#vaguely smutty but like in a sweet way

[blacksparrowheart]

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean Word count: 1558 Genre: Romance Pairing: Jack/Elizabeth Rating: M Content warnings: Death (discussed), sexual content, infidelity (technically?)

One-shot set in the time between saving Jack from the Locker and the crew getting home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “You thought I loved him.” Understanding dawned in Elizabeth, and on its heels, anger. How dare he? And yet, saying the words aloud, something in her was shaken. She tried to push past him to the stairs, ready to storm off to cover her sudden unsteadiness, but he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her up against a pillar.

“If you make your choices alone…how can I trust you?” Will growled in a low voice.

“You can’t,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. She pushed against him again and this time he let her go - she thought she heard him say something else, but she needed to escape this moment and did not turn back.

“You forgot to deny it.” Will sighed.

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She’d been expecting the fight since Jack had revealed her betrayal on the shores of the Locker. She hadn’t expected to learn that Will had seen the kiss and thought her disloyal this whole time. She hadn’t expected her heart to throb so mightily when “…I loved him” passed her lips. Almost dizzy with confusion and a vague sort of fear, she scrambled blindly to the deck, drifting to the bow. Without a moment’s hesitation, the need to put as much distance between herself and Will propelling her forward, she clambered over the railing and tucked herself into the tiny space behind the figurehead. If she fell asleep and slid off into the water below, well, that would just solve everyone’s problems including her own. She leaned back against the Pearl and was lost to her demons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack watched as Elizabeth all but fled the hold. His eyes followed her until she disappeared toward the bow, then snapped back to see Will emerge from below as well. He looked around for a moment but turned back when he didn’t catch sight of Elizabeth and vanished again. Interesting.

Jack hadn’t planned to speak to her so soon, maybe ever again if he was honest, but the prospect of trouble in paradise created a ghost of hope in him. He followed Elizabeth’s path, looking for her in the many nooks and crannies along the way - she tended to hide the way a cat might when she was feeling emotional - until he ran out of ship. He was confused for only the briefest of moments before spotting her wedged behind the Pearl’s black angel. She was staring out at the horizon, he thought, face covered in ocean spray, but looking closer - no…she was gazing at the sparrow in the angel’s hand, and those were tears falling fast and hard from her eyes. His gut twisted. He considered walking away; that probably would’ve been the smart thing (you’re a smart man, Jack echoing in his head like a taunt). He’d never been particularly smart about his behavior around Elizabeth, though. He stepped forward.

“Lizzie.”

The quiet voice that broke through her thoughts was the last one she expected. She sat up so quickly she almost fell right off, but managed to catch herself and turned to face the man she thought might never forgive her. Jack was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t name, and it made her already troubled heart leap to her throat.

“Jack, what -” she swiped her hands across her face in an attempt to hide her weakness. He moved toward her and extended a hand.

"Why don't you come back over the railing, darling, there's a good lass," he said, concern hidden behind false condescension. She silently took his hand and did as asked, avoiding his gaze. He didn't know what to think about that - her lack of arguing, her quiet obedience. This wasn't right. Far be it from him not to take advantage, though. She tried to let go of his hand, but he only held on tighter. "Come with me." Wordlessly he led her to his quarters, not dropping her hand until he'd closed the doors behind them. After a second's hesitation, he also locked them, wanting to be absolutely certain they weren't going to be interrupted. He turned around to see her gazing at the hand he'd held. Something in his chest squeezed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She braced herself for whatever was coming. She would've expected vitriol, hate, if not for his gentleness. He called me Lizzie. Why had he held her hand? She couldn't handle kindness, not from Jack, not right now. Not after what she'd done. Not after what she was in the process of realizing, which made what she'd done that much worse.

"Jack, if you're looking for an apology, you won't get it." The words were defiant, but her voice was dull. She was trying to goad him into anger because anger she could take. Anger, well. That was the minimum she deserved from the man she'd left to die.

"Oh, Lizzie. I would never expect one." Jack grinned as he led her to his bed, urging her to sit. He pulled over a chair to sit across from her. "You did what you are best at." She flinched and closed her eyes, ready for any venomous insult he may throw at her. She decided she'd help him along.

"Yes, I suppose to you that would seem the truth. You've always seen me as just a woman, treacherous." She didn't even know fully what she was saying, she was just trying to piss him off until he felt comfortable truly letting his tongue loose. What she got instead was the shock of her life as Jack dropped to his knees in front of her, an intensity in his eyes and a dead seriousness to his tone that she'd never experienced before.

"No, luv. No. First of all, you're far from 'just a woman,' point blank but 'specially to me. Secondly, and I need you to know this in your bones - " he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, now. "What you are best at," he spoke slowly and purposefully, "is fighting for the greater good. Don't get me wrong, you're no saint, but you are good. You believe in justice, and while you have your own way of getting there, you have always chosen what is right over what is easy. When you chained me to the mast and left me for the Kraken, you did the right thing." He paused for a moment, and Elizabeth choked back a sob.

"Jack...Jack, as soon as I closed that manacle on your wrist, something in me broke. And even now, even after going to hell to get you back, knowing what it was like for you there, knowing how much I'd hurt myself by doing so, you should know that I would do it all again if given another chance." She buried her face in her hands, unconsciously clinging to his, still touching her chin. "I love you and I'd still do it again,” she finally confessed the truth she’d been grappling with since Will accused her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The words he'd never expected to hear from Elizabeth Swann's mouth left Jack utterly shattered. The whole time she'd been speaking he'd been falling harder for her - of course she'd do it again, and he was so achingly proud of her for that, but love him? Her? Love him? For a heartbeat his thoughts were in chaos while he fought to convince himself that he’d heard wrong. All of that dissolved away when he felt her tears on his skin, and suddenly everything seemed crystal clear.

In one swift motion, he came up off his knees, wrapped an arm around her waist, tilted her face to his, and caught her in a crushing kiss. She was frozen beneath him, and he broke it off quickly, afraid of damaging whatever fragile trust she may have in him. He began to pull away, but Elizabeth grabbed the front of his shirt to stop him. Incredulity etched her face, eyes wide and questioning, mouth still slightly open.

“Jack?” His name was barely audible, and he felt the weight of a thousand questions in the single word. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, heart in his throat as he prepared to say what he’d previously sworn to never admit.

“Elizabeth, I have loved you since Isla de Muerta. I didn’t realize it until the day you stood on my deck and called me a good man, and the only thought in my mind was that you were wrong…but that for you, I wanted to be.” He held her a bit tighter. “When I realized what you’d done, that you were willing to sacrifice me, I was completely lost. When I called you pirate, it was in awe and reverence, and I was absolutely content to die.”

Silence stretched between them. He felt like he was treading water, unsure if he would be thrown a line or left to drown. He’d never felt for anyone what he felt for Elizabeth, and had never planned to tell anyone, much less her. But she was suffering, and he couldn’t let that continue. He’d take the fallout if she’d only understand that he would never see her as anything less than the most perfect thing on the seven seas. That didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of her reaction, though.

He’d nearly decided this had all been a terrible mistake when she placed her hands on either side of his face and brought her lips to his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She kissed him like she was drowning and he was oxygen, and he kissed her like she was the sea and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her depths. There was no more said between them for quite a while - words would be necessary later, but right now, all they needed was each other.

Elizabeth poured her soul into that kiss, damned as she felt it was, and clung to her captain as he pressed her back onto the bed. Some part of her knew this was wrong, but she had never felt anything more right.

Jack was cradling her, allowing every possible part of their bodies to touch without putting too much of his weight on her. His hands drifted constantly; stroking her face, running through her hair, floating down her sides to her hips. Responding to his touch more on instinct than conscious thought, she spread her legs to accommodate him better, tucking one knee up. A calloused hand gripped her thigh and she moaned softly. Jack finally broke their kiss, face strained.

“Lizzie, darling. I think we should - well, maybe think a little before we go much further.” It sounded like it pained him to say this, and Elizabeth felt lightning in her blood at the thought of what he was implying. He was right, of course. There was so much that made this a bad idea - there was Will to consider, and the fact that they hadn’t quite escaped the land of the dead yet, which was such a strange thing to remember since she felt more alive than she ever had. Stopping now would be the smart thing, but her body was alight with desires she’d barely known she was capable of, and hang the smart thing. She was just starting to protest when they heard a commotion on deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack saw the fight brewing in her eyes and knew he’d lose it spectacularly. It had taken everything he had to pause in the first place. Luckily for the both of them, something seemed to be happening outside, and Lizzie squirmed out from under him to run and see what was going on, snagging a pistol on her way. He grinned - there she was, his warrior - and took a few deep breaths before rolling off the bed to follow her.

The sight that met him was a bizarre one indeed, though maybe it shouldn’t have been, given their locale. Souls. Souls in the water of those lost to the depths. The shades that Davy Jones was supposed to care for, to ferry to the other side, lost in this between place instead. He frowned as he noticed the children. Far be it from him to claim righteousness, but it did make him angry.

He heard Lizzie’s voice and turned to follow it. When he reached the railing, he felt his heart crack. Governor Swann was sitting in one of the small boats, and Jack knew instantly what that meant.

“It’s my father! We’ve made it back!” Lizzie called out to him, trying to get his attention.

“Elizabeth.” Voice soft and gentle, hating himself for what must come next. “We’re not back.” His hand brushed hers, barely. That faint, fluttering touch was the best he could do to convey the sorrow that would have to go unspoken. He watched the joy drain from her face, the desperate denial creep up to replace it. She turned away from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following days were desolate. Even the sea and the weather seemed to be in mourning as they passed into an endless doldrums. Jack didn’t try to go to Lizzie; she had enough to deal with, and maybe this grief would help her and Will find each other again. He thought back to that night, how she had screamed, how she had fought to leap into the water and save her father, how she had collapsed into Will's arms, sobbing. How they had sunk to the deck while Will comforted her - Will, not him, because that was how it should be. She had chosen Will long before she'd met him, and that was where she belonged.

It was so blasted difficult to stay away though when she looked so broken. He didn't know what to do, knew he couldn't fix this, but that didn't change the fact that he wished he could. He wished he could take her pain away, heal her, but there was nothing he could do. So he threw himself into figuring out the map instead.

He was working on it in his quarters the third night after the ghostly visitors when the door opened and someone came in. Someone who crossed the room almost silently to sit in the chair opposite him at his desk. He looked up to see Lizzie curled up and examining the map. She must have noticed his hands had stilled, because her eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Is it okay if I'm here?" She asked, almost hesitantly. In answer, Jack turned and pulled a bottle of rum out of one of the desk drawers. He passed it to her and watched with a small amount of concern as she drained almost half of it in one pull.

"It's okay," he said, "but I am curious as to why you've come." He kept his voice even, not wanting her to realize how her closeness affected him.

"I didn't want to be alone," she replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"What about Will?" He could've kicked himself for asking, but it was a valid question, and she knew it as well as he did. She averted her gaze. "Ah. Trouble?" He leaned forward slightly, not wishing further pain on her, but curious all the same. He'd never gotten around to asking her what the original problem had been the other night. Other things had distracted him.

"Will and I...I've lost him, I think, Jack." She met his eyes again and seemed to steel herself. "Not that I put that much effort into keeping him, truth be told." Jack's stomach flipped, but he waited for her to continue. "The other night, when you came and found me, I - he accused me of being in love with you. And I couldn't even deny it, because I realized that it was true." Her eyes held fire now, and a new urgency crept into her voice. "Jack. I love you. You. Far more than you could believe possible."

Jack could hardly breathe. This was so much more than he'd ever dared to hope for. Yes, she'd said the words the other night, and they had certainly crossed a line, but he had been content to believe she'd merely felt guilty. Or that she'd snapped out of it when faced with reality again. He hadn't expected her to come back to him again.

"Lizzie. Are you sure?"

"I am more sure of this than anything else in my entire life."

That was all he needed. Jack pushed away from the desk and stood, coming around to sweep Lizzie into his arms. Their lips met as a roar filled his ears, and he spun in the direction of the bed, intent on finishing what he'd started this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth found herself stripping layers from Jack like she'd done it a hundred times. In truth, she'd probably imagined it that much, if not more. He was making quick work of her clothes as well, though he undoubtedly had much more experience in this arena than she. Somehow, though, that didn't seem to matter to her. She wasn't worried. She just wanted him, and it was impossible to ignore that he wanted her, too. When she'd freed him of his shirt she began peppering his chest with kisses, flicking her tongue out to taste his deeply tanned skin. She felt his breath hitch and smiled to herself. No, she wasn't worried about her lack of experience.

They were now sitting on the bed, both of them naked. Jack held her at arm's length for a moment and she watched as his eyes slowly traveled her body. She felt heat, so much heat, everywhere his eyes touched. That was nothing compared to what was coming, though. He laid her back with the utmost gentleness and promptly started to explore her body with hands and mouth, pausing occasionally to check that she was still okay. She appreciated the care, but he was driving her absolutely mad, and -

"Is this okay?" He asked as he kissed his way down her belly to the tops of her thighs.

"Jack, if you don't stop talking and get on with it, I'll make you regret the day you were born," she growled. He chuckled darkly and hovered over her, eyes glittering.

"Persuade me."

"You're despicable."

"You're a goddess."

"Goddess? There is nothing holy happening in this room." Her tone was one of amusement, and she gazed at him with heavy eyes, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Just you wait, dearie. I'll redefine holy for you." With that, he dipped his head and showed her the meaning of worship.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Hi! Plz may I request smth super smutty and likely weird with the Valeska twins and a dom reader? (Hell, make it poly if you want!😏😉 if not, separate is also fine🥰 ) I just love the thought of those two getting fucked senseless, they'd be so pretty 😘 maybe including but by no means limited to: pegging, slight mommy kink, edging, over stim, bondage... etc... and followed up by some really fluffy aftercare 🥰

As for a song, my brain keeps going back to Mz. Hyde by Halestorm. So that, I guess!

‘MZ. HYDE,

-GOTHAM!VALESKA TWINS X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; The Valeska twins meet their match ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!valeska twins x female reader. SMUT!!! wrote hcs ahh!! FemDom!reader, readers a brat tamer. THREESOME!! Bondage, pegging, overstimulation, mommy kink, and more!!! some incestous undertones on jerome’s part but not really. I love dom!reader sm <3 ty for this request gave me a random burst of motivation. Fluffy aftercare ofc <3 our boys need love !!! after getting their brains fucked out

♫ “I will gently violate your mind, before I tuck you in / my poison is your remedy.” Mz. Hyde by Halestorm

⋆ Taming these boys is hard, but boy is it worth it.

⋆ First and foremost, how you ever managed to get them to share you is a miracle. But, reader, you have the both of them wrapped around your finger.

⋆ They are both completely two different types of subs, but both brats in different ways. Jerome especially.

⋆ Starting off with Jerome, he practically feeds off everything you say. He vies for your attention so desperately, and your degradtion; for both him and his brother alike. Every word you say, he’s hanging off of. He’s so desperate to be punished, it’s hard to resist.

⋆ Jerome is definitely a lot more teasing. He’ll stretch out on the kingsized mattress in all his glory, preening like a cat, ready to be taken. His eyes light up in a crazed expectation, excitement filling him. His cock is throbbing at your words. Every single “You’re a sick fucking animal.” You utter to him while he writhes below you, he loves. He gets drunk on being degraded.

⋆ Speaking of which, he wants to be fucked like an animal in heat. If you two are fucking, he’ll want to grab your hips, whining loudly, trying to control your movements. You’ll have to slap his hands away, and he’ll pout and growl. If you’re pegging him, he’s grinning and giggling like a maniac, trying to spew out vague jokes and insults, only for you to shut him up with each thrust. When you hit that sweet spot inside of him, his eyes are rolling back, and he’s pausing in his speech- faltering under your touch.

⋆ He also loves watching you peg his brother; it’s thrilling for him to see his typically always-in-control brother who typically ruins his fun be shut up for once and just take it. He’ll laugh and point as he watches, 100% getting off on the degradation of his brother.

⋆ “How’s it feel, brother?” Jerome is taunting, palming his cock in his hand, making fun of Jeremiah. Jeremiah isn’t pleased in the slightest, but it’s hard to snarl something back when he’s getting his hole fucked deep and senseless.

⋆ I’ve mentioned before, Jerome never shuts up. So you’ll have to make him. Make that ginger CHOKE on your strap-on, shoving it down his throat. Watch him wildly gag and look up at you with big almost innocent eyes. His spit will dribble down onto the make-shift cock, making a sloppy mess of his mouth.

⋆ Jeremiah is much more composed, but also gets a kick out of finally seeing his brother shut the fuck up for once in his life.

⋆ Unlike Jerome, Jeremiah is much more hesitant to be dominated, pegged, or tied up. He’s a bit of a narcotic control freak- he’s spent his whole life trying to be in control, so it’s harder to get him to cave.

⋆ You’ll have to be more methodical in your approach. It will take awhile for him to to want to be pegged, so you start small- with slow and sopping blowjobs, feeling him trying to thread his hands through your hair. Everytime he reaches out for you, you’ll remove your lips from his cock, and his lip will curl with annoyance. At first he’ll be angry, constantly trying to give you commands, but it’s useless unless he wants to cum. By the end of it, you’ll have the man begging for your mouth back on his member, through raw tears from being edged hours on end.

⋆ Jeremiah will beg, and that level of submission will break him. From then on, he’ll trust you more, and realize his brother might be right- it is fun to let go. From then on, the two of them will practically worship you.

⋆ They are both big fans of being overstimulated. Jerome will be whining, rolling his head and eyes back, tongue out his mouth. You’ll watch his chest heave with each stroke, sticky cum staining your hand and sheets. Restraints holding him firmly in place. Jeremiah will be murmuring senseless pleads for you to stop, but when he cums over and over, he can hardly complain. He will thrust up into your hand, trying desperately to pull against the ropes around his wrists and legs.

⋆ Jerome has more of a mommy kink then Jeremiah does; and it’s a sore subject for him. It slips out randomly during one of your sexcapades, and Jeremiah will look at him incredulously before laughing. It’s his turn to taunt Jerome now. THIS will get under Jerome’s skin, and he’ll go red in the face, lip trembling while he struggles not to cum right then and there from the sheer humilation.

⋆ In terms of aftercare, PLEASE take care of these boys. Jerome will be overtly clingy, and Jeremiah overtly embarrassed. Jeremiah will insist he takes a shower first, and Jerome will be glad to have your sole attention in the mean time.

⋆ Both of them aren’t used to being taken care of. And both of them feel infinitely grateful. When I say they would do anything for you, I mean anything. Que Jeremiah watching you clean him up, looking at you like your the only pure thing in the world from lidded eyes. Jerome is equally as intrigued, never being treated with a soft touch before you.

⋆ Expect playful banter by the time you clean them up, mostly from Jerome. You’ll be cuddled up together in the sheets, Jerome’s head laying on your thighs, and Jeremiah’s head laid between your breasts.

⋆ “So…Y/N, which one of us has the bigger dick?”

⋆ “You two are literally identical, Jerome.”

⋆ “She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s obviously me.” Jeremiah will snidely chime, small smirk on his face.

⋆ The sibling rivalry continues to persist, Jerome sticking his tongue out at him and blowing a raspberry on your thighs, which tickles.

⋆ Like I said, you have these two boys wrapped around your finger.

[eds6ngel]

may i request some sweet robin x reader smut? like robin just got off work at the video store and she’s rlly shy n needy for her gf?? 🥵

desperate little thing ᝰ.ᥫ᭡。

robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: robin comes home from work to what you think is tiredness, but her movements against your body paint an entirely new picture…

warnings: SMUT!! fem!reader. kissing. fingering. oral (robin receives.) praise and dirty talk. r loves boobs and vaginas (as do i.) mentions of consent. use of pet names (baby girl, baby, honey, hun, sweetheart.) swearing. mentions of homophobia. implied lesbian!reader, but vague enough for any sapphics to enjoy !! established relationship. mentions of food. some fluff and comfort at the beginning and end. [1.7k.]

a/n: thank you for the request, sweetheart!! made this into my lil domestic smutty sapphic dream. hope you enjoy !! ♡

Dinner on the stove. Robin on her way home. Everything perfect for a relaxing night in as a couple.

You and Robin had recently bought an apartment together, residing just thirty minutes away from Hawkins. It was convenient enough to get out of the homophobic town and closer to the accepting lesbian spaces of the city, but still close enough to Family Video, as well as Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and the rest of your friends and family.

With your hand stirring the pasta, the sound of a key turning alerts you from your concentration, knowing that only one other person in your life would be entering at this very second.

“Smells good, sweetheart,” her voice comes softly through the hallway, keys being thrown into the dish by the door, her body slowly pattering towards the direction of yourself.

“Thanks, honey. Trying some pesto tonight. Haven’t made it in a while,” you reply back, her presence becoming closer before eventually two slender arms wrap around your waist, the feeling of brown locks tickling your neck, a soft cheek pressed into your shoulder.

“God, baby, you look exhausted,” you chuckle, feeling her relax into your body, a faint hum leaving her mouth.

However, what you soon discover is that she isn’t tired at all. Her body was already entirely pressed against you, but the slow movement of her clit against your ass has you reeling in the fact that maybe it was a different emotion entirely…

“You okay back there, baby?” you ask, trying to get her to admit to her neediness.

“Yeah… Just…”

Robin always became slightly shy when she was desperate, afraid to ask for what she needed. Despite you both being switches, she never wanted to cross any boundaries. It was sweet to you, always having to remind her that if you didn’t want to do something, you would simply verbalise it.

“Just what, hun?”

“Just… want you. S’been a long day.”

That’s what you needed her to admit. Your hand comes down to the knob, turning it so the stove was off, the pasta water quickly losing its bubbles.

You grab her wrists from where they are perched on your stomach, spinning around and pressing a light-feathered kiss on the top of each of them.

“Yeah? Pretty girl just wants to sit back and let me help her relax? Is that it?” you say in between the fluttering of your lashes, hands moving from her wrists, to her arms, all the way up to her two pink-tainted cheeks.

“Please, baby. Just want you. Do whatever you want.”

You bite your lip with a smile, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw and murmuring, “No, baby. This is about you, ‘kay? Tell me what you need.”

Robin gulps, never liking to admit to her own needs and desires. She was a giver at heart and always followed your lead whenever you needed it. It was very uncommon for her to put herself first, but tonight… she may just have to do that.

“Need your hands on me, please…”

You chuckle lowly, licking your lips, “Where to, honey?” Teasing her, you begin to trace over every area that made her squirm, “This gorgeous neck of yours? Or maybe… your perfect boobs, all for me. Or…” you cup her mound, “Is it here?”

Robin lets a whine escape her mouth at the feeling of your bare hand against her clothed pussy.

“Oh, right here, sweetheart? I can feel it, too. Feel how wet you are through these pants.”

“Please, baby. I will do anything, just—”

This is the kind of behaviour you wanted from her. Needy to the max. “Nuh uh, none of that, baby. You had a tough day and I’ll take care of you however you need, okay? All I need you to do is strip for me and sit that cute ass on the counter.”

Robin follows your orders, ridding of her restrictive Family Video attire, meanwhile, you remove your flowery apron.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me. So pretty. So gorgeous.”

Your hands instantly land on your favourite girls, needing them between your hands, flicking her nipples between your thumbs. You spend every minute worshipping every inch of her skin, drawing every moan and whine you can from her. There was something so magical, so alluring and arousing, about hearing your girl succumb to your words and actions. How some people found the art of treasuring and pleasing their girl to be boring and unattractive forever confused you. How could the pure action of worshipping your favourite person’s entire existence be a drag?

You finally come to her beautiful pussy. What a sight to see. She was an outie, which you relished in. There was something so gorgeous about them, about hers specifically, that made you thank whatever God or star that exists for her presence in your life.

“You ready for my fingers, baby? Think you’re wet enough for two, don’t you?”

Robin’s eyes are closed, her head already floating amongst the clouds, simple nods and rambles “Yeah, yeah. Two is good, perfect even. You’re perfect. Always perfect.”

You chuckle, pressing a light kiss to her clit, her hips bucking at the feeling, “You’re perfect too, baby.”

Sucking your two fingers between your lips, you dip them down before slowly pushing them inside of Robin, her thighs raising up towards your head, caging you in, perfect for you to eventually add your mouth to.

“Fuck, honey, y-yes. Just like that, baby girl. S-Shit, just like that.”

The squelching of her pussy against your slick fingers, combined with her praise and gorgeous moans had you subconsciously increasing the pace. You look up at her with innocent eyes, before slowly lowering your head down to her clit, lapping at her juices. Robin instantaneously throws her head back, eyes fluttering shut as she tries her best not to rut against your mouth.

You could feel her pussy gush more and more of her slick around your fingers, your mind spiralling with the fact that all it took was you doing a household chore, a basic human need, for her to get this damn worked up for you. For her to be sat atop the kitchen counter in your newly shared apartment, high-pitched whines echoing against the four walls, probably vibrating through the floorboards below, all because of your tender and loving care. The transfer from sweet to sensual sending shock waves to your own vagina.

Robin’s hands are scrunched up in balls amongst your messy hair, sweat transferring onto your cheeks from where her thighs are suffocating you, to which you have no complaint, of course.

Her praise and general explicit words are a bunch of babbles, your focus too much on the movement of your fingers dragging against her velvet walls, sucking you back in each time you tried to leave, and the flick of your tongue in both upwards and sideways motions on her clit.

You wrapped your entire lips around her bud, sucking it harshly, her hips instantly bucking in a now speedy motion, her urge no longer being able to be held back. Your movements were fast, harsh, Robin having no care about anything else in the world except for you. If she died right now and went to Heaven, or simply nothingness, she wouldn’t care. Whatever situation, it was for sure the best way to go.

With the extra brash movements, your fingers start struggling to move, Robin’s walls tightening around them, her orgasm approaching with the increased sweetness hitting your tongue and the beautiful noises of gasping breaths infiltrating your ears.

“G-Gonna cum soon. S-So, close. So, so close, honey.”

Knowing that your next action would tip her over the edge, you break eye contact with the beautiful girl in front of you to shake your head back and forth against her clit, lips suctioned around her as you feel her thighs crush you against her vulva.

“F-Fuck, I-I’m cumming. Holy shit, I’m cumming,” is what you make out of her breathy gasps and sweet moans, mouth open in a wide ‘O’ and eyes shut tightly as her entire body shakes against you. The grip of her hand against your hair tightens to the max as she rides out her high, hips rutting in small thrusts against your lips, your fingers slowing to a steady pace as to not overstimulate her.

Once her body stops shaking, you bring your fingers to a halt, Robin’s cheeks rosy and hair messy as she lets out steady deep breaths, catching herself back to normality.

“Less stressed now, Robbie?” you sweetly ask, lips parting from her clit. Robin opens her eyes to the wonderful sight of her slick dripping down your chin, more being added to the inside of your mouth as you suck your fingers clean.

“Yeah,” she pants out, “Feel so much better. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

You cup her face, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before parting and stroking her cheeks, looking her in the eye, “You’re too sweet, honey. Just wanted to take care of you when you needed it.”

You almost melt with the amount of love and appreciation present in her eyes, her blue orbs sparkling with affection and adoration for your presence in this exact moment.

“I love you,” she whispers out, almost giggling like a schoolgirl in the waves of her afterglow, to which you had to admit was a different kind of gorgeous sight to witness on a multiple weekly basis.

“I love you too,” you reply, placing a kiss to her forehead, “How about I finish plating up this pasta for you and then we can cuddle and stick on a movie?”

“Ooh yeah! I love that!” she brightens up, “I actually brought a new one home today. It’s called ‘Desert Hearts.’ It’s actually a lesbian rom-com, which I was shocked to find as it’s basically perfect for us—”

You chuckle to yourself, heading back towards the stove to heat up the pasta once again. This was the Robin you came to love, that you wanted to see in every living moment, and you were glad you were able to get her back to her rambling, talkative self in such a small amount of time.

taglist: @agxxb

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I’m so happy you’re up for writing for WTTW! It’s one of my all time faves, can’t believe it’s been a year?!

Please could I request a cute little blurb set during the drive back maybe? Something cute and loved up and maybe a little smutty (for the sluts) (aka me)

Or anything else from this AU you feel like writing!

🥰

18+

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over.”

You were on a road outside of a town in Utah, Carmel and the ocean long left behind. It was almost dusk, that golden kind of light draping over the canyons, making the desert landscape look pink, like a dream. Everything was cotton candy, soft and sweet, including the boy driving.

“D’you need to pee or something?” Steve asked and he peered down at the map that was thrown across your legs. “There should be a gas station somewhere along here if—”

“Or something,” you replied, your answer vague enough to have Steve frowning but he was already pulling off of the road, pink and red dust kicking up from the wheels.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok— oh.” He realised what was happening when you arched up, hips lifting from the seat, just enough for you to hook your fingers into the sides of your underwear and peel them down from underneath your dress. “Oh my god, okay, yeah.”

His belt was unbuckled instantly, a comical quickness to his actions, the buckle hitting the door panel with a thud and he was sliding the divers seat back quicker than he could keep up with, his other hand hitting the horn.

It was all laughter into mouths, pretty, sweet, urgent kisses over the stick shift and Steve wasn’t shy about urging you into his lap. He kissed you until you were breathless, until the sky went from pink to lavender and the clouds in the distance rolled a little closer. It wasn’t a busy road per se, definitely sleepy at this hour but headlights flashed over your both as an old truck blurred past and it just made everything a little more exciting.

Steve was making the nicest noises, needy gasps and groans as you rocked over him, his jeans unbuckled just enough to free his cock and he threw his head back at the feel of how wet you were, letting you nip and lick at his throat, his jaw.

And when he got close and the stars started to blink from between the rock formations, Steve gripped your hip with one hand and urged you to ride him faster, the windows wet with condensation, the car rocking in the most obvious way. He used his free hand to slip down the straps of your dress from your shoulders, tugged the flowery material down over your tits until you were wearing it around the middle of your waist like a belt.

You were so on show it was obscene.

“I’m close,” you moaned and Steve just thrust up to keep you, cock sliding in and out with slick sounds.

You grabbed at his hair, tugging, gazing down at him with hazy eyes. He was tanned, sunkissed and freckles with his lips pink and parted for you, staring right back with pupils blown wide.

“Christ, you’re so pretty,” he murmured and his voice was gone, wrecked. “Gonna come for me? Just for me?”

You nodded, gasping, pulling at his hair until he groaned and took over, holding your hips still so he could fuck up into you until you came, clenching down on him.

And if that happened in every place you stopped on the way home, well. That wasn’t a vacation story you needed to share with friends.

[thefangirlfever]

The bet (a Logan/ Wolverine imagine), 18+

Note: This is not exactly the smut I promised you but rather a small idea I really wanted to write down. It's more suggestive than smutty but I still put a 18+ trigger warning and I'm still working in the real stuff. Enjoy!

Tags: M/F, suggestive, PIV sex, mention of cunnilingus, mention of drinking and smoking, written at 4 am.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

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

He doesn't remember exactly how it began, who started this but he dure was enjoying himself. She had caught his eyes as soon as he entered the bar. She was leaning nonchalantly against the counter top, a vague air of boredom on her features. A slightly crooked nose, a small foraged covered by outdated bangs, a mole under one of her charcoal eyes...She could almost blend into the decor if not for her hair. A luscious mane of red hair, as vibrant and deep as a sunset. Of course he immediately felt drawn to her, the shade reminding her of someone else, someone he should forget...

He just had the time to move to the bar to compose himself and chase those thoughts away. He wasn't even thinking straight as they started a conversation. She nay have been the one to offer him a drink first. Maybe he asked her if it was her natural color. The red was so vibrant it had to be a dye. Maybe she made a joke about sideburns were outdated. Maybe they shared a lighter, him for one of his cheap cigars and her for a Camel. Thin and elegant, like her. The scent of the smoke had clung to her skin, to her hair... She almost looked like a ghost among all this smoke, as if she was going to dissolve and disappear into thin air. This made him want to hold her back.

He told her he didn't know how to dance. But he was unable to resist a bet amd that's how he found himself following him to the dance floor. Her green dress hugged her swaying body and for a moment she looked like the stem of a flower swinging in the wind, her hair like bright petals. That's exactly when he knew he was tipsy. Comparing a woman, he was way past that.

His hands stayed on her hips as they danced and even as they walked to the room. He didn't know much about her after a few hours except that he wanted to get her out of that dress. It didn't bother him. After all he also had his secrets...

The sight of her red hair fanning over the sheets was breathtaking and almost made him stop as he hovered above her. His warm breath, heavy with the whiskey he had, caressed her skin and he watched with a male satisfaction all her body react from head to toe. She did smell like her cigarettes, except between her legs. There, the scent was like nothing he had ever smelled. It was heady, tangy and too sweet for him to let go.

With his face buried in her hair, his thrusts had become stronger, more forceful. Each sound he coaxed out of her made him feel dizzy. He still had her taste on his lips when he came, when he kissed her... His hands played with her hair, making the soft tendrils flow between his fingers like water. To his surprise, she didn't ask to leave after the sex. She simply leaned into his arms and lit up a cigarette while he played with her hair. They didn't even talk. They just basked in this comfortable silence. She was just as touch-starved as him.

When he woke up the next day, she was no longer here. He couldn't blame her for not staying. Then, why was he looking at the empty space on the bed like that? Why was he running his hand over the mattress like some lovestruck fool? He scoffed and tossed around before massaging his temples. He was getting too old...

Of course, he couldn't have chosen a worse day to be late. And of course he couldn't snuck into the school without someone seeing him. Scott was nice enough to not make a scene when he got his motorcycle back. Probably that the face of the older man told him everything he needed to know. This wasn't the moment to mess with him.

When they finally reached the office of the Professor to meet the new teacher, Logan was convinced this day couldn't get any worse. The whole meeting was as boring as one could be. At some point his eyes drifted over the woman. She was almost invisible, so easy to forget about as she mainly stood silent, all dressed in black like some of the moody teenagers they had at the school. But this time, his eyes lingered on her face, especially those deep charcoal eyes with a mole underneath one of them. She blinked in his direction and he saw a flash of recognition on her face. She knew.

She didn't have her red hair anymore. Instead she had short, shaggy strands of black hair as if she just rolled out of bed pointing in every direction. So, red wasn't her true color. But was this appearance even her real one ? At least, he knew what her real eyes would look like, two stormy skies before the rain when the clouds gather in an angry mob. The more he looked at her, the more he wondered how he could have thought she was invisible. A multitude of small features he hadn't noticed at first appeared at him as he observed her. His thoughts drifted away as he wondered if she still had that mark he saw the night before, that little moon-shaped birthmark on the inside of her thigh...

Once the meeting was over, he watched her leave for her quarters. Her eyes only left him once she had reached the door, almost a quiet invitation to follow her. And if there was one thing Logan couldn't resist,it was a bet.

[archangeldyke-all]

flirty transfem reader anon here! Uhhh you basically fuckin' nailed the concept, and presented the Lesbian Transfem Anxiety™ really well. I was neutral on whether or not it went smutty when I sent the first ask, and I really like how sweet and soft the ending was. That said, if you were inclined to write a smutty part 2, I'd absolutely love to see it. :3

i'm so so glad u liked it!! let's do some soft, sweet smut to match the vibe of part 1 :)

disclaimer! i'm cis, so please lmk if there's any mistakes or missteps, and i'll fix 'em asap!! (i wasn't sure how u wanted me to refer to reader's genitals, i know some girls like calling their dick a clit, some girls like calling it a cock-- so i just tried my best to keep it vague to avoid triggering any dysphoria <3)

men and minors dni

"h-have you ever..." you trail off, and sevika smirks down at you.

she's always able to read your mind, whether you like it or not. right now, you're pretty sure you don't like it, because she's wiggling her eyebrows at you as she waits for you to finish your words. "have i ever what?" she asks, smiling cockily.

"fuck you." you groan. sevika giggles. "have you ever been with a trans girl before?" you ask.

sevika nods. "a few." she says.

a strange combination of jealousy and arousal swirl in your stomach. you know that sevika's far more experienced than you, it's just... "don't talk about other girls when you're in bed with me." you pout.

sevika bursts into laughter. "you asked!" she cackles. you break into a slow smile as you watch her giggle. "speaking of... did you have any reason for asking or...?"

you huff. you did have a reason for asking, and she knows it.

tonight... something's shifted. you and sevika have been dating steadily since she that night on your couch, but you haven't had sex yet, and tonight...

tonight, you want that to change.

you've worn your sexiest outfit, styled your hair meticulously, and showered thoroughly. you're ready.

sevika, of course, can tell. which is why she's being such a giggly, cocky, shithead.

you adore her.

"i wanted to know if you know what you're doing."

"oh, baby." sevika grins. "i know what i'm doing." she promises.

you laugh a bit, and pinch her ass. "fuck off."

"i'm serious." she says, her smile growing impossibly wider. "want me to prove it to you?" she asks.

your stomach flutters and you gulp. "fuck, yes." you whisper.

sevika's kissing you before you can finish your sentence. "tell me what you like." she demands, kissing a path down your neck.

you shiver, giggling a little. "you." you whisper. she snorts.

"and here i thought you loved me." she mumbles. you tug your hair and roll your eyes, smiling at her giggle.

"just... do what you always do." you say, wrapping your legs around her hips. sevika smirks. "i'll tell you what i like."

"yeah?" she asks. her eyes have grown dark. you gulp.

"yeah." you whisper.

sevika smiles sweetly at you. "i love you." she says.

you smile, relaxing into the mattress below you at her words. "i love you too, sevika."

she strips you both in a flash, kissing every square inch of your skin as she reveals it to herself. when you're naked beneath her, she sighs dreamily.

"fuckin' beautiful." she whispers under her breath. you don't think you're meant to hear it, but you do, and it makes you shiver.

sevika ducks down, hovering over you. "are you cold?" she whispers, concerned.

"kiss me." you demand.

sevika's concern melts, and she lowers herself down ontop of you, wrapping her arms around you, kissing a path from your lips to your chin, and down your throat.

she stops at your tits, kissing each of your nipples, giggling at the way you whine before kissing further down your stomach.

at the top of your happy trail, she sighs, nuzzling your tummy with her nose. "been wantin' to taste you for so long, baby." she whispers, pushing your legs apart to make room for her. "fuck-- i'm so addicted to you. when we make out, i spend hours after just lickin' my lips and tryin' to remember how your tongue tastes." she whispers against your inner thigh, where she's sucking a hickey.

you whimper, your fingers clutching at the blankets beneath you. sevika giggles and pulls your hands into her hair. "stop fuckin' teasing me." you whine.

"thought we were taking it slow!" she laughs.

you groan and shift your hips a bit, just barely grazing sevika's chin. both of you freeze, and then: sevika pounces.

she licks a long stripe up you, taint to tip, laughing at the way you absolutely squeal. "sevika!" you cry.

"i'm guessing that's a good reaction?" she teases.

"shut up!" you whine.

"happily." sevika says, shooting you a wink before she ducks back down to start sloppily making out with you.

and she's sloppy. moaning, licking, sucking, and spitting all over you, nuzzling against you with her whole face before taking you in her mouth and moaning around you.

and just when you think you're going to be the first woman to die of arousal-- sevika ducks down and starts licking at your hole.

"oh-- oh!" you gasp. sevika giggles against you, and the vibrations make you whimper.

you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic-- you've never felt pleasure like this before, either. sevika's mouth is wicked, and all the jealousy you had before thinking about her earlier partners quickly evaporates.

if anything, you're thankful. those girls certainly taught sevika what she was doing, and you're the one reaping all the benefits.

plus, you doubt sevika was looking at all those other girls with the same horny, possessive, impossibly adoring sparkle in her eye.

"please--"

"hmm?" sevika moans against you. there's a pool of arousal forming on your stomach, sevika's eyeing it with envy, like she cant decide if she wants the taste of your hole or your cum more.

"sevika, please!" you whine. she presses her tongue gently against your rim, and you're pretty sure you start crying. "please, please, baby, i need it, i love you, sev-- ah!" it's black magic. it has to be. there's no way she could find your p-spot so quickly and precisely without it-- and the way she nails it each time she fucks her tongue in you-- "what the fuck?" you choke out.

sevika sputters a laugh.

you cum harder than you ever have in your life. sevika fucks you through your orgasm with her tongue, and when you collapse against the mattress, she starts licking up the spurts on your stomach with a happy moan.

when she's done, she crawls up your body and settles back on top of you, cuddling against your chest.

"holy shit." you whisper at the ceiling.

sevika giggles, blinking up at you proudly. "told ya." she says.

you snort, and kiss her forehead with an obnoxiously loud and slobbery 'smooch!' when you pull away, sevika's cocky smirk has fallen into a bashful, blushing smile. it melts your heart. she's cool as a cucumber while she's giving you the best orgasm of your life, but a forehead kiss has her stuttering and blushing. "i-i love you."

you grin. "i love you too, baby."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

[projectbluearcadia]

[P2] My Love, I Am Drinking PLeNTy of WAteR

NSFW Lucifer x F!MC Spice Rating - 4/4 HOLY F*CK THAT'S HOT

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

I fully support Luci having a praise kink, full stop. :) @ourfinalisation the food is ready muahaha.

Wordcount: 2470

smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)

“It’s so hot in here,” he complains, still picking at his buttons and undoing them all out of order. It would help if you didn’t keep your fireplace lit all the time, you think as you help him take his vest off. “Mmm… aren’tchu hot too?” 

---

“...yes,” you reply honestly after a moment, almost unconsciously helping him out of his shirt to leave his chest exposed. 

“Then… let’s cuddle naked!” 

Oh good lord… you think, not quite sure how to respond to the innocent way he said that. Neither of you kept your hands off each other when the clothes were gone. But then you’d be taking advantage of a drunk. Though the only reason Lucifer would be upset about you doing that to him is that he wouldn't remember the experience. 

Of course, Lucifer’s jumping full-steam ahead as he takes your shirt off and presses his face into your belly as he hugs your lower abdomen.

“C’mere, MC… stop just standing there holding my mug like a pretty mannequin… Let me love you!” He pulls, and you half-stumble your way to half-sitting on him. He takes the mug from your fingers, sliding it open and taking a drink before he grimaces at you. “That is the most watery coffee I have ever tasted,” he says in the most grave tone of voice that you can’t help yourself from bursting out laughing. “You should be ashamed of yourself, MC; why are you laughing?” 

“You’re already wasted, Lucifer; I’m not giving you caffeine too,” you reply after you recover, belatedly realizing that his hands are shimmying your pants off you. He started this, you think before you unzip him, and, amused, watch him try to take his trousers off with you sitting on one of his thighs. 

“You’re mean,” he says as you laugh again. “You know I’m all…” He makes a vague gesture, and you smile as you obligingly help him undress the rest of the way. You worry your lip lightly as your eyes carelessly absorb him for a moment, half-fantasizing about absolutely wrecking him so that he wakes up embarrassed without even remembering why. No, MC, only if he pushes it. Still… naked cuddles. On his bed. Where we’ve had sex several times.

You don’t even get to the cuddling part because Lucifer had already pulled you on top of him, kissing you. You have the sudden and distinct suspicion that the conniving little shit had been actually planning to make love to you since the moment he came home. Yeah… come to think of it, the way he looked at you at the door was pretty close to his “I want to fuck you so bad right now” face. 

“MC… I wish you were always here,” he mumbles before he kisses up and down your neck. “Every time I think of you, I want to hug you, and then I get hard thinking about you, and then I feel bad when you’re not even there…” 

“I can’t be in here perpetually,” you joke, though he obviously takes it seriously. 

“You could if I tied you down,” he grumbles, nibbling on your collar. “Then I could do anything I want whenever I want.” He pauses before he groans and butts his head softly against your chest. “I’m sorry that I fantasize about that. I’m not an asshole that would use you and do bad things to you and, I just… want more of you…” You pet his head sympathetically, surprised by his consideration. 

“I fantasize about slightly concerning things too, Lucifer.” Some things I wish I had the ovaries to ask you to try with me. “So don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it if it’s a problem.” 

“You're so sweet… what’d I do to deserve you???” Lucifer squeezes you tight to him. “Can I thank you? Can I eat you out?” You decide to throw away how startled you are by the sudden offer. Oral from you? The person who rarely does it unless I (sexually) beg for it? You think I’d say no? 

Saying “yes” would quickly become a regret. But all in good time. 

As it turns out, Lucifer’s drunken stupor meant he was a lot more into making noise during sex, and that included while he was busy thrusting his tongue inside you. Not to mention when he was busy licking the hell out of your clit like it had something sweet and sticky on it. And there he was, flushed and naked between your legs, eagerly taking what seemed like mouthfuls of your slick and heartily groaning like it was his first meal in five years. 

You thought he wasn’t lucid enough to pleasure you with his fingers, which was why it was taking you a little bit of time to cum. Oh, how wrong you are. No, this fucker is playing with you. 

Which is why you’re so surprised when he starts giving both your clitoris and your eager pussy attention, nibbling and sucking and rubbing. Your orgasm at that point is very forthcoming. 

As is the one directly following it. 

“Lucifer,” you gasp, squeezing his hair in your hands. 

“Mmm… I’m not finished drinking my water~” the little shit teases into you, and you’re quickly learning that his desire to see you overstimulated is even more pronounced than usual. 

Which is why it was a mistake. Because you’re now on your fourth orgasm, and he didn’t seem like he was going to stop until he had destroyed your sanity. 

“Lucifer… please… can’t,” you try between gasps, and he kisses your thigh. 

“Just a little more? You’re so good for me; just let me do everything, okay? Just a little more… want you to like it.” He gives you another lick that practically sends stars to your eyes, looking up at you as you try in vain to squeeze your thighs closed. 

“Bad…Lucifer,” you mewl as he keeps giving your clit attention, his long fingers still nursing your ever-tightening insides. He stops, right as you were reaching another peak.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, not seeming to realize the fact that he’s edging you. “I wante’to see your face when your brain has nothing in it but me…” Didn’t you get that out of me the first time!?!?

“Lucifer, I’m already thinking just about you, so please let me finish…” 

“No, not that, I want to see your fucked out face. The way you drool and cry and stop being able to form a sentence.” Fucking hell, he’s remembering that? Now? “But I can’t?” Lucifer makes a face like a kicked puppy, making an x with two fingers, one of which was struggling to separate from a wet membrane attached to the other finger. 

“Goddammit, do whatever you want, just please!” You groan, covering your eyes and feeling your cheeks warm. You can practically feel him brighten as he dives back between your folds. Not long afterwards, your most intense orgasm makes you scream his name while you grip his hair frantically like you’re trying to shove him even closer than he already is. 

Calming down is almost an ordeal as he licks at your convulsing, needy hole that was currently spilling your release like it was water. 

“I think this is better than demonus,” he mumbles, probably to himself, but your ears catch it just fine. You really can’t tell whether he’s referring to your pleasure or messily drinking in your natural lubrication. Is this what he fantasized about without telling you? Getting on his knees and tongue-fucking you so hard that your entire body was left buzzing afterwards? “MC?”

“Wh… What?” you gasp, faintly realizing he’s finally risen from his position on the floor, his lips and the tip of his nose still shining. 

“Love you,” he says sweetly, kissing your lower stomach and almost making you convulse in the process. Especially because the rosy head of his cock is very much visible from between your knees. “Did you like my thank-you? You did, right? I was good, right?” He looks up at you like he wants to be petted, and you just can’t help yourself from fluffing his hair. He leans into your touch, letting out a satisfied, deep hum. You internally promised to tease him later for this. As payback. 

“Yes… you were good.” It seems like your praise just makes his cock stand up even taller, and you feel your insides twitch in response. You have your doubts that he can stay concentrated enough to keep it up, but God, you’re wishing he would. “I never knew you liked it this much whenever I praise you,” you tease him. 

“...maybe I have a kink for it.” Lucifer slurs. “Izzat a bad thing? Can I be a top with a praise kink?” 

“Of course, silly.” You ruffle his hair some more, just messing it up even further. There is certainly a quiet yet powerful satisfaction in knowing you’re the only one allowed to see him like this. To do this to him. “Everyone likes being praised for doing something well. Even you.”

Lucifer giggles a little and says, “How come you’re so wise when you’re less than a hundredth of my age?” 

You have to bite your tongue to avoid calling him an old man and killing his happy mood. He’s already insecure about that no matter how many times you told him that you didn’t care because he (and his brothers) never acted like, thought like, or looked like his age.

“You’re drunk, one, and two, you restrict yourself too much for the sake of your pride, so you don’t use that wonderful brain of yours.” 

“Mmm…” Lucifer kisses you, and for a moment you cringe at the taste of yourself before you get used to it. In another moment, your body is pressing harder into his lavishly soft bed as Lucifer’s hovers over you. “Fucking hell, I love you so much,” he mumbles before he dives back to your lips, the wet sounds of his kisses echoing through your ears. “Want you… Want to put it in… mn… what position do you want? Missionary? Please say missionary.” You must say, Lucifer’s flushed, hopeful expression is a sight to behold as he eagerly waits for your response. 

“Missionary is fine,” you reply with a soft grin as you rubbed his cheek. He pushes into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring it. “Come here.” 

“Cum where?” he asks, blinking at you with a dusting of pink on his ears. “I-I mean, it’s not a problem, I um… I would like that a lot actually…” Lucifer’s blush turns darker. “Wait… shit.” Lucifer buries his hot face in your chest. “...sorry.” 

“What are you apologizing for? That’s a normal mistake in this setting.” 

“No, I’m apologizing for the image that popped into my head.” 

“You don’t have to be shy; you can tell—” 

“MC, please, let this one just… stay in my head. It’s really bad.” 

“...I won’t press you right now because you’re making me impatient, but I’m going to find out later what kind of dirty shit is going through your m—Aghnnn!” 

Lucifer groans into your neck, softly panting as he shoves his last inch into you. He throbs against your walls, and you cling to his sweating back, softly digging your nails in from his size. 

“Don’t ask…” he mumbles, drawing himself out as he traces over your nipples, the pads of his fingers circling the hardening nubs. He snaps his hips forward again, leaving you gasping as stars flicker brightly in your eyes. “But… it made me really excited, so…” 

“Ughn ah…! Ahh!” you moan out, your voice abruptly starting to fail as Lucifer grips a tight hold of your hips and starts slamming himself into you over and over again. Your overstimulated clitoris seems to thrum with static, and it thrums harder when Lucifer presses close to messily kiss your neck. 

“Gh… Every time…” he groans, his voice strained. “Your pussy always sucks me in so hard… Hghn. it makes me feel like… I’ll lose it right away.” And as if he wants to prove himself wrong, he starts going at you faster, leaving you gasping and crying at the ceiling, speechless as you actively claw at his back.

Your clit, alongside the place deep inside you that loves Lucifer's thrusts, are receiving such great stimulation that you can barely say anything. All that comes from you are your incoherent whines and raspy croaks alongside the creaks of the bed and the lewd slurps of your soaking wet hole taking Lucifer in over and over again. 

And then, all movement ceases, leaving you looking up dumbly at his concerned face.

“MC? Are you okay?” he murmurs. “Am I hurting you?” God bless this sensitive dingbat, but fucking hell, why does he always stop at the worst damn time? 

“Hghhn… n…no,” you manage to moan out, your vision flickering with how tight your lower abdomen is. You just barely manage to urge him closer, squeezing him with your legs before he throws your ankles over his shoulders, his hands squeezing your thighs as he climbs back up to his earlier pace.

“MC,” Lucifer gasps, dropping his head down to yours, digging his neatly trimmed nails into you as he falters. “MC.” He kisses you again as your nails score scratches into his back that, if anything, just egg him on. “MC, going to… together… please…”

“Yes,” you cry out. “Lucifer…!” With your vision dyed a startlingly brilliant white, your body floating somewhere in the sky, attached only to the electrifying feeling of Lucifer’s body against yours, you’re left to soak it in while you try to get your bearings back. 

It’s as you’re calming down that you realize Lucifer is drowsily wrapping his arms around you, squeezing your sweaty bodies together in the center of his bed. He snuggles you, getting himself comfortable as he whispers half-broken sweet nothings in your ear. Just a moment later, and he falls sound asleep, his soft breathing falling on your flushed skin. 

“Well… I guess the shower can wait,” you croak as you nuzzle him, your own drowsiness sweeping over you in the warmth of Lucifer’s embrace. Not a bad reward for looking after his brothers while he’s gone… I can’t wait… to see his sleepy face in the morning…

Bonus:

Lucifer woke up first about six hours later, painfully hungover and not quite remembering why he was still inside you. Almost everything came back to him however when you explained to him what had happened, and he proceeded to apologize several times, his cheeks flaming red behind his hands. 

You later shared a bath together, Lucifer insisting that he should spoil you for behaving in such a “boorish and absolutely unacceptable manner unbefitting of a responsible demon.” He cleaned you up with meticulous care despite the fact that he was nursing a very stubborn case of morning wood.

[l3viat8an]

nsfw content MDNI (repost)

Some brainrot cuz I could never say no to this!! Side note my fav changes allill the time but Levi's always close to the top XD CW: mostly vague smutty stuff, and talk of sensory deprivation I think that's it really-

Levi just loves holding hands when you two have sex! It feels more intimate~ and feeling you squeeze his hand, when something feels good is so hot-

Speaking of hands~ I know everyone says this But Levi is sooo good with his hands~ don’t tell me he didn't learn a thing or two from all the porn games he's played-

Really, really wants to have sex in cosplay!!

Bonus points if you're ok, doing it in character of his or your favorite anime couple!

Levi maps out all your sweet spots and pleasure points, like he's mapping out the quickest way to win a game! When you cum he wins~

He definitely tries to put your pleasure first, but ends up chasing his own high the second he's inside you~

Sensory Deprivation!!! Levi loves to deprive you of your senses. If you're okay with it-

Levi wants to go all out!

Tying you up so you can't touch, him or yourself, blindfolding and gagging you.

Only leaving you ears, so you can hear his soft praise and his little whines ‘n whimpers of "So hot~" his favorite thing about this is he can just watch all your reaction to everything he's doing to you~!!

[vera-king-hrfl]

Remake of pinned post and updated BG3 Master List.

NSFT, 18+, MINORS DNI

Full AO3 profile.

Finished stories include word count.

The first two are the last ones I wrote when I discovered my all-time favorite OTP, Cal and Ryldinn. Ryldinn is my OC, a drow assassin.

M/M, explicit smut, violence, discussion of past trauma, slight non-con elements in both.

Where Our Demons Hide is the BG3 story told through the experiences of Cal, Ryldinn (Tav), and Astarion. It's quite long and not finished yet, but there isn't much more to go.

Heat of the Night is lighter, sillier, AU story, set in BG with all the characters and magic, etc, but a more 1980s Miami feel. Characters have a set sexuality instead of being pan. This is going to be an ongoing series. Collab with @crowwolf. Special warning for homophobia, slurs, and attempted assault.

Reclaiming Ourselves series takes place mostly after the events of BG3. It's 3 parts and it's a different experience depending on what order you read them in. Told from POV of Cal, Rolan, Zevlor, and Dammon in different bits with some 3rd person as well.

M/M, F/M, lots of smut, heavy angst, hurt/comfort.

Goodnight Kiss is sweet, with a shy bumbling Cal trying to get a girlfriend. 24,057 words.

Comfort in the Dark starts with Zevlor and Rolan, but our bitchy wizard eventually ends up with Dammon. Angsty. 22,217 words.

Who Am I? stars Zevlor with my OC Ilyrana, a high-elven draconic sorcerer. After being rejected by Rolan, the Paladin finally rediscovers the love of his life. 21,902 words.

Master of the Tower stars Rolan with an unnamed, vaguely described afab Tav. It begins in the Last Light Inn and goes a little beyond the game, but I don't discuss game events much; this one is all about them. It's angsty in parts, but also cute, funny and very smutty. The tiefling anatomy lesson seems to be a hit. 31,931 words in 3 parts.

F/M, smut, angst.

After Hell. Zevlor and Dammon hook up and then find themselves a girlfriend. After the events of the game. No real angst or drama, just lots of fun creative sex. 23,811 words in 3 parts.

M/F/M, smut.

How to Fix Your Broken Tiefling. This one is just pure love and adoration for Zevlor from a sweet little afab Tav who just wants to make him happy. 9,526 words.

F/M, smut, loss of virginity.

Quick and Dirty sees Zevlor, jealous and frustrated, coaxing a young, inexperienced afab Tav to... um... relieve his frustrations in the woods. This is dirty old man Zevlor and I enjoyed writing it. 1,699 words.

Dub-con, fellatio.

Fire, Ice and Darkness tells Zevlor’s story the way I think it should have been. It's unfinished, and I don't know if I'm going to do so, but it's not far from the end and if I get enough interest maybe I will. His love interest is my OC Nienna (Same person as Ilyrana, but she's Tav in this one.)

M/F, smut, heavy angst, graphic violence, slight non-con elements.

The New Chosen. Zevlor accepts the Absolute and becomes Her warrior. He then kidnaps Tav, an afab rogue, partly described and not named. This one isn't finished either. Again, I might circle back to it but it's a bit icky to write.

F/M, NON-CON. Like really. Violent and uncomfortable.

The Master's Lessons. Rolan finds out soon after becoming Lorroakan’s apprentice that the wizard has more in mind than teaching him magic. This is technically part of The Master of the Tower, but it's unhooked so people can skip it if it makes them uncomfortable. 5,817 words.

M/M. NON-CON. Not violent, but pretty gross anyway. Drugs and coercion used.

[bardic-inspo]

Midnight Chimes

Chapter Eight: Creature Comforts

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

Next Chapter (Coming Soon!) ✨Full Chapter List ✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter Preview:

“All I want is a bit of fun,” he huffs, exasperated. “Is that so hard to ask?” Good, she thinks. It wouldn’t do her any good to go believing otherwise. To believe that drivel he pours could’ve come from somewhere earnest, instead of some purple-prosed paperback with the spine bent as often as a whore’s. But it could feel good, to be broken in by him like a tome left too-long untouched. To yield to someone else’s touch again. Better to ache with it after, having been opened and known again, than to ache alone. “You mean sex.”

Chapter CW: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. NO LONGER EVENTUAL. 100% CONSENSUAL.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

Naomi wakes from a sleep without dreams to find her feet without shoes.

Stiffness lances through her shoulder blades. Gingerly, she shifts from her propped seat against the tree trunk, frowning at the threadbare blanket she finds tucked around her bare toes. She shivers with the chill that nips her neck, shrugging the blanket closer.

Serves her right for falling asleep in a place so stupid. In such sparse clothing, no less. Her nightgown seems far too sheer in the sunlight.

But then, whoever thought to leave her a blanket should’ve thought more about what one measly bit of cloth would do. Absolutely nothing, in these elements. She’d need a half-dozen more layers, at least, to stave off the cold that creeps in on autumn nights.

Sure, the days are warm enough. But only by the grace of a sun that burns as much as it comforts the cold away. The Underdark has its own volatile elementals and fitful lava fields. But not weather beyond ‘dry’ or ‘damp’. Certain reaches of her homeland are said to be cold, but Naomi’s never known them. For most of her life, she’s only known consistent warmth and heady humidity.

Up here, the air’s thinner. Flexible. Ever changing. 

It’s a change, to be so immersed in it. In her prior travels, any inn she came to would offer room to a bard who would work to earn her keep. They hadn’t heard of her, sure. But then, they heard her with a fiddle and forgot whatever qualms they had about welcoming in a strange drow.

In the company of a snapping hearth, from the safety of a window, Naomi had seen the sky heave and sob. Every time a storm rolled through, the heavens stomped their feet like a wailing babe. Water leaked from the clouds like a wrung sponge. Such a messy, miserable ordeal. Snow, at least, sparkles on the way down. But all in all, she’d rather not be soaked in any such nonsense.

Perhaps her companions would think her sheltered. Pampered. Soft.

But none of them know how to weave through bibberbang without breathing it in. Probably, none of them can tell the difference between torchstalk and timmask. Well, maybe Gale can. But no way can he gut a bulette without wasting any of it. He’d probably still make a halfway decent stew out of it, though.

Naomi never knew the comfort of her own room with a featherbed before she’d known the surface. Astarion isn’t so cushy, and not nearly so warm. But his company was comfort enough, it seems, for Naomi to stumble into sleep.

She clears her throat, glancing sideways, but already knowing the elf must be long gone. She must have him to blame for the blanket. And, apparently, the boots.

Tentatively, Naomi reaches for the shoes left in Astarion’s stead. Her fingertips follow the bright blue stitching on the sides, curling into leather that’s been carefully polished free from age and wear. He didn’t find them like this, she’s sure. 

She’s also sure he’s flighty. Dangerous, when the mood strikes him. More because of his tongue than his teeth. He’d sell her to save his own hide if he had to. If they stood in each other’s shoes, and the Gur had come for her, perhaps she’d be in chains right now.

Maybe Astarion’s never known the comfort of having someone watch his back. That, at least, was something Naomi always had back home. Maybe that’s why she finds herself taking her tentative alliance with the vampire to heart. Or why she’ll indulge in his flirtations, even as he plucks the lowest hanging fruit she’s ever heard. 

She feels sorry for him. The notion squirms in her gut. Oh, he’d loathe that. But he’d love that it’s only half the truth.

The other part is that he’s funny. She laughs at him as much as with him. But, still. When he giggles like a fountain, it’s hard to down the sound with a straight face. 

And he’s beautiful. His lips are sly and snide and smirking, but they’re plush, too. And there’s something about the too-perfect set of his snow-white curls that curls her knuckles here and now. She leans her head back against the tree with a soft sigh. Her mind mills with thoughts of raking her fingers in his hair, while that wicked mouth of his melts against her own.

Perhaps all he’s really out for is blood, and her body is just a consolation prize. But it’s nice to feel wanted. Even in some shallow sense.

Naomi slips into her new shoes with a fleeting smile, flexing to feel they fit just right. A little comfort could go a long way. For her and the vampire both.

Wrapping the blanket tightly around her for some semblance of modesty, if not pride, Naomi tiptoes back into the cave where they’ve made camp. The scent of broth swells to her nose, setting her mouth watering. Gale tends to breakfast. Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach talk in warm tones that blend with the crackle of the cookfire. Naomi ducks behind the tents, keeping to the fringes until she can safely tuck inside her own. If anyone catches a glimpse of her, they have the decency to keep quiet about it.

Naomi keeps her tent neat and orderly; even while staying in the inns, any urge to sprawl recoiled to the memory of her temple matrons scolding her for not keeping tidy enough in her youth. She’d shared a room with so many others, then. It took some time to be able to trance on her own without their soft chorus of breath swimming in her ears. She’d never known, before, that quiet could be so deafening.

And lonely.

Her pack rests near her tousled bedroll. Naomi eyes the tent’s other occupant warily as she rifles for a change of clothes. Alfira’s lute lurks in the corner where the tent’s drapes of blue-gray canvas loop around the pole holding them aloft.

Gale concluded Alfira’s instrument isn’t cursed after all. After that valiant effort, Naomi hadn’t had the heart to tell him she never learned to play the lute even a little. She can return it to the tieflings today, at least.

Cursed. The notion rolls in her mind, restless like a stormcloud. Restless, like the purpling shadows beneath her eyes. Naomi scowls into her tarnished pocket mirror and stuffs it back into her pack. 

She can’t keep on with so little rest. She needs to trance again, properly. Even if it means another meeting with the devil. Devils deal in contracts more than curses. It makes little difference; they’re all C-words, anyways.

Including that hag.

Dirge singer. Death bringer. Though, the hag could’ve called her ‘sunflower’ and made it sound like she murdered a puppy.

“Ouch!”

Naomi flinches sharply. Her hands retract from her pack on instinct. She turns her palms over, but finds no sign of what stung her. And the crawling necromancy stains that darkened her arms the day before have almost faded entirely. 

Thrrrum.

A sudden chord snaps like a rubberband, strummed harsh and fast and then gone. Naomi hisses, ears aching even as she rubs them.

Thrrrrum. THRRRRUM. 

The sound skewers through her skull. Naomi cowers. 

THRUM, thrum-THRUM, THRR--- 

Swallowing hard, heart hammering, Naomi whips her head towards the lute.

It’s just as lifeless as the girl who used to play it.

Birdsong filters through the camp alongside the crackling fire. The sounds are just as smoky sweet as they were before. As if nothing sour interrupted them at all.

Naomi lets out a tight sigh, massaging the fresh lines forming on her forehead. Those few discordant notes, they sounded familiar. For a split second, she thought she could make something of them. A melody, maybe. She can’t think of how it goes. Her jaw clenches as she braids the loose hair around her face back into her bun.

She trades her tunic for her leather armor, even though it still needs tending, and even though their travels today will take them back to the safety of the Grove. They’ve a habit of stumbling into monsters at every turn, after all. She gathers up the borrowed blanket and sets off to return Astarion’s brief affliction with kindness. 

Well, part of it. She’s keeping the shoes.

She finds him pouring over some moldering text. Even squinting, she can’t make out the title on the cracked leather binding. Astarion doesn’t even lift his head as she hovers. She clears her throat pointedly.

“Good morning, darling,” he murmurs, distant. Reluctantly, he peels his eyes from the fresh page he turns to, wearing a practiced smile that grows smug as he soaks in the sight of her. “You’ve gotten your beauty sleep, I see.”

“Thank you,” she says, holding out the blanket to him. “For this.”

Metal clangs behind her. Naomi stiffens. Gale spews curses as he fumbles with the lid of the stew pot. “Oh, for the love of--”

Astarion scowls at the blanket, and then at her, one elegant eyebrow arched.

“And for these,” she adds, shifting her heel so he can admire his own handiwork. The blue stitching arches bright against the dark leather. She finds herself staring, too. And babbling like a brook to fill the weighty silence. “You picked a nice color. Almost makes me think of--”

She stops short, mouth suddenly dry, eyes flitting back to his face to find him surveying her with a sly smile.

“--home,” she finishes quietly.

He wanted it to, she realizes. Astarion knows how to get what he wants. And he wanted her to think of him and home in the same blink, every morning, as she takes her first step into daylight. 

The sun suits you as well as the stars do, darling. 

He wants to be threaded through her head, inextricable, like the steaming waters she waded into as a child, the songs drifting from the temple, the warmth and wet of the Underdark itself. He means to sink teeth into her memories and add his fangs to the ones she treasures.

Naomi swallows thickly. She wouldn’t mind offering her neck for another night. With the dirt rough beneath her. His body pressing, taut, against her own. She wouldn’t mind it at all, now that she knows where all that blood goes.

Raw heat sweeps her skin, just like the kind that furled from the lake she showed him in her memories. Astarion’s gaze slinks over her, sheer and silky. She feels bare beneath it.

Until he utters some chiding, knowing sound, low in the back of his throat. Then, she feels sweaty. Balmy. Grimy. And sheepish. She shifts her weight between her feet.

It’s more likely, maybe, that he just doesn’t want to owe her anything. She’s helping him flourish, after all. Astarion’s not the sort to be dirtied with debts.

“But of course,” the vampire croons. “We need our fearless leader in tip-top shape, after all.”

“Your leader?” She repeats incredulously.

Astarion turns his head one way, then the other, making a show of looking about. It’s all dramatic effect; his pout of confusion easily reverts to his signature smirk a second later. “Do you see anyone else stepping up, darling? When you open those lovely lips, lovely things seem to happen. Either our enemies fall, or they fall in line.  We’re all inclined to let you keep doing it. Besides, it’s been so much fun to watch.”

She’s fully aware her slack-jawed expression only feeds the gleam in his eye. It’s not the lewdness of his implication that catches her off guard, but the pragmatism of it. The faith in her that he and the others apparently share. 

The goblins were easy to bring to heel; they nearly bent over backwards at the mere sight of a drow, anyway. But even after the incident with Alfira, and her escapade with the hag…her companions still want her to take the reins.

Naomi’s stomach knots. They’ve seen her use her tongue like a whip or a chain, and somewhere along the way, without her even bidding them too, they decided to fall in line as well.

Dimly, she hears Gale falling over his own feet somewhere behind them. Or, maybe he’s choking. Hard to make heads or tails of that strangled, scuffling sound. When she half-turns her cheek, the wizard’s face is ripened red, but he seems no worse for wear. Astarion takes her attention again. 

“And if the shoes fit,” Astarion hums merrily, “well, it’s really all decided then. I do have more of that thread. But it would be better suited if you dyed those leathers we took from that dead drow, first. I imagine they’ll fit you perfectly.”

There wouldn’t be much left to the imagination at all, if she wore what little clothing he spoke of. Much as she might loathe everything else to come from Menzoberranzan, begrudgingly, she knows the garb would look good on her. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says evenly, forcing the blanket firmly into his grip.

His lips twitch, but he takes it, cradling his book carefully in one hand, while holding the blanket at arm’s length in the other. He stalks off with it pinched between his fingers, held at bay from his body as if it were sopping. Gale lets out another strained noise that sounds suspiciously like a screaming kettle.

“Are you…all right?” She asks him, eying his unkempt hair. His knuckles must’ve worried it into disarray. The stew bubbles fitfully beneath the wizard’s furrowed brow.

“I am simply stupendous,” he promises, but it sounds pitchy. “Never better!”

The grove opens to them readily, with praise and thanks heaped like confetti upon their heads as they pass the tieflings’ caravan. Wyll and Karlach drink in the accolades, doling out kindness in equal measure, as if serving up helpings of Gale’s nightly stew. The wizard himself struts a little taller as he basks in their gratitude. Even Shadowheart seems moved to the slightest smile -- one she might actually admit to, if pressed.

Astarion’s mouth morphs between a smirk and a sneer. One moment, he hovers near Naomi’s shoulder. The next, she turns to find he’s tucked tail, lurking near the rear of the party like a cat that keeps circling but won’t quite settle.

Naomi finds a stature fitting of a hero-by-happenstance, accepting Zevlor’s coin and offer of camaraderie with the right words and the right thanks. The kind a good person might give, with the kind of performance that a good person might believe. It earns her a sideways glance from Shadowheart and Astarion both.

Naomi doesn’t shy from their scrutiny. They’re the same in this, she’s sure. At least, she’s not so sure she would have spared the effort on the tieflings’ behalf, if the search for a cure steered them elsewhere.

The real prize is a spoiled fruit; Halsin doesn’t have the cure they’d dared to hope for. But he has information. And he makes good on his promise to share it. The burly elf waves a hand in greeting as they approach him at the heart of the Grove.

“I hear there’s to be a celebration this evening,” Halsin says. “Well-deserved, after all your efforts. I hope you relish the chance at revelry. It may be some time before you’re afforded another such night. There is much to be done. And I promised I would help you however I could.”

“You did,” Naomi replies, leaning back to survey the rather sturdy length of him. “We'll make our plans now so we can make merry later.”

“I’m certain a cure for you can be found at Moonrise Towers,” the druid asserts, “but it’s…complicated. The journey, specifically -- it’s extremely perilous. Though, it seems you’re well-accustomed to navigating danger. To get to the Towers, you’ll need to pass through a terrible place -- a cursed place.”

Naomi stifles a sigh. There’s that ‘C’ word again. Cropping up like a stubborn weed. What else did she expect, really?

Halsin tells them of the shadow curse shrouding Moonrise and the surrounding region in darkness and decay. When Naomi wonders aloud how the Absolute’s forces could withstand such conditions, the druid doesn’t have an answer.

“Perhaps it’s the tadpoles,” Astarion muses airily. “Our wriggling friends might shield us from the curse entirely.”

“Only the Absolute’s elites have them,” Gale says with a shake of his head. “Their foot soldiers don’t. They’d need another method to move en masse.”

“You could go overland, along the Risen Road or through the mountains,” Halsin suggests. “But you’ll run into the shadow curse eventually. You could also go under. There is a tunnel in the ruined temple of Selune. It leads to Moonrise Towers through the Underdark.”

Naomi doesn’t meet any of the eyes that snap, at once, to her. She fixes her gaze, instead, to the scenery just past Halsin’s broad shoulders. Even without the tadpole, she knows they all share the same thought.

Wyll gives voice to the question hanging over them. “Is there any chance such a route might carry us near your home? Would you know the way?”

“No,” Naomi answers flatly.

“That’s a shame,” Astarion murmurs beneath his breath, the sound teasing like a breeze near her ear. “Truly. I would’ve liked to have seen it in person.”

Naomi stiffens. She feels his presence prickle along her neck again, even though he’s feet away. A memory of his bite. One bite out of her memories, and he thinks he has her story figured.

“You would’ve seen a pile of rubble,” she says without inflection. “That’s all that’s left of it, now. Boulders and bones.”

“A shame,” he says again, gently enough, her jaw softens slightly.

“But I do know the Underdark,” she says, rolling her shoulders back. “I know what we might find down there. How to navigate underground.”

“And if what we’ve heard from some of the tieflings is true,” Shadowheart adds grimly, “there’s Githyanki along the other route. Strong odds they would’ve had our heads even with Lae’zel in tow. Without her, it’s not a wager I’d like to take.”

One unanimous nod of assent from the others, and it’s decided, even before Halsin tells them further of Ketheric Thorm’s fabled fortress. The mention of her goddess lights Shadowheart like a candle. Before their eyes, the devotee of darkness positively glows.

Naomi wonders, ruefully, if the Sharran will have the same demeanor a few weeks into a moss-and-mushroom diet. Perhaps she’ll need to teach them how to gut a bulette, after all.

“Well, go on! Get in there with them!” Karlach blurts, swaying in time to the lively tune brightening the hollow. Her mug of beer sloshes, spilling over with the overzealous shimmy of her hips.

Naomi winces, back turned to the band as the crowd claps to their rhythm. “I was never good at being that sort of bard,” she shouts above the crescendo.

“What, fun at parties?” Karlach scoffs. “What other kind is there?”

“I’m a riot at a funeral.”

Karlach’s back bows as she glugs, streams seeping from her lips. Naomi watches, briefly fascinated, as the beer sizzles on the surface of Karlach’s broiling skin. It steams off of her in a sweet, wheaty aroma.

“It wassss sssbeautiful,” Karlach murmurs, sobering even as she slurs. “What you did for Lae’zel. Even though she despised you. You sing too pretty to stand around and pout about it!”

Naomi smiles, in spite of herself. “And your mug is too empty for you to still be standing around, talking to me.”

“Fine. Fine,” Karlach heaves an overdrawn sigh, stumbling off reluctantly. “But you’d better break out that fiddle they gave you in our next fight. I wanna hear this riot of yours!”

Flickering silhouettes stutter across the orange glow bathing the clearing. Naomi’s left alone again among so many of Zevlor’s caravan, those they saved from certain death at the goblins’ hands. Song rakes the air alongside fluttering flakes of ash and buffeting laughter. 

Naomi watches the festivities like she would a sunrise; they’re a gorgeous spectacle, to be sure. Something she can see, that can wash over her, but she isn’t part of it, even standing here, adrift in the middle of it. 

Alfira should be. 

She hadn’t wanted to accept the fiddle Zevlor had handed to her in exchange for Alfira’s lute. Well, she’d wanted to accept it. Whether she should have is a moot point now. It stays stowed in her tent for tonight. Still, she thinks of it wistfully.

It’s a beautiful, breakable thing. But it fit like a glove, in her grasp, beneath her chin. In a way that so little has.

“Do you ever tire of denying yourself?”

Naomi offers Astarion a sideways glance. The vampire offers her wine, straight from the bottle. Tentatively, Naomi reaches for it. Their knuckles brush against each other on the neck. The touch is gentle, and yet it feels like flint to steel the way it lingers, sparking, in her fingertips.

Astarion’s eyes shine like the glass in the firelight as she lifts it to her lips for a swig. 

The wine is sharp at first, and then it smooths to velvet on her tongue. Rich. Red. And--

“Awful, isn’t it?” Astarion mutters critically while she hands it back. “Vinegar for wine is hardly a fair consolation prize for all of our blood, sweat, and carnage. I think you deserve something sweeter, hm? A taste of what you’ve been staring at. Perhaps we both do.”

Astarion’s gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to her neck. She’s sure he can see the flush of it, even in the darkness, even by firelight.

 “A little…levity,” he whispers, and it sounds like a promise. “I was right, of course. Those leathers do suit you.”

Naomi swallows, abruptly warm even in such sparse clothing. Astarion’s eyes cut the angle the leather does, down between her breasts, to the lacing at her navel. It would only be one step to close the distance between them, yet, that space weighs her ankles; the notion of moving even an inch feels like wading through waist-high water.

“Yes, I’m tired of it,” she says, eyes peeling back to the party around them. Wistfully, she watches the sway of the bards, their fingers flitting over flute and fiddle. “No, I’m not sure I deserve any different.” She takes a shallow breath, forehead creased, discordant worry whittling in the back of her mind. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten something very important.”

“You have, haven’t you?” He says, head tilted. Naomi blinks up at him wordlessly.

“Pleasure, sweet thing,” he shakes his head, pitying. “I could feel it when I was lost in your neck, you know. You’re positively starved for it? Aren’t you?”

Yes, she thinks at once, an ache panging in her chest. Of course I am. She doesn’t--

“You don’t need to say anything. I already know how you feel,” Astarion rasps, daring the inch closer she couldn’t take herself. His slender hand darts out swift as a dagger. 

Naomi tenses for the touch that doesn't come. His fingertips only ghost over the hairline scar slashed across her nose, tracing its path, but never once grazing it. 

“I know what your last lover left you with,” he says. “And I know better, darling.”

The back of his hand curves down with the column of her neck in a could-be caress. Naomi’s throat bobs, and Astarion’s gaze flits to the motion, fixated. All at once, the fireside is sweltering. 

Intoxicating. The scent of him floods her, crisp and spiced even above the smell of the smoking flames. She hadn’t noticed before, even with her head against his shoulder. But one breath closer, one breath away, and it takes her mind away from anything else.

“I feel it too, you know. This…connection between us,” he says beneath the snap of kindling. 

It feels just as frail, this tentative thread winding them closer. So close, she thinks. He’s so close that, for the first time, she can see his chest is perfectly still without a breath pulled through it.

What might it feel like, to be still for a moment? To lay her ear to his ribs and hear nothing at all? Silence without solitude. Sanctuary without…history.

Pleasure, instead of pain.

He’s so close. He’s so hungry, with the wolfish gleam in his eye, and the edge of fangs in his smirk. But it can’t be a tether he longs for. 

“What do you want Astarion?”

His brow twitches before it settles again. “You know,” he purrs, “I’ve been very good, too. Playing the hero of all things. Hmph.”

“That’s not an answer.” Her snicker sours his expression to a scowl.

“All I want is a bit of fun,” he huffs, exasperated. “Is that so hard to ask?”

Good, she thinks. It wouldn’t do her any good to go believing otherwise. To believe that drivel he pours could’ve come from somewhere earnest, instead of some purple-prosed paperback with the spine bent as often as a whore’s.

But it could feel good, to be broken in by him like a tome left too-long untouched. To yield to someone else’s touch again. Better to ache with it after, having been opened and known again, than to ache alone.

“You mean sex,” she says, his slow-spreading smile a mirror of her own.

“The kind you’ll never forget,” Astarion drawls, voice gaining gravel again. “We could steal away once the others are asleep. Take the night for ourselves and forget all this madness. I know where we can find our own little piece of nowhere.”

Astarion’s eyes are crimson as the wine he hands her. His fingers curl cool, around hers, as she takes his offering a second time. The sip tingles on her tongue, brimming with promise.

The vampire wets his lips. “So what do you say, lover?”

Damp grass tamps down beneath her feet. Naomi shivers, free of the fireside’s warmth, and -- she confirms with one last glance over her shoulder -- free from prying eyes. The night’s crisp, cool, and quiet but for the dull croak of creatures who call the brush their home.

Between the bottle brush pines, she glimpses a sky alive with simmering stars. It’s beautiful. Resplendent. She could stare at those heavens for hours, neck craned upward, her chin in her hands.

Naomi comes to the crest of a small incline. The forest thins. There, across tall grasses, leaned lithe against a tree, she sees him. When she blinks again, the moon, the stars, and the faint blush of the astral sea seeping from beyond are all dull, faded things.

“There you are,” Astarion’s whisper is coarse. He presses from the tree. Naomi can’t quell the hitch in her breath. Moonlight slinks with him, liquid silver cloaked over his bare shoulders.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says, closing their distance with long, lazy strides as her own steps cease. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

Pristine, moon-bleached curls frame his face. She knew she’d find that knowing smirk on his lips. But the heady lust in his eyes is tempered with a softness so different from the silky way he speaks and stares. Like sand through her fingers, it feels so fleeting.

“You've been waiting to use that line,” she says, but the barb lacks any sting. “And besides, I know it was murder on your mind that first time we met. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Briefly, his eyes narrow before his expression smooths to match his tone. “Oh darling, all I wanted to do that night was taste you.”

The spiced scent of him swells with her hammering heartbeat. Naomi’s eyes wander, unbidden, to the curve of his lower lip. The barest tips of his fangs dig into the plush of it.

“I think you want to be tasted,” he says with certainty. “I think one bite wasn’t enough.”

“You could be right,” she whispers back, eyes half-lidded.

Gently, he lifts her chin with a pair of his fingers. “I think the night we met could’ve gone something like this.”

The crush of his lips is velvet; his mouth is soft as it catches hers, rougher as he keeps it. She drifts into the kiss, weightless, lost to the slow, deliberate, inevitable way he coaxes her open.

His hand on her hip is a sudden anchor, his fingertips pressing imprints of sweet pressure. She parts for him readily; her legs shift to accommodate the nimble fingers working her free of her laces, her lips allowing his tongue to soothe the ache he made. 

She thinks of those same skilled hands, working open a lock with an expertise that would have earned anyone else calluses. He always pinches the pick so precisely in his grip, the blue veins in his pale wrists flexing with instinct but only the barest effort. With just as much ease, the leathers crumple at her heels and he bears her to the night. 

Abruptly, he parts from her. Naomi pants, chest heaving. As he steps back, she steps forward out of her clothing piled in the dirt. 

Red eyes rake down her body, burning from her neck to her navel like wine down her throat. He dips with fluid motion, doing away with his trousers before he straightens. Her own gaze flits low as anticipation clenches between her legs. Her teeth catch the inside of her cheek, muffling the noise she knows would only grow the girth of his ego.

There’s so very much of him to anticipate.

Strong arms loop around her waist, ending any distance between them with firm pull. She gives to his grip, catching her breath as the chill panes of his chest press cool against her breasts. When his lips have hers again, and his hands weave reckless though her hair, he casts the cold away entirely. At least, she forgets all about it while he’s tugging her hair loose from its bun, and tugging her lower lip between his teeth.

For a moment, she sways dizzy, eyes shut to the world. He’s her gravity. Astarion hitches her legs over his hips, hard grip buried in her ass, and lifts her, spinning her round. 

Her back scrapes rough against the tree bark. It’ll sting in the morning. But his tongue teases at the roof of her mouth and all she can think now is more, more, more.

More of that pleased sound rumbling low in the back of his throat as her hands clutch the nape of his neck. More of that blissful mouth she gasps against. More of his skin smoothing like satin over hers. More of the taste of him taking her mind and emptying it of all else.

Naomi’s fingernails drag tender against his scalp, silver curls threading through her fingers. Astarion tilts his head back into the touch. She takes the opportunity to graze them down the delicate edges of his ears, too, satisfaction stoked by the sound of his ragged snicker.

“Good girl.”

He mutters the praise feather-faint on the heat of her tongue. Any purchase she had falters to the needy, tightening coil of want drawn suddenly taut inside her. As if he said the words to the lips between her thighs instead of those he claims with his own.

Her legs quiver when her feet find the dirt again. Astarion cups her breasts, rolling a pebbled nipple between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. Naomi groans into his open-mouthed kisses, into the exquisite, electric pleasure he plies from her tits. Her heels drag back into the soil, but it's her own needy noises that ground her.

Until the rigid length of him, the only warmth he has, grinds against the meat of her thigh, and her mind blanks but for the answering ache inside her cunt. 

Her footing wavers. She stumbles forward, shoving firm against his hips. Abruptly, Astarion’s eyes fly wide. She smears a kiss and a stifled breath against his collarbone. Then, his grip tightens, and they’re falling together, down into the dirt.

Astarion breaks her landing with a dull huff. Her own snickering snaps the quiet like twigs underfoot. It can’t be helped. And she can’t help but bask in that dazed look he wears as he watches her, laughter and moonlight gleaming in his eyes without a trace of reproach. 

She’s got a perfect view of that gorgeous face, so she can see what it does to that self-assured smirk of his when her trailing hand reaches its destination. Naomi shifts, straddling his thighs, one palm painting over the lean spread of his chest. The other smooths up the side of his leg until she comes to the crux of what she longs for, the inspiration for all the slickness she has waiting for him. Her fingers wrap lithe around his shaft and stroke.

Astarion shudders out a breathy, contented sigh.“I was right about you,” he pants, head lolling back against the ground while his hungry eyes roam her body.

“What’s that?” Naomi asks, her voice saccharine as she tilts her head, the twist of her wrist anything but innocent.

“You are stunning in silver.”

She follows his gaze, turning her attention downward to the curve of her tits, rising with the shape of her own breath in her lungs. Past her collarbone, her dense freckles thin out over the pale twilight shade of her skin, like stars dissolving in daylight. Her lilac-gray pigment fades, too, into ethereal blue by the light of the moon. Every inch of her is alive with it. Even her hair, falling loose and tousled over her shoulders, takes on the shimmer of fresh snowfall.

She swallows, the motion rippling through the flat of her stomach. Last night, Astarion said the daylight suited her. She replied in kind. But tonight, she said to him, you don’t have to pretend with me, and she meant it. He didn’t say it back. Maybe he meant it, anyway. He watches her so intently, now.

Tonight, he says she’s stunning. Tonight, beneath her, he tells the truth. If only for a little while. The daylight suits them fine enough, but they're creatures of the night, the pair of them.

Her breath snags as he sits suddenly upright. The motion shifts her, too. She’s still spread over his lap, but her grip is gone. A cunning smile curls on his mouth. Firm hands press against the small of her back, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his cock. Every slow rock of his hips sends pleasure stuttering through her stomach. Every thrust across her cunt has him more and more slicked with her.

Naomi’s eyelids flutter. He draws a hand through her hair, tugging back with a gentle hold. Nonsensical noise tumbles from her mouth. Her pulse pangs in her throat, bared to his lips.

“And you’re so very eager,” he says, the words tingling against her neck. “Aren’t you?”

She braces for the bite, for the piercing pain that will yield to delectable numbness in a moment’s time. But there’s no trace of his teeth. Instead, his mouth merely drags delicately along the path of his favorite vein, throbbing just beneath the surface of her skin.

“I’m not the only eager one, it seems,” she says in a husk of what her voice used to be.

“Mm,” Astarion rumbles in reply, “we’ve both waited long enough.”

He pushes hard against her shoulders. Naomi’s back thumps against the gritty dirt. Astarion is smooth marble as he crawls across her, knees bracketing her own. On instinct, her hips lift, straining towards his hardened cock looming, glistening, above her cunt. 

He chides her with a click of his tongue. A forceful palm pins her back down beneath him. But her punishment is short-lived. He threads a hand between them, licks his lips, and dips just one finger between her slick folds.

Breath stammers from her lungs. Astarion circles her clit like circling prey. The black look in his eyes is calculated, distant, and pierces straight through her. Like he hardly sees her at all --  only the dirt beneath her body, the ground he could fuck her into, the little deaths he could bury her with. His wrist flexes with the arch in her back. He buries his soaked finger inside her heat. 

And just like that, he has her curled around it. Naomi’s not sure what language keeps leaving her tongue. It’s known to no one but the two of them. It’s filthy as the wet, clicking rhythm of him playing with her cunt. 

He blinks, brow knitting briefly, and the set of his jaw seems to ease. She catches the flash of his fanged smirk behind her slitted lids before he leans forward and laps at her trembling tits. Naomi’s eyes shut tight as the whole of her squeezes with touch of his tongue against her pert nipple. Her cunt clings, needy, around his finger, but she doesn’t have to beg; he slips in a second, granting her that perfect stretch she so desperately seeks.

“Gods--”

The seal of his mouth breaks abruptly with a lewd pop. Naomi jerks from the ground, bucking to the sharp but fleeting reproach of his fangs against her swollen nipple. He leans higher, nosing at the crook of her neck. His breath sends a shiver across her skin as a low growl seeps between his teeth. 

“The gods aren’t the ones giving you this.”

His knuckles crook inside her cunt, and like she’s any other lock, Naomi’s lips open at his whim.

“Ah--Astar--star--”

“Better,” he snickers darkly, “as in ‘surely you can do better’.”

Somewhere in the feverish flurry of her thoughts, she feels a swell of victory, knowing her critique of his charms left such an imprint on him. A second later, he kills her breathless laughter, swiping his tongue against the slanted edge of her ear. Naomi chokes around the sweetest shudder. It’s his name she mangles in her mouth as she comes hard and sudden, spasming around the pair of fingers he used to turn her to putty in his hands.

Astarion eases back, sitting up on his knees and giving her room to prop her chest with her arms. The look in his eyes is a predatory one as he rubs his cunt-slicked fingers across his lips. A long, steaming sigh leaks out of him.

“My bittersweet treat,”  he drawls, “you’re so very flushed for me.”

“Can’t I treat you, too?” Naomi asks, lashes low as she leans her head to the side, an open invitation to her open neck. Her fingertips trail over the stretch of it, skimming the flare of her collarbone down to the swell of her breast and teasing at the nipple he’d toyed with before.

Surprise floods his face, stoking the grin on hers. It’s too perfect. He’s too perfect. His carefully coiffed hair is riled into picturesque disarray, his eyes rounded wide. He recovers in a blink, grasping her thigh, angling her ankle over his shoulder, and pulling her tightly to him.

“You generous little thing,” he croons, his mouth descending down her leg. He drops to his forearms, sucking a path of fervent kisses along the tender flesh of her inner thigh. “But I’ve only just started, darling,” he pants, his breath furling across her cunt. 

His tongue dips through her folds, mapping the heat of her with languid, deliberate strokes. Like he means to take the spread of her in his mind as much as his mouth. Commit her to muscle memory in the same manner his long, elegant fingers can nock a new arrow without a glance at his hands.

And she thinks, with a cry breaking like glass in her throat, he could have her in pieces just as easily.

The vampire’s yet to let his teeth sink in. Every drop of blood Naomi came to the woods with stays within her veins. But Astarion doesn’t need his fangs to have her in a boneless puddle beneath him; his lips alone have that managed. 

He devours her all the same, drinking in her writhing whimpers as he slips a finger inside again, groaning his approval as she takes another and clenches tightly around him. Sweat flares across her forehead with the forceful fit of her orgasm thrumming through her cunt. 

She chases after her breath, awash in Astarion’s embrace, in the sprinting thunder of her own heartbeat slamming his ribs while he climbs back over her. He strokes away the hair plastered to her cheek, and a lightweight, dizzy feeling flutters in her chest.

Realization snaps with her pulse, the back of her mouth growing suddenly dry. There’s no answering echo pounding back beneath his skin. His heart is silent, his chest cool and soothing to the touch. 

He’s quiet. Not the lonely kind of silence. But a deeper, richer shade of it. The kind of quiet that eases whatever wayward, nuisance of a noise that lurked in the back of her head. She hadn’t even known it was there until she’d known its absence. Until Astarion laid bare against her body, and she heard nothing at all inside his chest.

 It’s…nice.

“Are you still with me, darling?” The vampire searches her face, eyes narrowed by the barest hair, his curls aglow in a moonlit halo.

“Y-yes.”

“But don’t you look dazed,” he muses, putting on a pout that’s all for show. “If you still want me inside of you, you’ll have to say so, lover.”

“I do. Want it,” she answers at once, sparking a keen glint in his eye. She swallows, downing the hoarseness in her throat.

“Then say the words,” he coaxes, hovering taut above her.

Naomi tilts her head back, a sultry smile hanging slack from her swollen lips. “I want you inside me, Astarion. And I want you to have your fill of me while you’re filling me.”

His gaze dulls over, drifting down to her throat, his pupils blown wide. His voice is rich and dark as he whispers roughly, “So be it, my sweet.”

He seals the vow with a chaste kiss and the slow roll of his hips. The head of his cock nudges, warm and thick against her entrance. Instinct and anticipation have her cunt gripping around a panging nothingness. His fangs graze the pattering pulse-point in her neck. 

Naomi doesn’t know she’s held her breath until Astarion sinks into her with cock and fangs both. The exhale bleeds from her body in a heady rush.

“Isn’t that better?” He growls against her ear, the tang of her blood and sex mingling on his breath and in her nose.

Dimly, she’s aware of the prickling punctures in her neck. But then, his mouth soothes them again, sucking with a hard fervor, and she melts into the blend of his cock smacking wet against her cunt. 

Into the blend of blood and sex and sweat that takes her like a tide. Into the crash of lips and hips that has her writhing, riding on a climbing crest of pleasure. Every prod of his cock against that perfect place deep within her cunt drowns her in permeating bliss.

She could fade into that feeling entirely; dissolve into nothing but the crash of her own breath and the length of him wrapped within her. Just when she thinks she might, Astarion peels from her throat. He kisses her with groaned urgency, pulling a moan from her mouth into his. 

She comes apart that way, sealed with him, with a hard, lightning tremor shooting from her cunt through her chest. Astarion grunts, his teeth catching her lip with a sting that sends sparks simmering down through her toes. Her cunt convulses, wringing his cock through his frantic, shuddering thrusts.

Astarion parts from her mouth, face scrunched. He pours into her with a ragged groan. Absently, she strokes the dangling curls from his face, watching, rapt, as his brow trembles with the rest of him.

And then he pours from her, his body spilling into the dirt beside her, his cum seeping from her throbbing cunt. 

Cool, lonely air licks the sweat from her skin. Naomi shivers. 

Then she flinches; a flurry of fabric drops over her in a dark shadow. Gingerly, she takes the blanket, eying the swirling, pristine pattern of the stitching. It’s not the same as the one she woke up with this morning.

Astarion lies on his back next to her, still and silver as a statue.

“We can’t have you cold,” he murmurs faintly, as if miles away, “now, can we?”

A/N: THEY FINALLY FUCKED!! WOO HOO! Naomi: He's not even that good at flirting lol but it is entertaining.

Naomi five minutes later: It would be real stupid of me to think he means any of this lol we're totally just having fun it's casual

Naomi ten minutes later: Where's the cuddles though 🫠 Super excited to share Underdark happenings, lots more Naomi lore, and some Astarion POV about what just happened here next chapter! Divider credit for before and immediately after story text to @firefly-graphics. Divider credit for scene breaks and banner below to @saradika-graphics. *Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate, @mancsunite, @marlowethebard,

@ayselluna, @wingsy-keeper-of-songs, @vixstarria

*I'm sorry if I missed you, I'm new this tag list thing! Lmk if you want to be added!

[therealslimshakespeare]

ok yall be honest, of these two couples, who’s kinkier? And I don’t mean who has the more fulfilling sex, that’s to each their own and vanilla is just fine for many. it’s what they need and thrive off. but I got my headcanons and I wanna hear yours

omg girl give us the headcanons

Ok darling(s) I’m all too eager tbh. 😆 and these are just preliminary and maybe not fully canon thots so far.

First off, this ASK from earlier contains more headcanons and screams.

Jack x Tilly Headcanons (mostly 🌶️💋🔞)

warnings: these are smutty headcanons, mention of kids and Catholicism but in a fluffy context, brief breast milk mention, brief and vague SA trauma reference

•Jack is an atrocious snuggler. Actually that is wrong, he is a great one if snuggling is the Olympic sport of the moment, no one snuggles harder than this man. An odd thing to many since he is so reserved and somewhat deterring of affection in the day to day and he’s all elbows and knees. But when it comes to his woman at night or on the couch he is on her like a duck on a junebug, and that’s the order of things! Him on her. He finds a way to wrap around her somehow no matter what and to lay his head on some soft part of her. Tilly loves it as somehow she feels both comforting and kept all at once, it satisfies her energy and impulses both ways. And if he’s not doing it she immediately knows something is quite terrible up in his headspace. This has nothing to do with sex, sometimes it leads to it but often it doesn’t. Which others might find odd for how intense it is. Shhh let them be

•Jack is also a very intense kisser. He can be giggly about it, especially if drunk, but most times he’s very intense to the point of not being everyone’s cup of tea. But tbh, there’s more gentle dominance in his kisses than most men calling themselves daddy out there. His kisses age him -in a very nice way. Tilly melts into a puddle of goo -don’t believe me? Check between her legs. Actually don’t that’s Jack’s job and he’s a jealous fucker

•he’s a jaw cradler, and not from the side, he often cups it from under and it’s unintentionally giving some throat action. Or maybe it is intentional. But he’s not out there choking her (I don’t think unless she asks???) but he is a very intense jaw cradler with those fucking beautiful hands. Sometimes it feels like he’s *taking* his kisses and Tilly goes weak kneed for it. I take no criticism

•he’s a very subtle, gentle braggart about his wife. Not about his Casanova skills, no, but about his wifey. But he’ll say it and most times, it’s so wry or subtle that only five to ten minutes later will his buddies jerk and realize he just dropped some filthy sex anecdotes right there

•these two have sex a lot. they will sneak that shit in. and with all their kids it has to be snuck and often has to be quick and the eye fucking foreplay of these two throughout their day is actually a very intricate and intentional thing so when they snap and disappear for a minute or five, when the kids are riding bikes in the neighborhood and Jack has her agaisnt the fridge or when they’ve finally got themselves to an adult Christmas party where the music is loud and the powder room empty —don’t make the mistake of thinking it was all impulse. It was, but it was brewed for hours if not days before until they snapped and collided.

•with something so rushed and spur of the minute, Johnny often worries his baby is getting her fix. And the idea of her not is awful, the idea of him getting his but she not getting hers is outright anathema to him. Good thing those fingers (and Bucky’s tips, yes thanks Egan you can shush now) and that tongue are wickedly smart. If Benny is a wonder of slow savoring, John Brady is a buzzing brand held right to her until Tilly is coming a mere fifteen seconds after thinking it wasn't to be.

•Tilly is usually the one begging “harder” but Sweet Jesus he delivers. Doesn’t mean it’s not loving but holy shit there are hip bruises and the sound of him smacking off her lush backside is enough to send him dizzy and get them reported for having a pile driver in the living room

•Jack is a munch, as my fellow anons have agreed, and this man likes it best when she is sat on his face. It’s the thighs around his face, the view upwards and the suffocation and the way she’s able to grind down so well when it feels good and tug his hair and he just goes to another world that way. Only time this man de-stresses tbh

•But he’ll go down anywhere. And he’d rather do it before these rushed quickies spoken of above but Tilly loves the pummeling friction first and then a quick few smooches and swipes of his tongue down there and she’s gushing. So he complies, if that’s how his missus wants it, she gets it.

•which is rather a maxim for Brady life, not just sex. But this woman is the one bringing up some wild shit to this man and he rolls with it, happily. Sometimes she’s just already positioned or dressed for it when he comes home or comes back into the room after putting the kids down and he’s gives an absolutely wry and sardonic greeting followed by the noise of his belt jangling loose followed by the most heated kiss you ever did see.

•“You look nice.” he’ll compliment her respectfully when she’s in the most debauched accouterments.

•Can’t wait, gotta have you, be good for me” he’ll say when she’s prim as any other Catholic housewife in her dress still crinkled from kneeling in mass

•the Catholic dichotomy drives Tilly nuts (note, author may be projecting)

•i think this man has a raging praise kink, and Tilly is downright ready to feed it. Has little choice, she says what she thinks and is very vocal in all aspects of life and he makes her go to heaven and back and she is gonna narrate the trip. That’s how she is and he’s a moaning mess for it

•But it’s in a primarily “you make me feel so good, I love you so much, how are you so good at that?” sorta way. She keeps one other way tucked away for very special occasions when the mood is right

•it’s got to be just right tho. not that a bomb will go off if it’s not, he’ll just sorta look at her like “thanks babe, you’re silly tho” if she times it wrong. If she times it right?! Times it right and all she’s gotta do is call him boy and he shakes and hardens into an absolute mess. He’s gotta be pretty far goners when she plays that card, but if he is, he loses it. “That’s it sweet boy, you’re my pretty boy, so good to me darling boy, hold on for me a little longer sweet boy, you’re my boy aren’t you?”

•with Tilly being so lush and warm and free and easy, I am gonna be bold and admit this couple 100% lets that man suck her titties -even when she’s got milk in them. It’s no age regression thing at all, it’s not “mommy kink” either, in fact, it's simply the man who made her a mother helping her out when she’s swollen and hurting, or else, savoring the changes he made to her body. As a man. And it’s just something soft and sweet to indulge in. And Tilly does have the most incredible rack ever so there’s that as well.

•is there a small breeding kink or is he just Catholic and does she enjoy the faces he makes and the hot splash of him when he cums inside? who knows tbh

•Jack has to be facing her. Or at least for years. He’s gotta be facing her or else a mirror and they learned this the hard way, otherwise his trauma will literally teleport him elsewhere and shut him down and it’s the most horrible thing has ever witnessed

•also for very a long time he wasn’t just unable to bear things being done to him like a blow job, but truly it fucking sent him as well. A remedy for this was found to be his enjoyment of oral for her or else full in sex or, with care and time, mutually giving. He just can’t lay there and enjoy being serviced, it’s not him being too stressed or picky, he legitimately is traumatized by it. So, god bless 69 even if Still thinks she’s trash at it because he’s so good at what he does on his end that after the first two minutes she is usually so blissed out she just holds his cock and moans on it instead actually doing much of anything close to blowing him

•there are some other stalag trauma related triggers and helps and tastes that we’ll revisit later once more of that it out in public consumption but there’s that for now I think. This was SUCH fun

[zablife]

Lee! I’ve just seen your gif blurbs prompts are open so I had to come running! 🏃‍♀️

Ok look, I know that strictly this isn’t a peaky moment BUT he’s serving me soft Luca vibes and I need that in my life, ok? 🤭 Maybe something a little smutty if you’re feeling it? xx

Alex, ty for this amazing prompt! I decided to write about young Luca when he arrives in New York and becomes part of the mafia there. This blurb contains heavy smut with a dash of angst. I hope you enjoy it!

“Oh, fuck…that feels so…good,” you moaned out the broken words as best you could with Luca driving his hips into you. He smirked down at you, pleased at how quickly you were unraveling beneath him. Grabbing your chin in his hand, he ducked his head to kiss you full, tongue delving into your mouth, greedy for every part he could claim as his. As his rings pressed into the side of your cheek, he stole the very breath from your lungs. And when he had you gasping for air he demanded more. “Cum for me principessa,” he commanded in a voice that was too soft and sweet for the way he was fucking you, the backs of your knees pressed to your chest to sink deeper inside you.

The feeling of him dragging against your sensitive inner wall had you mewling, teetering on the edge of bliss until one final snap of his hips allowed him to brush your swollen clit, setting off fireworks behind your eyelids. Your fingernails dug into his arms as the wave of your orgasm crested and Luca chased his own high.

Clutching the back of your neck, he pulled you up to straddle him. One hand splayed against your back and the other on your hip in a vice like grip, he guided you to ride him, delivering a harsh slap to your ass when you faltered. “Another. Give me another,” he groaned, pulling you in for a kiss. “Want you to cum with me,” he mumbled against your lips, hand stroking over the column of your throat. His possessiveness made the heat pool in your lower belly once more. The way you rocked against him and the little sobs escaping your throat were enough to still Luca as he spilled inside you, triggering your second orgasm.

You still felt the aftershocks as he pulled you to his chest, heart hammering against your cheek as you peppered him lightly with kisses. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he asked, "Feeling good, angel?"

“I feel great,” you giggled, pulling his right hand to your face to place a kiss to his knuckles, fingers ghosting over a recent injury. As you did, the bandage wrapped around his wrist unfurled suddenly and your blood ran cold at the sight of a fresh tattoo. Even in the dim lighting the outline of a black hand was clear and you knew it carried a pledge of loyalty.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your chest as your mind reeled. Running a hand through your hair you were vaguely aware you were shaking. Luca didn't bother to rewrap his wrist. Instead he reached out for you, but you pulled away to sit at the edge of the bed, needing a moment to think.

You took a deep breath before saying, “I thought your father sent you here to keep you out of trouble. Why would you listen to strangers who want to tell you what to do with your future?” you wondered aloud.

“Amore, it was my choice," he attempted to explain. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

"Of course, but I’m scared, Luca," you told him truthfully.

You felt his strong arms encircle you from behind, his head coming to rest in the crook of your neck. "Why? This is a good opportunity for me. You should be happy," he insisted.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. This is dangerous work and I'm worried," you admitted.

"You don't have to be nervous," he said placing a kiss to your shoulder. "I'm always gonna keep you safe, principessa."

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Rick and Harley only have eyes for each other, but unfortunately not everyone got the memo

Prompt was jealous quinnflag, sent in by @skyromaniac-05 and I 1000% used it as an excuse to write smutty quinnflag, because I missed it. This one is definitely getting shadowbanned (unless this hellsite surprises me) so I'ma post the link in a separate post so y'all can find it.

Rick’s minding his business on a couch at the former Black Mask club—sipping a beer and watching Harley having the time of her life on the dancefloor—when he’s approached by a random woman. She’s younger, blonde, and holding a glass of red wine. He ignores her at first when she plops down right next to him. She leans close and says, “Hey, I’ve never seen you here before.”

He snorts but doesn’t answer. He and Harley are actually here every Friday since it’s her favorite spot for dancing.

Instead of taking a hint, the lady doubles down on her efforts to engage him in conversation. “Oooh, I like your tattoos,” she comments—tracing her finger around the outline of the one on his right bicep.

He’s trying to think of the most polite way to tell her to back the fuck off and to stop touching him when he sees Harley stalking towards him—a scowl on her face that’s aimed at the woman who’s been trying to talk to him.

He internally breathes out a sigh of relief. Before he can greet her, she’s draping herself over his lap—crashing her lips into his.

He kisses back automatically—one hand going to her thigh and the other to the back of her neck to pull her closer. He vaguely registers whatshername (she may have told him her name, he wasn’t paying attention) storming off in a huff. He’s too busy to really give a shit.

They’re both breathing hard when they come up for air. “What was all that for?” he asks, once his brain is functioning again.

“She was all over you,” Harley pouts.

Oh. Oh! That… explained a lot.

He chuckles and slides his hand further up her thigh under her dress. He rasps in her ear, “Aww, Harls, you know you’re the only one I have eyes for, right?”

She bites her lip and nods. He grins and tells her, “Meet me behind the building in five minutes, darlin’.”

He watches her stand up and stumble towards the door on shaky legs. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

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

Harley waits outside the club for what feels like an hour but is probably only a few minutes. She’s so horny she could cry and Rick’s taking his sweet ass time.

When he finally appears, she pounces on him immediately—legs going around his waist and lips crashing into his. She feels the rough brick wall on her back as he attacks her neck with nips and kisses—marking his territory.

“Fuck me!” she gasps.

He slides his hand up her inner thigh to her panties—which are soaked through. “Someone’s eager, huh?” he teases.

Oh god, she’s gonna bite his head off if he doesn’t fucking touch her already!

She’s cut off mid-thought when his fingers slip underneath her panties and drag through her wet heat up to her clit.

She moans loudly and encourages him to keep going. She’s so wound up that she comes embarrassingly fast on his fingers—but he’s not done with her.

She can feel his hands between their bodies as he fumbles with his belt buckle, and bites his neck—hard—to muffle her scream as he slams into her.

By the time they’re done, he’s as marked up as she is.

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

She’s giggling as they slip back inside the club. Rick’s hair is a post-fuck mess and she’s sure hers isn’t much better. She can’t help but smile smugly when she sees the bitch who was flirting with him earlier—scowling at the two of them while she sips her wine.

She makes a detour to the bathroom so she can straighten out her hair and has to bite her lip to suppress a moan when she sees just how marked up she is. God, she loves this man.

After reapplying her lipstick and putting her hair back up she heads over to the bar for another drink. She’s waiting for the bartender to notice her when she feels a hand grope her ass and a sleazy voice in her ear saying, “Hey baby, lemme buy you a drink.”

She tenses and grabs the hand that’s touching her. “I just want ya to know that my boyfriend is gonna kick your fuckin’ ass if you don’t back the fuck off.”

“She’s right, you know,” she hears, before Rick is shoving the guy away from her and then grabbing him by the collar.

Despite how dark it is in the club, she can see the guy’s face drain of color as he stammers out a half-assed apology.

Rick lets him go but watches him like a hawk until he sees him leave the club completely.

“You okay, Harls?”

“Yes and that was the second hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says as she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt. “Take me home, right the fuck now, Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds with a smirk. “But first we gotta close out our tab.”

Harley shrieks in frustration and Rick laughs, pulling her close and caressing her hip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear.

They manage to make it back to their apartment building in record time.

But they don’t make it out of the truck.

[newtonsheffield]

So awards AU … they’re ‘guaranteed’ to have time with Anthony … does he already have a crush on her from TV? Or is she unknown until he’s on the red carpet? More clowny smutty snippets from this AU please…

Yeah they’re guaranteed time with him. He’s a major British star, tipped to win big all season and they’re one of the biggest, if not the biggest, morning shows in the country so his people have agreed they’ll steer him towards the British shoes as a priority.

Anthony is vaguely aware that Kate Sharma is a morning news presenter. He’s aware of the name and he’s definitely seen her face but meeting her in person is something else entirely.

He’s kind of in awe of her. She’s stunning, for one. Looks like she’s dropped straight down from Heaven about 15 seconds before and her almost expects to hear a choir singing in the background and see a halo above her head. But she also asks him interesting questions after the obligatory who are you wearing? She doesn’t ask about his gym routine, or whether it’s true his costars are now in a polyamorous relationship. She asks him about his process and the character work behind it as though she’s genuinely interested in his answer. And he’s suddenly desperate to know everything about her.

So he answers her questions and wiggles his eyebrows and winks at her and he can tell from the way she flushes: she’s just as interested as he is. So naturally as soon as he’s off the red carpet he’s straight on his phone googling Kate Sharma. Following her on Instagram immediately and smiling at the hundred pictures of a corgi puppy he’s found.

So at the next red carpet she’s at Anthony finds himself greeting her again:

“Well, I was just hoping you were going to be here.”

“Oo don’t get too carried away, Anthony, BBC 2 next door’ll get jealous.”

Anthony can’t help but grin at her, at the quick way she found her feet and pushed back at him. “Oh well, let them.” He raised his voice. “Kate Sharma’s my Favourite TV presenter!”

“Thank you, very sweet. So, I heard you’re here with your mother tonight which is again: very sweet, and apparently we’re all desperate to hear why no one’s been asked to come along.”

Anthony chuckled, looking up at her through his eyelashes, and stepping so close to the microphone his lips touched it and he could nearly feel her body pressed against his. “Eh I’d have loved to bring you but apparently you’re working tonight. What about you? Did you bring… Mr Sharma with you?”

Kate didn’t miss a beat, purposely mistaking his meaning “Nope, my Dad’s probably watching from the couch in Hounslow. Say Hi to my Papa.”

“Kate’s Dad, an honour to talk to your figurative presence sir: You have an excellent daughter.” He leaned in a bit closer, “And Hello to Newton, who might be watching with him. Give him a big belly rub from me.”

And when he got into his seat, his chest still burning with something and boredly looked at his phone he couldn’t help but grin to himself when he saw the notification

@ SharmaKate is now following you

[hopeamarsu]

The Moon in May - Full Moon

Marcus Pike x gn!reader (no pronouns)

Word count 771

Warnings Vague smutty smut, omegaverse

Summary “Not yet, Omega,” Marcus rumbles low. “Let me enjoy you like this.”

A/N The third Moon in May fic is finished. It was somewhat of a battle to get this done, but I am a little proud of how this turned out in the end. I tend to love to torture Marcus in my fics so this is something totally different with him.

It feels like thunder. How it grows from a low, distant sound to a rumble that vibrates through your entire body is an experience you’ve only had with thunderstorms before. But unlike that, this sound doesn’t make you feel small and scared. Instead, you feel warm and cherished in his naked embrace. 

Your back is to his front, the warm muscles in his chest pressing against the sweat-slick skin hard yet soft at the same time. He’s got the physique of an Alpha and you love it; his size and demeanor are designed to make you feel protected and it remains even when he’s under you. 

His fingers trace patterns to your forearm that make no sense to anyone but him. They trail from your wrist to your elbow and shoulder before venturing back and you’ve given up on trying to find any rhyme or reason in them. He’ll let you know if and when they mean something deeper than just a touch. It’s one of the things you really love about Marcus, how he will always tell you what he means, be it the words he speaks or the actions he does. 

The rumbling sound grows larger and captures you into its net, filling your senses with things that make up your Alpha. Care, love, and desire all circle around from his purr and you press your ass tighter into his groin. You feel his hardness press into your back and the urge to wiggle around is almost too much. But the purr shifts, growing lower in his register, and his other hand presses on your stomach to keep you grounded.

“Not yet, Omega,” Marcus rumbles low. “Let me enjoy you like this.”

“Like what, Alpha?” You breathe out, wishing he’d move his clever fingers a little down where you ache for him. You need him, you crave his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You ache for him to have you fast but the Alpha is determined to take this slow. 

“Content. Calm. Letting me show you my love,” He answers, returning to his purring. His body seems to vibrate in tune with his purr and it’s nearly impossible now to not squirm in his lap. He kisses your neck, his tongue laving over the sweet spot and you lean your head to the side, giving him more access. His teeth nip on the exposed skin and you gasp at the small sting. The answering chuckle before Marcus returns to his purring tells you exactly what his plan is.

“You… you are e-evil,” You pant out while spreading your legs and letting him know where you want him. His purr changes again, this time quieting down but remaining in the background, an erotic sound if you ever heard one. He finally moves his hand on your stomach, trailing down until his fingers find their target and you whimper loudly. But it’s merely a brush of a tease before his hand continues down to your knee. 

You are about to protest - there’s no calm or content fiber in your body left - but then he takes hold of one leg and moves it over his own knee before repeating the action with your other one. You are fully exposed to him now and the rush of cold air makes you tingle. You throw your head back at the sensation and when his hand finally finds your center, you can no longer hold back. The way he touches you feels too good to keep inside. “Fuck!” You curse and 

“Not yet, my sweet Omega,” Marcus repeats his words, determined to drag the pleasure out. He’s still not pressing down hard enough, his touch not strong or like you yearn it to be and you just know your Alpha is enjoying the tease too much. You can practically hear his grin.

But you are not without tricks of your own and you wiggle backward in retaliation, rubbing his cock on your backside. His purr grows into a groan but your victorious smile is cut short by a moan of your own as he pinches you just so that the pain and pleasure intermingle. You feel more than hear his slow taunt when he shifts his knees wider, opening you up further and his hand, the one that had idly traced the patterns on your skin, joins the other. They begin moving up and down your body, now full-on playing and robbing you of your breath. 

“Tsk tsk, impatient one, aren’t you? Let me show you just what I have planned,” He starts purring again, letting the sound carry both of you toward the unknown.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! Tagging the creator of this wonderful challenge @lavenderursa

[stardusthuntress]

A Gala-ctic Evening (Part 1)

ARC Echo x female!reader 

(Part 2)

Word Count: ~6.5k (idk what happened, it got away from me!) 

Summary: Echo and the classic ‘Night at the Gala’ trope. What a fun way to start a relationship with a sweet, flirty trooper like Echo? Corporal, ‘fix it all and flirt the whole way’ is your date for tonight, how far will the night take you? 

TW: reader is wearing a dress/jumpsuit that is fitted to a stereotypical female body shape, but reader is not described in detail; Lots of fun teasing and flirty moments with our favorite ARC trooper; let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: had to try my hand at this classic trope, and who better to go with than Echo? This one got away from me… it’s like 14 pages, and ~2-3 times as long as my usual fics… and it will also have a part 2 that gets smutty. No minors allowed! 18+ only! I've been meaning to post part of this for ages, but last weekend was the local con - so much star wars, it was so nice to be around fellow nerds again - and time raced past me. So enjoy this extra-long lead-up to the Echo smut that will be part 2!

Mando'a translations: Mesh'la = beautiful

Echo dividers by @/djarrex, hyperspace banners are my own

Hunter turned when Echo stopped mid-sentence. That wasn’t like Echo. But he quickly realized Echo wasn’t likely to ever finish his statement. He was busy trying to remember how to talk and not gawk. She had just entered the room and Echo’s attention was glued to her. Echo could barely remember how to breathe. 

She was wearing a gorgeous blue dress, and Echo was captivated. 

The dress was two toned, The bottom layer was a rich, midnight blue. The top, a color near and dear to his heart, 501st blue! Rich royal blue in color, it was slightly shimmery, and covered in swirling stars, giving her the appearance of an ethereal goddess of the night in his eyes. This one looked soft, and made him want to reach out for her even more than he already did. Which was quite a lot, especially considering how the rest of the dress complimented her figure. 

His eyes quickly trailed across her, taking in all the details that just accentuated how beautiful she was to him. The sleeveless, plunging neckline, the way the fabric wrapped tightly round her lower waist so it flared out over her hips flowing serenly to the floor with a long slit up one leg. Paired with heels that kept her ankles as an angle that made Echo wish he could feel her soft feet pressing into his back at that same angle as she wrapped her legs around him 

He couldn’t quite tell if the bottom half was shaped more like a skirt or like pants, but it did things to him either way! 

But his favorite detail was a delicate white belt that adorned her middle, with an engraved buckle… emblazoned with the shape of a handprint! HIS handprint! 

She couldn’t have know that though, could she? The Bad Batch didn’t know it. They’d never seen his old armor. Except maybe Tech while doing his research on Echo’s past. But she joined the 99th after him. Did she know? 

Echo didn’t have time to think it over, his mind was a little too distracted. In the mirror behind her, he can see her back exposed. The dress wrapped over her shoulders, and crossed at the top of her back, and wrapping to cross again at the front of her waist this time, just beneath her breasts and across her stomach, accentuating the shape of her breasts and waist, while leaving her mid to lower back open. 

Echo was in trouble, there was no way he would be able to take his eyes off of her all night long. Forget searching for the target, he was going to have to guard her with everything he had. She’d be the envy of all. 

He became vaguely aware she was beginning to look nervous. 

“Do I look ok?” She asked, worry in her voice and painting her features. 

“You look stunning Mesh’la [beautiful]! Your belt just reminded me of something. That’s all.”  

She relaxes significantly, smiling a dangerous smile and stepping closer. Echo held his ground. He wasn’t about to back away from a gorgeous woman, especially not one he’d been pining over from a distance for so long. He still didn’t believe his brothers that she wanted him. Not even Rex could convince him of it. 

She placed her hand upon his chest, right where the handprint from Rex had once decorated his chest plate. 

He subconsciously puffed out his chest, watching her closely. 

“I liked your handprint,” she whispered. 

He nearly melted into a puddle and disappeared through the floor grates with that. She stood before him in his old colors, with his signifying handprint on her waist, in a dress that revealed so much more of her than he had yet been lucky enough to see. He was doing his best to regulate his own breathing, but even his ARC training was no match for a gorgeous woman who was doing everything she could to playfully tease him. 

With a shaky breath he finally let him consider that his brothers might have been right about her after all. He hadn’t been sure before, but he was starting to take the hint now! 

She’d given up on subtlety. Echo didn’t believe he was worthy of love like hers anymore… and she was going to prove him wrong. She loved him. 

Echo sighed, his eyes trailed to the floor. “I was a whole man back then. You deserve better than whatever I am now.” 

“You’re a whole man now too. Lots of people get mods. I should take you to Tatooine some time and show you the mod parlors there. Maybe they have a better solution for the chronic pain you’ve been dealing with.” She countered, without missing a beat. 

Still looking at the floor, Echo was suddenly aware that at this angle, he couldn’t miss the fact that her hand still rested on his chest.  Wanting to drag out the moment just a little bit longer, he placed his hand over hers, and just held her hand to his chest for a moment. 

As he looked at her hand resting on his chest, his gaze began to drift to her wrist, and up her arm, to the rest of her. The outfit she wore complimented her shape well, he thought. 

“This looks really good on you,” he told her, eyes lingering on the way it hugged her waist and flowed around her as she moved. 

She smiled, “Thanks! It has pockets!” And she stuffed her free hand into a pocket to show it off. 

Echo smiled back, and laughed at her enthusiasm. 

Behind him, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair entered the room. Tech was already part way through explaining how his ingenious proximity data wiping device worked. Crosshair had several clothing bags slung over his shoulder. He silently thrust one at Echo. 

“Your turn, Echo!” Wrecker bellowed. “If we did everything right, it should match hers!” He pointed proudly at her. “Woah!” Wrecker realized she was already ready to go. “I thought you were pretty in just normal stuff already, but this is really pretty!” 

“Aww, thanks, Wreck!” She replied. “I haven't even put on any makeup yet.” 

Echo’s scomp brushed her chin and tilted her face upwards towards his own. His eyes raked her features with a respectful hunger, tracing from her cheeks, to the graceful swoop of her hair, to her nose, lips, and back to her eyes. 

“You don’t need makeup, Mesh’la,” his voice was quiet, “nothing can compare with you on a normal day anyways,” 

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, at a loss for words. Echo smirked. He liked being the reason she was rendered speechless. 

Tech’s final round mission briefings continued, and he turned to the pair, seemingly none the wiser to what was going on as his head was still clearly in his datapad. “Now, this will likely require any and all types of stall tactics to get enough passes to wipe the data without allowing the target to catch onto anyone. You two,” he points to Echo and the woman still standing just a little too close for friends “will be paired together to increase the likelihood of one of them being able to wipe the data while the other stalls the target. Hunter and Crosshair will also be in attendance, individually. I shall monitor from here, and Wrecker will be the getaway driver, ready to get you all out should anything go wrong, or awaiting the end of party signal for the multiple, individual pick ups at the end. I shall provide you all with earpieces when you are ready to go.” And he shuffles off, attention already on the workstation that he will be using to hack into the security system of the lavish residence. 

The boys disperse to dress, and she takes a few moments to step into the fresher and finish up, but inspired by Echo’s compliments, manages to stick to only a little bit of makeup for this evening. But she couldn’t resist a dark lipstick, just for something a little different and fun. 

A few moments later, Echo appears in the doorway to the fresher. His collar popped, and an untied bow tie draped over his shoulders. “Uhhhh, do you think you could give me a hand with this? I seem to be short one too many to figure this out.” He sighs, and finally looks up. His eyes widen, “Stars! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

She smiles and giggles, and Echo is mesmerized. 

Her attention turns to the blue fabric Echo was struggling with. He watches as she takes one in each hand, and uses them to teasingly tug him a little closer before tying it into a bowtie quickly and skillfully. She lets her hands linger on his chest, playing with the royal blue lapels that matched her own gown, enjoying how he once again, subconsciously puffs his chest out a bit at her touch. 

“Woah, guess I came to the right person,” he mutters. “Thank you.” He mental shakes himself, and his suave, flirty side reappears as he scoops up one of her hands in his, and brings it to his lips to kiss. “Is there anything these beautiful hands can’t do?” He asks. 

“Well, they could do to be a little softer. I do spend a lot of time working with power tools and utilizing my meager self-defense skills.” 

He rubs a thumb over her fingers. “They’re still remarkably soft, my Starlight. And if it’s self-defense that you feel you’re lacking on, I’d be happy to train you… if… that was… something you wanted, Gorgeous.” 

The thought of sparring together, glistening with sweat, and taking turns slamming each other into the mat with deliberate, drawn out touches, and the chance to hear what the other sounds like when breathing heavy and maybe even catch a few moans, if they’re lucky, distracts them both. Unbenounced to them, they’re drifting closer together. 

“That would actually really help,” she muttered, distracted by how close Echo is standing. 

“You’ve got it, Mesh’la. We can start tomorrow if you’re up for it?” He suggests. 

“Sounds like a plan,” she returns. “But for tonight, we should head on our way. We don’t want to get there after the target, and have to listen to Hunter’s lecture about punctuality tomorrow, would we?” 

She’s here on behalf of the senator from Alderaan. That way if anyone recognized Echo’s face (not likely amongst the higher class though) they could easily use the excuse that Senator Organa was hiring clones for his security detachments - which was actually true. He was aware the clones needed homes and had more than adequate training to serve as royal and senatorial guards. And he gave them wonderful salaries. In fact, he insisted on paying up front for this mission at double the rate that had been suggested, and buying all the attendees custom outfits because “that’s what privileged senators do for good friends”. And then he promised Echo that should he ever need repairs or adjustments for his mods, he was welcome on Alderaan and would be seen by the same doctor as the royal family. And should any of the clones need medical care - since they were not covered by imperial medical care they could not go to most medical facilities - he had a secret medical facility that would accommodate them. 

It wasn’t long before the speeder pulled up to the scene of the party, as Wrecker dropped them off, Echo made haste to step out first and reach out his hand to help her out of the speeder. She smiled up at him, and he beamed back. As she stepped out, a cool breeze came up, and he could see the goosebumps forming on her arms and shoulders. Instinctively, he pulled her towards him a little more, to shield her from the wind. Wanting to get her inside quickly, he nodded at Wrecker, who gave him a thumbs up, and then returned his attention to the road, as he pulled away. 

Echo turned back to his companion for the night. She stood next to him, nervously watching the guests enter. Echo shifted to her other side, so he could gently place his real hand on the exposed skin of her lower back to both reassure her and warm her up. He knew the metal of his scomp link would be cold, and she still had goosebumps. Besides, he needed to feel her skin on his own. Just this once. 

“Eyes on me, Sweetheart.” He was determined to wipe the nerves off her face before they entered. 

She looked up at him, brow knitted, only to find a calm steadiness looking back. 

“No need to rush it. We are here, whenever you are ready.” His voice was comforting and even. 

Tech had tried to convince her to take this mission alone, but she had refused, requesting a partner. Echo had volunteered without hesitation. Any chance to support her he jumped at. 

She took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on him, and letting the exhale sweep away as much of the dread as she could muster. 

They entered the gala to find a setting more luxurious than either of them had ever seen. Tall pillars lined the hallway, leading to a grandiose ballroom. Gold filigree and mirrors decorated everything. As they entered the ballroom, they could see that the pillars continued around the main dance floor, and up through three more floors that looked out over the dance floor and out over the extensive gardens that set a stunning backdrop behind the orchestra. It seemed like every exterior wall here was more window than wall. 

They exchanged glances, making an effort not to gawk too much. But both of them feeling out of their element. Used to armor and battlefields, dance floors with slow concertos for waltzing was a complete 180 from their normal. 

Echo’s eyes drifted easily back from the ballroom to the gorgeous woman on his arm, and smiled. Still the most beautiful thing in the room, he decided. He watched as her eyes drifted to the fourth floor, following her gaze to the glass ceiling and dark ambience up there, allowing guests to see the stars with less distraction from music. He looked back at her. 

“That seems like a good place to start, my Starlight. Likely candidate for someone wanting to hide away and smuggle data into the wrong hands unseen.” 

She looked up and him and smiled. “Oh Echo, ever the clever ARC. I’ll follow you, these shoes don’t exactly allow me to do much else.”

He spared a quick glare at her shoes, as though his stern soldier’s stare could convince an inanimate object to change it’s ways. And gently lead her away from the stairs and towards the transparisteel lift, like he’d been doing this all his life. 

They both gaped at the room as the lift doors opened and they found themselves on the periphery of what appeared to be a personal museum, owned by whoever was throwing this lavish party. Each object of interest lit from below with red light. 

“Red light,” she whispered as they perused the items “smart idea. Red light allows the eye to adjust to lower light levels in night-like environments and still be able to see what is lit without hurting the eye. Old astronomy trick.” 

Echo smiled. He loved finding topics she had random bits of trivia on, it was his clue that he’d found a topic that was interesting enough for her to dig into in her spare time. While he would sit and read up on reg manuals (so they wouldn’t be caught unawares the next time they had to infiltrate an Imperial base, of course), she would often sit and research with him. And now he knew just a little more of what she was researching at his side. 

He could feel her ever so slightly tugging them towards the telescopes near the window. She likely wasn’t even aware that she was pulling him in that direction. So he took the initiative and slowly but deliberately lead her to the telescope in the far corner. Besides, neither Tech nor Crosshair had seen their target arrive, so what was the harm in letting her heart lead them around for a few minutes? Echo relished in the chance to get to know her a little better. 

She bent down and peered through the telescope. He admired the open back on her dress, and the way her hair danced over her shoulders as she did so. He needed to distract himself before he started staring at the way her outfit fit her ass just right, so he hastily asked her a question. “What do you see, my Starlight?” 

She smiled, straightening back up, her cheeks warm as Echo’s new nickname for her sank in. He’d called her that at least twice tonight already, and it was hard not to love such a sweet nickname from a man like him. “Remember that ringed planet Tech pointed out on our way into the system? You should take a look, it’s quite pretty.” 

Echo laughed lightly, “I doubt anything could compare to the Galaxy in front of me right now.” The adoration in his eyes caught her off guard. She blushed and shyly tucked her hair behind her ear. Echo reaches out and curls a finger beneath her chin to redirect her gaze back up from the floor “Chin up, ‘My Lady’, tonight you are as royal as anyone else here.” 

Her smile was all the motivation Echo needed. His attention slipped to her lips as she did so. 

She caught the movement in his eyes and could feel the tingle of excitement race through her limbs to her core. She straightened up, relaxing her shoulders, tucking her tailbone down, and allowing him to draw her chin upwards. And tossed a confident smirk his way. Echo almost decided to forgo the mission right there. But something in him stopped him. Something that wanted to draw out the teasing and flirting for as long as he could. He didn’t know where this night would lead after they discreetly wiped the data from the disk during the handoff tonight, but he could make this part as fun as possible. And considering the spark of wild confidence he could see stirring in her eyes, she didn’t mind the fun and games one bit. 

“The suspect has arrived” Tech’s voice crackled the comms in their ears to life. 

Her eyes remained trained on Echo’s, and his on hers. 

“Confirmed. They are heading for the bar on level 2,” Crosshair hissed, doing his brotherly best to one up Tech, just a tad. “I’ve got them for now. Echo and y/n are on level 4.” 

“Yes, I see them too,” Tech responded, either oblivious to Crosshair’s competitive streak, or attempting to ignore it. “Though I question whether their attention is really on the mission at hand…” 

She spared a quick, annoyed glance away from Echo’s expressive eyes, at the nearest security camera, before returning to Echo’s captivating gaze. Echo’s eyes lit up as he laughed and wrapped his hand around to the small of her back. 

“The data disk is not up here” she spoke softly, but her voice held the power of royalty. She played her part well, Echo thought. 

“I am merely stating that—“ Tech started, but was cut off as Hunter interjected. 

“—Let ‘em be for now, we just need to know when the target moves.” 

“Yessir” came Tech’s curt, but nonchalant reply. 

Echo’s signature smirk from his 501st days with Fives had returned. And as far as she was concerned, she would make a point to keep it there all night long. He wore it well. 

Echo used the hand on her lower back to guide her towards a table with tall stools near the wall farthest from the stairs. “I thought you might like a chance to sit for a moment, ‘My Starlight’, those heels of yours can’t be comfortable.” 

She smiled and took a seat, glancing around. This spot was farther from the security cameras, Tech couldn’t be as nosy while they sat here. 

“You should sit too, this might be our only chance all night.” 

Two floors down, Crosshair was busy being a brother in a different way. He subtlely bumped into an already tipsy bar patron, who knocked into the tray the bartender was holding, upon which perched an array of drinks, amongst which sat the target’s drink. All of which topped to the floor, and the sticky contents splashed everywhere. The wobbly bar patron apologized profusely to the bartender and Crosshair used the distraction to comm the others. 

“Service is a little slow down here, why don’t you two hold your station up there. Hunter has some time to reach the gardens, those are the most likely locations for the exchange.” 

There was a muffled grunt in Tech’s voice, and distant and poorly suppressed laughter from Wrecker behind h im. It seemed Tech had been about to point out that Crosshair was not going to get his drink any faster when he did that either, but Wrecker had just punched Tech’s shoulder to keep himself from laughing and Tech from delivering his annoyed speech. 

Back up on the fourth floor, she and Echo were admiring the stars and exchanging war stories, and she was attempting to get him to try the slice of decadent cake he had retrieved from a buffet table for her. They spent a solid half an hour chatting and laughing together. 

The comms in their ears crackled to life again as Crosshair cleared his throat. “‘Scuse me,” he muttered, as sounds of shuffling made their way through his transmitter, “yes, four as well.” He must be in the lift, likely with the target. 

She looked up at Echo and raised a brow. He nodded descretely. So that was Crosshair’s signal. How very Crosshair. 

“How about a walk in the gardens, Handsome?” She asked Echo, who nodded with a smile and reached out a hand for her to lean on as she hopped down from the tall bar stool, keeping her on his arm as they walked to wait for the lift. In their ears, Tech read off the amount of data wiped every 10th percentile. 

As the lift doors opened, Crosshair’s eyes met Echo’s. One exchanged glance, and Echo paused. She could feel him bracing for impact. 

“52% data erasure,” Tech whispered. 

As the lift occupants exited, Crosshair feigned a drunken stumble, and knocked into the target as they passed Echo and y/n, clearly sober enough not to spill a single drop of his own drink. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and walked off. 

Y/n and Echo paused, to ‘help’ the target. 

“Are you alright sir?” She asked. 

“Quite fine, thank you, my dear” the man answered. “My apologies for bumping into you two.” He turned to Echo “didn’t mean to run into you, my good man. Please accept my apologies.” 

“Consider it accepted,” Echo responded. 

“Have a good evening young lovebirds” the man chirped happily, and moseyed off. 

They stepped into the lift and the doors closed behind them. 

“65% data erasure, all large files removed, it should go significantly faster from here. I estimate a maximum of 3 more passes to complete the data erasure process.” Tech supplied. 

Echo added into the quiet of the lift they now had to themselves “Seemed like a nice guy, too bad he’s nice to the wrong people. Doesn’t seem like the type I’d have thought was selling data to our enemies.” 

“I watched him receive the package near the door,” Hunter’s voice joined the conversation. “I don’t think he knows what he’s selling nor who he’s selling it to. Seemed rather oblivious to anything but the credits transferred into his account. He’s just a middle man. A front.” 

“Well at least he’s got enough money to bail himself out when his luck runs out here shortly,” y/n added. 

The doors to the lift opened, and she and Echo exchanged places with Hunter on his way up to level 4. Continuing with the plan to have as many of them rub shoulders with the man as possible to lower the likelihood that he could point a finger at any one person, nor a group of people. 

Out in the cool air of the gardens, Echo could feel his date clinging more tightly to his arm and taking smaller, more deliberate steps. He guided her to a bench, muttering about those damn shoes. 

She laughed. “I’d complain about them myself, but it seems like you have that covered” she giggled as he knelt and gently scooped up her ankle with his scomp so he could remove the troublesome accessory. 

She was supposed to look up, to watch the exchange of places by Hunter and Crosshair and make sure they weren’t spotted by the target, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of how sweet Echo was being as he slipped her heels off, and massaged her feet a bit to loosen the knots he could feel in them. 

She sighed as he rubbed her feet, relaxing and leaning towards Echo as he shifted towards the to place the heels neatly on the bench next to her. 

He’d been half hard all night, especially with the way she’d listened to his stories so intently, asking questions that recognized each of the clones he described as real people worthy of all the same things everyone else in the galaxy took for granted. Not to mention the way she’d been playing footsie with him under the table through the whole thing. Despite having metal lower limbs, he could still tell when someone nudged his legs or tangled theirs with his. That, at least, Tech wouldn’t have been able to see from the camera angles he had access to. 

But when she sighed with relief right next to his ear! Echo could feel the heat rising along his neck. Oh, what he would give to hear her make more noises like that from his ministrations alone. 

She pressed her forehead to Echo’s temple as he sat there so sweetly continuing to massage her sore feet. Trying desperately not to pant into the comm device in his headset. 

Speaking of the comms, snippets of conversation were making their way through the two hazy minds. Hunter seemed to be idly prattling on with the target, bits of small talk about the gardens and displayed artifacts. Something about “nice comfy benches farther from the noise of the party in the eastern wing of the gardens” in Hunter’s voice filtered through the emotionally controlled fog of their brains, and they both looked towards the now-alluring eastern paths heading east, deeper into the gardens. 

She reached for her heels making to put them on again, but Echo snatched them up before she could do so. 

“Not on my watch, my Starlight. It looks to be paved with nice large, flat stones the whole way. You won’t need these anymore, if I have anything to do with it.” He offered his other arm to her, and she beamed as she allowed her hands to slip around his arm a little more sensually than she would have with any other man. 

As they walked, Hunter’s small talk with the target drew to a close, and Tech provided a status update. “92%, well done, Hunter. One momentary pass amongst the artifacts should be enough to complete the mission.” 

Upstairs, Hunter decided to bide his time. For the sake of his own cover, of course. It had nothing to do with the sexual tension he could practically feel radiating off of Echo and his date when they passed him at the elevator earlier. With his heightened senses, it was hard to miss. 

The walk to the garden benches was quiet and beautiful. The peaceful nature of the gardens felt like it deserved only the quietness of whispered voices as they strolled. Pointing out the glimpses of brilliantly colored plants lit by strings of lights that wove above and through the gardens. Vines wove patches of canopy overhead, punctuated by trees with broad leaves and arching branches. Low foliage spilled onto the edges of the large polished stone slabs they walked across. Reading off the names of plants that caught their eyes. 

Each one they read off was quickly researched by Tech, and rapidly followed by a summary of whether the plant was safe to touch and smell, and if the critters that harvested from it were dangerous or even present on this planet. By the sounds of it, many of the plants here were imported and had no natural predators here. 

As they reached the benches Hunter had spoken of, conversation became more and more sparse. They were certainly secluded. Far from prying eyes and only monitored by distant cameras. There was even soft music playing through hidden speakers. It was as if the host was aware of the handoff and had made the perfect spot for the handoff to take place. 

Well, too bad. They couldn’t use it for a handoff if it was already occupied by a preoccupied couple, now could they? 

Echo spoke up. “Since you four seem to have that last 8% or so handled from here, I think we will tune out for the night. We will keep this garden handoff site occupied for a while so it can’t be used by the opposition here. We will let you know if we run into trouble, but I don’t think anything in these gardens seems particularly dangerous. Catch you boys in the morning.” 

To keep up appearances, they had all decided to leave the ball at different times, and by different means. Echo and y/n would wait to rendezvous till the morning, just to be safe. Which meant that for the rest of the evening, they were off the hook. 

“Understood,” Tech chimed in, taking a moment to orchestrate their movements for the next few hours. “As planned, Crosshair will pick you both up from the hotel at noon tomorrow. Wrecker is on his way to the first meet up site for Crosshair now, and will return for Hunter shortly, before the expected end of the party. So, we shall see you both tomorrow.” 

Echo clicked a button on the side of his headset to turn off his comm, and saw her discreetly do the same via a button hidden in her pocket. 

Tapping his foot to the music playing, Echo stood back and watched as his date bent down to smell some flowers Tech had informed them were safe to humans. She looked beautiful and happy enjoying the scenery and luxury not usually afforded to them. 

So what if they were only here for a mission. Echo knew the importance of making the most of what life deals you, and he wasn’t about to let this moment slip away from him. He set down her shoes on a nearby bench and returned his attention to her. 

“Care to dance, my Starlight?” He asked, extending his hand in her direction. 

He enjoyed the look of delighted surprise on her face when she turnd his way. And he watched happily as she gracefully swooped across the space between them to take his hand. 

“I didn’t know they let troopers learn to dance.” She teased, hand gliding into his. Her steps so smooth, and her outfit so fluid, he felt as though she floated to him like an ethereal being. 

“Well, technically I don’t really know how, but you look so beautiful I had to try it. Just to see what all the hullabaloo was about.” He pulled her to his chest. Scomp arm settling at the small of her back, careful not to press the metal into her skin. 

“Well that’s lucky,” she giggled, “because I don’t actually know how to dance either. But I’ll gladly try anything, so long as your with me.” 

They continue to sway for a while, until the romantic setting gets to them. 

Echo’s hand cups her cheek, and slides back towards her ear. Gently, and discretely taking the earpiece from her ear, and moving it to her pocket, as his hand makes its way to her waist. 

When the kiss breaks, their foreheads meet, and he watches her hand slide down his chest, a flower she’d picked and had been toying with drops into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

His hands hold her waist. And he begins to let his hand squeeze her waist a bit and begin to slide towards her back. Finding the edge of the open patch at her back, he lets his fingers swirl patterns over the fabric and dance at the edge of the exposed skin of her back. 

She shivers and hums with delight, and Echo does everything he can to maintain appearances that he is an upstanding gentleman worthy of a lavish gala like this. If they weren’t here - oooh if they weren’t here - the things he wants to do with her. 

She can tell from the way his hand tightens around her hip that he’s right on the edge. This is one grip, she wouldn't mind leaving a mark for later. 

He swallows hard, and slowly allows his fingers to once again find the spot where the skin of her lower back peeks through. He’s delighted to find that she lets him continue exploring her like this, relaxing into him with every brush of his fingers. Her skin is so soft, and his hand shifts so that more and more of the opening at her back is covered by his hand. 

When the whole of his hand rests skin to skin, he presses her into his chest. His other arm, holding her upper back to him, gentle but confident that he wants this, and so does she. Not only is she allowing him this, the twinkle in her eyes, the way she’s panting, and the smirk on her lips is teasing him to keep going. 

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head down a touch, as he gazes into her eyes, as if to ask if she’s still okay with this. 

She beams, and nods once, her eyes never leaving his own. 

Slowly, carefully, he allows his hand to continue around her waist, until his fingers find the other side of the opening, and begin to slip beneath it. Echo is mesmerized by the way she breathes in happily, and leans her forehead against his, her gaze still magnetized to his own. His breathing gets faster as his fingers begin to slip between the fabric and her skin. 

She hums in contentment as his fingers continue their path to get to know her. Closing her eyes, she allows her head to tilt forward and settle on his chest. 

Echo hugs her tight, finally allowing himself to enjoy the realization that she really loves him, and maybe he can allow himself the luxury of loving her up close and not just from a distance anymore. So he stands there, her form wrapped tightly in his arms, his hand still resting between her skin and the dress, squeezing tightly to reassure them both that this is real. 

He loosens his grip after a few minutes, leaning back slightly. 

She notices and leans back a bit too, a concerned expression on her face. Hoping this isn’t Echo’s nerves pulling him away from her already. But what she finds instead, wipes all worry away. 

Half lidded eyes stare back into her own. And the cool metal of his scomp rises to bring her chin up towards his own, while his eyes move to her lips, and his own part. 

She smirks, and tilts her head to one side as her own gaze moves to his lips. Closing her eyes, as their lips finally meet. 

She presses into him, and he pushes back, melting at the way her lips fit between his like they belong there. He begins to move his lips against hers, and is delighted when she complies. The pressure from her lips against his own, a welcome push into a new world for the two of them. He is all too willing to learn her rhythm, not just that of her lips, and learn to dance through life by her side. 

All too soon, the clock bells ring through the night, declaring the end of tonight’s escapade. 

Slowly, they separate, still wrapped tightly together in the cool night air. 

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds a smile lighting up her whole being. She giggles and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Whoops!” She laughs, looking at the spot she just kissed. “Forgot I was wearing lipstick!” 

She pulls a small container from her pocket, and extracts a makeup wipe to brush at his cheek. Still smiling brightly, she moves to wipe at his lips. 

“I wouldn’t mind wearing your mark all night if you let me, my Starlight.” He laughs back. 

He didn’t think her smile could get any brighter, but it does. 

She leans forward, pressing her cheek to his so her lips are next to his ear. “Then let’s get back to the hotel room, Love, so I can take this makeup off and kiss you all night long.” 

“Yes Ma’am!” Echo breathes, a tingling excitement running from his core to his extremities. 

“But first lemme fix my lipstick.” She shifts in his arms, but doesn’t break out of them. Pulling a small mirror from her other pocket, and using the makeup wipe to fix the edges of her own lipstick enough to be seen as acceptable in the uppity company of a gala like this. 

Echo just watches while she does, certain he’s the happiest man in the galaxy right now. Reciprocating a kiss to her cheek and making her giggle again. That’s a sound he would never tire of hearing! 

As she tucks the items in her hand back into her pockets, and puts her troublesome shoes back on, she shivers. It had gotten rather chilly, and without Echo’s body heat wrapped around her as tightly as it had been, she was beginning to succumb to the chill. 

Echo hadn’t missed the small movement, and swooped his jacket off, wrapping it around her instead. It still carried his warmth she noticed, pulling it tighter around her shoulders. 

He remained practically attached at the hip the entire way to the hotel for the night. Taking every opportunity to just look at her, the gorgeous woman at his side, wrapped in his jacket. Making silent vows to himself the whole way. All the little things he wanted to make sure they experienced side by side every chance they got. 

He kept his hand in contact with her as much as he could along the way. And she enjoyed the warmth of being tucked into his side for the entirety of the journey. 

[NOW FEATURING a part 2 that picks up at the hotel, serving up a romantic evening for our favorite ARC and his gala date!]

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