#you consider ME a worthy presence in your life? im going to jump up and down so high i kick the cieling

[valtsv]

admittedly very drunk housemate told me he's grateful to have met me ;_;

[forcemeanakin]

I CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD AND ONLY ONE PERSON COULD HAVE MADE IT POSSIBLE: INDY. @hanasnx

When I first discovered indy's blog, I knew I had found such a special place here on Tumblr. My own personal Anakin heaven. I fell in love with their fics SO FAST IT'S EMBARASSING. seriously. I daydreamed about "Talk Huttese to me" so much that I wasn't my own self the days after. I almost flunk a test because I was too horny thinking about Anakin and when I noticed I only had 30 minutes left to complete the damn thing.

So when I saw that Indy had written a sequel, I almost fell from my bed. Only one person could do a worthy sequel to such masterpiece.

So this post is basically me kissing Indy's feet and thanking them for boosting my love and lust for the magnificent Hero With No Fear. Knowing that they love when people highlight their favorite parts of their fics, I shall deliver. So buckle up folks, it's about to get absolutely filthy and annoying over here:

--------------------THOUGHTS-----------------------

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been doing well.”  I'll officially consider myself absolute garbage until Anakin Skywalker personally praises me. Till then? Nobody try to convince otherwise. Thank you.

“What are we looking for again?” your tone, feathery light, causes your lover to lend his ear to you so as to hear you over the rustle of passersby. I- UHM. I-I... can I have a sec?

You repeat yourself, shyer than before in response to his abrupt proximity. He maintains that closeness, retracting only to look into your eyes. “An aeromagnifier.” A pause, so he adds, “Do you remember how to say it?” IMMA NEED ANOTHER SEC. HOLD ON. IM WEAK.

 In this moment, you feel ashamed to admit how much you like when he babies you like this. “Yes, yes, I remember.”  I DO FEEL ASHAMED GOD. I'm a person that normally focus on the tiniest details with more attention than I should. I'm an over thinker, an Anakin lover, a cancer woman. in that order. So please know that the way you, Indy, took the time to explain how Anakin bend down to listen to the MC better, to detail how he backed down to look at the MC in the eyes and give her an answer, that... that will forever have a chokehold on me. I LOVE THOSE LITTLE DETAILS. OMG IT MAKES IT FEEL SO REAL. IT MAKES THE VISUALIZATION SO MUCH BETTER. THANK YOU SERIOUSLY. It also gives me another side of Anakin's personality. Everything is in the details.

"Go on,” he encourages in a whisper so only you can hear it, allowing you to step forward without him. DECEASED.

You glance back at Anakin, who goads you with a chastening expression. I NEED HIS ENCOURAGEMENT IN REAL LIFE. OMG IM SO LONELY.

“What’s there to not understand? How do you not understand?” I just wanted to take a little moment and say: FUCK THIS BITCH WE ARE TRYING OUR BEST. FUCK YOU.

"No sooner do you turn to search for Anakin’s help when he meets the vendor at the table, at the ready for your rescue." THIS IS THE SHIT I LIVE FOR. Fuck feminism, I want to be saved my him every single timeeeeeeeee. Give me what I want.

“Tagwa, deetso eff chuba noah moocha. Wanga mo noah, sleemo.” Decisive as always, Anakin silences his opponent with his confidence. From what you gathered, Anakin gave him an ultimatum." I was dripping in unholy ways during this. I have a General kink and 70% of that is supported by this type of behavior!!!! love it love it love it !!!!!

"The way he took control of the situation and forced someone to yield so determinately, had you rubbing your legs together." Same girlie, same. What other choice do we have?

Anakin turns his attention to you, and you jump in place when he addresses you, having been too entranced to realize your own presence. “Go ahead and pay him, baby.” He eyes you through his brows, softening his voice, “Did you get all that?” Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby- That word made the whole difference. That word ruptured my brain.

“I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t. Pretty little thing like you?” he teased, moistening his lips and advancing on you playfully. You absorbed his subtle bump, curbing your instinct to scold him since you like when he talks down to you. “I would’ve tried to take advantage of you too.” "Please, do. I'm begging. Please?" I cry with a string of voice.

"you praise yourself to change the subject from the idea of Anakin having his way with you, from the fantasy that he’d overcharge you for a product and when you can’t pay your way out you sell your body to him instead." BSWHGWDHCBHWBHW. I'm an over thinker, I'm an Anakin lover, I'm a slut, and a cancer woman. In that order.

I'm not even joking, this is my official petition to have this role play turned into a OS for kinktober. "Please, do. I'm begging. Please?" I cry with a string of voice.

"guiding you to the side so he can have his turn under the faucet." DETAILS. LOVE IT.

“You could do better though.” Arrogant son of a bitch. degrade me some more? thanks.

"As he tips his head back into the water, and comes to, shaking his curls out." DETAILS.

“Oh, yeah?” YOU CAN SMELL THE SMUT FROM A MILE AWAY.

"You’re about ready to get on your knees and start blowing him like a real sucker would." YOU READ MY MIND. Indy, my love, you know I'm a sucker for a good blowjob and the fact that you consistently insert that fascination for dick in each piece you write make me the happiest ever. I'm so thankful for your mind.

“At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa.” he says, and you practically melt. “Now, say it back to me.” Okay, let me practice: dadd-

There was one distinct word you're sure you’ve heard before. UGH SO HORNY

No sooner had you finished your sentence than his palm cupped your chin, tucking it into the web of his thumb. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks, pursing your lips for you. “Say it again,” My panties. Wet. In a millisecond.

You dissolve into your laughter, and a loving grin breaks out onto Anakin’s face, contrasting his demanding nature from before. He draws you in by his clutch of your cheeks, kissing on your puckered lips over and over again until his hold loosens enough for you to escape it. Um, every time I read this part my eyes water and, I guess it's normal, but God, it's so beautiful and comforting, and sweet, and genuine- and and and... I want that. Gorgeous, really. DETAILSSSS.

“No, don’t distract me!” you plead, “I can do it! Ee… Eep-tuuk—“ Commercial pause from my panting like a bitch in heat to say that I think the MC was so cute in this!!!

It’s a wonder you didn’t notice how heavy his cock lay against your leg until he humps you with it clumsily, searching for some comforting friction after witnessing your attempt at immersing yourself in his culture. I LOVE THIS. I LOVE THIS. Let me break it down:

I love the mention of Anakin's heavy cock. That is always greatly received.

I love the mention of humping. I LOVE a needy Anakin, I love when he humps. My whiny little bitch, I love his needy ass. "Humping you like a dog" (Humping you, drabble). MA'AM YOU KNOW IM A SUCKER FOR THIS MAN HUMPING SO YEAH. I APPRECIATE IT THE MENTION HERE AS WELL.

I love that he is so charmed by the MC trying to understand his mother language and culture. I love that it is important for him. Again, details!!! I feel like I know this Anakin better.

Habitually, you withdraw to make room for yourself, enclosing your lips around his tongue to suck on it and bob your head as if you’re giving him oral. UGH ONE MORE ELEMENT I LOVE FROM YOUR WRITING. I've never seen anyone describe a making out session like this.

Usually, such a thing coaxes a whimper out of him, a desperate beg to put that gifted mouth to use on his cock. Whenever you are ready sir. My mouth is at your service. //// I love that he can't even say anything, like a whimper is the signal to go. Love it love it love it.

“Ani…“ He hums in response to the call of his name. He responds to Ani, my heartttttt

“In Huttese?” he speaks against your skin and it tickles you, pinching your head into your shoulder, his damp curls brushing your jawline. “‘This little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” Knees weak. Eyes, rolling to the back of my head. Goosebumps, all over my body. Also the: "In huttese?" Was so condescending, babying, UGH OF COURSE IN HUTTESE. luv it.

“Tell that to your puppy eyes. Begging me to save you as soon as shit got tough. My poor baby, so pitiful,” IM CRYING OUT OF HORNINESS. INDY BABE PUPPY EYES OMG THANK YOU.

You can be independent. I can't.

“Gimme those tits, baby, wanna swallow them.” he demands from you in Huttese.

Probably my favorite part of the whole one shot. I melted. I had to pause, go back and re read like three times. No shit. NO SHIT. I L.O.V.E.D I.T.

A tit obsession is always a number one in my books.

“Maker, Anakin, you’re so gross.” And we love it.

Lapping at your nipple as if seeking it out to latch, to suckle. Your hands slide into his hair, sighing out as he imbibes as much of the fat he can. UGH YES, THIS IS MY SHIT. YES.

“Such a pretty thing. My hole, you know that? My hole.” The key words are lost on you. “Gonna fuck this little hole til it’s red and swollen. Til you cry.”  I was crying. Now I'm sobbing. Who gave you the right to get into the depths of my mind and write the stuff I want to read? Huh?

Also the second "My hole" had me kicking my feet. That's him asserting his dominance on me. He is not willing to let me go on with my life without confirming that I know that it is HIS hole. And I know it daddy, I know it. Don't worry.

“How fucking tight can you get? Almost wanna turn you off so I can make it tighter. You’d let me do it too.” I would. Indy, now you are not only writing the stuff I want to read, BUT ALSO writing the stuff I didn't even know I wanted.

“If you keep up with your lessons, you’ll know one day,” I definitely need a part 3 when she is fluent enough to talk back omg!!! Or one where they are In the middle of a private tutoring and things derail omg omg.

”You’re gonna say it for me one more time,” “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa. Do you understand?” AHHHHHHHHHH

“Don’t tell me you’re this fucking dumb and all I’m using is my fucking hand.”  OFC ONLY ANAKIN SKYWALKER COULD GET ME COCKDRUNK WITH HIS HAND. ONLY HIM COULD GET ME COCKDRUNK WITHOUT COCK. love the concept btw

“Baby.” he lowers his voice, fit to scold you. “Do you want to cum or not?” oooOOoOoOoooOOOoooOofFFFFffffFffffffff

Keen on tripping you up, he increased his pace. Anakin core.

You witness how swollen his arm has become from this workout. Veins popping out. It fucked you up. I felt this in the very core of my clit. Like a fucking gunshot.

“Chee’toosa. Right, baby? Almost done.” AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Baby.

You’re fucking his hand, but he’s feeding off of you, playing with your parts for his own fascination. I can't stand up.

“You wanted this, c’mon,” Your pussy feels raw. I love this motherfucking word: Raw. OOF-

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue afterwards.” INDY GIVING ME EXACTLY WHAT I NEED.

Not everyone can squirt, but you can. This made me feel so powerful and FOR WHAT

“You wanna lap up your piss from my legs? Suck it off my dick? Here it comes, get ready.” So gross. So disgusting. So utterly unhygienic. So completely wonderful and hot. Indy, you've done it again. Planting the seed of yet another kink in my mind.

He bites his lip, holding back his smile as you try to hide your tears from him. “Too much, baby?” Condescending greek god, fuck you.

“You are such an asshole.” you speak Huttese, with perfect pronunciation. THE PERFECT ENDING. GOD. This should be studied at colleges and shit. Loved that she spoke huttese with perfect pronunciation. It opens up the possibilities to interpretation to so many analysis. Or maybe that's just me and my overthinking ass.

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

And with that I finalize my obsessive rant on this masterpiece. I apologize if I had serious grammar imperfections. I can't think when I'm horny, let alone translate flawlessly.

Thank you again, Indy! It was one of the best things I've ever read. I throughly enjoyed doing this, hope it was not a bit much. Let me know if I can reach out to you on Discord, I know it's been a while :)

❝𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐞❞

anakin skywalker x fem!reader

prompt: supplied by @xstarkillerx | masterlist

summary: after a market mishap, anakin gives you a more personal lesson in how to speak his native language.

MINORS DNI 18+

word count: 3k | character(s): anakin skywalker

notes:

semi-inspired by my past work “talk huttese to me” but it is not required reading to understand this piece.

warnings: size difference, anakin lowkey babying you and then degrading the fuck out of you, you know a little huttese, anakin gets a little degraded too, vag fingering, some choking (f receiving), anakin being a mean sadist, overstimulation, squirting, anakin’s exhibits his piss kink interest, dacryphilia, edging, dumbification, no use of y/n i think

“Keep up.” Anakin chastises you, and you obey, increasing your pace to meet his monstrous strides, struggling to maintain his speed. “I want to make this quick.” 

“I don’t know if I know enough—“ you protest, glancing at your feet to avoid tripping over the rippled sand. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been doing well.” he insists, his hand instinctively guiding you by the small of your back. “I’ll be right behind you.” The day breeze is warm, but it’s Anakin’s touch that burns you. Timidly responding with a complacent confirmation despite your doubts. 

Open-aired bodegas line the street, merchants with goods to sell wait for willing customers. Anakin had warned you about the demographic of Tatooine, but you’d expected far meaner appearances. Bashful still, your gaze turns to Anakin uneasily, who greets you with his kind eyes, and uncharacteristic patience. 

“Yes?” he says softly, and you feel like retreating into his arms. 

“What are we looking for again?” your tone, feathery light, causes your lover to lend his ear to you so as to hear you over the rustle of passersby. You repeat yourself, shyer than before in response to his abrupt proximity. 

He maintains that closeness, retracting only to look into your eyes. “An aeromagnifier.” A pause, so he adds, “Do you remember how to say it?” 

In this moment, you feel ashamed to admit how much you like when he babies you like this. “Yes, yes, I remember.” 

“Alright, this way.” His metal hand hooks around your waist, and you approach a man at his seat. Out of the options, he seemed the sleaziest by far, which did not assuage your nerves. “Go on,” he encourages in a whisper so only you can hear it, allowing you to step forward without him. 

The vendor notices you, and immediately turns on the artificial charm. A wide, toothy and yellowed grin, peering at you with his enlarged red eyes through bifocals attached to his head in meticulous machinery. “Hello, welcome, welcome,” he says in a rasp, and you can smell the cigarette he smoked prior to this engagement. 

“Hi,” The only formal greeting you know in Huttese, and you pray it suffices for proper engagement. 

“Ah, the little lady speaks my language. Should’ve known. Little lady, what can I do for you? What are you looking for?” 

You glance back at Anakin, who goads you with a chastening expression. As if to say that you can’t back out now. You pivot your attention back to the merchant clasping his gold-ringed fingers in anticipation. 

“Perhaps, the lady does not know what she searches for…?” he trails off, awaiting you to finish the sentence for him.

“No, no. I know what to do.” you reply, but is it to convince you or him? Your knowledge in Huttese is limited to predictable small talk and basic commands. You’re trying to keep it as simple as possible, and luckily he talks slow enough for you to understand him, repeating lots of words that help your context clues. “I need an aeromagnifier. The one there-'' You point to its location. “There.” 

“Yes, yes, this one, this one. I see.” The vendor recedes to the back of his shop, shaded by his canopy hanging overhead, and retrieves it, bringing it to the light to present it to you. He gestures to it with a tantalizing flutter of his fingers down its figure. “Good taste, good taste. This one, little lady, is two-fifty. Two-fifty nothing less.” 

“Two-fifty?” 

“Two-fifty, two-fifty. Nothing more, nothing less. Two-fifty.” 

“That… um, I don’t understand.”

The merchant lets his act slip marginally, enough for you to note it, but only to decide he must’ve enacted his contempt because of your unreasonable phrasing. You’re floundering, you must be. “What’s there to not understand? How do you not understand?” 

“No two-fifty. Too much?” Suddenly, your knowledge of Huttese is dissipating out of fear. Unable to properly convey your disagreement when the price isn’t what you thought it’d be. 

“‘Too much’—? How ‘too much’—?” 

The conversation makes your hands sweat, wondering if you did something wrong. No sooner do you turn to search for Anakin’s help when he meets the vendor at the table, at the ready for your rescue. When he interjects, you barely keep up to how quickly they talk. 

“Choy tay saka ‘ton-sin’? Mi wat do suzun nawee eet raun, kung. Ton-sin’d do karkin’ moocha. Soong wanga—“ You get every other word, something about being a thief, “to steal” specifically. You furrow your brows, attempting your best to follow the discussion. 

“Wanga-threnten!” The merchant declares, holding his finger up to Anakin’s face, who promptly pushes it out of his way. 

“Tagwa, deetso eff chuba noah moocha. Wanga mo noah, sleemo.” Decisive as always, Anakin silences his opponent with his confidence. From what you gathered, Anakin gave him an ultimatum. The price as one, instead of two-fifty. 

The vendor, reluctantly, concedes with a flapping of his hand to signal to Anakin to calm down. Dramatizing the situation because Anakin had been atypically placid the entire exchange. The way he took control of the situation and forced someone to yield so determinately, had you rubbing your legs together. You’re addicted to this personification he takes on when he speaks his native language. 

Anakin turns his attention to you, and you jump in place when he addresses you, having been too entranced to realize your own presence. “Go ahead and pay him, baby.” He eyes you through his brows, softening his voice, “Did you get all that?” 

“Just one, right?” you confirm, collecting five wupiupi pieces to give to the grumbling merchant. 

As Anakin guides you away with the aeromagnifier in possession, you hear a phrase you could never mistake. “E chu ta!” the vendor calls after the two of you. ‘Fuck you!’ he’d said. 

Anakin hollers over his shoulder, “Chuba ta, maya punchee.” You too, weak-minded friend.

You chuckle to yourself. 

“Should’ve known they’d try to take advantage of me. I mean, the guy talked to me like I was stupid- and I was actually grateful for it.” you relay to Anakin, wryly grinning about the ordeal as you wash your hair. Suds pouring down the column of your neck to trail around your naked body. Wiping soap from your eyes, you open them to gauge your lover’s reaction. There’s a smile on his face you cannot place, whether it’s endearment, or meant to be demeaning, you didn’t know. 

“I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t. Pretty little thing like you?” he teased, moistening his lips and advancing on you playfully. You absorbed his subtle bump, curbing your instinct to scold him since you like when he talks down to you. “I would’ve tried to take advantage of you too.” 

A comfortable silence follows while you stare up at him with stars in your dilated pupils, hot water rinsing your hair. He holds your gaze faithfully, and you break it before you lose yourself in him. “I thought I did pretty good.” you praise yourself to change the subject from the idea of Anakin having his way with you, from the fantasy that he’d overcharge you for a product and when you can’t pay your way out you sell your body to him instead. Showering together makes you go crazy sometimes. “Speaking it, I mean.”

“You did.” he concurred verbally, but his tone conveyed another layer. His large hands cup your hips, guiding you to the side so he can have his turn under the faucet. You raise a brow at him. “You could do better though.” His challenge jellies your legs. You watch, like a lovesick fool, as he tips his head back into the water, and comes to, shaking his curls out. Droplets draw down his herculean form. Ever since he saved you from the market— as silly as it was— you could not stop thinking about fucking him. 

“Oh, yeah?” You fall into his trap. 

“Your pronunciation is too polished. If you don’t sound like a local, people won’t treat you like one. They’ll treat you like a sucker.” 

Much like that vendor today. As soon as Anakin stepped in, he backed off. Remembering how assertive Anakin was is all too much. You’re about ready to get on your knees and start blowing him like a real sucker would. 

Anakin sensed your frenzied need for him as soon as the two of you had left the market. Your desire is no secret. Certainly not one you can keep from him. 

“Alright, so what do I change?” 

“I’ll show you. Hear what I say,” he tells you and you swallow hard, mouth drying up. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa.” he says, and you practically melt. “Now, say it back to me.” 

Obediently, you parrot it back to him. There was one distinct word you're sure you’ve heard before.

No sooner had you finished your sentence than his palm cupped your chin, tucking it into the web of his thumb. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks, pursing your lips for you. “Say it again,” He emphasizes his command by pinching further, a sting in your buccal. “At-“ You listen intently, the phonetic arrangement teaching you to put your tongue behind your teeth when pronouncing the “T” at the end. 

“At-“

“Eep-tuk-“

“Ee—“ you stifle a giggle at your positioning, worried you’ll earn yourself a reprimand from your stoic teacher. “E- eept—“ You dissolve into your laughter, and a loving grin breaks out onto Anakin’s face, contrasting his demanding nature from before. He draws you in by his clutch of your cheeks, kissing on your puckered lips over and over again until his hold loosens enough for you to escape it. “No, don’t distract me!” you plead, “I can do it! Ee… Eep-tuuk—“ Your weak dissent of your hands against his chest does nothing to dissuade him. He chases you, and envelopes you in his arms, sliding your wet naked bodies together as he captures your mouth. He wastes no time in prying your lips open, inviting his tongue in to explore all it can. 

It’s a wonder you didn’t notice how heavy his cock lay against your leg until he humps you with it clumsily, searching for some comforting friction after witnessing your attempt at immersing yourself in his culture. 

Habitually, you withdraw to make room for yourself, enclosing your lips around his tongue to suck on it and bob your head as if you’re giving him oral. Usually, such a thing coaxes a whimper out of him, a desperate beg to put that gifted mouth to use on his cock. Instead, it only heightens his desire for you, to have you as quickly as possible. He slams you against the cold tiling, stealing the breath from your lungs, freeing his mouth to plant sloppy, open kisses onto your cheek and down your neck. Anywhere within his reach is mouthed passionately, tongued as if it’s not a mundane part of you but your very core itself. Your eyes roll into the back of your head once he meets with your pulse point, propped up by his body against yours. “Ani…“ He hums in response to the call of his name, admitting his approval for it with a bite into your flesh. “What did you say earlier?” you exhale, palms outlined the dips in his muscle. 

“In Huttese?” he speaks against your skin and it tickles you, pinching your head into your shoulder, his damp curls brushing your jawline. “‘This little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” 

“Fuck you, would you really have me say that?” 

“Tell that to your puppy eyes. Begging me to save you as soon as shit got tough. My poor baby, so pitiful,” 

As if to discipline him, you shove him, but he remains undeterred. There’s no need to make fun of you for needing help, besides he’d volunteered before you even asked. There’s plenty you can do on your own, without him. You can be independent. 

You don’t get a chance to defend yourself as he maneuvers you to arch your back, his mouth traveling to consume your collarbones and upper chest as he bends over you, thick arms behind you to secure you. “Gimme those tits, baby, wanna swallow them.” he demands from you in Huttese, but this time you’re able to understand the gist of what he’s saying. 

“Maker, Anakin, you’re so gross.” you tell him, but as you suspect, he grins in response. His teeth scrape against you, and he does as he promised. Lapping at your nipple as if seeking it out to latch, to suckle. Your hands slide into his hair, sighing out as he imbibes as much of the fat he can. “Ani—“ you whine, wiggling your hips to chase any friction you can afford. 

Swiftly, he answers you, with his large hand cupping your mound, soothing it with slow circles. You press yourself into his grasp, rolling your hips. It earns you a sharp bite to your sensitive bud and you yelp. To exhibit patience, you let him explore your pussy as he sees fit. Fingers dipping into its wells, circling your folds and flicking up against your clit every so lightly. “Such a pretty thing. My hole, you know that? My hole.” The key words are lost on you. “Gonna fuck this little hole til it’s red and swollen. Til you cry.” 

You whimper, regardless if you can’t understand him, and he sticks a single finger in, only to pull out to stretch you with two. 

“How fucking tight can you get? Almost wanna turn you off so I can make it tighter. You’d let me do it too.” He licks water off of you, up the valley of your breasts, and takes your lips in a passionate kiss, scissoring you open so he can swallow the noises you make. Experimentally, he massages your insides, his thumb brushing your clit every so often as he pistons deeper inside. Your curiosity is killing you enough to break the kiss. 

“What the hell are you saying to me right now, Anakin?” you breathe, slumping against the wall while he fingers you. Why the hell did it work so well on you? Immediately soaking when you know he’s talking dirty in a language you can’t translate quick enough. 

“If you keep up with your lessons, you’ll know one day,” he promises. Instinctively, you shy away, pivoting your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, nearing your release. To counter that behavior, Anakin heightens and uses his free hand to clutch your neck, redirecting your attention to where it belongs. On him. “Don’t be stupid.” This insult you know. 

You frown at him, but as soon as your gaze lands on him, he speeds up, curling his fingers in a way that has you reeling. Your favorite spot, erasing all of your offense in a motion. Worsening when he sneaks in another finger.

“Oh? What are you gonna do about it?” 

You can barely keep your eyes open, staring at him through thick lashes because it’s what he wants. His grip squeezes, and it enhances your pleasure, tingles spreading throughout your entire body. 

“Can’t pretend you hate it. Can’t lie to me, can’t hide from me.” His admonishing tone only adds to how the coil in your belly winds, the heat in between your legs desperate to go somewhere, anywhere. He leans into you, burying his nose in your cheek as he talks shit in your ear. ”You’re gonna say it for me one more time,” he demands, and you stifle your wail of despair. How he teeters you, so close to where you need to be, and takes it from you at the last second. “At eeptuk schutta hagwa non che chee’toosa. Do you understand?” 

“Ani, I can’t—“ There’s not a possibility, how could you think let alone speak? 

“You can.” He leaves no room for argument, his teeth biting down onto your earlobe to tug on it. “Don’t tell me you’re this fucking dumb and all I’m using is my fucking hand.” 

“Fuck,” you curse in the language, which earns you a snicker from him, his breath against you sending shivers down your spine. “Okay— ah! Okay… Uh,” 

Your walls clench around him, signaling your impending release. Reading them like a book, he keeps you right where he wants you. A damn near painful experience, and he knows it. 

He recoils so he can see your pretty face, jutting his chin. Bragging about his competence when he’s the one unaffected. “At-“ 

Idling for too long earns you a hard press of your clit and you mewl. Hastily, you manage, “At-“

“Eeptuk-“ 

“Eeptook—“ 

“Baby.” he lowers his voice, fit to scold you. “Do you want to cum or not?”

“I do, I fucking do, please.”

“Then do as I say.” He commands it of you as if it is so simple! His thumb traces your jawline soothingly, but his grip stays firm. 

“Eeptuk,” you flinch, worried that if you’d pronounced wrong like before you’d receive some sort of punishment. “schutta-“ The word you most recognize. Slut. His favorite pet-name for you whenever he was persuaded to speak his native tongue. Keen on tripping you up, he increased his pace, and out of the corner of your eye you witness how swollen his arm has become from this workout. Veins popping out. It fucked you up. “Hagwa non che-“

“Chee’toosa. Right, baby? Almost done.”

Your eyes burn, red in the face out of frustration. “Chee’toosa.” 

“That’s right. Like I said, ‘this little whore can’t do a thing for herself.’” If you had the energy, you’d fight him on it. Unfortunately you’re spent, the only reason you’re upright is his body weight. He’s right, all you wanted from him is what he can give you. 

Unintelligible noises spill from you, rocking into his hand movements, but this time he lets you. His intense eyes hold your gaze unapologetically, waiting to feast on your orgasm. 

“Does a brat like you really deserve to cum? Should leave you like this.” Weakly, you shake your head, on the verge of crying from his cruelty if he really put you through all that just to steal it from you. You’re at your edge. There isn’t anything in the world you crave more than finishing right now. His thumb works into your clit, getting you to reach that breaking point, attaining it. You cry out, your orgasm crashing through you beginning from the tips of your toes, crawling up your spine. The fact he can bring you to this using only a hand awes you. You brace yourself on him, clawing into his bicep. 

He doesn’t stop there. An overstimulation already setting in from how heartlessly his rough fingers glide in and out of you, unbothered to let you recuperate. How he takes your pleasure for himself. You’re fucking his hand, but he’s feeding off of you, playing with your parts for his own fascination. 

Your throat is released, causing your vision to haze, and he hooks his hand under your knee, hiking your leg up. Your cum drips from his palm, but he’s still going, regardless of your protests. “You wanted this, c’mon,” Your pussy feels raw, yet he probes it, and when he pinches the sensitive flesh between his fingers, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Are you about to piss? Fuck, you really are a little slut. You’re about to squirt all over me, huh?” 

“Anakin!” 

“Do it, go on. Can’t believe how disgusting you are. Don’t worry, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue afterwards.” 

It stings how he fucks with your bladder, readying that most sacred attribute. Not everyone can squirt, but you can, and Anakin fucking loves it. Enough to pull it from you whenever he wants. You don’t need to know Huttese to get what he’s trying to do to you right now. 

“Yeah, you like that, whore? You wanna lap up your piss from my legs? Suck it off my dick? Here it comes, get ready.” 

You keen, the floodgates finally opening to spray your dirty fluids all over your lover. Hot and wet, running down your thighs. The act itself, the intensity, causes you to choke back sobs. Anakin lets your leg drop, and gingerly he tugs his digits from their wedge inside you. Flattening his hand against your sex, soothing it with a light massage. He bites his lip, holding back his smile as you try to hide your tears from him. “Too much, baby?” 

“You are such an asshole.” you speak Huttese, with perfect pronunciation. It gets him to laugh, drawing you to him so he can lick your salty tears away, and help you clean up in the shower. 

[iovnyu]

happy ending (6/?)

summary: being cinderella’s daughter has many pros and cons but on top of that you are soon becoming responsible for the citizens of auradon. the first thing you do to show the citizens of your worthiness is by creating a program to bring kids from the isle of the lost, a isolated island where villains and their kids are held, onto auradon. with this new program, you undergo harsh realities and maybe a little bit of love and drama along the way, who knows?

a/n: hello im very inconsistent on updates,, im sorry lol. ill try to be better at it in the future. also im making things go a little faster so enjoy !!!

y/n knew that there would be many opinions regarding her orders, but she never knew it would be like this. she had never felt that scared for her life that  much. when she had walked out of the meeting hall, it almost looked like something out of a movie -- people were yelling and threatening her life. in other words, the citizens of auradon were raining hell on her right now.

y/n was currently positioned in an awkward pose as she watched the news. flipping through the channels, she noticed that most of the news anchors all had said the same thing about the statement. not a single one mentioned a positive effect that came out of the meeting.  

“princess y/n.” a guard came into her room and bowed. she now had to have double the amount of protection considering the anger of the citizens.

“prince seokmin, prince jun and prince mingyu are here to see you. do you want their presence?” the guard asked.

“uhm... sure! why not?” she leaned closer to see his nametag, “mr. mark lee.”

mark bowed and opened the door for y/n to see jun, mingyu and seokmin with her favorite snacks piled in their hands. “princess y/n you can not be sulking right now because guess what? your favorite princes are here to get your mind off of the previous hours and replace that time with happiness!!” seokmin announced, dumping a series of spicy chip bags onto your bed.

“yes! we cannot have our princess be sad, otherwise we will be sad and then all of eternity will be sad. do you want that prince jun?” mingyu pointed to jun.

“no! i certainly do not! princess y/n?” jun said looking at y/n.

“fine! but it is only because i am dying of boredom right now.” y/n smiled at her friends, mentally thanking ariel, mulan and aurora for having the best children and being best friends with her mother.

they all cheered and started opening each bag of chips so they don’t have to stick to one. they all had their designated chips, but the production of spicer chips gets better everyday thus having way too many bags for the night.

“should we watch a movie or a show? oh my god, i heard that the british baking show released a new season!!” mingyu squealed.

“what? really?” jun asked. mingyu nodded his head and turned on the tv that was bigger than his bed. he quickly found fairyflick and searched up the show.

“guys, we have already discussed that my bed is big, why are you guys so close to me?” y/n rolled her eyes, making sure that the two boys who were almost cuddling her sees.

seokmin looks at her and gasps, “do you not like it when we cuddle you? you have never complained before!”

“hmm maybe it is because all of your weight is on me causing me two lungs to merge into one!!” y/n exclaimed. even if she did try to move away, she would be faced with laying on the carpet floor.

“i dont know about jun or mingyu, but i do not lean on you with all my weight. i gently snuggle into the warmth.” seokmin argued with y/n.

“shut up! watch the show you flounders.” mingyu said as he jumped onto the bed following with a series of complaints from seokmin. everyone adjusted their posture to be spaced evenly apart with not a single limb touching.

“god this show is one of the most boring shows to ever exist!” seokmin whined, kicking underneath the blanket.

the rest of them ignored his whines as he eventually quieted down and got interested in what they were baking. y/n was thankful to lay next to jun since he   wasn’t boney to lean on.

it was not long after the show started when the “cuddling” started to happen. everyone slowly found themselves closer to each other, wanting more body warmth. jun had his arm around y/n as she laid against his chest, eating whatever that was in front of her. seokmin was leaning on mingyu since his biceps felt like fluffy clouds.

jun looked down at y/n as she started to speak. “i hope one day my future prince will make that cheese puff pastry thing.”

“do you even like cheese pastry?” jun questioned, fingers combing through her hair.

y/n shrugged, “if it looks good then it tastes good.” a laugh emitted from jun,  making y/n smile.

y/n looked over to her left to see seokmin passed out hugging mingyu and mingyu watching the show intently. she quietly chuckled knowing that sooner or later seokmin will kick mingyu off of the bed.

“hey, y/n?” jun whispered, “do you already know who you are going to take off the isle?”

“isn’t it obvious?” y/n replied.

“maybe. but are you just going to bring them only? or have other isle kids?”

“just them. the limit is 10 kids, i want to make sure they are the first ones here.” y/n had stopped eating and grabbed a can of coke to down the spiciness of the chips.

“when are they coming?” jun played with his fingers. he knew that when soonyoung comes over, he won’t be the only one to try to capture y/n’s heart. he needs to start upping his game, he just can’t lose y/n.

“uhh... i think it is the end of this week. we want them to come over as soon as possible. we already have the welcoming ceremony ready and everything.”

jun nodded and sensed someone looking at him. turning to his left he found mingyu staring at him intently, making jun confused. he shrugged it off and turned towards the tv. one by one, each of them fell asleep with the sound of  bakers talking about the making of the beast’s famous grey stuff.

*

y/n woke up to being violently shaken by mingyu and seokmin. “y/n!!! wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!!”

groaning, y/n got up and groggily looked at the loud boys. “dude. no one says that.” she rubbed her eyes and looked for her phone.

“if you are wondering what time it is, it is 8 o’clock.” jun said, looking back at her through her mirror. he smiled at how she can look messy but still so adorable in the morning. “get ready before you’re late to your favorite class.”

“i would be glad to not go to mr. hyunh’s class.” y/n rolled her eyes. she knew that either way she needed to get up before fairy god mother barges in and yell at her. she shooed the boys out of her room so they can get ready and have some privacy to herself.

after y/n had gotten ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. “okay, y/n you got this. we got this. just ignore the stares. let’s just not make eye contact with anyone.”

giving herself a final look in the mirror, she grabbed her bag and went out the door.

*

“y/n! please go see fairy god mother in her office. she said it is important.” mr. lin, her history teacher, spoke from the sea shell phone.

nodding, y/n quickly put all of her supplies in her bag and got up from the seat. she stole a quick glance at seokmin and shrugged. usually fairy god mother only talked to her after school, never during school. she always raved about how important school is and there is no reason to lose “education time”.

she walked pretty fast to fairy god mother’s office and knocked on her door. “please come in!”

opening her door, y/n walked in and waved. “hi fairy god mother, if you don’t mind me asking -- why did you call me up?”

“oh! i just got some good news for you, i just couldn’t wait until after school.” fairy god mother smiled, “the counsel just called me and told me that they can move the day that the isle kids come. they said it is ideal if they can come the day after tomorrow. if not, then it is fine!”

y/n couldn’t handle her excitement, “wait, really? is the welcoming ceremony ready? if so then the day after tomorrow is fine!”

“yep! everything is ready, they just need your word and then we can move it.”

“then sure! i can’t wait! thank you for telling me this fairy god mother.” y/n hugged her.

“no problem kid. now, go. get to class.” fairy god mother shooed her away. y/n couldn’t wait to tell jun, mingyu and seokmin. she practically bounced down the halls wanting to get to seokmin as fast as she can.

*

“no, you’re kidding right? tell me you’re kidding!” mingyu said, looking back and forth between y/n and seokmin.

seokmin shook his head, “no we aren’t. they are literally coming in like two days.”

mingyu squealed and jumped around y/n’s room, bumping into jun in the process. jun pushed mingyu away from him and looked towards y/n. “why did they move the date closer suddenly?”

“fairy god mother said it’s ideal to have it closer or something like that.” y/n shrugged. jun nodded grabbing his homework, “okay well let’s get to work now. homework isn’t going to do itself.”

mingyu gave jun a skeptical look before taking his homework out of his backpack and setting it on the coffee table, far away from y/n. mingyu knew that jun and soonyoung will fight for y/n no matter what. although jun tried to ignore his thoughts, he decided that whatever happens, y/n has to be happy -- even if that means his heart will be broken.

previous // next

masterlist

[shannaraisles]

Roll For Initiative

A commission piece for @lechatrouge673, who told me to write something that made me happy. So I ran with the DnD idea!

***

"All right, everyone ready? Settled in?"

Erin looked around the table, snorting with laughter at the sight of her brother, Patrick, attempting to steal yet more of Ana's pierogi off her plate, only to earn himself a slap on the hand and a sharp look. Across the table, Brian was finishing off his sandwich hurriedly, and Toby was - of course - going through his dice ritual to decide which ones made the cut for tonight. They were down a couple of players today, and a couple were going to be late, but that wasn't a game killer. What she had in mind for this weekend was adaptable.

"Recap away, noodle," Patrick managed through his last mouthful, wiping his hands as he did so.

"All right, then."

She drew in a slow breath, settling her thoughts, and began.

"Feeble Noobs ... "

Why did I ever let them call themselves that?

"Following a harrowing adventure in search of Andraste's Ashes, you succeeded in passing the Gauntlet of Faith, proving yourselves worthy to take a pinch of the Ashes back to Redcliffe to cure Arl Eamon and restore him to health. In gratitude for what you did, and for saving his son, as well as concern for the future of the country, he agreed to lend his voice in opposition to Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir in the upcoming Landsmeet. However, his plan involves supplanting Queen Anora, and putting Alistair on the throne instead, since your reluctant paladin is the illegitimate son of the former king, Maric."

"Backstory comes to bite me in the arse," Brian muttered with a grin.

"That's what backstory is for," Erin assured him cheerfully. "You returned to Denerim with the arl, setting up base at his estate, and began to explore the city, hoping to make a connection with some of the nobles and win them to your side. You were attacked by the Antivan Crows, lead by a former colleague of your friend Zevran, who wanted to fulfill his contract on the Grey Wardens and take him back with them. Zevran chose to place himself between Darrian and Alistair, and his former colleagues, and after a tough fight, you emerged victorious. You then decided to treat yourselves to a night at The Pearl, Denerim's foremost brothel, which I am never going to forget -"

The laughter at the table was a very clear reminder that allowing her players to have too much fun at her expense was going to turn into a story for all the years to come. Jenny, as Zevran, had insisted on sampling the delights of all the men and women at The Pearl once she'd discovered it was a fade to black situation, just to make Erin describe and play an increasingly odd selection of throwaway NPCs made up on the spot.

"Upon returning to Arl Eamon's estate, you found Erlina, Queen Anora's elven companion, beside herself with worry. Arl Howe, Loghain's right-hand man, had imprisoned the queen in his city estate. Against Eamon's wishes, you decided to rescue her. and with a series of truly stunning stealth rolls, and one very lucky save, you made your way into the Howe estate, where you freed Soris, Darrian's cousin, and discovered a few means by which you can sway some of the nobles to your cause. You were confronted by Howe himself, and managed to take down both him and his elite guard, freeing Queen Anora in the process. However, when you attempted to leave, you were stopped by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain's loyal commander, and a large number of city guards, who demanded that the Grey Wardens surrender and be put under arrest. Rather than risk the queen's presence in your midst being discovered, Darrian and Alistair voluntarily surrendered, allowing the rest of your party to escape back to Eamon's estate with the queen. And that is where we will pick up ..."

"Hey, you missed out me saving Sten's life with my amazing druid healing skills," Patrick objected mischievously.

"You're a dog, shut up," was Erin's response, sticking her tongue out at her brother for a moment before turning to Brian and Toby.

"Alistair and Darrian," she said, "you come to on filthy blankets in a dark, dingy prison. You’re in a cage - one of many that you can see lining the walls - and you can see other prisoners, some of whom have clearly been tortured, some lying very still. Your equipment, your armor, even your clothes have been taken off you as you lay unconscious. There’s a single guard patrolling the floor outside the cages. What do you do?"

"We're naked?" Brian asked in surprise.

"They've left your underpants on you, but everything else is gone," Erin clarified.

"Is there anything in our cell, or in the cells that I can reach through the bars, that I could use to pick the lock?" Toby inquired. He was always first to jump into the action if he possibly could.

"Roll an investigation check."

"While Darrian's grubbing around on the floor, Alistair's going to wrap the blanket around himself like a girl getting out of the shower," Brian interjected over the sound of rolling dice.

"Ha!" Ana grinned at him across the table. "I knew Alistair had a thing for Darrian!"

"No, he's just worried about offending his friend with the indecency of his ... manly nipples," Brian countered, blatantly not believing a word he was saying.

"5, so that's ... 10," Toby piped up.

Erin glanced at her sheet.

"You root around for a while, reaching through the bars to the cells on either side, but you don't come up with anything that could be used as a lock pick," she said. "As you finish your investigation, the guard rounds the corner to walk by your cell."

"I whip my hand back into the cell and turn to Alistair." Toby assumed his chosen accent for Darrian with an ease that made Brian mock glare at him. "What in the Void are you doin'?"

"I look embarrassed and shuffle a bit, tucking my blanket tighter around my manliness," Brian said, taking a moment to find Alistair's voice again before adding, "It's cold in here."

"What, worried y'goin' to poke my eye out with your nips?"

"Well, you do stand very close sometimes." Brian bit down on a laugh that would have destroyed his accent, and went on. "So what do we do?"

"How well armed and armored is the guard?" Toby asked Erin.

"Standard for a prison guard," she mused. "Splint mail, helmet, longsword and dagger."

"Showing any interest in us?"

"Apart from a glance in to make sure you're still there, he doesn't seem interested," she said. "Guard duty's guard duty, and you're all but naked and locked in a cage."

"Okay." Toby slipped back into Darrian as he turned to Brian. "You play sick, and when 'e comes in, I'll jump 'im."

"What with? A handful of ... what is that, poop? Ergh."

"Just do it."

Brian rolled his eyes, grinning, and turned to Erin.

"Alistair is very reluctantly going to fall down in a swoon and start groaning like there's a bear sitting on top of him," he declared cheerfully, already reaching for his dice.

"Darrian will yell for the guard to come and take a look," Toby added.

"All right." Erin considered this briefly. "Alistair, roll me a performance check."

"Performance? Ugh ..."

The dice rattled on the table. Brian took one look at the roll, and thumped his forehead onto the dice tray, holding up a single digit.

"Natural one!"

As the rest of the group burst out laughing, Erin giggled her way through the guard's reaction.

"So, while Alistair's lying on the ground making ridiculous noises, the guard comes to the cell door and looks in, and he just, he's not impressed," she said, lowering her timbre for the guard. "Very nice. D'you do duck impressions too?"

Brian snorted. "Alistair stops groaning and just looks up at the guard, sort of pouting," he said. "You don't think I have a career on the stage then?"

"Mate, you're gonna be dead in the morning, so do what you like," was the guard's response.

"How close is he to the bars?" Toby asked.

"Couple of feet," Erin answered.

"Great. I launch myself at the cell door and try to grab him through the bars."

"This is why we need Darrian," Ana commented to Patrick. "He just does stuff."

"Oh, woof." Patrick nodded sagely in agreement, laughing as she backhanded his shoulder lightly. "What? I'm a dog!"

"You're an idiot," Ana informed him with a smile.

"Roll, um ..." Erin drummed her fingers for a moment. "You know what, just roll a straight dexterity check for me."

"Twenty." Toby shook his head as she opened her mouth. "Not natural."

"Okay, well, while the guard is laughing at Alistair, Darrian rushes the bars and manages to grab him by the collar of his mail," Erin said, ignoring the quiet conversation to her right. "What do you want to do with him?"

"I want to ... yank him hard and try and knock him out against the bars," Toby decided.

"Bear in mind, you're rolling against his AC, and your arm is thrust through a space about six inches wide," she reminded him. "Give me a strength check at disadvantage."

"Oh god, strength is really not my strong suit," Toby muttered, rolling his d20 twice. "Yeah, I'm a weakling. Doesn't happen."

"What did you get?" Patrick asked curiously.

"Rolled a five and a two, so that's three," Toby said with a grin.

"All right, so as you go to yank him toward the bars, the guard pulls backwards, and your grip just isn't enough to hold onto him as he backs up," Erin narrated. "Don't you try that again, y'hear? Bloody Wardens. He scowls at you, but he doesn't come close again, just turns and goes back on his round of the prison floor."

"Can't say you didn't try," Brian said encouragingly. "So what do we do now?"

"I'm out of ideas. S'pose we're waitin' to be rescued now." Toby smirked across the table at the other two. "Over to you, fearless warriors."

"Oh, yeah, this is going to go really well," Ana drawled, glancing at Patrick.

Anyone playing off him tended to have a bit of a rough go of it because of his obtuse character creation. He'd agreed to play the game when his little sister had begged, but his condition had been that he was allowed to create his own unique character. What he had come up with was a druid stuck permanently in dog form, which made for some interesting scenarios.

"All right, so - for the sake of brevity - let's say that you got Anora safely back to Arl Eamon's estate, and it was decided that Sten and ... the dog ... have the best chance of getting the Wardens out safely," Erin said. She knew this group too well to let them have a debate, even when there were only two of them involved in it.

"Sten, Barkspawn ... you approach Fort Drakon. It's a walled, heavily fortified keep, pretty much in the center of the city, named after the Orlesian emperor who founded the Andrastian Chantry. It's the oldest building in Denerim, built out of heavy gray granite, and it kind of squats on the landscape in a series of concentric circles built around a very tall tower in the center. There are two guards on the main gate, but they don't challenge you as you pass through. What do you do?"

Ana straightened her shoulders, channeling her inner Qunari as she dropped her timbre into her character's voice.

"They call this a fort? I thought it would be bigger."

"Woof."

A shared snort of laughter went up from the other side of the table as Ana glared at Patrick. Evidently he wasn't going to make this easy on her, role-play wise. He gave her an innocent smile in answer.

"Stands to reason that the cells would be in the tower," Anna mused, apparently deciding to ignore Patrick's insight for the time being. "So I guess we go to the tower?"

Erin nodded.

"Okay then," she said, checking her notes swiftly. "The tower is easily the tallest building in the city. It's also very wide. I mean, you could fit a couple of dragons in this thing with room to spare. There are more guards in evidence in the courtyard around it, but nobody challenges you as you make your way to the door of the tower itself. However, as you approach this enormous, thick-oak door, the two guards in front of it step forward and bar your way. They are better armored and armed than the guards on the main gate of the outer wall, but they seem kind of weary, kind of bored. Door duty isn't exactly rife with excitement. One of them holds up his hand, and says to you, Sten, What is your business in Fort Drakon?"

"Barkspawn stands up a little straighter, and just looks the guy right in the eye," Patrick piped up. "Staring him down like only a mabari can."

"Sten's doing pretty much the same," Ana agreed. "He looms over the guard. I'm a giant with a war dog. Either I am making a delivery, or I am beseiging your fort. Hope for the former."

Erin chuckled. She loved the way Sten had developed over the last months.

"Okay, make a persuasion check for me."

"Why not deception?" Brian asked out of curiosity.

"Didn't actually tell a lie," she explained, as the dice rolled.

"Oh geez, my persuasion is crap," Ana was muttering, looking up to add, "Nine."

"The guard looks you up and down, and then over to the dog staring at him, and exchanges a look with his fellow guard. They don't seem to be buying this. I wasn't told we were getting a mabari."

"Must I point out the obvious?" Ana tried again, putting a growl into her voice that made Patrick blink in surprise. "I am a large, impatient man with a war dog. Either let us in, or get someone who will."

"Barkspawn growls in agreement with him," Patrick offered hopefully. "Teeth bared, muscles tensed. Looking like he really wants to rip someone's throat out."

"Uh, all right." Laughing, Erin shook her head. "Roll for intimidation, with advantage, since Barkspawn's helping you."

Again, the dice rolled, and Patrick let out a whoop of triumph as Ana grinned.

"I rolled a four, and a natural twenty, so twenty-six," she declared cheerfully, setting Brian and Toby to praising the roll enthusiastically.

"Well, you are a large, impatient man, fully armed, with a war dog, and these guys just don't get paid enough to deal with things like this," Erin told them. "I can't believe that worked ... They look to each other, and back to you, and step away hurriedly. Uh, all right. You, uh ... go inside, and wait in the room on the right there. We'll, um ... The captain'll come and see you. One of them pushes the door open and hurries inside, and the other gestures for you to follow him, while keeping as far away from the two of you as he possibly can while at the same time trying not to look scared. The one who went ahead of you gestures toward an antechamber to the right side, and hurries off to find the captain, leaving you both alone. What do you do?"

There was a moment of pause.

"Sten really doesn't like being kept waiting," Ana mused, eyeing Patrick thoughtfully. "This is pointless. We should go in fighting."

"Barkspawn barks back in agreement," Patrick answered. "I mean, we're inside now. It can't be that difficult to find the cells, right?"

"Oh my god, are you really going to do that?" Toby asked, incredulous disbelief written all over his smiling face. "You're just going to fight your way through a whole fort?"

"Sure, why not?" Ana shrugged, and looked over at Erin. "I draw my sword, and wait by the door for the captain to come in. When he does, I'm gonna swing at him."

"While Sten goes for his body, I'll pounce his legs and try to knock him prone," Patrick said, picking up his dice.

"All right then."

Erin couldn't quite believe that the admittedly bad plan to talk their way in had suddenly become the worse plan of fighting their way in, but that was D&D. Groping for her character stats sheets, she fumbled for the captain.

"You're left waiting for no more than a few minutes, enough time to get into position by the door, and the captain's footsteps make it very obvious when he's coming. You go as soon as he steps in through the doorway?"

"Yep, the second I see him." Ana rolled her dice, checking her own sheet as Patrick did the same. "Twenty-eight to hit?"

"That hits, roll damage. Patrick?"

"Twenty-five."

"Nice rolls - that hits as well." Erin glanced down at her sheet, rolling her own dice quickly to see if her NPC might be able to avoid either of these. "Actually, Barkspawn, roll a dexterity check for me quick to see if you can get him off his feet."

"Sixteen damage," Ana said, leaning forward hopefully.

"So, as the captain of the guard steps in through the doorway, Sten swings his massive greataxe, and it sinks into the captain's shoulder, crunching through plate armor and pressing chain-mail and cloth into quite a significant wound. Blood spurts out as he yells in pain, the sound echoing down the hallway he came from. Patrick, what did you get?"

"I rolled a seventeen on the dex, and a ... three damage." Patrick threw Brian a dirty look across the table as the other man laughed. "What? I only have teeth and claws!"

"Well, he rolled a four on his saving throw," Erin assured him, "so as Sten rips the axe out of this gaping, bleeding wound in the captain's shoulder, Barkspawn charges toward him, gripping one of his ankles in his vicious teeth and pulling hard. The captain staggers, and falls down hard. He is now prone."

"Do I get an attack of opportunity?" Ana asked hopefully. "Since, you know, he's gone from standing in front of me to lying on the floor."

"Technically ... no," Erin began to say, but she knew better than to force a technical point. What was the point of the game if it wasn’t fun? "But in this instance, why not? Roll another attack, with advantage because he's prone."

"Excellent."

"You're so blood-thirsty," Patrick commented over the sound of the dice rolls. "I love it."

"I'm a large, impatient man with a greataxe," Ana answered cheerfully. "Twenty-six again, and fourteen damage."

"As the guard captain falls, Sten takes another swing with his greataxe, and this time the blade sinks into the man's leg, blood flowing freely from this new wound as he screams in pain again. He's hurting, but he's not dead, and you can hear the sounds of other guards rushing toward the sound of his screams."

"I cast Polymorph on him while he's down," Patrick announced, one finger in the air as he scanned his spell sheet.

"What's the save on that?" Erin picked up her dice to roll.

"Uh, that is ... wait for it, wait for it ..." He peered at his sheet, scanning desperately for the appropriate number. "I really need to organize this - oh! Wisdom, fifteen!"

Erin rolled for the saving throw, and snorted with laughter.

"Natural three," she laughed, shaking her head again. "What are you turning him into?"

"A flea," her brother said firmly.

"Seriously?" Ana looked at him in astonishment. "You know he's just gonna bite you to all hell."

"Yeah, but I'm a dog," he pointed out. "What's another flea?"

To the sound of the laughter rising around the table, Erin tried to get control of the narrative again.

"All right. As the sound of the approaching guards gets louder, Barkspawn channels his druidic magic, and suddenly the guard captain is no longer visible. A moment later, you feel a sharp bite on the inside of your ear."

"I scratch that ear." Patrick grinned.

"Fair enough, okay. But as you look up, you see four more guards heading toward you, swords drawn, ready to fight."

Erin looked at Ana and Patrick with a slightly evil grin.

"Roll for initiative."

[wonderlustlucas]

eggs - lee taeyong

⇢ prompt Breakfast does not go to the stomach, it goes to the heart. ⇢ pairing taeyong x female reader ⇢ word count 3.1k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none unless fluff gives u whiplash :D ⇢ summary “Taeyong fluff. basically like they aren’t a couple yet but they know they both like each other so they’re all cutesy and shit :) plot doesn’t really matter tbh as long as it’s some cute ass fluff”—request ⇢ a/n��take this fluffy shit and shove it up ur ass for optimum benefit

“Noona, will you please make us breakfast?” You are one hundred percent going to kill him.

“Ten, call me that again and the only thing I will cook is your arms and legs. I just bought cereal and milk, so leave me alone,” you groan like a branch under the weight of snow, rolling away from the brightness of the sun filtering through the window and swinging a leg out from beneath the covers to dangle off the bed. “No, you finished the cereal Thursday and never told me to pick up more, plus there’s no milk left,” Ten retorts, voice muffled behind the white door and at the sound of his—your—friends laughing, you feel like screaming. “Then go out and buy some more!”

“___, there’s like fifty eggs in the fridge, plus it’s past twelve and loverboy is starving, don’t you want to cook for T—“

“Okay, shut up!” You shout, accepting defeat rather than embarrassment and whipping the blankets away with an annoyed sigh. Picking a crumpled tee shirt from the floor, you pull it over your head with a certain irritation and make way for the door, swinging it open and glaring coldly at the grinning boy despite the heat growing on your cheeks like sunburn. “I hope you rot in Hell,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest and stomping past him.

In a weak attempt to move past your guests as quietly as possible, you direct your attention to the floor and scurry through the living room quiet as a mouse, embarrassingly aware of loverboy’s—as Ten called him—presence. “Morning, ___.”

Caught. “Good morning,” you sigh, finally averting your gaze to look at the trio and offering a feeble wave. Maybe if you just pretend that he isn’t here, you can survive the day. However, as soon as your eyes land on Lee Taeyong and all his glory, hot rosiness is already burning its way up your neck quicker than before and settling on the apples of your cheeks. Curse you, you want to say, mouth sour and stare fixated on the brunette for a heartbeat too long until he smiles and you embarrassingly hurry on to the kitchen.

If it’s not for the incessant growling of your stomach, you truly contemplate opening the refrigerator door just to slam it back on your head; however, even though you would never admit it, cooking breakfast for Taeyong remains to be your first and foremost priority on this lovely afternoon. And so, no matter how much you don’t want to, you smack a cast-iron pan loudly on the stove and twist on the gas, pausing to count with your fingers how many eggs you’ll need before eventually just grabbing the whole carton.

You see, developing a crush on one of Ten’s friends was never part of the plan. To be entirely honest, you had laid in bed the night Ten first moved in, tucked delightfully in your duvets wondering how in the name of God you were going to survive just a week without falling for him. However, as time went on, Ten’s fiery attitude and the fact that it seemed as if his friend Johnny was the one who in fact moved in based on the amount of time he spent in your shared apartment made it quite painless to get over the brief obsession in your newest flatmate.

And while Ten does have a mentality spicier than sriracha, you could not find it in yourself to complain when he brought not one but three friends over two months into moving in. By that time, you were fairly close to Johnny, considering he was knocking on the door almost every day (at this point, you had already settled on the idea that the two were one hundred and fifty percent dating, although you would never ask), but had zero ideas that Ten even had other friends, let alone met them.

And to be quite frank, you did not expect another two attractive men to enter your life. Jung Jaehyun, quite possibly the most angelic human you have ever met and Lee Taeyong, the greatest threat to your existence.

Perhaps you would not have fallen so quickly if it was not for the fact Ten was adamant on having the three over every fucking day. The first time you met was a terrifying case of embarrassment; you had been sleeping in when you woke to quite possibly the loudest noise to ever enter your eardrums. And so, with speed faster than light, you fled from bed with nothing but measly undergarments to see what sort of Satanic ritual Ten was pulling, only to find two strangers grimacing at an enormous box now flat on the floor.

It was painfully awkward, from the moment they noticed your ghastly presence in the doorway, to the realization they just dropped the new television Ten just bought, and finally to the fact you were practically naked in front of them. Without even a glance to their faces and with a noise akin to a frightened mouse caught in a trap you spun back behind the door, slammed it closed, and dove back into bed, shivering under the covers and planning your plan of survival that included never leaving the one hundred and twenty-seven square feet of your bedroom.

However, five hours later your stomach had a mind of its own.

6:07 PM - To Ten: i will literally do absolutely anything u want ever in ur life if u bring me cereal

6:07 PM - From Ten: No shot

6:07 PM - To Ten: oh my god ten please

6:08 PM - From Ten: I think my friends need an apology for seeing ur titties this morning🤧

6:08 PM - To Ten: please dont do this to me im so hungry i will literally do anything

6:08 PM - From Ten: Bj?

6:08 PM - To Ten: yes an infinite everyday

6:08 PM - From Ten: hmmmm

6:09 PM - From Ten: nah

6:09 PM - From Ten: come get food urself

With an infuriated, muffled scream into the downy pillow, you hurl your phone to the mattress before leaning up and mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of teasing from your sinister flatmate. Sighing obnoxiously as you exit your bedroom for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, absolutely nothing in the entire fucking universe could have prepared you enough for the unquestionably perfectly crafted specimen of Lee Taeyong.

Upon first glance, you barely noticed his figure hidden in the corner of the room, simply a monochrome silhouette concealed in the darkness. It was not until the hues flashing from the television lit up the dark space with brightly colored shades from a commercial did he come into view, seated on the farthest side of the sofa. He was like a single brilliant star on a sky of perfect midnight velvet, a star whose gravity stole the air from your lungs and left you breathless in the doorway upon first glance.

He was by far the most alluring human you have ever seen.

“Hey ___!” Ten suddenly shouted, cutting your train—or lack thereof—of thought into shreds and replacing it with your previous hatred. “Die,” was all you said, earning a chuckle from someone, although you could not seem to care to find out who and instead continued for the kitchen.

“How’s your day been?” He continued, yelling from the other room and you contemplated whacking the side of his head with a cast-iron pan. “Don’t talk to me,” you shouted back while rummaging through the refrigerator, only to pull out a container of half empty white rice left over two days prior and a gallon of Breyers Extra Creamy Vanilla from the freezer.

“Are you grumpy because of what happened this morning?” He singsongs, followed by just leave her alone from an unknown voice as you grab two spoons and slam the drawer close. He was truly pushing your buttons. Ice cream, rice, and spoons in hand you made way for the living room, paused midway, and mercilessly pegged one of the metal spoons at Ten.

It unexpectedly hit him square in the forehead, creating a chorus of oohs from the others and you beamed. “Don’t forget who owns this apartment, Chittaphon,” you sneered, gracing his friends with a beaming smile before spinning on your heels and marching back into your bedroom.

Needless to say, Ten found it in himself to never tread that deep into your patience again and even apologized the next morning. However, the image stuck in your brain of whoever sat in the corner of the living room could not go without questioning.

“Hey, who was over last night, by the way?” You asked as Ten took a seat on the couch beside you, flicking between different television channels. “Taeyong and Jaehyun.”

“Which one had the pink hair?”

Ten huffed, throwing in the towel when it came to choosing an adequate channel, “Taeyong, why?”

You shrugged, “Nothing.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not dumb, c’mon. You think he’s cute?” More than cute.

“I only saw him for like, a millisecond,” you sniffed, waving him off and returning to your assignment. “Good news. They’re coming over again tonight!”

You groaned, throwing your head back onto the plush cushion and kneading your eyes with your knuckles. “I didn’t pick up enough groceries to feed a whole soccer team,” you sighed, lolling your head over to blink at him. “We have eggs?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Tae will help you.”

And only after a proper introduction when Johnny, Jaehyun, and Taeyong arrived an hour later, you found yourself in the talons of a trap designed to drag you down into the depths of drool-worthy dreams and endless nights of “being in your bag.”

When it came time to cook a meal for the new clan you found ravaging your apartment, it took no less than half a minute for the cotton candy haired art-major (something you found out about him during some unacceptably adorable small talk) to jump up from his spot on the loveseat to aid you in any way possible.

“You like cooking?” He asked as you passed him another egg to be whisked, and you laughed heartily. “No, I just have to so I don’t blow all my money on takeout,” you explained, shrugged, and then followed with, “well, I don’t know. If I had time to cook out of enjoyment rather than survival, I would probably like it.”

“You should, it can be really relaxing,” he said, voice luxurious velvet as he poured the whisked eggs into the hot pan. “I don’t really know any recipes,” you shrugged, watching with quiet admiration as he went through what minimal spices you had while simultaneously folding the eggs into what would eventually be an omelet.

“Oh! I’ll have to show some you one day, then,” Taeyong grinned, and no matter how hard you tried you could not fight the rosy blush warming your features.

It was at this moment you realized you were royally fucked. There was absolutely no way of getting out of this one, you told yourself, and it was a constant reminder nearly every day when him, Johnny, and Jaehyun made their entrance. It was especially obvious on days he came over after class, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and revealing an inch too much skin that made your insides crawl, or the alone time you shared when he would help you in the kitchen, when one day over the course of three months you realized it had gone from two strangers forced to feed a group of helpless college kids to a pair naturally creating meals together, including a handful too many hip bumps, tickles, and any other type of physical touching to be categorized as just friends.

“No way,” you blew Ten off one morning when he asked if you thought you would ever date Taeyong, “he doesn’t like me like that.”

When all he did was roll his eyes, some part of you truly did drop with disappointment. For if he had said, “You should hear how he talks about you,” or, “You really are a dumb bitch,” then maybe you would have had some hope. But his lack of response confirmed your thoughts: Taeyong was an unattainable love.

Four months later, you and your now crimson haired friend dragged an absolutely wasted beyond repair Ten into his bedroom, flung him onto his mattress, removed his shoes, and patted him a good night.

“Sorry you had to deal with him,” you frowned, making way for the tiny kitchen and offering him a water in which he graciously took. Lord knows, if you had known he was coming, you would have been more prepared. And yet there you were, in nothing but an oversized tee shirt in front of the man who held all the stars in his irises and the very being of you in his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taeyong smiled, clicked his tongue after taking a sip of water, “either way, I got to see my gi—you.”

Realizing his miniscule slip-up, Taeyong’s eyes grew the size of saucers, as did yours. My girl? Was that what he was going to say? You gulped, windpipe suddenly dryer than any desert on Earth, heart bumping frantically in your chest because holy shit, were you to blow it off or act on it?

Taeyong cleared his throat, and you did the same, an awkward tension suddenly filling the room thick like syrup and you were suffocating. “Anyway, I’m gonna head home. G’night, ___,” said Taeyong, offering a weak pat to your cheek. You watched him in silence as he left, and as soon as the door shut behind him the world came crashing down, the walls suddenly seemed to shrink and you hopped off the barstool in order to save yourself and sped to your bedroom in a rush of excitement and undeniable shock.

Only two days later you saw him again, a mini celebration in your apartment for the end of the semester with a bit too much soju involved. You found yourself curled into his side as the antics settled down further into the night, however alcohol still had your nerves on fire and you were hyperaware of Taeyong’s hand on what was exposed of your waist where your shirt had ridden up, long fingers drawing random patterns onto the bare skin and you could not breathe.

“___,” he said, you turned from the loud Raymour & Flanigan commercial blaring from the television to look at him, eyes wide and honest and his heart lurched. He suddenly could not find it in himself anymore to ask if he could stay the night and instead languidly studied your pretty features, face hovering closely above your own so you could feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks and he did not know what to do.

“Taeyong!”

Ten shouted and the two of you jerked back, the serene moment suddenly popped like a bubble and you wanted to scream at him for ruining the possibilities.

The exchange between Taeyong and Ten turned to nothing but marbles in your ears, the idea of kissing him much too loud and growing from a small mustard seed hidden within your brain to an enormous tree. Except now it was in bold font and flashing every color known to man because there was no way he was actually going to kiss you, right?

Fast forward nearly a month later and here you were, found in yet another treacherous predicament as the man of your dreams sat only feet away. The past twenty-seven days were the worst of your life, you tell yourself; for every time you close your eyes, all you can picture is all the diminutive moments shared with Taeyong since your almost-kiss, every insignificant touch, every drawn-out ogling, every unnecessary compliment that only increasing became worse because Ten told him that you liked him. And instead of bringing it up, too fearful to do so even though you are convinced he must like you back, you push it away, avoiding any possible interaction that will lead to your potential collapse.

And so, when a, “Hey, do you want any help?” erupts from just around the wall, you nearly drop an egg when every muscle in your body freezes because yes he’s here but no get away. “Um,” you sniff, glancing down at the dozen eggs and then back to the boy sporting hair the shade of oozy caramel, “sure.”

You go on in silence, continuously passing Taeyong an egg to be cracked and then throwing out the shells, and you are telling yourself oh, this isn’t too bad until he decides to break the relative silence, “I like you.” You blink, squint at the wall before moving around him to wash yoke from your hands, hearing the words from those damn kissable lips makes your legs burn and heart thump at a rate that definitely is not healthy. “I know,” you finally answer, voice clogged in the back of your throat so you continue, “I like you too.”

“I know,” says Taeyong once you look up at him and he bestows upon you a toothy grin.

“I’m glad that’s settled, then,” you laugh breathlessly, leaning into his side as he scrambles the eggs, cheek pressed against his bicep, “you’re bulking up, I like it.” Taeyong drops his head to look down and you glance up with a smile that cannot seem to leave your face. “Jaehyun said the same thing,” he grins, pulling his arm away so that you must pull away but, just as your lips start to pout, he pulls your body close and wraps his arms around your waist.

In a sudden surge of courage, you raise your hand to trail a finger down the razor-sharp edge of his jawline, something you have dreamed of doing for months and now that you are finally able to, you do not know whether you will ever be able to stop. “Wow,” you almost say, breathlessly infatuated by his presence, however, the sudden pressure of his lips upon yours steals your breath furthermore and suddenly everything is all him and you pull yourself closer, air hitching in your lungs, nerves fizzing with sparks, melding your mouth against his own as the anticipation of kissing him over the past months has reached its boiling point.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” Taeyong asks once you have pulled away, lips swollen red. “That’s the general plan, yes,” you laugh softly, planting a milder peck on the side of his mouth.

.

.

.

“Does anyone smell burning eggs?”