of her trance, realising she was slowly succumbing to Harry. She took a deep breath, and in an attempt to regain her control, gently wrapped her hands around the back of Harry’s neck, making their way up to his messy curls. Her fingers wrapped around the strands of hair, giving it a small tug as the both of them continued to sway to the music.  “Let’s say I was thinking about it, what would you do about that?” 

Harry hummed lowly at the pleasurable feeling of her soft touch on his skin. In that moment, he decided not to waste another second of his attention on anyone other than Y/n. "Then, I would bring you upstairs... play with you until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess.

His hands tightening around her waist. His rings slightly dug into her skin, the cold metal seeping through the thin material of her dress causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over her. “You’re already aching for me. Imagine how you’ll feel with your legs wrapped around me.”

Harry left small kisses across her jawline, returning to his sweet yet torturous assault from before. “You would plead for your release as I bring you right to the edge, telling you all about how much of a good girl you’ve been, all submissive and needy, just how I like.” Y/n could feel herself growing hot from his taunting movements as she unintentionally began to bite at her lip, suppressing any moans that threatened to escape.

“But you haven’t really been a good girl have you, princess? I would say you’ve been quite the brat all night.” His kisses edged closer and closer before finally, his lips firmly pressed against hers. A small moment was needed, but it wasn’t long before Y/n moved in sync with his own movements, a new sense of lust overpowering her senses as she deepened the kiss, a mix of alcohol and peppermint lingering on their tongues. 

Harry noticed her newfound pushiness, the roughness of the kiss causing a gruff and low groan to escape from the back of his throat. “Do you remember what I said about little brats that don’t listen?” His gaze on Y/n as he begrudgingly pulled away from her, his lips merely hovering above her own.

Y/n let out a frustrated whimper at the sudden loss of contact, her eyes fluttering open with confusion.

"You would plead for your release...” Harry repeated. A taunting fire danced his eyes, a confident smirk creeping onto his lips. “Only for me to pull away right at the last moment.”

Y/n wanted to smack the smug grin right off of his face, but she just seemed defeated, her expression changed to one of frustration as her hands fell from Harry. 

"Don’t look at me like that, you brought this on yourself princess.” He teased, giving her one last chaste kiss. “Y’know you could still-”

He was shortly cut off by the sound of Y/n’s annoyed voice. "Fine!” she snapped, just at a low enough volume so people wouldn’t hear, while she attempted to catch her unsteady breath. “...fine.”

Even though Harry knew exactly what she was going to say, he still tilted his head with a pout, curiosity written on his face as he waited for Y/n to continue her thought. 

"You win.” She murmured, refusing to look Harry in the eye as she admitted her defeat.

Harry shook his head, admiring her features. He gently pushed the strands of hair that covered her face, placing it back behind her shoulders. "Not good enough, use your words princess. ‘Want to hear you beg for me.” His voice remained low, his warm breath causing a shiver down her spine.

Y/n let out a small and exaggerated sigh, as a smile teased her lips. She knew she was going to succumb to Harry eventually. In fact, she knew the moment he swept her into his arms that the game was over, but, she loved the chaos too much to ever admit that to him.

She gave him one small kiss before pulling him closer towards her. Their eyes met, both clearly filled with desire and lust, only difference was the dominating aura from Harry’s features, and the submissiveness that radiated from Y/n.

"I need you, m’so needy for your touch... Please baby...”

That, was a true vision of pure depravity.

[fuckingthefictional]

Red Stained Dress

Request: “I hope you’re having a wonderful day/evening/afternoon/night! May I request Reader being a cousin to the Shelby’s (mother’s side) and being very very like lady-like, clean, expensive clothes. And one of the boys gets blood on her dress? If that’s alright? Thanks in advance.”

A/N: I made this entirely too angsty for my own good, either way hope you enjoy!

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, swearing, blood.

“Mummy what is falling in love like?”

“My darling, it is one of the best things in life. It is special and sacred. It makes life worth living, it makes the world that little bit brighter.”

“When will that happen to me?”

“Time will tell my sweet girl, but be patient- love is always lurking around corner, where you least expect it.”

Your mother was right. It did lurk around the corner and it caught your heart in its grasp and lead you to love. To your husband.

At the age of 20 you went from Y/N Strong to Y/N Massey. Wife of James Massey. You were happy, at peace.

But your mother had failed to explain the complexities of love. That it didn’t come easy. There was darkness and rockiness. And love didn’t always last.

For you it broke in front of you. When your husband was taken on the battlefield- somewhere in France.

And suddenly you were a widow, you were alone.

Your mother and husband had passed. The only person left was your father (if you could even call him that)- Charlie Strong.

On her deathbed your mother had begged you to go and make amends with him. Even going as far to write down his address on a piece of paper for you to keep.

But you hadn’t plucked the courage to do that yet. To you your father was just a man who ran from his wife and child at the first moment he could.

There was only one trait that you shared with that man. And that was your love of horses. You had always had a connection with animals. Horses and dogs in particular would just flock to you- who knew maybe it was in your blood.

“Ms Massey?” A quiet voice interrupted your heavy stream of thought, looking up you saw one of the many maids that worked at the house standing in the entry way to the library.

“Is everything alright Mary?” You asked.

“Ms Carleton has just arrived for you ma’am, she’s waiting for you by the car.”

You nodded, rising from your armchair and taking one last glance at his armchair before you left for the day.

May and yourself were going to a horse auction, you’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

You were both looking for some new horses to take on and train, as well as some new potential clients.

“Stop dallying Y/N!” Your friend’s familiar voice rang out, “The auction starts soon, we’ll miss out at this rate!”

You rolled your eyes towards May, silently dismissing her joking jabs at you.

“We won’t be late May,” You reprimanded, “stop fretting.”

“The clock says otherwise.”

“Ladies like us are never late,” You waves your hands to prove your point, “everyone else is simply early.”

May giggles in response, “if you say so Y/N/N.”

You swatted at your close friend jokingly, you were hoping for a successful, calm day- but trouble always did seem to follow you every place you went.

-

“Ladies and Gents we will start our bidding at 50 pounds.”

The horse auction was surprisingly crowded, it seemed that quite a few people had come to see what breeds could be found at the auction house that afternoon.

It was dwindling down to the last few stallions and the occasional mare. All in all you had been successful in purchasing two stallions and a mare of your own.

The last horse on auction in question was beautiful, it was a stallion- dark and shiny in colour, its legs were long but muscled. A perfect contender for you to train for the races.

You raised your hand in interest.

“50 pounds here,” the auctioneer spoke, looking around at everyone else, “Going once, twice-“

“150 pounds.”

Your head whipped round, looking for the man who was trying to outbid you.

“300” you spoke again.

“500” A murmur rippled through the crowd.

You weighed up your options, it was a lot of money for a single horse- you didn’t want to blow through every single penny you had to your name.

“Going once, going twice-“

“1500 pounds.” A new voice had cut out, there were shocked murmurs erupting throughout the stands of people.

The gavel banged on the table, signifying the final action of the day, as people began to disperse from the auction house- you could finally see the man that had snatched the last horse up.

You knew who it in an instant- it was Thomas Shelby. Your cousin Thomas.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you began to make your way down the stairs with May. Silently you found yourself praying that he hadn’t taken any notice of your presence.

God didn’t listen of course.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep inhale, as you rushed down the stairs to try and escape.

“Y/N!”

Fuck, there was no chance of outrunning them.

You quickly murmered that you would catch up to your friend, before you slipped through the doors arena like stage.

The doors itself open and closed behind you, before it was repeated again.

Here goes nothing I suppose.

You breathed in a shuddering breath as you turned to face your estranged family members.

They were all there. Thomas, John, Arthur, as well as another two men that you didn’t recognise. Not to mention the man that you had long since called your father.

You put on a polite smile, which probably looked far too forced, “Good Afternoon Thomas.”

“What are you-“

“What are you doing ‘ere ‘ey?” Your father cut Tommy off, questioning your motives as his piercing eyes stared into your similar ones.

The action only caused a swell of anger to swirl in her belly.

“I assume the same reason that you are- business.” You spoke simply, biting down on your tongue to keep any more words at bay.

“And what ‘business’ do you have here Hmm?” Tommy’s gruff voice asked.

“Jesus I’m just here to purchase any horses that look good enough to ride professionally- what is your probl-“

“Mr Shelby.”

Everything that happened next, happened all too quickly. Because before you could even register what was happening there was a yell coming from one of your cousins.

“Get down!” John’s voice had cut of your own with a loud yell, as you were suddenly tackled to the floor.

A loud crack rippled through the air as the wooden banister above you splintered into two, a bullet lodging itself in the wall behind it.

You peeled up behind the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, “What the fuck?” You screamed in fear, shock melting into every nerve and muscle in your body.

Another gunshot pierced out, as it shattered the large window close by into thousands of shards.

A part of you didn’t want to believe that this was happening- surely it was just a dream? A terrible, horrific nightmare?

Another crack of a bullet being launched sounded close to you, peeping up from behind your quivering hands you saw that it was Thomas who had fired it.

Thomas who had fired a fatal shot into another man’s head. Thomas who had caused the death of a man, who may have had a wife, or a child or a family.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that was to come next. The sight of your eldest cousin brutally throwing punch after punch after punch at another man’s face.

The sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bones shifting and cracking under the weight of Arthur’s meaty fists continued to echo around the room.

The man’s face slowly becoming mangled into mush, the sand below him becoming stained with crimson blood - you knew you couldn’t take it for a moment longer.

Swallowing your fear, you jumped off of the ground, screaming desperately for Arthur to stop.

You tried to pull him off, only to be knocked backwards onto your back. You felt the air leave your body as you collided with the ground.

You shifted back onto your feet, ignoring the pain surging through your spine. Watching as your father, Tommy and another man ripped Arthur away from the scene.

Crawling over you to the motionless body, you lifted two fingers to his neck. Frantically searching for a pulse. After a few seconds you found one, “He’s still alive- but his pulse is weak, he needs-“

Once again you were cut off by your father, “John take Y/N to the car.”

“What? No!” You protested, “did you not hear me- that man is dying he needs a doctor now.”

Within seconds you felt your body lift off the ground and over someone’s shoulder.

“Stop! You can’t do this!” You were screaming desperately, you voice becoming hoarse “What is wrong with you?”

The feeling of tears running down your face, alerted you to just how upset you felt. You just watched your family kill- like they were predators.

A few short minutes later, you felt your feet finally hit the floor. Looking around you grasped onto the nearest solid object that you could find.

The car was cool to touch and it calmed your raging thoughts for a second before a swell of nausea hit. You wanted to be sick, to cleanse the memories of what you had just witnessed away.

“Y/N...” John’s voice held care, like he was tiptoeing around what had just happened, “About what you just saw.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

You’re head shot up angrily, Tommy stood in front of you, with the rest of the group of men behind him.

“Really because the blood on my fucking dress says otherwise,” you fined, lYou’re fucking insane- you just killed two men, two men who may have had families that will never see them again.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “You should feel ashamed.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “If we didn’t kill them, they would have killed us.”

“We all have a part to play in this world Tommy- you don’t get to decide who lives, who dies and who tells the story. You’re just a selfish coward who shoots first and asks questions later.”

“Y/N you can’t say that- he’s your family.”

Your head whipped around, quick enough that you swore you could’ve gotten whiplash. It was your father who had spoken those words.

“You don’t get to say anything to me- you do not have that right anymore, you lost that a long time ago,” You jabbed a finger into his scrawny chest, “Family Hm? You lot stopped being my family years ago. None of you came to my wedding, none of your cared when my husband was killed, and you ‘dad’ disowned me before I could walk- so don’t you dare lecture me about family.”

“You’re still apart of this family Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well if that,” you pointed back over to the auction center, “is what being apart of this family is then I have no fucking interest in being apart of it.”

Family isn’t always to do with fucking blood- it is what you make it.

[hotpinkhoshi]

devour (m)

pairing: human!baekhyun x vampire!reader (f) genre: smut, paranormal warnings: mentions of blood, pain, monsters etc, explicit sex involving some slight dom/sub themes but not really. a lot of position switching, oral (m receiving), cursing  word count: 6.6k summary: you’re thirsty. so damn thirsty. and baekhyun is the only one that can give you what you want. it’s the last time, really the last time, you tell yourself.  a/n: hello my lovely amazing readers! thank you so much for being so patient with me these last several months, i know i haven’t been very consistent with my posting BUT i promise i’m trying. i started this piece about 3 weeks ago and my only goal was to finish it by the end of the month. thankfully i just barely finished in time! i hope you enjoy but first, a disclaimer: i haven’t read or watched anything about vampires in many years so i know there may be things that don’t technically make sense. vampire enthusiasts pls do not come for me, i did my best.  thanks to: all my followers, @jjinyounf for discussing vampire reproductive systems, & @flowerbeom​ and @jjpmoans​ for hyping me up and giving me love and encouragement whenever i need it, which is a lot!

Last time, you told yourself it was the last time. 

The last time you let Baekhyun into your apartment at half past three in the morning, so out of your mind starving that you could hardly even see straight. The last time you let him take you, command your body like it was no longer your own.

You should have known you were lying to yourself. 

You [3:28am]: are you up?

Baek [3:29am]: yea, why?

You [3:31am]: can you come over? 

After your last message, you got no response. Perhaps, you thought, he’d fallen asleep or worse, had no interest in being your blood bag for the night. You would be disappointed, but you wouldn’t blame him. 

You rolled over in bed, flopping onto your stomach as you buried your face into your pillow. Maybe you could simply push through and wait until morning, when Kyungsoo would be awake and able to help you. 

After you turned a few months ago, totally unexpectedly, it had flipped your world upside down. Kyungsoo found you, shivering and delirious by a dumpster where your fun little one night stand had left you. 

Kyungsoo was human, but he was the type of person that people trusted and allowed into their worlds, no matter who they were. As one of the general surgeons of the local hospital, he’d gotten himself into a position of substantial power over both the humans and the vampires of your city. He never used it as a weapon—only as leverage to keep the humans safe.

When he found you, he’d wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to his apartment, but you didn’t remember anything until many days later. Kyungsoo nursed you to health, providing you with a vampire crash course to prepare you for the rest of your life. Of eternity. 

Then he’d introduced you to some of his friends at a party after you were more comfortable, although you had yet to feed on a living human. There was a whole community of humans that got off on it, that lived for the pain and pleasure of letting a vampire feed on them. 

It was at this party that you met Baekhyun. He had a mischievous glint in his eye when Kyungsoo told him your name and left the two of you alone in the dimly lit, smoky club basement. Something about that look in Baekhyun’s eyes told you he knew you’d be his by the end of the night. 

The feeling, the taste, the pure ecstasy of finally consuming fresh blood was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, even when you were alive. Your senses were heightened as a vampire as it was, but as soon as his blood hit your tongue, it was like your world exploded into a million colors. 

But even though you’d been the monster drinking his blood, Baekhyun remained in control. He laid you out on his bed and pinned your wrists to the mattress with one hand, his other wrist pressed into your mouth as he forced you to feed. 

You whimpered and cried out when it was too much, when the overstimulation of his blood and the way he was rocking into you at a brutally rhythmic pace had you seeing stars. He never relented; only fucked you harder as you writhed under him. 

After that night, you never wanted anyone else. Baekhyun was the only man you wanted to feed from. With him, you didn’t feel like a monster. You didn’t feel like a thing, like a horror story to tell in the dark. 

He made you feel human again. 

Tonight, the thirst was too much to handle. It was clouding your mind and keeping you awake as you twisted and turned under the covers. You couldn’t tell if you were craving his blood or craving him, but you were too weak to care. 

You hated the thirst. It was like dehydration, tenfold. Your head hurt, your lips were dry no matter how many times you wet them, and all you could think about was warm blood sliding down your throat. It was maddening. 

The telltale sound of your apartment’s buzzer had you sitting up in bed, so quickly that it made your head spin, the noise signaling that you had a visitor down at the main entrance to your building. 

You scurried off the bed and hurried to the door, nearly running into it as you slid on the hardwood in your socks to let him in. You told yourself the eagerness to see him was only because you were thirsty, certainly nothing more.

As soon as you opened the door, you felt embarrassingly underdressed. 

Baekhyun had dyed his hair since you’d last seen him. It was now a silver blonde, perfectly messy and framing his stupidly beautiful features. He’d been out tonight, you realized. The glitter on his cheekbones gave it away. 

His hands were stuffed comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket with a faded graphic tee underneath, and expertly tailored black jeans practically painted onto his lower half. 

You tugged the hem of your T-shirt down, even though he’d already had you in positions that you hadn’t even thought were physically possible—vampire or not. For some reason, you still felt bare in front of him in your pajama shorts and oversized tee.

“Hmm,” Baekhyun hummed as he stepped inside, letting the heavy door close behind him. He smelled like smoke and rum. “Look at you. Is someone thirsty?”

You blinked, grateful that you were incapable of blushing. As ravenous and desperate for blood as you were, the way he looked you up and down made you feel small and shy. 

“Can I?” you asked, reaching for his wrist, half tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Uh-uh.” He stepped back just before your fingers brushed his skin. “You know that’s not how it works, baby. You still need to work for it.” 

If you wanted to, you could muster your strength and slam him into the door, dive for his neck and bleed him dry before he even realized what was happening. But you didn’t. You wanted this, you wanted to beg and plead until finally, he rewarded you. 

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, then dragged your tongue over the dry, cracking skin of your lips. “I’m so thirsty. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He seemed pleased by this, judging by the way his lips turned into a familiar smirk. “I know you will. Come on, let’s go sit down.” 

You followed him to the living room obediently, watching as he made himself comfortable on the couch. He shrugged his jacket off, revealing the expanse of his forearms down to his wrists, covered in bite marks in various stages of healing. 

All from you. 

If he had chosen to get his fix somewhere else, you wouldn’t have any reason to be envious or hurt. But it filled you with a sense of pride that he didn’t, that you were the only one he allowed to taste him. 

You moved to sit next to him, but Baekhyun stopped you. He took your hand, leading you to stand in between his parted legs. 

“Knees.” 

It took one word for you to drop to the carpet, your bare knees pressing into the old scratchy shag rug you’d had for ages. He kept your fingers in his palm, rubbing his thumb idly over the back of your hand. 

“Good girl.” With his other hand, he tucked your hair behind your ear, his wrist brushing against your cheek so that you could hear the pulse beneath his skin. 

“Baek…” you began, turning slightly until your nose brushed his skin. “Just a taste. Please.”

Baekhyun lifted your chin with his finger and locked eyes with you. You filled with warmth already, just one look enough to send your mind racing with images of everything you wanted from him. His blood was further down the list than you would have thought.

“Just a taste,” he repeated. 

With that, he let go of your hand and turned slightly to reach into the pocket of his discarded jacket. When he pulled out the shiny folded metal, you gulped hungrily. 

The pocketknife brandished with a metallic click. 

It wasn’t uncommon for humans to carry weapons these days. After all, vampires weren’t the only monsters that roamed the streets after dusk, and not all vampires were quite as friendly with humans as you were. 

Your eyes followed Baekhyun’s nimble fingers as he brought the very end of his knife to his middle finger, twisting the point into his fingertip until a spot of blood appeared. 

It took every bit of self control that you possessed not to reach out in desperation for his hand and bring it to your mouth. But you knew better—you knew if you broke, Baekhyun would stand up and walk out the door like you were less than nothing to him. 

He watched you with interest as he held his finger just out of your reach, eyes dancing with that mischievous stare he had when he teased you. You would despise it if you didn’t know that eventually, he always caved. 

Finally, when your mouth had gone dry and you could feel the warm tingle that meant your fangs were about to protrude, Baekhyun brought his index and middle fingers to your mouth. 

He slipped them past the parched skin of your lips, your entire world blooming as soon as his middle finger touched the center of your tongue. You moaned, eyes falling shut. 

“Look how needy you are,” he remarked after a beat. His voice was strained, though, as if watching your display of bliss was causing him physical pain. 

He let you go for a while, maybe half a minute, before he was removing his fingers from your mouth. You couldn’t help but whine, resisting every urge not to grab at his wrist to keep him there. 

With the small amount of his blood you’d been able to milk from his finger, you already felt renewed. A surge of energy coursed through you like you’d just been injected with adrenaline. 

“What do you say?” Baekhyun asked with a cocked brow. 

You swallowed, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. “Thank you.” 

Without a second thought, you reached for Baekhyun’s belt, fingers quickly undoing the metal buckle. Your ears picked up the quickening of his heartbeat from the moment you undid the button of his pants. 

It was no surprise that most vampire-human relationships, if not ending in death, ended in sex. Feeding, in your experience, was extremely sensual and instantly created feelings of arousal within both parties. It was almost better than sex, and when the two came together? It was euphoric. 

You were pleased to find him half-hard already by the time you got his zipper down, your hand wrapping around the length of him under the fabric of his briefs. Baekhyun inhaled sharply, holding his breath until you had pulled his cock from his underwear. 

Only a few seconds passed before you leaned forward, parting your lips to run your tongue along the underside of his member. Your eyes remained open, locked on Baekhyun’s face to gauge his reaction. 

He loved it, of course. 

With a groan, he tipped his head back, exposing his throat and sending a shockwave to your core. You wanted his throat, his neck, all of that fresh, warm blood pumping beneath his skin. But you wanted to taste it while he was inside of you. It would be worth the wait. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took his length into your mouth, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he hit the back of your throat. Unlike men you’d been with when you were human, Baekhyun made no effort to remain quiet. He was loud, and you loved it. 

If you had your way, all of your days would be filled with Baekhyun’s voice. His moans, his rough whispers in your ear, his laugh, his hums as he completed mundane tasks like wiping down the counters or tying his shoes. Deep down, you wanted it all.

“Good girl, that’s my girl,” he whispered, reaching forward to lace his fingers in your hair. He curled his hand into a tight fist, a deliciously sharp pain spreading across your scalp. 

You whimpered, lips wrapped tight and wet around him. He guided you back and forth for a while with his hand in your hair, muttering soft praises all the while. By the way his hips were twitching towards your face, you knew he was getting lost in the ministrations of your mouth. 

Baekhyun soon dropped his hand from your hair, signaling you to pull away, just in time for him to stand up and pull you to your feet. 

A squeak of surprise fell from your lips as he lifted you, hooking your legs around his waist in a simple, swift movement.

“Bed,” he said simply. 

Baekhyun carried you through your apartment as if it was his own, lips kissing and nipping at your neck as he dodged every obstacle between the two of you and the bedroom. He stopped once, in the hallway, to lean you into wall and roll his hips into your center. 

His name came out as a sigh. 

Then, finally, he dropped you onto the center of your bed. It was messy from your previous tossing around in the sheets from your thirst, but neither of you cared. Baekhyun reached for the comforter, knotted and piled together under your lower back, and easily tossed it off the bed to leave nothing but the sheets under you. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, chest heaving up and down, and ran his fingers through his hair. The look in his eyes had you squirming, ready for him to devour you in every way possible. 

“Are you still thirsty, baby?” 

Your heart clenched at the pet name, even though he always called you that, loving the way it sounded on his lips. You gulped, nodding as you batted your eyelashes. 

“Yes,” you admitted. 

“Take off your clothes,” he told you, hands reaching for his jeans, still unbuttoned, to push them down his legs. 

It took less than a second for you to obey, clutching the waistband of your shorts and shoving them off of you. You knew he liked when you kept your underwear on, just so he could use it to further torture you by keeping a layer between you. 

You slipped your thin T-shirt off, throwing it to the side and laying back into the mattress again. Baekhyun had removed his own shirt, leaving just his briefs from letting you see all of him. 

You could marvel at his body for hours—he was slender, but solid. He wasn’t much taller than you, but his shoulders were broad enough to make you feel protected in those rare moments when he held you in his arms. 

This time, though, you noticed something new. There was a handful of bruises and scratches marring his body, completely different from the puncture marks that your fangs left when you fed on him. Blinking, you furrowed your eyebrows, fingers reaching out. 

“What are-”

“No questions,” Baekhyun cut you off, reaching for your hands before they could reach their destination. His face softened, ever so slightly, when you quickly retreated, curling your hands up near your own chest. “We’re not here to talk, are we, baby?”

Just like that, he made you forget the suspicious marks on his chest, even one slash that looked particularly painful. Almost like he’d been cut by a knife.  

Watching the way he licked his lips as his eyes traveled down your body, slowly, so slowly, you were easily steered back to the task at hand. You dropped your hands to the sheets, digging your nails into the fabric as he overwhelmed each of your senses. 

Even from here, you could smell his blood. From here, you could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart, taste the alcohol and nicotine of his kiss. Your body was calling out to him and you weren’t sure how much longer you could deny what it needed. 

“Baekhyun,” you found yourself whining, hips squirming under his hungry gaze. 

His eyes snapped up to your face then, so much desire and pure lust in his stare that you felt a brand new surge of heat travel through your limbs. 

“Mm, first…” he pressed one knee down into the mattress, then the other, until he was hovering over you. “We have to see if you’re ready for me, don’t we?” 

Baekhyun led a painfully light touch down the middle of your chest with his index and middle fingers, between your bare breasts, and down the valley of your stomach at a pace that had you biting your tongue just to keep from begging him for the nth time. It would only further encourage him to play with you, of which you could only tolerate so much. 

You knew his moves by now, knew that he would trail those fingers down to your waist, over the elastic of your panties until he found the evidence of your arousal between your legs. You knew his moves, and he still had you whimpering the moment his fingers brushed your clit through your panties. 

Your toes curled into the sheets as you tried desperately not to show how crazy he was making you. He knew already, though, the moment he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and found wetness between your legs. 

“Oh,” Baekhyun said with a smirk, tongue running cheekily along his lower lip. “You’re dripping, Y/N. You’re this wet just from sucking me off?”

Again, you were grateful for your inability to blush. 

“Answer me,” he demanded suddenly, eyes turning dark just the way you liked them. 

“Yes!” you replied, hips canting up towards Baekhyun’s hand. “Yes, I’m this wet just from sucking you off.” 

Even after you closed your eyes, you were sure you could see the cocky smirk that was undoubtedly painted upon his lips. He lived for this, the feeling of absolutely owning you. You, an immortal, bloodthirsty, powerful woman despite how weak he made you. 

As his fingers delved lower, just until he could dip them into your entrance, you mewled and turned your cheek towards the pillow. “Please,” you breathed. 

Baekhyun’s lips brushed your neck. “Please, what?” 

“Want you… want-“ you sighed as his fingers pushed deeper, to his second knuckle. “Want you inside.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t surprise you when he finally gave in, but you couldn’t complain. Though he didn’t concede without a few deep pumps of his fingers, enough to have you gasping and close to ripping the sheets apart beneath you. 

Baekhyun slipped his fingers from you and stood from the bed, his hands pushing down his briefs without hesitation. He nodded at you once, motioning with his chin to the headboard behind you. 

“On your knees, and face the headboard.” 

Renewed with your need to feel Baekhyun inside of you, you easily flipped over onto all fours, that warm sensation in your gums warning you that your fangs would extend at any moment. You didn’t fight it, hoping that it wouldn’t be much longer until you would need them. 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun exhaled, just before you felt the bed shift with his weight as he moved behind you. “You’re beautiful, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing you like this.” 

You’re beautiful. 

The words echoed in your mind, though you knew they probably shouldn’t. He rarely complimented you so boldly, especially before he was inside of you, overwhelmed with pleasure and pain. Curling your hands into fists, you shoved your feelings down because you needed to. A survival instinct, really. 

Because if you fell for him, if you opened your heart, the odds were against you. You weren’t sure why he chose you, why you were the only one he allowed to feed from him, but you couldn’t let yourself see it as any more than a mutual transaction of pleasure.

Baekhyun snapped you out of your thoughts easily the moment he pressed up against you from behind, his hands molding down your sides until he could place them upon your hips. 

You hung your head between your shoulders, reaching your hands out to grip the wooden slats of your headboard. The anticipation was always the best, and worst, part of this. 

It almost scared you how well Baekhyun knew your body. He knew when he trailed his fingertips down between your shoulder blades that you’d shiver and bite your lip, using every ounce of willpower that you possessed not to beg him. Even though you were pretty sure that’s what he wanted. 

He knew when he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder, that you’d ultimately lose the battle with yourself and your dignity. You were hot, sweaty, and desperate. Desperate enough to give in and sob his name, squeezing your headboard so hard that you felt the wood splinter beneath your hands. 

Without another word, his lips still pressed to your skin, you finally felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance. You held your breath, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t drag it out any longer. 

Your wish was granted as he filled you in one long stroke, both of you releasing satisfied moans at the sensation. This... this was bliss. 

“How are you-” Baekhyun ground out through his teeth and squeezed your hips hard enough you’d probably bruise, if you could, “-always this tight? God.” 

His lips trailed across from one shoulder blade to the other, giving your body a moment to adjust to the girth of him, before he began to move. Just like every other time, he pulled sighs and moans from you that only his ears had ever had the privilege of hearing. 

“Oh, my god,” you breathed, your walls clenching around him each time he filled you, his pace making your head spin. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Baekhyun asked, voice low next to your ear. 

It took a few more thrusts for you to be able to catch your breath to answer him, your head spinning from the way he was fucking you. It didn’t matter how many times you had him, he always made you like this. Crazy, hungry, and weak. 

“Good, so… so good.” 

“That’s right,” Baekhyun answered, one hand drifting from your hip down between your legs to find your clit. “You’re taking me so well. Think you might get to feed a little earlier than normal tonight, baby.” 

You clenched around him once more at his words. Recently, Baekhyun had started making you wait longer and longer to taste him. The last time, you’d been teetering right on the edge of your second orgasm when he finally bared his neck to you.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world--no, that moment when his blood hit your tongue had sent you towards the most electric, trembling climax you’d ever had. But you had to admit your mouth was watering already at the thought of sinking your teeth into his skin sooner rather than later. 

“Please,” you begged, pushing your ass back towards him. “Please, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun rolled his fingers around your clit in circular motions, grunting as he thrusted hard, jolting you forward. You gasped and moaned, throwing your head back in ecstasy. 

“You want that, huh? You want me to fuck you while you drink from me?” He matched each stroke of his cock inside of you with the pace of his fingers, drawing tight circles between your legs. 

“Yes,” you answered, voice cracking. You didn’t just want it, you needed it. Your fangs were showing now, and you weren’t even sure at what point they’d finally protruded from your gums, a biological response to the thought that you would be needing them soon. 

Your world spun, briefly, as Baekhyun grabbed your hips and flipped you from your knees onto your back. It was quick, a move he’d pulled on you so many times you barely even noticed until he was pushing back inside of you. 

“Oh, look at you,” he said from above you. 

Now that you could see him, you could appreciate his rosy cheeks, the way his hair stuck to his temples, and the subtle way his shoulder muscles contracted each time he moved inside you. Holding himself up with one arm, he trailed his free hand down the side of your face and brushed his thumb over your lip. 

“You’re ready to feed, aren’t you, baby? So fucking needy. You think you deserve it?” The pad of his thumb slipped inside of your mouth, daring to trace over the shape of one of your fangs. 

All you could do was nod, the ability to actually speak coherent words completely lost on you at the moment. 

You waited, as patiently as you could while he was driving you insane, for Baekhyun to make the first move. You never reached for his arm first, never lunged for his neck or his shoulder, simply because you wanted him to have that control. 

Baekhyun leaned down, his lips trailing kisses from your chin up to your jaw, until he nipped at your earlobe. “Go ahead, pretty. Take what you want.” 

The next time he filled you completely with his cock, you finally sunk your teeth into Baekhyun’s neck, that same spot that you had claimed as your own already. You whimpered as his blood filled your mouth, sliding down your throat. 

You reveled in the way he tasted and the sinful way he inhaled sharply at the initial bite before he let out a long, blissful moan. Your body was on fire now, so consumed in Baekhyun and the way he felt buried this deep inside of your heat. It was like you were invincible. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him into you easily. It was different when you fed from him like this. You had to be careful, control yourself so that you didn’t hurt him too badly, but it tasted so damn good. 

Before you could get carried away, you forced yourself to pull back, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. Even though you were no longer feeding, you felt the effects of his blood rushing through your body already. 

It was electric and overwhelming in the best possible way, heightened even more so by the way Baekhyun fit inside of you and stretched you so perfectly. The entire room had brightened around you as if somebody had switched on a light. 

When you were finally able to focus on the man above you, you were pleased to find that he looked just as fucked out as you felt. His arms shook, for a moment, maybe from the quick loss of blood or just the sheer pleasure of it all.

Taken by a moment of bravery, you used your legs hooked around his hips to roll your bodies over so that you could settle on top of him and let him rest for a moment. His wound would heal quickly—something to do with the healing properties of your saliva, according to Kyungsoo—but you knew he’d need a beat to regain his strength. 

The moment he filled you completely, you took in a shuddering breath and planted your hands on his chest. Baekhyun stared up at you, eyes filled with awe, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t find the words. 

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, licking your lips once again. “I want to make you - make you feel good,” you admitted. 

Baekhyun’s hands found your thighs, pale and smooth, and dug his fingertips into your skin. Slowly, those fingertips trailed up to your hips to pull you closer, forcing you into a rocking motion atop of him. 

“Go on, then,” he breathed. “Make me feel good.” 

It occurred to you then that you’d been in this position with him only once before, and it only lasted a couple of minutes before he flipped you onto your back and took over control. This time, though, you wanted to take it until the end. You wanted him to see just a shred of the power you could have over him. 

Maybe you didn’t realize it until now, but you knew Baekhyun’s body just as well as he knew yours. 

You knew when you rolled your hips just right, he’d groan and his eyes would flutter closed as he fought not to thrust himself further inside of you. You knew his hands would start to roam, squeezing and groping at the smooth flesh of your hips and stomach. 

Not until Baekhyun had you learned to appreciate a man’s hands on you without feeling self conscious or try to cover up. Maybe because Baekhyun owed you nothing, there was no reason for him to lie to you or tell you what you wanted to hear. With his hands and his lips, he painted his honest truth on your body without saying a word. 

You started to lose yourself more and more with each roll, each circular grind of your hips on top of him, letting your needy moans fill the room along with his.

“Just like that,” Baekhyun praised, both hands holding firmly onto your waist. “Tell me, who makes you feel this good?”

You pressed your hands more firmly into his stomach and opened your eyes, only a little surprised to find him staring up at you again as if he was trying to drink in every inch of your body. 

Just when you were about to answer, Baekhyun bucked his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you—deep enough to make you shiver and lose any and all words that could have gone through your mind. 

“I-” you started, fighting the urge to close your eyes. With the way he was looking at you, you knew that Baekhyun wanted your eyes on him. “Y-you,” you could only whisper. 

“I said,” he said, through his teeth, surprising you as he sat up underneath of you so that your chests were flush together. “Who makes you feel like this?” 

“You, you, you,” you cried, feeling the familiar heat building in your belly and spreading down towards your thighs. “Baekhyun, oh, fuck…” 

“Mmm,” Baekhyun hummed, pleased, pulling you even closer to him. “Such a good girl. You know exactly who you belong to, don’t you? No one else can ever have you like this.” 

Even as far gone as you were, something about his words made you shiver, mind racing with all the ways he could mean those words. You’d accepted that you wanted more from him, more than a late night fuck and feed, but what if he felt the same way?

“No one.” 

Baekhyun pressed the words onto your lips. You clawed at his shoulders, not caring if you marked him, if you left scratches to match the mysterious half-healed slashes across his torso. You wanted him to belong to you, too, if only in one way. 

The kiss sent you closer to your high as your thoughts got the best of you, imagining what your life might be like if you could belong to each other. 

Maybe you could wake up next to him someday, help him with breakfast by frying the bacon while he mixed pancake batter. Or you could fall asleep curled up into his side, hand pressed to his chest, counting his heartbeats. 

“Close,” you whispered. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Baekyun pulled back first from the kiss, one hand in your hair and the other helping you keep your pace, gripped possessively around your hip.

When you finally tumbled over the edge, you could only speak incoherent mumbles and whispers of pleasure into the crook of his neck as your body bowed forward into him. 

Fireworks exploded behind your vision with your climax, a feeling you should have been used to by now, but you still found yourself practically blacking out every time. It was stronger, more powerful since you became a vampire. Like every cell of your body was exploding and putting itself back together again. 

“I got you, pretty, I’m here,” you heard Baekhyun whisper as he thrust into you from below, fucking you through the intense waves of your orgasm. 

The feeling returned to your fingertips what felt like an hour later, even though it was probably only a minute or two, and you found yourself able to open your eyes. You blinked a few times to let your eyes refocus, taking in the sight of Baekhyun so close to you, so close to his peak. 

“Baekhyun, I can’t-” you gasped, willing your trembling thighs to move so you could resume your movements on top of him. It was no use—you just didn’t have the strength. 

Baekhyun moved quickly, easily flipping your positions so that he was above you once more. He remained on his knees, grabbing one of your pillows to shove under your lower back. From this angle, he could wrap your legs around his waist and grind into you at the perfect angle. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, hands scrambling to clutch the sheets underneath of you. All you could do was watch him, devour him with your eyes the same way you had devoured him with your mouth. 

From the moment you met him, you’d thought he was beautiful. It always struck you as unfair that he appeared to be without flaws, as if you had dreamed him up. He just simply couldn’t be real. And if he was real, it was a miracle he wanted anything to do with you. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Baekhyun said through gritted teeth. He was losing control, moving closer and closer to the edge with each deep thrust.

Your fingers squeezed and tugged at the sheets beneath your hands, the only thing you had the physical strength left to do. “Please,” you whined. “I wanna feel you come inside me.”

It didn’t take much longer, only a few more perfect rolls of his hips before he came with a loud, shuddering groan. You felt him spill inside of you, liquid heat that felt like it was never ending. This was your favorite part. It was the closest you could ever feel to him, surrounded in every way. 

Once he had come down, Baekhyun fell forward on top of you, catching himself on his forearms. He breathed deep and heavy, face buried between your neck and your shoulder. You found yourself stroking his back, tracing words into his skin that you couldn’t say out loud. 

When he finally rolled off of you, he didn’t go far, just flopped onto his side next to you. Your breath caught in your throat when he pulled you closer, one arm around your back and the other grazing your shoulder. 

Outside the window, you heard the morning birds begin their chirping. It was easier to focus on their melody than just how close Baekhyun was. Close enough to hear his pulse, quick and strong. 

“You okay?” he asked, nose nudging your jaw. “You get enough?” 

You swallowed, suddenly remembering the whole reason Baekhyun had come over in the first place. Because you both had an itch that needed to be scratched—nothing more. 

“Yeah,” you replied weakly. “I got enough.” 

But he didn’t move, just let his lips rest softly against your neck. It had never been like this before. Soft, quiet, sweet. 

“Why do you only let me feed from you?” you found yourself asking, hand on his chest gently pushing him back. “Why me?” 

Baekhyun’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” you sighed, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. “All your feeding marks are from me. I’m the only one, right?” 

Leaning up onto his elbows, Baekhyun could only shrug as if you’d asked him if he liked sugar in his coffee. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I like you,” Baekhyun offered. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked. Had you heard him wrong? Did he mean it… like that? 

“You like me,” you repeated. 

Baekhyun had the nerve to laugh, just a light, airy chuckle. “That’s what I said. Why am I the only one you feed from?” 

Gulping, you tore your eyes away from him and shook your head. You wanted to deny it—but you both knew it was true. You’d never told him as much, but you wouldn’t be so desperate for him if you could easily get it somewhere else. Correction: you could have, you just didn’t want to.

“Because I like you.” 

When you looked back at Baekhyun, he was grinning, the light catching on the glitter still smeared across his cheeks. He pushed himself to sit up, reaching for your hands. He tugged you closer to him. 

“Yeah? You sure you don’t just like my delicious, mouthwatering blood?” 

You scoffed and shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “It’s not that delicious.” 

Baekhyun laughed again, and this time you had to join him. It felt like it was too good to be true, him wanting you the way you wanted him. You wanted to pinch yourself, just to make sure you hadn’t blacked out and imagined this whole conversation. 

“Since that’s settled,” Baekhyun said, fingers grazing up your arm, your throat, until he was lifting your chin. You saw his affection for you in his eyes, so obvious it made you wonder if you’d been missing it all along. 

When his lips touched yours, it was a kiss unlike any other you’d shared with him before. Deep and slow, like you had all the time in the world. You sighed into his mouth, letting his lips quiet every worry you had racing through your brain. 

“Stay the night,” you said softly once you parted from him. 

Baekhyun smirked, pressing his forehead into yours. “It’s already morning.” 

You glanced at the window, noting the soft glow of the sunrise behind your curtains. “Oh. Never-”

“I’m kidding,” he cut you off, stroking his fingertips across your cheek. “Only if you promise to cook breakfast for me when we wake up. You do eat, right?”

“Yes,” you said with a laugh. “I eat. I don’t need to, but I love food too much not to.” 

“That’s my girl,” he replied in a low tone, giving you goosebumps. 

In order to keep yourself from jumping his bones, you pulled from him and climbed off the bed, searching for the comforter Baekhyun had thrown off the mattress when you’d first laid down. Once you found it, you settled on top of the sheets with him, pulling the blanket over top of your bodies. 

Your memories from before you turned were a blur. Some things you could remember, but it was like they’d happened to somebody else. You knew you’d had a series of unsatisfying one night stands, a couple of boyfriends, and a handful of crushes. You remembered the face of the man who turned you, but not his name or how it happened. A blessing, Kyungsoo told you. 

And although you couldn’t remember the faces of any of your past lovers, you knew without a doubt in your mind that you would never forget Baekhyun. 

You realized as he brought you into his arms that he didn’t just make you feel human, he made you feel like the girl you’d been before. 

[esamastation]

Codywan prompt: CC-2224 was among the command clones whose final exam took place off Kamino at the nearby smugglers haven of Rishi. While performing maneuvers in an abandoned mountainous settlement, three clones were lost to a sudden rockslide, but only two bodies were recoverable, the third having disappeared into the rapids below. Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had been hoping a simple mission to investigate a smuggling ring would go smoothly, but it seems the force had a different plan.

Obi-Wan has a feeling that the whole mission is some kind of ploy by the Jedi Council to force him to take a holiday. It has Yoda's fingerprints all over it.

Rishi moon is desolate in the exact way he strangely enjoys. It's liveable but uninhabitable, with galactic standard atmosphere but no arable soil and no plant life, with only sandy canyons and dunes and dry mountains and rocky plateaus, rough oceans and wild rivers that went whichever they damn well pleased. The swell of the planet on the night sky overhead is magnificent and overpoweringly bright even in night time and there's something terribly beautiful about being on a planet where no one lives.

Obi-Wan has no doubt that it is actually being used by probably thousands of smugglers as convenient place to hide illicitly acquired goods, it's just the sort of place for that kind for thing… but really – the place is so close to one of his old poems given actual physical form that it has to be intentional.

He's not sure if he's mortified or gratified that someone still remembered the thing – or that the Council thought this would be the sort of thing to help him unwind after Anakin nearly got himself killed, again. They're right, in a way, but by force he's not going to admit it.

Tucking up his hood, Obi-Wan breathes in and out, tasting the un-tasted air of the desolate moon, and lets himself be, for a moment, completely alone in the universe.

And then he feels a stuttering song of a life form, not far from him, quivering and unsteady. Someone is on the planet with him – and they aren't doing too well.

Obi-Wan immediately heads for them, of course – he is there on a mission to supposedly investigate smugglers after all, and this person must be one. Who else would be in such a remote, desolate place? And in either case, they're in trouble and as the only living person in several light years, Obi-Wan is likely the only one who could help.

He expects to find a crashed ship, maybe, or one that had been attacked, something of the nature. He doesn't expect to find a single man splayed open a shoreline of a lifeless river, unconscious and half drowning inside his strange, vaguely mandalorian armour.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan murmurs, and forgoes trying to get to the man and simply levitates him off the water, and to himself. The man hangs limb in his hold, raining water from under the white plates, and holding him up in the force Obi-Wan gently checks for his breathing, his pulse.

It's weak, stuttering, but as Obi-Wan enforces the man with Force, it grows stronger. It's obvious he's been knocked about, and he'd almost drowned – there's certainly water in the man's lungs – but he's breathing and he's going to live. Obi-Wan touches the helmet, considering it, but… who knows, he might be from the Watch. It sounds like the helmet is offering some oxygen to the man, as it is. Best leave it.

"Well then," Obi-Wan murmurs, manoeuvring the man around with force and then lets him drop into his own awaiting arms. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, shall we?"

The way to his ship is too long – and it's one-seater anyway – so Obi-Wan searches in the Force until he finds a sheltered place, warm and welcoming in the Force. Obi-Wan could swoon at the sight of the place, when he makes it there – it's a cave in front of a natural hot spring.

"The very universe is conspiring to please me today," Obi-Wan sighs. "Keep this up and I will start waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or perhaps fear my own upcoming doom!"

He lays his rescuee on the warm rocks, making the man as comfortable as he can without removing the armour, and sits down to wait – soaking his feet in the water and trying to restrain himself from stripping and plunging right in. The man he saved is likely not the most trustworthy sort – better not risk it… just yet anyway.

Hedonism, this whole mission is pure Obi-Wan specific hedonism. Stars, Obi-Wan almost fears for whatever unpleasantness the Council is pre-emptively trying to make amends for this time.

-

Obi-Wan is meditating and almost dozing off in a pleasant, warm haze, when the armoured fellow finally wakes up. He does it in a strange mixture of relief, trust and comfort – and then, clashing all of that, he spots Obi-Wan and aims his blaster at him. The cycling of emotions is so rapid and sharp, that Obi-Wan doesn't even have the chance to reach for his lightsaber.

"Hello there – please don't shoot," Obi-Wan says as pleasantly as he can. "Be a shame to stain this fine pool with blood. Especially since I have done you no harm."

The blaster doesn't waver. "Who are you?" the man demands.

Obi-Wan smiles – he'd given a good deal of thought for his cover story, and had decided to go with the desert hobo one. He doesn't have the ship to play the smuggler, and he isn't dressed for it either – and who else would have any reason to come to a place like this, anyway? The desert hobo is an act that feels truest to his actual personality, too – even if it's only a secret part of him that only tends to come out in secret and poetry.

But what can he say – Rishi moon is beautiful.

"My name is Ben – I found you by the shore over there," he points towards the river, "half drowned and knocked about, judging by the looks of you. I think you took a tumble into the rapids, there. I picked you up and brought you here so that you'd get to recover and hopefully not get a cold."

There's a moment of silence, and then the man says, bland, "Colds are caused by viral infectious diseases not present on Rishi moon. The moon is barren."

"… you are right about that, but you still would have gotten cold," Obi-Wan says, not sure if to be amused or amazed. "Frostbite is no fun either."

"The temperatures here don't get low enough."

"Well, you're a very reassuring sort of man, aren't you," Obi-Wan says, amused. "I suppose you're alright then. Do you mind not pointing that thing at me, though? It's the least comforting thing about you."

There's a moment of hesitation, and then the armoured man puts the gun away. "Ben," he says slowly. "Your name is Ben."

"Yes?" Obi-Wan agrees, a little guiltily. It wasn't exactly a lie – he was known as Ben on some planet. Well, one planet. And now one moon. "That's me – how about you?"

The man doesn't answer, sitting up slowly and shoving his blaster into the holster. Then, watching Obi-Wan carefully, he checks his gauntlet, tapping something into a keypad and then lowering his arm. "Why are you here, Ben?"

Obi-Wan hums and then smiles, looking away. Interesting, very interesting. "I love places like these," he says, motioning to the vista in front of them, the open canyons carved into the landscape by the wild rivers. "There's so little in the galaxy that's so untouched. This place is so little use to so few people, so it's been left be. The only thing that's made any difference here is the wind, the weather, and the pull of the planet, and nothing else. It's… glorious."

Even through the armour he can tell the man he'd fished from the river is giving him an incredulous look. "Glorious?" he repeats.

"Nature of wild things," Obi-Wan agrees and kicks his foot in the water, sending ripples racing over the surface. "Wild nature and desolation of the universe, utter loneliness. We two are likely the only living souls on this whole system, with nothing but the emptiness of the universe all around us. It's glorious."

The armoured man just stares at him for a long, long time. Obi-Wan smiles a little wider as the armoured man looks up to the sky, like he's searching for what Obi-Wan is seeing. He hopes the man does see it.

"Glorious," the armoured man repeats. "Hm."

Obi-Wan grins wider and looks up as well. This is going to be a great mission, he can already tell. Maybe it will even be worth whatever indignity the Council would throw at him next. Who knows. For now, Obi-Wan thinks he's going to enjoy the company in loneliness and see what came of it.

-

And then they have adventures in Rishi moon while Obi-Wan shamelessly waxes poetry about desolate places and canyons and stuff and eventually gets to take his dip in the hot spring and Cody gets smacked over the head with “oh no, he’s completely ridiculous, I must protect him with my life.”

Not exactly what you asked for, but for a moment I got to live in a world where Obi-Wan might actually enjoy living on Tatooine one day and that was nice. Maybe Cody will live there too, enduring Obi-Wan’s bad poetry about the desert into his old age. That’d be nice too.

[pemfrost]

For the bingo what about spideydevil hogwarts AU . Good luck on your bingo!!

Thank you if you do it.

Thanks for the prompt :D

So, this is like 3 times longer than I wanted to make these bingo fics lmao. Oops 🤷‍♀️. It still could use some polishing, but I'm terrified that Peter will find another plot thread if I poke at it anymore.

Bingo fic 1/?

As much as he devoted himself to studying, Peter could not bring himself to care about Divination. The whole class reminded him of cringe inducing hacks he'd seen on t.v. growing up. Except, no one was jumping out with hidden footage to debunk it. Everything appeared hollow: randomness assigned meaning. And, while Peter didn't often procrastinate, he found it harder and harder to work on his Divination homework the more weeks that passed. 

There was one silver lining, though. Another student, one he'd held a torch for from afar, was in the class with him. That too, turned out to be hollow and meaningless until today. Despite having a class together, Peter still had no real reason to approach Matt. However, he stumbled into the opportunity in his usual Parker way: completely on accident. 

His procrastination on his Divination assignments reached a plateau, and, despite his ability to work quickly under pressure, Peter was late to class. When he'd finally made it -ten minutes late and scribbling the last lines on his essay- he'd thought the repercussion would be a lecture. Or detention. The usual stuff Hogwarts professors liked to through his way.

Instead, the professor welcomed him to class in her airy way and quietly assigned him a partner for the project she was currently guiding the class through. "Ah, Mr. Murdock, please join Peter for the remainder of class." 

By stoke of luck, Matthew Murdock had been an unlucky third wheel in another group, and made no fuss about changing seats. His usual partner was in the infirmary; the exact cause was the subject of many rumors. Peter was rather fond of the theory that Foggy was involved in a fight with the group of slytherins who often tired to bully Matt, but anyone involved was keeping their lips zipped tight. 

It wasn't a glamorous impression, but Peter was thankful for the opportunity. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" Matt crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back in the cozy chair across from Peter. He nodded to the steaming cup of tea in front of him, raising an eyebrow. 

Peter nodded, then mentally kicked himself and verbally answered, "Yeah. I read over the basics last night." 

It was a basic tea leaf reading, and the set up was quite straightforward. The professor was kind enough to provide hot water and a selection of tea leaves at each table. Though, she did note they would have a better reading with their own supplies. 

"Good. I started my tea already, so you can read mine while yours-"

"Mr. Murdock." The professor tapped the cup in front of him with her wand. "You must start over. The leaves are easier for your partner to interpret when they are brewed just for them." With a flick of her wand, his cup was replaced with an empty one and she glided off towards another set of students. 

Matt sighed and reached for the tea selection, deftly selected Earl Grey and pinched a healthy amount of leaves into his cup. Peter followed suit, choosing one at random without reading the labels.

"Don't you care for tea?" Matt's gaze was slightly to the left of where Peter sat, his face not giving away his thoughts. 

"I do, I'm just not picky." His pulse quickened. This was the most they'd spoken in years. He watched Matt's hands as he poured the hot water into their cups, tracing the calluses earned from long hours in the greenhouse. 

"Now we wait." Matt sat the pot back to the side of the table and leaned back in his chair. 

The tea would need to steep for at least three minutes. There were many things to do during that time to ensure a good reading, or so the professor said. Holding the cup and thinking about what you wanted the leaves to tell you seemed like a good option, but Peter really didn't believe in fortune telling enough to meditate over his tea. Another method was to talk to the person who was going to do your reading. And the third, and one Matt seemed keen on, was to silently wait and let what happens happen. 

In Peter's opinion, silence was something to be broken

"Uh," Peter shifted nervously as watched the steam rise from his cup, "how is Foggy? That was a hell of a match last night, shame he missed it."

"He's fine." Matt's voice was flat. "He should be discharged in time for dinner."

"That's… good to hear." Peter eyed him nervously. Matt was a year ahead of him and in a different house, meaning they had very few direct interactions. Yet, Peter knew a good amount about him. Or, rather, he knew what the Daily Prophet said and what he'd observed with his own eyes didn't always match and had drawn his own conclusions. 

Coming from a muggle family meant Peter had very little frame of reference for most things, and he could only try to compare having an Auror as a father to having one who was a cop. Matt was a third year when his father was targeted by a group of dark wizards and Matt was caught in the crossfire. 

Peter, always in search of knowledge, desperately wanted to know which curse caused Matt to lose his vision, and which spells gave him a sense of the world around him. As far as he could tell there was no braille equivalent in the Wizarding World. He didn't ask, of course. He had more sense than that, even in the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to know Matt first, because he seemed like a cool -and handsome- guy.

Even if he was callous enough to just ask, it wasn't like he had many opportunities to do so. This was actually their first class together in Peter's six years at Hogwarts- and would be the only one since Matt would be graduating in a few months. 

Despite having no real social interactions, Peter was well aware of Matt, and would have been even if his story wasn't in the papers for months. The very first time Peter stepped foot into Hogwarts, he was so enthralled with the majesty and magic of the castle -- until he spotted Matt. It was silly, and, even though Peter couldn't name the sensation back then, that moment stuck with him. 

Peter had read everything he could prior to entering Hogwarts, dreading being behind his peers who grew up in the Wizarding World. His heart was set on Ravenclaw, drawn in by the lure of knowledge and like-minded students. That was until he locked eyes with Matt from across the hall and, for a brief moment, yearned to be adorned in red and gold. Reason won, and he was proud to be sorted into Ravenclaw. But, part of him always wondered. 

"Thank you." Matt's voice jolted him from his reminiscing. 

Peter wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve thanks, so he deflected with a joke. "Hey, I'd be thankful too if someone rescued me from the 'Dream Couple'. More like 'Most Annoying Couple'." He tapped his index finger on the table towards students Matt was originally teamed with, rolling his eyes at how closely they sat together.

A small chuckle escaped Matt and Peter's chest puffed with pride. Matt was such a serious person, he hardly ever smiled or laughed, and then it was almost exclusively with Foggy. 

"For that, too, I suppose. I meant to thank you for being the only person in this class… probably the school… who hasn't ask me… about… it."

Oh. Peter looked away, embarrassed by how many questions he truly wanted to ask while simultaneously reeling from the fact Matt apparently paid enough attention to notice. "It's not my business. Besides, there's way more things I'd like to pick your brain about."

Matt raised an eyebrow, "Like?"

Peter opened his mouth to list off a litany of botany questions, but was cut off before he managed a single syllable. The professor stared down at them, "It's been long enough, time to drink your tea, be sure to do your rotations. Read the leaves immediately, take notes on your findings before looking up their meanings. Then, give your reading to your partner. Ideally, you will know each common symbol by heart by the end of the term, but for now use your books."

They dropped the conversation, following her instructions and downing their tea. Peter was pleased with his random choice, noting hints of citrus. 

"Here," he pushed his empty cup towards Matt. As he took Matt's cup, he wondered how Matt would read his leaves, but didn't ask. 

Peter peered into Matt’s cup, trying to find patterns in the chaos of leaves. Eventually, his eyes focused on the task and he could make out what he thought were symbols. He wrote down his list and set the cup and notebook on the table. 

Across from him, Matt was focused on Peter's cup. He ran his wand over it, then his hand, then with a flick of his wand his quill automatically made a note. 

"You'll have to teach me that sometime," Peter said before he could stop himself. 

Matt paused, lips pursed.

Peter continued, "If I could direct my quill to write, it would save a lot of time when I'm trying new potion ingredient substitutes. The constant starting and stopping to note every step and change I make is such a juggle."

"That's pretty dangerous," Matt said with an amused lilt to his voice. "Though, I suppose teaching you that would make it slightly more safe."

"Yea, it would be negligent for you not to," Peter's heart raced as he teased the handsome student across from him. 

"We should probably do the readings." Matt shifted, "But we'll figure out a time that we're both free, yeah?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah."

"I'll start, if that's okay."

"Uh, yeah. Did you need to look up your symbols? 'Cuz I have no idea what some of these mean."

Matt heaved a large reference book into his lap, "I'm doing it on the fly. Let's see…" He waved his wand over the pages and ran his index finger over the text. 

Peter didn't put much stock into fortune telling, but he was curious what Matt would read in the leaves. 

"So, your leaves are interesting. There is a small ring or letter 'O' at the top, so either a love interest is close or you have something important with someone with an 'O' name." He continued on without waiting for Peter's reaction or input, "There is a spider that spans both the present and future, which could mean you have a choice to make soon which will have a huge impact on your life. But, there is a smaller thing that could be a spider, too? So maybe you have a lot of choices to make?"

Peter shrugged. The close love interest piqued his interest, though he was more curious what Matt would say about it. Maybe he would be given a beacon of hope, a sign that Matt noticed him too. 

"Ah, and this at the bottom! It's a very clear anchor, meaning a stable future." Matt tilted his head towards Peter, "You do not seem impressed with your reading."

"Nothing personal, I just don't think these things are more than carnival tricks and fun games."

"Fair enough," Matt chuckled and set his notes to the side, folded his arms on the table and leaned in. "Now mine."

Right, Peter had to figure out Matt's. He pulled out his own book and looked over the page of symbols. "Well, let's start with what I know without reading paragraphs of contradictory symbology. So, there is a ring -or 'O'- at the bottom and it's pretty big. Future relationship? Or someone with an 'O' name? And there is a smaller one of the same in the present."

He paused to look at his notes. "Uh… I think this is a ladder? Which means travel in your future. And a Knife in the future meaning a fight. Umm, I wrote down a snake, but it could be a worm? Which… is a bad omen or a secret enemy."

Peter glanced up at Matt, and was about to apologize for accidentally reading a bad future for him when the Professor approached their table. 

"Ah, let's take a look, then, shall we?" She gently plucked Peter's tea cup up from in front of Matt and swept her eyes over the leaves. "Oh, my. You have a small romantic notion towards someone that has lasted a while but hasn't grown into anything more. You have several challenges which will appear in the near future and your decision to take them on or ignore them will drastically shape your life. Those choices are why a lot of your future is fuzzy, but if you remain true to yourself there is great prosperity and even greater love waiting for you."

She looked over Matt's notes and pointed out the symbols he missed. Peter sighed, he was ready for the class to end. At least he had his study not-date with Matt to look forward to. 

"Let's have a look at the other one," She said as she lifted Matt's cup from where Peter set it. "You have a recent romantic notion, it is small and very new, but you will have a journey before it can grow. There are a lot of small victories in your future, but they can be overshadowed by betrayal. I see a powerful romance in the future, but it could be lost if you're not careful."

Matt seemed to hang on every word, but quickly folded his arms when the Professor finished her own reading. Was he taking it seriously? Peter made a note to ask later. There were some interesting parallels between their readings, giving Peter a sliver of hope of his feelings being returned despite the absurdity of fortune telling. 

"Overall, not bad for your first times. Keep studying, there will be a practical component to the final." With that, she drifted towards another group, leaving Peter and Matt to clean up. 

"You're a muggleborn, aren't you?" Matt wasn't looking at him, but Peter could feel the weight of his attention pinning him to his chair. "Foggy is too," Matt added quickly, "and has the same opinions on this," he waved his hand generally. 

"Ah, yea. It's a bit… "

"I get it. Don't worry, no judgment here. Still, the reading was a bit uncanny."

Peter huffed. "It's easy to assign meaning to a vague set of events."

"Is that so?" Matt tilted his head. 

"We're teens, so it's not uncommon to have a crush. And everyone has a journey at some point, or choices to make. That's life. And it's not unusual to get married later in your life."

"True." He calmly began to clean the table. A swish of his wand and his cup was clean. "So, you do not deny liking someone."

Well, that was unexpected. Peter sputtered, searching for a string of words to put together as his pulse raced. "I- well- that's- I-"

Matt had the audacity to laugh at him, and the sound alone was almost enough to make Peter's embarrassment worth it. Almost. "Why so embarrassed, I thought it wasn't uncommon?"

Peter busied himself with clearing his side of the table. "So, you're not denying it yourself?" He leaned into the hope the conversation sparked, imagining his feelings being returned. Tea leaves be damned, Peter made his own fate, and if he was given the chance there was no amount of future-telling that could ruin what he felt for Matt.

Their conversation dropped when the professor requested everyone's attention for a short lecture before the end of class. It was important information they would need for their test, but Peter's attention drifted to Matt. By the upward tilt of Matt’s lips, he was well aware of Peter's distraction. 

There was a flurry of activity after class, and Peter didn't have any chance to speak with him further. However, Matt was true to his word and sought Peter out over the weekend. The weather was fair, creating the perfect opportunity to study together outside and away from the prying eyes of their classmates. They found a shaded area and set up their makeshift study session under the shade of a tree.

"I think I got it." Peter waved his wand over a fresh piece of parchment, whispering the spell Matt taught him. The tree bark dug into his back, and Matt’s cologne was distracting, but he could feel the tingle of the spell working. His quill sprung to work, jotting down a few lines of potion ingredients before sputtering out and falling to the page. As it rolled to the side, he sighed and leaned his head against the tree. 

"It takes practice to keep it writing longer, but you've done more than I expected for your first lesson. You really are every bit the genius they say."

"People talk about me?" Peter was top of his class, but he didn't think his grades warranted discussion with the 7th years. 

Matt shrugged and knocked his shoulder into Peter's. "I may have asked around."

Peter's heart somersaulted. "Oh? What, uh, else did 'they' say?"

"That you're a smart ass."

Peter nodded and leaned towards Matt, "Go on."

"Peter…" Matt's breath ghosted over his cheek sending a thrill up his spine. 

"Matt…" Peter continued forward, gently pressing his lips against Matt's. For a brief moment, Matt pressed back; then suddenly there was a large distance between them. 

Peter's lips felt cold. 

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't be, I-I kissed you." Peter fumbled to put his quill and notebook into his bag. "I thought-"

"Peter." Matt's voice was soft, unsure. "It wouldn't be fair to you."

Peter stared down at his notes, trying to make sense of what Matt was saying. 

"I graduate in a few months." He held up a hand when Peter started to protest, "and I've just been accepted into a school in Germany. I leave right after graduation to get a head start with their summer law program."

"But-"

"We would have an expiration date, Peter." Matt's eyes were closed. There was a rigidness to his posture which made Peter suspect there was more he wasn't saying. 

"Ok. Then just friends."

Matt inhaled sharply, like he hadn't expected Peter's reaction. "Friends. Yea, I'd like that."

With that, they settled into a rhythm for the rest of the school year. Studying together when time allowed, ignoring the tension between them whenever they accidentally touched. Whenever the tightness in his chest returned, Peter reminded himself of their tea readings and imagined a future where they shared a happy ending.

----

Woo, thanks for reading!

There is a part two I'm working on where they reunite as professors several years later. I actually started that first then switched gears when Peter made a reference to their past. Hopefully I'll finish it soon so it's not so much of a cliffhanger lol.