#there's a GALAXY'S worth of stories to be told

[americankimchi]

god i wish they hadn't retconned maul's death. i get wanting to explore more of his character because he was, objectively, one of the coolest star wars characters to ever hit the big screen and didn't get much screentime prior to his death, but also his role was fulfilled perfectly within those constraints so i wasn't too upset by it.

but by retconning it and making it so he never died it's like. okay. what now? the whole point (well, to me, ymmv of course) of the theed generator fight was that it was the first ever fight between the jedi and the sith in thousands of years, and that in the end even though the jedi (obi-wan) won the fight, a jedi (qui-gon) and a sith (maul) still died. a master and an apprentice dying together to herald the start of a new age/the return of the sith. perfectly paralleling the way in rotj a master (palps) and an apprentice (anakin/vader) died together to herald the return of the jedi. in both instances, a father figure (qui-gon/vader) dies in the arms of their son (obi-wan/luke) as a sith (palps/maul) is cast down into the abyss to their deaths. (palps being alive in the ST and retconning his death in rotj is also annoying for this reason)

i mean i like maul. don't get me wrong. he's an incredibly compelling character and i enjoy seeing more of him... but there's always the thought hovering in my mind like "he should be dead though. he should 100% be dead. this wouldn't be happening if he was dead, but i honestly would rather it not if it meant that maul was dead."

like the tpm fight just doesn't hit the same knowing that canonically he's just. going to become a robot octopus at some point. (shoutout to palps becoming sith glados in the ST) it cheapens the moment for me. it was supposed to be a moment of triumph marred by the deep and soul-crushing loss of a loved one and it's just... not, anymore. or at least not to the same extent. AUGH i'm just. frustrated. wish star wars as a whole wasn't constantly reframing/retconning what's been established. just puts a bad taste in my mouth.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

The Reunion of Lion and Guilliman

It’s a big deal, of course. The primarchs, resplendent in their armor, formally greet each other and shake hands on a dais. Lights flash around them as pict after pict is taken, servo skulls hovering close as they furiously record the occasion. Thousands of their sons stand to attention, organized by chapter in perfect parade formation, a rainbow of colors and heraldry buffed to an exquisite sheen. The great and good of the Imperium fill the audience, each weighed down with garments and jewelry worth whole planets. Speeches are given, glorious words about brotherhood and friendship and strength in the darkest hours. Outside, pilgrims swoon in ecstatic frenzy at the glory of the moment.

The real reunion takes place after the festivities die down. The primarchs remove their armor and retreat to a room that has been hastily cleaned after millennia of disuse for just this purpose. It is a humble room, no more than a lounge, made for casual conversation and socialization. Its unique quality are the dimensions of the furniture, for this room was made for a very specific group of brothers—brothers who, bar two, are now gone.

Lion sniffs at an arrangement of bottles on one of the tables. “Mjod,” he growls.

“The Space Wolves were generous,” Guilliman says.

“Is this really necessary?” Lion frowns.

Guilliman says nothing, only raises an eyebrow at him. Him, and the rest of the galaxy, and the state of humanity, and the crumbling Imperium. Lion considers his life and the future awaiting him. Then he seizes a bottle and downs it in one go.

Hours pass. There is laughter, and there are tears. Stories old and new are shared. There is considerable commentary on the current Imperium—commentary that, should it have come from lesser men, may have been described as complaining. A full ten minutes are devoted to cherubs alone. (“I spent a week shooting them down until someone told me what they were.” “I swear by Terra herself, I thought they were Chaos abominations.”)

There is no fighting. That will come, eventually; tomorrow, or in a week, or a month. They are very different people, with different ideas and plans, and both are proud men disinclined to compromise. Conflict is inevitable. But not tonight. Each has lost too much to sacrifice this rare moment with his only surviving peer.

The night winds on. Bottle after bottle is consumed. Lion’s tabard lies discarded on an armchair. Guilliman’s laurels hang from a lamp. Both are flushed with mjod, hair flying free of carefully coiffed hairdos. Lion is lying on the floor, hands folded neatly across his chest, staring into the middle distance at the ceiling. Guilliman is facedown on a couch, muffled muttering emanating occasionally from his body.

A thought dawns on the Lion. It is a joke he heard once from M’kia. Lion is ambivalent on the topic of jokes, but this one fits the current situation too well to be ignored.

“Brother,” he says, “I have realized something.”

A grunt issues from Guilliman, signaling him to continue. Lion begins the joke.

“It occurs to me that if I had a throne for every time the galaxy was split by a warpstorm, and you asked me for help running the Imperium, I would have two thrones. Which isn’t much, but it is strange that it happened twice.”

Silence. Guilliman’s shoulders shake as muffled sobbing emits from the couch.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔...

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : angst, friends with benefits, forbidden love/"we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, hints at friendship betrayal, the pain hits more if you've read main story ch8 and xavier's myth ch5, kissing and making out, mentions of nipple play, mentions of oral (f and m receiving), fingering, clit play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 4.5k

an : LOOK. BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING. before you "roxie... what—" me !!!!! writing for him is probably a one-time thing, but listen. he's CUTE!!! and if he's cute, i will write for him...!!!!! (sorry, xavier)

You didn't really know when it started.

After all, what were the odds for you to be strolling around long enough, just to chance across this quaint little flower shop that would eventually became part of your every being?

He'd been arranging some flowers out in the front when you first saw him, light brown, curly hair shining with a gleam under the sunlight. He was humming some kind of tune—it wasn't one you particularly knew, and yet, oddly enough, it was one you found familiar, in ways you couldn't really describe.

In retrospect, the flowers were pretty. Pastel colors blending in with limes and greens, a splash of vibrancy against a largely black exterior. Blues and yellows seemed to be predominant amongst the hues, almost tiny and star-like—a galaxy of flowers, you remember thinking.

And something about it had you easily magnetized.

"Hi!" You'd walked up to him without really thinking; lamely telling yourself in your head, that, hey, maybe your apartment could use some extra decorating...!

(It didn't, but now that you'd approached the florist like this, you felt compelled to at least buy something.)

Jeremiah, however, had been completely spooked by your sudden appearance. One look at you, and his eyes went wide and his humming immediately ceased—you could have sworn a hint of recognition had passed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could truly make out what it was that you saw.

"W-whoah!" he'd laughed, hints of both nervousness and awkwardness glaringly obvious to you—and any busybody that happened to be passing by, for that matter. "Uh!? Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone so, um... Early?"

You could feel it was a feeble excuse.

Sure, it had been your day off, and sure, maybe it was odd for you to be out and about in the morning at all—but it hadn't been that early. You almost wanted to say something about it out loud... but something in you told you to cut him some slack.

Instead, you'd offered a smile.

"No, I'm sorry. Are you not open yet? You have some beautiful flowers, and I couldn't help but want to look at them a little..."

It was amusing to you how easy his expressions were to read. They had changed seamlessly from bewilderment to joy, and he instantly gestured inside. "Oh! We are open! Wow, maybe I'm just really distracted this morning, haha! But hey, thanks, I'm actually pretty proud if them myself. Though I get some help from a friend in taking care of them, I think they're pretty too..."

You'd known from the start that he was quite the talker, but as a smile played on your lips, you thought that you didn't really mind so much, anyway.

He looked cute, and his voice was just as cute.

But the store, you later realized, would take your breath away in an instant.

The inside was just as majestic as the outside. You found that despite the fact that it looked rather small from a distance, its exterior was actually quite misleading. The inside was beautiful—a floor and a loft worth of flowers, and, you could spot all the way in the back, a door that seemed to be leading out into a garden.

And was that... a greenhouse?!

He had probably noticed the awe on your face when you stepped in, and couldn't help but chuckle. "You like?" he grinned, obvious pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Well... yeah! I can't belive I haven't found this place before. Don't you get a lot of customers?"

"Hmm... Sometimes. Depends on the day, really. But as it goes, if you know the place, then you know, right? Welcome to Philo!"

He turned momentarily before offering you a single yellow blossom, its petals unfurling like puffs in your hand.

You eyed it curiously.

"This, is...?"

"It's a zinnia flower. I thought its colour matched your eyes a little, so think of it as something to keep you company while you look around!"

That day, you picked out a lovely bouquet of little blue periwinkles, and learned that his name was Jeremiah.

From then on, you would chance upon him more, and more, and more—taking the occasional detour whenever you were free, or even timing your lunch breaks enough so to at least be able to catch a glimpse. For the flowers, of course, you would tell yourself, because each visit, Jeremiah would give you a single stem. "On the house!" he would say, and you would smile.

The first day you met, he'd given you a yellow zinnia.

The second day you met, he'd given you a sunflower.

The third day you met, he'd given you a white camellia.

And the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and onwards—a single flower, handed over with a dismissive excuse of it going with your hair, or your outfit, or your smile—most often accompanied by a nonchalant remark on how pretty you looked.

Sometimes, after that, you'd talk a little. He would ask you about your day, and you would ask him about his day... You've even learned, by now, the things that he liked. Flowers, a given, but also literature—poetry. Though he remarked that lately he hadn't gotten around to reading anything, he's always been quite fond of them.

You found that these little tidbits made him feel less... mysterious, in a sense, and more real. It went without saying that the more you went over to visit, the longer you'd stay—the longer you'd stay, the louder your heart would beat.

In the end, it wouldn't take long before you realized it yourself, but you were no longer going to Philo for simply... the flowers.

And on one particular night, having made it just in time for closing hours, things had started taking a different turn.

...That night had started off innocent.

Cheerful greetings, cheerful chatter—now, you'd grown accustomed to telling him all about how your day or how your week had gone, and then you would never fail to fluster at the way he'd listen to you so attentively. His eyes, you realized, were almost as bright as the sun—honey-brown like his hair, with specks and glimmers of sapphire when the light hit just right enough. If anything else, you thought that a sunflower suited him better than it did you—the cheerful bounce in his curls, and the way his laugh would tinkle in the air and send butterflies into your stomach without even trying.

Perhaps, down bad was an understatement for you.

But no matter how close you had gotten to this boy, you couldn't help but feel as if there was an unknown barrier between the two of you.

That night, Jeremiah gave you a rose.

Cleaned of its thorns, and as pure and pristine as all the other white flowers he'd housed in his store—he tucked it behind your ear, and his gaze softened in a way that you had never seen before.

The air between you was heavy.

But neither of you would make a definitive move.

"Hey, so how are the flowers all doing?" He broke the silence, but his eyes remained steely on yours.

"I'm... taking care of them like I promised to. I still have that bouquet, and I still have all of the other ones you gave me..."

"Hmm." A smile played at his lips, and then he began to list the recent flowers he'd given to you, for the past couple of weeks of your sporadic visits—

"Let's see. Azalea, petunia, iris, lily... a yellow tulip, some lavender—" He stopped, and amusement shone in his eyes. "Hey, don't tell me you're keeping them all in one vase! And with the others, too? That won't make for a pretty bouquet, you know, the colours will all just clash too much!"

You watched as he laughed, but your eyes only furrowed. "What do you mean? I don't have a greenhouse like you do! Might I remind you that I live in an apartment?!"

"I know, I know! But... You didn't really have to keep them..."

"Why not? They're from you..."

Jeremiah's gaze softened.

And then, again, came that same, pensive silence.

And again, you felt like you were drawn to him.

You couldn't have known why.

Despite whatever butterflies and giddiness he'd often bring upon you, it wasn't as if you'd spent all that much time with him—perhaps, you'd try to visit every week if you could, but that was it, wasn't it? A small chat, a few glances... a flower, and then a wave goodbye—

Yet here you were, like a moth to a flame.

"Penny for your thoughts, milady?" he mumbled out as if to bring you out of your reverie, but it almost seemed to you that he was having the same trepidations.

And that nickname.

He would call you by it often—it fell from his lips almost naturally, and then onto your ears equally as naturally. You've always liked the sound of it, reveling in the way he would treat you so sweetly like this, smiling to yourself at the way his eyes would squint in joy whenever he said it.

But, in this situation....

...Closer.

You chanced it, this feeling, and leaned in.

Jeremiah drew in a shaky breath... but he didn't move.

Instead, his eyes—so telling, his eyes—would move downwards over your face, before settling onto your lips.

"...'Miah," you whispered, and you saw him gulp at the nickname. "Can I kiss you?"

Moths, near a flame, never end well. Surely they don't.

But Jeremiah, despite knowing that, had never been happier to oblige.

That night, was the first night he had kissed you. The first time that both of you had given into the thrumming of temptation always in the air; the first time he had you pressed against his counter, hands roaming fondly over your body, kissing you almost as if his life depended on it.

And from that night forward, things changed substantially.

Weekly visits turned to daily—nightly. Chancing upon closing hours became more planned and deliberate, and then the situation would be the same. Lips crashing upon lips, fingers gripping tightly onto fistfuls of hair, the soft resounding of hushed moans into each others mouths.

You no longer remembered when he started becoming more daring, either. When he started sliding his hands underneath your top, when he started kissing at your neck, fingers rubbing your nipples fondly... You don't remember when you made it into his bedroom, having him trace his hands over your thighs, pushing you apart, fingers slipping into your cunt and sliding through your folds in a way that had you absolutely speechless. Or, neither could you remember how on some nights, he had his head between your legs—licking, and sucking, and eating you out, waves of pleasure coarsing through your veins like never before.

No, at this point, you really didn't remember—how many times your night had been filled with him, how many times you would come all over his mouth—his fingers—

How many times you'd moaned his name.

Perhaps, you thought, it might have been the same for him. Your hands, pumping his cock with fervor, tongue swirling around his tip, drinking up ever last drop of cum he would offer you. You knew, by now, that he loved it when your fingers fell through his hair, stroking fondly at his curled tresses, or digging into his scalp as a testament to your passion.

And yet, you'd never gone further.

Each night, you would see a hint of regret flash in his eyes, and though he would hold you, and kiss you, and do everything to ensure you would sleep soundly right beside him...

The ambiguity of your relationship was clear.

The nights would be for pleasure, but there would be nothing more.

No professions of love, no promises of commitment...

Perhaps, the butterflies you'd always felt around him, had also simmered down to nothing but racing heartbeats in anticipation of his touch.

"Does that feel good, pretty?"

Now, Jeremiah had his fingers in your pussy, drinking up the lust in your eyes, watching the way your mouth would hang open in breathless pants.

"Mhm... 'Miah... 'Miah, you're so good..."

He smiled up at you, thumb grazing over your clit, sighing when your head fell back with another moan.

"Staying quiet really was never your strong suit, huh? I love having you like this. You're so, pretty for me, my lady... So pretty..."

"M-Mia—aahn—"

He leaned up to kiss you, his lips feeling home on yours, your back arching to meet the thrust of his fingers.

"You're adorble," he mumbled, lightly onto your lips when he pulled back. "Really adorable. So adorable, damn, I'm so lucky."

Another moan from your mouth, and you tensed beneath him. "C-close!" you cried, "M'gonna— gonna cum!"

"Mhm? Real close, huh, pretty?"

His finger brushed on the spongy spot in your walls, and your high came crashing immediately.

"'Miah! Oh, fuck—'Miah, 'Miah— Jeremiah—"

You groaned as he rode out your orgasm, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, drenched in your slick, and you trembled beneath him with pleasure.

"'Miah..."

"Aww... Now I'm hard for you again..." He almost whined as he pressed against you, the feeling of his bare cock on your folds making you hiss in pleasure.

"Should I..." you panted, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "Do you want me to suck you off again?"

Your offer came out genuinely, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as if to prepare yourself—but he shook his head, guiding you back down. Jeremiah smiled and placed kisses all over your face, rolling over to lay down next of you as if to make a point. "No need, princess. We've done enough for tonight, right?"

You expected this.

Jeremiah never went too far; always keeping your activities to a minimum, always shaking his head when you asked for more. His self control was impeccable—but it was ironic, almost, considering that these activities had already very much become a nightly adventure.

But you pouted.

Instinctively, you reached out a hand for him to hold; "Why do you hold yourself back when you're with me?"

"What do you mean?"

You could at scoffed at the obviously feigned innocence on his face when he turned to look at you.

"This. You won't let this go... further. Like there's—there's something stopping you, or..." You paused, and squeezed his hand "Jeremiah, what... are we? What are we doing?"

It was a question you'd never dared to ask, but one that you had always felt burning in the back of your mind.

He didn't answer immediately.

You probed him further.

"Even when we're like this, it's almost like... You're still so far away from me. I just... I want to understand where this is all coming from, because, 'Miah, I think I—"

"Don't..."

His voice, interrupting you, was twinged with guilt. He shifted closer enough to cradle you into his chest.

"We're just... We're friends, right? Who just... fool around, from time to time..."

The more words fell out of his mouth, the more he seemed to sound... regretful.

You looked up at him with a searching gaze. "Is that why you'll never really go further than this? Because we're... friends."

He nodded, slowly.

But something wasn't sitting right with you.

It was almost as if he knew something; as if he was hiding something so desperately from you that it was taking every ounce of his being not to give in and tell you everything.

"'Miah..."

"...Ah, fuck—please. Not that nickname, not right now..."

You couldn't understand the pain in his voice.

"...Jeremiah, then."

He looked at you, chewing on the inside of his lower lip, and his eyes held a glimmer of something you couldn't quite understand.

"Do you... Want this, Jeremiah? Is it... Is it not enjoyable for you? If— If you don't want to anymore, then we could just—"

"N-no! It is! God, it is! You're so perfect for me, princ—" the nickname caught in his throat, and he gulped. "Y-you... You always feel so good. I more than want it, I love doing this with you—!"

"Then why are you so sad?"

Your words hung in the air, the silence that followed laying thick with a mix of your emotions. It was almost like he took a moment to process the truth of what you'd said, and then he looked away, gaze flitting to the bedsheets, grip tight around your arms.

"'Miah..."

"No, don't... I— Please. Please, I just—I want you so bad. To have you beneath me—to fuck you, to make love to you... You don't even know how much. And even more than that, I... The more we do this, the more I realize that I don’t want to just fool around with you..."

"Then why don't you? Jeremiah... all this time, I—"

"You're not mine."

You paused. His voice came out barely a whisper, and though he refused to look at you, you could make out the tiny glistening of tears in his eyes.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You... You belong to someone else—"

"No, I don't! I don't have any other man in my life, 'Miah, you know this—"

"But you should!"

"...What? What are you saying?"

He finally looked at you, moving you onto your back once more, clear, pure conflict in his eyes, even as he leaned down to nip at your jawline. His hot, warm breaths were against your skin once more. Immediately you felt your hair raise up, all manner of thoughts seeping through your mind in an instant, desire stirring inside of you—

"'M-Miah..." You drew in a sharp breath. "W-wait, you're not— not making any sense, what's going on...?"

"I can't—I'm not—I'm not supposed to be doing this with you..." His voice shook, but he rolled his hips against yours, and you had to let out a gasp. "I'm not, but I... God, you're just so tempting..."

"I don't... U-understa—ah, shit—!"

"Wh- What's your... call..." Jeremiah let out a shaky breath near your ear, his eyes pleading, his cock resting neatly between your folds, the heat of his touch sending your mind into overdrive. "You— Is it okay? Can I put it in? You... Y-you said..."

Oh...

You swallowed thickly, melting under the intensity in his eyes, failing to hold back a whimper at the way he was sliding against you.

"Yes," you breathed, immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I said yes... I still say yes..."

His hips stuttered at your words, and you could see him grit his teeth as he bit back a loud moan. "O- once. Just once. Once, and I'll pull out, I promise... Just once, let me be inside you..."

Despite the fact that you had already given him consent, he seemed almost as if he was reassuring himself more than you. It didn't sit right with you—something was wrong, and you knew it. Jeremiah wasn't drunk, to have been possibly saying this while not in his right mind, but, this... this was...

What was holding him back?

You, being in such a situation where you understood nothing, didn't know what to do.

Should you stop him...?

Something in your mind was screaming at you to tell him to calm down; what if he didn't truly want this?

But his cock was rubbing so nicely into your clit. You could feel the pool of arousal gather within seconds of him rutting against you, and how—how could you think?

If this were up to you, you've wanted this for so long.

And he was asking you...

He was asking you if he could finally put it inside of you...

You shuddered at the thought, your walls clenching around nothing.

Fuck.

"You can take me, 'Miah," you whispered, breath shaking. You steeled yourself to keep from bucking your hips upwards. "But you have to promise me... Promise me, promise me, that you won't end up regretting it..."

Something flashed in his eyes.

Uncertainty, perhaps—

Jeremiah let out ragged pants, but for a moment, he didn't speak.

Ah...

You moved your hand slowly, trailing his skin before resting to cup his cheek.

"...Do you truly want this, Jeremiah?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck, yes..."

"Okay. I want this, but I'm not forcing you. You have my consent, but I... I want yours."

He sighed, and leaned into your touch, something like a hopeless resignation now made clear in his eyes. He was like a deer in the headlights, almost—so embrolled in whatever internal conflict was at the forefront of his mind, that you almost pitied him. With a pout, you kissed him, slowly, softly, and he lay his forehead to meet yours.

"What if," he whispered, "there was... someone out there, who's loved you all this time?"

"...'Miah?"

"What if... What if I'm stealing you from him? What if it was never supposed to be this way? I just... I feel like... You were never supposed to be mine to hold..."

It wasn't something you could understand at a surface level. You knew that there was more to it—things he couldn't say out loud, and things he couldn't make you understand no matter how hard he tried to.

So you sighed.

"Well, 'Miah, I haven't met him, whoever he is."

"But you hav—"

"The point is that I'm here, now, with you. And, if... If, it makes you feel better, then..." You swallowed your pride, swallowed all the feelings you might have grown for him through your time together, swallowed all hope that you could ever have a normal relationship with him. "We're just... friends, right? Fooling around, like you said. Just... like we've always been doing."

Your heart buzzed, numb, almost.

The look in his eyes told you he didn't believe you; almost as if he'd known, all this time, that you've fallen in love with him, very likely just as he had with you—

But you didn't pay it any mind.

If nothing else, you didn't want to lose what you had now.

It was okay, like this.

You could live with it.

Maybe.

All things considered, your words seemed to bring him to relax just a little bit, and he nuzzled your nose, the fondness in his eyes resurfacing and drowning out any remaining traces of guilt. "Okay," he nodded, "you're right. Of course. We're just... fooling around. Friends, just... fooling around."

It was a false sense of security.

Somehow, the both of you knew it deep in your hearts that you were lying to yourselves.

But it didn't matter, right?

Not when the first push of his tip through your walls had you gasping your air, not when the feel of his length moving right into your cunt felt so perfect—so right. And along with you, Jeremiah let out quiet whimpers, sinking into you slowly, slipping in inch by inch, allowing the both of you to savor this very feeling.

"Holy shit," he cursed, breathless, gritting his teeth as he looked at you almost pleadingly—"How can you feel so good?"

By now he'd bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other, feeling the echoing of your heartbeats in sync, heavy pants filling the equally weighty silence that followed. Leaning forward slightly, he moved to rest both of your legs on his shoulders, and you couldn't help but moan at the way the slight adjustment had him shifting deeper within you.

"'M-Miah—"

"Fuck, can I... Can I move?" He placed a chaste kiss on the skin of your calf, before letting his hands fall down to your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, his eyes still searching yours almost expectantly.

"Please..."

You could have melted at the way he smiled at you.

And then Jeremiah wasted no time in pulling out, before slowly easing back in. The way your name fell from his lips in a drawn-out moan had you tingling, and you held him tight against you, eyes closing at the way he stretched you out.

He felt so... warm. So safe.

Each of his thrusts were thoughtful, intentional; slow, but long and deep.

Filling.

"S'good, Miah..." you whispered, latching your hands onto his soft curls. "You fit so well..."

"I know... haah... I can't believe we're—I think I'll ruin you for him—"

You didn't dare dwell on his words and only clenched around him at a particularly deep thrust, having the both of you moan in synchrony.

"Fuck! My lady, please— g-go easy on me...!"

"Y-you're the one w-who's so deep—ah—!"

You pulled at his hair, feeling the way the sensitive head of his cock would delightfully brush against your most delicate spot. Your eyes clouded with want, raking your nails over his scalp, shuddering at the way he would moan and moan, on and on about the pleasure of your heat.

"Mhm... so good, 'Miah, s'perfect..." You moaned in tandem with him, whispering praises, matching his thrusts with every movement of your hips. It was too much, almost, even though all he was doing was thrusting into you, doe-like, unfocused eyes transfixed upon your face.

If you weren't lying to yourself, you were inclined to think that he, too, mirrored your exact thoughts.

"Princess... Fuck, my princess..."

Ah. That nickname.

The way his cock would twitch inside you at the mere sound of this nickname from his lips had you gasping, and you wondered, truly, why it had him so worked up. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him so attached to it—but you adored it; you reveled in the way he would use it on you.

"S-say it again," you breathed, heart racing at the wet sounds of your pussy with each of his thrusts, every roll of his hips pushing him so deep inside of you, gliding against that spongy spot. You could barely hold back your moans anymore, words turning into broken, unintelligible whimpers.

"You..." Jeremiah closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and you felt lightheaded at the image of it in front of you. "Y-you... You like it? When I call you princess?"

Another whine escaped from your lips, and you continue to coax him, pleading him, praising him—anything to get him to bring you closer to your high.

And he listened.

"Fuck, princess— princess, princess, princess— my princess, my pretty, pretty princess—"

Your eyes rolled back as he picked up his pace, precise with his thrusts as the bed rocked steadily beneath you. Cries and moans spilled from your lips, your hands falling to twist into his sheets.

Perfect.

He was perfect.

You'd barely started grinding your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and then your body was tensing with pleasure

"'M-Miah!" Your fingers raked down to his back, gripping tightly when he hissed into your ear. "M'cumming, 'Miah! M'gonn— I'll—!"

He thrust hard and deep inside of your cunt, and you trembled, crying out his name, mouth falling open—

Jeremiah buried his face into your neck as he pulled out of you, spilling his load all over your chest, broken chants of your name.

"I—fuck—shit—" He whined into your skin, barely lifting himself enough to relax your positions, crawling back over to give you the sweetest of kisses.

"Jeremiah..." You stroked his cheek once more, gently, lost in the way that his eyes would look at you with so much adoration that your heart could beat right out of your chest.

"I..." he started, a pout forming at his lips. "I'm sorry, my lady..."

He didn't explain why, but he didn't need to.

You could see it in his eyes.

His eyes, his ever expressive eyes, holding so much warmth and so much love—

He loved you.

Even though you had dared to reach this illusion of mutual agreement, even if you'd promised yourselves only just a short while ago that this wouldn't happen.

That it couldn't happen.

And you closed your eyes.

"I know," you whispered.

I love you, too.

Your words would remain unsaid.

⁺₊ / an: flower language is cute and the flowers mentioned here represent things like compliments/love/growing attraction! the zinnia symbolises welcoming back a missing friend! because jeremiah would totally flirt via flowers... haha... florist, right....... did i just make myself more attached to him? 4.5k wordcount says yes!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[arcane-ish]

My worry is this, that the main difference between season 1 and season 2 is that in season 2 Arcane stopped being a tv show and its own thing and became very squarely "a League thing".

Now that isn't necessarily an all bad thing. I mean, League is popular for a reason. There are aspects of League that are fun and creative. And I could picture people who come from League being happy with all the "He said the thing" and shoutouts to all the things they care about.

But to me it feels like season 1 was approached as a way to stand on its own and sell itself on its own and be a story about the characters that you try to sell from scratch.

Whole season 2 feels like they might be cramming all the League stuff into Arcane all of a sudden. And with "League stuff" I mean structural things like:

rush characters to get them into a fighting/champion position (Mel)

rush champs to be their League selves

constantly give characters new looks because League funds itself via selling skins

remind people that there are other continents and potential future spin offs out there (Ambessa, Noxus, Black Rose)

Bring stupid void shit and larger than life threats rather than just very human can comparably low magic threats like Silco because that's how League does a lot of its storytelling

bring up that League skins often also mean parallel universes (academy Ekko)

Like I can imagine that some people are genuinely into it. And some things like new looks, skin universes and maybe even void shit and more continents is fun for people.

I just think it's a huge break from how season 1 was told. And there's still some good character writing and some good theming to tie it together a bit. So it's not like the old values are gone just because all these new values and priorities are suddenly swaming the show.

In the end I've always said that League of Legends is the most like a comic book company with the whole so many "lead" characters with their own backstories and power sets, parallel universes, shifting canons etc.

And Arcane just remind me a lot about what I hate about a lot of comic book media when they leave the whole "this is small story about a baby from space being found by a couple in Kansas, growing up with powers and trying to get the hot city chick to like him" invariably needs to get bigger and bigger threats and suddenly we are on "we now are fighting a galaxy eating cloud, now wait, we are not just fighting to preserve one universe from going kaput, now you have to save all the multiverses".

Ceterum Censeo: I hate Viktor and Jayce particularly for brining all the spacey trippy void shit to a show that previously was a lot more low magic and that had a lot more human and close to earth stakes before that.

(for what it's worth, I think the claims of Christian Linke about Arcane being only 2 seasons in his mind are believable. I full believe that the Jinx, Vi, Warwick, Silco and Cait stuff was always roughyl their plan. I just worry that either League came to them with lots of additional "omg, can you put this in too" requests or that they went overboard with the "omg, now I can put this in too because season 1 was successful" ideas)

[raccoon-coded]

Did you know there are Guardians of the Galaxy novels? Well, there are actually a few!

Here's a brief review / breakdown of the gotg books in my collection. (Not including children's books, retellings of the movies or books that aren't novels.) I love them all and would recommend any of them.

And if there are more out there, I will find them and add them to this list.

The Pirate Angel, The Talking Tree, and Captain Rabbit.

Written by Steve Behling.

A book read from teen Groot's point of view, for the most part, taking place during the flight to Nidavellir with Thor, (during Avengers Infinity War.) It focuses on the dynamic between Thor, Rocket and Groot, while Groot sneakily reads Rocket's journal. Through the journal we get to see Rocket go on missions with the original Groot, with Rhomann Dey and with the Guardians. We see him being the badass he is but also get plenty of insight into Rockets thoughts.

It also includes a short epilogue from Rocket's point of view during the battle of Wakanda.

It's fun and it's humorous with a couple of emotional beats, and an overall enjoyable read which acts as an interlude between Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame.

This one is aimed at a younger audience (teens I suspect) but I still found it enjoyable.

206 pages, although it would be less if the font wasn't so large.

Marvel Wastelanders: Star-Lord.

Written by Sarah Cawkwell and adapted from the scripted podcast by Benjamin Percy.

This one is a novelization of the audio drama 'Marvel Wastelanders', (which I recommend listening to if you haven't.) It's based on the Marvel Wastelanders comics but is an original take on the stories. Includes many comic book characters and comic references but can be read/listened to without prior knowledge of the comics.

It features an old man Star-Lord and Rocket Raccoon as they fight to save Earth from Doctor Doom's takeover. The story is told as a recount of events from a Rigellian Recorder whom they team up with along the way. Rocket and Star-Lord bicker like an old married couple and it's great. It's a good read, and has an interesting plot with a lot of fun characters. However it does have a tragic ending that the story never hid it was always leading up to. It's bittersweet. You might cry, but it's worth the tears.

The voice acting during these emotional scenes in the audio drama makes it worth listening to over reading but both options are good. Personally, I read the book first and then listened to the audio drama on Spotify. Sidenote, the characters in this are not voiced by their movie counterparts.

348 pages of the book, or 10 episodes around half an hour long each of the Star-Lord centric story of the audio drama.

Guardians of the Galaxy: No Guts, No Glory.

Written by M. K. England.

This is an official prequel to the Marvel Guardians of the Galaxy video game, (which is an incredible game that takes aspects from both the comics and movies.) Like the game, it's read from Peter Quill's perspective.

It switches between the 'present day' which is a time where the Guardians are only newly formed and struggling as a group, and 12 years before that during the Galactic War where Peter is a young ravager first meeting Nova officer Ko-Rel on Mercury as they battle a Chitauri invasion.

I really enjoyed this book. It's funny, heartwarming and action packed, and embodies the characters very well. I'd recommend it to any fans of the video game. It gives us a great preview of the relationship that Peter and Ko-Rel formed, and on the early dynamic of the Guardians.

If you haven't played the game yet, I highly recommend doing so and then going right ahead and giving this a read. Although in saying that, it'll still make sense if you read it without playing the game prior, it'll just make the experience more enjoyable if you have already played the game.

307 pages.

Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All.

Written by Corinne Duyvis.

This novel is based on the comic versions of the Guardians.

The point of view jumps around between all members of the Guardians, so you get an insight on each of them throughout the story.

In this novel the Guardians embark on a quest to save Groot by collecting all the pieces that have splintered off him and scattered around the galaxy.

Gamora has her own significant arc in this story.

Another solid Guardians tale.

383 pages.

Guardians of the Galaxy: Rocket Raccoon and Groot Steal The Galaxy.

Written by Dan Abnett.

This novel is also based off of the Guardians of the Galaxy comic versions of the characters and was actually written by comic writer Dan Abnett who has written numerous Guardians of the Galaxy comics, along with many other notable comics.

In this novel, Rocket and Groot find themselves teaming up with a Rigellian Recorder on a quest to save the Galaxy. Gamora also pops in for a bit.

The book is read from the point of view of 'Recorder-Dude' as Rocket calls him, with a few interludes read from the pov of other characters.

This book was quite enjoyable. Would read again.

359 pages.

Apologies that the last two weren't as detailed as the other reviews, it's been a while since I've read them. Will have to give them a re-read and edit.

[missmoonfrost]

Wolfstar bingo wrap-up

This summer's wolfstar bingo is over. It was my first time participating and it was so fun! Thank you @wolfstarbingo2024 !

I have learned:

- Much better English! (still not perfect, I know)

- Some new AO3 features.

- Several fantastic authors that I look forward to reading more from!

I have apparently not learned:

- Time management and planning... (no bingo this year)

Together we have created 130+ new wolfstar fanfics (how cool is that?!) I have read all of them and if you have the time you totally should, they are all worth it. If not - here are some pearls to check out:

Easier - rated E - 1,5k - angsty smut, exes - by @theresthesnitch

Sex and the art of motorcycle maintenance - rated E - 1,5k - smut with a motorcycle - by @sliebman10

Remus Lupin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Book Signing - rated M - 3k librarian Remus meets author Sirius (there is also a part two rated E) - by @severedreamerfox

It's not goodbye, it's not forever, it's just not right now - rated T - 5k - super angsty, alcoholic Sirius - by @lucigoo

Leather and cinnamon - rated E - 13k - single dad Remus meets cool bar owner Sirius - by @tracingpatternswrites

Wisdom of the Oracle - rated E - 6k - King Remus meets Oracle Sirius - by @theresthesnitch

Down Dog - rated M - 7k - Remus has a crush on his yoga teacher - by @cannesavenue

The degree of betrayal - Graphic depictions of violence - rated M - 3k - Remus is undercover in Greyback's pack while they catch Sirius - by @mundrakan

Dancing with a stranger - Graphic depictions of violence - rated M - 2k - angsty, first wisarding war - by @theresthesnitch

Not Jealous - rated E - 2k - Remus is not jealous, not at all... - by @my-castles-crumbling

of jokes and "lost" jumpers - rated E - 2k - fluffy smut - by @my-castles-crumbling

Coincidental Abscenses - not rated (but I would say T) - 1k - teenage wolfstar getting together - by @fictionalsimp09

To Moony, With Love - rated E - 18k - spy AU, when Remus gets caught by the enemy Sirius realises he might be more than a friend to him - by @sliebman10

Uncomfortably Numb - rated M - 6k - super angsty, alcoholic Remus - by breathintime

Spilling Coffee on Strangers - not rated (but I would say T) - 1,5k - coffee shop meet-cute - by @fictionalsimp09

Memories of you - Major Character Death - rated M - 7k - Sirius grieving Remus - by @brandileigh2003

"welcome home, baby (we wish your parents had told us you were coming)" - rated T - 5k - wholesome wolfstar with all their friends - by @m00neroni

Collapsing - rated M - 18k - disabled Remus, hurt/comfort - by @brandileigh2003

Sirius Black's Tiny Little Gay Awakening - rated G - fluff - by Deya

Pretty please, with sugar on top - rated E - 6k smut, age gap, degradation kink - by @youprettythings

Scratch on the moon, like a familiar smile - rated E - 6k - cowboy AU, first meet - by @cannesavenue

To have and to hold - rated G - 13k - wolfstars wedding (but the main story is jegulus!) - by @her-smile-forges-galaxies

[coffeeandbatboys]

His New Religion (Wolffe x Fem!Reader)

for my friend @alegendoftomorrow in the @cloneficgiftexchange!

A/N: So this ended up summing up a lot of what happened before, during and after Right Here Waiting and its wedding sequel, part 2, which I know Legend had read, so my brain took the idea and ran with it.

Warnings: a little bit of angst, some awkward fluffies and a badly summed up slow burn with a happy ending

Prompt(s): “But somewhere there's a light//A sign that it's alright//I find it by your side” (New Religion, The Heydaze),

“Always thought those feelings, they were stories not made for me // It's terrifying, but I'm pretty certain it's worth it” || “I didn't know you were something I could need // Until you, until you loved my everything // The good, the bad, the in between, all of me” || “But all the hell we've been through had a purpose // Together we are chaos and it's perfect” (I Didn’t Know, Sofia Carson)

Wordcount: 856

If someone had sat cadet cc-3636 down and told him that he'd be living with the love of his life one day…

…He would have broken out laughing.

And yet Wolffe, the grumpy, no-nonsense commander of the 104th, had melted like a puddle the first night he spent in your embrace.

The two of you had met during a whirlwind campaign. You had needed him to sign some forms to accept supply restocks, and he’d obliged with a grumble, voicing his negative remarks about ‘redundant protocols’.

The next meeting happened in the mess hall. You’d been covering for a friend in the food line when you caught his sharp, analyzing gaze. With a blush and a smile, you served him his rations, a begrudgingly mumbled ‘thanks’ reaching your ears.

A few weeks later and it was in the medbay. You'd dropped a box on your foot, earning yourself a broken toe, while Wolffe had garnered a blaster graze to the bicep. He was reserved as usual, but engaged in some awkward, short-lived conversation about your odd jobs in the GAR while the medics patched the two of you up.

After that, you didn't see him for a long while.

And one night you found him at the door of your quarters, pacing; deciding whether he should knock or not. That was the night he had first asked you out on date.

Shore leave dates turned into nights curled in each others’ loving embrace and soft mornings filled with nothing but bliss. Harrowing weeks apart turned into joyful reunions and a growing love between you.

And one night, all of that became your beloved Wolffe falling to a knee and asking for the honor of your hand in marriage. You'd never given a second thought about saying yes.

You vividly remember after that weekend the way he kissed you goodbye and promised to return safely.

But as fate would have it, he was taken away from you. The Empire rose out of the Republic's ashes, throwing everyone's lives into pure chaos and cutting the ties between you and your love.

You didn't see your fiancé for a year. Instead, you'd joined a network of rogue clones that led you to Rex, and had began working with them.

Then there was Teth, where you saw him again, but not as an ally. You were glad to see Wolffe, despite the reunion being marred by grief and despair. But oh, how you wanted to reach out and bring him back into your arms, even knowing he wasn't the same.

Weeks passed, and he seemed to make his decision when Rex and Echo brought him back to the new base. He danced around the subject for a while, afraid to find out what you would say. But one look into your hopeful eyes was all it took for him to break down in your arms.

The two of you wed in a simple ceremony, surrounded by his brothers, who had become just as much family to you. In that moment, the trials of the past gave way to a hopeful future, with you and Wolffe facing the challenges of a tumultuous galaxy together.

Now today, as you look out into the setting sun, you smile. Who would have thought that a love tested by loyalty, betrayal and heartache would heal in such a way?

Wolffe hums behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as a kiss is pressed behind your ear.

“If you keep staring at the sun, Mesh’la,” he remarks, squeezing you a little. “—you'll go blind.”

You laugh brightly and wiggle around to face him. He smiles and let's his lips brush across your cheeks, nose and forehead, before landing on your own in a tender kiss.

“I suppose I have something better to stare at here,” you tease. The golden hour glow highlights his best features. His hair has begun to gray at the temples, silver strands fading into his thick curls, and his cybernetic eye glitters in the sunlight. His jaw bears a little bit of stubble; a deliberate choice, you assume.

“Oh?” He asks, forehead resting gently upon yours.

“Yeah,” you answer, reaching up to caress his scar. His eyes flutter closed.

“What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours, huh?

You smile. “I was just thinking. About us.” Your head rests against his shoulder as a warm breeze dusts both of you.

He hums deeply in acknowledgment, a kiss being placed to your temple.

“Also known as: a scratch and dent clone falls in love with a smart, caring, drop dead gorgeous woman?”

You laugh lightly and shake your head. “More like, How a man and woman’s love made it through all sorts of trials.”

Wolffe’s face falls a little, but you cup his cheek to turn his gaze toward you.

“And what happened is in the past. We have all the time in the world now, yeah?”

He smiles ever so slightly and holds you close. “Yeah Mesh'la. That sounds perfect.”

And he thinks now that he’s had a taste of love, he can get used to it for the long run.

[raccoonsrummagerostrum]

Twisted Memories

Fem Yautja x Fem! Human! Ex-soldier! Reader

Word count: 928

Warnings: Brief mentions of: suicide, SA, harassment violence, and injury. Themes of PTSD. Nightmares. Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After living through hell, dropping out of service, failing to re-enter civilian life, and trenching across the galaxy, you finally get some peace of mind in your new life. 

A/N: This is probably the most specific fic I've written, and probably the most heavy, but I think it's really good!

You don't like talking about your service, you don't even like telling people that you served. Folks always tried to thank you, and tell you how brave you are. You hated it. There was nothing from your service that was worth being thanked over. You had been forced to kill and maim in the name of corporate interest. You had been harassed simply for the crime of having tits. And so many of your friends were dead, not because they were killed valiantly in the heat of battle, but because they too had been mistreated and abused by the government who they had sworn to protect.

Somehow things got even worse when you left service. The VA was absolutely now help, you had been left with chronic pain from all the shrapnel left in your body. Radio shows and news anchors kept reaching out to hear your story, only for you to tell it and be met with horrified looks and an empty promise that they would keep in touch. The worst part was having to live amongst civilians who had no idea what you went though and would likely vomit if you told them. In the end, getting off planet was the best decision you ever made.

The yautja were much more your style. Their entire civilization was focused on hunting. But not just random senseless killings like back on earth. These hunts had rules, they were fair, and it was for glory. You were treated so well by everyone too. Free, no hassle health care, mental health support, and best of all a loving wife to come home too. 

You loved telling her all about your hunts, but always refrained from telling her about your life before leaving earth. You didn’t want her to know about any of it, and for the most part she didn’t ask. But she did wonder. 

Despite how hard you tried to run from your past it always caught up to you, especially in your dreams. Vivid images of war would regularly flash across the back of your eyelids as your brain struggled to rest. What was worse is that these nightmares were always worse than your memories. They were twisted and warped by your subconscious until they became more horrific than reality could ever be. 

You once again flew out of your sleep, the tendrils of those nightmares slowly fading as your dark bedroom came into view. The soothing voice of your lover wafted into your ears as you slowly regained awareness of the world around you. Even sitting in bed she towered over you, and effortlessly pulled you into her lap and cradled you in her arms as though you were her pup. She loved you like you were her pup. Without even thinking you burrowed your face into her clavicle and sobbed.

“IT WAS SO SCARY!” You wailed. 

“I know love, It's ok, I'm here,” she soothed back. 

“I-I was jus- just tr-try-trying to pull hi-him to safety, and-and they j-just kept SHOOTING AT ME!” You completely lost control as you sobbed and cried into her. She began to rock you as she sang something that you had once heard her singing to a suckling. It was hard to tell in the dead of night how much time had passed but that didn’t matter as your sniffling slowed then stopped.  

“Please,” she spoke, honey and silk dripping from her voice “Tell me.” She didn’t even need to say what, you knew. 

You followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She fixed you both a warm drink before joining you. Almost immediately you poured it all out. Everything you had seen in combat, everything that had been done to you by your superiors, everything. Eventually you had to stop. Your breath hitched, your eyes stung, your nose ran, and the sun was starting to come up. You hadn't even gotten to the subject of the nightmare. Your lover soothed you once again, treating you very much like a sad pup. 

She curled back into bed with you in her arms. Somewhere between the heat of her body, the soft plush of the bed, and the reassuring sounds of the early morning, you were able to fall back asleep, if only for a moment. 

Over the next few days you told your wife more. Telling her how and why you left service, your life after, the many many funerals you attended. Eventually you told her about how and why you left earth, and how everything has been better since then and how you don’t think you can ever go back. She gave you a sad smile.

“My life as well has been better since you have come into it, but I am so sorry that you had to walk though that to be here.” It was at last her turn to cry. Her heart ached for what you had lived though. In that moment the only thing she wanted to do was take that pain away, to take those memories, and to take the nightmares. You both held each other, and embraced for a long moment. Once the tears from both of you began to slow, you pulled away and looked at each other. Her hair painted her face and the tears caught the sunlight to look like jewels. Your rosy cheeks bloomed, and a smile was spread across your face. You echoed back your wife's earlier sentiment.

“I'm sorry I had to go though that too. But fuck do you make it all worth it.”

[minty-drop]

• Yandere godlike celestial x reader

Both the reader and the celestial will be gender neutral to let the reader decide what they want themselves and them to be. Please do not claim Celeste as your character! They are my character oc. This is a short warm up story to get my brain ready to wright a longer story that will be posted soon!!

Summary: Celeste and y/n are enjoying a night gazing when y/n asks Celeste a question that causes them to snap.

Warning: protective behaviour, hidden obsession

The breeze was cold causing you to shiver. Your smaller body next to the godlike humanoid creature was humours compared to how much bigger they were to you.

It was beautiful out, the breeze was cool enough but not cold to nip at your skin, the temperature accompanied by the stars illuminating in the sky guided your senses to relaxing.

In times like these, you forget that you have a body, almost like your being sucked into the stars. Question in your brain come and go. But one sticks in your thoughts like glue on paper.

“My love, what is wrong? Do the stars not please you tonight? I could rearrange them if you’d like”

You heard your lover speak out there thoughts, there eyes locking with yours, those beautiful black and star dust filled eyes staring at you, as if you were a diamond in front of them.

You were a diamond to them, worth more then any star in the sky.

“No that’s alright, I think they are quite beautiful the way they are. why do you ask?”

Your perplexed face had made them chuckle, slightly grazing there hand on your back. The celestial scooted closer to you, pulling you into a side hug with there much larger hand.

“You seemed lost in thought, is something in that mortal brain of yours bothering you”

Yet again your lover asked if you were alright, there long dark blue locks flowing like they was submerged into water. You didn’t bring yourself to speak, worried that it might upset the godlike being you have come to love. You did not want to hurt there gentle soul.

“Am..am I a burden?”

They paused, eyes pitch black filled with star dust first showed confusion, morphing into a angered glare.

“Now who told you that dear..”

You didn’t want to worry them, brushing the question off to look back up at the stars.

But you’ve said to much.

Two hands snatched your body upwards, forcefully being sat down in front of the god. They were…confused, angered.

They were concealing it well

“Who told you that.”

The darker there voice got, the more you could feel the cold hand on you waist start to become warm, the temperature rising with the boiling point of there rage caged inside.

“Celeste your hurting me”

There grip tightened.

“Theres nothing to worry about my little comet, I just want to know who made my sweet one feel that they are a burden”

It started to sting, there clawed like hands digging into you waist and shoulder.

“Who ever they are, they are nothing compared to how pure as you are, do not listen to such a low life disgusting pig who doesn’t even know what there talking about”

“Celeste your scaring me”

“Because I know. I know your worth much more then anything down here and up in the farthest places of the many, MANY galaxy’s. No star can compete with you.”

“Celeste-“

“And who ever told you that. I-“

“CELESTE!”

The bruise on your waist and shoulder throbs in pain as you wiggles out of there grip for only then they had snapped out of there delusion when your presence was no longer in there reach.

Silence.

They only stared at there hands, the blackened fingers that slowly turned a light purplish the farther it went of there arm.

“I’m..truly sorry for the way I acted..do not..”

You were swiftly pulled into there embrace, there hair that was moving rapidly steadied itself with your calming presence.

“Do not feel as if you have to tell me. I did not mean to frighten you my dove.”

The comforting sensation of there hands massaging your back was soothing, the fear swelling in your being subsiding.

…

“Yours safe from everything my love”

“As long as your in my arms”

[danceswithsporks]

Awake- Part 1

Crosshair X Innkeeper!reader

** Not Canon to Season 3 **

Part 3 of the Complete Series

Story summary: Crosshair has seen both sides of the board when it comes to finding his place in a changing galaxy. Now that he knows the truth and is a free man, will he be able to adjust? Or will he need the guiding light of an innkeeper?

Authors notes: Well here we are! Part 3 of the Complete Series! Excited and nervous to get into Crosshairs story during all of this! So sorry for the long wait between Calm and Awake, but I truly hope this was worth the wait and you all enjoy the story!!

Awake, you loved being awake this early. The sun was just barely cresting above the horizon and coating the sea in a soft orange hue. The moon yos were still asleep as was the rest of the island. Your fingernails tapped against the ceramic of your mug filled with warm delicious caf as you watched fishermen leave their homes and make their way down the island to their boats. Your inn was currently empty, the Empire’s new rules and regulations making traveling more difficult for everyone. Once the sun came up you’d get a few islanders coming in for a meal but other than that it was just you in your big seven-room inn. 

One of those rooms was your private apartment, set up to have everything you’d need without having to go out into your inn. The other six rooms were basic and held the essentials. A bed, a desk and chair, a dresser and a lamp. You also had a dining room with four different tables, a common area that housed a warm fireplace, a kitchen in which you did all your group cooking, and the patio that you were currently standing on. Usually, you'd take your morning caf in your apartment but with no one around you’d decided to take the opportunity to just enjoy your inn to the fullest. 

You watched as one of the clones who’d taken up residence at the top of the island walked by you. Wrecker, that was his name. The fishermen loved having him around to help with the ships and the day's catch. Your friend, Stitches, simply loved him. Even if she wouldn’t admit it yet. Two others arrived with him, his brothers Tech and Hunter. Your other dear friend, Chai, had feelings for Tech. You envied both women, finally finding the ones that warmed their hearts. Tech had saved Chai’s life a few months prior when a tsunami had hit your island and in turn, a bond had been formed. From what she told you about the clone, he had some kind of feelings for her as well. Both of them couldn’t see it yet, but you could. As for Stitches and Wrecker, well some kind of interaction had happened between the two of them on the same night of the tsunami making the two of them develop feelings for one another. For both parties, it seemed things had only escalated since then. 

The leader of the group of clones, Hunter, nodded to you as he walked by your patio and down the path toward the docks. You didn’t know too much about him, only that he kept to himself for the most part. From what Stitches told you, he cared only for the safety of his brothers and their sister Omega.  Omega, an odd little girl with a heart of pure gold. She’d joined Stitches on one of her visits to your inn a few weeks ago. She’d been intensely interested in the ins and outs of an inn and how it all worked as well as the customers you’d had. Mainly if any bounty hunters had stayed with you. The truth was that you didn’t know if you’d had any bounty hunters as customers. You tended to avoid delving too deep into your customers' personal lives unless they became regular. Which was very far and few between. 

Stitches had mentioned to you that two other members of their group weren’t around, Crosshair and Echo. Both had left on their own and while Omega talked your ear off about Echo when she’d visited, she hadn’t mentioned Crosshair at all. You wondered what had happened there. The first foghorn of the morning rang out across the island as the first of the ships left the docks and the thoughts of the clone brothers and sister quickly left your mind. Soon your regulars from the island would be stopping in for breakfast, it was time to get to work. 

-*-

“CT- 9904 it is time to awaken.” Emerie stared into the cell of the clone who’d stunned her over a week ago. His mood had decreased exponentially after his escape attempt. No doubt a result of the neurotoxin Hemlock used. 

Crosshair reluctantly opened his eyes and stared at the bright light in his cell. “What now?”  He was tired of these constant tests. 

“Your message has been decoded. Doctor Hemlock has questions for you.” She tapped at her datapad a few times before nodding to the two guards with her. “Bring him to interrogation room eight.” 

A long sigh left Crosshair as he sat up and extended his wrists for the restraints that would be coming. “What, rooms one through seven are too busy?” 

Emerie ignored the snarky comment and turned to step out of the way of the guards. Crosshair reluctantly walked by her with his hands in front of him. The walk to the interrogation room was silent save for the sound of droids moving by them and the cries of the clones who’d lost their minds. Emerie found she held no sympathy for the clones in these cells. They were traitors to the Empire and thus would be treated as such.  If only they’d submit to the reprogramming that was offered to them, their lives would become so much easier. 

The door to the room opened with a hiss making the medical droid within turn towards them. It hovered with a tray of supplies momentarily before placing them down and moving to the side of the room. “On the table. Strap him down.” Her eyes never moved from her datapad as she spoke. 

“Do whatever you want. I have nothing to share with you.” He wouldn’t crack, he wouldn’t waiver. He’d tell them nothing even if it meant his death. Crosshair had made a lot of mistakes in the last year. Choosing not to completely rat his siblings out was not one of them. If the Empire knew even a fraction of what he knew when it came to clone force ninety-nine and how they worked then they’d have been found a lot sooner. But Crosshair was nothing if not loyal to his brothers at the end of the day. Sure. He’d hunted them down in the beginning to get the girl back but his eyes had been opened after Kamino. He only regretted that it took his mission with Mayday to fully see how worthless he was to the Empire. 

Mayday, the clone who didn’t deserve to die. Crosshair found himself thinking about him a lot these days. How he could have protected the man and saved him? How they could have survived that avalanche better and found help somewhere else. So many variables that he thought about constantly. The sound of the restraints on the table drew his attention as he was secured to the cold metal. Emerie moved next to him and stared for a moment. “What?” 

She didn’t care for this clone, he was a traitor, not her brother. A traitor. “Give us the information he requires and make this easier for yourself, CT-9904.” Make it easier on them both. “Where is the clone named Omega?” 

“I don’t know.” Hissed Crosshair while eyeing the large needle on the tray nearby. No doubt the same mixture from the last time he was here. Knowing Hemlock though, it was more potent. 

Glasses were adjusted as Emerie suppressed a sigh before continuing. “Ct-9904, you sent an encrypted message containing the phrase ‘Plan eighty-eight’. What does that mean?” 

Crosshair hissed as the needle punctured his neck and the solution was injected into him. The chemical burned in his veins. “You figure it out.” He wouldn’t give them up. No matter how much this hurts.

“How do you know how to contact them?” She tapped at her datapad and the restraints around his wrist began to hum as electricity prepared to course through them. “How do you contact the clone unit known as Clone Force ninety-nine?” 

The sting of the electricity around his wrists made Crosshair tense. He could survive this. This was nothing compared to the sting of betrayal if he gave up his brothers. “I. Don’t. Know.”  

This would be a long interrogation at this rate. Emerie sighed. “Think for yourself, CT-9904. You can stop all of this right now if you give me the information I want. To show she was serious, she reached to the table and held up a small vial. “I have the antidote to the neurotoxin racing through your veins.” She tapped her datapad and lowered the electricity power. “Take a moment to think, Crosshair.” 

His eyes shifted to stare at her as she used his name. It was the first time he’d heard it in months aside from hearing himself say it or in his dreams. It had to be a trick. What was her angle? She moved the vial of antidote side to side for him to see, the liquid within moving in unison and drawing him in. Relief was right there, all he had to do was answer a question.

-*-

“Crosshair, please.” Gentle hands cupped his face as pure eyes stared into his. “Open up to me? Let me know the real you.”

“You couldn’t begin to understand what I’ve been through.” Crosshair tried to pull away from the hands but found himself stopped.

“ Let me try, sniper. Let me be the one to listen to you and know you. Let me love you.” She cooed sweetly to him while stepping forward and pressing her body against his. “Let me be yours, Cross.”

“Cross. CROSSHAIR” 

Crosshair groggily opened his eyes and looked towards the sound of someone saying his name. His name? Looking at the door to his cell, he saw blonde locs and young brown eyes staring at him. No. Why was she here? “Kid?” He sat up quickly and moved to the door. 

“Crosshair. You’re ok!” She looked over her shoulder quickly before looking back to the clone. “I don’t have a lot of time. I’m just glad to see you’re ok.” 

“What are you doing here?” Were they here to rescue him? 

“Hemlock found us and threatened the others. I gave myself up to protect them.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, instead opting to stare at her feet.

Now that she mentioned it, he could see the prisoner's uniform on her. “What!” He hissed loudly. Hemlock had found them? Had threatened Tech, Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo? A fury burned inside the sniper at her words. He’d strangle Hemlock the moment he could. But wait. “How are you here?” 

“Hemlock is letting Nala Se use me as an assistant like before.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ration bar. Carefully she slid it through the slot designed for food on the door to the clone. “I heard they don’t feed you guys enough. Take mine.” She didn’t like the taste of rations anyway.

Crosshair carefully took the ration stick and placed it on the floor next to him. “You can’t come back here Omega. Ya need to think about yourself.” If they found her here talking to him. 

“Omega.” A familiar voice cut through the space. “You should not be down here.” 

Crosshair glared at Emerie as she walked down the hall to them both. “Leave her alone. She was just leaving.” 

“It is not wise for you to be down here. We must go before you are discovered.” Emerie placed her hand on the shoulder of Omega. She ignored Crosshair. 

“Wait. I need to tell him something.” Omega felt herself turned away from Crosshair and prepared to walk. She needed him to hear this from her and not someone else. 

Emerie looked down the hall for any sign of guards or Hemlock. “I will relay the message to you later. We must go.” 

“Go, Kid.” Why was Emerie being so protective over her? He thought back to the interrogation room two weeks prior. She was kind to him then as well. What was going on? 

Omega looked over her shoulder towards Crosshair and nodded. She trusted Emerie to tell Crosshair about Tech. Maybe she’d get lucky and run into him in the clinic and she could tell him then. It just needed to be her. She wiggled out of Emerie’s touch and ran to the cell door, her fingers gripping the metal. “I’ll be back.” 

Crosshair shook his head while Emerie watched them. He didn’t trust her. “Don’t come back.” He didn’t intend for the words to be so harsh but she needed to not come back here. She needed to focus on herself. Pulling his hands away from the door, he stood and walked to the bed. 

“Come, Omega. We must be going.” Emerie gestured for Omega to start walking and the girl finally obliged. She wondered what was so important for the child to tell CT-9904. Whatever it was she’d pass the information along. If only to help the girl trust her more. Out of all the people who deserved to be here, the child was not one of them. 

Nodding solemnly, Omega pulled away from the door and walked away from Crosshair. She wouldn’t listen to him, she’d come back and see him as often as she could. 

-*-

It would be nearly two weeks before Crosshair saw Omega again. Two long weeks of uncertainty and upset. It hadn’t been Emerie who’d told him about Tech. He hadn’t seen the woman in days. No, it had been Hemlock. The asshole had told him while getting ready to torture him again.

“I’ve heard your sister has been to see you. A good reunion?” Hemlock stepped around the table that Crosshair was strapped to. The doctor had taken a liking to testing his latest creations on the clone in hopes of breaking him finally.

Crosshair twitched on the table but continued his refusal to answer. “Where. Is. Omega?” He hadn’t seen her in four days since she’d first come to see him. In all honesty, he’d expected she wouldn’t have given up so easily when it came to seeing him. The fact it had been so long had surprised him.

”Omega is on restricted privileges right now. Far too many attempts to visit you and other clones.” Sighing, he walked around the table while tapping his fingers on the metal. “Nonetheless, she will acclimate to our ways here and be given back her privileges in time. That the ways of the Empire are here to help you. Not restrict you.” He stopped next to Crosshair's head and leaned down. “While there’s still hope for CT-9901 and CT-9903 to understand this I’m afraid CT-9902 will not be able to.” Crosshair's eyes shifted to him, catching the man’s attention. “Ah, you didn’t know? Omega failed to tell you?” Hemlock pulled away from Crosshair while clicking his tongue against his teeth a few times. “Tsk tsk tsk. She should have told her brother that his twin was dead.”

No. Tech couldn’t be dead. The batch was indestructible. They’d survived Kamino being destroyed with them inside of it. Surely Tech could have survived whatever Hemlock had done. His eyes stared daggers into Hemlock's skin. He didn’t believe him.

Hemlock chuckled deeply as he stepped over to the syringe waiting on the medical tray. “You don’t believe me? A shame. I have no reason to lie to you.” Holding the needle up, he tapped it a few times to remove the air bubbles before returning to Crosshair. “Help me find clone force ninety-nine and I’ll allow you to see Omega.”  He watched as Crosshair turned his head away from him and stared at the ceiling. “All I am trying to do is show them the benefits of working for the Empire rather than against it. With your help, you, your brothers, and your sister could earn the life you want. Instead of them being on the run.” The syringe was held up for the restricted clone to see. “So I’ll ask again, CT-9904. Where is Clone Force ninety-nine currently hiding?”

Letting them go so easily after taking Omega had been a mistake. He needed them and their desirable mutations when it came to his dark trooper program. But he was desperate for the young clone to be returned to get Nala Se to work. The Kaminoan had refused to do any work until the girl had been retrieved thus putting them behind schedule to an almost concerning point. It wasn’t until he returned and looked at the latest numbers in the program did he realize the abilities of Clone Force Ninety-Nine would be useful to him. He had CT-9904 and though he hadn’t turned yet, he would at some point. They all cracked eventually. When he did then Hemlock would be able to use his superior sniper skills to train his dark troopers. “Help me to help you.”

Crosshair could still remember the pain from that night. Hemlock's concoctions were becoming more potent. He shifted in his bed while wincing at the pain in his arm. The day prior another clone had tried to free the others and pull off a prison break. Crosshair had been foolish enough to try and join in an attempt to find Omega. The clone who’d led the prison break had been killed on sight and the rest of them punished. His punishment? His dominant arm was broken. 

The guard who’d broken his arm had spoken to him briefly while returning him to his cell. “Even if you did escape you’d be useless as a sniper now. Is there a reason for you to escape?” Those words had cut deep for the sniper.

His arm had been placed in a sling to slowly heal as opposed to him being placed in a bacta chamber. A feeling that Crosshair found painfully uncomfortable, a constant reminder of what happened when you tried to flee the mountain. No one left Tantis. Not alive at least. 

“Crosshair!”

Omega’s voice surprised Crosshair and he visibly jumped. “Omega. What are you doing here?”  How did she get out of her cell?

“Nala Se let me out. Something is about to happen, I don’t have much time but be prepared.” Omega looked over her shoulder before looking back to Crosshair. Her eyes caught sight of the sling and she frowned. So he had been punished during the last prison break as well. 

“What are you talking about? No one would be foolish enough to try and break out after the last attempt.” It had just happened, no one would be dumb enough to try again. He didn’t bother moving from the bed this time, instead opting to lie down and simply listen to the girl. 

“Nala Se got a message out. Plan thirty-seven.” A noise behind her drew her attention for a moment. It wouldn’t be Emerie this time. Not after the clone had raised concerns about the amount of testing going on with Omega. Nor after Emerie tried to help Omega escape a week ago. Omega hadn’t seen Emerie since then and Hemlock told her she wouldn’t. Hemlock had Emerie disposed of after it was clear the woman was no longer under his control. It seemed he wouldn’t keep anything from the girl. “I can’t stay long.”

Plan thirty-seven. Coordinated attacks from both inside and outside with trust in the information. The only problem was that they didn’t know when it would happen. “This place is nearly impenetrable. Don’t be a fool and believe they’re coming, Omega.” 

She looked back at the defeated clone and shook her head quickly. “They’re coming. We just need to be ready.” The noise echoed through the halls once more and she moved away from the door. “I need to go. Be. Ready.” 

Before Crosshair could say anything back, she was gone. Crosshair let out a long sigh as he closed his eyes. The poor girl was about to have her heart broken. There was no way that the batch would be able to survive an assault on Tantis.

 It would be foolish to dream as such. 

Taglist:

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[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

I love how stanikins bend over backwards to attempt to make Obi-Wan and the Jedi look callous and uncaring when all evidence points otherwise.

Obi-Wan is too harsh on him after he endangers his men and Ashoka to save a droid with confidential information on it which he didn’t wipe purposefully, oh no!!! He’s abusive!!!

Obi-Wan putting the good of the Galaxy above the ones he love because it’s his duty and philosophy to put the good of the collective above the good of the few he loves. Oh no!!!! He’s heartless!!! He should’ve let Anakin jump off the moving vehicle to save padme because muh love story!!!! He should’ve known that Anakin’s dreams about his mother dying was a vision and not a dream!!! Definitely not like Anakin told him it was a vision, “just a dream” verbatim from Anakin himself!!! Like if we take legends into consideration then Obi-Wan, someone who is strong in the Unifying force, would definitely have done shit if Anakin told him outright it was a vision but how was he supposed to know when Anakin himself 1) never had a vision before this and 2) never told his master what occurred in said vision?

Obi-Wan would’ve made Anakin fess up to the Tusken massacre if Anakin told him!!! He should’ve been a safe space for Anakin and been accepting like Padme and covered this horrendous miscarriage of justice out of love!!! He didn’t provide a safe space for a mass murderer therefore he deserves blame for it!!!!

The council didn’t want to admit a very clearly traumatized slave child who’s recently been freed because he would not be able to fully commit to their philosophy of non-attachment due to his experience and asking him to change how he viewed the world so shortly after being separated from his one support in life would be cruel so they denied him, therefore he was right to hate them!!! Especially Mace Windu because, checks notes, he was mean (???) to him (???) in the first act of the phantom menace???? Like have y’all not watched TCW and how Mace interacted with him????

Stanikins literally have every excuse under the sun to justify his every atrocity without giving him any agency in his own choice. His story is a tragedy!!! Let it be a tragedy!!! He was a slave boy with godly powers and traumatized beyond imagination! He could’ve been great if the circumstances were different, if one thing changed he would’ve been the greatest Jedi there were, but because he is literally doomed by the narrative, we cannot see him be the person he could be. He has great capacity for kindness of selflessness but because of his experience fear wins out and he desperately holds onto all the affection and love he could because his time as a slave taught him to do so. It’s a disservice to take away his agency, to make all his bad and disastrous decisions the fault of someone else, is to make him one dimensional. Let him be the villain he is and mourn the child he was and the person he could’ve been if he wasn’t doomed by the narrative before the prequels even came out. Let him be tragic. Let his decisions be tragic and doomed and unavoidable. Let him be sucked into villainy the moment he decided that his revenge is worth more than the lives of those that did not participate in the murder and torture of his mother. Let him be utterly unredeemable because of his actions. Let him doomed by his own actions as well as the narrative. Let him be himself instead of woobifying him into a victim of everyone else’s actions but his own.

He choose to massacre the Tuskens. He choose to massacre the Jedi. He choose to hunt any remaining Jedi left in the Galaxy for 20 years. He choose to put the life of his wife above the people who raised him and took him into their culture. He choose to do that himself. And it is tragic. It is sad. But it is no one’s fault but his own. His formative years shaped him into one who jealously hordes all forms of affection form those he loved most as a trauma response. He understands Jedi teachings (literally a whole arc in TCW where he teaches Ashoka what it means to be a Padawan and Jedi) he just doesn’t internalize it because of his trauma. He takes no one’s council but his own (showcased when he went to Yoda to ask for a method of cheating death and Yoda’s advice was sound if he were talking to any other Jedi other than Anakin).

Star Wars may be a a story of hope but it is also a tragedy. It’s about a boy how could’ve been great, it’s about a boy who was so full of hope and dooming himself because he’s too afraid and refuses to let the fear go so it turns into anger and hate. Taking away Anakins agency and blaming his actions on other people takes away the tragedy that is having someone great fall. A boy who was bad cannot fall and be doomed. It’s only those that have the potential to be great that falls the hardest and by taking away his own culpability in bringing in a genocidal empire (one he wished to rule no less) takes away the inherent tragedy of seeing someone so bright fall so low.

[kenobers]

Gangs of Coruscant | mobster!Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

Chapter One: Dire Straits

but first free palestine !! The 23-year-old reader gets a fresh start in Coruscant after landing a sign language interpreter gig at one of the biggest hospitals in the galaxy. However, that plan flatlines after reader's attempts to be punctual land her somewhere she really really shouldn't be, where she sees something she really really shouldn't see. As luck would have it, that something just so happens to be the business of the most terrifying (and strikingly handsome) man in the city. tw: Mafia!AU, mentions of guns, drugs & violence, being held against one's will & non-sexual coercion (but not maliciously?), older manDisclaimer: Yes, this is a romanization of the concept of the mafia, but it is also a fictionalization based on the structure of the Jedi Order. No character in this story is based on any real life mobster and no plot point is based on an actual organized crime story. I am aware that most crime lords do not look like Obi-Wan Kenobi nor am I encouraging anyone to actually try and get with a made man (or woman). Please direct all complaints to Marty Scorsese. God Bless.

There was no way you were keeping this job.

You showed up late to orientation, much to the disapproval of the hospital director. Now you had completely missed your first official day. It wasn’t for lack of trying, honestly. The bus had arrived late on orientation day. When a kind older gentleman told you this was a common occurrence, you decided you could carve out extra time for the twenty-five minute walk. 

Then you missed a turn. Then another. Then you’d discovered you left your wallet at home and that your phone had, in fact, not charged overnight. Then you took a chance on a bus. Then ended up on an entirely different side of Coruscant. 

That had all been seven hours ago, when the sun was still up. The infamous neon lights of the central city were now a distant glow, taunting you from miles away. So much for being a sign language interpreter, you thought bitterly, so much for a brand new life in Coruscant. Not only were you going to lose the job you moved to this enormous city for, you might just lose your life. Oh, well. At least that was the worst that could happen. 

This side of the city was…there was no other word for it, shady. It was made up of graying warehouses and shipyards, abandoned by workers who had long since headed home. The few people you came across didn’t give the impression they wanted to be bothered. Not that your anxiety would’ve allowed you to try. Or at least it wouldn’t have an hour ago, before the hunger headache set in. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been cutting through the damn labyrinth of empty warehouses when you finally came across one with the lights on. The grimy windows dulled the sickly yellow shine, but it seemed like the most cliche sign from God.

You stopped before the aging building, weighing the thought of going in. A man’s laugh sounded from inside, making you jump. The news headline, “CORUSCANT’S MAFIA FAMILIES SPREAD THEIR POWER THROUGHOUT THE CITY” flashed in your mind. The words ‘brutal’, ‘ruthless’ and ‘violent’ had made appearances in the first paragraph. There had been a picture attached; a blurry image of two or three men slipping out of the senate building, a winged insignia sewn onto a leather jacket, a different flash of red against white fabric. 

To be fair, you hadn’t seen the symbol anywhere. You’d even read that the extent of the mob was overplayed by conspiracy theorists, driven by the myth of a couple of notorious figures. What was the chance you would actually come across someone ‘brutal’ and ‘ruthless’. The place looked like a shot out of GoodFellas, but a bus had brought you here. It looked like it was a busy area in the morning. It was too obvious. And more than anything, you were desperate now. It at least had to be worth poking your head in. 

Cautiously you approached the open door, took a breath and peered in. A shaggy haired young man leaned against a pillar, still laughing. 

“It’s not even that funny!” a young female voice shouted, although you could tell she was restraining her own giggles. Your eyes strained to see where the sound was coming from. Probably late night dock workers, you figured with relief.

‘Hello’ died on your lips and resurrected as a gasp when you laid your eyes on the large pile of spice and blasters in the middle of the floor. The man snapped his head towards you. You caught a glimpse of a nasty scar adorning his right eye and a set of white wings on the shoulder of his black jacket.

Terrified, you stumbled back into the shadows before he could get a good look at you. You backed away blindly, willing your fight or flight to take the wheel. 

Just as you were about to turn around, the rich scent of amber and vanilla filled the air and an unseen arm wrapped itself around your chest from behind. A large hand covered your mouth as you screamed, leaving the taste of a leather glove on your lips. Your back was pulled flush against a broad chest, the butt of a blaster prodding the small of your back.

Your fight or flight officially turned to lead as the weight of impending doom crushed your reflexes. 

“You’ve been lurking around here all night,” a smooth, accented voice murmured in your ear. The warm breath on your neck made you shiver. In any other situation, it might’ve excited you. “Who sent you, young

one?”

You tried to shake your head, but the hand covering your mouth had moved to grasp your chin. 

“I-I’m lost,” you stuttered. “I-I didn’t mean t-to-to see anything, I-I’m just lost.” 

“Lost?” your captor mused. 

Tears pricked your eyes. He didn’t sound like he believed you. “I don’t-I don’t even know where I am.” 

He tilted your chin up, craning your neck to meet a piercing pair of blue eyes that light up in the darkness. The face above you couldn’t be more than 35-years-old. Despite the lack of lighting, you could make out well kept fair hair, complimented by a matching beard. He was handsome, strikingly so. Your brain went blank for a moment. 

“Obi-Wan, who is that?” a male voice called from the door of the warehouse. Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to his companion but yours stayed trained on him. 

“Someone saw something she shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan responded, looking back at you thoughtfully. He tapped your jaw and hummed, sending a vibration through you. Then he released your chin, only to tighten his grip on your shoulders. “Come with me.” 

You made no attempt to disobey as he led you into the warehouse. The scarred man waited by the doorway, his split eyebrow raised, evidently sharing in your confusion. You cringed under the intensity of his watch. His stance was relaxed, his arms were crossed, but he looked at you like he might lunge at any given moment. 

“This is what the alarm picked up?”

You winced as he gestured to you. He rolled his eyes and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.  

“Now Anakin, be nice to our guest.” 

He gave you a sarcastic, tightlipped smile before shoving his hand back in his pocket. 

You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you weren’t about to be tortured to death. Although you weren’t holding out hope; you’d been praying all day. 

Obi-Wan sat you in a folding chair, the cold metal burning through the thin fabric of your button-up. 

A young woman around your age with fiery red hair and two blue and white braids appeared from behind the pile of spice. You gathered that’s who you heard earlier. She watched you with wide interested eyes as she handed Obi-Wan another chair. 

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” he nodded. You sent her a pleading look, but she merely gave you a friendly smile before retreating to the other man. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and you snapped your attention back to him. He was even more handsome in good lighting. He looked…almost kind, even as he studied you with a straight face. His hair was auburn and each stand looked as though it had been meticulously placed. The creased lines peaking around his mustache told you he smiled a lot. His warm complexion didn’t give you the sense it was from sadism. His nose and cheekbones were as sharp as his crystal eyes, but his expression was soft, curious and understanding. The most unnerving aspect of his appearance was his white suit jacket, decorated with a red winged insignia on the shoulder. 

“Your symbol…” you muttered. A blurry photo of the crest on white fabric and black leather…next to the words, ‘brutal’, ‘ruthless’ and ‘violent’. You glanced over at Anakin, who had finally fished a cigarette from the pocket of his black leather jacket. Ahsoka, who was paying your situation no mind, typed away on her phone, the case decorated with the same emblem in sticker form. “There was a photo of you,” you breathed. The full realization of what exactly you’d waltzed into struck you upside the head. You reeled back frantically in your seat, “I-I read about you, I t-think. You’re, you’re-”

“Not going to hurt you,” he assured, sticking out his hand as if to pat you. You made a skeptical face. He looked amused at your apprehension. “What’s your name, darling?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Out of fear, of course. 

“(yn),” you whispered. 

“(yn),” he repeated like it was poetry. “And you’re lost. You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious,” you asked shyly, embarrassed. 

He cocked his head and shrugged. “No one dressed like you ends up this far past the Urscu district unless they’ve yet to get the hang of the buses, or they’re wearing this,” he pointed to the mafia crest on his jacket, “and considering your attire, I’m assuming it’s the former.” 

You couldn’t help it, you burst into tears. This man was toying with you. He was luring you into a false sense of security and forcing you to admit your own stupidity before he did away with you. He wasn't studying you, he was preying on you.

“I do-don’t know what happened, I-I just- are you fucking with me?”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, furrowing his eyebrows and blinking slowly. “Fucking with you?”

You tensed up again as you realized you might've just offended him. If you were taking a tone with a mob boss after all of day's events, then your poor excuse for survival skills belonged in some sort of lackluster hall of fame.  

“I-I’m sorry, I just meant, like-like-like, please, I-I just want to go home,” you begged, your breath stuttering. He sighed and stood, towering over you. 

“And you will,” the crime lord promised with a surprisingly gentle sincerity. He tilted your chin up, his thumb catching a stray tear. “But you’ve seen too much. I can’t just let you walk away.” 

Nausea twisted in your stomach. A million scenarios of what he could do to you, of what he could make you do, raced through your aching head. This man was sick. Talking to you like you were a lost child and not a potential snitch was just a means coax you into being compliant with whatever he had in mind.

The sensation of his glove against your skin was suddenly overwhelming your sense and you swore you could smell blood beneath the leather. The groves in the material began to spiderweb all over your face, the seam coming undone to close your mouth. No one was around, no one would hear you scream. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you pleaded with a sob, “Please, I promise I w-won’t say a thing, I’ll f-forget it.” 

“Take a breath,” he ordered, his tone briefly switching to that of a general. You obeyed, squeezing your eyes shut as he caressed your cheek again. 

He knelt beside you, softening his voice again. “You’ve given us no reason to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean we can trust you.” 

You nodded as if you understood. He continued. 

“Where do you live, darling?”

You sucked in another breath, “The Senate district, in the Millenium on Droid Street.” 

“Perfect,” he said. “We own a restaurant just around the block. We’re in need of a waitress.” 

You cracked your eyes open, suspicious. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We need to keep an eye on you,” he explained, standing up again. The way he looked down at you told you he’d be watching you one way or another. Given that you just lost your other job, you weren’t sure you had much of a choice. However, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the last waitress. “Unless you’d rather run drugs,” he added, pulling you out of your thoughts. You shook your head profusely. The blood started to smell like vanilla again.

“I think I can handle waitressing,” you accepted. Obi-Wan nodded, pulling you to your feet. He stuck out his hand. You hesitated for a moment, then your sweaty skin felt the lines of his leather gloves just once more for the rest of the night.

A rush of cold ran through you, flooding you with the feeling you’d just sealed your fate.

“Welcome to the family, (yn),” Obi-Wan smiled, patting you on the shoulder. “Now, let me take you home.” 

[andromeda3116]

okay but some of the ideas in jupiter ascending are literally so galaxy-brained? like, the concept that capitalism taken to its utmost extreme would result in a "superior" (read: ultra-wealthy) class exploiting whole planets of people for their own gain? the way that the three siblings play off each other, when you're ultimately left like "shit man at least balem fucking told her he wanted her dead even though he had some seriously fucked-up emotions regarding his dead mother like holy shit can you say oedipus complex my god". but the sister is like, "the ultimate resource, the only one that matters, is more time" and that's a profound concept and also again so horrifically accurate and dystopian because she's literally stealing time from not just people but whole planets' worth of people, and has been for thousands of years, they've grown them for this purpose and of course that would be elon musk's fucking wet dream, to be able to buy himself more time, and while i don't think he or anyone else would just like. immediately jump to "kill whole planets for it" i also think that if he felt like that was the only way, he would be like "it's the Greater Good. i have Unlocked Immortality For The Human Race" and be totally blind to the fact that it was only for the rich ones, on the backs of everyone else. and yet she's still nice? just because you're a genocidal self-serving ultra-capitalist immortal monster doesn't mean you have to be a jerk about it. which is so. how the human condition works?

and yet this movie also has "bees can sense royalty" and whatever the fuck was going on with channing tatum's character and a wooden (yet somehow refreshingly horny*) love story and an exhaustingly-long chase scene that could have been thirty seconds and the Great Disappearing Sean Bean Daughter and

like it's somehow simultaneously "terrible idea, flawless execution" and "flawless idea, terrible execution"

(*in contrast to the "everyone is beautiful, no one is horny" trope, channing tatum looks like a snack and by god is mila kunis ready to eat him)

[deathbxnny]

Hello!! I'm the one who requested the older brother of the traveler and my scenario is how the male reader and the hsr character meet

The male reader is traveling world to world to find their siblings then they go to there world and they meet there the reader stay there for months then his about to leave but the hsr character stop them and the hsr character confess there felling and the reader accept the confession but they got a long distance relationships and the reader only go back to hsr character when something happens or special events happened and they kinda have an on and off relationship and that's all

-----♡

A/N: Hello, thank you for giving me a more specific scenario, it was very helpful! I hope you'll like this!<33

Featured characters: Jing Yuan, Blade, Luocha, Gepard

Content: Some angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort, long distance, sfw

Reader is asked to be male, but pronouns aren't really mentioned!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Luocha

You and Luocha came to an agreement, when you first met eachother. You'd both travel to the Luofu together and have eachothers back, before finishing your jobs and parting ways. It was simple and safe, a good way to keep companionship during your respective assignments. He had to deliver a coffin and you were tracing a lead to find your lost siblings.

But that strictly professional agreement started unravelling, the more time you spent with eachother. You had things in common, your conversations were deep and comforting. You seemed to understand eachother in many different ways and were practically inseparable by the time you arrived at your final destination. You didn't think that the goodbye would be this hard and neither did Luocha, who had bluntly told you about his feelings.

A relationship would be hard and practically impossible, with how many world you had to go through. You didn't want to give up your siblings for anything in the world. Not even for the man you've grown to love. And Luocha understood this, accepting any relationship you wanted, as long as he could have a part of you just for him. He didn't care if you were with him or galaxies away, knowing that your heart belonged to him, was more than enough.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan was the one to allow you to stay, when you first arrived on the Luofu and asked to look around for your siblings. He was intrigued by your story and sympathised with it, as he tried helping you out with the resources he had. You spent alot of time together during those months of searching, until eventually, you were ready to move onto another world.

Jing Yuan didn't realise how hard this would hit him. It shook him to the core, when you first announced it to him and made him realise the feelings he had grown for you. He was however strategic and methodical even in his confession for you. It made you hesitate for even a moment and that made it worth it in Jing Yuan's glinting eyes. You still left, but as his dear lover. He had all the time in the world to wait for your return anyways.

He always made a huge celebration for you, whenever you came back to him after many months away. He'd hold you close, not once letting you go, until you had to leave again. He was patient, confident that one day you'd return to stay permanently, with your siblings in tow.

-----♡

》Blade

You had agreed to stay with the Stellaron Hunters for a while, so that you could get more information on your siblings faster. You and Blade respected eachother for your strength on the battlefield and were often assigned on missions together. It forced you to spend time with eachother and eventually made you develop a deep trust, that you both quietly accepted. He had your back and you had his.

He knew that you'd have to leave eventually. It was a part of your contract after all and a given, considering your goals. And he wasn't used to the warm feelings in his heart. He wasn't used to love or affection. But he had become so used to you, that he'd be damned if you left him. His confession was silent, a single grab at your wrist before you turned away. You looked back at him, understanding him instantly.

Your relationship was undefined and made no sense to anyone, except to you two. You returned to him every now and then, always relishing in eachothers company, before you had to leave him again.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

Gepard saw it as his duty to help you find your siblings. He showed you around, asked the supreme guardian for help and even took it upon himself to look out for them during his shift. It was a way to also return the favour, after you saved him from an ambush. You spent everyday together, when you eventually started joining him on his shifts. Gepard felt like he could be open and honest with you, something he appreciated greatly. So much so, that it was easy for him to fall for you.

He tried to ignore how much it did rip his heart out, once you decided that it was time to go at first. He didn't think it was right for him to confess, especially when you had such important goals in mind. He'd be perfectly fine with being just a friend and waiting for your return every day for an eternity. Though he had to do no such things, as he accidentally blurted out his emotions anyways. And you thankfully accepted them.

He fully supported your endeavours and your quest to finding your siblings. He'd do the same for his after all. He'd patiently wait for your return, eager to meet your family one day. Then, you could maybe finally be together permanently, something he very much looked forward to.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, here it is! Thank you again for the request!<33

[illfoandillfie]

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Pairing: Rich Fuckboy!Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Summery:  An unexpected call from Ben results in an unexpected evening.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Rich kid dickishness, dom/sub dynamics, mostly dom ben and sub reader, but also a little round the other way, a fair bit of derogatory/degrading language (esp whore), edging, cockwarming, a little spanking, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, piv sex, begging, bondage, forced orgasm. I think thats all.

Words: 12,890

A/N: Wasn't necessarily planning to write more of rich bitch Benny but then I saw some promo pics for his movie Love At First Sight and something in my brain booted up. This was written over a stupidly long time, literally months, so hopefully its okay lmao. Also please excuse any weird formatting. The way tumblr works, paragraphs can't be more than 4096 characters so some of the dialogue had to be broken up to make it postable.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

“You get two questions.”  “Five,” Bianca countered.  “Two. I want to have a shower.”  “Fine.” She agreed, disgruntled. Bianca had ambushed you the second you got home, having stayed up waiting on the couch to hear all about your date with Ben. She’d listened patiently, laughing or nodding and squealing a little, as you told her about the restaurant he’d chosen and the club and ending up on the yacht. But when you’d admitted you had slept with him, she got so excited you were a little worried she’d forget to breathe. Bianca thought for a moment, choosing which of her questions were most worth asking, “Okay, one, was he good? Like did you get off?”  “Yeah, he was very good,” you smiled to yourself thinking about just how good he’d been, following all your orders.  Bianca seemed a little relieved that the exceptional lover she’d fantasised about so many times could live up to the image. “Was he into any weird kinks?”  You thought for a moment, contemplating how little you could get away with saying, “Nothing super unusual. But y’know that’s stuff you don’t necessarily bring out the first time.”  “Nothing kinky? Not even like some bondage or spitting or anything?”  “You asked me about weird! Yeah there was a little bondage. Spanking too.” 

"I knew it!” she said before the loudest squeal yet and you hurried to shush her before a neighbour complained.  “He was hung right? Please god tell me he was hung.”  “Thats more than two questions.”  “Fuck, c’mon Y/N. Just describe his dick for me. I've been trying to picture it for years, it’d be mean of you not to tell me.”  You laughed, enjoying teasing her but you felt a little bad for sleeping with her celebrity crush so held up your hands to demonstrate an approximate length, “Comparisons could be drawn to horses.”  Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas, “I knew it.”  “He wasn’t super thick but he was decently long. Nothing crazy but more than enough. Very slight curve.”  She’d closed her eyes and hummed as you described him, “It’s beautiful,” she said dreamily.  Laughing, you bid her goodnight, looking forward to showering and then heading to bed, but once more she stopped you.   “Wait, are you going to sell the story?”  “Oh, I can’t. He made me sign an NDA. I’ve probably said too much already so don’t go repeating it okay.”  “So that’s why no one ever spills too many details.”  “Yeah, must be.” You felt a little bad for lying but you really wanted to shower, and you knew she’d ask more questions if you admitted you didn’t want to tell anyone now. If the night had gone more to Ben’s plan, if you’d let him be in control, you wouldn’t have had any qualms about writing to a magazine with the big scoop. But he’d obviously cultivated a particular image in the public conscious, one that didn’t necessarily align with ideas of him as a willing, even eager, submissive. The thought of selling that story made you feel dirty in a way the other versions just wouldn’t. So, at the end of the night you’d promised to keep it a secret, even if that meant remaining poor. You’d gotten to domme The Benjamin Hardy after all, what more did you need.

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

By the time Ben pulled up you were waiting out on the street. You’d decided it was best to get out without Bianca finding out who you were going out with, just to minimize the questions and potential jealousy or excitement. You weren’t sure which direction her emotions would go in. So you’d twisted the truth a little to make it sound like Ben was a random guy you’d matched with on tinder. Bianca had been interested but not as overbearing as she might have been had she known, her questions more general ones about where you were going and how long you’d been messaging the guy. Ben seemed a little surprised when he saw you waitingbut got out and held the limo door open for you.   “Worried if I came up you’d forget yourself and just have to get my cock out?”  You snorted, “No, I just don’t want Bianca to know I’m going out with you again.”  “Bianca....why does that name sound familiar?”  “She’s my roommate. I mentioned her last time. She was with me when we met and you first asked me out.”  “Oh, right, the chick who puked.” Ben laughed, “You worried she’d be jealous? Should have invited her, she sounds easy and you know that’s my type.”  “Ben,” you said firmly, beginning to regret not just hanging up on him, “you know that sort of comment isn’t going to work on me, especially since you’re talking about my friend. Now either stop acting like such a prick, or I will go back upstairs and block your number. There is no one here who is going to be impressed by your bullshit.  “Sorry.” He said softly and surprisingly sincerely, “You look nice, by the way.”  “Sure you don’t want to tell me I should have dressed sluttier?” You waved a hand in front of yourself, indicating the dress you’d chosen. It was neither as short, nor as tight, as the dress you’d worn last time, falling to your knees, not clinging to your skin. The only vaguely revealing part of the dress was a little bit of cleavage on display and even that wasn’t much.   “No, it suits you. And you look lovely in it.”   You were a little suspicious but chose to accept the complement, thanking Ben before saying, “I did do as you asked though. No underwear.”  He tried not to look too pleased, “Can I see?”  “Not yet.”  “What if I promise to go down on you until we get to wherever you’re taking me – which is where by the way?”  You gave him the address and he passed it on to the driver.  “So?” he asked as the car began to move, “You know I know how to eat pussy.”  You rolled your eyes, though you felt that at least his tact included offering to pleasure you rather than just himself, “No. Not yet.”  “I thought you promised to be my whore,” he pouted. Ben still wasn’t used to not getting his way immediately, “My whores do what I say when I say it.”  “Well we both know that doesn’t work with me, does it baby,” you weren’t sure how far Ben would let you push him, but it was fun to test the waters. He made a low rumbly sound, almost a growl, and for a moment you wondered if he’d put his hand on your throat like last time, attempt to intimidate you into complying. Instead, he just nodded and subtly palmed the front of his pants.  “I know I let you maul me in this limo last time,” you felt confident enough that he wouldn’t try anything to continue, “but that was when I was trying to lull you into a false sense of domination. So we’re going to have dinner first and you’re going to be nice to me. And then, once we’re on the way to your place, that’s when I’ll let you take control.”  Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating what you’d said. You could see his habitual tendencies to objectify every women he talked to were battling with his clear enjoyment of being bossed around, “Okay, deal. But you’ll be fucking in for it later.”

“Who’s house is this?” Ben asked as he offered you a hand out of the limo, the bag of food in his other. You leant back in to grab the bottle of champagne and the glasses, able to feel Ben ogling the hem of your dress as it rose up the back of your legs, “It’s not the house we’re here for, c’mon.” You led him around the corner and up a little alley that ran behind the houses. Ben scrunched up his nose a little, “Bit…dingy isn’t it. Not really the sort of place I want to eat. Quickie during a party is a different story though.” You ignored him, leading him further down the path until it opened out into a little garden which was surrounded by trees, making it feel removed from the outside world. Ben’s dissatisfaction with the alley turned into a bemused approval, “Well this is quite nice. You set it up yourself?” “No, the lights got put up for a Christmas party a few years back and they just left them up.” Ben looked around at the twinkling white solar lights draped throughout the tree branches, “Well it’s not what I was expecting but it’s nice. Cute. Little bit romantic even with the moonlight and all. Well done.” You laughed a little and took the bag from him as you sat down in the middle of a circle of stone pavers, pulling out the few dishes you’d ordered as well as some paper plates and bamboo cutlery. Ben watched you for a while until you told him to sit down. He warily crouched down, brushing leaf litter from a patch before he sat proper. When he caught your raised eyebrow he shrugged, “This suit is worth more than you make in a year. Not even the best cunt in the world could make me ruin it.” “You think I have the best cunt in the world? I’m flattered,” you continued dishing up the food, handing a plate to Ben. “That’s not what I meant. We’ll see after tonight though. If you behave and take me the way I want, you might be in the running.” You did your best to hide a smile, trying not to give away how amusing his comment was. That is, until he took it too far and your smile turned into an eye roll. “Although, to really be sure I’d have to have all the contenders lined up for me to test out one after another. Hmmm, now that’s a thought." You cleared your throat, hoping a gentle reminder would be enough but Ben remained lost in pornographically unrealistic fantasies, the outline of his cock much more visible than it had been a moment before. “Fork Ben?” you asked, tempted to poke him with the implement.” “You’ve gotten eager but alright.” This time you did poke him, just quickly in the shoulder, emphasising correct articulation as you repeated, “Fork.” “Ow, alright.” He took the cutlery from you, “you’re the one who was talking about cunts though. Can’t blame me for mishearing.” Before you could do more than huff in response Ben quickly said, “So, you gonna explain this place to me? Because I can tell you, if we’re caught trespassing here, we’ll definitely end up in the papers and that sort of publicity is much less fun than being seen at a nice restaurant.”

You shook your head as you settled back with your own plate, “No, we have permission to be here. Hows the food by the way?” “Incredible. Can’t believe I haven’t heard of them before.” “Well they don’t have any Michelin stars so maybe that’s why. And don’t you start telling your rich friends about it. I don’t want you ruining my favourite Thai place.” Ben laughed, “So when you say we have permission to be here what do you mean?” “Well, I grew up in this area actually. One street over, but I used to come to this spot a lot. It was designed to be a little community garden, there’s still some planters over along the fence, but mostly it gets used for street parties and things, so usually it was empty. I used to come here when I wanted to be alone. It seemed so secret and secluded and, I don’t know, kind of magical I guess. I mean, now I know it wasn’t quite as secret as I thought. The house that we’re behind can see directly between those two trees,” you pointed at them, “and the old couple who used to live there were friends with my parents, so they’d keep an eye on me. And then when I was a bit older I did some baby sitting for their daughter who eventually moved back into the house to look after her parents and who still lives there now since she inherited it.” “So she can see us? Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism.” “She’s overseas at the moment. But our families have kept in contact and when I said I had a date I wanted to bring here she said it’d be fine.” “Condemning silence about exhibitionism which I’ve definitely filed away. But this place is nice. A little dirty perhaps, but nice.” He had another mouthful and then said, “So, why exactly did you bring me here?” “Isn’t that obvious?” He hummed thoughtfully, “Because you’re a dirty girl who likes doing it outside? Because you didn’t want me to have home ground advantage? Because you don’t like the idea of other women having me and this way you get me all to yourself? Am I getting close?” “I wanted to see you away from the cameras and the fawning models and the arseholes you call friends. I wanted a nice, normal sort of a night where we weren’t going to end up on the front page of every gossip website. And I wanted to see if you were a prick even without an audience.” “Please, you like it” he scoffed teasingly, “And I don’t understand what you’ve got against having your photo taken. I told you last time that being seen is half the fun. I mean, don’t me wrong, this is nice too. Just a bit boring in comparison.” “Mmm, well I’m sure there’ll be plenty of articles speculating on where you were tonight since no one’s got a picture.” Ben perked up a little at the idea, “That’s a good point. Maybe a quiet night every so often isn’t a bad idea.”

For the next little while, as you finished your dinner, Ben oscillated between total sweetheart and utter dickhead, as though he were playing Double Dutch with the line between. You’d hoped that getting him on his own would discourage some of the behaviours he’d displayed last time you’d been with him. If he wasn’t around his idiot friends, he’d have no one to objectify women with. If you weren’t at a restaurant, none of his previous or prospective conquests could remind him of wild nights that he’d then tell you all about. If he couldn’t throw money around in order to buy your company for the night, he’d have to offer stimulating conversation and a genuine reason for your interest instead. But apparently it was not as cause and effect as you’d assumed and Ben still managed to do all the things you’d hoped to avoid. And if anything, being alone with him with no other women to distract made him even more intent on getting you out of your clothes. He suggested first that dinner would taste better eaten off your tits. And then when you tried to come up with a new topic of conversation, he decided to reminisce about a time he’d seduced a TV personality on the set of a cooking show after they’d both been judging it. And every time you took a sip of champagne he’d watch as if telepathically trying to get you drunk. The annoying thing was that in between he was absolutely delightful. You knew there was a decent man buried beneath the layers of wankery his affluent lifestyle had imbued him with. But it was only after he smiled charmingly, leaned in close, and suggested you give him a quick handy if you weren’t going to lift your skirt, that you grew fed up enough to voice the opinion you’d formed about his style of flirting. “Y’know, I thought you’d be better at it.” “Better at what?” he asked suspiciously, “I can assure you I’m incredible at it, you just need a proper demonstration.” “No not that. Flirting. I mean, that is what you’re trying to do isn’t it?” “Obviously,” he said, taken aback. “I guess you’ve never had to really try have you? You were blessed with looks and money. Probably never been turned down in your life, even when you should have been.” “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually are as dumb as the rest of them. And here I was thinking fucking your brains out would be an actual accomplishment.” “No, I just….it’s not good flirting. You realise that right?” “What do you mean not good flirting? It works every time.” “No, I think it’s the money that works every time. Being rich means you can get away with a lot of other bullshit.” When he seemed likely to try and contradict you, you spoke over the top of him, “Listen, I know I can’t speak for every woman you hit on but I can tell you that if an average looking guy with an average amount of money tried to flirt the way you do, he would be shot down. Very, very quickly. For the most part women don’t want to be degraded by random guys they go out with. And they don’t want to hear about all your other conquests when you’re hitting on them.” “Well what would you know,” he said, crossing his arms in sullen defensiveness.

You turned up the condescension, “Aww baby, I get it. You’ve never had to learn how to keep a girl interested without buying her attention." Ben was still pouting but his expression had changed, less cocksure. “It’s okay baby, I’ll keep you in line.” Ben gave half a nod but then paused, “Hey, wait. Stop making me feel subby, I’m meant to be domming tonight.” You laughed at how he sounded almost like he was going to throw a tantrum, “but it’s so easy and fun.” “Well turning you into a fucked out cockslut will be fun too.” There was a short pause and then Ben, much more seriously said, “But you really think my flirting is bad?” “I hate to break it to you but, kinda yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. You just need some work. Sometimes you take things a bit far with the teasy banter.” “Like when?” “Hmmm well, just before when you were bragging about how expensive your suit is – which is pretty unsexy by the way – and then I countered with a joke about having the best cunt in the world. Personally I didn’t mind your come back about making me behave or whatever. It was a little crass maybe but not too much more than what I’d said, and since we both know I’m letting you take charge tonight it was a bit hot. But then you took it too far by inventing a scenario in which you would have the chance to compare me to other women. We went from hot to ick in a matter of seconds.” “I’m pretty sure I was implying that you would win.” “Didn’t really sound like it and absolutely not the point. How can I put it? When you talk to me like I’m a normal human being not something put in front of you for your sexual gratification, when we have a proper conversation with a little bit of banter, that’s fun and enjoyable and makes me want to sleep with you. But then you’ll tell me about some other woman you had sex with or you’ll make a derogatory comment about my friend, whom you’ve not even properly met, or you’ll act like you expect me to get my tits out as, I don’t know, decoration while you eat. Basically anything to imply that the only reason you’re even here with me is to have sex.” “But that was the agreement.” “I know. And I am totally fine with having a night out with the expectation it’ll end in sex. But it would be nice, and it would make me want to fuck you more, if you acted like getting laid wasn’t the only thing you care about. Especially because sometimes it’s like you don’t even care who you have sex with as long as you get off, like you have no interest in if I enjoy it, you just want to use me cause I'm there.” “And that’s bad?” “As a flirting technique yes.” “But it’s a complement? And I’ve been with loads of women who say being used is hot.” “Well it’s not the nicest complement ever. And I’m not saying it isn’t hot in some situations. But not everyone likes it and even women who do enjoy it don’t necessarily want it all the time or with someone they’ve never slept with before.” “Lighten up, it’s a bit of fun and I always get them off." “Yeah but you imply that you don’t care if they cum or not which makes you seem like a bit of an asshole. Plus sometimes it can come off a little rapey. Less like a ‘I don’t care if you cum’ and more of a ‘I don’t care if you actually want it’ type thing. I don’t think I need to tell you why that’s unattractive.” “I- no- how,” Ben spluttered before he finally managed, “I would never!” “I’m not saying you have and I’m not saying you would. But sometimes you can come off a bit like that, even if it’s well intentioned. Last time we went out you pinned me down in the back of your car, your hand on my throat, and told me I was going to do everything you wanted. You were practically a stranger, I didn’t know where we were, I had no quick way of leaving partly because we were in your car and partly because of the stupidly high shoes I was wearing. It was kind of threatening. I mean I know that wasn’t your intention but…” you trailed off letting Ben absorb what you’d said.

“I really didn’t realise that’s how I sounded, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I was never scared or anything, I didn’t think you would rape me. And I don’t say this to accuse you of something or to be mean. I’m just sick of some of the things you’ve been saying, and I think you deserve to know that what you think is cheeky flirting can come across differently to the women you’re flirting with. "Um, well, thanks I guess. ‘Spose it is better for me to know. Don’t want to get cancelled or whatever, father would kill me. So, do you want me to take you home now?” “What? No, not at all.” “I don’t want you to think you have to sleep with me. If you want to end tonight early, I’m okay with that.” “Oh, baby, no, that’s not what I want. I came here knowing I’d end up in your bed and I think we can still have fun. Besides, I’m still eating.” “Are you sure? Wouldn’t think you’d still be up for it after everything you said.” “To tell the truth I'd really love to dom you now. Punish you for some of the gross bullshit you’ve said, put you in your place again. But we made a deal and I’m very happy to hold to it.” “Really? I think you killed my boner.” You giggled, “Well if you don’t want to, we can just finish dinner and you can drop me home. But I think I can get you back up.” Ben eyed you suspiciously, “How?” “I train you to behave better.” He shifted surreptitiously but didn’t say anything. “We stay here, finish dinner, finish his bottle of champagne, talk for a bit. But every time you say something I would consider bad flirting technique, I will do something to remind you to be better. Pull your hair, maybe edge you, whatever will get the message across.” “I guess that could be fun.” Ben said, trying to sound as if he didn’t mind and failing, “Not really the deal we made though.” You laughed, “Are you telling me that wouldn’t make you want revenge? Being edged and teased when you were meant to be in charge. Wouldn’t that rile you up. Make you want to turn the tables, show me who’s boss. I mean, all your cocky dom behaviour is what got me wanting to tie you up last time, but maybe it doesn’t work like that for you.” “Oh! I hadn’t thought of it like that.” “Because you like when I tell you what to do.” “No. Well maybe a bit. But mostly because I feel bad and thought I should just do what you want so you’d know I wouldn’t, like, hurt you or whatever. I mean, I would have expected another night for you to make it up to me but…” “It is tempting but I’ll admit I might have some ulterior motives for letting you dom me,” you leaned closer to Ben as if you were about to reveal a big secret, “You can learn a lot about how to control a guy by letting him control you. So I’m happy to let you do virtually anything you want to me. With a few exceptions.” “What sort of exceptions?” “I don’t mind anal play,” you dropped into a more serious tone rather than the sultry one you’d slipped into, “but I haven’t done any prep for it so none of it tonight please. Also, I would prefer any marks left are in easy to hide places. Concealer can be bloody expensive and I don’t want to waste any on whatever hickeys and bruises you want to leave. And I’m not super into choking. I don’t mind a hand on my neck but no squeezing if possible.” Ben hummed, “But everything else is on the cards? Mouth and cunt? Spanking? Hair pulling? Tying you up?” “Mmhmm. Whatever you want. As soon as we’re back in that car of yours. Of course, if you’re feeling all subby then that could be what you want.” A low rumble emanated from Ben’s throat as if he were growling and it made you intrigued and a little wet. But you did your best to play it cool, “See, looks like we’re fixing your boner already.”

Fortunately for you, it seemed to take Ben a little while to grasp just what you considered inappropriate flirting. At first you kept your reminders small, giving him firm taps and small pinches, maybe cutting him off to tell him to try again. But, when the lessons didn’t seem to be sticking, you ramped it up a little. By the time you were finished with the food and had moved on to finishing the champagne, he once again tried to describe a night he’d spent with another women, going into unnecessary detail about her figure in less than polite terms. You let him talk as you undid his zip and reached into his pants. Ben hummed as your fingers stroked along his already semi hard length, easily pulled free since he’d not worn underwear either, “Your gonna try and outdo her now are you?” he asked, seemingly having forgotten your threats, “Hope you know how to suck properly cause she was an expert.” You didn’t respond, just kept focused on the handjob as Ben went back to describing what the young woman had done to him. His voice became strained as he got more excited, his cock well and truly hard within your grasp, beads of precum at his tip. “Why’d you stop?” he groaned when you removed your hand before he could finish. “I told you I’d edge you.” “I thought you were bluffing,” he admitted, his face flushed. “Oh I never joke about edging baby. Especially when I’m using it to correct bad behaviour.” “What’s to stop me just finishing myself off?” “Well then you obviously wouldn’t need me at all tonight.” Ben’s hand hovered over his cock for a moment before he moved it aside. “Good boy. Now tell me more about that art show you mentioned. Did you say there was an auction?”

“Um, yeah.” He blinked like he was trying to get his brain to switch thought, “Father thinks I should be seen at fundraisers and charity events more than at clubs and restaurants so I mostly went to keep him off my back. It was mostly pretty boring but I ended up winning this stunning painting, only good piece of the night. Very detailed nude. The tits on her, phwoar. I even met the model who posed for it. Wanted to com-” Ben cut himself off as you began wanking him again. “Sorry.” “Thank you for apologising baby,” you sped your hand up, figuring since he’d caught himself before he said anything really bad you wouldn’t draw this one out. “You can stop, I didn’t say anything.” “Aww baby, I still have to edge you. Otherwise you’ll never learn.” Ben swore when you did release him, his breath heavy as he said, “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even going to say anything bad. Besides your tits are better. Not as big but I’ve touched both and yours are better. No, no, please.” “You can come up with a better complement than that.” You sighed, as if edging him was a chore you didn’t enjoy. “Fucking bitch. I know this is just cause I’ve got the best cock you’ve ever had and you wanted an excuse to touch it.” “Amazingly, that’s worse. And it’ll cost you another three edges. One for calling me a bitch. One for being so far up your own ass you think I couldn’t possibly have had better. And one because I know you’re enjoying this and that’s why you keep saying the douchiest shit.” You pulled your hand away, “Thats one.” Ben whined when you started on the next, the break between only short. “Don’t cum,” you reminded him, “it will not stop me, I’ll just overstimulate you instead. Maybe then you’ll really learn your lesson.” “Please, please, close,” Ben managed to whimper, and you pulled your hand away again to reward him. Ben whined and pounded his fist against the ground once, but he managed to keep whatever thoughts he was having to himself. He was clearly learning. “Just one more, okay baby?” Ben nodded, leaning back on his elbows. His cockhead was dark and precum dripped down his shaft. He wouldn’t last if you began another edge too soon so you decided to toy with him in other ways while you waited. Pushing yourself to your knees, you gathered the hem of your dress in your fists and slowly began to raise it. “Wasn’t sure I believed you,” Ben said, not quite managing to sound as cocky as he had before the edges but making a valiant attempt “Good to know you can follow instructions.” He reached a hand out as if to touch your naked pussy but you tutted and grabbed his wrist. “Not yet, baby.” you shuffled closer, keeping the front of your dress lifted as you placed a knee on either side of his legs. “Now edge yourself for me.” Ben groaned with longing as he looked at your cunt, but then he switched to glaring at you as he did as you’d said, slowly working his hand along his shaft, aided by precum and a little of his own spit. You’d been fully prepared to rub yourself along his cock or even against his thigh if he’d made a fuss, but he hadn’t even tried to argue. He was clearly planning your demise, if his expression was anything to go by, but you had expected that and only minded in so much as you were missing out on the subby little face he made when you’d had him last and he’d given in completely. But you let him go, occasionally instructing him, but mostly just watching his reactions, seeing if you could pick when he was close. It didn’t take long for him to get there, whining as he pulled his hand back. “Good boy,” you let your dress drop again, leaning forward to carefully tuck his leaking cock back into his pants, hoping that just your touch wouldn’t set him off.

Settling back onto the rug you continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, sipping at your champagne. Ben drank his a little faster, still staring daggers at you from over the rim of his glass, even when responding to you. But he seemed to have learnt his lesson. Once or twice he started to say something but cut himself off and changed tact, and you ended up having a genuinely pleasant chat. He was still flirty, still explicit about how much he wanted to fuck you, just less obnoxious about it. You didn’t have to hear about any more of his previous sexual escapades at any rate, and he was attentive enough to make you feel like sex was only most of what he cared about. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery and see what he had in store for you.  “Bottles empty."  “I’ve got more back at the hotel” Ben said, catching on instantly – the bottle had been empty for a little while.   “Perfect,” you smiled and let him help you to your feet, collecting the rubbish in the bag from the Thai place and dropping it into a bin out on the street as he hurried you back to the car. The driver stubbed out a cigarette on the road when he saw you approaching and was holding the door open by the time you reached him. 

You were barely inside when Ben put his hand on your knees, pushing your legs open. “Already?” you asked, breath hitching as he exposed you. “Are you kidding? After what you did tonight, you think I’d wait?” he leaned in closer, one hand sliding up your thigh as the other remained firm on your knee so you couldn’t close your legs again, “After last time you really think I wouldn’t be itching to get my hands on you? You got something no one else has had and I’m so fucking annoyed that I liked it. I went home so pissed off after we docked because I know that you could have me on my knees, at your beck and call, in an instant. And I can’t have you out there bragging about it, telling anyone else, or I’m ruined. Especially because I also love domming sluts. Now, we did your quiet little dinner thing, I listened to you criticise me and imply I don’t satisfy my women. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I let you have some fun at my expense. You were obviously so desperate to get my cock out that you had to make up an excuse to touch me,��� his fingers stroked against your cunt and he smirked as if your wetness was proving him right, “but that’s okay. I like my whores desperate.” You wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that he was wrong, or better yet to steal control from him again, but as soon as you opened your mouth his palm was covering it. “Shhh no, it’s my turn to talk. I think it’s time for you to have a lesson, a hard lesson, in what it means to be my whore. That was our deal anyway. So you’re going to be quiet and do what I want. Nod if you consent.” You decided you must have got through to him at least a little bit since he was now trying to make consent clear, it was a far cry from when he’d last had you pinned down in his limo anyway, and you had agreed to it beforehand. So you nodded. “You’re going to be an eager and willing slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded but it wasn’t enough for Ben who moved his hand away and ordered “repeat what you are.” “You’re eager and willing slut. Sir.” “That’s what I like to hear. And you will enjoy everything I do to you. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise. Now show me your cunt again.” He sat back and you readjusted yourself in the seat, hitching your dress up as you spread your legs wider. Ben hummed in appreciation, “Touch yourself for me.” You swallowed thickly and did as he asked, stroking your fingers over your lips, already a little wet from teasing him. But Ben expected more, “Do it properly. You know how big I am, get yourself ready so I can fit.”

It made you want to roll your eyes but you resisted the urge, ready to play along like you’d promised. Instead, you kept eye contact with him as you stuck your fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with saliva before moving them back down to your cunt. On another day you might have been able to use the position to your advantage, make him so eager for you with your display that you could take charge before he realised what was happening. You were certain that if you’d made Ben watch you fingering yourself last time he would have turned submissive before you even made it onto the yacht. But he seemed determined to give you a taste of your own medicine today. He made a pleased sound and just watched. There was definitely a tension to him – something in the way he sat back from you and how his hand rested on the edge of the seat as if he were about to dig his fingers into the soft leather to keep from giving in – but he kept up the appearance of nonchalance. Which made you less sure of your assessment, and more worried about what he had in store for you. By the time you were adding a third finger, you felt very flustered and warm. Ben hadn’t looked away once. He’d relaxed more, content with watching despite how he was straining against the fabric of his pants. He’d made a couple of comments to either instruct you more specifically, or to gloat about how following orders suited you. “You like to play at taking charge, but we both know you want a man like me to control you.” You shook your head but your defiance was undercut by a whine. Ben just laughed, “you’re cunt agrees with me. I can see how wet you are. I can hear it. Don’t think you’re wet enough to handle my cock yet though. Guess I should give you a hand.” He’d been slowly rolling up his sleeve as he spoke but once it was up he quickly moved to take over. His body boxed you in against the seat and he pulled your fingers free, replacing them with his own. You half expected him to reach for your throat like last time but he didn’t. He did however shove three large fingers into your cunt, making you whine a little at the extra stretch of them. “Knew you needed help,” he smirked as he began fingering you relentlessly, his movements shallow and fast but reaching deeper. After a few rapid strokes he added in a little curl of his fingers against your front wall and you moaned suddenly. The look Ben gave you was his most insufferable yet, entirely too pleased with himself, but there wasn’t much you could do since he was making you feel so good.

Entirely too quickly he stopped and you looked around confused, wondering if you’d arrived already.  Ben didn’t answer, more concerned with getting his pants undone and pushing them down.   You were about to suggest that maybe he was the desperate one when he sat down and beckoned you over.   “You wanted it so bad, whore, here you go.” When you didn’t move straight away he clicked his fingers, “I know it's a monster but your cunt can take it. C’mon.”  You moved closer and Ben grabbed your hips, manhandling you onto his lap, groaning as you sank down he shaft.  Your back was to Ben, so you braced your hands on his knees, assuming you were meant to ride him. But he stopped you, wrapping an arm around you to keep you still, “no don’t move. You can warm me for a bit while I explain the trouble you’re in.”  You squirmed, not out of a strong desire to exhaust yourself riding him, more to show he wouldn’t have it too easy, even if you had agreed to submit. Ben’s grip remained tight but his other hand did slip down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with surprising ease and rubbing it lightly. Not firm enough to get you very far but enough to make you want more.   “You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine. I’m going to make you wait, and I’m going to make you beg, and I’m going to have you as much as I can tonight. And maybe again in the morning if you’re lucky.”  “How do you know I’ll beg?”  “Well if you don’t that’ll be your problem. Because you won’t be cumming until you do. But, see, I’ll get off as much as I want. Your little edging game means that even just being in you has me close already. It gave me some ideas too.” That was when he started rubbing your clit properly, his fingertips pressing against it, pulling you closer to the edge.   You knew it wouldn’t last, that he’d stop before you got anywhere near orgasm, but that didn’t change how disappointing it was when he did. Especially because you involuntarily clenched around his cock at the sudden lack of stimulation, and heard Ben groan in your ear.  “God you feel good when I deny you,” he said as he started again.   You quickly lost track of how many edges you had and how long you’d been in the car.   Ben hadn’t had the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but he’d made you whine and whimper. And he’d had more actual satisfaction than you, managing an orgasm just from the wet warmth of you tightening around him a few times. He’d gone rigid for a moment as he reached his release but then he’d recovered himself and gone right back to edging you. You’d tried to clench around him more intentionally, hoping to overstimulate him a little, but if he felt much he didn’t let on. Which meant that by the time he pushed you from his lap you could feel a combination of his cum and your slick on your thighs and dripping from your cunt.   The car pulled up as Ben said, “Clean yourself up,” tossing you a few tissues from a pocket inside his suit jacket, “Can’t have you dripping through the foyer.”  That felt more humiliating than anything else he’d done or said, especially because of how horny and wet you were, but Ben didn’t seem to notice as he tucked himself away again and smoothed out his suit.   Once you’d straightened yourself up as much as you could in the confines of the limo, Ben helped you out, once again acting the gentleman as he offered you his arm.

You tried to act as normal as possible as you walked through the foyer of what was obviously a five star hotel, an ambitious goal considering what had happened on the drive there and how fancy the place seemed.  "Do you live here?” you asked, hoping that having a conversation to focus on would help with the image you were attempting to cultivate.   Ben shook his head as you approached the lifts, “No, I have a house. Father bought it for me when I turned 18. He thought it would do me good to live on my own or something. But I never take the women I fuck there.”  You blinked, surprised, “why not?”  “If I was dating them it would be different, and in fact one of my exes did move in there with me for a while. But one night stands don’t get to see where I live. I permanently keep the penthouse suite here for getting my dick wet. That’s how you know you’re one of my whores.” He didn't give you a chance to respond, pulling you into a demanding kiss, his hands roaming over your arse until the elevator dinged at his floor.  

It was a short walk to his door and Ben already had the keycard out by the time you reached it, clearly eager for more. He took just enough time to place a do not disturb hanger on the door handle before he pushed you to your knees right there in the entry way. When you looked up he was working on unbuckling his pants again, his cock already hard as he pulled it out, his quick refractory time a result of the edges, or so you assumed.   “I’m sure you’ve got some little plan to get on top going on in your head right now, Y/N,” he said as he worked on his pants, “But I assure you it won’t be happening tonight, so I think a little test is in order. You need to prove you can submit before you go any further.”  You nodded meekly, already horny and resigned to your fate.   “Well go on, suck.”  You shuffled forward, feeling Ben’s large fingers twisting softly in your hair to guide you. Bracing yourself for his fist to tighten or for him to force you down his shaft, you pressed your lips to his tip. But he defied your expectations, his hands leaving you altogether once he had you in place. It was strange but you didn’t complain, focusing instead on his cock.  Ben sighed in pleasure as you brought a spit wet palm up to stroke his shaft, your mouth busy becoming acquainted with his tip, but otherwise he made little acknowledgement of your actions. Instead he preoccupied himself getting undressed.   You felt more than saw him shimmy out of his jacket, flinging it unceremoniously to the floor behind him. Next came the sound of his wristwatch being placed, much more carefully, on the hall stand beside you. A moment later his cufflinks joined it. When he took off his dress shirt you had to pause your bobbing, letting him fall from your lips as you pulled back to watch. He did have a very nice chest, you remembered that from last time, and you were sure he’d take your looking as a complement.   Ben flashed you a pleased look as he noticed you, allowing you to watch as he slipped the shirt from his arms and dropped it to the floor, but once it was off he considered the show over. His fist was once again in your hair, this time much more forcefully tugging you back towards his cock.   “I didn’t tell you to stop.” he drawled as you got your lips around his tip and felt his palm pushing you further down his length.   You managed okay to start but without being able to control your pace as much you couldn’t keep from gagging as you took Ben deeper.   Ben hummed, clearly satisfied with the sound, his hand loosening a little as a reward.   You took the hint and found a rhythm that pleased him, working yourself up and down his shaft, your hand stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. You gagged a few more times as you pushed yourself further, but Ben definitely enjoyed it when you did.  All of a sudden he stopped you, both hands in your hair to keep you from moving.   “I think you’re ready now, hands off.”  You had no idea what he thought you were ready for but you did as he said, partly because you wanted to prove him wrong about your ability to follow orders, but mostly because you were very turned on and wanted to hurry up and get to the bit where he’d fuck you for real. The thought was distracting enough that you were caught off guard as he pressed his hips forward, pushing more of his cock than you were ready for towards your throat. You gagged again and Ben groaned. 

“Good girl, just take it.” He said grunted as he thrust into your mouth again, and then again, not worrying about going slow.  Your hair was tangled tight in his fingers, keeping you from moving too far from where he wanted you. Instinct made you try to lean back a little but aside from Ben’s grip, you were too close to the door to get very far. You heard Ben’s knuckles bump against it, the solid wood an intimidating barrier behind you that made it clear you had little choice but to do as Ben wanted. You assumed that if you’d tapped out, Ben would have let you, but you didn’t want to. Ben had been right when he’d said it was hot to be used. You were already very wet but your pussy ached as he fucked your mouth, denying you what you really wanted so he could take what would satisfy him. Each shift of his hips made indecent wet sounds as saliva built up and dripped onto your chin and he pulled more gags from your throat. Tears pooled in your eyes but Ben didn’t seem to care. He kept up fucking you for longer than you might have expected if you’d been able to think clearly enough to guess. Especially with how turned on he must have been, just based on the groans and moans he made as he used you. But finally Ben seemed to reach a limit of just how much pleasure he could withstand. His hips sped up, and he grunted each word on a new thrust as he said, “Gonna fucking cum. You better fucking swallow.”  You blinked more tears from your eyes which Ben took as compliance with his wants as he got himself off, rutting against your tongue until he stopped, keeping you pinned between his hips and the door as he filled your mouth with cum. Ben pulled out quickly which you were thankful for. You’d been able to steal breaths throughout the blowjob but had unwittingly held your breath as he finished, and were eager to be free. He took half a step back, hands rising to his hips as he stared you down, daring you to recoil at the taste of his cum or worse still to spit it out. Between heavy breaths through your nose your swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe your eyes or face.  “Good girl,” Ben cooed as if he’d expected a brattier display, “I knew that fem dom shit was just a cry for attention. This was what you really wanted all along.”  You shook your head so that you could at least say you tried to disagree, but Ben was more concerned with tucking his cock away again and missed the display of defiance altogether. Once he was sorted he helped you up, taking a moment to examine your face before dragging his thumbs under your eyes to clear up the mascara that had transferred there.  “Pointless,” he muttered softly when he realised he was mostly just spreading the mascara around, “I’m sure it wont be the last you cry tonight. Unless of course you want to admit you’re nothing more than a desperate whore and beg for my cock.”  “I’m not begging,” you frowned, sure he’d be quicker to give in once he got close to your pussy.   Ben just smiled, “You will. For now I want you on the bed.”  You made to move down the hall but he stopped you before you made it more than a step.   “Wait. There’s a rule I have. Whores aren’t allowed to wear clothes past this point. I might make an exception for nice lingerie but not tonight. Not for you.” He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of stripping for him, pulling the zip of your dress down and tugging on your dress until it slipped down to join the mess of discarded menswear on the floor, quickly followed by your bra. “Mmmm,” he hummed as his eyes raked over your naked body, “Perfect. Bed, now.” A spank landed on your arse cheek and you hurried ahead of him, able to feel Ben’s eyes on your arse for the whole length of the corridor.  

The upside of being on the bed before Ben had even entered the room was that you had ample time to admire how good he looked without a shirt. You openly ogled him as he moved to the cupboard, taking a moment to dig something out, though his delicious back was blocking your view of what it was. Although your preoccupation with his naked chest also meant you weren’t as observant as you might otherwise have been. You were too distracted to notice him tuck something into his pocket, and you entirely missed it when he began speaking, only realising when he seemed to address you.  “-only fair I get to do the same to you, right?”  You blinked, knowing you’d missed something but not wanting to let on because you knew he’d be a dick about it.   As it was he raised his eyebrows and prompted you to respond, “Well? It’s a simple question. You’re not normally this ditzy, did sucking me off make you too horny to think?”  You shook your head, “No Sir, I thought it was rhetorical.”   For a moment you weren’t sure your gambit had worked but then Ben laughed, “Almost a shame you’re not so cockdumb yet. But maybe you’re right,” Ben strode around to the top right corner of the bed, squatting slightly to pull something from under the mattress, “My expectation was that you’d agree.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged it back, fitting a black loop around it.   As he tightened the restraint you realised what he’d been talking about. That this was pay back for when you’d tied him to the yacht’s bed. He’d been eager for it then, practically walked you through tying sailor worthy knots with the rope, but you couldn’t blame him for wanting to see you bound to his bed in the same way. So you just wriggled yourself into a little more comfort as he rounded the bed and restrained your other wrist too.   “Now what are you going to do to me?” you pouted at him coyly, feeling a little like you were poking a bear.   “I already told you.” he said, kneeling on the end of the bed, “I’m going to make you beg.”  That was when he revealed what he’d taken from his cupboard and tucked into his pocket. The vibrator wasn’t huge but it was powerful, making you jolt as he pressed it to your clit.  You squirmed but the wrist cuffs kept you from being able to move too far from its buzzing and you couldn’t help but moan as your long denied orgasm built.   Ben quickly stopped the toy, replacing it with his fingers, dragging them through the wetness between your lips, “Go on whore, tell me you want my cock in this needy cunt.”  You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from moaning again as his fingers entered you easily. He thrust them in and out of you a few times before bringing the vibrator back to your clit. Whenever Ben sensed you were getting close he’d stop touching you entirely. Sometimes even before you were close, preferring to hedge his bets and stop early rather than risk giving you the orgasm. It would undercut his dominance if you came earlier than he wanted, even if he ruined it. So he was careful with how he edged you. He alternated between his fingers and the vibe. When he felt you were enjoying yourself too much he’d intentionally ignore your clit. You’d be left with three of his fingers pumping into you, hearing Ben make pleased little hums when he found spots within you that made you whine or gasp. When that didn’t seem to be enough to make you give in he upped the ante, pressing the tip of the vibrator into you. It didn’t stretch you as much as his fingers (or his cock) did, but the patterns of vibrations when he turned it on made up for what it lacked in size.

While you’d already decided you���d let Ben have it his way, part of you still wanted him to have to work for it. Unfortunately, any ideas you had about withstanding his onslaught went out the door very quickly. You were way too worked up to hold out and the combination of his fingers and the toy he was fucking into your cunt had you begging in only a few short moments. At your first, “please Sir,” Ben laughed. “Embarrassing how easy that was,” he smirked, “I expected more but I guess you really are just one of my whores.” You whined as he removed the vibrator and his fingers, worried the edging would continue all night. “S’pose it’s about time I fuck you properly. Lord knows im stiff for it.” You watched as he undid his zip and finally removed his pants, his cock semi hard again, and you couldn’t keep yourself from begging again. “Only one question left. How should I do it? Flip you over and take you from behind?” He wrapped his fist around his cock and you whimpered as he stroked himself harder, “Make you ride me? I know how much you like being on top. Think I like the idea of seeing you under me too much for that. This time anyway. No, I know what I want.” His breath came a little harder as he moved onto the bed, cock still in hand as he pushed your legs open again. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you. I want you right where you are, tied up, incapable of dominating me. You’ll soon see how much you like it.” As he spoke he pressed against your hole, teasing you one final time before he finally gave you what you wanted. His cock slipped in easily, and Ben’s groan was nearly as loud as yours. At another time, with free hands and a clearer mind, you might have enjoyed that more, knowing Ben was as desperate as you were. But after so much edging and teasing, you could only focus on how good and full you felt. Ben’s eagerness extended beyond just sounds of delight too. Any plans he might have had to draw it out, go slow and deep to torment you more, went out the window as soon as he felt you clench around his shaft. His hips jolted forward, cock sinking into your audibly wet cunt, and he couldn’t help but do it again and again, falling into a rapid rhythm. Barely half his length made it in you, his thrusts too rapid to allow him to get much deeper, but it didn’t matter. The feeling of him dragging against your walls would have been enough, but Ben also added a thumb to your clit. He rubbed you messily, more concerned with how it felt to be inside you, but you didn’t need much stimulation to get close again. “Cum,” he said simply when you moaned about how good he felt. He fucked you through the first orgasm, praising you for being such a good whore, not even relenting when you were panting, no longer arching under him. “You’re going to cum again, sweetheart” he ordered, pounding into you with a particularly hard thrust that made your head spin. A slight breathlessness was the only sign he was at all worked up, which just added to his control, and all you could do was nod in agreement, sure you would cum as many times as he wanted no matter how hard it became. Ben chuckled, clearly pleased with how fucked out and compliant you were, but focused his energy into fucking you rather than any banter. You squirmed a little more, a touch sensitive after your first orgasm, but not uncomfortably so, and your second came up quickly too, your body eager for release after being denied it for so long. Ben didn’t last much longer either, the feeling of your cunt tightening round his cock again enough to undo him. He groaned more and more as he got closer, finally pressing himself as deep as you could take him as he hit his release with a satisfied moan.

Ben collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you comfortingly into the mattress as his lips found your neck. He was breathing harder now, the puffs of warmth tickling your skin.   You groaned as you tried to shift under him, your thighs aching from being spread open, but you found you couldn’t close them since Ben was still filling you.   “Uh uh uh,” he tutted into your skin, “Didn’t say you could shut your legs.” He pushed himself back up, leaning back to look at himself disappearing into you, “You look good like this.”  You shivered as he ran a finger around where you were stretched around his length, your wrists jolting in the bonds.   Ben remained thoughtfully silent for a moment, absentmindedly touching your pussy and your thighs, as he took in your dishevelled and restrained appearance.   “I think I want to see you cum again.”   “Again?” you whimpered, partly from his touch and partly from his tone.  He answered by reaching for the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit and holding it there until he’d forced a third orgasm from you, just because he could.  It was good but a lot, your body more sensitive now, and unable to move as freely as you’d have liked. There was no escaping the stimulation, no shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrations or to spread them over more of your cunt than just your clit. You had to take it the way Ben wanted you to, the vibrators setting higher than you would have chosen, pressed firmly in place until your toes curled and your thighs shook.   Ben pulled out as you neared the climax, so that when you came he could watch his own release dribble onto the sheets, grinning cockily at the sight.  When he was finally satisfied, he turned the toy off and let you collapse, chuckling as he leaned over to free you from the restraints. Gently he rubbed your wrists, making sure you were okay as you gathered your senses.   “What was it you said about me not caring if my whores get off?” he asked, flopping on top of you again.  You wanted to come back with something clever but your brain was still too hazy to manage anything more than, “Oh shut up.”  “You beg real fucking pretty by the way. It’s obvious I’m the best you’ve had.”   You rolled your eyes at his smirking, the insufferable way he was speaking reigniting your desire to put him in his place, “Keep being such an ass and I’ll have to pick out a toy to use on you.” You squeaked as Ben cut you off, grabbing your cheeks so your lips were pushed into a pout.  “No. Eager and willing sluts don’t threaten their Sir’s. While you’re here, you’re mine,” his hand covered your cunt possessively, “I’m going to want you again tonight and I expect you to keep being the good girl I know you secretly love being.”  You swallowed thickly, nodding in his grasp.  Ben let you go and, as if to soften his words or placate you, added, “But maybe tomorrow I’ll let you tell me some of your silly ideas, see if you can convince me they’re more fun than fucking my new toy brainless.” 

[iamsherlocked-1998]

The Canteen 🍸

Warnings: A short story, Mention of alcohol consumption, implied sex, Mando is not having his best moment.

Words: 700

Summary: Only the beat of your heart as a chorus...

*NOTE: The story follows an alternate timeline in which Din visited the living waters but Grogu stayed to train with Luke, in my mind they meet again later.

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Din Djarin always knew he was different. As a Mandalorian, he had been trained to keep emotions in check and focus on his duty. But there was something about that person that intrigued and attracted him.

It was about the bartender on a small forest planet on the outskirts of the galaxy. Younger than the Mandalorian, was known for his sharp wit, quickness, and a kind but reckless heart. It was also rumored that no one could move in the village without him finding out, which could be of great help in the job Djarin had at hand. He was mortified to admit that the reward was elusive and chase lasted for long weeks.

Din couldn't help but be drawn to the bartender's rugged good looks, his piercing gaze, and quiet confidence. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed without remedy.

One night, Din walked into the local saloon. The air was thick with smoke and the sound of laughter and music filled the room. That's when Djarin saw him, in all splendor.

His gaze met the mandalorian across the room and Din felt a sudden warmth in his chest. He approached and they struck up a conversation, which was very productive. Before long, the alcohol loosened their tongues and found talking about things had never told anyone before.

As night turned into early morning, Din found himself lost in his arms, the man's hard exterior breaking to reveal a gentleness Mando never knew existed. Their bodies moved in sync and, for the first time in a long time, the hunter allowed himself to completely give in to his desires.

The next morning, Din woke up alone. He searched for companion in vain, but there was no trace of him. The brunette knew what his duty was as a Mandalorian: to fulfill his task, to honor the way of life and the people who had given him a home, not long ago risked life to redeem himself, but couldn't get the memories of the previous night out of his mind.

After extensive work, the reward was finally captured. The days passed without a word from the one who was his informant, no evidence where he could have gone and Din felt more and more attracted by thoughts about the enigmatic boy. He decided to look for clues and, with a boldness that had never felt before, embarked on a journey to find him, if he didn't would be unable to close this phase of life, he wanted answers.

When finally caught a glimpse of him, he was in the middle of a dangerous confrontation with a vicious gang that had come to collect a debt, intending to kidnap him as payment to do god knows what. Din's heart swelled with pride as watched him stand firm, fearless in the face of danger.

Without thinking, Din sprang into action and fought to protect the city. As the last members of the gang left, the man turned to Din, his eyes shining with admiration and something else.

Without saying a word, in the solitude of the hostile environment of the jungle, his helmet came off, immediately their lips met in a frenzy of fiery and devotion. Din knew then that he had discovered something special: in his embrace, felt all he had never experienced before, something that felt a lot like home.

The mission was over, but for Din a new chapter began. He knew that wanted to be with sweetheart, to explore their new connection and see where this renewed path would take him.

For the first time in his life, he was no longer bound solely by a Mandalorian duty. He had found something worth fighting for, something that made him feel alive in a way he had never thought possible. And he knew, without a doubt, that would do whatever it took to protect him.