#lord scourge x reader

[the-tomato-patch]

Fluffyfebruary - Prompt 1: Snow

Fandom: SW:TOR ( Star War: The Old Republic )

Pairing: GN! Reader x Lord Scourge

Written for: @fluffyfebruary

Tags: Fluff without plot, potential ooc, cloak sharing?

You weren't aware that it snowed on Odesson. Granted it was the first year you were actually spending a proper winter here since joining the Alliance, but to be fair, your duties hadn't required you to give this world much attention. There hadn't been the slightest white dusting in your line of sight since your arrival, and maybe not for years before that either. Who knew. Who could possibly recall the last time it snowed on Odesson— the answer not being you. What with one catastrophe to the next, you couldn't have afforded the time to wonder. And evidently, neither could the Alliance, as the kriffing heat was busted too.

Today heavy clouds carried fat flakes of snow which fell upon the planet and collected where it lay. While Odesson could handle a light sprinkle, the lack of cold weather gear or warm clothes to bundle in left you feeling less prepared to meet it than normal. Like a protective shell, you wrapped your hands inside the excess material of your sleeves around your wrists. You shivered while pulling the collar higher up the sides of your neck and drew the hood over your head in the hope it would trap more heat.

The meager ensemble was the most suitable clothing you could dig out of your closet, though. And it would be some time before you could seek other, more sufficient outfits to get yourself through the rest of the season. Kriff it all, you might be in for an unfortunate, freezing week or three. It's not like you didn't deserve such hardships in the least, but did it have to be so blasted cold?

As you marched from the exterior of the base, your head was down in hopes the additional fabric over your face could block the bitter gusts which swept the open corridor. The icy needles were strong enough to make tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as they stung into your cheeks. Your breath danced out of your mouth and nose in a cloud of white fog.

"Take my cloak." A shadow stepped into your path, startling your gaze to lift, "You're cold."

You gawked, still reeling at his offer, when the dark lord returned your stare. His intense red pupils seemed to search your very soul. That and he'd spoken to you of his own accord— surely a strange day. Perhaps, a trick. No, it has to be. Still, you nodded an acceptance as the Sith stood tall and began to remove the swath of his cloak from his broad shoulders. He was so quick in response, a surprised gasp tumbled out of you when a newfound heat hit your chest in the most delightful way.

The shock of warmth rushed across your body, banishing some of the frost which clung to your bones. You gulped, reminded then how easily Lord Scourge was capable of killing. You knew the former emperor's Wrath had no ill intentions now, but his imposing figure was enough to make a chill run up the length of your spine. "I know the Alliance's current facilities are somewhat subpar—" he drew the edges of his black cloak around your shoulders a little tighter— "but perhaps, we can fix that."

With the air of superiority Scourge typically held, and the dark power of a Sith always laced in his veins, it had taken a moment to understand just how Lord Scourge wasn't completely immune to the harsh winds himself. Now, without his cloak, the Sith wore the thin, yet heavy weight, of his armor. In all the time you'd known Lord Scourge, he appeared unperturbed by many things and never acknowledged such discomforts or weaknesses. Had he merely pushed them aside? Or was the fact that this is something which couldn't be avoided making the thought all the more urgent in your mind.

Either way, the fact that he'd seen the cold rattle you so easily and had willingly removed the protective cover he could've kept over his own body, left you grateful.

You did the best you could not to take notice of his unusual softness. Though you had come to be familiar with this side of him as well since befriending him, the smallest parts of him were always easier to pick up on than others. Maybe that's why he doesn't share his kindnesses and generous moods so openly. Everyone's got to start somewhere, and it could prove awkward and clumsy if he went about it in full. As awkward and clumsy as he once made his introductions, for sure. And he already felt uncomfortable at times. But how lovely and endearing it was to learn a part of his heart you never thought would reveal itself.

"Thank you, Scourge," you said with an appreciative smile in place.

The glum attitude had suddenly shed itself, leaving a newfound appreciation in its place. You swallowed another cold shudder and hoped the deep hood of his cloak would do its job and hide some of your blushing.

It may or may not. It couldn't be avoided— not the affection.

"It is nothing," the Sith uttered with a curt bow of his head.

You barely managed to follow his step, Scourge didn't slow his stride and even quickened it. Once you had fallen into stride, it didn't take long for your gait to catch up with his, though the angle of his pace took you somewhere else entirely, forcing you to study the length of his arm. You ran a slow eye along his sinewed, nearly perfect build. When a pang of self-consciousness seized your confidence, you lifted the line of your sights and struggled to be free of the temptation to gaze his way.

Then Scourge would pass a subtle glance at you. It must have been the lingering shivers from the cold because every time you glanced his way, it was like lightning shooting straight up the length of your spine.

Stars. Stop it, he's only offering you a cloak.

Scourge looked back again to offer you a curious eye. His attention shifted your way, and when he opened his mouth to speak, a ping on his holocomm went off.

You never got the chance to discover his intentions, or even why he was interested to ask, the ring of his holocomm brought all those answers to a crashing halt. With a displeased hum, Scourge took the time to answer, turning a way for privacy. When the holo communication finally ended, a fresh sigh had the Sith returning his gaze to you, but when the inevitable happened, Scourge's footsteps also came to a standstill.

"I'm needed. You would do best to hurry and remain indoors," the Sith stated. He tilted his head as the contemplation of words danced behind his eyes. But they remained unsaid. You reached around to take the cloak from your shoulders, but his hand paused your efforts to return it. "Do not forget to hold onto my cloak," Scourge muttered.

The sith stepped aside to create a wider gap between the two of you. His ruby eyes latched onto your person. Scourge gave you an amiable, comforting nod. You smiled a faint grin in kind. "Keep warm."

"You, too," you muttered. Scourge bowed his head and turned, striding away.

#lord scourge x oc #lord scourge x reader #lord scourge x y/n #lord scourge x you #ive been wanting to do a y/n self insert series for some time but have never known what to write or who to do it for. and who better than #the angry tomato who could always use more content #embrace the cringe #swtor #star wars the old republic #fluffyfebruary #fluff february #fluff fanfiction #swtor fanfiction #second person pov #tomato-patch drabble #lord scourge

[huramuna]

even in undeath - chapter 1.

lich king aemond x reader a 'world of warcraft' AU. prev | next

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge. Consisting of thousands of walking corpses, disembodied spirits, beasts of the north, and damned mortal men, the Scourge is a terrifying and insidious enemy.

word count: 2.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, DUBCON, smut, heavy heavy angst, graphic depictions of violence, allusions to cannibalism, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, suicidal thoughts and ideation, mutilation of corpses, obsessive aemond, dark aemond, a happy ending is not in our future. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS! This story will be pretty dark.

story playlist

It was dark and cold. There was a faint dripping of water somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t quite see where. The echoes of whimpers ricocheted off of the craggy walls, stinging your eardrums. 

This was the descent into madness, wasn’t it?

You weren’t sure how long you’d been chained up for— how long had it been since your village burned to the ground? Since you watched the ghouls rip apart the cow farmer from down the road. Since you watched hellhounds crunching on little Mary Jay’s bones. Since you had watched your mother and stepfather plead and beg for their lives, for forgiveness, for mercy, for absolution of their supposed sins before the death knight’s sword lopped their heads off. 

How long has it been? 

Shifting slightly, the chain tied to your throat clinked against the wall. There was no light, no passage of time to be had in the dank, pitch black cave they stowed you and a few select others in. You only had on a ragged potato sack as a dress, the sensation of dirt and grime caked on your hair and under your nails making you feel less than human. 

But— you were still human. For now. The Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms without mercy, swiping through the North and South like a fast traveling plague, curdling and damning everything it touched. Hordes of undead zombies, ghouls and hellhounds were the first to raze the cities, driving out the people like mice from the walls. Then the banshees came, along with the necromancers to raise the dead, adding them to a forever amounting army.

Not even Quel’thalas had been able to resist it, an ancient elven city hewn in magic.

What chance did you have? 

More than most, evidently. Your mind wrought itself over and over as to why— why were you alive? Why were you still human and not merely a risen thrall? 

The clinking of armor scared you as it ascended the hallway. You pressed close to the wall and closed your eyes. 

Please don’t stop here, please don’t stop here. 

Clink, clink, clink… closer… closer… 

Then it passed, descending further away. You let out a breath, your blood still pumping in your ears. 

Clink, clink, clink. They were coming back. Clink… silence. You felt bile rise in your throat as you shook, the chains rattling noisily. You knew they were standing there, you knew they were here for you. 

A harsh tug upon your chain, your head hitting the floor— some words were mumbled, the voice sounding far away and broken. Your eardrums rang with the ferocity of your fall, drowning out any semblance of what your jailer was saying to you. Then, you were tugged upward, the cool metal of the collar biting into your skin as you were dragged like a petulant child away from your cell… 

You didn’t want to open your eyes. You couldn’t face the horror you knew was around you— corpses, living ones and dead, the clatter of bones, the heavy breathing of gargantuan abominations, bodies and faces of countless people stitched together into a new body, hewn with thread and necrotic magic until it gave way to something else entirely. Something unnatural, something made of nightmares. The dermis of those who were used to make the monsters would still twitch, reach out on its own, and if it had a mouth, it would be twisted into a scream. You swore that you heard them whispering as you were dragged by. 

The monstrosities were one of many abhorrent creatures at the Scourge’s disposal. Hellhounds, ghouls, gargoyles, wraiths, crypt lords, geists, banshees, and other things of horrific nature were only some of the power wielded by the Scourge. It felt like it was all pulled out of a child’s fairytale, changed and twisted and defiled into what it was now. 

It all felt like a very bad dream. 

Your eyes opened on their own and you took in the image of death knights, former paladins who served a higher power, the Light— now are nothing but undead heretics, glowing eyes and gaunt stares that bored through you. 

Some of the monsters chittered as you were dragged past them, leering and looking hungry. 

‘Scrawny that one. Perhaps she will suffice for hellhounds to pick their teeth.’

‘Speak for yourself, her skin will do beautifully on a new abomination.’ 

‘She won’t be knighted. Merely a maid’s bastard, I’ve heard.’

You forced your eyes to close once more, the sudden light stinging them. You forced yourself into another time, a better memory than what you were experiencing. 

They were right, you were a maid’s bastard. Your mother had served in the royal keep for years, with you under her feet. You didn’t know who your true father was, nor did you care.

You became attached to the second son of the King— Aemond Targaryen. He was a sprightly boy with near white hair and luminous violet eyes. The two of you were attached at the hip. 

Childhood friendship blossomed into more as you grew into teenagers and young adults— you shared your first kiss together, you held hands and shared sweet nothings. As he trained by day to become a paladin of the Light, he held you close by night, vowing to never let you go. You were both terribly in love and so terribly, terribly naive. He was your first in everything– your first friend, your first kiss, your first lover. You promised yourself that he would stay your first and only.

‘You can never marry a maid’s bastard, Aemond! You’re a prince of the realm-‘

‘I don’t care! I want her, father. I’ve always wanted her!’

Your mother quit her job at the castle— moreso, threatened into quitting by some of the King’s advisors. She was given a considerable amount of coin and told to take you far, far away and to not contact the prince again. 

Heartbroken, you left him your sapphire ring, the only thing of value you ever had, which had been passed down through your mother’s family for generations. 

It was left on his desk with a note of few words but much feeling. 

‘I love you. I’m sorry.’ 

That was over ten years ago. You hadn’t seen him since, but you missed him horribly. Especially now. You wondered if he was still alive, fighting against the Scourge like his knightly vows dictated. 

Maybe he was married and moved across the sea to Kalimdor where it was safer. 

Or maybe he was dead. Dead like almost everyone else you knew. 

You heard a rumor, fleeting and without much more information, that his father had died– no, that his father had been murdered. The fall of the king, Viserys, is what started the Scourge war. Did Aemond know, wherever he was? 

You imagined him holding his arms around you, kissing your neck and fanning his breath over your skin. He liked to encompass you completely with his body when you laid together— you never could emulate the feeling with heavy blankets and pillows, as much as you tried. Putting yourself back into that memory, you wrapped your arms around yourself, willing warmth into your body. 

But you didn’t feel any warmth. All you felt was cold, cold down to your bones. They felt brittle, like ice, splintering into shards as you were thrown on the floor again in a different room. Pain bloomed in your arm as it cracked at an awkward angle. Broken. 

Your ears rang again as your mouth opened into a scream, tears of pure anguish squeezing from your eyes. But you didn’t hear a thing besides the rush of blood dampening your senses— and the sickening crunch of your broken bones. 

‘What have you done to it, Lady Deathwhisper? It looks broken.’ 

‘It’s human bones are so brittle, it was merely a slip of the hand. I cannot help that their living constitution is so weak.’ 

‘His grace will not be pleased if it is broken beyond repair.’ 

‘Worry not, Lady Alys. Most things can be mended— and if not, it can always be raised.’ 

‘Physical defects aren’t the only issue. What of its mind?’

You feel an acute sensation over your skull, reaching into the depths of your cranium. Its cold, but not stinging— like a soft caress upon your brain as your mind is rifled through like a tome. You can feel your memories being perused, all of the most intimate moments of your life flashing in your head like playwright’s prose. The physicality of your mind being invaded wasn’t painful, but the act of your memories being ripped from you was damning. Tears fell down your face on their own, your mouth opened into a silent scream.

‘She is the one— I saw it. You are lucky that you did not break her mind completely, Lady Deathwhisper.’ 

‘As are you. You do not have a deft hand when it comes to memory perusal, Lady Alys. I am surprised that it still has a brain in its skull.’ 

‘Shut up and bring her to him. He will be pleased she is still alive. Barely.’ 

You felt yourself being moved again, still reeling from the invasion of your mind. You tried to put yourself back into the safe haven of memories, but they were… locked. Locked behind an iron door with no keyhole. They were lost to you. 

What were you trying to remember? 

Flashes of white hair and violet eyes flitted behind your eyelids, soft caresses and kisses, heavy breathing and love filled promises, the sensation of skin to skin… 

Your eyes opened, vision bleary. A helmed woman followed behind you, wings outstretched. You could see the glint of green eyes under her helm. Val’kyr. The woman behind you was a Val’kyr, a spirit guide who defected to the side of the Scourge. They could move between the realm of living and dead as simply as taking a breath. 

“The little human is awake,” she mused. “Your mind isn’t broken after all? I do see a glint of intelligence behind those eyes. Keep them on me, you shan’t wish to look upon Lady Deathwhisper.” 

You didn’t want to speak, words caught in your throat like food stuck in your craw. A val’kyr was basically an angel of death and talking to one must mean you are dead. 

You wish you were. 

The chains scraped against the floor, which was no longer stone like before, but rather, hardened ice. You were ascending upward, it seemed. The architecture of the building was nothing like you’d ever seen— dark metal was plated upon the walls, inscribed with glowing runes. The runes looked… familiar to you, somehow. But the memory that contained them was locked away, or mayhaps stolen by the Val’kyr, Alys. 

The temperature was cold, you were being lofted upon ice, of course, but you didn’t wholly feel it. You were partially numb, heat radiating from your broken arm. You knew you should be feeling pain— but you were just… numb. 

Your escorts stopped in front of two large doors, inscribed with the same glowing runes. Against Alys’ advice, you glanced at ‘Lady Deathwhisper’. She was skeletal, floating upon the ground with no legs to speak of. Her robes were purple fabric, molded around an incorporeal body. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand, the scratchy voice of hers coming out of a bone skull, but the mouth wasn’t moving, maw open as the words came out. 

You should have listened to Alys. 

The door opened with a rumble, opened by ancient magic, likely imbued by the runes, as they flickered and flitted above your head as it opened. The room beyond was open and bereft of almost anything, except for a throne. A throne forged of ice and swords. 

Someone was sitting upon it in a lazed position, one plated gloved finger tapping on the arm of the throne.

“We’ve brought her, your grace,” Lady Deathwhisper growled, shoving you forward. You skidded across the floor, which felt slick like grazing atop an ice-capped lake. “Alys confirmed it is her.”

The clinking of armor caught your attention, the sound of metal grazing against ice. It was irritating and made you grind your teeth. As whoever was on the throne got closer, the force was oppressive. Whimpers and tiny cries were ripped from you as they walked towards you, the aura exuding from them causing you to fall flat to the ground, feeling as if someone was sitting atop of your chest and not letting up.

The steel plated boot was in front of you now and your hair was grabbed rather harshly, pulling you up. 

Don’t look, don’t look. You cannot look.

“Look. At. Me.” the voice growled. It was quiet but commanding at the same time, rattling in your bones and making a home amongst the marrow. It felt familiar… so… 

You lifted your bloodshot eyes, not out of your own volition, but from the authority of the voice.

“Hello, little dove.” he mused.

It was him. It was… it… Aemond. You knew him so well, even with ten years gone. His chiseled jawline and chin and the dimple of the tip of his nose… 

But his eye was missing, a jagged scar bisecting it. In its place was a sapphire. The sapphire from your ring, grown into something to make home in the socket.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, your stomach flipped and flopped like a fish hoisted from the sea, sputtering for air. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t–

Your best friend, your lover, the one you vowed to never forget, to never forsake.

Aemond Targaryen. 

Aemond Targaryen was the Lich King. A defiler, a mass murderer, an unholy being in his own right.

“Now you won’t be able to leave again, will you?” Aemond murmured, his violet eye roving you. It was glowing slightly– his skin was a pale gray pallor, cheeks sunken slightly. He was undead.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, vision going black.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing #even in undeath #hotd au

[sanjoongie]

All that's delicious is dipped in gold

To my lovely @daesukiii, here's a drabble I wrote in mind for you. I hope you enjoy and it brightens up your birthday 😘 thank you for being the seonghwa to my joong 😂

👑Pairing: Earl! Jung Wooyoung x Countess! Reader (f) 👑Au: Royalty Au 👑Trope: fuckboi to marriage 😆 👑Genre: smut, pwp 👑Rating: 18+, MDNI 👑Warnings: penetrative sex with no barrier (we are trying to make babies here), creampie, begging, nipple play, wooyoung just looking to take care of his new wifey 👑Word Count: 1,689 👑Summary: it's your first night with the earl and denying him only intensifies the pleasure he's about to bring to your marriage bed

You cling the luxurious sheets to your chest, your heart pounding a mile a minute. Any minute now the earl--your newly-appointed husband-- would enter this room. His domain, his rules. You needed to consummate the marriage, hopefully become pregnant with an heir. But you had married a scourge, a rogue, a lord with no honor. He was your husband now, however, and your body became his new plaything.

“I've arrived!” Wooyoung declared throwing the double doors open wide. He gulped deeply from a jeweled chalice and then threw the glass of wine against a wall, smashing it and letting out a loud noise of happiness at the beverage being consumed.

You flinched at the loud announcement and dramatics, clinging even tighter to the sheet as the footmen hastened to grab the handles of the doors and close them.

Wooyoung’s eager eyes sought out your body and he smiled slowly upon finding you naked and in his bed. “Ah, there you are, Countess.”

He strolled across the room, shrugging off his heavy jacket and throwing that to a chair before the roaring fireplace. He then pulled his flowing white shirt out of being tucked into the waist of his pants and then pulled his shirt off by grabbing the back of it and pulling it over his head. Bare-chest, Wooyoung began to crawl up the bed to you, toeing off his shoes momentarily. He got about halfway up the enormous bed until he started to pull the sheets downwards so that you would have nothing to hide behind.

“Come come, little shepherdess, I promise to not be too rough with your sheep.” Wooyoung had the audacity to grin and then run his tongue along his bottom lip.

“You're hardly a big bad wolf,” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes.

“That's not what your nipples are saying, my love,” Wooyoung teased you.

“It's cold in here and you're taking away the blan--”

Wooyoung grabbed both your feet and pulled you bodily down the bed. You squealed as soon Wooyoung had you boxed in: hands on either side of your head and knees on either side of your hips. “Wife, we are to become one,” Wooyoung said with a roguish smile, perking up one side of his face.

“Let's be reasonable, Wooyoung it's been a long day,” You whispered.

“I agree. I should already have been tongue-deep into you and would be working myself into your tight heat. But someone has a sweet tooth and wanted another serving of dessert.” Wooyoung’s eyes followed the lines of your face, down your neck and into your bosom. “Now it's time for mine.”

“Wouldn't you rather have a deep sleep in which you could ravage me tomorrow?” You managed to squeak, feeling your breath quicken by Wooyoung and his likeness to a wolf wanting to eat you up.

“Why are you avoiding this, wife of mine?” Wooyoung gently bounced your breasts in the palms of his hands, making you moan in response.

“You're going to make me dick-drunk,” You whispered conspiratorially.

Wooyoung blinked at you several times before he finally cracked into laughter. “Are you afraid to become addicted to my lovemaking?” 

“What if you take a lover?” You wailed.

Wooyoung let out a scoff. “We just got married and you're already worried about our passion going cool?”

“I just don't want to get my hopes up,” You grumbled.

Wooyoung dropped his head to hover his lips over yours. “I won't ever let you down.”

With his lips slanted over yours, Wooyoung kissed like he always wanted to leave you wanting more. His short tongue would sweep across your lip to request entrance but when your own chased his, it went back into his mouth. He would pursue you with wanton eagerness but the minute you pushed back into his advances and he would pull back. You whimpered into his mouth and Wooyoung chuckled deeply.

“Please, Wooyoung,” You begged when he broke the kiss.

Wooyoung studied your features and he couldn't look more pleased. “I haven’t even given you what you want and you’re stupid for me.”

Wooyoung ignored the ache between your legs, and the press of his hard-on against the tightness of his pants, and paid homage to the globes of flesh on your chest that had been teasing him all night during the ball to celebrate your marriage. His red-from-wine tongue took broad licks of your nipple, eyes rolled up to your face to view it screwed up into pleasure. He left your nipples so spit-slick that they puckered in the cold air again.

Your lower half began to buck upwards in the air. “Woo-wooyoung,” You panted his name again.

“Tell me what you want from me, Countess,” Wooyoung tempted you with a playful smile.

“I need you… inside me… please!” You pleaded with a whine. 

Wooyoung sucked heavily on two fingers and then found the juncture between your thighs. He hardly needed to wet his fingers because you were almost weeping there for him. “Wife of mine, you are practically dripping for me.”

You casted an arm over your face. This was incredibly embarrassing. You knew this was going to happen. “Shut up, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung clucked his tongue at you. “That’s hardly the manner you should be addressing me, my love.”

Wooyoung began to play with your hole but only to torture you. He would push his finger only up to the first knuckle into your clenching hole and then he endlessly circled your clit but never actually brushed over your sensitive pearl. 

“Wooyoung,” You said his name through clenched teeth.

“Tell me properly what you want, Countess. I want the dirty words coming from your mouth. I want you to be improper just for me,” Wooyoung commanded, tongue caught between his teeth in anticipation. “If you can do that for me, I will fuck you straight to your orgasm.”

You whimpered and widened your legs. “Wooyoung, I need your pretty cock inside my wet hole, please, My Lord.”

The dash of manners tucked into the filthy sentence made Wooyoung’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Oh, he had lucked out by marrying you and making you his Countess. “It would be my pleasure, wife of mine.”

Wooyoung undid the ties of his pants and pulled them down his legs, only so far to free his dick and bare his ass. He played the head of his cock along the folds of your cunt, wetting up his thick cock so that he could penetrate you with ease. You swallowed in anticipation, watching as his head pushed past your wet lips and finally entered you. Your back arched as he fucked his way in; slowly making his way in with shallow thrusts that opened your tight heat to his intrusion. 

Once he was full hilt, all dogs were off to the race. His thrusts were accurate once he found the spongy area that made you gasp. He angled his thrusts so he could always rub over that place, no longer caring for his own orgasm and simply seeking out pleasure for his wife. 

“Woo--Woo,” You whimpered pitifully. At least you could still remember whose cock was inside of you.

“It’s okay, my love, I’ve got you,” Wooyoung cooed to you, pushing hair fondly from your face.

His thrusts were calculated, powerful, and you didn’t even know if you knew where you were right now. The rub of the velvet sheets under your naked body as Wooyoung coaxed an orgasm from you made you spare a moment to think, maybe, you could live the rest of your life in this bed with Wooyoung. “So good,” was all you could manage verbally.

Wooyoung was focused but he was losing his control. You were clenching around him like he was the only thing to keep you alive and that was his cock inside of you. His thrusts became sloppy and you whined at the difference of pace. Wooyoung blew some hair out of his face and mentally slapped himself. He said he would take care of you and he meant that. Did your cunt have to be so fucking good though?

“Gonna cum for me, my love?” Wooyoung said to you, searching to bring you back to him.

Your hands dug into the ample flesh of his ass, urging him deeper and harder inside of you. “Please, unload inside of me. I want you to drip out of me too.”

Well, there went all of Wooyoung’s good intentions.

His thrusts were harder, choppier, and he was gone. He needed the mental imagery out of his head and before his eyes. Wooyoung fucked you through your orgasm, single-mindedly. He didn’t miss the way you whined through the drawn-out orgasm. He didn’t miss the way your walls fluttered around him; like he needed anymore more encouragement to come inside of you. He thrusted deeply inside of you and then felt himself explode there. You had to be better than any well-trained courtesan in the realm. 

You were moaning his name, tossing your head back and forth, when Wooyoung suddenly pulled his cock from your hole. He crudely spread your cunt lips apart so he could watch your fluttering hole push his cum out. He watched with his mouth open in a small, pink ‘o’. He could get used to watching this, perhaps for the rest of his life.

“My lord…” You panted, attempting to push yourself up to meet Wooyoung’s happy grin at the sight between your legs. “That’s not going to get you heirs.”

Wooyoung made the rude noise of blowing a raspberry. “The night is still young. The first shot never matters the first time anyways.”

“The…” You blinked blearedly, “...first time?” 

Wooyoung moved his body up so that he could give your lips a quick peck. “Why, of course, wife of mine. I could hardly deny myself your body while it’s so readily available.”

You whimpered and Wooyoung laughed. “Perhaps some water first and a nice wipe down.”

Somehow you didn’t think that the wipe down was going to be as benign as he was selling it. And you found that you didn’t want it any other way.

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #atz smut #jung wooyoung x reader #daelight 😁 #topaz's works

[gaysindistress]

Running from the Daylight - two

pairings: pirate!James “The Scourge of the Sea” Barnes x royal governor's daughter!reader 

Summary: based on this request

Warnings: reader uses She/her/hers pronouns and is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, suggestive sexual content, violence and mentions of death, sexual content (p in v), some dark shit (like I can’t tag it without spoiling it but people get freaky over someone who’s bleeding) I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor.

Word count: 3.6k

part one | my master list

Tag list: @talesofreading

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif, found on google/Pinterest/tumblr. Credits to @boltlightning for the gif on the bottom left & @owenhcrper for the gif on the bottom right

Begging, pleading, and sucking him dry did nothing to convince James that I’ve been ready to take his cock since that first night.

He would be a monster and allow me to believe that he would finally take me only to stop right before it went too far. He would give me hollow reasons like “the sea is too rough,” “you are too tired,” “we don’t have a proper bed and I will not take your maiden hood without one.”

Useless excuse after useless excuse was all I received for months on end. A part of me wondered if he was growing bored but when I confessed this to him, he spent the following several hours between my legs. He lapped and sucked at my core until I was crying and shaking but kept pulling climaxes from me until I very nearly passed out.

I tried to tempt him by wearing thin nightdresses or simply nothing at all but it all failed. I even convinced Natasha to play along with a scheme in which James would just so happen to find us in the middle of fucking but nothing. All he did was sit in his captain’s chair and watch with sharp eyes, occasionally telling us what to do.

Months of pent up frustration finally came to head when we docked in New Providence to replenish our supplies. My father had been overjoyed to see me again but his happy mood was as soiled when he observed the way that James and I were.

“My darling please tell me that he has not ruined you,” my father harshly whispers to me as he pulls me aside.

I gasp in disbelief and rip my arm away from him.

“Excuse me! You are not allowed to ask me such a thing!”

“I am your father, Y/N Stark. It is well within my rights to know if my daughter has been abused by a pirate.”

I catch the watchful eye of James as he’s instructing his crew and he gives me a concerned look. I brush it off and look back to my father.

“Your daughter has not been abused,” I sneer as I spot the Commodore approaching us, “I’ve been kept safe and protected.”

Steve makes a face at my words as he stops beside us but my father seems satisfied. He backs away and nods goodbye to us before retreating back to his fortress.

“You may speak freely with me; has the pirate lord abused you?”

“The only abuse to be had is that what my throat endures from taking his cock every night,” I calmly state before also leaving to find my captain. I don’t wait to hear or see Steve’s reaction but I can feel his piercing stare on my back.

“You said you wouldn’t fuck me until we had a proper bed,” I say lowly as I drop myself onto the canopied bed behind me, “and I think this meets that requirement.”

James narrows his bright eyes at me but doesn’t move from his place leaning against the raging fireplace. It’s odd seeing him look…normal? He’s out of place in this world of luxury and refinement but here in the room that I once called my own, he looks like he belongs. A part of me wishes to pretend that our pasts were different and that he had been the man who proposed to me, yearning for me for years. I wish that time had been kind to him and that it hadn’t stolen his heart and soul. I wish that I could’ve been the one he fell in love with all those years ago so he wouldn’t have had to face that curse. I wish we could delight in being together alone in my room at my father’s estate, a situation I would’ve blushed to even think about a few months ago. I wish we could ignore the reality of who we are and wholly engulf ourselves in the opportunity that presents itself.

“I did say that, didn’t I love?” He muses for a moment, allowing his eyes to trail down my barely covered body. I’d found an even thinner and smaller nightdress to wear for tonight, hoping that it might finally be what breaks him.

Maybe my last wish would come true.

He pushes off the mantle and prowls towards me. As he gets closer, my body starts to burn with anticipation and I inch back to accommodate his imposing stature. James knocks my legs apart with his knee and slots between them as he leans over me. Both hands cup my face and my eyes flutter closed at his warm touch. He dips down to whisper in my ear and chuckles when my breath hitches.

“You need sleep my love.”

I let out a snort, “no I do not. What I need is…”

He interrupts me with a gentle peck and mutters against my lips, “I know what you need and that is sleep.”

James presses another kiss to my lips with a subtle roll of his hips into mine while wearing a wicked smirk. I stick my tongue out at him as he pulls away and waits for me to settle into bed. He finds his place in the huge and ugly arm chair that my mother insisted I needed in front of the fireplace. His hat is sat on the small table beside him and his feet are kicked out in front of himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, James settles himself into the chair as if he’s going to sleep there and I frown at him.

“I can feel you thinking, love,” he quips and although I can’t see his face, I know there’s a smirk.

“Is that where you intend to sleep? In my armchair that I know is most certainly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in this house?”

His shoulder shrugs and he makes a show of making himself comfortable with a loud sigh.

“It’s perfectly comfortable to me, your highness,” the jab at my upbringing doesn’t go unnoticed, not with the way he elongates the word and lowers his voice.

Scoffing, I throw a pillow at him and he chuckles when it flies past, missing him.

“Remind me to work on your aim in the morning,” he teases me before adding that I need to be going to sleep.

“We’re not on your ship anymore so you’re not my captain,” I snipe and that catches his attention. He perks up and goes to say something smart back but the doors fly open, slamming against the poor walls.

James stays seated albeit ready to jump up if needed. Seeing as he’s playing it cool, I do the same and remain tucked into my bed.

The person who dared interrupt our night is none other than the Commodore. He stands at his full height with a scroll in his hand as he glares at James.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of being granted your presence so late at night, commodore?” James mocks as he watches Steve.

The wigged man says nothing but sends a death glare towards the pirate before looking at me. He takes a step towards me and James makes a clicking noise, telling him to stay put.

“Y/N,” Steve starts as he ignores the subtle warning, “your father has found a way to free you from your deal with this vile creature.”

I glance around him at James who’s smirking to himself and raises one dark brow at me. He’s no longer stretched out like a cat but instead is leaning back against the chair with his head resting on his fist as he watches us.

Turning my attention back to Steve, I ask him to elaborate and elaborate he does.

“You were under duress. You cannot be expected to uphold a deal that you made when you were in fear for your life. Your father and I handled everything, Y/N, all you need to do is say that you were afraid for your life and otherwise would not have made the deal.”

In another life the gut wrenching way that Steve is pleading with me would’ve worked. I would’ve jumped up and ran for him, falling into his arms as I sobbed that I was afraid. I would’ve taken his hand and begged him to save me for the sake of being free from a pirate even if it meant being in debt to him for life.

That is if I hadn’t met James; the man who’s shown my unconditional and undying affection. The man that has sworn to protect me and honor me as if I were his ruling goddess. The man that has seen parts of me that no other man has and the man that I want to know every inch of me, mental and physical.

“Steve, ever the gentleman,” I coo as I push the blankets from my lap and slide off my bed.

“There is but one fault in your proposal,” I state as I softly pad toward the two men, “I was not under duress. I was not afraid for my life by any stretch of the imagination. I was not afraid at all, in fact, I felt the safest I had in years in that moment.”

I can feel the heat of James’ stare on me as I come to stand beside him and continue to tear Steve apart.

“If anything, I was concerned for your life but not afraid. I knew that James would not harm or otherwise act in a way that would scare me. I knew that he would agree to my terms but you,” I point at him and allow my voice to become more harsh, “you were the one I was afraid of. You’ve always been a liability, never quite knowing when you’re going to lash out on those around you. You’ve always freighted me and that night at the bar only solidified my fears that you would cause me harm. Even if my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you or went back with you that day on the Serpent’s Cry. Quite frankly, Steve, I’m perfectly content being bound to this vile creature.”

James snorts from behind me and wraps an arm around me, tugging me to sit on his lap. Steve is fuming, his face turning red with anger at my lecture and I know he’s plotting both of our demises.

The man beneath me grips my chin and tilts my head down so that he can capture my lips in a heated kiss. My hands fly to tangle into his hair as his tongue swipes at my bottom lip. A moan tumbles from me when the hand gripping my chin slides to cup the back of neck.

“Enough!” Steve’s voice rings out and he storms towards us to rip me away.

The familiar cock of a gun halts him and he frantically looks down to see a readied pistol pointing at him. It had been lying under James’ hat, hidden from plain sight so Steve had no chance to draw his open weapon.

James has the audacity to look bored as he holds the weapon and rubs small circles into my hip with his other hand.

“Out,” he orders in a low rumbling voice.

Steve, however, the oaf of a man takes another step forward and James rolls his eyes.

“Is pain the only way you learn, Commodore? Out before I shoot your cock off.”

Steve scoffs at the crude words and I stifle a giggle while tucking my face into James’ neck. He shudders slightly at the feeling and squeezes my hip.

“Y/N,” Steve tries to appeal to me but I’m not having any of it. I begin to plant wet kisses on James’ neck and nip at the soft skin occasionally. Steve calls to me again and I suck a deep red, nearly purple mark into the pirate’s neck which earns me a throaty groan.

A series of sounds ring out and I jolt away from my haven. First is the sound of Steve stepping forward, a gun shot, a cry of pain, and a thud as Steve falls to the ground. With wide eyes I try to look at him but James catches my face in a tight hold, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Don't look at him, love. Eyes on me, understood?” He whispers, letting his lips dance over mine and holding my eye contact with a fierce look swirling in his blue eyes.

I manage a small nod and he smiles at me before addressing Steve who’s clutching his leg.

“I warned you and you did not listen. As far as I’m concerned, you are to blame for the state of your leg. Now I suggest you drag your cowardly self out of this room before I do depart your cock from your body as I promised."

Lost in the way his eyes captive me and his words cause a fire to ignite in my body, I don’t hear Steve’s protests that break through the cries of pain. It’s not until James breaks our trance and rolls his eyes that I realize our situation. I still obey James and don’t look by hiding my face in his neck once again. He coos to me to go to my bed and turn away from them as he helps me stand.

“Keep your eyes on the ground for me,” he tells me when my hand slips from his and I cautiously make my way to my bed.

From behind me, I hear James let out an exaggerated sigh and the crackling of leather from him bending down.

“You’ve shot my leg, how am I to be expected to leave?” Steve hisses through the agonizing pain.

“Drag yourself like the worm you are. It's none of my concern how you choose to obey my command."

“I will not leave her alone with such a demonic savage like yourself.”

There’s a pause, a tension filled pause as I assume James debates what to do. However his next words are not exactly what I was expecting.

“Pain doesn't seem to be a strong enough deterrent for you, Commodore. Remember; you are to blame for your current situation,” he huffs as he yanks Steve up and drops him into the chair we’d been sitting in.

“Love hand me the sheet,” he says to me without looking.

I quickly bundle up the item he’s asking for and toss it to him. I want to ask what he’s planning but it becomes clear when he starts to wrap it around Steve.

“Since you refuse to leave her alone with such a demonic savage, as you put it so beautifully, you’ll have to watch her damnation.”

Steve lets out a roar of protest and it met with a pistol pressed under his jaw.

“You were told to leave and you did not. Seeing her defiled and ravished as she deserves is a fitting punishment. I think this is preferable to death but I am not the true judge. Love?”

The nickname catches me off guard and my eyes dart between them but it’s the stormy eyes of James that are given my full attention.

“What do you think? Should I grant him mercy and kill him before you take my cock? Or should he watch as I take what he's desired for years?"

As I fail to answer, James adds, "I will only do this if this is what you want. If not, I’m more than happy to show him just how acquainted with the devil I am.”

Words escape me and I just nod.

Apparently that’s not good enough.

“Use your words love. Tell us what you want.”

“I…fuck,” I mumble under my breath and James’ smirk spreads across his face. He knows that I want this, that I want nothing more than for him to finally take me even if it means Steve is forced to watch.

“I don’t think the Commodore heard you. Louder.”

“Yes. I want this. I want you. I want you to take me.”

James cocks a brow at Steve with a sinister smirk, “it appears that your pure angel wants me to defile her while you watch.”

The tied up man jerks forward with a threat on his lips and james lets out a terrifying laugh. He ignores the protests and calls me over with the hook of his finger. My body is trembling as I let my feet touch the ground and nearly stumble as I try to walk. Steve must think it’s out of fear but my captain knows it’s due to anticipation.

I stop at his side and James draws away from the injured man to wrap an arm around me. Pulling me in front of him, my back is to his chest and I’m facing Steve. James keeps his gun pointed at him while bending his head to my ear and whispering to me.

“You tell me when you want to stop, understood?“ he tells me in a voice so low I almost don’t hear him. When I don’t acknowledge his statement, he squeezes my hip with his free hand and repeats it.

Breathlessly I agree, “Yes, please James. I need you.”

He nudges my legs apart and drifts his hand from my hip to my core, pulling up my night dress in the process. My head lolls back, falling onto his shoulder and he captures my lips in a searing kiss. Moans and sighs fall without hesitation as he begins to run firm but slow circles into the bundle of nerves that only he can seem to find. His name becomes a chorus that is caught between our lips as the pressure builds within my core. He releases my lips and lets me sing my song for Steve to hear clearly. I feel him smile against my temple as I grow louder and louder. Just as I’m about reach my climax, he pulls his hand away and I nearly cry. A few tears leak from my eyes and he coos sweetly to me.

“Shhhhh love, I promised to defile you and I intend to do that. Lean forward and put your hands on his shoulders.”

“James,” I whimper when I feel him back away.

“Do as you’re told.”

The sounds of his belt and pants dropping silences me. I lean forward and with hazy eyes, look Steve straight on as my hands grip his shoulders. There’s a fire burning in his light eyes and I’ve come to know what it truly is. He can try to deny it but we all know watching me is causing him to grow hard and angry.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks as he whispers my name and I blink hard trying to look at him.

The heavy heat of James behind me distracts me and I drop my head at the feeling of him rutting against me.

He taunts Steve with cruel words as he drags the head of his cock through my folds and pulls wanton moans from my swollen lips.

“James,” I plead, “please.”

He coos mockingly as he lines himself up.

“Louder, my love. I don’t think your fiancé heard you.”

“He’s not my fiancé,” I grit out angrily but it falls flat when he pushes his entire length inside of me. It turns into a wince and pained moan but he doesn’t pull out. He keeps it there, watching me struggle with the pain that morphs into blinding pleasure. Only when I push back against him does he withdraws a few inches but keeps most of his length inside me as he starts to rock his hips into me. He’s slow and deliberate at first, focusing on pulling the loudest and most embarrassing moans he can from me but as his own body betrays him, his hips increase their pace.

Below me Steve is a mess. His breathing is ragged and the color is draining from his face as the blood loss becomes too much. I can’t bare to look at him and James must see that in the way I keep my head bent down. A sharp tug on my hair forces my head up and I see the devastation written lines on his face. The cold barrel on a gun rubs against my scalp and it dawns on me that the hand that’s in my hair is holding the gun. He grunts as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure washes over me. He keeps one hand coiled into my hair as the other slips to my core, rubbing me and drawing my climax from me.

James tugs me up against his chest and I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a nearly painful way but I don't care. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to let go with me. As my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure, he tugs my hair again and demands I look at Steve.

“Look at the Commodore, love. Look at what just watching you does to him,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck. My eyes are heavy and it’s a struggle to do as I’m told but I do and it earns me my climax.

James thrusts up hard one final time and we’re both moaning as I finish. He’s not far behind and groans out my name as he releases his hot seed into me. We’re a panting mess as he slows and eventually stops. He loosens his grip on my hair with a sweet kiss to my temple and whispers praise into my ear.

Intertwined in those sweet phrases is a promise and at first I think it’s for me. Only when the second shot of the night rings out do I realize that it was intended for Steve.

“I hope for your sake that your false god takes pity on you and allows you to die before morning.”

With that he tucks himself back into his pants and lifts me into his arms. My final memory of commodore will be blurred in pleasure and blood but I don’t care. He can bleed out for all I care after he dared to lay a hand on me and insult the man I love.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #running from the daylight bucky #pirate bucky x y/n #pirate bucky x you #pirate bucky imagine #pirate bucky x reader #pirate au #bucky smut #pirate Bucky smut #smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut

[somethingblu3]

Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.

#casulty #neil newbon #father anthony bridge #father anthony bridge x reader #fanfiction #neil newbon smut #anthony bridge #casualty fanfic #bbc Casualty #ao3 cross post #neil newbon x reader #neil newbon fanfiction

[sinisterexaggerator]

Can you please write more Hondo?

Finish what you start

Hondo Ohnaka x Fem! Reader

Summary: Hondo Ohnaka catches you pleasuring yourself in his absence.

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: Masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, pining, blowjobs.

Notes: I wrote a fanfic like this for Shriv Suurgav and decided I wanted to try the same scenario for Hondo. Cad Bane may be next! Let's make it a series! ;D Shoutout to @allsystemsblue and @downrightembarassing for cheering me on and letting me bounce ideas off them - we all agree Hondo smells fabulous and practices good hygiene.

*This will probably be the last time I can post a fic before moving, but I have another Hondo one shot in the works - stay tuned! ;D

P.S.: I POSTED THIS FROM BATUU (Yes, I waited. I’m literally in line for Smuggler’s Run this very minute and they are talking about Hondo on the comm. 😭😭)

For once, you were bored. Florrum was all fun and games until the ringmaster of this circus abandoned his big top - Hondo Ohnaka had left you stranded by your lonesome in his lair with some dozen Weequay whose names you could not recall. You wandered its dingy corridors, dined on its sumptuous and delicious foods, drank of its rare and expensive beverages, and even sampled the more local fare – the green ooze known as “pirate’s brew” was an acquired taste and your palate preferred lush, full-bodied wine. Luckily for you, there was plenty to go around and then some, yet Ohnaka’s men did not seem all too pleased that you were there.

However, this did not bother you, going so far as to stick your tongue out in disrespect to one burly pirate who would not stop giving you the stink-eye. You were immune, as Hondo had long ago instructed them to give you anything your heart desired, one additional rule being that no harm should come to you as long as you resided within these halls.

Still, that did not mean it was their job to entertain you – that was Hondo’s area of expertise – and currently your jester king had decided it was best to leave you in the dark on his present whereabouts.

No doubt his exploits were dangerous and full of thrills. You were a mite jealous, wondering if one day he might take you along, or, if  on another day he might simply tire of you. He was a fickle lord, and you were his lady  - at least for now, and you were well aware your good fortune might come to a hasty end.

But, in that moment, you found yourself to be missing him. Hondo had been gone two days already and no other being on this dust ball of a planet wanted to give you the time of day.

After imbibing more than your fair share of drink for the evening, you retreated to your quarters – Hondo’s quarters – desiring nothing more than to be held tightly in his arms. You sighed deeply, knowing that you were not to get your way.

As your inebriation caught up to you, you sashayed forward, though the scourge of the galaxy was not here to watch you sway your hips. You fell face first onto the bed for the sake of playing into your own imaginary holodrama; you guessed you must appear to his crew like a forsaken hound waiting for its master to return.

Oh, but that is when you caught his scent, the Weequay’s sweet-smelling pheromones mingling with his cologne. The man was a fop for lack of a better word, his personal hygiene at the top of his priorities list. You were thankful for it; he smelled like dreams made of candy, dark undertones of something more sultry and seductive comingling together with sugar and spice, though you could never put your finger on what exactly it was he liked to wear.

You took a deep inhalation, burying your nose in the blankets and sheets beneath you as you let a dejected noise escape, wishing so badly that it was his crimson coat beneath your groping hands and not his ornate coverlet. Still, even in his absence, his heavenly aroma had roused within you a sleeping giant, one that demanded to be attended to – a sudden, all-encompassing lust that you were afraid would not be quieted lest you do something to ward it off.

But you could not pry yourself free of your plush prison, doomed by the provocative fragrance that had already flooded your nostrils. You flipped your body over to stare at the ceiling, all thoughts replaced by your truant pirate king. His toothy golden smile, the butter smooth intonations of his voice – it was the auditory equivalent of velvet, those sweet nothings he whispered in your ear enough to set your loins on fire.

Just thinking about it had already prompted your body to react as if preparing itself for the man’s admittance. You groaned at your desperation for him, somewhere between annoyed at yourself and in dire need of his patented affections. Instead, you took to hiking up your skirt, your own fingers sliding beneath the hem of your panties -  you were honestly surprised with how wet you already were.

You cursed his name as your writhed gently atop his luxurious bed, not bothering to even lock the door, though you were sure no one would dare disturb you - not that they cared to, anyway; you were positive the rest of Hondo’s men preferred it when you kept to yourself.

You gently massaged your clit, taking your time with yourself, mind focused on the idea of Hondo mounting you, his cock so unbelievably flawless you wished he was there to ram it inside you. He would do anything you asked; he would give it to you any way you might be keen to try, for Ohnaka was not one to skimp on lovemaking as he liked to call it.

You giggled to yourself before it turned into a moan; you were so entranced with your daydreaming that you did not hear the door slide open or the act of your beloved sitting himself down in a chair that was located just adjacent to the bed. Had you noticed, you would have seen the grin etched onto his striated face, Hondo settling in by way of a leg tossed casually over one of the chair’s two arms.

With eyes closed, you bit into your lip, turning your head in your self-sought pleasure to make yourself more comfortable. As you opened them once more you gasped, though you made no other sudden movements, having been caught red-handed by the scoundrel as he carefully scrutinized you with slanted, stormy greys.

“Please, continue,” he stated nonchalantly, though his mood was difficult to determine by his tone.

With your mouth open in shock, you simply stared at him; that was his cue to lean ever so slightly forward, Hondo’s eyes gleaming from beneath rectangular cuts of transparisteel as the grin he wore coiled into something a tad more lascivious.

“What are you tinking about?” he questioned, quickly followed by another query. “Es et me?” Then, he answered himself on the next beat, even as you continued to gaze straight through his goggles into slatey irises. “Of course et es.”

You moved to rise, barely lifting your neck before Hondo interjected a command: “Ap-ap-ap! Stay right dere, my dear. You must finish what you started.”

You gave him your best pout, but he was not convinced to interfere, motioning with a dismissive wave of one hand for you to proceed with touching yourself as he stayed seated before you. Observing that you chose to remain immobile, he had an idea.

“Let me add some reality tu dis fantasy of yours,” he quipped, rising to turn on some music that he favored.

The man began to dance, removing his signature coat one sleeve at a time for it to be tossed haphazardly onto the back of his chair. It was obvious he was making a show of it, putting no real effort into the act of being seductive, though his hands traveled the expanse of his own torso, waist, and hips before he sillily flipped his braids over the edges of his shoulders.

You couldn’t help but to laugh as you kept laying there, Hondo halting his performance abruptly to press a hand to the center of his chest. He scoffed, asking you something in a tone indicative of offense, yet you were sure he was only kidding: “You dare laugh at me? Am I not sexy tu you?”

Your giggling paused, Hondo walking away from you and back toward the seat he had vacated earlier. “Den you entertain me,” he said with finality.

Your lips trembled; he was always so hard to read, the pirate’s true nature still a mystery to you. Presently, you kept your gaze trained on the man as you cried a pathetic sound of longing. He was not impressed, that one leg kicking itself back up as he idly stroked the frills along his jowls.

“Come, my love,” he encouraged you with a sudden change in his disposition, his somewhat confusing demeanor melting away as it was replaced with something softer and more genteel. “Touch yourself for Hondo.”

That was all it took, at once your body’s arousal rekindling as you began to fondle the little nub between your legs.

“Yes, yes, just like dat, little one,” he complimented, his words urging you to refocus your attention.

He watched you for a time, Hondo’s own carnality easily being activated by the study of just how you chose to caress your little cluster of nerve-endings; they were housed between flower petals of flesh and blood, the pirate beginning to feel a twitch down below his beltline.

“Now, imagine my fingers gently exploring de curve of your waist, de … soft tissue of your breasts, hm? Maybe my tongue would like tu explore as well, ah?” he crooned, his voice low and licentious.

The pirate was deliberately working you, even as his own hand came to rest against the outside of his trousers. His cock jumped at the first sign of acknowledgement, as if just as greedy as the minx upon his bed to be stroked and coddled, which was not out of the realm of possibility.

You quivered on his lavish sheets, the fodder with which he was feeding your depravity effortlessly invading your mind’s eye. How you wished he would just shut up and actually touch you, yet you stopped yourself from voicing your sentiments out loud.

“Maybe et would like tu work at suckling dose exquisite tits,” he mused. “Or perhaps et would like tu very, very slowly invade your mouth for a most warm and wet kiss.” He punctuated the last word of his sentence just so, his statement having a questioning lilt, as if he were also curious what he might do should he allow himself access to your pleasing form.

“Hm, yes-” he started, his tone turning a shade darker, “-et might swirl and flitter with yours, plunging far, far down your throat, so deep dat you will never forget de feeling.”

His teasing sent shivers up your arms and down your legs, radiating outward from your core as you wriggled like a pinned insect among folds of deluxe bedding, your body aching for release.

You were so lost in his dirty talk that you failed to notice Hondo unbuckling his belt; it was emblazed with the symbol of his gang, though for now it lay slack to either side as he carefully unbuttoned his trousers to remove his cock from its cloth imprisonment.

“Ah, but remember, I will not be satisfied with just. one. taste,” Hondo reminded you, his long, ring-bedecked fingers beginning to caress the length of his prick as he settled more snugly in his seat.

“I would trade en lips above for lips below,” he whispered throatily, his words a deep rumbling in his chest. The pirate began seeking his own high, eyelids drifting to half-mast as he leisurely thumbed the head of his hardened cock.

Your teeth returned to tug at plump flesh as you ever so slightly quickened your pace, the increasing friction of your fingertips gliding vertically over your throbbing bud causing you to expel a pitiful mewl. You looked over to your king, at once whining your disapproval – you wanted to be the one handling his cock.

Still, the sight only aroused you further, but not as much as the next few utterances that passed beyond the witty thief’s gilded teeth.

“My tongue tracing de folds of your cunt - and ah - you are already so wet, aren’t you?” he asked, though he had not expected any sort of answer from you.

You gave him one anyway, breathing out an airy “yes” which he ignored, but a discerning eye could see the hint of a smirk smugly twitching at the corner of his thin-lipped mouth.

“Et sweeps across your slit, delving inside you. Maybe et tickles, but ah, et feels so good.” He placed his hand more succinctly around his girth, beginning to pump himself by way of an enclosed fist, Hondo deciding to take part in this daydream to the fullest extent.

“Mm, but I pay de most attention tu de little button dat resides at de tippy-tip-top. Dat es your favorite part,” he mused, the visual aid of him eating you out causing you to whine in yearning as you fretted all by your lonesome on his bed.

“I would flick-flick-flick your clit with de utmost precision and care,” he assured you, “lapping up every. bit. of pleasure you so graciously proffer me.” He hummed to himself for a moment, relishing the perfect speed at which he had taken to addressing his own needs.

“Den I would suck et between my lips, continuing tu dine on you as if you were a delicious meal I must consume. And my dear, you are,” he confirmed, as if there had ever been any doubt.

You moaned again as you were close to the brink, your constant rubbing in addition to Hondo’s narration of your masturbation session nearly having worked its magic. You kept your gaze trained on the man and his decidedly pretty dick, pining for it to be snug within your walls. It was as if the scoundrel read your mind, picking up his tale where your imagination had left off.

“Now dat you are so very ready for me, darling, I would take de plunge. Oh, and you take et, so, so well. Every inch es so satisfying, hm?” He subsequently snickered, peering at you from across the way with drowsy eyes.

“Your desire for me es practically palpable, little bird,” he announced despite it being obvious, yet your thoughts did not wander far from the imagery he had placed inside your head even as he playfully derided you.

Hondo picked up his tempo, palming the full breadth of his cock as he envisioned himself steeping his stout prick in and out of you, your depths warm and slippery with your excess.

You had sulkily frowned in agreement, your breath quickening as you approached the edge of your orgasm. Nearly there, your hips gently bucked beneath the soft fabric of your dress, your heart anxious for the pirate to stop narrating and start fucking you until you couldn’t walk straight.

Instead, you were left to your own devices, Hondo apparently close as well as his storytelling capabilities were dwindling, though he still had sense and wits enough about him to weave the next bit of his risqué yarn.

“So slow at first, just a steady en and out, like de ebb and flow of an ocean on some distant, watery planet.” 

“Mmn, mhmm,” was all you had the capacity to say in return.

“I hit all de right angles, for I always do. And you know dis,” he confirmed. “Back and forth, deeper and longer strokes, all de while my deft fingers massage your pretty pearl.”

He beamed at you, his smile brighter than the highly charged particles dispelled at lightspeed off the backs of ion engines, though you were only half cognizant by now of your surroundings.

“And den,” he added simply, “you will cum for me.”

The low notes spoken in that deep baritone, the glint in his glacial grey eyes behind his ever present goggles – you unraveled at the seams as Hondo praised your obedience to his surprisingly well-timed command.

“What a good girl you are,” he concluded.

Delectable mewls escaped your lips in intervals, the air stored inside your lungs expelled in spurts along with them; your hips gyrated gingerly in place of their own volition as you rode the wave of pleasure to its end.

Hondo all the while studied you as he unabashedly continued to guide himself toward the finish line, using the beautiful visual before him to assist him in this process. Then, the Weequay hummed once more; it was a little melody you did not recognize and meant for no one but himself.

You relaxed for all but ten seconds, feeling your own body lose its tension as the breathing of your lover increased its rapidity and fervor; he was about to climax — you refused to let him, not without your aid — you would be damned if you didn’t have your way.

He had his, after all.

You sat up straight, gathering the edges of your skirt so as not to trip as you launched yourself theatrically forward. You tumbled purposefully onto your knees, though making an effort not to bruise yourself, the pirate’s askant eyes expanding before instantaneously contracting. Gold teeth were exposed as he eagerly watched you collect his cock, his upper lip curling outward to add a smidge of something villainous to his expression.

Oh, but it quickly faded from his handsome face as you imbibed his member to the base of its shaft, your tongue running semicircles around raised ribs before you puckered your cheeks to suck greedily to your heart’s content. You sighed languorously at the feeling of it brushing against the back of your throat, murmuring a happy sound as you knew he would not last long.

Hondo’s breath hitched in his lungs before he lifted one hand to fiddle with your hair, mind clouded with buzzing thoughts as he tried to get a handle on his speech.

“So eager,” he muttered, tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek with the back of his index finger. Thick quadriceps tightened, overall the Weequay’s muscles clenching before your mouth finally received the prize it sought.

Hondo’s body slowly unwound itself, decompressing with every pump of semen that shot to the back of your throat, lithe digits remaining to lovingly pet your locks as he gazed down into your eyes — you were staring up at him as you guzzled every last drop he had to give, your muscles working overtime to usher his ejaculate down into your belly for safekeeping.

“And so very thirsty,” he purred, dick still sporadically lurching as you drained him dry. He was not one to tap out, but you were capable of detecting when the man was spent. You skimmed the head of his cock with your tongue for good measure, licking up any that had managed to dribble down.

“You. are. magnificent,” Hondo extolled, failing at first to regain his equilibrium. However, he was not exactly in a hurry, more than willing to sit here a while longer than anticipated.

“You left me,” you puled, kissing the mushroom tip of his alien phallus before you laid it to rest against his spreadeagled thighs. You kissed those, too, fingers traveling over what felt like solid rock, pouting as the pirate gently lifted up both your hands to cradle between his own.

“And for good reason!” Hondo declared with renewed vigor, planting his lips against the center of your palm. Then, he released you, moving to adjust his genitals and to refasten his pants.

“Come, let me tell you a story over a proper drink-” he chuckled, “-see if we can curtail dat insatiable thirst of yours, my dear.”

You accepted his invitation, more than thrilled to keep him company, and, if you played your cards right, you were sure you could convince him for another round – drinks or otherwise.

-----

Reblogs / comments / likes appreciated!

Masterlist

Hondo masterlist

#Hondo Ohnaka #Hondo Ohnaka x Reader #Hondo Ohnaka x You #Hondo #Star Wars #Fanfiction #My writing #one shot #reader request #weequay #pirates #TCW #Clone Wars

[stardust-selfships]

Welcome to my SELF SHIPPING blog!

I'm mod 🏁 and I write imagines and self shipping stuff! Please read this entire post to know what's up, and what I can and cannot do!

This blog is space, arcade, and nostalgia themed!

DNI / Don'ts:

Pretty basic, the normal DNI criteria

No pr*shipping please

Do not ask for ships of two characters from the same source, this blog is for self shipping/self inserts only!

No NSFT, I am still a minor (17)! This may update in the future if I feel comfortable doing it

Please ask if I write for a character that isn't on the list, do not assume I will write for them

Do's:

Imagines, small write ups/fan fictions, x readers

AFAB/AMAB readers (Please specify!)

All body types, nationalities, disabilities, etc. Everyone is welcome here!

Slightly suggestive imagines (NOT NSFT, just slight suggestive content)

Interracial/species ships (mobian x human, etc) (you guys are super valid!!!)

Poly ships involving more than one character

Sexuality/gender headcanons

Hurt/comfort, horror, romantic, any love trope (enemies to lovers, etc)

Vent/heavy topic write-ups (like SH comfort head canons and things like that)

FANDOMS:

Sonic the hedgehog

Sonic the hedgehog (all versions!) (This includes movie sonic and ugly sonic as well! Love those guys)

Shadow the hedgehog

Silver the hedgehog

Amy rose

Dr. Eggman (movie, boomverse, games canon)

Scourge (anti sonic or scourge)

Knuckles the echidna

Boom!tails (no NSFT)

Miles "tails" prower (platonic only)

Fleetway super sonic

Toy story

Sheriff Woody pride

Buzz Lightyear (toy version only, sorry!)

Andy Davis (teen/adult only)

Child's play

Chucky/Charles Lee ray (human, doll, or Nica!Chucky)

Tiffany Valentine (human or doll)

Glen/da (doll only, and platonic only!)

Andy Barclay (adult only)

Steven Universe

Steven Universe (teen/young adult Steven ONLY)

Spinel (reset or normal)

Peridot

Pearl (pink, CG pearl)

Pink diamond

White diamond

Rose quartz

Rainbow quartz (1.0/2.0)

Jasper

Lapis lazuli

Invader ZIM

Invader ZIM

GIR (PLATONIC ONLY)

Dib membrane

Professor membrane

(TAK is a huge maybe, idk if I'll write for her or not)

Super mario

Super "jump man" Mario (main games version)

Bowser (main games version)

My little pony

Pinkie pie

Twilight sparkle

Rarity

King sombra

Queen chrysalis

Trixie lulamoon

Sunset shimmer

Starlight glimmer

Rainbow dash

Sonic.exe

Sonic.exe (2011)

Xenophanes

Lord X

Tails doll (platonic)

FATAL ERROR

Needlem0use VHS

Sarah Henderson (human, spirit, or sonic body)

Luther artwright (human (young adult or adult), spirit, or tails body)

Friday night funkin' and alike fandoms

Senpai

Boyfriend

Girlfriend

Pico

Lemon monster

Tankman/captain

Sarvante

Ruv

Selever (no NSFT)

Skid and pump (spacefatcat's adult versions, the kid versions are platonic ONLY!)

Roy (from spooky month, no NSFT)

I will probably add more to the list but yeah!

Have fun!

#»DNI list #»Introductory #toy story x reader #sonic x reader #childs play x reader #sonic.exe x reader #steven Universe x reader #invader zim x reader #selfshipping #self shipping #self shipping community #self shipping positivity #x reader #imagines #imagine

[p-antomime]

favorite ghost.

𖦹 minors don’t interact. ┊ wc: 1,1K.

𖦹 content: service dom!kakucho, unprotected sex, age gap, breeding k!nk, peccatophilia, nicknames, [implied] overstimulation, [implied?] sacrilege, pinning, religious themes, corruption k!nk, dark content.

𖦹 pairings: priest!hitto kakucho x church girl!fem!reader.

ᥫ᭡. request. ┊ taglist! ┊ tokyo rev. masterlist!

Kakucho was her favorite ghost. Actually, his fingers were. Ghost by the meaning of having a destructive power big enough to scare her like a lamb, not in the spectral.

And guilt was Kakucho's favorite ghost. Not guilt for corrupting the purest soul in the church, not guilt for pulling you so far away from heaven that you could feel the scourges of the flames of hell tickling your body every single time he, your most respected priest, slid his lips from your neck to lower parts of your body, not guilt for inadvertently breaking the very celibacy he swore when he was younger to defend with all his soul. And, yes, guilt for not reaching for your body sooner, in days gone by.

At first, he thought it was just a very well articulated and planned temptation by the Devil, since it was not the last nor the first time he had been insanely attracted to a woman he theoretically could not have even in his wettest dreams. But, it was different when his mind somehow fell on you.

You were so goddamn young. He even remembered being a little shocked when your mother asked him to put you in one of the Sunday school teacher's classes because, although he was a guy who more than 100% supported evangelizing young people as soon as possible, you didn't seem to know that well how to get the word of the Lord across – and then he discovered that you just needed time and coordination to be great at talking to kids and teenagers who came to church.

In the beginning, he thought that the only thing he felt for you was something like divine admiration. Like the Apple and Eve, you were the sin he was most tempted to commit, but this eventual situation was curbed by all the times he saw you sitting in one of the first rows of pews in the church listening to the mass and paying attention with those pretty little dresses that had an embroidery that went all the way to your knee and made him imagine what it would be like to slide his hand under them and see you trying to close legs before he reached your untouched pussy.

Untouched up to the moment he asked you to help him carry some catechism books from one room to the other with the excuse that "it’d be faster if he had someone helping him”. And, in reality, what was quick was Kakucho's sequence of actions in pressing you against the wall with his hands on your waist and grabbing your lips in a desperate act of trying to relieve his hard-on.

His cock was getting hard just imagining your naked body and how your arms, breasts, thighs and cheeks would feel so soft when touched. In fact, they were extremely soft, now Kakucho knew this as he slid his fingers all over your body while standing behind you going in and out of your pussy that he had access to right after he pushed up your dress and managed to pump his fingers a few times against your gummy walls.

He said he needed your help with something, you were willing to help him with anything, but when he spread your legs apart and ghosted his fingers down the inner side of your thighs, you felt yourself twitching trying to pull away.

"Father, what are you doing? You cannot... it, do it", you had spoken in a breathless voice after having several kisses stolen by Kakucho.

"I'm doing what God told me to, His plan for both of us", his index finger indicated you and he, "that's it, angel, His plan is for me to finish what you started", his lips fell on your neck and you felt practically all the tension in your body head towards the middle of your legs, the fabric of your panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds; you felt as if you were about to explode and your head even became a little dizzy.

"What did I start? I don't unders–", Kakucho placed his index finger over your lips in a gentle way of putting you on.

"You don't need to understand, you just need to feel good", he whispered sliding his hands to the middle of your legs again, "Feel good ‘cause if you, God's most beautiful little lamb, are happy, He also is.”

'Need to feel good'. That was stuck in your mind for all the long minutes that Kakucho used to make you cum on his tongue and teach you how to use your mouth properly to be able to satisfy the desires of a man like him. You were inexperienced, but even so, your worst was still the best for him. And if you needed to feel good, that goal had been achieved as soon as the most respected priest in your church slid into your pussy, balls deep inside you, and began pounding inside it with a force you didn't know he had.

The wet sounds coming from between your legs and Kakucho's moans close to your ear rivaled the sublime noise of the clerical chants, your vision blurred and eyes rolling up unable to focus any longer on the large Cross that stood in the center of that isolated room inside the church, the bottom of your belly feeling that knot of pressure that he had told you was normal, that would always appear when he was busy cleansing your body of sins.

"F-Father, 'm feeling ngh you, you inside me throbbing and–", a little deeper thrust from him made you see little stars and bite your lips to keep from moaning so loudly, your head falling back and leaning on his shoulder as Kakucho was busy chasing his own climax.

He knows what He wants. Kakucho needs to impregnate you, to ruin your reputation as the innocent church girl everyone loves, you should be loved just by him and him only, God put you in his path so he would have someone to be holy with together and be punished for sins together.

"Angel, d'you ever got to feel someone...", his voice sounded almost shaky, his thoughts completely scrambled as his climax seemed closer and closer to being reached, "Filling you up completely?"

"You'd be my first, Father"

Your whispered voice was the last thread of sanity and penance he needed to let the head fall back and his cum start gushing against your walls incessantly, making you feel every vein in him throbbing and roll your eyes once again as your insides became more and more stuffed and sticky.

More than his favorite ghost, you were now his favorite sin.

ㅤ🏷 tagging: @festive @wakaslut @strawberrysanzu @bontensucker @wakasa-wifey @manjiroscum @inu1gf @keisaint @saaraunicorn @ranilingus @dokidokimanji @mizurimirai @sleepy3 @zuuki @qudvxnkanx @manjiroscum @hirwishin @ushitoshiii @bontens-cum-slut @h-shibas @seashanks @binglebonglerightonthemoney @horny-inarizaki-stan @mrsvaleska @semisgroupie @satmitsuplanet @lordbugs @aces-high .

#kakucho smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #hitto kakucho x reader #kakucho x y/n #kakucho x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #cw dark content #cw religious themes #is it going to show up in the tags? who knows! lets see 🙄

[bittersweetblasphemy]

Long Live the Queen [male insectoid alien/ambiguous gender human reader]

🛑18+ Content - Minors DNI🛑

Rating: Explicit🔥 | Pairing(s): M/X | Warnings : ❤️ None

Contains: Implied/Offscreen Violence, Impregnation, Orgasm Control, Oviposition, Penetrative Sex, Praise Kink, Reversed Power Dynamics

Description: You are one of the most legendary pirate lords to plunder the trade routes of the greatest civilizations in the galaxy. Your ruthlessness and dangerous tactics earn you both fear and admiration. So when you run afoul of one of the most feared scourges in the known cosmos, it's not so much a surprise as an inevitability. The surprise is that you aren't unwillingly swept off to be the brood queen for uncountable generations of insatiable hive creatures. You're asked.

Author's Note: This is my first time posting anything like this, and it's a lot shorter than I normally write. I wrote this as a gift for @wired-for-weird bc they mentioned they don't see a lot of a dynamic they liked, and as a thank you for the hype they've been giving my bigger WIP. Oviposition isn't normally my thing, but I come across it often enough that I hope I was able to do it justice!

Word Count: 2963

When mankind first set out into the stars, none could have imagined the intelligent species they would come to know. Trade with some, war with others, harmonious intermingling for a beautiful few. But the Ichneumon were the insidious horror that nobody wanted to imagine could truly exist.

Solar system dominating hives dotted the cosmos, creating ever-expanding dead zones as they spread out. Hunting. Consuming. The only thing that really kept them in check was that each colony was hostile to the next, and they had a habit of wiping each other out when they got too close to each other.

But vicious insatiable hoards weren’t what made them uniquely abhorrent. What tended to horrify the tender sensibilities of most races was their reproductive cycle.

Because, of course, “Ichneumon” is not what they called themselves. Nobody really bothered to ask them, and intelligent species across the galaxy each had their own names for them. Ichneumon was only the name humans had given them after a family of parasitoid wasps back on earth. How apt.

The Ichneumon were not a species that could reproduce without a host, though it could make use of most carbon and silica-based life forms. As a result, no two colonies were exactly the same, taking some traits from their host Queens (a gender irrelevant title). Once a colony of Ichneumon was well established enough, they would begin producing drones. A hardy class, capable of surviving for astonishingly long in the vacuum of space, and excellent mimics. All for the express purpose of locating a new Queen, willing or unwilling as they may be.

If they happened to be the same species as the original host, they would bring them to their birth colony to continue their life cycle. If they were something new, they would take them to a new system, preferably as far from other intelligent life as they could, and found a new one.

It just so happened it was Humans they liked best. Not as hardy as the Myr or as individually intelligent as the Audjin, but a highly adaptable and social species. The hive mentality grafted well to their natural altruism and advanced communication skills.

In your opinion, it was something over-dramatized. Like some pre-Stellar Revolution horror film that people used to watch on boxy screens for a fraction of a credit. They were just some alien race, carrying out their tradition, and keeping their race alive. Like you carried on the tradition of the intrepid human spirit, adventure, comradery, and the pursuit of individual freedom. You, one of the most feared pirate lords to patrol the Arurian Trade route.

Some called you brave, others called you mad for skirting dead zones and darting through no-man’s-lands with the reckless abandon you did. But you never pulled the same trick twice, and it made you all rich.

So when your trusted first mate turned out to be an Ichneumon drone, it wasn’t so much a surprise as it was an inevitability.

The surprise was that he asked you.

In answer, you asked for time. It was stalling and nothing more. You weren’t actually going to consider this. You were just waiting for a chance to get away from him, kill him, dump him in hostile territory so someone with bigger guns could do the hard work for you. But he took you at your word. He gave you time.

But eventually, he asked again, almost sheepishly, if you had thought about it. You told him your answer was no. You were close enough to the Trejjit militarized zone if he didn’t like it. He looked disappointed, but he didn’t try anything. He never asked again.

For three years he remained your loyal first mate. And you never told anyone what he was. You probably should have, but you didn’t. He didn’t reach this position without good reason, after all. Maybe for a while you doubted it all, worrying it had all been a ruse. But nothing changed in the end. The reasons he had first earned your trust stayed the same. He was your friend, just like he had always been.

Things went back to normal for a while. You talked in private. You shared drinks. He saved your ass. You saved his. You celebrated with him on a good day and shared a quiet smoke with him on the bad.

You weren’t exactly sure when that changed, just that after a raid gone very wrong you were so relieved to see him that you kissed him. You both chalked it up to an emotionally tense day. It wouldn’t be the last time, though.

Eventually, you got to see what he really looked like, and he really was a beautiful creature. An iridescent sapphire blue that he got from whatever host species he was bred from with little highlights of yellow gold lining the joints of his chitinous hide. Not to mention the prettiest set of black diaphanous wings you ever saw. His mouth was a little different, and he had these little feathery twin tongues, but you made it work.

It wasn’t too long after that you had sex with him for the first time. It was a little awkward, you had similar parts in similar places, but you felt the need to ask that he not leave anything he shouldn’t behind. He insisted he could control it, and a quick med scan the next morning proved that to be true. No unwanted eggs where there shouldn’t be. You weren’t sure why you felt disappointed by that.

None of that changed that it was good. Probably the best you’d had in a long time. Alright, a very long time. He was an attentive lover. His organ was ever so slightly prehensile, good for reaching your sweet spot without fail. The rubbery gripping pads on his digits were velvety smooth when wet. His twin tongues were something between heaven and complete torture that he regularly used to clean up his spill afterward. You got to see his ovipositor, a long extension from his organ, clearish white in color. The first time you put your tongue to it he convulsed so hard you almost choked. It was worth the laugh even as your tongue was left tingly, warm, and slightly numb.

It became a common occurrence. He was always as gentle or as rough as you needed. You realized how much he loved your praise. A few sweet nothings in his ear could reduce him into a pliable, eager pet to command as you would. You would withhold his orgasm with nothing more than a word, and you could drive him into a begging, pleading mess waiting for your permission. Behind closed doors, his dutiful loyalty became unquestioned devotion. You got used to it, though you never took it for granted.

As the years continued to pass you by, that old first question started to grow on you. It didn’t sound so bad, to tell the truth. You had more than a few ships under your command now. One young captain you took on as your protégé showed incredible promise as your successor, chosen already in case of your untimely demise. Your crew liked them. The getting was good as trade ramped up. More dangerous than ever, but well worth the risks. You could leave now if you wanted, your crew would be well taken care of, legacy written in the stars, you and your progeny set for life.

Progeny. You never thought of family before, not beyond your crew anyway. The idea of a squalling child to care for and worry about for near two decades never appealed to you. It still didn’t, but somewhere along the line you began picturing children. Children that would grow fast and strong, independent of you with each other to rely on. A force to be reckoned with. It was a lovely fantasy. And for a while, that’s all it was.

Then you nearly died. One of the trade shipments had a heavier escort than you were expecting. Some Myr got a lucky shot. You spent a week unconscious in the hospital bay. Nobody thought you would make it. Your protégé had handled everything well in your place, but even they were glad when you finally regained consciousness. Eventually, the grumpy doctor onboard let you out and cleared you for administrative duties.

The first thing you did was find your first mate, or rather, he found you. It didn’t matter. Either way, he barely left your side through your entire shift on the bridge.

That night you made love to him. It’s the first time you would have called it that, even though you never said it out loud. You could tell he knew something was different, but he didn’t ask. You couldn’t have explained it if he did.

You spent the following months searching the star maps in secret. There were plenty that would be good, but good wasn’t going to cut it. He almost caught you a couple of times but remained oblivious. You had almost hit the year mark in your search when you found the perfect spot.

Only then did you tell him. He froze in shock so long you worried that you had broken him. Then he cried and you really thought you broke him. But he was overjoyed. You showed him what you found, and his eyes lit up with excitement. You announced your retirement and your “engagement.” Your protégé and their first mate took your places, and the two of you joined in the near three-day-long party that followed. You had so much to celebrate after all.

It was easy enough to cover your tracks, even from your old crew. You’d been doing it for long enough it was second nature at this point. It hurt to hide from them, they did love you and your first mate, but ultimately you didn’t think they would understand.

Now you were finally on the surface of this perfect planet. So far away from established civilizations, but close enough for when the colony would be large enough to need them as a resource. It had a breathable atmosphere, liquid water, as well as edible plant and animal life. Metals in rich veins for developing tools. It was just like your childhood projectorbooks about Earth. Everything the distant readings had promised, with at least two more planets your offspring could use without much altering. That your mate could now walk around as his undisguised self freely was its own reward that was so much better than you imagined. Those wings.

At the moment, you were laid out on your blanket on the beach, soaking in the light from the system’s perfect yellow star. It had been a long morning of hooking up the solar panels and water purifiers. Your mate caught some bird-like creature that was delicious when roasted over a fire. You were comfortable and sated. Well… sated in all ways but one.

Your mate was beside you, patiently waiting where you left him, a gorgeous statue gleaming in the sun. You had him deep in that lovely little dazed state. A little stroking him off. A little denial. A whole mess of praise. And now he was sitting pretty on his knees, patient but occasionally giving little aborted thrusts into the air as the little vibrator you had tucked in his sheath was too low to do more than keep him achingly hard and dripping a steady trail of precum. He saw you looking and gave a high-pitched little whine. You cooed at the sight.

“Alright. Come here, pretty.” You were ready for this.

He crawled over to you, the good pet that he was, and settled himself atop you, nibbling at your throat and jaw, thrusting gently at your hip in a wordless request. You trailed your hand down his front, hushing his whimpered curse as you came to grasp him before slipping lower and pulling the vibrator free. You clicked it higher and ran it up his length. He shuddered beautifully, his organ arching involuntarily against the lovely little device.

“Are you ready, darling?” He nodded frantically into the crook of your neck as you took him in hand again, his little feathery tongues darting out to taste the sweat on your skin and kiss it worshipfully.

You guided him to your entrance, feeling him slip in with an easy frictionless slide that left you sighing with contentment as he moaned in relief.

“Start slow,” you told him as he tentatively began to thrust, “Remember, first you take care of me, and then you can have your fun.” He was good, as always, but even the best-trained pet couldn’t help the trembling of his thighs or the restless way his organ rolled with a sinuous wave inside you. It was hard to keep acting like he was the only one losing his mind here.

“What a good boy you are.” You weren’t sure he heard you as you ran your hands over the breadth of his shoulders and to his back to tease the base of his wings. You wrapped your legs over his hips and crossed your ankles behind his back, pulling him in. “A little faster now.”

That he heard as he picked up the pace. His arms came around your lower back, lifting your bottom half into his lap as those little twitches turned into a rough snapping of his hips. You just about went cross-eyed with pleasure as he drove into you harder and faster, all but out of his mind with need. You could have slowed him down, you had before. But stars above, why would you want to?

You rode the frantic way he drove into you, moaning out your praises. You felt him adjusting his grip just before you felt one of his hands sneak between your bodies to touch you just the way you liked. It didn’t take much more than that to make you orgasm the first time. He fucked you through it, kissing over your skin desperately. You barely caught your breath enough to grant him permission.

“Go on then, pretty boy. You know what to do.” He keened, long and loud as he started to slow and grind deep. You felt a slight shift, a little twinge that made you wince as his ovipositor finally extended, piercing deep. It didn’t last long though, any discomfort you felt quickly melted away into a vaguely pleasurable warmth. He didn’t appear to be in control of the noises he was making anymore, devolving into an incoherent mess with the pleasure that ripped through him so hard his wings buzzed involuntarily.

If you focused hard enough, you could feel the gentle press of eggs sliding up and into you. Little things, smaller than you imagined they would be, though you knew they would get bigger as they incubated. In the meantime, you petted over his head, cooing your praise through his desperate gasping. You blindly groped for the vibrator, flicking it on and sneaking it between you as the sensation of him deep inside you fed quickly into fresh pleasure. And all too soon though you felt the last egg pass without another to follow.

The moment it settled in you, he tensed, coming undone with a strangled shout that you had never heard from him before. His wings beat frantically as he pumped into you as best he could with little rabbity thrusts. Stars burst behind your eyes and you came again, able to do nothing but hang on through the barrage of sensations your brain interpreted as nearly unbearable pleasure.

Eventually, he stilled, and the two of you lay in a stunned, panting daze. With a careful little tug, you felt his ovipositor retract, and he pulled out with a gentle roll and an oversensitive hiss. He kissed down your body, licking the salt from your skin down to your entrance where his soft twin tongues worked to clean you, though you doubted that there would be much dripping out to clean up this time. You twitched, oversensitive, but let him care for you the way he liked, eventually resting his head on the inside of your thigh.

“Was I good?” He asked quietly, sounding more vulnerable than he had in a very long time.

“Very good,” you reassured him, petting over his head with one hand while the other came to rest on your ever so slightly distended belly. Eventually, his hand came up to join yours.

“How many do you think there are?” You asked.

“Five or six. I may have lost count.” You giggled. Five or six sounded good. A solid founding brood, all workers, so they wouldn’t get too big. You’d probably only end up looking a little pregnant by the time they were ready to come out. And once they were raised, you would never really have any reason to do more than eat, sleep, drink, and bask in the sun for the rest of your life. Interrupted only by bouts of mind-blowing sex and birthing the next brood, which your mate promised was not at all unpleasant.

Your mate crawled up beside you, drawing idle little patterns over your belly, tracing over scars, and feeling the little bump he put there. He kissed over your jaw until you finally turned and he captured them in a lovely little kiss.

“Thank you,” he said, “for changing your mind.”

You smiled and kissed him again, saying what you didn’t have the words to say. You had never been so glad to have taken the chance. Retirement was looking like a pretty sweet gig, lightyears away from the glorious pirate lord’s death your younger self once dreamed of.

Long live the Queen.

#oc #nsft #monster fucker #smut #ovipositor #alien #posting before i chicken out #madax posts #madax writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry II

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find a place to hide for the time being.

Note: Got this done quickly and was surprised with myself. Gearing up to go back to work tomorrow. I’ll try to catch up on responses after work and check in with y’all.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You didn’t stop running until the dawn. You didn’t head for the village as you knew that would be the first place the lord and his party would look. You kept to the forest despite the howls and the hoots of unseen creatures. You stopped to bury your cap and apron under an overturned trunk. If it was known that Barnes was searching out a servant, it would be better to be less obvious.

As the horizon turned to a soft amber, you found an overhang and nestled into the small nook. You turned your back to the bitter morning air and tried to sleep. If you kept going, you would only pass out in the open. Your slumber was shallow and fitful. You were stiff as you woke up just after noon and climbed out of the cranny.

You feasted on nuts and berries gathered along your clueless path, eating as the twigs and branches pulled at your skirts. You weren’t sure where you were or where you were going. You could be out of the county or you could be five minutes from the castle. For your luck, you could have just gone in circles.

The second night you found a cave and slept there instead of pressing on through the dark. You were itchy from a brush with poison ivy and your feet throbbed from the endless trek. You got a few hours under your eyelids before you emerged and carried on.

What were you doing? Where were you going? If you did manage to evade the wrathful lord, what then? Knock on the doors of another castle and barter an apron with your fingernails dirty and your face wind burned?

The third night saw your stomach squeezing painfully as you failed to catch a rabbit and drank from a river eagerly. You slept between two broken logs and woke to the sound of hooves. You didn’t move as you listened to the voices. None were familiar and the only prey they spoke of was some doe they sighted moments ago.

“Nolan spooked the creature just behind the hill, my lord, if we hook around the lea, we might catch it by the stream,” a man said.

“I’d rather the stag. He must be close,” a deeper timbre replied, “you and Nolan take your course and I’ll search these grounds for the mate. Whistle if you sight our game.”

“Yes, my lord,” the other responded and the horses cantered away.

You stayed as you were as you heard the remaining man dismount and tramp over the carpet of leaves. You rolled onto your stomach and wriggled away from the noise and kicked yourself out from between the logs. You kept on your knees as you crawled around the other side and headed for the nearest tree.

His footsteps softened and you kept on, hoping your dirty dress helped you blend into the wild. You pushed yourself behind a trunk and pressed your back to the bark. If you sprinted out, he might just think you another frightened creature. If he sought a stag, he would be uninterested.

You nodded and readied for your flight. You took a breath and yelped as suddenly a figure appeared before you.

“I thought I heard a rustle,” the man said as he looked down at you. He was a lord, you could tell by the pin at the nape of his cape, “you look to be lost, my lady.”

“My lord,” you stood and bowed your head, “I only wandered too far. I can find my way back.”

“Way back where?” his hands went to his hips, “you look as if you have been wandering for a time.”

“I only tumbled and mussed myself,” you lied, “my lord, my apologies, I did not realise this forest was noble land.”

“It is easy to break the threshold of the common lands and the noble sprawl. It would be quicker on horseback to reunite you with your home, would it not?”

“I am grateful for such generosity but I would be remiss to accept, I might go on my way and--”

“Where do you hail from, lady?” he squinted.

“The village over yonder,” you pointed away from him, “it was a game and I did go too far.”

“And the village you speak of? What is it’s name?” he asked.

“Ildersin,” you uttered, one of the three nearest villages to the castle you knew.

“Ildersin? That is far and beyond my holdings,” he tilted your head, “one cannot wander there in less than a day so I warn you now to be honest or I would have your tongue out with hot pincers.”

You gulped and looked away from him. He stepped closer and caught your wrist.

“I could chase you down easy on my horse’s back, trample you into the mud, so answer me now or I will take you to the stocks,” he snarled.

“My father,” you said, “my father, he does beat me and I waited until he was abed to leave but I lost the bundle I did prepare for the escape. You see, my spare clothing and my food… I only did want to be upon my own and toil for one who does not lash me.”

He breathed through his nostrils as his thumb brushed the stitching along your cuff. He dropped your arm and his jaw ticked. His blond lashes flicked and he considered you and the dirt as one.

“You seek work?” he asked, “and asylum from your violent father?”

“Yes, my lord, er,” you blinked innocently, “I know not where I’ve found myself but I would serve you loyal if you would keep me from the stocks.”

“You can hold a broom? Empty a pot?” he asked.

“I can,” you assured, “my lord.”

“You have good manners for a farm maid,” he mused, “I might find a place for you in my kitchens.”

“My lord? You might direct me to the nearest village so I might find labour there, instead, I would not presume to further tax--”

“My castle is big enough, another hand would be more help than a burden,” he stepped back and waved you around the tree, “I will accompany you back to my keep and return to fetch my men… you look to have been out here long enough.”

“Truly, my lord, I--” you saw his impatience in the vein along his forehead and bowed your head, “I am most grateful.”

“Let us be off or my men might be lost without me,” he said.

He lifted you onto his horse and climbed up behind you. You’d never been astride with a man against you, it was awkward and crowded. He snapped the reins and the horse fell into step. He steered it away from your hiding place.

“Might I ask where I am, my lord?” you ventured.

“This is Astrens,” his voice rumbled through you, “And I am its lord, Duke Steven Rogers.”

Your heart sank as you recognised his name and your mistake. He wasn’t easily known with his beard, newly grown since his last visit to the Lord Barnes’ hold. He was of the few who were granted company with the miserly lord of the castle but there was a chance yet he did not know you. You were after all, only a servant.

🏰

Lord Rogers handed you over to his steward. You were reassured as you were given a cap, apron, and a new dress. You washed out of a basin and reported for your new duties.

It might just be far enough away that you wouldn’t have to worry about Barnes. He never went far from his estate and Astrens was out of the way of the capital. Even if it didn’t work, it gave you time to plot a real departure.

You were sent to the laundries to sweat over boiling cauldrons as you stirred the linens with a large stick. The steams seeped through your clothing and left you out of breath as you wrung out the sheets. You hung them outside along the line and helped beat out the old woven rugs.

After nights in the forest, your first day felt far from a return to normalcy. You were in a new place, you had new duties, and you didn’t know anyone in the castle. You’d worked in Lord Barnes’ manor since his father was still alive and you were only a kid. It was only a few years before Barnes took over but you remember it being much easy to ingratiate yourself to the staff.

You were shuffled onto a feather mattress in the servants’ quarters with three others. The snoring, snorting, and coughing kept you awake and you missed the chirp of crickets and scratching of critters. You woke more tired than any night spent among the trees and went back to the laundries.

Your days took on this pattern, sleep, eat, work, and do it all over again. You were forgotten among the other servants and it really seemed like you might just be able to hide among them forever. 

Nearly a week into your time as Astrens and the castle blustered to a storm. All the drapes were to be taken down, beat, and washed, and all beds were to be stripped and redressed. Servants littered the corridors scrubbing, sweeping, and running from chamber to chamber. When you asked what the occasion was, the response was vague. Lord Rogers is hosting a guest.

You weren’t used to the rush. Visitors were rare at the other castle and rarely were they accommodated so wholly. If they had a place to rest their head and fill their stomach, Barnes felt they could not gripe. Even his greetings were not required on such an occasion.

You helped with the scourging and scouring of the linens and the drapes. You worked so hard you didn’t even have the energy to gulp down the lumpy stew allotted to the servants. You fell into the heap of your bedmates into dreams laced with your own snores. You dreamt of the forest and the sound of hooves.

Another early morning and the gears began to grind once more. Darcy sent you away from the laundries to help refresh the rushes in the entrance hall with several others. You scattered herbs over the grand carpet that displayed scenes of hunting through the seasons. 

You wondered if perhaps Rogers was to be betrothed at last, the news of his first wife’s passing had sent many into gossip even before she was buried. Or maybe the king would make progress to the ancient grounds of the historic castle. You let your mind wander as your body was led by habit.

You heard the rolling of the carriage and the clip clop of horses. You followed several other servants as the tall doors were opened and you peered out into the yard at the party. You backed away as Lord Rogers emerged from the archway that led to the spiraling stairs and crossed the carpet. You could hardly hide your curiosity as you reluctantly followed the other servants. It would be unseemly to remain as Rogers welcomed his guests.

“James!” Rogers’ voice boomed and you stopped just outside the chamber as you looked down the stairs that led to the servants quarters, “it has been too long.”

“It has,” Lord Barnes’ responded and your eyes went wide as Deandra hissed for you to go. You couldn’t move as you listened and she abandoned you with a flutter of her fingers, “you know my father only ever called me James.”

“Ah, Buck, I’m kidding,” Rogers chuckled, “it is a pleasure to have you drag yourself from your hermitage.”

“You would make me regret it already,” the other lord chirped, “but the king did request my presence at the tournament and he did not allow for refusal. I’d prefer to travel with a friend, my only friend.”

“Oh, the sentiment, Lord Barnes,” Rogers preened dryly.

“I don’t know if I should be able to wait to tussle until the tourney,” Barnes jibed, “oh, this old place, has it been so long?”

You shoved yourself away from the door and clamoured down the stairs. You nearly tumbled down the last few and caught yourself on the wall. You sidled past Agnes and towards the laundries. Harriet called after you as you passed and rushed out the doors past the muddy puddles of dirty water and hanging sheets.

The grass was slick beneath your shoes as you raced for the stables. You only needed to hide there for a time and sneak out before they closed the gates. You didn’t make it past the first stall before you heard the steel whine. You turned as Lester greeted you with the tip of his sword.

“The master has been searching for you,” the toothy guard smirked, “oh and what a reward I shall have for bringing him a prize of his own.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #hue and cry #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #miniseries #medieval au #au #medieval!au #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

#sophies500 #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #bishop heahmund #heahmund #bishop heahmund x reader #heahmund x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #vikings imagine #bishop heahmund imagine #mzwrites

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Catelyn IV (Chapter 18)

So close, she thought. Beneath the linen bandages, her fingers still throbbed where the dagger had bitten. The pain was her scourge, Catelyn felt, lest she forget. She could not bend the last two fingers on her left hand, and the others would never again be dexterous.

I guarantee I’ll find a similar description of Jon’s hand in an upcoming chapter.

+.+

His father had died several years before, so he was Lord Baelish now, yet still they called him Littlefinger. Her brother Edmure had given him that name, long ago at Riverrun.

How much do I love that Edmure gave him the name he hates?

+.+

Ser Rodrik cleared his throat. "Lord Baelish once, ah …" His thought trailed off uncertainly in search of the polite word.

Can you imagine the horror of people believing you gave your virginity to Littlefinger? This might be the most devastating thing Catelyn has ever had to endure.

+.+

He was always clever, even as a boy, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise.

There’s the set-up.

+.+

Bran’s father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. - Bran I, AGOT

x

When it was announced that I was to wed Brandon Stark, Petyr challenged for the right to my hand. It was madness. Brandon was twenty, Petyr scarcely fifteen.

x

He had a little pointed chin beard now, and threads of silver in his dark hair, though he was still shy of thirty.

+.+

Aegon the Conqueror had commanded it built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed.    

Jesus. Can we keep Targaryen history and lore out of the good chapters please? It’s ruining my vibes. 

+.+

The man who stepped through the door was plump, perfumed, powdered, and as hairless as an egg.

Perfumed seneschal!

+.+

She trusted Littlefinger only a little, and Varys not at all.

Catelyn, why did you ignore your instincts? :(

+.+

"Yours?" It made no sense. Petyr had not been at Winterfell.         

"Until the tourney on Prince Joffrey's name day," he said, crossing the room to wrench the dagger from the wood. "I backed Ser Jaime in the jousting, along with half the court." Petyr's sheepish grin made him look half a boy again. "When Loras Tyrell unhorsed him, many of us became a trifle poorer. Ser Jaime lost a hundred golden dragons, the queen lost an emerald pendant, and I lost my knife. Her Grace got the emerald back, but the winner kept the rest."                 

"Who?" Catelyn demanded, her mouth dry with fear. Her fingers ached with remembered pain.

"The Imp," said Littlefinger as Lord Varys watched her face. "Tyrion Lannister."    

Nice, George. I love that he’s already provided enough information to the reader to question this story.

During all the terrible long years of his childhood, only Jaime had ever shown him the smallest measure of affection or respect - Tyrion I, AGOT

Tyrion would never bet against his brother.

"I used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. At other times, my sister." - Tyrion II, AGOT

Tyrion hates Cersei.

By now Stark was no doubt regretting his chivalrous impulse. Perhaps he had learned a lesson. The Lannisters never declined, graciously or otherwise. The Lannisters took what was offered. - Tyrion II, AGOT

The Lannisters take. Cersei, of all people, would never get that emerald back.

Littlefinger you are very sloppy, and the only reason you got away with it is because Varys let you.

Final thoughts:

It’s not especially noteworthy, because all POVs do it, but I’m always fascinated by Catelyn and Sansa switching back and forth between calling him Littlefinger and Petyr in their internal monologue.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #agot #catelyn iv

[justalittletomato]

Maul X Reader Drabble

Shockingly not about dad!Maul! 

This little drabble is more of a start for the relationship of Maul and the reader, it will be a bit angsty mostly as Maul can’t quite grasp his emotions and the Reader is trying her best not to let her feelings be known. 

Some quick backstory to help: Reader is Mandalorian, and now works alongside the brother’s. She tends to know more than expected for someone with her status and this has saved her again and again and now here she is working with some Sith. 

Lingering Night 

The knock on the door was a welcome change from the endless text before him however he knew Savage was not up at this hour and Almec was sure to stay clear of being alone with Maul., therefore the only person could be…

“It’s me, sir. “ Y/N’s voice called out,

“I brought some data you might want to review for the council meetings, I can just leave them outside if you’d like.”

There was a shuffle and soft curse from her. Maul pulled away from the desk and stood stretching after too many hours reading endless contracts and negotiations  that would likely be revised and altered by Almec then by Y/N once again, “Enter , Y/N” The young woman poked her head in, “I just wanted to…” her face reddened and she pulled back out from the door stammering, “Sir do you want me to wait a bit longer so you can dress?”

Sometime during his work he had forgone his tunic, leaving the crimson skin and black markings of his torso bare, Y/N reaction was amusing to say the least.

“There’s no need, come in” Again a soft curse under her breath, Y/N slowly crept into the room, looking straight at his face trying her best to minimize the tale tell blush on her cheeks. Even at this late hour Y/N was still in her gown from the last council meeting so many hours prior, she walked to the desk and placed down the data pads before again just staring at his face alone,

“ You have to review the settlements with Black suns and the Pykes there’s also some government business Almec wants reviewed. If you would like I can assist, it’s governmental sanctions, place-holding the new council, reestablishing the boundaries. “  

The time for amusement was over, Maul just did the same giving her an unwavering stare, Y/N felt her composure begin to waver, “Did I misspeak, Lord Maul?”

Her eyes flitted to the floor, “I am sorry-“

he interrupted her immediately ,“ You continue to perplex me, you know more than some of the current officials. How is that?”  He picked the first data pad, Y/N had already annotated the settlements, and offered suggestions and highlighted contentious content. Each aside citing a bylaw or previous settlement that had been transacted,  Maul waited for her answer.

Y/N raised a brow, “I thought you had already heard,” given the lack of reaction from him, Y/N just took a deep breath and began,

“I’m the daughter of one of the more influential families on Mandalore, however, being a bastard only allows you education and no titles, its why I was stuck as handmaid for the past 5 years,”    

“I thought Mandalorians  didn’t care for bloodlines?” he watched as her y/ec eyes looked away a look of resentment marring her usually calm features as she mulled over how to explain the next part.  Maul  opened another data pad, more annotation. He should be angry that she was looking over all this information, but if it saved him time for the next step of the plan he was more than pleased. Y/N always brought results.

   “To a degree”, she started again  “Foundlings are gladly accepted into families as they have no one, but family loyalty in mandalore is important. Martial lines are fortified they need to be honored,” her eyes narrowed as she continued on “Having a child outside of one’s marriage is a great offense. These children are usually raised up as foundlings if they can get away with it.” she had paused Maul again looked to her, she had finally looked up at him again, her eyes had lost their brightness now just passive, “ or  you’re like me, people find out and raise you up with the stigma. Ostracized and kept away from a place that should be yours paying for a mistake that you were never a part of. “  She ended, her matter of fact tone slightly unsettling, as if she rehearsed this explanation for years. Her face was void of any affect, she kept looking at Maul waiting for the inevitable sign of dismissal or reproach. Instead Maul just gave another glance down at the pad, what could he say? He was seen as a scourge upon the galaxy maybe his lack of reaction would benefit her.

Instead he heard her release her held breath, “Well now if that is all. I’ll take my leave,I can recommend another councilor to help you Lord Maul,”  Y/N wanted to run it was pure reflex now before he could throw her out.

She turned to go struggling to keep her face calm and her tears from rising, she felt him  grab her wrist. Y/N looked back to Maul tugging her away from the door, “ as I have mentioned you know more, you started this great work let’s finish it.” golden eyes stared down at her y/ec.  She was going to run he could sense her panic he found he did not like that reaction in her, he tugged her a little more, “ You are one of my councilors and clearly the most competent.

Y/N ket out a shaky breath and allowed herself a small smile “Of course.” ,  she walked with him back to the desk, setting open the latest data pad, “Well this one is more than a bit unfair I think we can…” there she was again, composed and confident while her heart betrayed her with its insistent flutters.

She makes herself useful anything to gain favor, Maul notes as they walk to the throne room Y/N double checking the duties of the day and meetings she can help with as long as he’s around else no one would listen. However he also notes Y/N does not do it in  a manner of groveling. She needed to have a place, she needed to show she was of use, for years she had been denied this a feeling Maul knew too well and seeing Y/N flourish in her new role was a delight. He watched as  she sometimes has to bite her tongue before making a remark, her composed features only marred by a slight twitch at the corner of her full lips. He admired her composure, even as the other councils bristled y/n just refuted each time, ready with a rebuttal and if not the calmness to accept their input for consideration before returning back to Maul with another point of the argument.  He enjoyed the utter shock and anger the council showed, y/n had bested them as she always did.  She would smile at him and Maul gave her an approving nod.

“I could just choke them for you it wouldn’t be a difficult task.” They were back to working at night again, with Y/N pouring them some spice tea to keep them awake. She had learned caf made him anxious, she had walked around the gardens with him as he tried to settle back down at some point she had even gripped his hands with hers to try and help, it had, but Y/N would not risk that again. She had stayed in the room that night curling up at one side of the bed, and Maul on the other. By morning she had woken to the Zabrak curled up behind her, a glimmer of hope has risen within her only to be squandered when Maul had woken up and just apologized and promised to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again. “

To address his offer, Y/N gives him a disapproving look, “They already don’t like me, let’s not add kindle to the fire,” she looked over his shoulder and leaned over to point at the pad, “You forgot to sign this one. “ she had a hand on his bare shoulder with her lips close to his cheek, Maul normally would let her linger calmed by her proximity and helpful reminders but today he scrunched his face in annoyance, “You can’t possibly agree with this settlement. They practically want to take over the foundry.”

This is where she gave a laugh, genuine and one that tickled his cheek, Maul let the warmth wash over him before returning back to a scowl. Y/N of course elaborated what she had found,  “ Those Pykes didn’t ask about which foundry, this was one is practically depleted. I was overlooking the mining records it was seen as last resort not that they know that and the records are sealed so it could just have been an error.”

It was silent, “You should take Almec’s place, you are more competent that that blithering chess piece”  Y/N  deserved a higher status she knew the workings of Mandalore better than anyone, she could easily run this planet. With y/n at the helm he could continue his next steps to reach other regions of the galaxy and pool current resources.  The thought pleased him, his brother on his right and Y/N on his left. Y/N at his side that ever faithful Mandalorian who was ever present and who worked with him. He let himself imagine more nights going over plans and details and the ever lingering smell of Y/N’s tea collection as she whispered and let thier hands brush.  

“With you at my side the power struggles would quickly cease.” He said to her, “ You can picture it don’t you, with the three of us we’d be ready to overcome anything,” Y/N’s smile fell slightly but she didn’t dare pull away, however  she had to know , “ In what capacity do you mean?” she needed to hear him say it, thought she already knew the answer.  

Maul looked up at her from his seat, “As my advisor, me and Savage owe you that much , it’s what you deserve.” He expected her to give him another brush of thier hands as she did, instead Y/N just stared at him her y/ec eyes again slowly loosing thier brightness, and gives a small nod.

“Of course that would be an honor,”  Maul felt her pull away from his side, the familiar comfort of her presence slowly slipping away,

“ I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said gently, Y/N struggles not to throw something, how could she allow herself to react this way. She should even be feeling like this!

Maul got up slowly, “But you just poured tea,” why was she trying to go? he was giving her what she wanted, now they could be closer than before,”  I’d say we still have some time.”  

Y/N forced herself to give a half smile, “ I suppose you’re right” she sat opposite to him, Maul waited for her to bring her chair closer as they had done for the past few weeks, but she did not she just began to work and sip her tea.

Maul followed suit trying to ignore the knowing feeling that something had been twisted on both ends.

#darth maul x reader #darth maul x y/n #maul x reader #maul x you #this is why we communicate effectively folks #nonverbal language though helpful is also better understood with verbal language #unfortunately maul #has a lot to say but clearly cant recognize that oh this is affection #reader fails miserably at not catching the feels #reader can negotiate all but the heart #star wars #cloudsdrabbles

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Interlude: First Life

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 3.4k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories? 

Part — 3.5 / 15

Warnings — relatively none, minor language, brief mention of death in childbirth

Previous — Next

{Paris, France — 1789 a.d.}

If there's one place on earth that you feel safe in, it's the garden surrounding the Chateau. With the large trees giving shade from the afternoon heat, the overgrowth of flora that attracts a variety of birds and insects, and the expansive maze of roses that covers the remnants of the grounds, it's a magical wonderland that's kept private for your family alone. When your father is away on his lengthy excursions around France, and the staff is busy keeping up with his home, you're left in utter peace to recline amongst nature and contemplate the state of the world.

You've concluded that there are a lot of things that have gone terribly awry in recent years. The citizens of Paris go hungry every day. Children are left without parents. Families are torn apart by famine and war. Endless war. Fear, anger, and hopelessness run rampant through the streets like gutter rats. 

Even in the modern year of 1789, the aristocracy to which your family line belongs has refused to do anything but suck the lifeblood of your country dry. They consume and destroy and tear the meat off the bones of your beloved France.

And your father is one of the worst there is. Your grandmother, the one who raised you, always told you to trust in yourself and in her family's power. She promised you that no matter how cruel or unkind your father, or the world, might be, you can always count on yourself.

"You have magic inside you, mon cherie," she would tell you every night. "One day, that magic will lead you to love."

"Why didn't it lead Mère to love?" you'd asked one day.

Your grandmother merely stopped what she was doing and laid her leathery hand on your head. "It led her to you, did it not? To you...and the garden outside your window."

Ever since then, the garden has been the place where you feel your mother's presence, but it's also the place where you harness her family's magic. The power that flows in your bloodline grows stronger every day, and when you reach your early twenties, it multiplies ten-fold.

Without control, your grandmother warns that your only escape will start to wilt and wither. And though you never intended, she's right.

One morning, you awake to a shriveled garden outside your balcony.

And a very angry father.

"What the hell happened here!" he shouts, storming out of the doors below your perch and into the supposed greenery. His eyes are wild and angry, nostrils enlarged as he fumes at the groundskeeper for not doing his job properly for a full five minutes.

You'd been on the end of that rage yourself. Not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire, you pull back the curtain and shield yourself from his view.

"Sire, it's become a terribly dry year," the groundskeeper says, giving one last attempt to console your father. "Everyone is suffering. It's part of the reason that the Third Estate is so restless."

"I don't care about the peasantry!" he bellows. "The Third Estate is the scourge of France. The only reason they exist is to keep the wheels greased and the treasury full. Drought or not, my garden should be blossoming. You find someone else that can properly do your job and you make yourself scarce! I never want to see your face again!"

Your grandmother finds you on the floor next to your balcony window, partially shielded by the curtains. She gives you a soft expression, extending her hand to you to help you to your feet.

"It's growing again, Grandmère," you whisper. "My spells are getting more powerful. I—I almost killed the garden this time. If Père ever found out..."

Your sentence trails off, and Grandmère puts her palm against your cheek. "Mon cherie, if you ever get the chance to leave this place, promise me that you'll take it and never look back."

"But I wouldn't leave y—"

The elderly woman shakes her head, moving a single finger to your lips. "—Never look back. Promise me."

Despite yourself, you nod once, and your grandmother places a kiss on your forehead.

True to his word, before the week is over, the usual groundskeeper is nowhere in sight and a new one has taken his place. You meet him while in the garden, though the last thing you expected was for a boy your age to sneak up on you while you were collecting a few herbs for your next spell.

"You must be Princess [Y/n]?"

Jumping back, you turn and face the strange man with wide eyes and hands clasped tightly around a handful of Mimosa blossoms, Yucca leaves, and Life Everlasting blooms. 

The person standing in front of you isn't bad looking. Quite the opposite. He has an alluring aura about him that goes beyond the wavy black hair and honey skin. Behind his warm eyes and boxy smile, there's a uniqueness to him that you've never seen before. Even with a mother that wasn't French, you'd never seen someone like him.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man smirks a little before responding. "I'm the new groundskeeper? Your father hired me this morning. I hate to think of what happened to the other one. I saw him leave through the front gate when I arrived. He didn't look the best."

Your eyes soften, and your guard drops. "If you knew this job was going to be hard, if you knew my father was cruel, why did you take it?"

"We all have our reasons, right?" He gestures to your hands. "Such as why you're holding all of the living things left in this place?"

You shove the flowers and herbs into the pocket of the white apron, laid over your casual dress. "This is my garden, Monsieur..."

"Kim. Kim Taehyung."

"You're not from France, are you, Monsieur Kim?"

"What gave it away?" You gesture to all of him, which makes Taehyung laugh.

"Well, if we were going by appearances, I never would've known you were the lord's daughter. You're dressed like a servant."

"You called me 'princess.'" Your head tilts to the side, eyebrows pulling together. "I have no such title...but how did you know I was his daughter?"

Taehyung shrugs and nods to your open balcony door. "I saw you this morning while you were reading on the balcony."

Your face pulled into a scowl. "Why you—"

Taehyung raises his hands in mock surrender, the smile never faltering. "Calm down, Princess. All I'm saying is that you might want to keep your doors closed. You never know when someone might be peaking in."

From that day onward, an unlikely friendship blossoms between you Taehyung. The man is odd, there's no doubt about that, but he's just about the only normal person in your life. The only one you've ever known, actually. He's real and kind and lovely in every possible way.

He comes to the Chateau several times a week for the next several months in an attempt to get the garden back to normal. The winter had been cruel, and the drought unforgiving, but Taehyung brought with him knowledge from other lands, especially from his homeland of Korea. If you hadn't had him explain the science behind his tricks of the trade, you would have thought he had magic in him, too.

"You have to irrigate them well, starting at the upward slopes so that the water can drain back down. Use gravity to our advantage. Then the new system I created will take the excess and bring it to the herbs, which tend to be more resilient than Mimosa, Yucca, or Life Everlasting."

You stare at him with wide eyes of curiosity, watching him as he takes water from the well and pours it into the starting container of the extensive irrigation system. The pipeline crawls all over the garden, out of sight as to not distract the eyes from the beauty. The precious liquid flows and forks into the various braches, giving lifeblood back to the garden.

"I've also been adding phosphorus to the soil," he tells you, placing a hand on his hip with a pleased expression. "That should aid the root systems so that water can be absorbed easier."

You shake your head, amazed and awestruck at what he'd accomplished in a short few months. Turning to Taehyung, you throw your arms around him and hold him tight.

"You're magic, Taehyung. Just magic!"

He laughs at your sudden outburst and embraces you tightly to him. "It helps when you're from a family of farmers. Not magic, Princess, just practice."

Spring comes with thunderous applause and unconfronted feelings. The rain stays, but Taehyung's ingenuity has all but brought the Chateau's surroundings back to life.

Your beloved garden blooms, as does your love for its savior—both of which despite your magic, not because of it.

As spring marches forward, you find yourself spending more and more time together. And while it was as friends or mutual curiosity before, these days you spend in the garden are more than that. There's an underlying yearning for each other, but for reasons you both know, neither of you moves on it.

"Isn't your birthday coming up?" Taehyung asks, out of the blue, one afternoon. He's sorting through the various seeds that he'd purchased using the allowance your father gave him, kneeling down beside the arrangements on the ground.

Reclining against one of the Mimosa trees, you place the pen and paper on your lap. You'd been messing around with a spell idea for a few weeks now, but it's been difficult to get it onto paper. Being with him in the garden aways brought about inspiration, so you came prepared today.

"I overheard some of the staff discussing it," he adds, seeing the question on your face before you verbalize it. "How old will you be?"

You sigh, "Twenty-one."

Taehyung sorts the rose seeds from the marigolds, ensuring that the two plants don't end up in the same soil, which he says will ensure both of them die early on. "Why do you sound so glum about it? Isn't your birthday worth celebrating?"

The side of your mouth tugs into a tiny smile at the sweetness of his last sentence. "Not when your father's insisting that he find a suitable groom for you once you turn twenty-one."

The dark-haired man's hands halt suddenly, his eyes transfixed on the layout in front of him. He slumps back, resting his weight entirely on his knees and lower legs. "And you're not happy about that."

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself. "Not at all. Especially since I have a sinking feeling I know who his selection will be. He's a son of a wealthy lord on the other side of the Seine. It would be a strategic marriage, completely in my father's favor."

"You don't love him." His observation is not a question.

"Of course not," you scoff. "I hardly know him. I've only met him a few times. He's the last person on earth that I would pick to marry."

Taehyung finally shifts his gaze from the seeds to your face, meeting your eyes. "Who's the first then, Princess?"

His question catches you off-guard and brings heat into your cheeks. "I—I hadn't thought about it, didn't have anyone in particular in mind. Only for love. That's my only requirement."

The foreigner nods once then relinquishes his intense gaze, seemingly satisfied with your reply.

There's a pause before you continue. "This is exactly what happened to my mother. She wasn't French, a foreigner who married my father because it was beneficial. She was forced into this marriage and died in childbirth."

"That's terrible," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

You offer a grateful nod, turning your eyes to the clear blue sky. "Taehyung...have you ever thought about running away?" The question comes out of you, surprising you with your honesty. It's as if it has a mind of its own.

Taehyung cracks a smile. "Princess, I've been running my whole life. I ran away from my hometown to travel the world, to see it all. Never thought I'd end up stuck in France, in Paris of all places, and yet I'm still trying to run towards the New World."

You turn to stare at him in awe. "You're so brave. I don't know if I could do that."

"Do you want to?"

"Of course. I want to be free from this place, free from the future my father has set up for me. My greatest fear is becoming my mother, engaged to a man I don't love and dead after giving birth. My mother wanted the same thing, but she died before she could arrange it. I was lucky to survive being born. Grandmère tells me that I lived because of—"

You catch yourself before you continue, knowing that this story goes into a secret that only you and your grandmother carry with you. You've never told another soul about your magic, not one. Not even your father knows. What would he think if he did? Or worse, what would Taehyung think? Would he think you a freak, something wicked, a pawn of the devil?

"Because of...?" Taehyung prompts. He sees your hesitation in your bit lower lip and shifting gaze. "You can tell me, [Y/n]. Whatever it is, you can trust me."

Taehyung almost never calls you by your real name. It's almost always "Princess." That little bit of reassurance pushes you to continue your story. If this relationship is going to go forward at all, it's time.

Now or never.

"Grandmère tells me that I survived because of my mother's final...final spell. A spell of love."

The brunet tilts his head curiously, obviously not expecting that continuance. "A spell?"

You nod, trying to keep your nervous voice even and controlled. "My mother's family has a secret, one that's passed down from generation to generation. We're witches. Magic runs in our veins. I've been magical all my life, but the past year or so, my power has grown a lot. I've been practicing and trying to get a handle on it, and Grandmère has been teaching me, but sometimes that power is...too much."

His gaze softens as a smile of realization tugs at his mouth. "Hence the garden suddenly wilting overnight. I thought there was more involved than the drought."

Your breath catches in your lungs as Taehyung puts the pieces together. "You're not freaked out? You don't think I'm evil?"

"No," he laughs, scooting closer as to sit in front of you. "Why would I think that? Back home, we have soothsayers and card readers and all kinds of magically-inclined people. I don't think you're evil or anything of the sort."

A wave of relief washes over you, and you slouch back against the tree. Your companion gives an amused chuckle at your state, but you're too drained to make a comment."But if there was magic involved, then the garden shouldn't have come back on its own, even with my help. Did you, I don't know, cast a spell to heal it?"

You shake your head and sit straight once again. "Nothing of the kind. I think...I think it had something to do with you."

"Me?" he asks, surprised.

You nod. "The more time I spent with you, the better you made me feel, the more of a friendship bond we created, the more I felt my magic wane. In a good way! I felt balanced, for the first time in my entire life, and then the garden started to bloom again. I can't explain it. It's like you made me feel like I was safe enough to express magic in a healthy way, not just in a way that could destroy."

Your heartfelt confession makes Taehyung lift his hand to your cheek, cradling your face in a tender way that only your grandmother has. "And you said I was the magical one. Princess, I've got nothing on you." He leans in closer, his warm breath brushing against your face. "Can I kiss y—"

"—Yes."

Taehyung chuckles and closes the distance between you. His lips graze yours, hesitant at first. His are soft and delicate, just as you'd imagined they would be. The hands cupping your face pull you closer, and yours move to his shoulder to balance yourself. Though gentle, the gentle push and shove causes you to smile into the kiss.

It doesn't take long for the gesture to shift from shy to needy, from sweet to passionate. All the pent up emotions you'd both kept inside these past few months come pouring out in the form of hands on waists and hips, fingers desperately gripping clothing and grazing skin, teeth greedily nipping at lips and elsewhere on the face. Taehyung is a passionate individual, but you never really knew how much until now.

Moving closer to you, he pulls you into his lap, adjusting your dress as to let your legs slide to either side of his hips. Pulling you ever closer, he continues to fight for dominance. One hand shifts from your waist to your neck, tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. You slide your fingers through his hair, inadvertently tugging at a few curls and dragging an unconscious sigh from Taehyung.

After a few moments, the brunet pulls back. Both of you come up for air, breathing heavily and feeling dizzy. A euphoric feeling rushes through your body, something much closer to magic than you've ever felt. All around you, new flowers begin to bloom. Taehyung's gaze flickers from you to the new flora around you, watching in awe as the flowers grow taller to encase you both in a cradle of spring.

And it's there—in Taehyung's arms, sitting in the middle of a revived garden—that you realize you've fallen in love with him.

His next words come out softer and more tender than anything you've never heard. "Come with me."

"Tae..."

He shakes his head, resting his forehead against yours. "Don't do that."

"Where could we go?" you reply. "France is falling apart. The Third Estate is going to rebel before summer's end; it's all anyone can talk about. There's not a place on earth that my father won't find me. Find us. You know what becomes of us both if that happens."

Taehyung brushes the tears away from your eyes with his thumbs. "He can't follow us across the sea."

The weight of his offer hits you. The sea. The New World. America. Could it really be true? Could it really happen? Freedom and love and life, all at once?

"What about Grandmère? I couldn't just leave her here with that monster."

"Then we'll take her, too!" He presses another kiss to your mouth, pulling back after a brief moment. "I'll have the money by the end of July. That's not too far away. I will do anything to keep you safe, Princess. Anything. Run away with me. We can start over. I've fallen in love with you over these past months, and I know you feel the same."

You nod fervently. "I do, but..."

"But what? But nothing. You said it yourself: if you stay here, your future is that of your mother's. Wouldn't she want you to spare yourself of it?" His hands cupping your face tighten ever so slightly as he sees his argument making an impact. "Come with me. I can protect you. I love you, magic or none. Don't make me lose you."

"I love you, too."

"Say you'll come. Say you'll run away with me."

Heaving a heavy sigh, your place your hands over his and look him in the eyes. "I'll go anywhere with you."

#bangtan-madi writes #all of our lifetimes #aool #taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung fic #soulmate au #reincarnation au #reincarnated au #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts v #bts au #taehyung au #strangers to lovers #established relationship #husband!taehyung #boyfriend!taehyung

[kill-for-cookies]

Missing you, finding you (pt. 3)

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Words: 1648

Note: yeah, I finally publish it! I just decided to write some fluff after this heartbroken moment (well, at least for me this was so). Hope you enjoy it!

Previous parts: 1 / 2

Tags: @actuallyanita

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Friday. Another day at work. Basically, nothing unusual happened. Calm and easy day. Even a little boring. You didn't do anything, just sat in the office. Well, there were a couple of things to do, actually. And you probably would have said they were important before. But after traveling with the Master and even more after the argument, everything was so small and distant. 

It was two weeks after you left. Two painful weeks, actually. Probably the worst in your life. You were just thinking all these days. Thinking and thinking of everything. Especially of how things could have been different. You reproached the Master for destroying the planet and killing the innocent. But also reproached yourself for your behavior. You shouldn't have reacted like that. It was too abrupt and impulsive. You should control yourself. 

And recently, everything was so good. It seemed only yesterday you met the Master for the first time. Well, actually, he stole you from the Doctor while you fell behind, looking at something. And that was probably when your relationship with him started. Not as a Doctor's companion and her best enemy. 

*

You were pushed into the storage room. There was an unknown device at the back of your head. Well, not exactly unknown. At least, you knew what it was doing. Miniaturised objects and most likely people, too. You didn't want to test it on yourself. So that was enough to convince you. Although you left a few bruises for the Master. This was already success. 

The Doctor mentioned him several times. How they grew up together and then became enemies. In fact, you saw the Master once. But it was in the TARDIS, because the Doctor asked you to stay. She said it was too dangerous and you could get in trouble. So theoretically, you could say this was the second time you saw him. 

The storage room was bigger on the inside and looked very much like the control room in the Doctor's TARDIS. Just a little darker and more cluttered. Oppressive situation. You assumed it was the TARDIS. 

Surprisingly, you weren't tied up or handcuffed. It didn't make much sense, though. First of all, the Master watched your every action so you wouldn't be able to escape, even if you thought about it. And secondly, you didn't even want to. He wouldn't do anything to you anyway. The Doctor wouldn't let him hurt you and he needed you alive. It wasn't very comforting, but it was something. 

"You know, you don't have to do this..." 

You were the first to break the silence, crossing your arms over your chest. The Master looked at you carefully. This look made you very uncomfortable and scared. You wanted to look away, hide or run, but you didn't. You found some courage. 

"Nothing personal, darling. I just need to get the Doctor's attention" your skin crawled. 

"I didn't say about kidnapping. It doesn't matter now" the Master raised an eyebrow and his grin became even wider. He looked like a Cheshire cat. He was very interested in your last sentence. "All these evil plans, threats... You don't have to do this."

"Oh, my little Y/N..." he tucked hair behind your ear, making you shiver a little. "I've been doing this for thousands of years. Do you think if I didn't want to, I would continue?" 

You looked away, not daring to say the next sentence. It may cost you or may end well. But you had to say that. So you took the courage and sighed, ready to ask the question. 

"Then why do I see only pain and loneliness in your eyes?"

You bit your lip so hard that you could taste the coppery taste of blood. You still didn't look at the Master. Only occasionally and out of the corner of eye. You didn't need to look to know the Master was glaring at you. You wanted to hide. But in any case, not to take back your words. 

*

No one deserved such pain and loneliness. Nobody. Even the Master. It was surprising you could see this in him. The Master was usually angry, explosive and arrogant. Who would have thought he had a vulnerable heart? That was probably why he reacted like this. Well, you thought so.

Now in the office you flipped the pen in your hands and pressed the button on it. You stared at one point. But you weren't definitely in this reality. Thoughts were somewhere far away, about that evening when the Master offered you all the time and space. 

*

You entered the apartment. Just got back from friends. You took off your jacket and shoes and went into the living room. Surprisingly, the room wasn't dark. Light came in from the kitchen. You definitely turned it off before. Someone was in your apartment. 

"Hey! Who's here? I know you're here. Show yourself!" you saw the dark figure in the chair. Your eyes strained to see who it was. 

"Oh, Y/N. Why are you so rude to a guest?" the table lamp theatrically turned on and you saw Time Lord in a purple coat. 

"Master? What are you doing here?" there was a spot on his waistcoat (as far as you could see behind purple fabric). "Wait... are you bleeding? I'll go get the first-aid kit. I'll be there in a minute. Wait a bit." 

Before you could turn around and head for the bathroom, you saw the Master trying to get up. It must have been quite a big wound and the pain was intense, because he closed eyes, barely holding himself from hissing.

"Don't you dare to get up. You, Time Lords, live for thousands of years and you are such idiots..." 

You came back with a first-aid kit and treated his wound with antiseptic. The wound was big enough that you had to sew it up. But it wasn't so bad. At least, nothing you couldn't handle. You had basic knowledge of first aid. 

"Why did you come to me?" you just needed to make a couple of stitches and the Master would be as good as new. "How did you know I would help you?" 

"Because you're the only one who is good to me" your hands stopped. You slowly raised your head, examining the Master's face. You didn't expect him to be sincere. All his rough facade disappeared somewhere and before you was the real Master, without taunts and arrogance. 

"Would you like to go on a trip with me? As a thank you" he said with a low and shy voice. This was exactly what you didn't expect to see and hear today. 

So you had doubts. You didn't even know what to do. It was tempting, but also kind of weird. Besides, it wasn't every day (or evening) that the most wanted criminal in the Universe came to you and offered you time and space. But you didn't hesitate long. His plaintive eyes disarmed you and you agreed. 

*

You always saw through the Master. Always. It didn't matter how many times you met him. A couple or dozens. His sharp appearance didn't affect you at all. And he liked it in you. 

You were on your lunch break. You had a cup of tea in your hand. Nice cup of tea. You should enjoy it, but you stared blankly into the dark liquid. Like into the void. As it was in your eyes. You tried to throw away a memory. Tried to not think about it. But you didn't succeed. Because it was unforgettable. 

*

You ran into the TARDIS after the Master, quickly slamming the door. And just in time. After all, a second later, shots were heard directly at the TARDIS doors. Basically, it was a normal adventure with the Master. Usually all adventures ended like this. 

"Whoa! Good run, wasn't it?" you asked cheerfully as you approached the console and the Master. 

He looked somehow frowning and gloomy, although his eyes stared blankly at the console. The Master was clearly worried about something. Weird. Everything went according to plan. Well, almost. Running wasn't provided. But everything else went smoothly. 

"Hey... is everything okay? You don't look very well..."

The Master sharply turned around and gave you a tight smile. This was supposed to comfort you. Like everything was fine and you didn't have to worry. But you couldn't be fooled easily. Eyes always gave him away. They were talking shouting something happened. And it pricked your heart. 

"Don't look at me like that. Just tell me what happe..." before you could finish, the Master interrupted you, raising his voice, which caused you to jump.

"What happened? You ask me what happened?! You could have been killed! And I couldn't have done anything! How can you react so calmly..."

You pressed your lips to the Master's, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer to you. He took care of you. Was afraid something bad might happen to you. The main scourge of the Universe had a soft spot for you. How could you not to kiss him? 

*

These were good times. Old good times. You missed them. Sometimes you wanted to drop everything, that kept you on Earth, and go on trips again. On dangerous, but exciting trips. 

"Y/N, can I ask you a favor?" 

It took you a few seconds to realise you were addressed. You turned your head to the source of the voice. Before you was your colleague Jack, a nice and kind guy. 

"What... A favor? Which one?" you tried to concentrate, even though your head was in a fog. 

"Will you take the papers to the boss? I'm starving."

"Um... Yes, sure" a sweet smile appeared on your face. At least, it would distract you a little from the constant stream of thoughts. 

#doctor who #fanfiction #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master imagine #the master #the master x reader #the master imagine #dw #dw imagine

[chivalin]

Fic Masterpost (old, will not be updated > see pages for recent stuff)

NEWEST ADDED

(original m/m) Eli/Donny, NSFW: Wank (12.8.)

Inibri/Harkun, NSFW-ish: Omega Perspectives (10.8.)

Scourge/F!JK, NSFW: Kinks of All Sizes (7.8.)

Dark Council Reacting To Someone Flirting With Their S/O (5.8.)

Arcann/F!Commander, NSFW: Losing (and Winning) (3.8.)

(original f/f) Valarie/Ragna: Kisses (24.6.)

FINISHED REQUESTS TAG

*

SWTOR

MAIN OCs

Natjana, F!Pureblood SW/Sith: Non-Fic 

Need (x implied Empress Acina)

x Malavai Quinn: Non-Fic

SFW: Bend The World To Your Will ¤ Training Session ¤ Bathing Together ¤ Rocket Breaks The Ice ¤ Family, No Matter What ¤ Relaxation ¤ You’re My Type ¤ A Weapon (mostly solo!Nat) ¤ Love

NSFW: Curiosity (-ish) ¤ Bonded ¤ Quinn In Lingerie (ficlet + my art) ¤ Cabs Are Not Made For This (-ish) ¤ On Your Knees

Quinn: Kink Cards (NSFW, 5/5 + intro & outro, dom!Natjana x sub!Quinn): Intro (SFW) ¤ Part 1 (Senseless) ¤ Part 2 (Bound) ¤ Part 3 (Prey) ¤ Part 4 (Down) ¤ Part 5 (Servant) ¤ Outro (SFW)

Inibri, M!Twi'lek Sith: Non-Fic 

ITLD: As A Slave (1/3) ¤ ITLD: As An Acolyte (2/3; x implied Harkun, one-sided) ¤ Ascension

x Overseer Harkun: Non-Fic 

SFW: Becoming & Being Sith ¤ Relationship (?) Troubles ¤ Taking Things Further? ¤ Mesmerizing ¤ ITLD: As A Sith (3/3) ¤ Intertwined ¤ I Love You ¤ A Nerf Dart ¤ Nightmares

NSFW: One, Simple Question (-ish, x semi Reader) ¤ Control & Fangs (Fangs is vampire!AU) ¤ Intentionally Shitty (-ish, purposefully bad fic + podfic) ¤ Fantasies And Reality ¤ Omega Perspectives (-ish)

x sassheliosazuras’ Sass: Non-Fic ¤ sassheliosazuras’ Fics 

You Wish A Kiss? ¤ First Meeting ¤ Morning Kisses ¤ TMI Ask (”How are things going between you two?”) ¤ Insatiable (NSFW, demon!AU) ¤  Nicknames (NSFW)

Gauwalt, M!Human Agent: Non-Fic 

Is This A Dream? (x gerdavonrinnlingen’s Badesh) ¤ Can I…? (& lordviridis’ Aleena) ¤ Gauwalt’s Shrine (& cameo(?) from lordviridis’ Aleena) ¤ With Dreams Like These... (x Master)

Codzhekel, M!Togruta SI/Sith Apprentice: Non-Fic 

Permission (& Inibri, mention of wyngrenlegacy’s Ardylix) ¤  Weak Link (& Harkun) ¤ Movie Night (x wyngrenlegacy’s Ardylix)

x Ashara: Mentality of Freedom ¤ Savior

Vilrthis, M!Pureblood Outlander/Sith: Non-Fic 

Yes, There Is (x lordviridis’ Gesad) ¤ Monster Skin, Gentle Heart 

x Cytharat: Longing (x Cytharat, one-sided) ¤ Keeping It Casual (NSFW)

x Theron Shan: Non-Fic ¤ Quiet Moment ¤ Decision ¤ In A Tree And With No Issues ¤ Little Cabin ¤ Nothing (mostly solo!Vills) ¤ Happily Ever After (conclusion)

Casung, M!Pureblood Sith: Non-Fic

x lordviridis’ Prectarius: Lovers, Bloody and Sweet (NSFW)

READER

x Darth Vowrawn: His Secretary (Part 1) ¤ Studying and  ‘exting (x semi Vowrawn) ¤ His Secretary (NSFW, Part 2) ¤ Please, My Dear (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ Good Girl (NSFW, F!Reader)

x Darth Marr: Showing His Desire For You (NSFW) ¤ Transcendence  (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ Displaying Dominance (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤  Distracting Presences (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ Marrmarr (NSFW, F!Reader)

x Theron Shan: Meditation Distractions (NSFW) ¤ Loving Embrace (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ Learning Patience (NSFW, F!Reader)

x Darth/Empress Acina: Night Shift

x Darth Mortis: I Want You (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ A Typical Day In The Office (NSFW, F!Reader) ¤ Nightly Visitor (NSFW, F!Reader)

x Malavai Quinn: Fear of Failure

x Lord Scourge: For Eternity (NSFW, F!Reader)

x Darth Jadus: Such Obedience (NSFW-ish)

x Darth Decimus: Victory Celebration (NSFW, F!Reader)

NPC x NPC

Vowrawn x Marr: Boredom ¤ New Desk ¤ Thin Walls

Quinn x Vette: First Time (NSFW)

Arkous x Darok: Revanite Power Couple

Ravage x Acina: Work Meeting (NSFW)

Quinn x Pierce: I’m Better Than You (NSFW)

Multiple: Sex In The Chambers (NSFW, Marr x Vowrawn, Acina x Ravage, Mortis x Thanaton, Decimus x watching)

Baras x Grik Sonosan: You Will Tell Me (NSFW)

NPC x OC

Theron Shan: Being Undercover At A Strip Club (x semi M!Pureblood Sith)  ¤ Against The Wall (NSFW, x M!Pureblood Sith) ¤ Simple Pleasures (NSFW, x F!Commander) ¤ Wedding Night (NSFW, x F!Jedi)

Darth Ravage: Brat (NSFW, x M!OC Felrau) ¤ Princess (NSFW, x F!OC Kaiya) ¤ Marked (NSFW, x F!OC Kaiya) ¤  Fill Me (NSFW, x M!OC Felrau)

Malavai Quinn: I Need You (NSFW, x M!SW)

Arcann: Together Time (NSFW, x F!Jedi Knight) ¤ Losing (and Winning) (NSFW, x F!Commander)

Kaliyo Djannis: Love Is In The Air (x M!IA Laspit) ¤ During The Mission (NSFW-ish, x M!IA Laspit)

Tari Darkspanner: Prettii Deals With The Revanites (x F!Assassin Prettii)

Lana Beniko: At First Glance (x F!BH Mirvas) ¤ Minxie The Cat Brings Them Together (x F!BH Mirvas) ¤ Different Kind of Torture (NSFW, x F!Knight of Zakuul)

Darth Thanaton: Loosening Up (x M!Freelancer Haskad) ¤ Struggle (x M!Freelancer Haskad, SR 1/3) ¤ Struggle Resolved (x M!Freelancer Haskad, SR 2/3) ¤ Cuddles (x M!Freelancer Haskad, SR 3/3) ¤ Only Sex (NSFW, x F!SI)

Darth Vowrawn: Sweet Reunion (NSFW-ish, x SW)

Khem Val: To Be Served, One Needs To Serve (NSFW, x F!SI)

Rogun the Bucher: Gambling Night (NSFW, x SM)

Darth Mortis: On a Date (NSFW, F!SW/Wrath)

Lord Scourge: Kinks of All Sizes (NSFW, F!JK)

OTHER (fics in here don’t count in others!)

Reactions Masterpost  (mainly Imperial LIs & Dark Council)

Domestic Fluff Masterpost (31, 10 each + 1 shared; Natjana/Quinn, Inibri/Harkun, Vilrthis/Cytharat)

Chiv’s Advent Calendar 2017 (26; all SWOR LIs & Arkous x Darok prelude)

Dark Council & Suomi Finland 100! (12; all DC Members)

Jonjar Tinglee, Alien Bartender: Alliance Base Bartender

STAR WARS

To Have A Little Fun (NSFW, 4/4, mainly dom!Reader x sub!Hux): Part 1 (SFW) ¤ Part 2 ¤ Part 3 ¤ Part 4/Final Part

Armitage Hux: Wants To Be Dominated (NSFW, in the spirits of To Have A Little Fun)

#masterpost #swtor #swtor fic #for mobile #chivrambles