#while she’s still cuffed

[emily-escott]

the return of the jedi shadow outfits

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[mayb4nk]

thinking about overstim with rafe, but it’s not how you think.

warnings: MDNI 18+, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, edging, handjobs (m receiving), praise, sub!rafe, mentions of good boy, dacryphilia if you squint, mommy kink, brief p in v, pink fuzzy handcuffs ☺️

“Shit, baby...” he groans as his hips buck into your hands. you've been teasing him for what feels like hours, your hands fast on his cock. he reaches for your hand to hopefully get you to halt. you tut, “stop it, Rafe.”as you use your free hand to grab his, pinning it to his side as his hips stutter.

Rafe had made you mad that day. you and he went on a date, and you saw how his eyes lingered on the waitress's skirt for too long, practically undressing her with his eyes.

“please, m'sorry…”he whines, letting out breathy moans. his right hand gripping the sheets while his left rests on his head. he gasps as unshed tears rest in his eyes, the sight causing your pussy to throb.

who knew that you'd have the Rafe Cameron whining and whimpering on your bed, all due to a bit of overstimulation. “are you really sorry, ray?” you purr as you speed up your movements on his thick cock, the wet 'Schlick!' noises fill the room.

“yes! yes, mommy! m'sorry, plea-e-ease..!”he whimpers as his legs shake and writhe underneath you, causing you to get angry and straddle him.

“rafe, stop it.” you warn as you squeeze the tip of his cock in your hands, making him whine. you can tell he's close by his moans increasing in volume. you smirk and get him right to that point of cumming before pulling off of him, letting out a sultry chuckle as he almost yelps.

“baby, please! please stop! i'm sorry!” out, tears now falling. you shake your head letting out a hearty giggle. “no, rafe. you weren't a good boy today, remember?” you coo as you look at him, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat.

he lets out a choked sob as your hands find his cock once again, slowly moving up and down, torturing him. his hips buck and grind into your hand, you almost feel bad. i mean, it's pathetic, really..

his fat tears still rolling down his face, back arched, hands gripping the sheets, and eyes rolling back. you decide to give in and give him what he wants, spitting on his cock and twisting your hand up and down, squeezing the tip like you know he loves.

“come on, rafe.. cum for mommy, you've earned it.” you say with a condescendingly sweet tone of voice, the one that rafe hates but won't admit the way it makes his cock twitch.

he moans loudly, jaw dropping as he cums. thick, white spurts of cum coat your hand. you're almost surprised at the amount of cum spills from his swollen, pink tip.

“ohhhh, good boy..” you mew before leaning down and licking a thick stripe up the base of his cock, gathering the cum in your mouth before swallowing. the lewd scene causes rafe to moan. “fuck, baby... y'trying to kill me?”he breathes out, chest falling up and down.

you giggle before grabbing his hands and some pink fuzzy handcuffs out of the bedside table, his eyes widen at the sight of what his sweet girl pulled out of the drawer.

you look at him with a smirk at his shocked look. “what? you think you’re done, baby?” you say before cuffing his hands to your bed frame and straddling him, sinking down on his hard cock.

‘this is gonna be a longggg night.’ he thought.

dts: @maybanksprincess (she saw it first <3)

[canihaveacalmtime]

Imagine yourself as the neglected youngest prince/princess of a powerful empire, after being deemed for harming the king's favorite child, you were sent to the underground dungeon to have you learn your lesson but that lesson which suppose to only long for 2 weeks turned into 2 years of torture for you.

So when the truth was revealed that it was a duke's family that was behind the attack of the king's favorite child, they remembered about you and realized that it's been two years since they last seen you, it just hits them hard the moment they knew that you were still in the dungeons.

When they arrived at your cell, they were devastated to see how brutally beaten up you are and you look like you haven't had any food for weeks, even months. Quickly, the king order that you be treated immediately and called the royal doctor.

As you lay limp on the bed in your new bedroom, the doctor said that your condition now is even worse than any othet patient the doctor has ever treated, worse than the knights who came back from war even and you are 10, only 10 years old. Your family can only pray for your recovery now while drowning themselves in guilt and regret.

One early morning, when your sister, the king's favorite child yeah, came to check on you and she almost cried when she saw you sitting on the bed, looking outside the window. You're awake and moving, so she immediately go and tell the others.

After that was the beginning days of all the family members to try and attempt to get your attention and fight each other over for who will be the one to pamper and take care of you. You on the other hand just doesn't budge from what they've been doing, it's like you are just a living body without a living soul.

Everyday, you have to hear them apologize to you, tell you sweet things and comfort you, try their best to lessen the wounds on your body and you're becoming sick of those things. You only want to know why they are wasting their time on you while they can just left you back in the maid headquarters where your old room is then left to rot in there, won't it be better?

So as a protest, you did the unthinkable, you tried to unalive yourself by jumping off of the balcony and let's just say they were not happy about that one bit.

At first, you just did it once so they make sure the maids will always have their eyes on you to prevent you from doing such things again until your second attempt comes with you tried to stab yourself with a piece of glass then another, then another and another. They were getting really tired of what you were doing and finally settled down to an agreement.

Make sure to don't be too panic when you wake up the next day to see your hands cuffed and the chain on your leg connect to the bed frame. Even when you tried to refuse to eat, they will just force feed you without making you hurt. Eventually, you snapped and broke down one day just screaming and crying at them, saying that why don't they just kill you already, you are so tired of everything and the pain never fade.

Your mother holds and kiss your face, making you not notice the syringe has been plugged into your neck as you slowly losing consciousness, the only thing you hear before blacking out was-

"You shall never leave our side, sweetheart. Even if the lengths we are going to keep you here is overdose, we just have no option left if you don't cooperate. Sleep tight, we love you."

[bunnylovesani]

An Arrangement

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

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

WC: 9.3k

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

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

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

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

“But Your Grace-!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Burn it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re on the Death Star, ma’am.” 

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

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

“He?”

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

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

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

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

“Tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” He remarks accusingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You…you’re-” You stutter.

“Not hideously deformed?”

“-beautiful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

“Then talk.” He taps his foot impatiently. 

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

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

“I don’t understa-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me Anakin.” He mumbles softly. 

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

“Having a good morning?” She asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve lost your mind.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you didn’t.” You sniffle.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh, do what?”

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

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

“You find me that handsome?”

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

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

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

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

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

“As if you care.” You huff.

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

“Please?” You moan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I bet you aren’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” He replies breathily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@erinkeifer @crazy4men @mortalheartache @arzua10

[vampiefemme]

Ellie being needy as hell so you tie her up with a vib while you work on your computer 🤗🤗

omg yes. exactly. exactly!!!!

you’ve been working nonstop lately, trying to finish up a presentation before a fast-approaching deadline. you’re snappier than usual and ellie notices, but she’s nothing if not needy - and she likes to push it sometimes. likes to be a brat, for lack of a better term. so even when she knows you’re trying to focus, typing away at your keyboard like your life depends on it, she finds ways to vie for your attention.

she crawls into your lap, kisses your neck and suckles at the sensitive spot she knows will drive you mad. with every interruption, every stolen kiss and whispered plea (just let me touch you, i’ll make you feel so good), she can tell your patience is wearing thin. and when she strolls into the bedroom post-shower, dropping the towel wrapped around her frame to reveal her damp, naked body, the last of that patience absolutely disappears.

“was it worth it, baby?” you coo down at her a few moments later, when you’ve got her where you want her: cuffed to the bed frame, gagged with your now-soiled panties. “hm? was it worth being such a bad girl, ellie?”

her hair clings to her temples, damp from the shower and her own sweat. she nods, moaning from behind the mouthful of your panties, and you smile down at her as her eyes roll back from the sensation of the vibrator you’ve pressed to her clit. the vibrator you’ve taped to her thigh in just the right spot to keep it against her sensitive bundle of nerves - no hands necessary. thank god, because you need to get back to work.

you turn your back to your girlfriend, her naked body writhing on the mattress, and return to the desk at the corner of the room. the hum of the vibrator is a nice white noise; you find it actually keeps you focused. and oh, ellie’s moans - they’re music to your ears. the sounds she makes certainly have you pressing your thighs together at your desk, but you’ve got a presentation to complete. you don’t let her distract you - not when you can hear the muffled sound of her calling your name, not when her pleased moans turn into gasps and shrieks, then back into moans again. you’re not sure how many times she comes… just that, when you’ve finally finished your presentation and can return your attention to ellie, she’s a panting mess. and there’s a wet spot on the mattress. and she’s still begging for more.

[abslvr111]

police officer wife!abby anderson

cw. wlw (men dni), smut, nipple sucking, bondage (cuffs), riding abby’s strap, no outbreak au, (slight) size kink, this comes from my love of hot female police officers 💀 also haven’t posted in a bit sry sry gotta new kitten so i’ve been busy <33 + maybe a tiny bit cringe ngl 🥱

sum. riding cop abby’s strap while she’s cuffed and you’re wearing a slutty police outfit 😖

wc. 842 (wc goes up when it abby y’all 🤞)

you meet abby at a minor traffic stop, pure muscle under her police uniform as she walks up to your car window, you look at her in awe (expecting her to be some middle-aged dick officer— not eye candy), until you start to get bashful: remembering your pulled over by her.

you forgot to turn on your signal, she’s smirking by the time she heads back to her cruiser to run your information, and she writes you a warning— as well as her number. you can’t help but smile when you read the paper, happy to text her once you got home.

your first date goes perfectly and by the second one she has you laid out on her bed, you can remember your first time with her like it was yesterday— your memories stay vivid when abby’s in them.

you fall into a nice routine with her, waking up to her big arms around your waist, hugging you close from behind, warm lips pressing soft kisses to your neck as you blink sleep from your eyes.

you’ll watch her get ready as you slowly wake up, eyeing her as she puts on her blue uniform, smirking at the cuffs on her belt, you eventually get up to start your morning routine with her.

she teaches you how to shoot a gun, her front pressed up against your back as she holds your smaller hands in her bigger ones, she helps you aim the firearm, and your fingers touch, wedding bands clashing together, abby loves every second of your shared target practice.

abby thinks it’s cute, this is the first time you’ve put on a costume for her, lingerie, sure. but not this, you’re dressed in a slutty cop uniform— if you could even call it that (the only cop aspect being your blue hat), dark blue bra showing off your tits matching lace thong clinging to your hips, and showing off your figure nicely. black fishnets go up your legs, they look good against your thighs she thinks, sharp heels ready to be kicked off are on your feet, and a pair of fuzzy black handcuffs in your right grasp complete your outfit.

she’s used cuffs on you before, but never have you used them on her, she can’t help but smirk from her place on the bed, amused by what you have planned.

“is something funny ma'am?” you say, tone authoritative as you make your way to her.

“not at all officer,” she says teasingly, playing along with your game.

“are you sure? because i think you need to be cuffed.” you’re holding the fuzzy cuffs up to her eye level now, you continue, “and punished.” your stance is almost dominant but abby’s still almost taller than you even sitting on the bed, it’s adorable in her eyes.

she puts her hands out in front of her, complacent as you slip the soft loops around her wrists. when you’re done she lets her hands drop to her lap, making herself comfortable sitting at the edge of the bed.

you’re smiling cheekily as you begin to unzip her pants pulling her pants off, needy as ever you’re already straddling her lap, inches away from grinding on the strap below her boxers.

abby’s hands come up to bring both cups of your bar down, revealing your tits to her greedy eyes, her lips immediately begin sucking at your nipple, earning a whimper from you, she’s squeezing your other breast with her hand. now you’re sitting properly on her lap, grinding yourself across her cock, your fingers weave through the back of her scalp, putting minimal pressure on the back of her head.

you pull the band of her boxers down just enough for her strap to spring free, you rub your pussy over the silicon coating it with your slick, slowly, you bring the tip to your entrance, easing yourself down onto till you hit the base, moaning as you do.

abby draws away from your chest, her lips and tongue on yours as you begin bouncing yourself on her, setting a steady pace for yourself. her fingers pinch at your nipples, it makes you whine moving yourself faster on her lap, you drag your fingers to over your clit rubbing fast circles.

abby parted from your kiss, you looked so pretty above her, she felt herself get wetter by the second while she watched you, she might have to let you do this more often, watching you get yourself off on her after she gets off a long shift was nice.

she felt your thighs start to get wobbly, your orgasm approaching, the little blue hat on your head tilts to the side as your pace increases and gets rougher.

you’re grinding down on her as you cum, leaning on her as you do, you’re flipped to your back before you can catch your breath, a snap rattles in your ears as abby breaks the cheap fluffy cuffs, she’s smirking down at you, and you know you’re in for a long night.

[pseudowho]

18+, PWP, based on this delicious NSFW Twitter Link

The lovely @g00miato has now done smutty artwork based on my imagining of this! You should find it on Patreon, where she is very reasonably priced, and very generous with requests...

Hiromi wasn't sure how he had ended up in the position he was; still suited, dishevelled, and unzipped just enough for his throbbing cock and balls to be released, strapped to a chair by his arms and legs. Bound. Immobilised. At the mercy of some vengeful goddess. The tie across his chest fluttered beneath his needy panting.

"...I'm sure--" Hiromi swallowed thickly, unconvincing in his self-assurance, "-- I'm sure it can't be that strong...I'll hold out."

"...really? I give you...two minutes. Maximum."

"--fuck-- shit--...anything, my love. Anything. Don't-- don't leave me like this-- please--"

Eyes blown, and panting in anticipation as his cockhead wept sticky rivulets down his belly, Hiromi's breaths fluttered to watch you approach him with the vibrator he usually used on you; a wand so powerful it often left his palm numb while he held it between your legs. It was usually Hiromi watching you squirm, pinning you down while you went to heaven and back; not the other way around.

You knelt in front of him, your obsessive fascination bone-deep, desperate to see him fall apart in front of you. Desperate to watch. The camera set before Hiromi, proved you would continue to be desperate to watch...again, and again, and again. Hiromi swallowed once more, his tongue claggy as he imagined you pleasuring yourself to his seed spilling across his belly, bound and twisting, his voice muffled against the--

"Open up," you whispered, tasting his mouth just one more time before you filled it. Hiromi chased your lips with a whine as you pulled away, his back arching, snatching his waist in as the chair creaked against his straining arms. With a whimper and a buck, Hiromi felt you cram his tie into his mouth, rolled up and muffling his cries.

Hiromi tried to curse, his groans suppressed by the silky fabric, when you lowered your mouth to his cock, slick, and hot, and lubricating him in one smooth deepthroat from tip, to balls, and back again. Hearing Hiromi's muffled cries of ecstasy above you, feeling his thick thighs and corded forearms strain against his bonds, set your heart racing.

You ached to watch it back, to drink down his glossy eyes, the twitching micro-expressions colouring the very soul of him onto film. You stroked one thumb over his strained lower lip, eyelashes fluttering as he looked up to you in reverence. You whispered to him.

"God, you're gonna look so pretty, cumming all over your suit..."

You slid the silicone sleeve over Hiromi's cock, feeling it twitch and leap in your hands as you pressed the head of the wand in place just beneath his tip. Anticipation had already taken Hiromi half the way, and your hands were dripping with his arousal before you had even begun. Hiromi choked out a whine as you looked into his eyes, licking your fingers clean.

With a remote control in your hand, and the persistent low-level thrum of a vibrator in your panties, you stepped back to survey your handiwork; one desperate, gagged, suited man, frayed and bound against a chair, about to be milked for every last drop of cum.

Sitting behind the camera, you bit your lip, your own pleasure warm, low and constant. Watching would take you the rest of the way. The anticipation hung for just long enough for Hiromi to make a muffled noise of complaint-- before you set the wand vibrating against his reddening cockhead.

The vibrations burst through Hiromi in a haze of pleasure. He roared, muffled by the tie, his head thrown back with another bellow, and his fingers splaying outwards. You gasped under your breath, squirming as he squirmed, biting your lip as his head threw forwards, his eyes glossy and beseeching.

Hiromi had never been thrown so viciously into pleasure, his mind wiped blank by the vibration, cuffed against the underside of his cock, and forcing him to fuck his lubricated length up through the sleeve, with what little motion his bonds gave him.

It had been forever, and no time at all, by the time he felt the wildfire burn throughout his loins, warning him of impending orgasm. Hiromi almost sobbed, twisting and straining, his whines and cries for his peak growing louder and more desperate by the second.

You edged yourself, one finger between your teeth, watching for the safeword stamping foot that your husband never gave. Your pupils dilated, to see his balls clench, dragging up towards the base of his cock, semen loaded for what would surely be the most exquisite ejaculation you had ever witnessed.

Hiromi was so blinded by unholy bliss, he didn't notice when cum began to spill down his black trousers, a few weak slugs dripping out, before his orgasm caught up, hitting him like a sledgehammer behind the navel. Hiromi shouted through his tie, moans drawn and husky, staccato with gluey white seed spurting in heavy slugs up his suit, rendering patches of his crisp white shirt transparent, sticking to his belly. He convulsed, a messy, twitching wreck.

Overstimulation made him shiver, thick dribbles of cum continuing to be milked out of him, collecting at the rim of the cock sleeve, before sliding, viscous and creamy, into his zipper, down to his thighs, splatting onto the seat and floor beneath him. Hiromi's hangdog eyes begged you, his hips still trying to fuck his seed up into a vessel that wasn't there.

You hadn't expected to cum through such little physical stimulation, but the visual stimulation sliced through the very viscera of you. You rolled through your peak, grinding your thighs together, tangling your fingers in your hair. Hiromi stared, moaning, at your blissfully parted lips, a few final spurts of cum leaving his pulsing tip, just from the vision you presented.

After a few more seconds of his weak little pants, you slowed the vibrator down, and down, and down, bringing Hiromi down, and down, and down with it. You watched him slump, held up only by his bonds. You walked to him with wobbling legs, turning the recording off on the way.

You pulled the damp tie from his mouth, cupping his cheeks, shushing him as you thumbed drips of sweat away from his temples.

"That was amazing," you praised him, his cheekbones flushing with your joy, " you looked amazing."

Hiromi panted, weak in your palms, and offering a crooked little smile; "...'m sorry I'm...I'm late all the time...hope that helps, when I'm-- when I'm not here..."

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It��s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[playnextdoor]

Take it off

summary: fwb!sub!abby x reader

warnings: fwb! abby, mentions of marijuana usage, sub! abby, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus, making out, fingering, needy abby because it's my favorite. proof read-ish. lmk if i missed anything

Fall time was the best time. The stuffy, clammy summer air is gone, and the brisk fall air enters your lungs. The sound of the crunchy leaves under your feet, warm drinks, and smoke seshes in your nice, warm home. You love it. 

But.. it also means cuffing season, and you weren't getting any of that because Abby decided to stop seeing you. You know you are not supposed to get attached while being friends with benefits, but fucking hell, it was Abby for crying out loud. It was normal for Abby to ghost you for 2-3 days, but a whole week? The beginning of the season has been shit for you.

You set up your nightly, ritually smoke sesh in your room. Sitting down on your cozy floor table, convenient for times like these, you start preparing your spread. Rolling papers that left a lingering taste of strawberries, the grinder that you decorated with stickers, your lucky lighter that is always with you, and finally, your precious herb that was in a small glass jar. You put on your favorite show and start getting comfortable until you hear Abby’s signature two knocks. You feel your heart drop literally to your ass. You wait for about 2 minutes until you listen to it again.

Knock, knock.

“Are you fucking kidding me..” you mutter, pushing the table as you stretch your legs. Grabbing the first item of clothing in your hamper, you slip on a hoodie and quickly walk to the door. Opening the door where you meet a deliciously looking blonde-haired girl. Hair out of her braid and shorts that accentuate the muscles on her thighs. She looks too good, and she knows it.

“What do you need?” you said, not even a hello and not even opening the door all the way. Abby puts her arm in the doorway.

“Aw, did you miss me?” she asks, using her body weight to push the door open, pushing you with it. She lets herself inside, already looking around your living room.

“C’mon, Abby. What do you need? You want to call us off for a week and show up at my house without letting me know?” You say as you close the door, following her into your living room. You instantly regret letting this woman back into your home again. The smell of her pine body wash, the sandalwood perfume she wore, and the warmth she emitted from her was enough to open your arms(or your legs) to her again.

“The thing is..” Abby starts, but as she sits on the couch, a sly smirk creeps on her face. You bite your bottom lip, aware of the effect Abby has on you, so if she smiles, you can’t help but smile.

“Take it off,” Abby says, making herself comfortable by spreading her legs, seeing how her shorts ride up and can get a peek of her baby blue spandex shorts. You feel your face warm up, trying to keep your eyes above her waist.

“E-excuse me?” was all you could say as you stared at her in disbelief. 

She raises her eyebrows. “That hoodie,” she says, pointing to the exact hoodie you had on. “I came to get it back with a few of my other things.”

Shit.

“Look, I'm sorry,” sighing to mostly yourself. Abby reminded you that she wanted her stuff back, and because of the sudden disconnect between you two, you didn’t have the time. You took a moment to look around you, seeing if there were any remnants of her presence still lingering in your home. “I haven't done any laundry and just grabbed whatever was in my hamper. Tomorrow, I'll have a look around.”

Abby shakes her head with that same stupid smirk on her face. She flips her hair to the side and loosens the neck of her hoodie collar Was she hot..?

“No. I want you to take it off. Right now,” She says in that tone that you're familiar with. A deep, dulcet, yet desperate. 

You feel this fluttering hurt in your stomach, the good kind. You haven’t slept with anyone since Abby, and she looks like she needs you…

Fuck it.

You grab the bottom of the hoodie, lifting it and revealing your naked top half. Your skin litters with goosebumps, feeling the slight chill air around you, but the warm liquid swimming in your belly is another thing. You see the light pink blush painting Abby’s cheeks as you toss the hoodie. Fuck she’s so cute. Abby catches it but tosses the hoodie to the side and yanks your hand as you fall on top of her. 

“Abby!” you let out a small yelp as she melts her lips to yours. The way Abby was kissing you was enough to tell you that this girl was needy. Hertongue finds yours, teeth clashing, letting out small, quiet moans and whines as her grip on your arm tightens. You break the kiss, taking a good look at her glossy lips, her eyes drooped with arousal, and how her hair is already mused.

“And you said that I missed you? Look at you, poor baby.” You whisper in the space between the two of you, letting your lips linger but not enough for the needy girl below you to get another taste. 

Abby’s eyes widen for a second, opening her mouth to say something but closing it with a flustered face.

“You missed me so much,” You say as your hand creeps up on the muscular thigh, so close to where she needs you. She shifts, wanting to get you between her legs, but you’re already one step ahead of her. You move your knee, having good pressure against Abby that has her slightly bucking her eager hips. “That you came over to get a stupid sweater?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrow, and she shakes her head. This cute, puzzled look on her face makes you want to bury her in kisses, but you’re supposed to be mad at her. You lean back into her lips, biting, sucking, anything that works her up. Abby is putty below you. She lets out these moans that you’ve never heard before, high-pitched mewls that make you bite her lip harder. Your hand creeps up her thigh, up into the crewneck, and you are met with her bare, sensitive chest, rising and falling rapidly  You smile into the kiss, not wanting to embarrass her even more for coming over prepared. You grope her chest, fondling with the fat that lay there and playing with the pebbling nipple. Abby breaks the kiss, inhaling sharply.

“Ah- please.” She gasps, bucking her hips again. This was a completely different side of her. Abby has received from you, and she is pretty vocal in bed, but this fucking submissive? It makes you want to deprive her for weeks on end. You break the kiss, hurridly helping Abby take off her crewneck and attaching your mouth to her boob. Circling your tongue around the rose-colored nipple has Abby holding her breath. After a few minutes of playing with her chest, you trail kisses down to the navel. You didn’t even have to ask, as Abby was quick to slip her shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the living room.

“Mmm, needy, aren’t we?” looking into her eyes as you mutter against her hip bone, skin almost feverish to how warm she was. Abby rolls her eyes, the sass still somehow in her.

“Fuck yes, ok? Please, baby,” Abby whines, throwing her head back onto the couch armrest. She reveals her neck, sweat droplets cascade slowly, accentuating the veins that played there. Fingers are dancing up her leg, in between where you see how desperate her cunt is. Glistening, soft pink flesh and her musk have you blacking out slightly. 

“I want you to look at me, Abby.” You said, patting her thigh to grab her attention as you met with her eyes. It’s as if she was god himself. Her fucked out expression made you clench around nothing.

“Good girl” was the last thing you said as you stuck your tongue out and licked a fat stripe of her pussy. Abby can't help but close her eyes, too overwhelmed by your teasing tongue. 

“Nuh uh, look at me. I want you to watch, baby,” putting your tongue away, smoothing her shaking thighs over with your hands. She nods eagerly, raking her hair out of her face. You bite back a smile before diving in again. Spreading her open with your mouth, Abby was so wet. Slick coating your chin, you move your hand over to pull back her clit to kiss it. Moans strung out from the blonde above, not caring how loud she was getting. She grabs your hair and makes a satisfying pull to your scalp that has you groaning into her cunt. You alternate between sucking, licking, sucking, licking. Your head is spinning as you prop yourself on your elbows, applying the pressure of two fingers dancing on her clit, your jaw feeling sore. Smiling at the cute, blissed-out expression on Abby’s face makes you want to be between her legs all night. 

“Are you close?” you ask, voice hoarse after not speaking for the last 3 minutes. Abby doesn't dare to open her eyes, knowing that if she makes eye contact with you, she’ll come too fast. She nods, eyebrows furrowed as she nibbles on her swollen bottom lip from the constant biting she does. You allow it this time, allowing Abby to take in the euphoric blooming in her stomach. You really shouldn’t, wishing you had prolonged her orgasm as a punishment for ghosting you and making you suffer every night. 

“Come for me, baby, yeah? Show me how bad you want this” Famous last words before you attached your mouth back onto her clit, switching your finger to easily slip into her. Pumping your index finger in a “come hither” motion, feeling her clench around you. 

“Fuck fuck, please, I’m coming. K-keep-ah-doing that,” She hisses as her body seizes, fingers gripping so good in your scalp. Strong thighs clamp around your head as you lazily lick at her rosy clit with a grin.

Who knew Abby could be so fucking needy?

a/n: heyyyyyyy, sorry i was on hiatus for a while. i suddenly got the motivation to write, so do what you will with this

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Lost drafts…

Erik Killmonger HARDCORE SMUT.

Within the year they were married, Erik attempted to get his wife to deep throat him. She did on occasion give very wonderful slurping sessions, but she’d always been afraid to take him all the way in. Erik’s ten inch dick was a lot to handle. She’d just gotten used to it in her pussy, now she needed to get her throat and ass acquainted. During their play sessions, she would let him gag her with his fingers. But, Erik had a big fetish for keeping his women gaged and having her deep throat his dick. He kept a hidden file on his laptop in his home office of vids of women deepthroating and wearing gags.

After a long day in the office, Erik entered his home to find it ignited by candlelight. Inching in further, loosening his tie and cuffing his sleeves, he found his way into their dining room to find Tyra, his wife, dressed in deep-purple lingerie. A plate of what looked like brown stewed chicken with rice and peas awaited him. She stood from her seat with those generous curves to greet him. They French kissed and she broke the kiss to take off his jacket.

“Baby, what’s all this about?” Erik questioned with excitement laced in his voice.

“I want to cater to you…here, daddy, have a seat.”

Erik waited for her to pull his chair out and when he sat down, Tyra got down on her knees and started removing his loafers. He watched her with a penetrating stare and his thick lips turned up into a smile. The stress on his face when he’d initially walked in was replaced with admiration.

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik said.

“I want you to relax. You work so hard, daddy. You spoil me…love me…respect me…how can I not return the favor?”

Erik arched a brow at her, “Hmm…I do…but you must want something. Whatchu want, wifey?”

She giggled. Erik could see right through her. He ain’t mad at it, he just knows his woman. That’s why he works so hard. He thoroughly enjoys spoiling his wife and giving her the life she deserves.

"…I found your hidden vids. I’m not mad, but I will bet you the new car I want that I can learn to deep throat you in a week and you can gag me with a six-inch penis gag whenever you want," Tyra said giving Erik a devilish smile.

His eyes became saucers as he stared down at her. She’d went snooping in his office and found his XXX files on his laptop. Hardcore throat-fucking vids. That’s what Erik wanted to do to her. Fuck her throat with his fingers tangled in her hair. Watch the way her tears streamed from her eyes. Cover her with spit. Pound her throat out with nowhere to run.

She pushed his chair back and started to unbuckle his belt. Erik didn’t hesitate to raised up so she could slip his slacks down to free his suddenly rock-hard dick. Erik watched her pretty face while she took in the sight of his big daddy dick. Looking up into his eyes, Tyra wrapped her hand around his rigid girth and popped that fat tip between her glossy lips. Erik hissed, his low, wanton eyes watching Tyra bob her head up and down, bumping the head of his dick against the entrance to her throat. She gagged each time slightly.

“Tyra, you sure you can get all this dick down your throat in just a week? You had a whole year to master this shit.” Erik teased.

She popped her lips off of his dick to speak, “I want that car.”

“Hm, I can see that,” Erik replied with a lick of his lips.

He tilted his head while sipping his wine, watching her do her thing. His mocha eyes would trail up and down, tracking the movement of her snug lips wrapped around his veiny girth. She twisted her lips and tightened them even more, causing Erik’s nut sack to pulse.

“Fuck, Tyra…come on,” Erik palmed the back of her head, “Still got some more dick to go, ma. Open that fuckin’ throat up.”

She gagged and Erik held her there, testing her to see how long she could take it. He would chuckle to himself whenever she came up gasping for air. Each time that fat dick returned to her mouth, Erik would anchor his hips upward to reach her throat. She pushed at his thighs as a jerk reaction. Erik tapped her cheek with a glint in his eyes.

“Don’t piss me off or ima spank that ass real good…Tyra, don’t pop your lips off my dick, I’m not gon’ say it again…”

Erik’s upper teeth dragged across his bottom lip from the sensation of Tyra constantly gagging on his dick. Her warm, wet mouth tugging over and over made his balls pulsate and his dick throb. He couldn’t control it now. Erik sat up and tightened his grip on the back of her head, using her throat for his own pleasure now. He anchored his hips and thrust into her mouth, balls to chin.

Guck guck guck guck guck guck

“I’m cumming…”

Erik came all too soon, flooding her mouth with cum. Trya swallowed him down and then kissed his tip.

"So, do we have a deal?” She asked after making a show of swallowing his cum, sticking her tongue far out.

"Maybe. What car are we talking about?” Erik inquired with a little smile on his face.

"A pretty pink Bentley Continental of course."

"…So, the deal is if you can learn to deep throat this dick in less a week, then I buy you the Bentley and I get deep throat sessions as often as I want and you will let me gag you as often as I want also?"

"Yes, no limits." Tyra replied.

"That's a lot of car for deep throating and you wearing a gag. I could hire a high priced escort for twenty years for less than that," Erik teased.

Tyra pouted. She was still jacking Erik’s dick with her small hand. He couldn’t believe how hard he was.

"Daddy, please? I can start tonight. I ordered the gag already. I can start wearing it tonight with a soft dildo to practice with. Next Saturday you tie me up and face fuck me as often as you can get it up."

She was begging him. Erik loved to watch her beg.

"Ok, deal," He told her.

His dick was at full attention again, and Tyra took it back in her mouth following her hand with her mouth. Using her tongue on the head, she managed to get Erik to cum again and harder this time. Erik felt her swallow each shot of cum as it erupted from his fat dick. Tyra made a production of cleaning his softened dick before letting it pop out of her mouth.

Over the next few days, Tyra sucked Erik off twice every night. They had a routine where she waited on the floor outside of the shower for his clean dick to enter her mouth, and then a final time before bed with her head hanging over the edge. During the day while Erik was at the office, Tyra sent him short vids of her practicing deep throating the silicone dildo. She was doing so well. Erik couldn’t believe her progress.

For the next few days, Tyra wore the short dildo gag the rest of the time. Each night when Erik arrived home from work, she would slowly remove the gag she was wearing and give him slow, sensual head, taking his dick deep for a few seconds at a time. Soon, it was Friday morning and Tyra had breakfast ready since Erik got home from the gym. He showered and she knew to be right there to service him like a good slut.

“You know it’s time to go up a size, Princess…”

Erik revealed a larger dildo gag for Tyra. It was two inches smaller than Erik.

“You had enough practice with that little shit. Time to really open that throat up.”

Erik didn't give her a chance to speak before he forced the silicone dildo down her throat just far enough that she could still breathe through her nose. She didn't turn away and let Erik push the dildo into her throat as far as it could go.

"Don't push it out. Follow me into the kitchen and kneel on the floor while I eat." Erik said.

Damn, what a kinky sight. The silicone dildo dangled out of her mouth with her body mostly naked and arms trapped in the armbinder. Erik ate his breakfast while his dick bounced and twitched between his toned thighs. While eating, Erik multitasked, taking the silicone dildo and fucking her mouth and throat with it. He watched her throat bulge around it as he forced it in and out. Tyra fought her gag reflex, coughing and drooling.

"Take a deep breath, I’m timing how long you can keep it down your throat." Erik said.

Tyra sucked a breath in, and Erik pushed the dildo in watching her throat bulge. Just moving it in and out a small amount. She started to gag after about 20 seconds, saliva coming out her nose. Erik pulled it out, grabbing a towel to clean her up. He soothed her and kissed her while giving her sips of water.

"You have to stay calm and not panic if you want that Bentley, baby,” Erik spoke softly.

Erik gave Tyra a break for the remainder of the day until nightfall. Erik’s lust eventually overcame his reason and he fucked her face fast and hard, long dick style until he pumped his whole load deep into her spasming throat. Cum and saliva shot out her mouth, her gagging music to his ears. He didn’t want to but he knew he needed to pull out and tend to her. Tyra sucked in a deep breath, leaning against the wall panting and trying to catch her breath. Erik wiped her face and the bathroom floor with a towel.

Suck, suck, suck. Tyra was determined. She showed Erik her mouth full of cum before swallowing it each time, making sure to lick him clean. Erik felt she was more than ready now, but he would wait. Even if it meant that he would be tossing and turning in bed to the thought of using her throat however he pleased. They went to sleep and soon, it was Saturday. Throughout the day they did things around the house but the sight of her walking around in just a thong and titties bouncing was driving Erik crazy.

“Tyra! Come up here! You know what I want!”

Erik shouted for her from the top steps, naked with his third leg pointed straight out. Tyra was in the middle of cleaning the living room. She walked over to the steps and peered up at Erik.

“Let’s go, time to fit that ring gag around your mouth.”

She climbed the stairs, Erik turning to walk away. They entered the room and Erik faced her fully now.

“Suck this dick like a nasty bitch, Tyra. Down. On your knees…”

Tyra hit the floor eagerly, waiting for Erik to gag her. In the closet, Erik returned with the ring gag and an arm-binder. Tyra’s eyes lit up like Christmas. She placed her arms behind her back and allowed Erik to secure her arms since she had no use for them at the moment. Deep throating with no hands was the only way.

"You still game with this?"

“Yes, daddy. I want that pretty pink Bentley. Punish my throat with that big, daddy dick,” Tyra croaked out in between gasps.

She opened her mouth to accept it. Erik worked the gag in and out of her gaping mouth a few times, getting it coated in saliva. He slowly forced it down her throat. It was a bit bigger in diameter than her silicone dildo, so Eirk had to push a bit before it slipped into her throat. It had a hole through it so she could breathe and plug if Erik wanted to cut off her breathing. He could see her throat contracting as she fought her gag reflex. Tyra squeezed her eyes shut, her face registering her discomfort as he worked each inch into her throat. Finally, the base rested against her chin.

"You ok do I need to take it out?"

She shook her head NO. Erik could see her gagging, drool dripping from her chin. Tears are streaming from her eyes, her nose running drool dripping off her chin. Erik pulled it out part way and fucked her throat with it a few times, watching it move in her throat.

She gave him her doe eyes and fought down the panic of not being able to breathe, controlling her gag reflex. She would not have a gag reflex after today. Tyra’s eyes started to water at 25 seconds. Erik let her have a breath at 30 seconds. He waved his finger over the hole. Tyra sucked in a breath and nodded her head, and Erik blocked the hole. He pushed her head back and traced the bulge the gag was making in her throat with his fingers. She had a small mouth, her lips stretched tight around the gag. The bulge it was making in her throat felt larger than it looked.

"Such a beautiful sight that bulge in your throat. Is it uncomfortable?"

She nodded that is was.

"And your still game," Erik asked, a brow arched in amazement at her determination.

Sam nodded ‘yes’.

Erik had enough. She was ready. More than ready. He popped that ring gag out of her mouth slowly. He allowed Tyra to catch her breath for a while, giving her water and throat massages.

“You deserve that car, mama. You’ve been such a good girl for daddy. Now, it’s my turn to have my way with you…”

Erik helped Tyra onto her feet and he picked her up, carrying her to the bed. He placed her on her back and then dangled her head over the edge of the bed. Erik straddled her head and his fat dick hung over her face, his tip leaking pre cum onto her lips. She opened wide and Erik crouched down, a hand on her chest for leverage. His dick disappeared down her throat inch by agonizingly slow inch. Erik set a leisurely pace, watching his dick move in her throat.

“Mmmm, such a good girl. You’re doing so well. I’m finally all the way in your throat now…”

Tyra could only close her eyes and take it.

Ahhh….uhhhh…mmmm….hmmmm…fuuuckkkk…

Erik circled his hips to feed her throat more hefty dick. His balls smushed against her forehead when he leaned over her to face fuck her. Slowly, he increased the tempo of his movements. Erik stared down at her barely covered, fat puss while ramming her throat with big ass dick. He couldn’t help but to slip her panties to the side and give her pussy some attention. He slipped two thick fingers inside of her while sucking her clit. He withdrew his hips from her mouth to allow her to breath. She gasped, and then a series of moans followed.

“Erik, yes, just like that! Mm!”

Erik lifted her hips from the bed and sucked on her pussy. Tyra went back to eating his dick up. Erik’s thick lips would pop off her clit and his fingers worked her hole up to a creamy mess.

“Daddy, make your pussy cum! Make your pussy cum!” Tyra cried out with a hoarse voice.

Erik frantically flipped over, brought Tyra’s knees to her ears, and slurped away. She forced his face further between her plump lower lips, rubbing his nose in it. Erik loved it when she did that. He gave her clit some serious tongue action that had her toes curling and eyes twitching. With her release, she threw that pussy in his face and Erik watched her with a smirk.

“Fuck! I’m cumming!” She shouted.

Fist full of his locs, Tyra trapped his face with her thighs. Erik came up for air and his wet dick still long and thick bounced with excitement. Erik pushed her legs back again with her ankles in his firm grip. His dick pushed past her opening and he tilted her body upwards so she had no where to run while he dug that pussy out.

“Deep in your shit, baby? Hm?” Erik spoke with a hushed tone.

Tyra’s mouth is agape.

“Daddy all the way in there? Huh?”

She could only nod her head.

He picked up the pace and his hips snapped into hers harder. Her mouth unhinged and her eyes crossed.

“There you go…gimme that pussy…gimme that pussy…”

Tyra closed her eyes and her entire body convulsed beneath Erik. He didn’t stop. She could do all that moving around, Erik simply threw her legs over his shoulders and pounded her into the mattress. The sound of wet pussy and ball-slapping filled the room. Tyra sat up on her elbows to kiss Erik and their tongues thrashed while he drove his dick deeper. They stared each other down, occasionally looking between them at the sight of Erik’s dick filling her wet, slutty hole.

“You’re such a nasty bitch, Princess,” Erik sucked her lower lip into his mouth before nibbling on it, “I’m about to put you on your stomach.”

“Unh,” Tyra pouted her lip, “Right there…”

She came again. Erik kissed her neck before slowly slipping out. He didn’t wait for her to get into position because he was doing it himself. Tyra arched her back and Erik popped her on the ass before he was sinking inside of her sweet walls again. 

“Stay on that dick, Tyra…”

Erik bounced Tyra’s pussy off his dick repeatedly. sharp, gut-stimulating, strokes. Tyra looked back at Erik with those sultry eyes. He locked eyes with her and grabbed her by her hair.

“Fuck my slutty, pussy…it’s your hole to fuck…I’m your nasty bitch!”

“Yeah? This my wet, fuckin’ hole?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

“Nasty, fuckin’ bitch…”

“Keep putting that dick right there…I’m cumming again…oooh!”

Tyra’s body seized up. Erik pushed all the way in so he could feel the way her walls gripped with her release. They both sigh in unison. He wasn’t through with her. He fixed her arch and picked up like he never stopped. With no hands, Erik tilted his hips and fed her pussy some more dick. Tyra gripped the sheets and moaned.

“Fuck me with that big dick! Unh! Cum in my pussy!”

Back and forth Erik popped her ass with his hand. He could feel himself getting ready to explode. He’s definitely cumming in that pussy. Giving her a baby in her womb and that Bentley. Two gifts for being such a good girl.

“You want a baby in you?! Huh?!”

“Fuck a baby in me, daddy!”

Erik went harder.

“Mhm…mhm…keep that puss right there! Ima bust this shit wide open and nut deep in this pussy, Princess!”

With two wild thrusts, Erik shot off into her pussy, hips pistoning. All Tyra could do is moan. His dick slowly slipped out to the tip. Tyra looked back at him with furrowed brows and a bit of her lip. Erik stared down at his dick pulsating with his release. The tip of his dick was still inside of her.

“‘Mmm, get all that thick nut in me, Hubby…”

Erik looked down at her with a sexy, dimpled smirk.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Mom and Dad Are Still Fighting

Part 2 of The Bradfords

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader

Summary: After a long night, you're grateful for Lucy and all she does for you. You continue protecting her from Tim's attitude, even though you're lying to them.

Warnings: mostly fluff, brief angst, threats and robbery. typical rookie stuff.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: I love this dynamic!! Two Bradfords caring about Lucy in their own ways is so fun to write (and being married to Tim is a dream by itself). I will continue abusing Chenford gifs for this storyline lol.

“Good morning, Mom,” Lucy calls as she enters the bullpen. 

She passes you a cup of your favorite drink, and you look at Tim quickly. He tilts his chin to the side, and you nod once. You’ve been talking without speaking for years, and you’re more grateful than ever for your silent language.

“Thank you so much, Lucy,” you say.

You pull her into a hug that lasts longer than usual. She couldn’t know that you had a long night and needed this today: the drink and the hug. Hence, your shared ‘did you tell her?’ ‘no, she just cares’ look shared with Tim.

“Where’s mine?” Tim inquires with his brows raised.

“I, uh, I didn’t know your order,” Lucy says carefully. “Sorry.”

Angela calls for you, and you thank Lucy again as you walk away. Tim watches you go; he knows you aren’t feeling great and appreciates Lucy’s care on your behalf.

“Thanks, Chen,” he says.

“For what? I didn’t get you anything.”

“You should know that caring about her is the same as caring about me. At least as far as I’m concerned,” he answers. “Now get ready.”

Your long night catches up to you quickly. By your mid-morning break, you’re feeling tired and stressed. The worst part of what you’re feeling is that you haven’t told anyone why you’re feeling it. Tim stayed up with you most of the night and held you to comfort you, and while you appreciate it, it only upsets you more because he did it without asking why you needed it.

“7-Adam-19 requesting backup,” Chen calls over the radio. “11351; suspect in possession of heroin and oxycodone.”

“Dispatch, attach me to 7-Adam-19’s backup call,” you request.

You drive to the address dispatch provided and hope your day improves after seeing Tim again. When you arrive, the suspect is cuffed and in the back of Tim’s shop as they search his car for other drugs.

“Hey,” you call as you exit your car. “What do you need?”

Tim looks at you as Lucy says, “Suspect escort and search assistance.”

“I can do either. Let me know what you want me to do,” you offer.

“Suspect escort, please,” Tim answers. He tips his head to the side, and you walk to the sidewalk with him.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah. So, you just want me to get him to booking?” you reply, brushing off Tim's concern.

“Please. Will you tell me if you stop being okay?”

“Yes, Tim. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at lunch.”

You turn away from Tim and move the driver in custody into your shop to take him back to the station. Tim and Lucy abandon their search to watch you leave.

“Is she alright?” Lucy asks.

You turn a corner, disappearing from Tim’s view, and his jaw tightens. He couldn’t get an answer from you, and now Lucy thinks he knows everything in your head. Tim refuses to show worry, so he lets his concern come out as anger and annoyance.

“That is not your business or an appropriate topic to discuss while we are on duty, Chen. Focus,” he replies.

Lucy nods and returns to the search of the car, but she’s beginning to feel just as stressed as you and Tim. You all care about each other and moving around in circles like this won’t help.

“Goodnight, Luce,” you call as you walk beside Tim to go home.

“Hey, do you want to go to dinner with me on Friday?” she asks. “Just to catch up, hang out?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you answer with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Tim grumbles beside you, and you’re convinced it’s because he didn’t get an invite.

“We’ll have breakfast Saturday,” you promise him.

Lucy laughs behind you, and you wave over your shoulder as Tim spreads his hand across your back and leads you toward his truck. You know he’ll hold you close again all night, even if you don’t ask, because he comforts you without pushing you. When or if you want to talk about it, he’s ready to listen, but he knows what it is like to need room, and he’d never take that from you or force you to tell him anything before you’re ready. He’s amazing, and you wish you could share what is bothering you, but you can’t put any more people in danger.

When dispatch alerts you to a call in your area, you accept it, hoping to get your mind off everything. The officer reads Lucy’s apartment building address, and your stomach drops. You tell dispatch to attach Bradford and Chen to the call before hitting your lights and sirens to get there as fast as possible.

The apartment building, for the most part, has been ransacked. Doors are broken, windows broken and locks picked, and residents’ belongings are strewn through the halls, but nothing appears to be missing. Tim and Lucy arrive a few minutes after you do and meet you on Lucy’s floor. Her apartment is trashed, but she can’t see where anything has been stolen.

You lead Tim through the other side of her apartment before stopping suddenly.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Someone called me a few nights ago… They threatened to do something to Lucy, and I think this was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

He looks over your shoulder to ensure no one is listening before giving you his complete attention.

“Wade knew, but he said that you and Lucy shouldn’t know because the threat was vague, and it would just put you on edge.”

“That should have been my decision!”

“Tim, I’m sorry.”

Tim’s eyes soften before he nods. “Is that what you’ve been so upset about? You were worried about Chen?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. “But this looks planned, intentional. They only went into certain apartments, and the stuff thrown everywhere was an afterthought.”

“Someone was looking for something,” Tim agrees.

“But what?”

Tim looks around before yelling, “Chen! Get in here!”

“Yes, sir?” she asks as she enters.

“What do you have in here that someone would be so desperate to get?” he asks.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know. Think about it, Lucy. What would someone risk their freedom, their life for, and do this kind of damage to hide?”

Lucy taps her fingers against her thigh as she thinks. Your surprise phone call didn't provide information about what they wanted, so you stay quiet.

“Well?” Tim pushes.

“Give her a second to think,” you scold. “She didn’t ask for this, she’s not the criminal. Be nice.”

Tim clenches his jaw. In his mind, she may as well be the criminal. She led someone to her apartment, to you, and you’ve been worried because of her. His annoyance and need for answers is justified.

“Wait, I got a necklace at a police auction!” she says suddenly.

“You bought jewelry at a police auction?” Tim asks. “Last boyfriend really that cheap?”

You elbow Tim and shake your head. “Leave her alone.”

“Who buys a single necklace at a police auction?” he argues. “A car, a trailer, sure. But one necklace?”

“It was expensive,” Lucy defends.

“Which means whoever wants it is probably the one responsible for the police having it,” you deduce. “I’m going to go help them search the upper floors. Tim, be nice. Lucy, look for the necklace, please.”

You walk into the stairwell and find yourself face-to-face with a Humphrey Bogart wannabe in a ski mask. It takes less than thirty seconds to get the cuffs on him, and based on his surprise, he thought he had already outsmarted the cops with the widespread burglary distraction.

After you pass him off to another officer, you return to Lucy’s apartment and let them know he’s in custody.

“Bradford, why does my suspect have a black eye?” Wade asks over the radio.

“He threatened Lucy,” you answer quickly. “But, who knows, maybe he already had that. He was wearing a ski mask, after all.”

“You hit him for threatening your puppy, station kid, whatever you call her?” Tim asks with his brows raised.

“Thanks, Mom,” Lucy calls from her bedroom.

“We’re leaving,” Tim announces. “Good luck finding your criminal necklace.”

“It’s pretty!” Lucy yells as you walk out.

“I need a nap now,” you tell Tim.

He nods and says, “I always need one after working with Chen.”

[blackkwidowed]

We all know nats a bottom for sure. But there's just something about power bottom Nat slamming herself down onto r's strap while r's hands are handcuffed to the bed 😵‍💫

this.

you'd be cuffed, sitting up against the headboard with quiet possibly, the most incredible sight in front of you

she'd be completely bare, like i'm talking tits-to-face. so you'd lookup, and see her head thrown back, eyes clamped shut and mouth open in bliss. you'd look in front of you, you'll see her using one hand on her breasts, pulling at her own nipples for as much pleasure as possible

then you'd look down. her hips jutting over and over on the toy strapped to your hips. she's moving fast, with her free hand at her own clit

and nat's got stamina, think of the kind of training and work she's done

also consider when she's close, the hand on her breast grips at the back of your neck instead and near enough collapsing on you, pulling herself into you. you absolutely did not resist the chance to latch your mouth to her neck for some form of contact

she wouldn't stop after one. you'd break after she's managed 3 orgasms, this time helping her out by fucking up into her, once she allows it. still cuffed to the headboard.

she'd be almost exhausted by the time she decides she's had enough. as soon as she's let you free though, you'll take the opportunity to flip her over and fuck one more orgasm out of her, this time from behind with nat's ass in the air, and your hands all over her

[simplyzeeka]

Yes Day

Warnings: MDNI!! Smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving, condescending dick Terry, unprotected sex (just... don't) p in v, oral (m recieving)

Pairing: Terry x plus sized!oc (Fatima)

Note: She was supposed to sl*t him out, but Terry said no, not happening and just took the reigns.😔

This one's short and sweet

He should have known better. Terry should have known better than to participate with his girlfriend in ‘Yes day’. He knew better than to indulge because he knew how Fatima's mind worked.

At first he thought it would be miniscule things, like getting him to add sugar in his grits in the morning, or get her to pick his clothes for work, because his baby wouldn't dare ask him to do the impossible, right?

Wrong. And unfortunately for Terry, him underestimating Fatima forced him into a very compromising position.

Knees to the ground and his wrists bound behind his back, in some black fluffy cuffs while her thighs closed around his face. All that and one rule that ran in his mind constantly. “No touching.”

So yes, he should have known better, because she was also speaking to him like she had lost her damn mind.

“Don't be mad, baby. I asked if you were hungry and you said yes.” he should have known better, because he knew she was a tease. “Now be a good boy, and eat.” Fatima guides his head deeper into her pussy, his nose nuzzling against her clit deliciously while he put his mouth to good use, indulging them both.

“Mhm, doin’ so good. Just like that, you ain't new to this hmm?” She coaxed, resting on her elbows as she stared into the beautiful petrichor of his eyes. “Uh uhn, my baby true to this, eating me so good. Keep going.”

That almost made him forget his predicament, always loved how she talked to him, never being one to shy away from being vocal. When Terry talked to her , best believe Fatima was gonna talk back.

Fatima's hand travelled to her supple breasts, groping softly as she threw her head back. “Eyes on me Fat, wanted me to eat so bad, so you gon’ watch.” And damn, did he love to talk to her.

The languid movements of his tongue had her leaning her crotch closer to his face, something about the way he curled the wet muscle that made her think he was urging her to come closer. She raised her head, looking down at him as he made beautiful love to her swollen nub. Terry hums against her flooding heat, sending agitated vibration through her pussy and straight to her stomach, and a little to her messy, deluded head.

He couldn't help but smile against the wetness of her folds, holding back a mocking chuckle, because even with his hands cuffed, even when she tried to take dominance, Fatima obliged to Terry’s every command.

She looked so pretty to him, her hair in simple straight back plaits. No make up on her face, showing every blemish, mole and pimple. Eyebrows a little outgrown since she missed her appointment to trim them, lashes long and lush, Terry swore they could kiss her cheeks.

Honestly, he could do this to her anyday, but the need to touch her burned him, just as it did Fatima, because she loved it when he touched her.

She was writhing now, his mouth not being nearly enough. “Uncuff me, baby.” a simple order, and she contemplated. Frowned as she pouted at the loss of his hot mouth against her mound, still, she nodded and slipped off the dinner table.

She should have known better. Fatima should have known better than to think Terry would let all of that slide. Should have said ‘no’ and wore his mouth out, let him put her to sleep.

Because now, Terry was so deep inside her that Fatima would the one to fuck around and put a ring on him. He put it on her like he wanted death to be the reason they part, cause there was no way Fatima would ever fully allow him to fuck anyone else like the way he was doing her. “Fuck you thought this was? Telling me not to touch you like you run shit. Fix that arch, Fatima.”

They have moved from the dinner table, now on the couch as Fatima rested her elbows on the armrest as he drilled into her gushy folds. He reached the most unreachable depths of her cunt with each thrust, well at least she thought they were unreachable until now.

He gripped at the flesh of her hips once she did as told, then picked up the pace as he began with his much appreciated torment. “Can’t ever let us have a good day, hmm? Always gotta run your mouth.” There is a small slip of a whimper as he speaks, that sound alone being enough for Fatima to fuck him back, just to draw more out of him.

“M’sorry baby, fuck, Im so sorry.” She was clenching around him so much, in hopes that that would stutter his movements, but with the way she spilled her excitement around him, that only made it easier for him.

With his bottom lip captured between his teeth, Terry awes at the beautiful sight of her slick coating his dick, her hums in approval. “I know baby. Makin’ it up to me. You wet as fuck, Fat. Dammit.”

His moans were enough to motivate her to gyrate her hips, catching each and every thrust he threw at her with skill. There was something about the way Terry spoke, something about the baritone of his voice and the slight slur of moans that had Fatima wanting to do anything he wanted. He's always had that kind of leverage over her, barely had to do much to get what he wants, he just had to ask in a way that had her constantly clenching her thighs together.

“There you go, Fat. Keep on baby, you gonna catch this nut baby, hmm? Have my baby?”

And as always, she would say yes, because Terry fucked her so good. Stroked his initials with the tip of his dick in the depth of her warm cunt. Places she was sure no one would be able to reach. “Oh my… fuck yesss.”

“Yeah? You so nasty Fatima. Why you letting my fuck you like this?” Always so full of mocking, but then again, condescending Terry was always the best to give dick, and dick dumb Fatima was always the best to take it. A great team they made

“Can't even speak. But you was talking all that shit earlier.” Terry slowed down to deliver a slow and deep stroke that had Fatima reach and arm behind her and push at his stomach. “Fuckkk, let up T.”

Terry shook his head, grabbed her arm and pinned it to her back. He continued offering the slow stroked, a frown on his face as sweat dripped down onto Fatima's back. His legs were getting tired with how long they've been at it, but he ignored the burn in his thighs, kept going, he was nowhere near done.

“I'm ‘bout to nut. Milk me dry baby, c'mon.” Terry coaxed, maintaining the slow, steady pace of his hips while he felt his orgasm nearing closer, specifically because Fatima couldn't stop clenching around his dick, doing just as he had ordered.

“Fuckk you did so good baby. Just like that.” Terry coached her through his game, pumping in and out of her. Consciously pumping his nut inside of her. “There you go, pretty girl.”

Fatima slumped on the couch once she felt Terry slip out of her. She heard Terry shuffle around, but couldn't find the energy to turn and look over at him. She did hear the soft pattering of steps, the carpeted floor not being enough to drown Terry's steps.

She only looked up when she felt a fan of breath on her face. She came face-to-face with Terry's face, his hand met her head and ran his fingers between the parts of her plaits. He was still stark naked and crouched on the floor, admiring Fatima's messiness. “You good, baby?”

Fatima could only nod with a small smile, blinking up at him. “Hm, good. Take a lil’ break, we ain't done.”

And soon enough, after he wiped her clean and gave her water to drink, Terry had his dick stuffed in her mouth while he sat on the couch, letting her apologise for her stupid requests with little gags and whimpers for the rest of that evening.

Note: I'm thinking of starting a taglist, for all my fanfictions. If you want to be added, please comment or send a dm

[revehae]

weak (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, virgin!jisung x (f) anemic!reader, drugging

wc. 990

i been writing this on and off for 24 days and youre telling me its only 990 words im not a serious person at all… fake news its longer now cause i suddenly added one (1) sentence. thank you @neocentral for holding a gun to my head

for two entire days, jisung was antsy. even the mere thought of you, no matter how brief, made a cool wind sweep over his shoulders and his gut tighten uncomfortably.

he knew what he was going to do, and he knew how he was going to do it, but even more so, he knew that it was wrong.

but if he knew that it was wrong, then why did he resolve himself to do it anyway? why did he smile in your face as if he didn’t know that he was about to hurt you? why didn’t he give jeno back his stuff, instead of holding onto it all this time?

jisung didn’t have any idea what it was, other than what jeno had told him while pressing the tiny bag into his chest. colorless, odorless, tasteless, and she’ll be out long enough for you to do all the dirty, perverted stuff you’re too scared to do while she’s awake.

but the truth was that compared to the thought of doing it while you were awake, this terrified jisung tenfold. would it still hurt you, bother you? would you feel the soreness between your thighs and instantly know what he had done? would you hate him more because you wouldn’t remember?

those were the thoughts hurtling through his head when you got up to use the bathroom. but if he was going to do it, he had to act quickly. your nightstand was littered with prescriptions pills and jisung knew you took the iron supplements every night. he poured the powder into your water bottle, watching it disappear as he shook it.

jisung’s heart raced at a rhythm he never knew could be possible when you came back and grabbed a hold of your water bottle. you didn’t make a face, drinking it like nothing was the matter. and he was surprised by how quickly you were out. in the few minutes it took to take effect, you didn’t even have time to become sleepy.

for a long minute, jisung didn’t even seem to remember why he had done this anymore. he was staring at your face, poking your cheek to see if you would react, but you didn’t stir. he worried that maybe you were dead, but when he put his finger to the base of your neck, there was still a normal pulse.

jisung’s breath quickened when he realized all of the things he could do to you right now. he didn’t dive in headfirst like he thought he would, his fingers absentmindedly trailing your soft skin first. he started with your neck, since his hand was already there, gently tightening his fingers around it. he wanted to mark you so badly, but he couldn’t.

he brought his thump up to your bottom lip, overcome by the formerly suppressed urge to kiss you, and with nothing to stop him, he pressed his lips to yours. he was mildly annoyed that you couldn’t kiss him back, but on the bright side, he still had the opportunity to touch you.

to do all the dirty, perverted stuff he was too scared to do while you were awake, as jeno put it.

his words always echoed in jisung’s head, influencing him in ways that were less than healthy. you could easily take her, if you weren’t so weak in the knees, jeno would tease, nudging jisung painfully. she’s anemic, for fuck’s sake. she can’t be that strong. 

jisung pulled back to gape at you in your night gown. he always thought you looked good in them. the way they gave away your collarbone and the little lace ribbon where your cleavage stopped, and the way the cute sleeves cuffed at your wrists was endearing to him.

but right now, as he gingerly bunched up the dress and caught sight of your lilac, cotton panties, the only thing he could think about was how desperately he ached to be inside you, to feel your sticky, throbbing walls cling around his virgin cock. to prove that he wasn’t a coward, that he wasn’t weak like you were. 

and for that reason, he couldn’t be slow and steady anymore. he knew there was no clock on him, nothing pacing him and nothing threatening to tear him away from the warmth of you, but his self-restraint had already worn thin and he was running on empty.

jisung convinced himself that you wanted him as he sheathed himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, every impatient inch of him. it may not have come from your mouth, but the slick somewhat facilitating his entry was answer enough. you may not have known what was happening, but your body was hyper aware.

god, jisung’s was, too. he couldn’t resist the tight squeeze, the way your pussy gripped him for dear life, and he tipped his head forward as his hands gripped your thighs to anchor himself before he fell too deep. even they were warm, the most cute and supple pair.

his eyes were completely closed, winced shut at the first pulse of your warm and tight cunt around his dick. he knew you would have loved him, if you could feel him. he knew he was big enough to please you. the guys too often teased him, saying he had all those inches, but not a hint of what to do with any.

but jisung knew right now. driving his hips passionately into yours, big hands clasping at your soft, moisturized skin, he knew he could make you feel things unimaginable. the sounds you were unknowingly yanking out of his throat, he could easily pull out of you. the way his face tensed with pleasure, he was certain he could make short work of you, too. 

“so weak,” jisung whispered into deaf ears, burying his face in your neck, and breathing in your ravishing scent. he imagined you calling him sungie like you always did, and it only made him grunt. “it’s okay. i’ll protect you. like i always have.”

[writtenbymoonflower]

Could I request a poly!marauders comforting a close friend(possibly someone they have feelings for but she was dating someone else.) Just broke up with my boyfriend tonight; he wasn't honest about something vitally important and things just weren't work out out before he even came clean and I feel sick and just need comfort. Please and thank you.

hi baby! i'm so sorry about your breakup. i know there's nothing i can say to make it easier, but i hope this helps. please take it easy on yourself, and my dms are open if you need anything <3 poly!marauders x fem!reader (romantic if you squint)

cw: mentions of drinking, breakups, swearing

880 words

In your defense, when you had initially made the call you didn’t expect all this fuss. Your intention was to kindly let your friends know that you didn’t feel up to going out that night due to your unexpected heartbreak. If you had known that your call would result in two bottles of rose, a gallon of moose-tracks frozen custard, and three borderline sickeningly benevolent boys infiltrating your house, you probably would’ve gone with a vague text. Even so, you couldn’t deny that deep down, you were grateful. 

However, sobbing into the sleeves of your borrowed sweater, with a Disney movie playing in the background while you were periodically fed bites of ice cream and sips of wine was a level of vulnerability you did not expect to reach with your friends.

Every time you thought your sobs had subsided, another wave welled up inside you. You sniffled miserably, pinching your irritated nose clean. Your hands were batted away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart. Your poor face is already rubbed raw.” James kindly scolded you. You nodded, the movement making you feel more lightheaded than before. You were handed a glass of water, not the wine you were hoping for but you still took it. After taking a few sips you set it down, feeling the tears welling into your eyes again. Remus tugged you into his side, letting you nuzzle your face into his soft sweater. 

“Babe, I’m not sure that prick is worth this amount of tears.” Sirius’ tone was sweet, if not a little venomous. He was still cuffed on the back of the head by Remus. 

“Tact, pads. Have some tact.” Remus huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Cry as much as you need to, dove.” 

Strangely, now your tears had stopped. You sat up, though Remus still held onto you. 

“You wanna talk, now lovely girl? Or do you want to be distracted?” James held you from your other side, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“I don’t think I have coherent thoughts right now.” You tried to joke but your tone just came out pitiful.

“That’s okay.” Remus said, thoughtfully. “Just say what's going through your head. This is for you, dovey. It doesn’t have to make perfect sense to us, we just want to be here for you.” 

You nodded, more gently this time, and took a deep breath. “I’m just-” The lump was still in your throat, making it hard to get the words out. “I’m just so hurt, you know? Like I gave everything. I gave fucking everything to this. To him. And I guess I just thought that he would do the same. And I- I’m just so fucking stupid, because I never expected he would do something like this.” Your face screwed up like you were in pain and you fell back into Remus’ chest, silent sobs shaking your body. 

“Oh, baby.” Sirius placed a hand on your leg, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth. They let you cry for the nth time that night, never rushing or scolding you. When your cries slowed again, Sirius spoke up. “I know it hurts, dollface. I know. And I know there is nothing we can say to make it go away.” There was hurt in his voice as he said that. Sirius despised feeling helpless. And emotions were one of the things that made him feel that way the most. He always thought he was shit at comforting people, but in reality, he’s far better than he gives himself credit for. 

“Can you look at me, sweet girl?” James leaned over to catch your eyes. You let him. “Listen to me, what he chose to do says nothing, and I mean nothing about you, okay? You are not stupid, or anything of the sort. It says everything about him, that he knew he had your trust and chose to not be deserving of it. Just because he didn’t love you right, doesn’t mean that you were wrong for loving him anyway. So please, don’t ever for a moment, let his bad decisions affect how you see yourself, precious thing.” 

His words made you cry all over again, but it was different this time. James pulled you into his lap, cradling you like a baby in his arms. 

“Look at what you’ve done, prongs. You’ve broken her all over again.” Sirius said incredulously. For the first time that night, you laughed. It was wet and choked, but it still felt good. 

“There you go.” Remus squeezed your calf. “Didn’t quite like seeing you like that.” You nodded. 

“I don’t quite like being like that.” You half-laughed. James squeezed you again. 

“But if you need to be, we’re here for you, yeah?” Sirius poured you more wine. The other two boys let out loud affirmatives. 

“Thank you guys, really. I think I needed this.” You hoped the way you were looking at them showed how grateful you really were.

“Anytime, lovie.” James kissed your cheek. “Now, I think we need a movie yeah? Something silly. Like Sausage Party. Or one of those shitty horror movies that only scares Sirius.” He grinned cheekily. 

“Oi! Those are really fucking scary!” Sirius squawked. You rolled your eyes, filled to the brim with affection.