#with a neck pillow & a blanket i have been using as a cloak.........

[dordey]

i don’t want to “hold” my booking.......i want to buy a plane ticket & Know That I Reserved A Seat On That Plane, & then pay for it in four (4) easy installments in between also buying travel insurance & compression socks........why is this so hard

[crosshairlovebot]

you good? / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair returns to you on shore leave to find you unwell, so he takes care of you.

word count: 2,521

needed to write a crosshair version of the hunter one i did. i love him so much i can't even talk about it properly. hope this brings comfort to anyone who's reading and sick. you deserve a gentle crosshair looking after you.

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

Crosshair had intended to use his unexpected shore leave to surprise you. To knock on your door and see you light up at the sight of him. That feeling always made him warm inside, to see you happy that he was standing in front of you. He relished in the feel of your arms being thrown around his shoulders and wrapping him tightly. He could live inside your arms if the galaxy let him. His chest would expand with contentment when you would gush about how happy you were to see him, knowing that happiness was not only in response to no longer being alone in your cold, quiet Coruscanti apartment, but also the knowledge that he was okay, and safe, and alive in a war that only seemed to become more endless as the fighting went on.

Crosshair would let you fuss over him, give him real food, let him have a warm shower before you would both fall into bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms – feeling like he had never left. It was easy to pretend he was just a man when he was alone with you. To get lost in the normalcy of sharing a home. You’d both play pretend for as long as you could before the inevitable end of his all too brief shore leave would sneak up on you both, and he would be shipped out again, for who knew how long with only infrequent comms for both your comforts. 

He had been looking forward to the familiar routine of his shore leave, to seeing your entire body lift once you opened the door to him, but those hopes were dashed when he knocked on the door and you opened it, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak, sniffly and half-closed eyes.

“Crosshair,” you croaked, excitement clear in your voice before you began coughing into your blanket. “You’re home.”

“Ca’tra,” Crosshair breathed as he took in the sight of you, concern immediately spiking inside him. “You’re sick.”

“It’s nothing,” you brushed off, sniffling and stepping aside so Crosshair could enter the apartment. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“It’s not nothing,” Crosshair scolded as he watched you press the close button on the door and shuffle into your tiny living room without even hugging him like you usually do.

You had made a bed on the couch, full of pillows and other blankets. The holo was on and playing some movie he didn’t recognise. You sat down, making a sound that made it sound like walking and standing had been a big effort for you. He shrugged off his pack and placed it by the door before he moved to crouch in front of you, hands on your knees.

“How long?” he asked, looking at you.

You tried breathing in, but your nose was blocked. “Was feeling a little off yesterday but woke up today feeling much worse.”

Crosshair stood up and he watched your neck crane up to follow his gaze. He placed one hand under your chin and the back of the other against your forehead. You were warm, but not feverish. With the coughing and sneezing, it must just be a bad cold. He knew you didn’t take much time to relax, usually opting to keep busy to distract yourself from his absence. He guessed it was all catching up with you, the exhaustion manifesting itself into sickness.

“Have you been to a med droid?” Crosshair smoothed a hand over your hair in a gesture so soft, that on a regular day, he would’ve watched you close your eyes and smile in response. Instead, you barely reacted before pulling away gently.

You were more unwell than you were letting on.

“Too expensive. Too much effort,” you coughed before letting yourself fall on your side, head hitting one of the many pillows as you groaned.

Crosshair watched you, crease in his brow. He sat down on the caf table, elbows on his knees. “Tell me what hurts.”

You huffed and curled yourself into a ball. “Throat. Head. I’m so tired.”

Crosshair looked at an empty plate on the floor next to the couch. “Have you eaten?”

You breathed through your mouth, rubbing your nose. “Small things. Crackers. Bread. Low effort stuff.”

Crosshair let out a breath. He hated seeing you like this. He’d never been sick, since clones had been engineered to be immune to nearly all diseases, but to not feel like yourself didn’t seem like something he would enjoy.

Crosshair pulled a blanket out from the many under your legs, and you frowned at him as you watched him drape it over you wordlessly. He pulled it up to your chin, the way he liked as a cadet before he bent over to tuck you in.

It wasn’t even a decision for him to take care of you during his brief shore leave, more like something he was willing to do simply because he loved you.

When you loved someone, you tried to do anything you could to make their life easier, to release them of their burdens and carry them yourself.

Crosshair would shoulder all your burdens unasked, no matter what they were. The act of caring for you wasn’t and would never be something you had to ask for. He was glad he was here, that way he knew you would be well taken care of under his watchful eyes.

Though he had become better at articulating his love for you with words, the best way for him to show how much he loved you was still with actions.

“What’re you doing?” you croaked, brows furrowed at him as he pushed the blanket around the edges of your body.

“What does it look like?” he replied tersely as he adjusted the pile of pillows you were reclining on, making sure they were supporting your head properly.

“Cross, you don’t have to take care of me,” you told him.

Crosshair only scoffed in response as he took in the rest of the living room.

It was messier than you usually kept it, with several plates and empty cups littering the floor and the caf table he sat on as well as small piles of discarded face napkins.

He started gathering up the dishes before walking them over to the sink. He hated mess, and he knew you did too, so the fact that you hadn’t at least taken the used dishes to the sink told him how sick you really were. He started rinsing them before he placed them in the small bench-top dishwasher he’d helped you pick out a few shore leaves ago.

“Cross,” you said from the couch, having made yourself sit up and ruin his perfect tuck-in job.

He couldn’t be annoyed at you, no matter how hard he tried.

Crosshair ignored you as he made his way back to the couch to gather up all the face napkins and put them in the trash.  You said his name again, this time falling into a coughing fit as your breath caught in your sore throat. He grabbed a clean cup from the cupboard and filled it with some water. He came back over to you and sat on the coffee table, holding the cup out.

“Drink,” he ordered softly.

You gave him a look like you weren’t happy with him. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave you to fend for yourself, not when he was here. It was his job to look out for the people he loved.

You wordlessly took the cup, and the bottom of it immediately went on your knee, like you lacked the strength to bring it to your lips. Crosshair sighed. You needed some proper food in you. He took the cup from you as he shuffled closer then placed his empty hand behind your head.

“Head back,” he told you. You did what you were told, and he helped you take a few sips of water. After, he ran his thumb across your lip to catch a stray drop. His hand stayed for a moment so his thumb could caress your cheek. He wished he could take this away from you.

“Cross, I’m okay,” you tried to tell him.

“No, you’re not,” he said, placing the cup next to him. “Lie down. Rest.”

“I’m not good at resting,” you grumbled.

“Too bad.”

You groaned and the strain on your throat only made you fall into another coughing fit. Crosshair gave you another sip of water before he tucked you in again, tighter this time so you wouldn’t get up.

Once he was satisfied you weren’t going to move again, he told you he’d be right back before quickly going to your bedroom. He stripped out of his armour and blacks before taking the speediest shower of his life and dressing in the spare clothes he kept here.

Now in loose pants and a threadbare short-sleeved top that smelt faintly like you, Crosshair padded barefoot into the living room again. He was relieved to see you in the same position as before, eyes closed. He watched you from the doorway for a moment and looked at how small you looked on that couch. He didn’t like the thought that if he hadn’t come home when he did, you would be suffering through this by yourself, without him to care for you.

He tried to move quietly, but your eyes cracked open once you heard him enter the room, a small smile on your lips. Crosshair returned it and came and sat back down on the caf table, facing you.

“You good?” he asked, placing the backs of his bare fingers on your cheek. You pulled a hand out from under the blanket and grabbed his, moving the backs of his fingers to your lips, kissing them gently. He smiled, warmth blooming in his chest at the simple gesture of intimacy. It’d been a long time since he felt your lips on his skin.

“Better, now that you’re here,” you told him honestly, your voice scratchy.

Crosshair smiled. He liked being here as much as you liked having him here.

“You’re all warm from the shower,” you smiled, pressing your face against his hand, holding his arm close to you.

“Been a while since I had a decent one.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. You chuckled and kissed his palm. He let you cradle his hand and arm, and he would’ve let you hold onto it forever, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of before he wrapped himself around you.

“Hungry?” he asked. He frowned when you shook your head, nose rubbing against his wrist. “You should eat something. Even if it’s small.”

He sighed when you wrinkled your nose at the thought. He went through what he remembered from the Kaminoan training module on nat-born illnesses. “Have you taken anything?”

You nodded. “I took something a couple of hours ago when I woke up.”

“Did you eat then?”

You nodded again. He would have to be satisfied with that. Maybe he could get you to eat something when you were due to make more medication, but for now, he just wanted to let you rest. He’d try again later.

He searched your face, his mouth pressed in a line. He wished he could do something more for you, it frustrated him to not be able to fix this easily; that he had to wait it out with you. He was patient when it came to sniping, he could lie in the same position for hours before taking a shot with no difficulty. But he was not so patient when you were in pain or unwell. He felt himself scowl. It was the restless and useless feeling he hated. Crosshair never liked feeling useless.

“I feel bad,” you told him in a small voice.

Crosshair’s spine straightened in alarm. “What can I do?”

“No, I mean, I feel bad about this,” you gestured to yourself lying on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, poorly.

“You?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why?”

He was just silently commiserating about how bad he felt that he couldn’t absorb your pain and experience it just so you wouldn’t have to. Why would you feel bad?

“It’s your time off,” you told him, your hold on his arm tightening. “You barely get any and now it’s ruined because I’m sick.”

Crosshair let out a breath. Is that what you thought? That your being unwell was an inconvenience to him?

He shook his head. “It’s not ruined.”

“We can’t even do anything fun. I’ve been wanting to take you to this new diner that opened a few levels up. I haven’t even been there because I wanted us to go together.”

Crosshair smiled at the thought. “There will be other times, ca'tra.”

You let out a frustrated breath. Crosshair crouched down and smoothed your hair back off your face with his free hand, and you watched him with those eyes of yours that rivalled even the most beautiful of stars. Crosshair leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with slanted brows, like he was the single most amazing thing you’d ever seen, and that made his chest tight with the kind of feeling he’d only ever read about.

Never in the entire galaxy did he think he would ever be loved the way you love him.

You yawned as Crosshair stroked your cheek softly, tenderly. “You should sleep.”

You tugged on the hand you still had gently. “Lay down with me?”

Crosshair stood up and shut the holo off before lifting up the edge of your blanket. You wordlessly shuffled over and when there was enough room, he lay down next to you. His feet dangled off the edge, his frame too long for the piece of furniture.

You wriggled around trying to find a comfortable position in the narrow space of the couch, before you finally settled to lying half on top of him, head on his chest, arm wrapped around his torso, and leg hooked around his hip.

Crosshair grunted as he adjusted his position, he predicted he would not be moving from this spot for some time. He didn’t care. He’d let you lie on him until you were back to normal, and even then.

He let out a breath as he draped the blanket over you both, tucking it around your frames. You relaxed on top of him, and there was something so comforting about having your body right next to him like this. He rubbed a hand gently up and down your back as you sighed, the breath all broken with your sore throat.

“Thanks, Cross,” you whispered. Crosshair smiled and kissed the top of your head. He didn’t need to be thanked. He’d do anything for you.

“Love you,” you murmured as your breathing became deep and even as you fell asleep. Crosshair tightened his hold on you as your heartbeat pressed into his. He loved you more.

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! i love writing soft crosshair so much :') it's literally my mission to fill the crosshair/reader tag with soft crosshair fics

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

[vulpisnocturna]

There was only one bed - Horny Akatsuki Edition

request by @takhidk 🤍

SOFT NSFW



Deidara:

-is completely speechless when he finds out there is only one bed at the inn during your mission together

-acts cocky though, telling you not to make a move on him

-he’s the first one to make a move, saying the bed is too small (he is literally 5’5” lmao) as he scoots closer to you

-you tease him about it and he tells you to shut up, his cheeks red

-he’s never had sex before but what he lacks in experience he makes up for with his enthusiasm

-you have to tell him that his hands are a gift, and how to use them, but he’s very happy to comply

-‘wouldn’t it be better to make the bed explode when I make you cum, hm?’ he asks, and you look at him, eyes wide

-‘no, Deidara. Unless you want this to never happen again’

-‘fine’

Obito:

-can’t believe himself. He hasn’t slept in the same bed with anyone ever

-decides to play dumb with his Tobi persona, hugging you like a pillow

-in reality, bro is dying to have you close to him

-after a while, though, he gets quite worked up, and decides he’ll have his fun with you. He can tell you want him by the way you casually move your ass against him, as if he couldn’t notice

-he blindfolds you and takes off his mask, starting to kiss your neck, letting his voice drop to his normal tone

-‘you know what happens to little things like you who poke the rattlesnake, right?’

Hidan:

-As soon as he sees there’s only one bed, he’s all for it

-‘I bet you asked for one bed, huh? Guess I’m just irresistible’ he grins cockily

-‘Yeah, right’ you say, rolling your eyes, though you have to admit he is hot.

-‘Let’s fuck’ he says, as forward as always. You stare at him, swallowing painfully

-When you hesitate, Hidan practically throws you on the bed, ripping the cloak off of you and licking your exposed chest

-‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have some fun, you and I’ he says, pulling your shirt up and starting to suck on your nipples, a bit too rough, but the pain soon mixes with the pleasure

Itachi:

-blinks and stands in the doorway, looking at the double bed. ‘There must have been a misunderstanding. I will solve it, don’t worry’ he says, disappearing towards the reception. You kind of hope they won’t have any other rooms, although the idea of sleeping with Itachi is both hot and terrifying

-when he comes back, he does not look too happy

-‘I am deeply sorry about this. They do not have any other rooms. I will sleep on the chair’ he says, removing his cloak as he goes in. You do the same, and you don’t fail to catch his eyes on you for a split second. As you get into bed, you stare at him, sucking in your lips

-‘Sleep on the bed, Itachi’ you say after a while. He looks at you, his throat bobbing before he slowly gets up and crawls under the blanket, staring at you. He wants to touch you, but it would be inappropriate. He can’t get himself to move. And yet, when you move closer to him and push your ass against him, he can’t contain himself and wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer

-‘Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. Let me indulge you, then’ he says, his hand slipping under your shorts as he starts to kiss your neck languidly

Pain:

-Is quite pissed off that he was not given two rooms, but when he looks at you, he can’t help but think this must have been fate

-and after all, he hasn’t had that chance in so long

-he saw the way you looked at him, with a blush on your cheeks and suggestive eyes

-‘lie down’ he says, tone authoritative, ‘and take off your clothes’

-you can’t believe your ears. Though when Pain gives you a meaningful look, you quickly do as he says, though you’re blushing and trembling with anticipation

-‘let’s make the most of this unfortunate situation, shall we?’ he says, running his hands on your thighs, splaying them open for him and staring at you with those hypnotic eyes

Kakuzu:

-is fuming at first. No one can mock him like this

-after that, though, he’s quite pleased with himself

-‘Less money to pay like this. We will do this from now on’

-‘Uhm… Kakuzu? Where are you going to sleep?’

-‘On the bed. I am going to get my money’s worth, brat’ he says, removing his headband and mask. You look at him, suddenly hyperaware. He’s… good-looking. For a 90-year old guy, he’s handsome

-when you shift slightly to find a comfortable position on the mattress, black tendrils catch your wrists and you find yourself tied up

-‘You’re a handful. Do not move’ he says, hovering above you. You think he’s going to knock you out cold, but instead, he positions himself between your legs

-‘I don’t want to hear a sound. Or else’

Kisame:

-laughs it off when you’re embarrassed that there’s only one bed

-‘I suppose there’s nothing to be done. Might as well get comfortable’ he says, taking off his cloak and his shirt. You stare at him, your lips parting at the muscles on his body

-‘It’s not a shop window. You can look and touch, if you want’ he says with a sharp grin

-You blush, nevertheless getting closer to him, until your hand is resting on his chest

-His large hands easily lift you up from your waist as he holds you against him until you have to wrap your legs around his hips

-‘I didn’t even need the bed, but since we’re here…’ he says, lowering you on the mattress and grinning as he unfastens your cloak

Sasori:

-‘I don’t need to sleep anyway’ he says, sitting at the desk and turning the lamp on as he starts tinkering with one of his puppets

-You frown, lying down on the bed. The noise of screwdrivers and nails clattering on the desk is pissing you off, and you decide to see if he really is a puppet who doesn’t feel anything at all

-you move your hand between your legs, underneath your underwear

-‘what are you doing?’ he asks, voice smooth, but he doesn’t turn around

-‘nothing’ you say, smirking slightly and gasping softly as you start to touch yourself on the bed.

-‘rude’ he says, and when you try to move, your hands are frozen. When you look at him, there are chakra strings connecting his hands to yours

-‘I suppose I can play with you instead of my puppets tonight’

Konan:

-Blushes when she sees that there’s only one bed and asks you if you want her to look for a different inn

-you tentatively tell her it’s okay

-when you two get into bed, you keep glancing at each other, and you keep looking at that piercing underneath her lip, wondering what it would be like to kiss her and feel it against your lips

-when she moves, you’re frozen in place

-her lips are soft and you do feel the coldness of the metal on your bottom lip, but it’s quite a nice feeling

-Konan gets on top of you, continuing to make out with you, neither of you saying anything as you start to undress each other

-literally the most normal experience you’re gonna get in the Akatsuki, and she’s stunning too! Go you

Zetsu:

-watches you sleep like a creep

-sorry, I got nothing on this “guy”

[madforhoran]

Reunion (pt. 2)

Pt. 1 - here

So...it's done. Gonna be honest, I didn't follow the prompt completely (would bet too much for me 😅)

X X X

The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, the lower it was, the more nervous you got. Unsure if you could handle more teasing and tension. Seeing him again awakened all of the feelings and so much more. You wished to make up for the lost time, all that time you should’ve been there with him and for him. Too late to fix the past but maybe not too late to have hopes for the future alongside him. 

When the sky turned deep red, you buckled your cloak, patted down your skirt, and picked up a bundle of herbs you collected that could be of interest to him. Some were useful purely for their scent, others for their poisonous effects.

It was time to go.

Rivington Mill wasn’t far up ahead, definitely not for you when you used Misty Step. Spellcasting partially drained you as well, which was a desired state to get your adrenaline and nerves under control. You Misty Stepped right to the mill’s door, which were slightly ajar, and knocked, but there was no answer.

“Hello? Astarion, are you here?”  

You stepped inside. The circular room of the mill was dimly lit with candles, a singular log was burning in the fireplace. On the left side there were shelves packed up with big, mid-size, and small jars which you could safely guess was blood. On the opposite side was a simple bed with nice bedding and pillows. You noticed however that he never got rid of the ratty old blanket he carried throughout your journey together. 

“Look up, darling.” You heard suddenly and almost jumped out of your own skin. Gods! There he was, up on the wall…the wall? Wait, what, how? Then in a second he was gone, poofed away the same way his siblings did when they came to kidnap him from camp. What in the hells was going on?

“Now look behind you.” A whisper brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him and were met with eyes alight with childlike glee. He wore a simple but elegant blue blouse-shirt and form-fitting trousers which weren’t leaving much left to be desired. More often than not you could recall misdirecting a spell because you stared at his ass and legs instead of focusing on casting. His beauty yet again caused your breath to pause and your brain to malfunction, and you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him. You felt him melt into your touch without a single word. Shocking for someone who usually had something witty to say. His arms encircled your waist and you let out the breath you’d been holding, pulling away from the hug. You noticed a slight hint of disappointment crossing his features when you did so and his arms dropped from your body with hesitancy. 

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said with a tender smile adorning his lips. There was only one person in this room with surprises but it certainly wasn’t you. “Me?!” you asked, dumbfounded. “Gods above, Astarion, you can climb walls and…poof? How?”

“Oh yes, that is something I’ve discovered in the past couple of months, actually,” he waved his hand dismissively but you could hear in his voice it was a big deal. Of course it was! 

“Vampire spawn have powers, we just didn’t know about them because Cazador was suppressing them. For two hundred years…making me believe I was weak,” he added with a contemptuous sneer. Your palms balled into fists at the name. Fucking bastard. It meant that finally Astarion could enjoy some benefits of vampirism, not only drawbacks, pain, and loss. There was another piece you’d lost, though - witnessing the exact moment he’d found out what he could do. Stop it, you told yourself, no point in dwelling on what ifs. 

“You were never weak,” you corrected him. “Never.” 

He let out a bashful cough and pointed at the herb bundle you were still clutching in your palm. “Are those for me?”

“Yes, uh, I thought you could use some for your perfumes and some for poisons to kill bad guys with,” you said.

He eyed the bundle with utmost interest and took it from your hand. “Really? How…sweet. Thank you.”

Ever so thankful was one of the things you loved about him. You hadn’t known anyone else thanking you so many times for absolutely basic things. Heat rushed to your cheeks as he reached out for the clasp of your cloak. “May I?”

You nodded silently and the cloak fell to the floor. Suddenly you didn’t know what to do with your arms or where to look. The “perks” of being sober around someone whom you desired so badly it impeded any rational thought. Felt as if floodgates of all the repressed emotions opened, partially two days ago but fully right now. You’d kept it under control during the whole end of the world and mindflayer domination threat and then had been too busy with rebuilding Sorcerous Sundries alongside Gale and Rolan. With all of that dealt with, only one thing was missing from your life. The man standing right in front of you.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve bought some food for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Just trying to be a good host,” he shrugged.

“I don’t want to eat alone,” you said. “Dine with me.”

He chuckled. “Have you forgotten, dear? I can’t eat normal food.”

“I meant blood.”

He nodded and stepped away from you to take one of his blood jars. “No.” You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “My blood.”    

“Are you sure?” He was puzzled. You managed to surprise him yet again. “I’m serious, Astarion,” you answered firmly. He smiled and poofed out of the room. “Show-off!” you yelled after him, smiling as well. 

He served you pieces of meat, veg, and bits of fruit. Most likely stolen rather than bought but you weren’t about to question him. You laid down your forearm, inviting him to drink. Giving you one last look of making sure you’re alright with it, he sank his teeth into your wrist. You bit on the meat to distract yourself from the initial pain. Nonetheless, he was trying to be gentle. You remembered him draining villains during the battles, he paid no mind. It was vicious, primal, and it made him stronger. The first taste of freedom from Cazador.

You finished half of the plate when he stopped drinking and began massaging the puncture wounds with his thumb. The pupils of his crimson eyes were dilated, the drunken smile and your blood dripping down his chin were oh-so-inviting for you to do what you’d dreamed of doing. Kissing him. Simple as that. 

“Invigorating, my dear, thank y–” he didn’t get to finish as you leant from your chair and almost did it, stopping right in front of his face, so close you could see the tiny crows feet and every other beautiful crinkle. “I–oh gods,” you mumbled, sitting back down on the chair. “Yes, darling, what is it?” he responded with his typical teasing tone. Bloodloss and lust, that’s what it was. And excruciating love.  

“Tell me.”

You sighed. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” he asked provocatively. “That I’m enjoying this evening immensely? Because I am.” 

That you feel the same way I do. 

Despite playing this cat and mouse game, you knew. He wasn’t hiding it. There was no point wasting more time looking at him when you could be doing other things. Screw it. You stood up from the chair, braced yourself against the table, and ungracefully landed in his lap. You couldn’t help not noticing his crotch was stiff against your hip.

“Say where you’d like me to kiss you.”

His arms encircled your waist again as yours found their way around his neck, playing with his soft curls. Utter perfection. You had to remind yourself to continue breathing steadily. 

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” he smirked. No, he did not use on you what you’d told him all those months ago when he’d asked you to join him in his tent during the tiefling party. The conversation was so fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday.

“Oh, you need a little bit of enticing,” you countered, moving your right hand to gently cup his cheek. “Take your pick.” You began tracing your forefinger and middle finger over his cheekbone, up to his forehead, then sliding them down the slope of his perfect nose. When you reached the cupid’s bow of his lips, he parted them slightly as if gasping for breath. 

“How about I kiss you instead?”

Gods above, please. 

He moved his head closer so you could smell the blood he drank from you and then he finally lightly pressed his lips to yours. Your entire body came alive and it was just the beginning. He teased you yet again by pulling away a little when you tried to deepen the kiss so you pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan that made your quiver. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging for release. 

You pried his lips open with your tongue, grazing it over his fangs, nudging his tongue to meet yours. It felt so familiar yet so different this time, real. Without breaking the connection he pushed your hips upwards towards the table and you sat down with your legs apart, your centre burning like fires of Avernus. He positioned himself with his hardened cock resting against your lower belly, felt it twitching as you closed the miniscule distance between you, hugging his slim hips with your thighs and hooking your legs around his. 

He broke the kiss gently, allowing you to take a breath and steady your heartbeat. “Careful, darling, don’t faint on me…as much of a compliment as it would be.” 

Sly little shit. He was right though, he could feel everything with his heightened vampiric senses. It allowed you to regain some semblance of sanity, which was a miracle all by itself. 

There was one important thing you had to come back to despite telling yourself not to dwell on the past.   

…it brings up the feelings of disgust and loathing. 

“What’s wrong, are you unwell?” he asked with a hint of worry when you didn’t react immediately. 

You shook your head. “No, it’s just…I thought of the things you said at Moonrise, and–”

“Hush, love,” he pressed a finger to your lip. His eyes blazed with fire matching your own. “Let me tell you something. A confession, if you will…I asked Gale to send me a pigeon once a week to tell me how you’re faring. If you’re still…you know. His answers were always, I quote: ‘She’s talking about you constantly, with a tedium that I’m sure many would say rivals my own. Why can’t you go see her and spare us all this torment? Insufferable, both of you’.” He mimicked Gale’s way of speaking and finished with a dramatic eye roll. You had to suppress a snort. Unbelievable that this man enlisted poor Gale into sending him information, even more unbelievable that Gale agreed and kept it a secret.

“Trust me, I wanted to but I wasn’t sure I was ready. I’ve spent all this time thinking about us, about my difficulties. Figuring it out, fantasizing even. It was very, uh, helpful. And then that poor excuse for a skeleton gave me the perfect opportunity I couldn’t miss. You showed up…and here we are. I am ready.” He squeezed your hips, pulling you near again, amusement and challenge crossing his godlike features. “Now shall we go back to you adorably trying to seduce me?”

You poked him in the chest playfully. “I’ve already succeeded at this daunting task, don’t you think?”

He guffawed. “How so, darling? I still have all my clothes on.”

Insufferable indeed. In spite of his assurances, you wanted to be mindful. He deserved to be loved with utmost care and attention. To feel safe enough to stop if need be.

“Tell me about those fantasies,” you prompted him, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’d rather show you.”

You gasped as he lifted you from the table and guided you onto his bed. He laid you down, gliding on top like a cat, not breaking eye contact. Your skirt rolled up as he did so, exposing the already soaked underwear and he pressed his crotch right against it. “This is already so much better than my imagination.”

A thrill ran through your entire body from head to toe. Not many things tasted sweeter than his praise. 

“May I?” you asked, tugging on one of the buttons of his shirt. “Yes.”

The lower you went, the shakier your hands were but it was worth the reward. Every single lean muscle on him was sculpted to perfection. A soft, barely audible sigh escaped his lips as you caressed his pectorals and slid the shirt away to fully reveal his glorious upper body. 

“My turn now,” he smirked. Safe to say your blouse didn’t survive unscathed as he ripped the buttons off with his teeth. Fuck. “I’ll fix it later,” he mumbled, ripping your bra as well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The skirt followed along with the drenched panties. He scanned you, eyes blazing with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, robbing you off reason. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

More words of praise making your mind spin and your body tingle.

“Show me what’s next,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice anymore. 

“I’ll let you guess, my dear.”

Accepting the challenge, you grabbed his shoulders gently, pushing him off of you onto his back. You searched his features for unspoken approval or signs of discomfort as you towered over him, slowly drawing your hands towards the waistband of his trousers. “Getting warmer,” he murmured enthusiastically.

“How very predictable,” you retorted, sliding down to grab the waistband with your mouth, not letting your eyes off of him. He bucked his hips up as you tugged, exposing his raging erection clothed in elegantly embroidered underwear, and lean thighs. There was nothing on this man’s body that wasn’t absolutely infuriatingly exquisite. He bucked his hips again and moaned as you slid down the underwear too, baring his cock adorned by a string of precum glistening at the tip. Smut peddlers at Sharess’s Caress would be struggling to describe the beauty in front of you. There were simply not enough words and none of them were accurate either.  

“Breathtaking.”

“I know.”

“Cocky ass.”

He grinned and took your arm, dragging you on top of him. “But that’s what you like about me, darling, or not?” 

“Hm, I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Oh, and what might help with this terrible ordeal?” he asked with a smug look. To Hells with him. Instead of answering, you brushed the palm of your hand against his cock in a taunt, the slickness of precum wetting it. As you attempted to lift it, he placed his hand on yours and squeezed. He found your mouth as you began stroking his length, his sweet moans muffled with the kisses. Your willpower was stretching thinner and thinner, you wanted him inside you, filling you up, but you’d do only what he wanted to do. His pleasure, real pleasure was more important than your own. Being able to touch him, feel him against your skin, was already enough of a gift after so much time apart.

“Tighter and faster, darling,” he urged you and so you did as he asked, tightening your grip. His fangs almost cut your lip as he moaned loudly, deliciously. He jerked his hips up each time your hand went down in perfect sync, searching for release. After a few more strokes you felt him spasming, cum spraying over his abdomen. “Have you decided now?” he quipped, brushing stray hairs from your face. “Nuh huh.” You smiled and collected some of the cum on your fingers, licking them clean. 

“Gods below,” he hissed.

“Care to show me if there’s more on your list of fantasies?”

“Indeed,” he answered simply, his eyes burying into you, scorching you whole. “It’s you.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to react, arresting your mouth with soft pecks, sending tingles from head down to your toes as he pinned you down to the mattress. Every sense was on overdrive, your magic crackling within you. As the kisses grew more intense, the more ferociously the magic whirled within like a thunderstorm and your heartbeat began racing more frantically, his body responded too, his cock getting stiff anew.

He hooked his right leg under yours, pausing the kiss to study your face. I want you, I want it all, you wished to say but he rendered you speechless as he moved his hips, aligning himself at your entrance. 

Affection.

Admiration.

Desire. 

You hoped he could see it as he looked at you. Maintaining eye-contact, he slowly pushed his cock inside you, stretching you, making you whole with small calculated thrusts at first. Wrapping your legs around him, you invited him even deeper, the thrusts becoming more rapid, forcing you to close your eyes but you couldn’t, you couldn’t break away from his gaze.    

“Are you still with me?” you muttered. This felt different and was different than the trysts in the forest but you had to be certain. He tittered, knowingly. “I’m here, my love.”

He pulled out completely and entered you again, pressing his mouth on yours, stifling a heavenly whimper and causing you to lose a bit of control. You swung your arm away as lightning crackled at your fingertips. Just in time. A lightning bolt shot out and hit one of the big blood jars on the shelf, blood spilling everywhere. 

“You darling, are a menace, aren’t you?” 

“No more than you are,” you countered, kissing the tip of his nose. 

“Touché.”  

Grinning mischievously the way only he could, he awarded you with yet another agonizingly slow thrust, and another, and another, your whimpers and moans mirroring his own. He was still fully present, your bodies in perfect sync. Tiny droplets of sweat were trickling down his forehead, his luscious locks slightly disheveled. He’d always been a walking sin but at the given moment, a whole nunnery would go straight to the Hells just by looking at him. 

He picked up the pace, pushing harder and you were coming close, so close, the throbbing sensation robbing you of breath entirely. “You feel…so incredible,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Astarion, please!” you begged, tightening your hold around him and arching your back. So close. He sucked your lower lip, grazing it with his fangs but you couldn’t care less. You could feel him tensing against you and you kissed him, tasting blood on your tongue as you climaxed together in harmony. Another lightning bolt shot out of your hand as you did, smashing more bottles. A hearty chuckle reverberated in his throat when he looked at the carnage of blood and broken glass on the floor. 

"Oh my...what do you have to say for yourself now, dear?"

"I love you."

He smiled blissfully and nuzzled your neck. "That works, I suppose."

Later, after you helped him clean the mess you’d made and you wound up tangled in the sheets again crying out his name even louder, he told you those little words. And this time they weren’t a lie.

~~~

“You look positively radiant, my friend,” Gale greeted you the next day as you arrived to Sorcerous Sundries.

“And bringing some good news to boot,” you said, blushing as you recounted last night's events. “No need to send Astarion more letters about me.”

The wizard opened his mouth like a fish and quickly scuttled to the corner of the room to rearrange the bookshelves that didn’t quite require more rearranging.

[blueraineshadows]

Hey! I have a request for you. Sebastian escapes Azkaban, comes after the MC (female and is also in Slytherin) who turned him in but regrets it. She tries to warn the Ministry about him but he stops her (you choose either physically or with his wand) and fluff happens.

PS I love all of your stories :)

Thank you for the request! 💜 I hope this is okay, and thank you for your kind words x

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC 💚

Knowing that MC was safely away at work, Sebastian kept discreetly to the shadows as he approached her home, his eyes glancing about to check for anyone nearby. He did not want to be seen. After managing to escape the clutches of a dimwit prison guard, he was not about to earn himself a one way ticket back to Azkaban by getting caught right outside her door.

Tugging the stolen cloak about his shoulders a little closer, he had to adopt the rather irritating act of hijacking her lock to get in. With no wand now, he had to use muggle tricks instead.

Slipping inside, he closed the door and stood there for a moment in MC's kitchen. He eyed the cluttered work surfaces, the haphazard way she had stacked things, the spillage of something down a cupboard door. She hadn't changed. She was still messy and chaotic. It made his lips twitch fondly.

But then he remembered why he was here, and his expression turned dark. He moved through the kitchen towards the fireplace, past her armchair and on to the stairs. He paused at the bottom looking up, the scent of her surrounding him, teasing his senses. An ache began in his chest, but he shoved it aside.

He climbed the steps and found himself in her bedroom, the blankets on the bed thrown back where she had climbed from it this morning. He moved to trail his fingers over the colourful bedspread, trying to imagine her laying there, that beautiful hair of hers spread across the pillow.

He sucked in a breath and tore his gaze from her bed, his pulse fluttering in his neck. He had to stop this fantasising. She hadn't returned his feelings. How could she have? She had betrayed him.

To one side was a dresser with a mirror above it. He gazed at his reflection, the hollow cheeks, the dark eyes and the tired, grey expression. It wasn't a pleasing sight.

He found her bathroom and set about cleaning himself up, using her soap and towels to scrub the grime from his skin. Months of prison filth was embedded in his flesh and he sighed as the hot water cleansed him. He took a moment to appreciate the clean feeling, the softness of her towel. Things he had thought never to know again.

But he was out now. And he was not going back there. Ever.

He dressed in the clothes he had stolen, stuffed into a drawstring bag. He fluffed at his hair, grimacing at the hack job he had made of cutting it. But, it would have to do.

Now all he had to do was wait. Wait for MC to come home. Then he could get his answers.

....*....

MC yawned and stretched, her eyes grown sleepy as she read her book. She put it aside and put out her lamp before climbing the stairs to her bed.

It had been a long day. During work, she had received the news that Azkaban was missing a few prisoners, and her heart had wobbled dangerously when it became clear that Sebastian was on the list.

She had felt sick, rushing to the ladies room, stomach churning. Guilt, fear, loss...it was a roiling bubbling mess inside her and she had barely made it through the afternoon.

Ominis had sent an owl, asking if she would be alright, his fear being that Sebastian would track them both down for revenge. It had left MC feeling cold. She had replied to Ominis insisting that she would be fine. She was strong, capable, and had previous experience in knocking Sebastian down if it came to a duel.

But she had made sure to check the house before retiring for the night, double checking the door was locked, because it had been undone when she had returned home - her scatter brain always let her down.

Her house was safe, secure, with only her in it.

As she prepared for bed, her thoughts were filled with the boy who had charmed her at school with his smile, his flirting, his intelligence and wit. When things had turned darker, more dangerous, she had given in to the temptation, learned all he had to teach her. The power, the destruction made easy by a simple flick of her wand.

Even now, she felt the lure of that darkness, it whispered to her, promising potential. Mostly, she kept a lid on it. She didn't want to end up meeting a similar sticky end as those she had brought down over the years.

The fear of being caught casting Unforgivables had led her to cut back on it, and she was less prone to seeking out trouble these days. Her guilt at turning Sebastian in may have been a cause for it. She was ambitious, but the label of hypocrite didn't sit well.

The decision to turn him in had been an awful one, leaned on by people who were supposed to know him best. It had never sat right with MC, what they did. And she had regretted it every day since, missed Sebastian so dreadfully that she had come to the conclusion that she had felt more deeply for him than she had ever realised.

She pulled a small trunk from under her bed and lifted the lid. Inside were memories, items that reminded her of the better days she had shared with Sebastian. There were also letters that she had written, but could never send.

Her eyes teared over as she pulled out a leather wrap, unrolling it to reveal the charcoal sketches she had made of his face. Drawn from memory, the likeness uncanny, she had wanted to capture his image so that she would never forget. Given how easily her fingers had drawn out his features, she was unlikely to forget him so quickly.

Leaving the drawings out on the dresser top, she climbed into bed, using her wand to put out the light before leaving it on the nightstand. She settled down and drifted into a fitful sleep.

....*....

Pale moonlight filtered across the bed making MC's skin look almost ghost like as she slept. Sebastian stood beside the bed, her wand in his hand and stared down at her.

Oh, but she was beautiful.

His eyes gobbled up the line of her nose, the delicate curve of her jaw. Her hair did indeed look soft and inviting as it lay against her pillow. And her mouth, gods, those pretty lips, slightly parted, full and tempting.

He wanted her, and he hated her.

Underneath that beauty was a deadly witch, powerful, smart, and with the utter nerve to betray a friend. He had seen her, he knew her, she was capable of being darker than any of them, and yet it was him that had paid the price.

His hand flexed around her familiar wand. Without it, she couldn't hurt him, couldn't capture him so easily. He fully expected her to turn on him and send him right back to Azkaban. She had done it once, why not again?

He had suffered because of her.

But he had also suffered through his loss of her.

He tightened his face, readied himself and pointed her wand at her beautiful face. His fingers flexed and then he ever so carefully drew the tip of it up over her cheek, dragging the wood up to touch her hair. She twitched and moved, and he paused, holding his breath.

His heart thudded in his chest. He wanted answers, he wanted the truth out of her, and he wanted her to grovel for his forgiveness. His body, however, just wanted her. It was highly distracting.

He moved the tip of her wand to her lips, hovering just above them, his tongue sliding to wet his own in anticipation. She moved a little, rolling to her back and her eyelids fluttered.

He swallowed hard and as her eyes blinked open, he pressed the tip of her wand underneath her chin. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared up at him and she made to move, but he pressed the wand a little harder into her flesh.

"Don't move," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes dropped to take in the sight of her own wand being used against her, her gaze flew to his and he watched her throat work. She gave a careful nod and dragged her hands from the bedding to hold them up in surrender.

"Sebastian," she croaked. She licked her lips. "What are you doing?"

"Why did you do it?" He asked. He had meant to sound cold, angry, but the sight of her before him, those eyes staring up at him, unravelled the shield he had wanted to hold up. Instead, he sounded raw, broken and utterly sad.

She flinched, her face crumbling, and she shook her head. "I'm so sorry..."

He had to look away. Isn't that what he wanted? Didn't he want her to grovel and apologise? Why did it tug on him to see her do it?

She took advantage of him turning his eyes from her. She gripped his wrist and bent his arm back savagely, scrambling up onto her knees. His head whipped back towards her, cursing his own stupidity for forgetting in that instant what a little vixen she could be.

Her fingers were trying to prize her wand free of his grip. "Oh no, I don't think so," he muttered. He reached for her, his fingers sliding into the silky softness of her hair and taking hold in a firm grab. He pulled her head backwards and she uttered a short, sharp cry.

He ripped his wrist from her grip and pressed the wand to her throat. She stared up at him, eyes wide. "What are going to do, Sallow? Kill me too?"

He pulled at that silky hair and she winced, gritting her teeth. He leant down close to her face, her eyes glued to his. "And what are you going to do, MC?" He asked. His voice was in control now, low and cold. "Are you going to send me back? Will you betray me again?"

She made another grab for her wand and he jerked out of her reach, the movement pulling on her hair again. A frustrated cry left her mouth and he smiled.

"Let me go," she hissed. "Ominis will be here soon."

He chuckled and moved his mouth to her ear. "Liar," he whispered.

He felt her shiver. Interesting.

"I should Apparate us both to the Ministry," she bit out. She used both hands to grip hold of his jacket. "The Dementors can have you."

He tilted his head as he looked down at her. "Now, that's not very friendly," he said. "I only want to talk to you."

She shifted, trying to get better balance on the bed with her knees. Not wanting to take the risk that she would try to Apparate them, he shot a spell at her wrists while they were close together, binding them.

She gasped and let him go, staring at her wrists in shock.

"Be a good girl, now," he said. He released her hair, the soft strands sliding over his palm as he withdrew his hand.

She looked at him. He was about to take a step back, but she launched forward, grabbing his jacket and throwing him down on the bed. Immediately she sat on his torso, straddling him to pin him down, her nightdress riding high up her thighs. Her bound wrists didn't stop her from wrapping her hands around his throat.

The feisty little bitch.

"My wand," she said. "Drop it!"

He smirked and shifted, bucking his hips up a little and making her tip forward. The pressure of her hands at his throat increased, but he managed to shove her wand into his waistband, pushing it right down into his trousers where it snagged in his underwear.

If she wanted it, she would have to get it herself.

Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills, she squeezed her fingers a little, and he refused to give her the satisfaction of caving. His throat was constricted and he was trying to suck air in through his nose while gritting his teeth, his lungs beginning to burn.

Even with all that, he quirked an eyebrow and slid his palm up the smooth skin of her bare thigh. She gasped and launched upwards like a scalded cat, landing on the bed beside him. "Bastard," she hissed.

He chuckled, harsh and croaky through his squished throat. He got hold of her easily enough and flipped her. Now it was his turn to pin her to the bed. She squirmed against him, hands trying to shove against his chest whilst still bound.

His breaths were coming harder, the adrenaline kicking in. He had to admit it. This was rather exciting. His eyes flared with it as he grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head.

"Still love a good scrap, I see," he said. "You always did have fire in your blood, MC. It was one of my favourite things about you."

She panted, fighting against him, but her eyes...those deep, bewitching eyes, they were staring up at him, pupils dilating as she arched her back and bucked her hips trying to throw him off. She wriggled a leg up to get a knee between them and he laughed, pinning her with one hand and shoving her knee back with the other.

Their legs wrestled a little and her nightgown was now up by her hips. As arousing as this all was, he was not a brute and he pinned his weight against her, pressing her firmly into the mattress. Her wand dug in to his flesh where it was trapped inside his trousers.

"Keep still," he said, firmly. "Like I said, I don't want to hurt you. I just want the truth."

She stilled. Her head fell back onto the bed and she closed her eyes, breathing fast.

"Why did you betray me?"

She opened her eyes and he saw the shine of tears. She shook her head. "I...I don't know," she whispered. "But I regret it. I have done every single day since."

He swallowed thickly. He wanted to believe her. But she was a true Slytherin, cunning, and not afraid to trick him.

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? It must have been real tough living your life out here while I was stuck in that place," he said. "Good job, cosy home, things to look forward to."

Her lips trembled and a tear slid from one eye. Oh she was good.

"I wrote you letters trying to explain, to say sorry," she said. "Of course, I couldn't send them. They are under this bed, along with the duelling gloves that you gave me for my birthday. I kept every letter that you ever gave me, everything. I've even got your Slytherin scarf...it...it still smells like you."

She turned her face away, a deep flush burning her cheeks.

Sebastian blinked. Why would she keep all that stuff? Something hot and suffocating washed over him, the heat of her body pressed so close to his was overwhelming, warmth coiling in his gut and hot blood pumping madly to his groin. He felt himself stiffening and a blush burned his own cheeks.

He released her hands and knelt up to straddle her hips, poised and ready for her to swing her arms at him, but she didn't. She slowly turned her gaze back to him and lowered her bound arms, she reached out, her fingers curling into his jacket.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I can never forgive myself, so I will not ask it of you to forgive me either. But, I am sorry. If I could take it back, I would."

He released a shaky breath and pushed a hand through his haphazard hair. He should go.

He scrambled back off her, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. He felt panic tighten his chest and he clutched a hand to it, his breaths now desperate pants. The walls were closing in and he darted his gaze about the room, feeling a bit dizzy. He grunted and stumbled a little, his back hitting her dresser and sheets of parchment slid to the floor.

"Sebastian," she cried. She sat up, scooting forward. "Are you alright?"

He turned, his hand dropping to support himself on the bed post. He shook his head to clear the dizziness and he frowned. The parchment spread out over the floor was illuminated with the moonlight from the window. He blinked, not sure if he was seeing things. They all had his face on them.

Confused, he bent to pick one up. "What are these?"

MC gasped and reached for it, but he held it out of her reach. They were drawings. "This is me."

She hovered beside him, kneeling up on the edge of the bed. He turned to look at her. "Did you draw these?"

She hung her head. "From memory."

Her voice was raspy, pained. She couldn't even look at him. Something twisted sharply in his chest. He looked at the drawing again, and then at all the others spread across the floor. He was fuller in the face, happier looking, but it was most definitely him.

"Why?" He asked.

"For the same reason I kept all that other stuff," she said. "Because it's you, Sebastian."

"But...but you threw me in prison!?"

She whimpered, her bound hands reaching for him, but he pulled back away from her. Her face fell. "I'm so sorry, please, Seb..."

He winced at the familiar nickname. "I trusted you," he whispered.

"And I betrayed you," she said. "I was wrong."

His eyes narrowed. He studied her face. Was she lying? He looked at her drawing again, the softness of the lines in his face, the attention she had paid to his hair. It almost stole his breath.

He put the drawing on the dresser, and then stepped up towards her. He stared unflinching into her eyes. "How much do you regret it?"

"A lot, every day," she said, quickly.

"Prove it," he said.

Her mouth worked and she glanced around the room before shuffling off the bed. She dropped to her knees and awkwardly tried to drag out a trunk with her bound hands. "Here, look, it's all the stuff I kept," she said. She flipped the lid and sure enough, everything that she had said was there. Even the scarf. She pulled it out, her hands gentle as she touched it. "I don't wear it so my perfume doesn't spoil it."

He nodded. "And?"

"The drawings?" She said, eyeing them all over the floor.

"I'm not sure I believe you," he said. But he could feel his restraint slipping.

She crawled, literally, across the floor to kneel at his feet. She looked up at him and he had to fight to keep his hands at his sides. "I'm so sorry, for everything, Seb, please," she begged. Her eyes glittered with tears. "I can't believe you're here."

"I won't go back there," he said, voice hoarse. He shook his head. "I can't..."

He had to sit. His legs shaking. He had come here wanting to hear it from her own mouth, her betrayal. He had wanted her to beg and grovel and apologise. She had done all of those things and more.

Now what? He was a criminal, an escaped criminal. He had nothing and nobody. What would he do now?

MC got to her feet and went to him. She hesitated, and he wondered what she was going to do. Then she put her bound hands behind his head, pulling him close so that his face was buried into her stomach. She held him there, gently but firmly, her fingers softly stroking his hair at his neck.

She was so soft and warm, her nightdress a thin barrier to the tempting skin beneath. He released a breath slowly through his lips and she trembled at the feel of it. Slowly, his hands came up to her hips, pressing lightly, before moving up to her waist, the curve almost making him groan. His arms moved to wrap around her and she urged him even closer.

He shook and his eyes burned. She was so soft and warm. A sob escaped his lips and he tried to suck it back, but he was gone. His fingers clutched at her nightdress and he pressed his face into her softness, drenching the soft cotton with his tears.

MC held him, her hands smoothing over his hair and neck. "It's alright," she whispered. "I'm here, it's okay."

Sebastian got a hold of himself, his sobs subsiding, but he didn't let her go. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face against her, his hands loosening their grip on her to caress her waist. He breathed in her scent deeply, his exhale hot and heavy. Her fingers curled in his hair and he heard the soft gasp that left her lips.

He wanted her, ached for her.

"I won't tell anyone you were here," she said, quietly. "I could never do that again. What do you need to be safe?"

He stilled. "You," he replied.

"You've always had me," she said. "Even when they took you away, I was yours. I just hadn't realised it until it was too late."

He looked up at her and she brought her hands over his head to cup his face. "I love you," she said.

Gods, he hoped that was true. But her eyes were open, burning with something raw and intense. He didn't think this was a game anymore.

"I love you, too."

Her smirk was devilish as she swiped her thumb over his cheek. "Good. Now, release my hands and give me back my wand before I have to kick your arse."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume you could."

She bent to face him eye to eye, her mouth sinfully close to his. "Oh, I can do it, and you know I can."

Desire, thick and hot swirled through him. His eyes dropped to her lips, a smirk playing on his mouth. "Well, if you want your wand back," he said. He patted his groin. "You'll have to dig it out. I'm afraid it's in there rather snug."

Her gaze lowered to his lap. "Don't tempt me."

His smirk slid towards dangerous. He leant backwards on to his hands on the bed, his legs open. "Go for it," he taunted.

She bit her lower lip. And then her hands went for the fastening on his trousers...

[feyhunter78]

Orange Blossoms Ch 2

Description: Criston and Alicent have escaped the shores of King's Landing.

Ch 3

The children did not cry until the ship had left the harbor. Hoods pulled down over their faces, Helaena tucked under her cloak as Criston whispered stories to Aegon, who held the toy dragon he was so very fond of close to his chest.

Was this a plan born of madness? Would they be caught the moment the guards discovered they’d fled? Surely, she and Criston would be killed. Then what would happen to her children? Would they be named bastards and shunned? Aegon was only four years of age, and Helaena only one, they would not survive on their own.

Alicent held Helaena closer to her, shuddering at the thought of her children alone on the streets. They had caused her great pain, not merely through childbirth, but through their very existence. She loved them very much, but she was a girl when Aegon had been born, a child with a child that she did not want and did not understand.

She glanced over at Criston whose large hand cradled the back of Aegon’s cloth covered head as it rested against the crook of his neck.

Now that they had settled into their cabin, they could remove the disguises from the children. She drew Helaena from beneath her cloak and settled her gently on the bed, while Criston removed Aegon’s cap and did the same before he removed his cloak and laid it on the floor beside the bed.

“Do you not wish to hang your cloak up with mine?” She asked, her stomach rolling with the waves outside.

“You and the children should take the bed; I will sleep on the floor.” He said, simply, using his pack for a pillow.

“Oh, I—” Her cheeks flared red, and she was glad for the dim light of their cabin. She had assumed that they would share a bed, having made such fervent confessions, and agreed to act as husband and wife during their journey.

“I will not take to your bed until we have said our vows at a sept, I would not dishonor you in such a way.” Criston explained, his voice soft.

She nodded, feeling a fluttering in her chest. “I see.” Then she slid under the thin blanket, careful not to wake her children.

Her children, who she continued to tell herself she was taking this risk for. Aegon, her firstborn, her son. He needed so much, which she had been informed was normal for a small child, but it felt as if he needed her constantly. Crying whenever she was out of sight, kicking her and pulling her hair when she would divert her attention to Helaena.

Helaena, her beautiful girl. Her beautiful and sensitive daughter, who made her feel as if all she did was never enough. She could never comfort her properly or keep her from wailing when something was not quite right. Countless nights, she laid awake crying, feeling as if Helaena was a punishment for following her father’s orders and betraying Rhaenyra.

Oh gods, Rhaenyra. She would be so angry, so hurt, and Alicent was not able to leave her a letter of explanation. She wished to tell her friend she was sorry, that she had never wished for this, and that all she wanted was a simple life with those she loved. Alicent truly never wished to hurt her, she was simply a frightened pawn of her father. Perhaps Rhaenyra would emerge better for their actions, though. There would be no one to speak of her dalliance with Daemon, nor would there be any half-brother to steal her throne.

Would they all let her, and the children, go so easily, though? Would they truly believe the scenes she and Criston created? The blood, and torn sheets, the clues meant to send all who saw on a wild goose chase. She prayed so desperately they would.

“Alicent, all will be well.” Criston whispered, giving her a comforting look, the same he would send her whenever they were apart and could no longer exchange familiar words.

All she had ever wanted was to be a mother, and wife, to show her family the love and affection she so sorely missed from her late mother. But Viserys and the children were difficult, and she was so young, so scared.

“We shall have to dye the children’s hair.” She whispered back, wondering if Criston knew how to do such a thing because she did not.

There were so many things she did not know how to do, and it frightened her. How would she survive in Dorne if she did not understand how to do basic household chores?

“It will be a simple thing, do not fret.” He reassured her. “Now sleep, I will watch over you and the children.”

Alicent attempted to force her body to relax, wishing sleep would take her and allow her to remain oblivious of the perils they may soon face, if only for a few hours. Thankfully, The Seven took mercy on her and allowed her to drift off.

Their days on the ship followed a similar pattern, they would wake and reassure Aegon that soon they would be back on land, then Criston would bring them meals, and they would talk while the children played. They stayed in their small room, too afraid that someone would recognize them. Then night would fall, and she would tell the children stories to lull them to sleep. Helaena slept better at sea; the rocking of the ship mimicked Alicent’s own attempts at rocking her without the physical contact that often seemed to upset Helaena.

“I will build her a crib that rocks, and for Aegon I will find him a suitable wooden sword, so he can begin training when he is old enough.” Criston said as he sat on the end of their bed, gazing at her sleeping children.

“I want a garden, and bookshelves.” Alicent said, feeling emboldened by the storm that raged outside. How long had it been since she had voiced her desires so simply?

“Then you shall have them.” Criston said, adding her words to the list he kept in his sketchbook.

“Are you quite sure that you will be welcomed by your mother’s family?” She asked carefully, fiddling with the fraying threads of her nightshift.

After his nameday all those years ago, Criston had delved deep into his maternal history and believed he had found where his mother had come from. Though he told her that he had communicated with his grandmother through many letters over the years, she was hesitant.

“She expressed a deep desire to see me with her own eyes and confirm that I am who I claim to be.”

The idea of placing her and her children’s lives into the hands of anyone other than herself of Criston made her anxious. The skin of her fingers were battered and red, but she had faith in Criston, so she attempted to temper the flames of her doubts. He had yet to steer her wrong.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 5 - Half-Clothed

Today's kinktober prompt: I have a soft spot for one of them being almost fully clothed during sex - probably because the other surprised them naked on their bed but it’s war and they’re so busyyy they can’t afford to fully undress but also can’t resist the quickie

For my beloved @dininginspace

Kept Waiting - 1,153 Rated: E Content: Bottom Obi-Wan, Top Anakin

---

It was hard to plan for nice evenings in the middle of a war - doubly so when you were a General and a Jedi Master. Constantly being called away for important meetings, requested to attend diplomatic dinners and events, and sent off on week long missions left very little time in the way of sitting down for a nice cup of tea, let alone planning a romantic evening.

But when Obi-Wan found out that he and Anakin would be both back in Coruscant for a total of two days - two days in which they had no meetings, no routine, and no expectations - Obi-Wan set it upon himself to do something nice for the both of them. He bought a nice bottle of Ryloth sparkling wine along with a basket of Jogan fruit, showered using spicy soaps he knew Anakin enjoyed the scent of on his skin, cleaned every part of himself thoroughly, before draping himself across Anakin’s bed with nothing on as he waited patiently for Anakin’s arrival.

Only Anakin didn’t arrive - not in the next ten minutes, or the next hour, nor even the next two. When Obi-Wan probed their bond in curiosity he was only met with annoyance - harsh and grating against the back of Obi-Wan’s brows - causing Obi-Wan’s good mood to slip away, leaving him to lounge alone next to a bottle of Ryloth that was quickly losing its bubbles. Obi-Wan had gone from warm and pliable to bored and cold in short order, hiding himself beneath Anakin’s blankets as he scrolled through his datapad, eying the reports that he still had yet to work on with disdain.

It wasn’t until two and a half hours had passed did Obi-Wan feel Anakin again in their bond, still annoyed but less angry as he neared his room. Tossing the datapad down on the bed, Obi-Wan only had time to throw the blankets off and spread his legs before Anakin appeared in the doorway.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit I just went through in the archives,” Anakin said, his head ducked as he shed his cloak and threw it across the room. “Nu kept hovering over my shoulder as I looked for something in the database - as if my mere presence was going to mess up the entire organization of the facilities. She really needs to get laid or—”

Anakin stopped his ranting as soon as he saw Obi-Wan. Brows relaxing, his lips parting, he stared at Obi-Wan as if he’d just sprouted a second-head. For a moment Obi-Wan thought maybe he had - anything was possible with the Force, he supposed - before Anakin’s parted lips twisted into a massive grin, and he leapt on to the bed, tackling Obi-Wan back on to the pillows.

“How long have you been waiting?” Anakin asked between kisses, the press of their lips quick and sweet before he trailed them down Obi-Wan’s neck, groaning as he smelled the vestiges of the spicy soap.

“Not long,” Obi-Wan lied. He laughed when Anakin tickled his sides, hands quick across his form as he dipped lower and—

Anakin’s head shot up, hair already a tangled mess atop his head. His cheeks were flushed bright pink, eyes twinkling with delight. “You’re ready.”

Shrugging, Obi-Wan let out a soft gasp as Anakin pressed a finger into his already stretched and loose hole. “D-didn’t want to have to wait when you finally got here.”

His laugh was swallowed up by Anakin, their embrace fierce as Anakin delved his tongue into his mouth for a sloppy, needy kiss. Groaning, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and held him close, desperate for more as Anakin slipped a second finger in, finger-fucking him quickly with sharp thrusts.

“C-cock,” Obi-Wan panted when Anakin broke away to pepper his jaw with kisses. “Y-your cock.”

Anakin let out an undignified snort, and Obi-Wan could feel the press of his amusement against his neck.

“So eloquent,” Anakin mumbled. Sitting back, he slipped his hand from between Obi-Wan’s legs, Obi-Wan sighing as the pressure was relieved for an unsatisfying moment. Grabbing the banding of his leggings, Anakin pulled them down only far enough to release his cock and balls before he stroked his length, getting it to full hardness in short order.

Grabbing the bottle of neglected lube Obi-Wan shoved Anakin down on to the bed, Anakin letting out a soft sigh as his back hit the mattress. His pretty cock was sticking up between the folds of his clothing, tabards spread apart across his hips, thighs barely visible beneath the black material. Thick strings of precome were already streaming down his length, making his cock glisten in the low light of the bedroom, sullying his clothes in his spend. Anakin always so wet for Obi-Wan that Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure if he needed another coating of lube.

“C’mon,” Anakin said, impatience swirling with desperation in his tone.

Normally Obi-Wan would scold Anakin and remind him about patience; he’d drag his finger along Anakin’s length and order him to strip; he’d brush his lips against the head of Anakin’s cock and tease the tip of his tongue against the slit, collecting the pearls of precome that would ooze out as if by command.

But normally, Obi-Wan hadn’t waited almost three hours for this exact moment.

Squirting an unnecessarily large amount of lube on to his hand, Obi-Wan coated Anakin’s cock in it before using the leftovers on his hole. Anakin’s pupils widened then, gaze following Obi-Wan’s quick movements between his legs, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. With little build-up Obi-Wan quickly straddled Anakin’s hips and reached back, grabbing the base of his cock to steady him before he sunk down on Anakin’s length.

Anakin’s loud moan mixed with Obi-Wan’s soft sigh, the stretch and pressure satisfying after all this time. Anakin was the perfect width and length, the tip of his cock sliding along Obi-Wan’s prostate as he sunk lower, taking him all the way to the base. Squeezing his eyes shut Obi-Wan braced his hands on Anakin’s chest, twisting the dense material of his tunic, streaks of lube spread across the leathers of his tabards. Anakin was petting his thighs and hips, fingers soft but touch trembling as he soothed Obi-Wan.

A moment passed where Obi-Wan enjoyed the sensation of being filled, and of having his hole stretched and pushed into, before he opened his eyes and looked down at Anakin. Anakin seemed completely overwhelmed already, skin beaded up with sweat, curls sticking against the tight cords of his neck, his chest expanding rapidly beneath Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan grinned as he lifted himself up, knees already aching.

“Ready?” he asked.

Anakin returned the grin. “Always.”

[murmursdraconic]

buzz buzz! text incoming with an attached picture. in it, there's a lake surrounding the background with five gyarados all staring at the camera / by default, lance.

[ text. shay(min). ]: I have been summoned by the great council of gyarados to determine my future as a dragon tamer.

[ text. shay(min). ]: they're telling me because I'm not a dragon myself I must henceforth be referred as a human tamer.

paldea hasn't changed his humour, that's for sure.

Shay woke up beneath the wing of Asharas to her PokeGear going off, cloak being used as a blanket while she slept on soft grass, Charizard neck as a pillow.

The image gave her a laugh, not that Lance was around to hear it for his Dad humour.

[Text: Oton] Did you pass their Beam test? You can call yourself a human tamer when you get a significant other and take a break.

She yawned, and stretched... realizing that the picture wasn't anywhere near where she was. Wait did Lance go off on his own while she slept in?

[Text: Oton] You went to that lake without me? RUDE

[Text: Oton] Shouldve woken me up >:C

[Text: Oton] That's where those sushi dragons are I was gonna look for them today!!!

Well she had to get up and go if she was gonna catch Lance at the lake in any capacity now.

[quartzwriting]

Freezing Hands

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Reader (gn/no specific pronouns) (no y/n)

Description: The sanctum has been taken over by snow again, and on Christmas eve...but Stephen tries to keep you warm.

Warnings: non just fluffy Stephen

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: Merry Christmas! And thank you for all the love recently for my Stephen fics, here's another one as your gift! Contains ZERO NWH spoilers. Might go back and edit this one as well.

Part of my DEC 2021 HOLIDAY MASTERLIST

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

“You gotta be kidding me...”

You stood in the doorway of your and Stephen’s shared bedroom. You had really hoped that it would not be in here too. But alas, you stared at the snow and ice that covered every corner and wall, the slippery floor of the hardwood, and the frost that encased the furniture.

All you wanted after a long day of cleaning up snow and managing haywire portals was to sleep in a warm and cozy bed. But the blankets and pillows were sparkling with frost. And it was freezing in the room like the rest of the Sanctum when a portal basically exploded this morning, your huff of annoyance coming out as a cloud in front of you. This was the last thing you needed on a day like this.

“This is the worst,” you mumbled, stepping in and almost slipping on a patch of black ice.

Stephen walked in right behind you, making his way over to the fireplace on the other end of the room to light it with a simple hand gesture. 

“Why did this have to happen on Christmas eve?” you were so annoyed at this point that your desire for sleep made you just want to collapse on the cold sheets and pass out. “I’m so tired...”

“So much for our days off this year,” Stephen remarked, sounding annoyed himself.

“I was really hoping we would come up to a warm-ish bedroom at least.” You grumbled as you rummaged in the closet for the extra comforters and blankets to replace the frozen ones. You used magic to discard the cold ones and replace them with the fresh ones, the temptation to crawl right in growing.

“Hopefully it will warm up in here soon,” Stephen said as he watched you strip off your soggy gloves and rubbed your hands together. “Come here.”

You did, boots crunching in the ice and snow, and settling yourself in a hug against him next to the fire. You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his hoodie slightly cold to the touch. The cloak on his back followed his arms to wrap around you, encasing you in a warm embrace.

“Let’s warm up here first, then we’ll head to bed.”

You hummed in agreement and nodded, still against his chest trying to stay warm. Your hands found themselves reaching around to find warmth under his puffy coat. Stephen’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. He kissed your forehead.

Being in his arms and being in the growing warmth of the fire was easing your stress a little. 

The room had warmed up a little so the two of you crawled into bed, still wearing a few layers. Stephen made sure that you were cozy, tucking in the sides of the blankets to block out the cold. He clung to you, being a little more cuddly than he usually is. You giggled when he nuzzled his face into your neck and squirmed when he ran his hands down your torso and back up your shirt.

“Stephen, you hands are freezing!”

They trembled from the combination of their scarred damage and suffering from the cold himself. But they found refuge in the warmth under your clothes. It was playful torture, you trying to get away from the cold while he poked fun at you while holding you.

He laughed beautifully, only to snuggle into you further.

“They’ll warm up soon, so will you.”

But you did not sleep well. You had woken up throughout the night, suffering from the cold. Despite the blanket layers, being submerged inside one of his shirts, and his body warmth making you feel emotionally safe, you were in distress. 

In the mid darkness of Christmas morning, you were awake yet again. You were too cold again, trying to hide your face from the chilly air by hiding under the covers. Your body shivered, feeling the low temperature deep in your bones. 

Stephen was spooning you from behind. He had not let go of you the entire night. For most of the time he was dead asleep, not aware of your constant struggle that was going on. But this time he felt you shift and stir in his arms, and the little grumble that came out of you as a whine..

“Are you alright?” He said it in your ear, softly and voice laced with sleep.

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong?” He was half asleep still, but any attention he could muster was on you.

“It’s still so cold.”

It was impossible to get any closer to you. But somehow he did, entangling his legs with yours and breathing on your cheek. He did not leave any part of you alone, his now warm hands running across your cold skin. 

There had been this sweetness that overtook him through this, one that only came out during certain times. Maybe it was something about seeing you so cold and stressed during the last day. You really loved this part of him, an emotion only reserved for you.

“Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

You had honestly forgotten with the blizzard through the sanctum yesterday and your difficulty sleeping. But all you wanted was to go back to sleep. And stay in bed in the morning, staying cuddled with Stephen. That sounded like the perfect Christmas morning. 

[waybrights]

i wanted to read soft sashanne so i wrote some myself <33 as per usual this hasn't been edited and any spelling mistakes do not exist.

---

anne really hates sleeping in caves.

you would think she'd be used to it by now, having slept in a fair few during the last ten months of her life, but it never got any easier. with the sound of water dripping from a source she could never identify and the insistent cold breeze that even the thickest blanket couldn't keep out.

it was awful.

if she was feeling really dramatic she might even say it was hell.

the only thing that made it worthwhile was the body pressed against her's, a warm hand weakly wrapped around her wrist and small breaths hitting her neck.

anne lifted her head off the balled up cloak sasha claimed was a pillow to look at her friend. she looked small without her armour, much smaller than anne remembered. young, anne thinks when sasha mumbles in her sleep, her head brushing against anne's chin. sasha looks young.

that shouldn't be much of a surprise, they were only thirteen. but war changed people, forced them to grow up even when they didn't want to. sasha's face was sharp, her lips always set in a thin line and eyes glinting with something anne couldn't recognise (it wasn't determination, nor fear. it was something else. something that made anne's heart tighten every time she noticed it). she looked like a soldier in every way.

except in that moment, when she wiggled closer in her sleep, a tiny smile gracing her sleeping face when anne brought up a hand to her scalp.

in that moment, she looked like sasha. the girl who would get excited over a dress in the store window and would try every flavour of ice cream just to say she had. the sasha that hadn't been through hell and come out the other side even colder than before, the act she would put on now an integral part to who she was.

laying in anne's arms, all of the bad things, the sharp things, fell away and all that was left was one of anne's best friends.

she couldn't stop the smile that grew on her face at the sight of sasha, somehow more comfortable on the cave floor than she ever was during their sleepovers. the way she used to toss and turn all night now non existent as she lay there like a cat.

"you're staring."

the sleep heavy grumble shook anne out of her musings.

"wha-?"

"you're staring at me, annie," sasha whispers, moving slightly to wrap her arms around anne's waist.

"how'd you know?" is all anne can ask, a blush working its way up her face the longer she looks at sasha.

"i have my ways," sasha yawns, lifting her head to smile softly. "but now i want to know why."

"what? you don't have ways to figure that out too?" anne laughs quietly, watching as sasha forces her eyes to stay open.

"mmm, this is my way," she responds with a silly grin. "i'm asking nicely."

"never thought i would see the day."

"i'll force it out of you if you keep on like this," she says, but her eyes have fallen shut and her head is bobbing with all her remaining energy.

"go to sleep, sash, i'll tell you later," anne says gently, turning onto her side so she can pull sasha into her chest.

"you better," she mumbles, pressing her face into anne's chest. "i won't forget, annie."

"i know sash."

anne once again brings a hand to sasha's hair, running her fingers through the strands like she'd seen her mum do.

"g'night."

"sleep well," anne whispers, a content smile on her face.

yeah, maybe sleeping in a cave isn't so bad.

[books-and-catears]

Welp, since I’m a regular now; I’mma just park my chair here and spin the idea wheel. And so the idea wheel has decided!

Let’s have the Brothers and Undatables react to MC just barging in unexpectedly while they’re busy doing whatever. Everyone’s just vibing together at Diavolo’s talking about things, playing games, and all dat jazz and suddenly MC comes in with a blank face before they get a sad expression (they’re this close 👌🏾 to having a breakdown, it’s so sad).

MC:....Can I have a hug? 🥺 *says weakly as they were seconds away from crying*

Bby needs comfort! (Let’s just say they recently lost a loved one and they want some affection)

My first ever regular. You have no idea how much I cherish you. Thank you for the funniest and angstiest asks ever. This hits too close to home. I've lost two very close people to disease and suicide in the last few years and the feeling is horrible. So this might end up being a bit self indulgent... apologies.

Please if any of your friends seem not okay, check up on them regularly. Even the adults in your life. And most importantly check up on yourself. Take care okay?

I will do my best to do this justice too. Sorry if it's a little late college and extra classes are a pain sometimes.

It was not news you were prepared to receive. Not that day. It was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Lord Diavolo had announced a small party just for Council and the exchange students. Asmo had taken hours to get you ready. Everyone was excited and in good spirits, clinking their glasses and cheering for a joyous reunion. There was music, dancing and laughter so loud, it felt like it was echoing all across Devildom.

And yet here you were in the bathroom, bent over a sink, staring at yourself in disbelief. You had received horrible news from the human world.

A last message an old friend had left for you.

"Hey MC, thanks for being kind to me. Although we have a long and sweet history, it felt good to reconnect and feel wanted in my last few days. Thanks for the last hug, MC. It was the best one I've ever had."

What kind of bittersweet message was this? What was the point of making them feel wanted if they still left anyway?

No you must keep your composure, you think. The laughter keeps echoing louder. While internal screams creep up your throat. You have to go back before they start worrying about you.

The doors to the ballroom feel heavy as you push through. "Hey look! MC's back! Now we-- MC...?"

You don't know what face you were making, but everyone went quiet. Some looked horrified, some worried and some panicked. You felt your head go dizzy with the pain, tears stinging the corners it your eyes.

Looking directly at one of them, you croaked out the first thing that came into mind.

"C-could I have a hug?"

Lucifer

This man isn't a hugger. But for you he'd make an exception every day.

Especially when you asked for it so desperately.

Walk up to you swiftly, holding the back of your head and pressing it to his chest, while his other arm wraps around you.

"Would you prefer to spend some time in private?" He whispers as you break into soft sobs in his arms and nod.

"Excuse us. We'll be back shortly. Anyone who follows us will face consequences. MC needs some time alone." He calls out to the rest and whisks you away to his room.

Makes you sit in his lap as he cradles you while you cry. Keeps telling you it's not your fault and you tried your best.

Mammon

Someone save this boy, he is a mess himself.

He feels guilty already. He can't stand to see you this way. What couldn't he protect you from??

Aren't you the one who rushes to give people hugs?

He returns the favour. Sprinting towards you and engulfing you instantly in his arms.

He feels your shaky breath as you cling on to him and goes bezerk.

"Oi. I'm taking MC home." It's the most serious he has ever been.

Doesn't hesitate to bring out his wings and fly you home as soon as possible. He cups your face as you cry, his fingers wiping down each tear. His eyes are pained looking at you like this, it wasn't even your fault. You tried till the end didn't you?

Leviathan

This man's protective trigger has been switched. Who dare be the cause of this?

You're his cheery best friend. He simply won't stand to see you like this.

Runs towards you and hugs you as tight as he can, like you've done for him so many times. Embarassment be damned.

You asked for a hug, he will definitely give you one. You grab onto his jacket with trembling fingers and lean into him.

"MC would you like to go home ?" He asks softly, patting your head. You nod softly.

Takes you home as fast as possible, and lays you down in his tub. When start crying violently he starts to tear up alongside you. Losing a friend isn't easy afterall.

Satan

His first instinct was violence. His fist tightening, about to murder whoever did this to you.

But the moment you raised your arms, asking for a hug in that small voice, it was like looking at a helpless kitten in pain.

Another one who sprints towards you to hold you close. His hug feels gentle yet urgent at the same time.

He cupped your cheek, and stared as your eyes grew misty. "Don't worry we're getting out this instant." Slammed the doors behind him as he left. A subtle message to leave them be.

He took you to common room, near the fireplace to warm you up, one of his arms always around you, as you wailed and choked on your tears. He presses kisses on your head too and tells you how kind you were. You did your part. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions.

Asmodeus

He is gasping and tearing up at the sight of you. Oh you poor thing who dare hurt you?!

How could he ever say no to your hugs? Especially now when you needed him most?

He comes at you with such speed that you both almost topple over. He rubs your back and arms trying to calm you down with his touch as he hugs you.

"Would you like to be alone with me MC?" The moment you nod, his wings are out and you're soaring through the air until you find yourself in his bath.

You lean against him and cry your heart out, he holds you from behind, pressing kisses on your head whispering it's okay.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is heartbroken. Why do you look like that? Where are you hurt?

He immediately hates that look on your face. He must do something to fix it immediately.

Runs and lifts you up in his arms and holds you so close to himself, his arms providing endless protection.

"MC will food make it better?" You shake your head so he takes off. He doesn't care about the feast he missed, he just wants you to be okay.

Flies you into his room and gives you plushies to hold onto while he gets you all your favourite food. Will hold you tight as you sob into his chest and will feed you later on cause he knows how exhausting crying can be.

Belphegor

He knows that face. And he knows the pain behind it. And now he's feeling it too.

Who did this? Who dared? Tell him their name and they're gone.

A hug, huh? He's ready to give you much more than that if you ask.

Walks towards you and wraps you up in his jacket and then his arms. His hug is so warm and soft you could fall asleep right there.

"Let's go lie down together." He will take you home and put you down in his bed, bundled up in his blanket, his soft pillow under your head. Pulls you flush against him as you sob and scream into his pillow.

Solomon

He is human. Of course he knows the face of ultimate pain. He's been through it so many times he's made himself immune.

But he wasn't immune to yours. Your ever smiling face - that was what he liked. This irked him, made him restless.

He's next to you in the blink of an eye, wrapping his arms around you, cloak and all, his mouth pressing down on your head.

"Let's take it to the sky shall we? Don't worry I've got you." He says softly. You nod, your fingers grasping at his shirt.

And in mere seconds you are soaring above the clouds, the gentle air cooling your burning heart as you cry into the wind. He holds you close and whispering to make you feel better.

Diavolo

He has seen this face only once before. When Lucifer came to him Lilith dying in his arms.

He saw the look on yours and he was determined to help you however he could. And if it started with a hug so be it.

Takes big strides and hoists you up in his arms, as you wrap your shaking arms around his neck and press your face into his jacket.

"The party is over. MC shall stay with me tonight I'll send them back when they feel better." Gone was his usual cheery tone. He seemed distraught, angry almost.

Took you to his bedroom and laid you down softly, still holding onto you tightly, keeping you from falling apart as you sob into his arms. Takes the next days off to be next to you.

Simeon

His emotions mirror your own. Seeing you in such pain, makes him feel the same.

His heart is breaking seeing you this way. He can't hold you fast enough.

He swiftly runs to hold your hands first. He feels them tremble in his own and he wraps himself around Immediately, cradling your head delicately.

"Let's get you away. You'd like that won't you?" He says running his fingers through your hair. You let you a breathy yes and he's off.

You land in Purgatory hall, curled up into him on the couch, freshly brewed flower tea on the table. He holds you close as you cry into his arms. Tells you that your friend is in a better place because you healed their soul before they left.

Barbatos

You made the usually composed demon crack. Even if for a moment, he felt the need to do something extreme.

What was causing you this much discomfort? He was ready to eliminate it.

A mere hug? Is that what would make you feel better? He is ready to deliver.

He's there before you know it, holding you like delicate royalty. You could crumble at how soft he was for you.

"Would you prefer somwhere more quiet?" He asks. You only need to nod once and he's already sweeping you off your feet and into his chambers. Picks the most calming teas for you as he sits by your side holding your hand.

Luke

He knew the demons were no good. Of course it was a matter of time before MC got hurt again.

He was about to cry looking at you, ready to throw hands at the whoever caused this.

A hug? A hug will help? YES OF COURSE.

He flies straight into, wrapping his little arms around your neck. Like a baby brother comforting a distraught older sibling.

"Come on MC! Let's get away from here!" He says and flies you off to purgatory hall. He brings you to the kitchen and starts whipping up your favourite desserts to cheer you up.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion 

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you. 

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading! 

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count:  5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

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--

This is what dreaming felt like. 

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan. 

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better. 

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it. 

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real. 

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him. 

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did. 

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind. 

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle. 

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes. 

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met. 

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes. 

--

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat. 

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world. 

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too. 

--

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously. 

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.” 

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart. 

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?” 

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss. 

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded. 

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back. 

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity. 

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair. 

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question. 

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before 

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.  

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement. 

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection. 

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece. 

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you. 

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary. 

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled. 

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline. 

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer. 

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any. 

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him. 

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile. 

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team. 

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet. 

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.” 

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth. 

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places. 

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack. 

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters. 

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!” 

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile. 

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap. 

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.  

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly. 

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view. 

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod. 

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?” 

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried. 

--

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles. 

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal. 

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day. 

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light. 

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time. 

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that. 

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin. 

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball. 

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid. 

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you. 

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.  

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you. 

“Now, you I believe.” 

That made you smile and she returned it. 

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave. 

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

--

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong. 

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[suicidalslasher]

𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 ➤  𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙. & 𝑠𝑡𝑢 𝑚.

In which the reader comes home, completely broken-hearted and her two friends, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, come in to put a smile on her face and show her how much they love her.

WARNINGS:  This is a smut but not well written, lol. It’s mainly just oral, both receiving and giving. (male and female.)  Also, if you squeeze your eyes really tight, you may get a glimpse of slight foreshadowing in which Billy and Stu killed the guy that broke the reader’s heart but blink and you might miss it. Anyways. Enjoy.  

(Y/N) lied upon a soft feather mattress, cocooning herself in the silk sheets. A sad sigh surpassing her lips as the realization settles in, hitting her like a ton of bricks, like a cold bucket of water was thrown on her. She's alone. The room feels empty. Wait, no, scratch that. 

It is empty.  It's dark and cold and lonesome. As many blankets that surround her and although she has many draped around her body, her skin still somehow prickles with goosebumps and she's shivering.  

Though, she knows it's not because she's cold. She isn't shaking because of that. Not really. Before she could stop herself, her eyes start to glisten with tears, the corner of her eyes pooling with water and slowly but surely, they slide down her skin, wetting her cheeks. Goddammit. God fucking dammit, she thinks, reaching over and grabbing the duvet comforter,  she slides it over her head. Broken, silent sobs then proceed to escape past her lips, although she oh so desperately tries to hold them back. She fails miserably.  Then, out of nowhere, she hears a little knock, followed by another.   Rolling over to lay on her stomach, (Y/N) buries her face into the nearest pillow, causing mascara tears to soak and stain the cushion as she continues to cry and sob. Before she realizes it or even can acknowledge it, the window to her bedroom is being pulled up and her friends, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, step inside her bedroom.   "(Y/N)?" (Y/N) is quick to flip around upon hearing her name, her heart hammering wildly against her chest. 

 "S-Stu? Billy? What the Hell are you guys doing here?"  She relaxes, having  seen her friends standing by her bedroom window rather than the man everybody was fearing lately in Woodsboro.  

A masked man with a dark cloak and a spine-chilling voice. She was lucky she hadn't heard what he sounded like, she had enough nightmares as is. It was hard to say whether or not it was a man behind the mask but regardless, whatever sex the person was, they were crazy, inside and out. End of story. (Y/N) makes a mental note, reminding herself to lock her window next time and to keep track of that before she gets comfortable and goes to bed. Especially with what was happening everywhere in Woodsboro. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."  Billy said, walking over to the girl as he sat down next to her,  the mattress sinking beneath his weight. Stu followed, nodding happily as he shows a few VHS tapes, gesturing them over to (Y/N).

 "We brought movies to watch and snacks, too!" He exclaimed as he then pulled out a small plastic bag, dumping out the items onto her bed. 

There was chips and candy and they were all her favorite flavors and brands, too. (Y/N) felt the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes again at the sweet gesture her friends were sharing with her. "Oh... c'mon, don't be such  a cry baby." Stu snickered but he wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and pulled her into a side hug, Billy following right behind, hugging her from her right. 

 "We love you, we've got your back, always, okay?" "What Stu said. Besides, this world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, (Y/N).” "Mhm." Stu nodded.   "I really liked him, that's all..... I should've known it was a set up to get back with his ex." (Y/N) said with a sniffle, running a hand over her face as she tries to rid herself of any left over makeup, especially getting rid of the mascara, although, if she were positive, that and her eyeliner were most likely now resting on the pillow she had cried into rather than on her face. "Well, he's a fucking idiot." Billy growled.   "He doesn't see how perfect you are, (Y/N)." "Billy and I see that, though." Stu said, taking his hand off from her shoulder as he now rests his hand on her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze. It made (Y/N)'s breath hitch in her throat and she bites on her lower lip, nervously. 

What were they doing....? She thinks. “We would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.”  Billy said. "We'd do anything just to see you happy, just to see you smile..." Stu continued. "You deserve nothing but the best, deserve nothing but happiness." "So, please... (Y/N)... let us give you that. Let us show you how beautiful and loved you really are. We love you.... we love you so much-" "We love you so much we'd kill for you." Billy looks over at Stu, giving him a questioning glare and (Y/N) goes to ask what that stare meant but her words are loss and any train of thought she had left the building once she feels both hands of Billy and Stu's on her thighs.

 One on her left, the other on her right. "So.... no movies then?" (Y/N) asked jokingly. Her heart, like earlier, was pounding so loud she swore both boys could hear it against her chest. Her body was trembling as it had done earlier but now, it wasn't from sadness or feeling broken but rather hot and bothered. 

She did always have an attraction to Billy and Stu, she'd be a liar to say she didn't. "We can watch them later. Right now, we want to see those legs of yours sprawled out, give us a view of that pretty pussy." (Y/N) whined softly but she obeyed, and while she did, Billy grunted while Stu spoke softly, "Such a good girl for us. You're our good girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" (Y/N) nodded as she stretched her legs on either side of her. All she was wearing was a thin gown, one that matched her sheets, being the fact both were silk.  

 "Oh.... so pretty, so beautiful." Stu purred, licking his lips, his eyes growing darker while Billy's did the same. "Naughty though.... aren't you, baby? Not wearing any panties." Billy chuckled as he stood up, feet landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud as he walks over to (Y/N), undoing his jeans and the belt that had been neatly placed in the hoops of the pants.  

"Is it okay if you suck me off, darling? You want to be a good girl, don't you?" (Y/N) says nothing, she's unable to speak. It was as if a cat had captured her tongue and ran off with it, and she couldn't get it back from the creature. She feels paralyzed, too. Everything feels as if it's going by too fast.

 What an odd day.... she thinks. She didn't expect this to happen, not now, not ever. But she wasn't angry at it or the outcome of tonight's misfortune. It was just crazy how fast the night changes. "Baby? I asked you a question... If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”   "Y-yes." (Y/N) stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.  "I'd love to suck you off, please, may I?" "Oh!" Stu chirped, giggling as he shook his head from side to side, a wicked grin playing out across his lips. "She's got manners, fuck - we really found the perfect girl, haven't we, Billy?" "Mhm." Billy said, pressing his cock to her lips. "Open up, sweetie. Let's see how pretty you look with a mouth full of cock." While (Y/N) parts her lips open, and as Billy pushes himself in her wet and warm mouth, (Y/N) feels heat against her clit and before she can put two and two together, Stu's devouring her pussy with his tongue and she squeaks, bucking her hips up into his touch.   "Fuck! She tastes incredible. Can't believe I haven't gotten to you sooner." Stu said before pressing his face back in between her thighs, licking and lapping her cunt with his tongue, making her tremble and shake. 

(Also makes her almost choke and gag on Billy's cock as he presses his cock further down her throat.) Above, Billy nodded as he rocked his hips back and forth, eyes half-lidded, not quite shut but not all the way open either, as he grunts out an answer; "She's good with her mouth too, Stu." He said.  

"Not sure I can last long, sweetheart..." He warned and right as the words slip from his lips,  it didn't take less than a second until (Y/N)'s mouth is being filled with Billy's creamy, white load.

 "Oh.... fuck!"  He grunts, pulling back  as he drops down next to her on the bed.

 "Go on, baby. Cum for Stu. You wanna be good for him too, don't you? Go on and cum.... cum all over his tongue, beautiful. I'm sure he'll love the taste of your juices, exploding into his mouth." And fuckfuckfuck.....

FUCK~!!

"O-Oh!"  (Y/N) mewls, bucking her hips into his mouth once more as the sweet release of her orgasm floods out of her and into Stu's mouth. Happily, Stu licks every drop up, pulling back with a very much pleased and satisficed smile.  

 "Both her and her pussy are so sweet." Stu complimented, now crawling up onto the bed and resting beside her, tucking his face into her neck as he presses a few  ghostly kisses on her skin. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

"And what about me?" Billy said with a playful pout.

"I love you too, Billy Loomis." (Y/N) admitted, grinning as she scooted a few inches over, patting the empty spot next to her. "Sleep with us?"  

Billy smiled in reply as he plopped down next to his now lovers, curling up in (Y/N)'s side and kissing the other side of her neck, the way Stu had done previously.  

 "I'll treat you to a good time too,  tomorrow," (Y/N whispered, mainly to Stu but she turned and repeated the sentence to Billy as well. The boys look at each other with a smirk, giving one a knowingly glance before they turned back to (Y/N). 

"Sounds like a plan, baby." The smile she wore across her lips falls into a frown and the boys are quick to sit up, having seen the smile turn upside down. "Baby, are you okay?" "Yeah." "Babe....don't you lie to us." "I'm not." She answers truthfully. "But.... this- I mean, us three, it's real, right?" She gestures in the air with a wave of her hand.  "You won't play with my feelings and hurt me-" "Baby." Billy's voice is rough and cold,  and his grip on her is far from affectionate and soft. "We'd kill for you, remember?" "We love you so much, (Y/N) you have no idea to what limits we'd go to prove that to you.” She didn't understand why the two kept repeating that very first sentence but she didn't question it, didn't think anything of it. She smiled and nodded, rubbing at her eyes now tiredly.

 "I love you both, too. Now... before I get too tired, can we watch those movies you rented?" Billy laughed softly as Stu scrambled up and on his feet, grabbing the candy and the films that had fallen on the bed off of the floor and goes to set the VHS player up, clicking the TV on with a push of a button. 

"You're gonna love these, (Y/N)! It's a new horror movie that came out!" "As long as it's not a slasher with a mask like the one that's hanging around in Woodsboro, I'm fine with anything. Whenever that monster goes away, I'll be fine and more than happy to watch slasher films again... just not now." She says with a laugh. "Don't worry, baby. With us around, you’ll be safe and sound. We’ll protect you.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

[syiano]

I was gonna add Star Lord but now idk JSJSHS

Marvel x Male!Reader

Marvel Preferences: Sleeping Cuddling Positions (Part 2)

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

T'Challa likes to face you while holding your hand, or he can just spoon you. He knows your safe with him, especially when you're in his arms. T'Challa likes to murmur sweet nothings in your ear and kissing your neck as you drift off to sleep.

Erik holds you in rather a protective way; his grip is not too tight, but secure and comfortable. It's going to be difficult to try to pull yourself out of his grasp, and he's also quite a light sleeper. He also likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

Stephen likes holding you close to his chest, while your legs are entangle together. He quite touched starved, and he loves the skin-on-skin contact, and having you close, since he's been usually alone. There would be times where his cloak would swoop in and act as blanket for you guys. (Lol Stephen would just scoot it off the bed)

Clint lets you use his arm or shoulder as a pillow. It gives him a chance to kiss your hair and run his fingers through your hair. He's also the type of guy who would like to watch movies or TV shows with you, holding you close until you both fall asleep, really!

Wade LOVES any position when it comes to cuddling with you. Though he can be annoying when you're trying to sleep, such as making jokes and blurting random things out loud to tell you. You'll most likely have to tell him to be quiet mutiple times and then hugging him, his face in your chest before he finally shuts up. It's not recommended you tell him that any sleeping position is fine, because he will take it literally and think sleeping ontop of you is a good idea.

You would also probably wake up with his legs wrapped around your waist and his arms around you, and then will joke when you complain about it.

[modx-reborn]

Silk ties to bind

Returning my C!Eret posts.

SMUT UNDERCUT! MINORS DNI!

It started as a passing joke that you would never be able to be seated in Eret's court, clothes too rough from your time spent in the forests of the server or just too dirty in general. As you spend hours on end mixing dyes and making messes that stain everything no matter how hard you try to keep things clean.

Only it seemed to make a soft chuckle pass from the monarch you spent so much time with, their demeanour shifting and the conversation dying away afterwards.

Days later it started, the clothes.

New clothes, robes, boots, shoes and even underthings in several colours were delivered to your home, each one fancier and fancier than the last. Deep colours that you know take ages to make framed in gold and silver threads, skirts that would barely cover anything held and decorated in chains, jewellery tucked away in small pouches, each piece fitting for one or more of the sets now showing up at your home.

There is only one person you know of with access to things like this, with the spare income to throw it away on someone else like this. Only there was no reason your mind could cook up as to why they would do this, was it cause of the joke you had made? Was this an invitation to visit the court? Or was this some sort of sick joke you weren't privy to?

Questions lingering and becoming less and less based on reality, thoughts spiralling out of control, finally coming to an end when a letter with the king's seal comes to your door. An invitation to court, with a small request for you to wear one of the items that had recently been delivered, even a cheeky nod towards the more...revealing items being more expected than the others.

On the day of the court, the castle seemed so quiet, attendants rushing away from the main hall rather than towards it, guards talking in hushed voices about this 'closed court', even on arrival things were off usually coats and cloaks were taken and you are ushered to the hall in use but not a single person had asked or moved to take yours when you arrived.

So when the massive doors to the hall open before you, seeing nothing but a small wall of mirrors and Eret is nothing short of jarring, the maid that escorted you gently pushing you in with a soft giggle before closing the door behind you.

"Eret? You. You wanna explain what's going on right now?"

The way they twirl when you speak up makes it clear despite the mirrors that they stood before they had not seen or heard you enter, too lost in their thoughts.

"Ahhh you're here! Come, come over here. And don't worry about anything, I'll explain in a bit."

Their hands are warm when they guide you over, just off from the mirrors sits a pile of blankets and pillows, like a makeshift bed or couch, a small bag sits off to the side tied shut but almost bursting at its seams from whatever has filled it. "Now let's have that cloak thank you, I want o see how you look in one of the things I sent you!" Their hands clap together before reaching for the clasp of the cloak hiding what you wore underneath.

"First I think I am owed an explanation on everything, then ill take my cloak off."

The huff and pout that comes from Eret is cute and ultimately childish but is enough to stop their hands that have started to fiddle with the clasp despite the way you have grasped their wrist. "Well, that's...easy. I just wanted to dress you up, have you dressed as you should be after all you are going to-" their voice stopping short before something passes over their face, "-You deserve to be dressed as well as I am, even if your not a court member, not yet."

The end of their sentence is whispered, their smile shaky and short before they are pouting once again, "Now please can you give me your cloak?"

"The whispering aside, what were you going to say at first the whole 'dressed as you should be'? Eret, you can tell me anything. Your dear to me, if you need me for something you can just ask."

It does pain you to watch them flinch slightly, one of your hands still keeping them from unclasping your cloak, the other reaching out only to be grabbed by their free hand and used to pull you closer. "Do you mean it? That if I needed you, you would help? That you would be willing to listen to whatever I was going to ask you?"

"Of course I do. Eret you were one of the first people to be kind to me, hell you were my first friend and are my dearest person to date. No matter what you could ask I would always be willing to listen."

If it wasn't for their glasses there is no doubt that you would be able to see the way their eyes flick down to where they have pulled you close, only to flick back to the clasp of your cloak. Yet all you do get to watch is as they bite at their lips before speaking.

"Then please just let me take the cloak, and. And sit down, please just. Please."

Letting go of their hands is easy and letting them take the embroidered cloth is much the same, only the way their head flicks down with their gaze is very clear, eyes lingering on the clothing you had chosen to wear. A dress that clearly shows off your shoulders and collarbones, the deep collar leaving most of your chest exposed before cinching at the waist with a belt, when you move to sit the slits of the skirt let your thighs peak through.

"Alright, what now?"

The way they drop behind you is slightly loud even with what you assume to be at least three pillows under them, watching them in the mirrors shows how their hands shake when they reach out, hands gentle when they reach around your shoulders, grasping your hands to pull you back into them.

The way the fabric moves when they do causes more skin to be exposed, their breath shaky and felt as they take in how they had dressed you, even if it was only through providing the clothes. "So beautiful..." bearly a whisper when they do speak, glasses slipping slightly down their nose when they lean forward head next to yours, brown curls tickling against your skin when they turn their head.

"Look at you. Dressed like the ruler you should be."

"Eret-"

"Shhh, so kind, so strong and so so deserving of the throne next to mine. Just look at us, how good you would look drapped in the finest of finery, covered in my gifts...my marks..."

Their voice is airy when they talk, words steadily becoming stronger and stronger, each one a declaration of how good they would be if you let them, if you took up space beside them, ruling with them, letting them keep you and be even more then what they are now.

"God, you don't know how long I've waited, hoped, wanted you to be mine. Next to me, letting me bury myself in you, leaving no doubt for others that you're mine."

White-eyes, catch yours in the mirrors when one of their hands stop you from looking away. "Please, Let me show you what it could look like. Please," it's without a thought that you nod, and when you do the hand that does not hold your face moves, using your hips to pull you further back into Eret's chest.

Settling into Eret's lap brings two things to light, one you are much smaller than the ruler of the SMP and two no matter how you shift or move the press of their cock is hard, a telling sign of how they need you. The first press of their lips to your neck makes your breath shake, and when its teeth and tongue leaving a trail of marks nothing is stopping the whimpers that leave your lips.

Your hands grasping the skirts that barely cover you, before they are taken, guided by Eret's to undo the clasps that hold your dress together, the top half falling away to expose your chest. One of your hands traces the marks that are already starting to bloom, eyes locked to the mirrors still trying to process what is happening.

For such a lieth person Eret is quick to flip the position, you under them as they move down placing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, your head tilted towards the mirrors by one of their hands, making you watch when their lips wrap around one of your nipples. Their other hand supporting you as you arch into the warm mouth laving over your skin, if not for the skirt still barely hanging from your hips, the press of Eret's cock into your sex would be so much stronger.

“God look at you. So perfect like this,”

Their hands are quick to pull your hips forward, pressing harder into you, letting you feel how badly they need you. Gentle fingers digging under your skirts to grasp at your hips and tease against your thighs, fingertips barely brushing against your sex, as you continue to watch your friend mouth their way down your chest proving with every swipe of their tongue that they are going to be so much more.

"Say you'll stay with me. Say you'll be mine and let me shower you with everything you could ask for. Say you won't leave."

"Eret, I-"

"Say. It." Their words are punctuated by two rough bites, teeth marks blooming against your skin as you arch into the feeling.

"I'll stay."

Your words are barely out of your mouth when they surge forward, lips crashing into yours, glasses hastily thrown into the mess surrounding you. The kiss is desperate and messy, like how Eret's hands roam across your body now that they know you won't leave them, and when they pull away their eyes are lidded and breathing just as heavy as yours had become.

It's not the first time you had seen their eyes, but it was the first time you had seen them so hungry. Watching as they flick across every mark they had left on you, taking the mess they had made of your skin before pressing in again capturing your lips before pulling you up and into their lap.

Hands pushing your skirts out of the way, using the grip they had on your hips to grind you down onto their cock, groaning into your mouth as they do. When you pull apart there is a slight sting, as Eret grips your underwear using strength well hidden in their slim frame to rip the material from your frame.

"You won't be needing those, not anymore. If I find you wearing them near me, I'll just take it as an invitation to rip them from you again..."