#even though she only has four fingers but shh..
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Your Mark On Me, Part 7
Summary: you and Bucky learn to navigate your relationship
Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of arson, mutual pining, mentions of branding, mentions of a gun kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 5.3K
Previous
Series Masterlist
*dividers by @firefly-graphics
*Bucky edit by @nixakimbo
“Mmm,” you moan. Feeling more rested than you have in years. A warmth radiates from your belly, and you start to turn to your side. But the warmth hisses at you, and you jolt awake. Staring down at her sweet face. Her blue green eyes twinkle at you before she crawls back up to lay on you. And then you panic.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Alpine meows up at you, tapping her paw on your face before you ever get to six. Pressing herself against you, and you feel her body vibrate with her purrs. It’s not that she isn’t beautiful and adorable. You’re just in a stranger’s home.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Her toe beans tap a bit harder on your chin, and you give her a frustrated look. “This is my process,” you whisper, looking towards the door to the bedroom. “Is he a light sleeper?”
Alpine jumps off the bed, and bounces to the door, turning back to look at you innocently. You aren’t sure if she needs to just get out of this enclosed space, or if she needs to see her owner. You shake your head, and bring your knees up to your chest. You didn’t know how you were going to get out of his house without him seeing you. Or worse, where would you go?
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Her screeches and loud meows make you open your eyes. Her hand scratches at the door in front of her.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“Hey, baby, what’s — oh,” he walks closer to you, and your breath stops. “Shh,” he softly says, pulling your hand up to his mouth. Feel my breathing. Inhale. Exhale.”
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“You want to breathe, just follow me,” he pulls your hand down to his chest, and you feel his warmth under your palm. “Come on, I know you can do it. I’m not going to hurt you,” finally, blinking as you gasp for air. “There ya go. That was perfect. Follow my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Alpine, come here, girl. She stayed with you all night, didn’t you?”
The fluffy angel jumps in your lap, and you smile as you look down at her. Starting to run your fingers through her fur as your breathing and heart regulates, “I think she likes you. She hasn’t even begged for food. So, what do you remember from last night?”
“Fire,” that was the simple answer. The complicated answer was you cleansed yourself of all the embedded memories in that house. You couldn’t tell this stranger that.
“Yeah, there was a fire. Why didn’t you leave the house?” His fingers tap over his knee. An odd gesture that makes you think he wants to hold your hand. You can’t right now, even though it doesn’t make you want to run. For a stranger he’s showed more kindness to you than people that were supposed to protect you.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to watch it devour everything.”
He licks his lip, pulling the bottom one in as he bites it. Contemplating the next question. “What happened to your arm?” It’s the first time you’ve noticed he has an arm that is made of metal. Thinking you might have offended him with that question, you start to stumble over your words, “I’m sorry. I have scars, too. I don’t like talking about them,” his metal arm isn’t all you notice since he is topless.
“It’s okay. This arm doesn’t bother me anymore. It was an accident when I was in the army,” armed forces and a wounded soldier equals bad. It was always bad, “I don’t drink, and the only thing I do on a regular basis is smoke. I’m not that kinda soldier.”
“My dad was,” your eyes flick up to look at him, and he gives you a tiny nod. “How did you know where I lived?”
“You’ll hate me if I tell you. I don’t want you to hate me,” you didn’t want to hate him, and aren’t even sure you could. He is too kind to hate.
“Did you follow me from the grocery store?” He grimaces, but nods. “You didn’t bring me milk.”
“I saw you have a panic attack. I’m familiar with them because I’ve had them. I needed to make sure you made it home okay. It’s nothing sinister,” what should repulse you is sweet. The man who didn’t know you took the time to make sure that you were okay. And had returned at least on one occasion, but something tells you that it wasn’t just the once.
A silence passes between the two of you, and Alpine turns to put her paws on your chest, meowing softly before she nuzzles into you. “You kept coming?”
“Would you hate me if I said, yes?”
“No.”
“Since we’re being honest, why did you burn the house?” While it seems ill advised, you trust this man. He’d saved your life on more than one incident, and had continued to come in just to check on you. You want to tell him your life story.
“It was a piece of shit that housed a piece of shit, and it killed the piece of shit. I didn’t want it to kill me, either. I needed a fresh start. I didn’t need to be burdened down with…I’m not crazy. I’m odd, but I’m not crazy. There’s things that I don’t want to talk about right now,” it feels good to speak candidly about your past. Let a perfect stranger know your odd reasons for destroying that part of your life.
“But would you? Eventually talk about those things?” You aren’t sure why, but you like him. Not in some weird sexual way, but you like him. He’s warm. Soft, understanding, and patient. His voice is deep and loving. The lack of love you have felt most of your life makes you want to cling to him, but you need a boundary set up, so he can’t hurt you. They always do. You trust them, and they flip.
“Eventually. Thank you. I need to get dressed, and — I have nothing,” looking down at the clothes on you, realizing they’re his, your breathing starts to pick up. You had nothing. Just your laptop, and whatever you were wearing last night. Wherever it was.
One. Two. Three. Four.
“Hey, shh, we can go out and get you clothes.”
“I have nowhere to even live,” you burnt everything. The roof over your head.
One. Two. Three. Four.
“It’s not even been twelve hours since last night,” his voice never gets agitated. It remains steady. Even. It almost makes you calm down. But you had nothing left. It was all ashes.
One. Two. Three. Four.
“Inhale. Exhale,” why did he keep interrupting your counting? Why did he even care?
One. Two. Three. Four.
“This place has two rooms. Don’t worry about where you’re living. You can have this room. I don’t have much. Most nights I sleep on the couch anyways,” inhale. Exhale. He is serious. “I’m not asking for anything from you.”
“Why not? Why are you doing this for me?”
“I’ve been there. I just want you to feel kindness for a change. No one deserves to live in a mental hell. Even if it makes you a creative genius,” you crack a smile, naturally giving his leg a soft tap as you giggle. He knew enough about you. It is silly, but it makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment thinking about him searching what you did for a living. Odd that he was able to find out that little tidbit, “What?”
“You not only followed me home, you read up on me?” He winks and nods his head towards a bookshelf. Your eyes scan over each of the books in there, and each one of them is yours, “You’ve…you bought them all?” You try to hide your smile, because what should be weird, is oddly adorable.
“No, I read them all. They’re amazing. I don’t know what really happened to you, and I don’t expect for you to tell me your true story, but your experiences have created worlds. You should be proud you used your life for something amazing.”
“I did, didn’t I?” You never compliment yourself. Never even like to bring attention to your work. It’s why you use a pen name. You never talk about your worth, but he was. Not just your worth, but your work. So much of yourself went into writing those worlds. Those moments and memories. The lack of wanting to do book tours, you never hear the good side of it. It felt nice.
“You want me to make breakfast? I make amazing eggs Benedict. I’ll even let you feed the queen Alpine her breakfast,” that sweet baby meows loudly, and jumps into the floor. Turning back to look at you with an angry noise. “She’s impatient.”
“I don’t want you to pity me.”
“I don’t. You fascinate me. There’s no pity coming from me. Except the pity I’ll feel if you don’t feed her fast enough, and she starts nibbling on your baby toes. It stings a bit.”
“Okay,” you whisper, following the smart kitty out of the bedroom. She seems to know where everything is, so you’ll listen. And maybe, hopefully this wasn’t a big mistake.
“And what exactly are you making?” You ask Bucky, jumping up on the counter opposite of the stove just to stare at his back. He continues to move around the food, and Alpine meows up at you. “Your daddy says you can’t get up here.”
“She can’t. Baby, go get on your tower, or you can ask your…Shy Violet to get off the counter, and quit bothering me,” Bucky peeks back at you, wondering if you caught his slip up in calling you Alpine’s mom. You didn’t. You are still smiling down at Alpine, pointing towards her tower.
“Daddy says no getting up here. Go on, my sweet girl, I’ll cuddle with you later,” Alpine has to be the smartest kitty alive because she meows loudly and angrily before she trots over to her cat tower, and you reach into the salad bowl pulling out a lump of feta. “Bucky, what are you making?” You give a little whine to him, lifting a leg to tap on his butt.
His arm quickly reaches behind him, and grabs onto your leg, “I told you that you better quit trying to touch my ass,” he actually wished you would touch it with your hands. Each day that passed he needed you to be more than just his roommate. Sleeping in the same bed as you was becoming harder, and so was he. It was fine, but it wasn't enough. He wanted all of you.
“Yeah, but you won’t tell me what you’re making for dinner,” you had that voice. The one that drove him crazy, and made him melt. You used it in your most comfortable state, and that filled his heart with so much warmth.
“Quit eating the cheese,” he warns you without looking. “It’s Tuscan gnocchi.”
“You’re putting spinach in it, huh?” Letting go of your leg, he turns around to smile at you. Your quirks make you that much more appealing. He just wanted to keep you in his pocket to protect you. “I don’t like spinach.”
“You can’t even taste it.”
“Then why are you putting it in there? It makes no sense whatsoever if you can’t taste it..”
“Do you trust me?” He asks, removing the pan off the burner. Turning off the stove he turns around to look at you, and you shake your head no. “You better trust me,” his voice darkens in a playful way, and your belly gets all fluttery with the pesky butterflies.
“Or what? What are you going to — ahhh!” You scream as he picks up your body to sling over his shoulder.. Carrying you into the living room, and dumps you onto the couch. His hands extend above your body, and he wiggles his fingers. It only means one thing. “Bucky don’t! The food!”
“No. You know, Shy, you asked for this.”
“No, I didn’t! Bucky, no!” You roll out from under him onto the floor, and you jump up quickly. Avoiding the tickles that he was threatening. “Aha! I defeated you!”
“If I really didn’t want you to escape me, you wouldn’t,” he taunts you, taking a slow and calculated step towards you.
“Or maybe I’m just that good.”
“Really?” You giggle nodding your head as he takes another step. “We’ll see about that,” you didn’t like the sound of that one bit. You knew Bucky was more than capable, but there is something about that chase. “Run, Shy.”
“Ahh!” Screaming as you run past him and on the other side of the coffee table. “Missed me.”
“I wanted to.”
“That’s what they all say when they just can’t — woah! No cheating,” your cheeks burn by how large you are smiling. Running throughout the house while Bucky slowly stalks after you. “Your arms are longer than mine, it’s not even fair.”
“What’s not fair is the advantage I have given you. I could catch you anytime I want.”
“Oof,” he pulls you roughly into his hard body. Wrapping both arms around you, and holding you so close to him. “You cheated.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” your chest heaves with his close proximity as you gaze up into his silvery eyes. “Why are you trembling, Shy girl?”
“I’m not,” you are. You always do when he gets close to you. Your body yearned for him. Screamed out his name whenever he got too close. And your mind told you not to mess up a good thing. “I’m not.”
“You know what I love about you living here?”
“What’s that?”
“I love hearing your laugh. Listening to your ideas on what you’re working on. Even if it’s your ridiculously pretty handwriting on napkins that are scattered around the house somewhere. I love coming home, and you and Alpine are taking your afternoon nap asleep on the couch, and you only wake up when you smell me cooking. I love that you also don’t count anymore.”
“I do, too,” Bucky scrunches up his nose, shaking his head no. “I’ve got it down to counting to three. But I still count,” his face moves a tiny bit closer to you, and you gulp. There isn’t anywhere to go. He had you in a death grip, and your heart in a chokehold.
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” You blurt out, making his movements towards you stop.
“Why would I want to date? No one would put up with what I do, and you,” you had feared he didn’t date because you lived here with him. Your heart sinks a tiny bit thinking that he thought you were holding back.
“I could…you know, I could always leave,” you can’t even look at him after you suggest that. You didn’t want to be anywhere that he wasn’t. But you also couldn’t risk ruining the friendship that the two of you have.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Why? Is this an Alpine thing?”
“No,” he whispers as his eyes dart to look at your lips, and your chest starts heaving. You are an observer, and you couldn’t miss that motion. It’s something you had been hoping for.
One. Two. Three.
“This is definitely a you thing,” his husky voice whispers as his lips hover above your own. He is so close, and neither of you dare to move in any other direction.
One. Two. Three.
He was not suggesting what you are thinking. Bucky is always a straightforward guy. If he meant anything more than what your brain was making up in your head he would say something.
“And a me thing,” he adds. He was suggesting what you were thinking. But now the reality of it was crashing in on you. Making your chest heavy, and your palms sweaty.
“One. Two. Three.”
“Shh, you’re counting out loud,” before you can get out another word, his lips press softly against your own. One sweet chaste little kiss, and you start to see stars. “Breathe, Shy. I can stop if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to,” your words are barely audible as your hand snakes up his chest, and settles behind his neck. Pulling him closer to you, and you slot your lips against his. “I don’t want you to ever stop,” your lips are right against his, and he lifts you up. Holding you tight against his chest and your legs settle around his waist, while the two of you discover each other again.
This time is so much more intimate. Innocent open mouth kisses until his tongue tickles against your lips, and you whimper out his name. He softly pushes your back up against the wall as your tongue meets his. Tasting the cigarette he had before he walked inside, and craving even more. Ready to devour him. Sinking into him, and feeling like home.
You have never had this much love and comfort in your life. Bucky was dangerous to everyone, except you. He was soft. He was perfect. He was your everything. “Dinner’s gonna get cold.”
“Bucky!”
“Shy, I don’t want to stop. But if I don’t, I’m going to have you laying on the floor, while I have my way with you, and you deserve more than that.”
“What if that’s what I wanted?” He shakes his head no, but you give a roll to your hips. “I do.”
“You do right now because your hormones are running rampant. Baby, I don’t want to just have sex with you. I want us to be our everything. I can’t have just sex with. I need you to love every part of me. Even the bad parts because I’m not changing who I am and…”
“You know I love you, Bubba,” he knows the care you have for him. The excitement you feel when he comes home. But he wants your entire soul to be fused with his.
“I don’t want that kind of love. I love you, Shy, but I need…I want to fall in love with you, and if we continue down this path is going to be us fucking, and end up hating each other. I can’t do that. I won’t lose you.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means we’re going to have dinner, and this weekend, I’m going to take you on a date.”
Alpine hisses, jumping onto your stomach as she gets in a defensive pose, looking at the door. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, focusing on Bucky. He never barged in the house like that. Alpine, now satisfied with the lack of intruder in the house, nuzzles back on your belly, and you search Bucky’s face confused.
“Bubba?” He grits his teeth, looking at anything but you. “Bub, where have you been?”
“Steve’s,” he whispers, stomping into the kitchen where he pulls out a bottle of beer. Throwing the lid into the garbage before sitting on the couch. Didn’t care that Alpine growls more than purrs when he pulls you into his lap. Nursing his beer while holding you tightly.
“He’s lost his fucking mind. He branded her. Put a goddamn tattoo of his mark on her neck, and she didn’t ask him to. He brought someone new to his house where he wants to keep her. His house was supposed to be a secret, but no, let's tell everyone where you plan on taking the one person that could even attempt to soften him up. And what happens when he gets soft, he gets harder. He’s scared of his own emotions, and that fear could have just…she won’t forgive him.”
Pursing out your lips, you don’t know the best approach to help Bucky. You just want him to work his thoughts out, while you listen. Pulling his metal arm up to your chest, you hug it. It was one of his least favorite things about himself, but it was one of your favorites.
“He was getting there, Shy. I know he was. And he had to prove to himself he wasn’t actually falling for that girl, so he goes and makes her hate him. That way when he officially breaks her, it’s that much more of a challenge to him. He’s fucking fucked in the brain.”
“You’re gonna have to work on not cursing so much, Bubba,” you whisper, nuzzling more into him.
“And then he had the fucking audacity to mention you, and…I hate him. He’s never had anyone that has ever called him out on his shit, but me and Sam. And then he dismissed me like it was nothing. Now he’s got Sam, but Steve — you know he has this tendency to trust the people he’s hired, and you just fucking can’t. Not with her. She’s defenseless, and wreckless, and pushes his and everyone else’s buttons, and…”
“How is she?” Bucky looks down at you, before smacking the arm of the chair. “What happened?” He shakes his head no, leaning back on the couch. He was always trying to protect you from the reality of his world. But you want to be there for him, like he is for you. “Bub, I knew when we got involved seriously what kind of world you lived in. If we’re going to be a family, I want to know.”
“He made her watch in a mirror as he fucked her with a gun.”
“You know that’s an actual kink, right?” He lifts up, to stare down at you. “I don’t want your gun anywhere near us. But that is an actual kink. When she called, did she mention if she enjoyed it? That girl is just as sick and twisted as he is. But did he go too far?”
“He just said her cum was dried on his gun. But…no, she didn’t tell me if she enjoyed it,” he makes his scrunched thinking face while he contemplates everything that had happened tonight.
“Maybe she’s too ashamed to admit she did. Maybe she didn’t. But you said he tattooed her neck?” He nods his head before letting it drop back on the couch, and stares up at the ceiling. The idea of whether you loved or hated that part of the evening. “So what’s going on now? What did she say when she called you?”
“That…” Bucky squints his eyes as he watches the blades of the ceiling fan. “That her and Steve were never going to be able to get rid of each other. That he marked her, and — she wants to make him pay. But there’s only one way to make him pay when it comes to her.”
“Bucky?” He sits back up again, his mouth turning up into a smile, “Did you say he dismissed you?” When he nods, your head tilts to the side because you know that Bucky and Steve run deeper than a business partnership. They were a part of each other. Twin flames that burned brightly together. “What does that mean?”
“You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”
“And I want you to see a lot more of me,” you let your robe fall off your shoulder, exposing your naked body underneath, “And we’ve got to get used to not having sex all over the house. So let’s take this into the bedroom.”
“What are you up to?” He gives you a smirk as you let your dressing gown fall to the floor in a fluffy heap. “You’re naked in front of our daughter.”
“I sleep naked, James,” an animalistic growl emerges from his chest. That name always got to him. “And now I’m going to ride my fiancé until he comes, and he lets his brain stop for a moment.”
“Why does my brain need to stop?” You pull him by his shirt down the hallway. Swatting away his hand when he tries to touch your soft curves. “My sweet Shy girl, why do you need my brain to stop?”
“Because you deserve it. Now, take off your clothes, and get in the bed, please, James. I need to see all of you,” Bucky needs to see you as well. Stumbling about to get out of his clothes. His cock bouncing up once it’s free from its confines. “Get on the bed, Bubba.”
“Yes, ma’am. I like this side of you. Talk to Steve once and,” crawling onto the bed, your hand presses against his mouth, and you shake your head no. Straddling him, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slick.
“What we’re not going to do right now is say that name. You’re going to lay there, and you’re going to enjoy what you’re looking at. If there is something that needs to be said, I will say it, do you understand?” His head nods rapidly, and you let your body take every inch of him.
Settling down your hands smooth up and down his chest. Giving yourself a moment to adjust while you admire how beautiful he is. All the ink and scars on his body make him even more beautiful. They told his story. It was a painful story. Starting to rock your body over him, your right hand runs down his metal arm, and he smirks up at you.
He knew it was a favorite of yours. He’d woken up enough times to find you hugging it. Smiling at your sleeping form as it finds comfort in the one thing that everyone else feared.
Whimpering, you start to bounce over his body, realizing he was the first person that you had ever loved completely. The only person who saw your flaws and loved you even harder because of them. Bucky was your person. The one you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and build something more beautiful than the life you were given.
Bucky’s hands drapes over your skin. Tracing over your softness as his fingers paint your curves. He couldn’t have created a more perfect woman. You saw past his anger, and his past. You didn’t look at him as something to cower in front of, you brought out that lighthearted part of him he thought that he had lost.
You were his everything. No one had ever meant more to him than you. It’s what Steve feared the most. Someone had become more important to Bucky than Steve. Steve could never replace you. And Bucky knew he wouldn’t die for Steve anymore. He needed to come home to you.
He whispers out your name as he stares up at you. Your chest heaving with exertion as you squeak out his name. “James,” tears start to roll down your cheeks, and he begins to sit up, ready to check on you, but you push him back down to the bed. “You stay there. I love you.”
“I love, Shy.”
“We love you.”
“I love Alpine, too,” you shake your head as the tears start to roll faster. “Shy?”
“Your baby loves you,” you gulp as both his hands press up against your stomach, and you nod your head. “I just found out this morning.”
“Shy, baby, we’re having a baby?” You can’t even speak, just smile, nodding your head. “That’s why Alpine was protecting your belly. She’s such a good girl. Just like you. Shy, you’re making me a daddy?”
“I’m trying to make you come,” your little giggle is stifled by your tears. Overwhelmed with emotions didn’t even describe it.
“Will the baby feel me?” If he wasn’t so serious, this wouldn’t be as cute. “Can our baby feel me inside you?”
“No! Bubba, people have sex when pregnant all the time. Shh, feel my breath. Breathe with me,” you bring his hands up to your chest, and move over him like it was your job. Smiling because he was going to make the best father that there ever was. He was going to be so protective, but oh so soft and loving.
Your breathing picks up, and Bucky’s does right along with you. Holding what you said to him seriously. Both of you breathe each other in as identical futures run through your minds. Beautiful lives that were birthed from two broken souls. Two souls that found each other, and were never going to be without each other again.
Your hands start trembling on his chest as your belly heats up. Pleasure courses through your veins as you get closer and closer to release. “There ya go, Shy. I’m almost there, baby. Let go. Let go for me.”
“James,” you whine, biting on your lip as your walls flutter around him. He grits his teeth as he gets closer to the edge. “James!” Your cunt clenches down tight around him, holding him in a death grip, and you sigh as his seed spurts deep inside of you. Turning your mouth up into a dopey smile as you look at him.
“God, you’re amazing, Shy.”
“And you’re a daddy, Bucky.”
You groan as the bedroom lights up and Bucky’s phone buzzes on the bedside table. Even your fluffy fur ball growls when you reach over Bucky to grab it. Rolling your eyes when you see Steve’s name, “What do you want?”
“I thought I called Bucky’s phone?” You sit up in the bed, getting a disgruntled meow from Alpine as she moves to the foot of the bed. “Is it — is it not?”
“It is, this is his fiancé, who is this?”
“Oh, this…has he not mentioned me? I’m — I don’t know what I am to Steve other than trapped in this bedroom, and he’s out there where the food is, and I’m starving,” Steve had found himself a whiny brat. “Do you think Bucky or you could bring me some food somehow?”
“He doesn’t work for Steve anymore,” you relax back in the bed, starting to run your fingers over Bucky’s metal one as it finds its way back your belly
“Oh, so I’m going to starve here?”
“Do you want to stay with Steve? Or are you done?”
“I said some things to him, but I…I don’t know,” Bucky wouldn’t get involved in Steve’s private affairs. That much you were sure of. If that stupid girl didn’t know if she didn’t want to be with Steve or not, you wouldn’t either. “He hurt me.”
“Would you have gotten that tattoo if he asked?”
“Yes,” absolutely no hesitation. “I sound stupid. I like him, and I like what he does to me, but I think he just wants this sick fantasy of popping my cherry, and then he’s going to be done with me.”
“No, he won’t. Steve doesn’t have to work for sex. He could pick any girl at that club to suck him off whenever he wanted to. He’s working on you. You’ve piqued his sick interests, and you’re just as sick as him. You get it?”
“Bucky acted like you were shy,” you are. More so with men. But this woman was threatening the peace you and Bucky are creating. Her and Steve were like chaos junkies.
“Is he asleep?” You could hear her rustling around with the door, and giving a little peek.
“Yes.”
“Then sneak and get food. If that man wanted to get to you, he would have. For whatever reason, he’s given you some weird form of boundaries. Get food, and figure out what you want. If you want him,” you take a deep breath as you stare at your sleeping fiancé. He didn’t want to admit the power that you had over Steve. Men could be blind to the power of a woman, especially the power radiating out from between their legs.
“If I want him, what?” Her voice is frazzled, willing to listen to whatever it is you were going to tell her. She had to have known. But maybe she didn’t understand the way that Steve was.
“If he’s giving you that space, you’re the one that owns him.”
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#your mark on me#bucky barnes#bucky x shy#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fics#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes smut#sebastian stan#sebastian stan character
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Yandere Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick round robin part 4 WIP
With my evil geniuses @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake 😈😈😘😘
Readers: this is our working doc for part 4. If you're new here, see the Masterlist (it's at the bottom), and WARNING, doves are dropping dead everywhere around here!! NSFW, yandere sh!t, 18+, plz take care!
They’re trying to kill you.
That is the thought that plays through your mind as Tex takes you to the top of the mountain with that wicked tongue, only to pull back at the last moment. Again, and again, he drives you to madness with long hard licks and wet little flicks over your clit, two of those thick fingers buried inside your needy little cunt. The bed is soaked beneath you; your thighs have begun to tremble uncontrollably; your throat is hoarse from the violence of the moans he forces from your throat.
That you could be a stone, hard and unyielding and unaffected by any of this.
But you’re just a woman made of flesh and blood, and these two men may as well have read the book on how exactly to stretch you down that fine line between heaven and hell.
After edging you for the umpteenth time Tex wipes his mouth your thigh with a satisfied smirk, those dark eyes burning up at you. “You ready for me, honey?”
You know you resemble a haggard and small creature of the woods, your eyes huge and tear-filled as you look up at him. You should be proud, that a part of you still wants to tell him to go to hell. But some little voice warns you from the back of your head, that you wouldn’t survive it.
Language isn’t really working for you right now. All you can manage is a plaintive whine that makes him smirk down at you. Someday you bargain with yourself. Someday, you’ll figure out how to make them pay for this. But right now…you’re helpless. And so you might as well…
Your thoughts stop dead as Tex unzips his jeans. Your gaze follows that leading line of dark hair down, and you lay eyes on just what this man has in store for you. You’re not sure if the whimper you make is out of anticipation, or fear.
“Shh,” says John from behind you. You hadn’t forgotten about him, of course, his hands still full of your breasts. “You’ll be fine.” Easy for him to say, and from the firm bulge that keeps pressing your cheek with your head in his lap, you can tell he’s not going to be any easier on you either.
Tex sizes you up with that smoldering gaze, as though he’s plotting something nefarious. Just that look makes you ache all over again, even while you tremble with nerves.
“Goddamn,” he grumbles, almost to himself as he pumps himself in his hand, spreading the beads of precum from his tip. “You sure you don’t want a piece of this, Johnny?”
You’re not really sure what he means by that, and you look up at John with wide eyes, what has become your knee-jerk reaction when you seek assurance, or mercy. You forgot that right now, at least, he has none left for you. His sharp look aimed down at you is nothing less than that of a hungry wolf.
“Would you do that for me, sweet girl?” he asks, stroking you from the tips of your nipples up to your hair. That one touch makes you writhe, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk.
With those big hands on your hips Tex flips you onto all fours, manhandling you into position exactly as he pleases. As he presses his length against the seam of your buttocks, grinding, your arms already begin to shake.
When John unzips his pants you begin to understand what they have in mind.
“Think you can handle us both, darlin’?” asks Tex, his hand lightly smoothing over the curve of your freshly bruised ass.
“She can do it,” John answers for you, sweeping your hair away from your face to turn your eyes up to his. He kisses you, coaxing you with his tongue, dragging your lower lip lightly with his teeth. “For me?” You hate yourself so much, for finding that you don’t want to disappoint him. You blink up at him, at a loss for words. But just slightly, you feel yourself nod, and he smiles at you like you have just signed your soul away to this wicked man.
With hands bracketing your head he guides you down to his massive erection. You take the velvety soft skin of his glans like a strawberry between your lips, licking messily before his light fingers on the back of your head guide you down. Simultaneously you savor Tex’s thick tip at your weeping entrance, your aching pussy craving to be stretched and ruined, before slowly he slides himself inside. He’s damn near gentle with you at first, as much as he can be with a cock like a weapon of massive destruction. Maybe it’s because of the mouthful you’ve got on the other end, or maybe…he’s savoring it too.
“Such a sweet little pussy,” he groans, working himself inside. “So tight and wet for me. Fuck.” Your answering moan is echoed all around, the cause and effect of Tex’s thrust driving you deeper onto John’s cock, to the very back of your throat, making you gag a little. The back and forth of it would almost have been comical, if not for the bone-melting madness overtaking the three of you in your quest for that ultimate release. For the moment your enmity with these men is forgotten. There is just flesh, and friction, and the promise of something absolutely incandescent on the horizon.
When Tex’s thick fingers slide between your legs to tease your nub you double down, clenching him fiercely inside you, so desperate to cum. It makes him swear behind you, pinching your clit in revenge. You see stars, so close to finally going to pieces. “Gaddamn, honey. I think you’d break a lesser man with that thing.”
You can’t tell him to shut up, so you moan in answer, the vibration on John’s cock causing him to buck up into your mouth, his long fingers grasping at your hair. You push your ass further up in the air in offering, tilting your hips, chasing your pleasure on Tex’s fingers with his manhood filling you to the hilt, and you minding your teeth all the while. Who knew you were such a champion multitasker? You deserved a fucking medal.
Tex’s thrusts grow more erratic behind you. His voice has dropped an octave, turned to pure gravel as he asks, “You close, baby?”
You’re not sure how he interprets your answering groan, but when his hips snap against you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed, it’s exactly the angle and the pressure you need. The explosion of scintillating warmth fills your womb and spreads outward, all the way to the tips of your fingers. John’s strong hands on your shoulders are all that save you from collapsing on him, as he spills salty cum into your mouth. You shudder with your aftershocks as you swallow him down, Tex’s fingers gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.
To say you collapse is an understatement. The three of you lay curled together as though you are nearly dead, unable to move for several minutes more. It’s John who recovers first, not shy about kissing you with his mitt of a hand holding your cheek, sliding down your neck, then teasing your nipple. You cry out for the overstimulation, squirming away, and Tex’s broad chest rumbles with low laughter behind you.
“See,” says Tex sleepily, always having to get in the last word. “I knew you’d cum ‘round.”
“If I could move, I would kick you,” you grumble, even as you nestle down on his arm beneath you, the swell of his bicep your pillow.
“Sticks and stones, rattlesnake,” he fires back softy into your hair, just this side of the line between awake and asleep.
“I’m going to gag you both,” John threatens, sounding just as tired, his hand on your waist. When you look to him through heavy lashes you see the slight curve of his smile, his dark eyes all for you.
You all fall into a deep slumber before he has to make good on the threat.
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points at @treedaddymcpuffpuff This is all her fault! 🤣 Batter up @sweetwolfcupcake :)))))))))))))))))))))))))
#john wick#tex johnson#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#yandere john wick#yandere tex johnson#tex johnson x you#im so sorry :))))))))))
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"...don't look at me like that."
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WARNINGS: Workplace verbal abuse, Mean!Strauss, mention of neglectful mother, mention of crying in the bathroom, pet names ("sweet boy"/"sweetheart"), self-insult (I think?), kissing on the neck and lips
WORDS: 1,236
PAIRING: S.R. x m!reader
SONG(s):
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You sit at your desk, a small stream of tears pouring down your cheeks from your dead-gazed, tired eyes. Strauss has been yelling at you for the past thirty minutes, somehow only finding more creative ways to make you feel bad about yourself every other sentence. You've been at work for three, maybe four days straight with barely any breaks. Yet, she found out that you took a ten minute break because you were on the verge of a breakdown. JJ's son, Henry, is visiting her on the job and seeing how their bond was the exact thing you hoped for as a child with your own mother just hit the right nerve to push you to tears. You had to take a break, narrowly avoiding the breakdown only because the second you made it into the restroom stall it suddenly felt like you couldn't cry.
Strauss only shuts up when her phone rings, giving you one last "I expect better" before she walks off to answer the call, talking to whoever in the most kiss-assingly gentle tone ever.
You remain staring at the file she slammed on your desk within her rant, there lays a shredded paper within the yellow-tint file that you instantly recognize as the one hand written thing you felt somewhat proud of. Your tears only roll faster, leaving light red stains on your pale cheeks.
Spencer walks up behind you, his hand grasping at the back of your swivel chair before turning you to face him. He puts his curled index finger underneath your chin, slowly pulling your head to look up at him. Your tear-filled gaze full of nothing but exhaustion and dread meets his lovingly worried one. Somehow, you manage to cry even harder at how gentle he is treating you even though he's barely done anything. His gaze softening pulls a soft sob from you as you begin to completely break down.
"please.. please, don't look at me like that." You plead quietly, only to hear the sound of him gently shushing you as he cups the back of your head and guide you to press your face against his abdomen, holding you as you break down. His cardigan muffles the sobs that fall from your trembling lips as you nuzzle your face into him, his fingers beginning to run through your hair as he shushes you soothingly. Though, he isn't telling you to be quiet by any means since it's almost one in the morning, meaning nobody else is here to witness you in your most vulnerable state. thankfully. He is simply soothing you the way you wish you were when you were young, crying probably as hard as you are right now when your mother left you on the doorstep of a Liquor store.
You cry even harder at the memory, your chest contorting as you begin to choke from the sheer force of your sobs. The sound of your strangled cries causes him to bend down to your level, resting his hands on each side of your face as he begins to kiss your tears away, his gentle lips soaking up the salty tears. "My sweet boy.. Shh, I've got you.. I swear, I'll hold you as long as you need me to." He promises, his voice quiet and deep, the gentlest tone you've ever heard. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your head into his chest as you continue to let out choked sobs. "I'm sorry. m' so sorry." You apologize, merely for nothing, just feeling sorry. Sorry that he has to deal with you in such a state, Sorry that he probably feels like he has to, Sorry that he still ended up having to work overtime to complete his files even though you took on triple the amount just so everybody could get off early to go spend time with their loved ones and families. Though, if you asked him, he'd probably tell you the truth; He's just here to be with you. "You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart. You went above and beyond to make everyone else happy, can I do the same for you? Can I try to make you happy?" Spencer asks sweetly, the way he talks to you so.. lovingly, it's making your heart swell with love and shatter at the same time. All you can do is nod your head and move your hands to wipe away your tears, though the man you have the honor of calling yours grabs your wrists and slides his hands into yours, grasping them gently and pulling your hands so he can kiss your knuckles. His soft lips pressed against the knuckles full of small paper-cut like indents of your left hand, the small cuts from when you found out your thumbnail is just long enough that you can pinch your skin and inflict harm without drawing blood, the sight makes the corners of your lips turn up to make that of a small sad smile. He kisses the knuckles on your right hand, no miniscule cuts littered along the skin this time. His lips ghost their way up your arm, and you swear you can feel his warm breath through the fabric of your suit shirt. He reaches your shoulder and begins to place butterfly kisses along it, his hands guiding yours to rest on his own shoulders.
You let out a small sigh of contentment, your head automatically tipping back when his lips reach your neck. Spencer presses a small kiss to the crook of your neck, trailing up and over to where your Adams apple sticks out, seeing the way it bobs when you swallow down some spit. His hands find their way on the back of your head, pressing you into him as his lips press against the bulge of your throat. He gives it a long kiss, exhaling through his nose. He pulls off of it when he feels you tug on his shirt with a needy whine, looking up to meet your pleading gaze. "You want a kiss?" Spencer asks, though knowing the answer before you even nod your head. He leans up, letting his lips meet yours in a moment full of love and care, your eyes slipping shut as you whine into the kiss, wanting him to be impossibly closer. Your small noise pulls a chuckle from the man, his lips unlacing with yours, though he doesn't stray far. His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your eyes to open.
It's a few seconds later but your eyes slowly flutter open, meeting his gaze. "Hey there." Spencer greets with a smile, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek, giving it a gentle caress. "Hey." You whisper back, a smile forming on your face to match his. "..What are you up to?" He asks, both of your smiles only growing at his joke of a question. You lean back with a small laugh. "No longer feeling like I'm dying." You say, a huff of laughter falling from Spencer's perfect lips. "That's good. Means I did something right with that kiss, hm?" The man replies, giving you a quick peck. Your cheeks flush a little red, the smile so big by now your cheeks hurt, but you don't mind. At least they hurt because of him, his love being something you wouldn't care if it killed you.
#Spotify#spencer reid#spencer reid x male reader#m!reader#x male reader#bau!reader#mean!strauss#comfort#comfort fic#x reader#Hotboxed Thoughts Written#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds
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✧ ˚ ﹙ bartender!sevika kinks﹚ ⅄
﹙★﹚Bondage: i don’t make the rules. Sevika is tying you up when you take her strap. whether it be your hands tied to the headboard, or having your arms tied behind your back when you ride her. she loves to watch you squirm in her lap, babbling and whimpering random words, begging & pleading for her to give you more. her hands tightly perched on your hips, metal fingers digging into your soft skin, trying to keep you still so you can feel just how deep she is. the only rule? you can’t touch. “Shh, there you go Sweetheart. doing so good, my good girl”
﹙★﹚Blindfold: Sevika knows how much you love watching her go down on you. the way her grey eyes sparkle up at you, that subtle smirk across her lips but oh, she just loves teasing you so what’s better than having you blindfolded? not being able to see your favorite sight? not being able to see the way she licks her lips, biting down on the soft, plump flesh when she catches you watching her? and not even being able to see the way your slick and her spit drip her chin? poor baby, she’s tormenting you. “Aw, look at you. whining because you can’t see me, patience Sweet”
﹙★﹚Breeding: it’s always her fantasy. especially when she’s got your face pushed against all the pillows, her hands gripping your hips, and her eyes are so fixated on the way your cunt takes her strap so greedily. god the obscene, absurd, thoughts that swim through her mind at every moan, whine and whimper that slips past your pretty lips. she’s borderline animalistic at all the things she wants to do to you, to the sounds she wants to hear you make. “God look at you, taking my strap so good, fuck.. gonna fuck a baby into you, gonna let me baby? yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you, Sweetheart?”
﹙★﹚Choking: riding her? she’s got her metal hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to tear those pretty sounds from you as you bounce on her strap. on all fours? don’t worry, she’s still going to have her hand around your throat, pulling you against her chest, fucking you harder. her ultimate favorite though? is when you’re laying on your back, gripping at the wrist she has around your throat, nails clawing at her skin, eyes rolling back and her pace is so fast, rough, and yet so gentle. she loves how her marks litter your pretty skin, and it’s a daily reminder you are hers. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with my marks on you. gotta show everyone you’re not theirs to touch. you’re all mine. only I can touch and fuck you like this”
﹙★﹚Wax play: This is self-explanatory but she loves to pour it on your tits, especially if they are more sensitive than other times. she gets off on the small little whimpers you let out, the pleads for her to do something, or when you ask for more. loves to watch the way your chest heaves. how your hand grips the wrist she’s got between your legs she’s sadistic yes, but she wouldn’t do anything to put you in harm’s way. if you want to stop, she will. you’re still her Sweetheart, and your safety comes before anything. “Doing so well, i promise Sweet. my pretty little thing”
﹙★﹚Exhibitionism: she’s risky, she literally takes life by the balls and goes with it. Sevika loves to touch you, she doesn’t care where she is, or what you’re both doing. if she needs you, she will find a way around it and have you. if she’s working behind the bar, and notices you walking around all pouty then she’s going to whisk you away. her favorite place right now is the storage room, having you on the old wooden desk, one of her hands wrapped around your throat, and 2 fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. very aware anyone could walk in and see you all fucked out on her fingers. she gets off on it, she loves the thrill of someone catching you both doing something so dirty. doesn’t even bother trying to hide all the sounds you’re making, be as loud as you want, she fuckin loves it. “you’re so dirty, letting me have my way with you when you know anyone could come in here and find us like this. so dumb and fucked out just from my fingers”
﹙★﹚Praise: baby loves when you praise her. she loves to hear how good she’s making you feel. if she’s fucking you with her strap, she keens when you tell her how good she is, how full she’s making you feel. will become a literal flustered mess at the way you whisper into her ear, all breathless and whiny when calling her your good girl. all she wants to do is please you and take care of you. if she’s fucking you with her fingers, she’s damn near drooling at the sight of you, barely able to talk other than repeating 'so good' and 'like that baby, doing so well'
﹙★﹚Edging: when you’re in bed with her, you’re not gonna cum for a while. she knows your body better than anyone, even you. she knows exactly when you need to cum, yet she’s a little deviant and won't let you. Sevika can spend hours between your legs, fucking you slowly with her fingers until you’re clutching at her hair, and legs shaking over her shoulders. it’s when she smirks that you know she’s gonna stop, leaving you there to whine and complain you need to cum, baby just loves playing with you so much. loves to see how long you can go, and how long you can hold off for. “don’t be a brat, let me play with you, Sweetheart. haven’t seen you all day. missed you”
﹙★﹚Katoptronophilia: mirrors! she’s fucking you against the dresser, metal fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to watch your reflection. loves to see you watch the way her hand grips your hip tightly, how your makeup is all smudged, your mascara is streaking down your face and your spit running down your chin. your lips all red and puffy from the shared kisses between the both of you. it’s another sight she gets off to. just seeing you so breathless, hands gripping onto any part of her you can, trying to steady yourself because of her rough, hard pace. “Look. Look at how fuckin desperate you are, Sweetness. So desperate and so greedy for me”
#sevika#arcane sevika#sevika imagine#sevika x you#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#sevika smut#arcane#arcane smut#bartender!sevika
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bloom
four
eddie hates waking up at the ass crack of dawn! though over the last few years he’s use to it, doesn’t mean he likes it. he knew the price of being a rockstar though.
eddie’s willing to sacrifice his sleep schedule to make it big time. he also just misses his family. the band had left for new york three nights ago. he missed the sound of laughter from his babies, the smell of yn perfume, even missed his soon to be father in law banging on their door at god knows what hour.
he couldn’t wait to see them in just a few more days. eddie made sure to call yn as soon as he could. he knew she’d be busy tending to the kids. he still made it his mission to talk to them every single day!
last night he almost cried himself to sleep. lunaria has always been a daddy’s girl. she didn’t want to let her daddy get off the phone. she cried and cried until eddie sung her to sleep. he almost left right then and there to go cuddle his baby! yn had to talk him out of it.
eddie grabs his cell and immediately dialed yn number.
“hello?”
“you still asleep love?”
“no.” she states quickly.
eddie frowns. he could tell something was wrong.
“baby, is everything okay?”
“mhm.”
eddie didn’t believe her.
“miss hopper?”
eddie listens closely and hears a little bit of noise in the background.
“mama?” lily whines.
“shh, im here baby. its okay.”
“yn, what is going on?!”
yn sighs. “lily’s running a fever. had to take her to the hospital.”
eddie sits up in a frantic.
“what?! when?”
eddie looks at the time.
“babe, its nothing to worry about. she’s okay.”
“baby, im coming home!”
“ed—”
“yn! you’re at the hospital for god sakes!”
yn sighs. “eddie, i promise she’s okay. the doctors prescribing her some medicine! she’ll be better this afternoon.”
eddie runs his finger through his hair. he keeps forgetting its shorten. 
“may i at least talk to her?”
yn scoffs. “sure, if you wanna hear nothing but snot and baby language.” yn tries to cheer him up. unfortunately the only thing that would make him happy is being there with his family.
“daddy wants to talk to you, baby.”
“dada?” lily points to the phone.
yn puts the phone on speaker. “you’re on speaker, babe.”
“lily, how’s my girl doing?”
“sick.”
eddie could see her pouting.
“i know baby. im sorry! i promise when i get home, daddy’s gonna give you lots and lots of cuddles angel.”
she babbles. eddie smiles sadly.
“love you so much, lily-pad! you’re my angel.”
“wuv, dada.”
eddie heart soars. yn takes the phone off speaker. “im sorry i didn’t tell you. i just—”
“baby, i need to know these things, okay? i know you’re just trynna help, i do, and i appreciate it so much, my love. its just—it stresses me out even more when i don’t know. you and the kids, they come first! fuck the music. my family is first, always.” eddie states.
“im sorry.”
eddie sighs. “where are my other babies?”
“with uncle steve.”
“call me when you get home, okay? wanna make sure you’re all okay!”
“okay, eds! i love you.”
eddie will never get tired of hearing her say those three little words. “i love you, baby.”
“eddie, its time to go!”
“go ahead rockstar! ill talk to you soon.”
“bye, beautiful.” eddie ends the call soon after.
#eddie munson x black!reader#eddie munson x reader#jqhotchner#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem reader#modern eddie munson#eddie munson x reader fluff#jqhotchner masterlist#eddie munson x yn#dad!eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#dad!harry styles x reader#bloom jqhotchner
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It has occurred to me that I could turn the whole “Kass defeats her high rank demon darling” into a sex thing because even though her demon darling is stronger, her Darling just can’t help but play the role of one who gets so easily defeated and really shouldn’t have gotten that powerful in the first place since it was so easy for Kass to take it from them. So obviously Kass deserves it more, fucking her darling into the mattress as she delicately removes the wings, kissing where they once were and oh gods, I need it.
♡ Kassien Ripping Your Wings Off Before Sex ♡
(I didn't get to the real banging cause I liked the foreplay spo much I wanted to leave it as is.)
It was deeply shameful, not something that should have ever occured when you were the stronger out of you and your mate but here you were naked and wrapped in chains, your face pressed against the mattress as your soulmate, ass up for her viewing pleasure, someone meant to be weaker than you, gently stroked the base of your wings , delighting in how they fluttered softly but were slowly weakening due to the chains wrapped around your body. Four wings and the start of what might have been a fifth one if you continued to grow in power which was growing against your left upper wing to fortify it.
"I thought for sure it wouldn't have worked, if I had known something like these was out there I would have asked for this much sooner..." Her claw dug into the base of one of your wings chuckling as you winced in pain. "Don't worry sweetness, it'll be over soon and then I'll protect you from pain for as long as we both shall live."
You screamed in pain as she ripped the one with another growing from it off seemingly wanting to get the worst out of it out of the way. You knew you wouldn't die or even faint from the pain and blood loss but that still didn't make this any better. This was humiliating, you were an upper ranked demon, you weren't supposed to lose to someone who only had two wings, it was torment knowing the soulmate you were supposed to dominate and protect was now flipping the situation.
"Shh, that's one, or I guess one and a half? I can't wait to eat this later, lovely, you'll cook them up for me, won't you? I can't wait for my sweet mate to serve me up her wings." You whimpered and tried to shake your head but she started to run a finger along the first wound causing you to flinch from how badly it stung. "Alright we'll do the next two quick, I'll do the two bottom ones."
You bit into the pillow beneath you as she ripped the other two off together and you became aware how her strap was now lined up to penetrate you any second now. You let out a sob into the pillow, with only one left you were worse than a mid ranked demon, there was nothing special about you, you'd always had no demon powers outside your wings despite being upper ranked and now without your wings you'd basically be the same as a human who had been turned into a demon with no power in the slightest.
"Alright last one and then I'll spoil you, ready?" She was going to do it whether or not you were ready, it just seemed polite to at least ask. She yanked it off as she thrust her strap into you fully, she'd used the largest size as well, you were upper rank yesterday so she felt you could handle it even though now you were stripped of it with her wings placed off to the side. At this point you just gave into her brutal pounding, the humiliation was over there was no point in crying or screaming as she licked and kissed up the wounds on your back. At least you would have the scars there to prove you'd once been upperrank unless she insisted on getting those removed too somehow. Oh well, right now you had to figure out how you were going to cook wings tomorrow, you could try to eat your own wings again but she'd likely rip them off again and so it was best to just let her eat them.
#yandere oc#yandere lesbian#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere asks#yandere scenarios#my oc kassien
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Security - Honor (Interlude)
summary: Din and Astra finally discuss what’s next for their family of four, a topic that’s harder to cover than they both expected.
timeline: A month or so after the events of the TBOBF finale.
warnings: references to past trauma, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff
rating: T
word count: 3.548k
previous ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next (season 3)
honor (interlude)
Din never fails to wake at Zora’s cries, no matter how much his caring wife tries to muffle them. This instance—the second time this morning, with Tatooine’s two suns still far from rising—is no different, though it’s not Zora’s crying that makes Din’s alertness grow. It’s the strain in Astra’s voice as she attempts to calm their daughter.
“Shh, Zora,” she pleads. “It’s all right. Your family needs rest.”
It’s unlike Zora to not listen to her mother, but she’s still only a few months old. Din’s had to remind himself of that many times. She may have an ability that surpasses the understanding of both Astra and himself, but just like her brother, she’s just a child.
And his wife is a tired mother in need of relief.
Din rises from the bed and makes his way over to where Astra and Zora stand at one of the luxurious bedroom’s windows. The look Astra gives him floods him with the urge to make everything in the galaxy stop, if only to provide her with even just a moment of peace. She gives her head an aimless shake.
“I don’t know why she’s upset,” says Astra, keeping her voice soft so as to not wake their other child. She furrows her brow and looks back down at their crying daughter. “I fed her, I changed her, I told her that story she always likes, and I even…”
“Cyar’ika.” Din sets a reassuring hand on her back and earns her gaze back. Astra’s eyes are burdened, with dark rings beginning to form underneath them. She’s stronger than he’ll ever be, but even she has her limits. Din presses a lingering kiss to her forehead and waits until he hears her soft exhale to pull away. “May I?” He gestures to Zora.
With a nod and a small smile, Astra hands their daughter over to him. Din returns her smile and takes Zora in his arms as carefully as he did the day she was born.
“All right, Zozo,” Din coos. “Relax, baby girl. We’re all right.” He presses his forehead against hers, pleased when her cries start to soften. There’s a look in her small brown eyes that tells Din everything he needs to know.
Din holds a heavy breath in his chest and feels the ever-present knot within it tighten. He should’ve known better than to think he could hide from both Astra and his daughter. His wife knows him too well, and Zora is always in tune with both of them.
“Don’t worry, okay?” whispers Din. “I’ll tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Din can feel his wife’s gaze on him before he even looks over at her. There’s a new pinch in her brow, one that makes Din’s chest tighten with frustration and worry he can only direct towards himself. He forces himself to try to relax when Zora’s cries start to escalate again. There’s no doubt she’s sensed his restlessness from the moment Din’s conflicted thoughts started to surface.
“I have to go, you know,” Din finally speaks up while he rests Zora upon the warmth of his bare shoulder. He clarifies before Astra can make her bewildered response. “To Mandalore.”
Astra’s disbelieving eyes give him a once-over. “You mean, we have to go.”
Din tightens his jaw and looks away from her. “Astra…”
“Isn’t the planet destroyed?” Astra speaks on all the same thoughts Din’s had in recent days and he prepares himself to hear the same excuses he keeps trying to make for himself. “How are you supposed to go underneath a destroyed planet?” She holds his chin and urges him to look at her again. “And for what? Redemption you don’t need?”
“Rid’ika, please.” Din refuses to be firm, instead favoring the gentleness she needs. He lifts a hand from Zora to grasp Astra’s wrist and remove her hand from his face. His fingers entwine with her own. “I understand how impractical it seems. But… we know people who can help us, people who already plan on venturing there.” Din studies her gaze and fails to find the reassurance he’s looking for. “I have to try.”
Astra raises her chin. “Well, we’re going with you. There’s no more separating us.”
Din holds back his soft sigh. As much as he wants to speak about the danger it poses for them, Astra’s right. Their times of separation have led to nothing but further danger, from Astra and Grogu being abducted by Gideon to Zora being at risk of the very same thing in Mos Eisley. “All right.”
“Are you doing this because of the Darksaber’s responsibilities,” adds Astra, “or for your redemption?” The way she says the final word contains a hint of bitterness, though it’s solely aimed towards Din’s tribe.
Din tilts his head. “Both.” He glances over at Zora, who’s now asleep with her cheek squished against his shoulder. The sight manages to bring him a smile. “But mostly for redemption.”
The pause Astra takes makes Din look at her again. He’s surprised to see that tears have started to pool in the eyes he adores so much, making his heart sink faster than his beskar had on Trask. Still, she attempts to blink them away as she nods to acknowledge him.
Din releases Astra’s hand to instead hold the side of her face. She leans into his touch and closes her eyes, attempting to strengthen her fight against her emotions. Din circles his jaw as a fierce wave of guilt floods over him. He refuses to leave things this way.
“I’m going to put Zora back in her crib,” says Din, earning Astra’s tearful gaze again. “Then, do I have permission to take you back to bed, if only to sweep you off your feet again?”
Astra manages a genuine chuckle and nods. Din presses his forehead against hers before he forces himself away from her and over to the crib, where Grogu continues to sleep with gentle snores. Din smiles as he sets Zora beside him, confident that her brother will look after her even as they both sleep. He can now set his full focus on Astra, who still remains standing by the window. Her arms, covered by the sleeves of one of Din’s shirts, are crossed over her body in a way that’s both endearing and heartbreaking to Din.
She doesn’t deserve whatever she’s putting herself through, and Din can only hope it’s not his fault.
Din takes a moment to embrace her from behind and lets her wrap her arms over his. He buries his face in her head, a refuge for both of them as they silently apologize for things neither one of them can control. These quiet moments are few and far between these days, which leaves them to savor each and every one they can get—despite the circumstances.
They wallow in the silence for a long moment before Din turns Astra towards him. He takes her arms and wraps them around his neck, causing Astra to latch onto him when he scoops his hands underneath her legs and wraps them around himself. She lets out just a small gasp of surprise, reminding Din all too well of a moment they shared long ago on the Razor Crest. When he settles them both on the bed, he leaves Astra where she is upon his waist, letting her take the lead as he runs his hands gently along her sides.
The tears return to Astra’s eyes as she avoids his gaze and instead watches her finger trace the scars on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she begins in a strained voice that already shatters Din’s heart. “I know we’ve already talked about this, but I…” Astra shakes her head and takes a hold of Din’s Mythosaur necklace. Her thumb runs over it as her lips quiver. “I can’t help thinking that I could’ve done more.” Her broken gaze meets Din’s. “More to keep you from having to break your Creed.”
Din studies her and takes his time with his words. He lifts his hands to her face and holds it with all the gentleness he holds in his beskar-clad heart for her. “Cyar’ika, ner kar’ta, you never have to apologize to me for feeling what you feel.” He shakes his head at her. “Never.”
Astra nods in understanding. She sniffs in a vain attempt to keep a tear from escaping, but Din catches it with his thumb.
“Just because we’ve discussed this before doesn’t mean it’s made it any easier for you.” Din traces the scar that runs across her lovely face. “I still feel the guilt from that day on the prison ship.”
Astra’s eyes soften for him. “Din…”
Din runs his thumb over her lips, a wordless plea for silence. She lets him go on. “No matter how much I remind you that it wasn’t your fault, I know you’re going to continue to blame yourself.” He urges her forehead to rest against his, revealing his sweet severity to her. “What you need to know is that I never blamed you for a single second, and despite my desire to redeem myself, I don’t regret what I did.” He brushes his nose against hers. “Not in the least.”
Astra smiles, though her joy is short-lived. It pains Din to see the sparkle fade so quickly as she speaks. “Then why do you want this redemption, riduur?”
Din lifts her head from his and runs his fingers along her shoulders. “I gave the Mandalorians my word, rid’ika.”
“You were just a child, Din.”
“Still.” Din looks beyond Astra to the crib where his two children sleep. “Like you’ve reminded me many times before, I’m a father. They’re going to be looking to both of us for guidance.” His gaze returns to Astra as he nods decisively. “They need to know that Djarins keep their word and right their wrongs, no matter what.”
Astra’s unable to keep a fond smile from growing on her lips. “I understand.” She lifts the Mythosaur to her lips and kisses it. “So honorable.” Din fights hard to keep the blush off his face, a task that becomes easier when he watches Astra’s expression fall again. “If I’ve undermined your Creed ever since this all happened…”
“No.” Din’s quick with his reassurance as he sets his hand on the back of her head and leans it against his own once again. “You’ve only reminded me why the Creed means so much to me. Loyalty, solidarity, honor. You’re the reason why I still consider myself to be a Mandalorian.” He looks down at the Mythosaur and covers her hand with one of his. “You’re the reason why I want to go, to continue being the Mandalorian you’ve always said I am.”
Astra’s smile returns as she nods at him. She speaks in soft yet meaningful words. “This is the Way.”
Din doesn’t fight his smile nor the butterflies that flutter within him upon hearing his beloved utter the words that carry such meaning to him. “This is the Way.”
Astra kisses him, a quick yet sweet gesture that seals her promise to remain strong at Din’s side throughout this next journey. She pulls away and lifts her brow in a way that fosters curiosity within Din rather than concern. “You mentioned getting some help from the others who want to go to Mandalore.” Din nods, waiting patiently for her to go on. “You were talking about Bo-Katan, right?”
Din raises an eyebrow. “Right.”
Astra’s gaze avoids his again. Her hands rest upon his chest as she drums her fingers lightly upon it. “She wants the Darksaber.” Astra’s brow is wrinkled when she looks at Din again. “What if she tries to fight you for it, like Paz did?”
Din cradles her face once again, softening his features to ease her further. “I can’t promise that it won’t happen.” He furrows his brow in severity. “But I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to prevent it from happening.”
Astra’s chest rises and falls in a calculated breath. “And if she doesn’t give you a choice?”
Din circles his jaw. It’s a scenario he’s already thought about more times than he’d like to admit. “Then you take the kids and get as far away from this fight as possible.”
His wife’s shoulders begin to deflate at the mere thought of it. She gives her head a shake. “That almost sounds worse than just watching it happen.”
“For you, it probably would be, and I can’t apologize enough for that.” Din gestures with his gaze to their children’s crib. “But for the kids?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as dark memories flood him like the water on Trask once had. “I still can’t get Zora’s wailing out of my head.” Din reopens his eyes and meets Astra’s evident sympathy. “And there’s no telling what Grogu would do to Bo-Katan.”
Astra nods, acknowledging the hard truth of his words. She holds her breath as her gaze fills with a longing that urges Din to act, even before she speaks on it. “What about finding our home together?”
Home. It’s a word that’s been with them ever since they first started to catch each other’s gazes, especially on Sorgan. It’s the same word that comes to Din’s mind whenever he looks at his wife. “Maybe we’ll find it on Mandalore.” Din tries to keep his doubt out of those words. “I know we both deserve a physical place to call home after all we’ve been through, but…” he shakes his head in admiration of her, “when I think of home, I don’t think of a place. I think of you.”
Astra’s gaze flickers with warmth. “And I of you.” She steadies herself with a deep breath and nods. “You’re right.” She starts to smile at Din. He’s eager to return it; anything to brighten her spirits. “As always.”
Din scoffs. “Definitely not always, cyar’ika.”
The light of amusement floods his wife’s eyes. “I beg to differ.” Astra’s fingers begin to trace the ripples of muscle on Din’s arms. “You knew these made me feel safe even though I never spoke on it.”
“First of all, rid’ika, you don’t have to beg for anything around here.” Din takes one of her hands and lifts it to his lips to press a kiss upon her knuckles. “Second of all, of course I knew.” He sets his free hand upon her back. “You nearly told me so yourself.” In a quick yet gentle movement, Din presses Astra against himself and turns them over, leaving him to hover over her in an all-too familiar way. “At the Tusken camp.”
Astra groans and laughs as she covers her face with her hands. “Will I ever live that down, riduur?”
“No, you won’t.” Din chuckles with her and takes a delicate grasp on her wrists. He eases her hands away from her face and widens his grin. “But only because it made me feel a way I’d never felt before.” He begins to kiss along her scar in between each word. “Loved. Admired. Valued.” Din stops when his lips brush against her own. “And, above all, needed.”
Astra runs her hands over back and shoulders. “Definitely needed.”
Din laughs and brushes his nose against hers. “Now, permission to kiss you until you feel better?” He gestures with his head to the children’s crib. “In a manner that’s appropriate with our children nearby?”
Astra smiles and nods with a playful roll of her eyes before she pulls Din towards her. One of her hands threads through his hair in a way that makes his goal of appropriateness hard to achieve, though Din summons the very strength he and Astra had just boasted about to provide his wife with nothing but the sweetness and reassurance he knows she needs. He takes his time with her, proving that there’s no need to rush anything; they’ll have plenty of time left to enjoy what they already have, no matter where in the galaxy they are.
Their display of affection goes on until exhaustion weighs them both down enough to seek out whatever slumber they can get. Din holds Astra as close to him as he can until the soft whining of his daughter rouses him. Miraculously, his wife remains asleep, allowing Din to leave her in bed while he tends to Zora. All their daughter needs this time is attention, something that Din’s more than happy to offer.
In time, Grogu joins them, taking his place at Din’s side as they sit on the floor of the bedroom with Zora. Their son finds the shifter knob from the Crest and uses it to entertain not only his sister, but also his father and himself. Din holds Zora in one arm and uses the other to grasp the knob while Grogu uses his powers, the Force, to take the knob from him. Zora coos and laughs in delight each time, especially when Grogu returns the knob to her own hands and the cycle starts again.
Din loses track of how long they play this game, losing himself in the joy of it all as he laughs with his children. He’s only brought back to his usual awareness when he senses a gaze watching from behind him. Din turns his head over his shoulder and sees Astra sitting on the edge of the bed, her lips pulled tight into a breathtaking smile.
“You’re awake,” says Din. He rises from the floor and makes his way over to where she sits.
“Good morning,” Astra greets, her voice as soft as her expression as she looks up at her husband.
Keeping Zora held upon his shoulder, Din cups Astra’s cheek with his free hand and kisses her forehead. “Good morning.” He stands up straight and gestures to the nearby table. “I had a meal brought up for you, if you’re hungry.”
His wife beams at him. “Thank you.”
Din nods and grabs the tray for her, setting it at her side upon the bed. “I tried to ask for what you used to like to eat on Sorgan.” He stares at the food and twists his lips. “I think it’s prepared differently here.”
“It looks incredible, riduur. Really.”
Din’s unable to keep his sigh of relief tucked away. “Good. I’m… glad.”
Astra blinks at him and remains silent, not making a single move for the food despite her reassurance. Din raises an eyebrow and shifts his weight between his feet.
“Is everything okay, rid’ika?”
Astra’s quick to offer a nod. “Yes, of course. I just…” Her lips are frozen into a permanent smile that remains when she gives her head an aimless shake. “This life,” she waves her hand where Din had just been sitting, “and you,” she lifts her hands to reach for Din’s face and kisses him once he complies, “are perfect.” Astra runs her thumb over his lips, only breaking her gaze from Din’s for a moment. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
Din can only offer a wistful smile in return. “It’s not about what I want to do.” He lifts Zora from his shoulder and hands her to Astra, allowing him to walk back over to Grogu. His son coos with delight as his father picks him up and takes them back over to Astra and Zora. Din holds Grogu’s hand between two of his fingers and faces Astra again. “It’s about what I need to do.” He frees one hand from Grogu to brush it over Astra’s head. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the life you deserve.”
“Don’t say that.” Astra balances Zora in one arm and holds Din’s wrist, keeping his hand on the side of her face. “As long as I’m with the three of you,” she grins and nods, “I have everything I could ever need.” Astra kisses his palm. “Mhi solus tome…”
Din smiles wide enough to make his face hurt. “Mhi solus dar'tome…”
Astra urges his forehead to rest against hers. “Mhi me'dinui an…”
“Mhi ba'juri verde.” Din kisses her, then presses a kiss to both Zora’s and Grogu’s heads. He looks at his wife and nods. “Together.”
Her features remain soft even as she tightens her jaw with the determination Din admires so much. “Through everything.”
“Through everything.” Din stays close enough to his wife for his nose to brush against hers. “I love you.”
Astra presses her smiling lips against his own. Her words are mumbled upon his mouth. “I love you, too.”
Din knows this wordless promise will be kept and held true, no matter the cost for either one of them, throughout the course of their next journey. With Mandalore, an empty throne, and stars knows what else awaiting them, Din can at least rest in the knowledge that his family will be by his side every single step of the way. He senses he’ll need them now more than ever before.
previous ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next (season 3)
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#a final setup for our favorite family before season 3 arrives!#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin x oc#din djarin x original character#the mandalorian x oc#the mandalorian x original character#security#dindjarindiaries
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Chapter 11: teamwork makes the dream work
-Break the cycle-
Bendy tried calling out to the angel toon, but nothing came out. He didn’t mean to scare her away.
They heard Addisons light footsteps approach, they ran to her.
"Hey buddy, you seemed kinda spooked…everything okay?" Addison asked, bendy felt like telling her about who he had just ran into, but decided against it.
"Yeah I’m fine, just missed you is all." They signed, giving a smile. They lied.
Addison wasn’t fully convinced, but believed her companion wouldn’t lie to her. So, she accepted it as truth.
"Okay well, cmon we gotta head back to the safe house for just a bit." The angel said, turning around. Bendy nodded and followed his angelic companion.
Once they reached the safe house, Addison lifted the hatch. She always let bendy in first, they didn’t really know why but never bothered to question it. Though, when bendy entered, his angel friend didn’t follow.
"What’s wrong?" Bendy signed, Addison turned her head to them and put a finger up to her mouth.
"Shh, I heard something." The angel drew her axe, and gestured for Bendy to stay inside. However, Bendy gestured for her to come inside.
The angel was worried that it could be a butcher gang member again, they did tend to wander, and it sounded close to the safe house her and bendy stayed at. One had gotten in last week, she didn’t want the same thing to possibly happen again.
"Stay there." Addison stood up, bendy tugged on her.
The angel took notice, and attempted to convince bendy that she’d be okay. They didn’t like when Addison went out alone, they came along on her journeys and hunts more often.
"I’ll be fine, I have a weapon. I just wanna check, it’ll only take a second; promise." Addison placed her hands over Bendys. She pressed their hands against her chest, seemingly sealing the promise. Bendy nodded, but still didn’t like the idea.
Addison stood up again, and strode away, bendy retreated back into the safe house. Whenever Addison would leave to clear the area near them, bendy had to keep the hatch open so she could come back in. The little demon squeezed into a crawl space. Just big enough for them to sit in, Addison didn’t know about this crawlspace, but bendy would hide there whenever the angel would leave.
They stayed there for awhile, it had been only four minutes since Addison had left, bendy grew worried.
No, she’s okay, she has a weapon. She made a promise.
The demon reassured himself.
..five minutes..then six…then seven.
Bendy dreaded every minute, it overwhelmed him.
Eight, nine, ten,
They counted the minutes.
Eleven, twelve,
Automatically, their pie cut eyes began to close.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…
The little devil drifted to sleep within the crawl space.
Suddenly, a loud thud woke the little demon from sleep. He jolted forward, they didn’t even realize they had fallen asleep.
How long has it been?
Where’s Addison?
What was that noise?!
These thoughts raced around like race cars inside bendy’s mind. He had to be brave.
He squeezed back out the crawlspace, the hatch to the safe house was still open and Addison was nowhere in sight.
The little devil began to panic, and frantically look around for his companion. He even checked that one blind spot Addisons hid to scare him, but she wasn’t there, she wasn’t anywhere in the safe house.
Their attention then turned to the open hatch. She has to still be out there. Bendy gathered their courage and swallowed a lump in their throat.
The little toon rushed out of the safe house, when leaving they shut the hatch behind them.
Loud patters of feet approached the toon, their head swung in the direction of the noise. It was that angel toon from earlier! Though, she seemed to be dashing away from something. The angel seemed to notice bendy, and they began to sign. Though they were to far away for bendy to understand.
When the angel got closer, she gripped bendy and dragged him along with her.
He gasped feeling rightfully confused. He turned around and saw the fast approaching keeper, now understanding why the angel was running away and signing at him. He picked up his foot work, trying not to stumble in the angel toons grip.
The angel swung them both around the corner. She spotted a miracle station and forced bendy into it. Once he was in she spotted a barrel for herself to hide in. She slide in just in time as the keeper threw itself around the corner. It slide around, dragging its disgusting cords across the studios wooden floors.
Seemingly giving up, it turned around the corner once more, and left. Azael crawled out the barrel and knocked on the miracle station; signaling that it was safe to exit. Though, the toon inside didn’t open the door.
Azael let out a audible sigh, and swung the door open, ignoring how Bendy flinched when doing so. The angel then scrunched her face in confusion. The devils face was stained in tears, he hiccuped.
Azael began to sign frantically. She didn’t know how to address this situation, or even how to deal with it.
"What’s wrong?!" The angel signed, bendy hiccuped.
"My friend! I lost my friend!" The devil toon signed frantically, Azael tilted her head. She had thought they were alone, which is…sorta why she came back, or rather ran in this direction to hide bendy away from the keeper.
"What does your friend look like?" Azael signed, hoping she’s seen this toons friend somewhere.
"Like Alice, but with clothes similar to mine!" Bendy urgently signed Addisons description, Azael perked her head up. She’s seen this angel, but not in a pleasant way.
Azael had seen this angel being dragged away by keepers. Allison, Tom and Azael split up in attempts to flee. Azael escaped alone, she had no clue where her new friends were.
"I’m sure she is okay, relax. I can help you find her." Azael signed, an attempted to comfort the devil toon. She rubbed his back.
"Really?" Bendy signed.
Azael nodded, bendy whipped his face. He then hugged the angel. Azael gasped, then pressed her lips into a thin line. She…wasn’t used to this, so she was the first to pull away.
They both set off. Azael walked faster than bendy and didn’t look behind her to make sure he was close, so the devil picked up his pace.
Chapter 10 / Chapter 12
#fic#fanfic#batdr#batim#bendy and the dark revival#bendy and the ink machine#bendy drew#good bendy#dapper bendy#toon bendy#Addison angel#Allison angel#Allison pendle#Tom Boris#Thomas Connor#scruffy Azael#break the cycle#btc#btc story#toon Azael
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Chapter Sixteen of My Everlasting Light
A Stardew Valley fan fiction about the relationship between Sebastian and my farmer, Lily.
Synopsis: The town's most romantic festival of the year leads to an important question being asked
Cast: Original Female Character, Sebastian, Emily, Haley, Harvey, most villagers mentioned
Contents: Established Relationship (Dating), Village Festival, Love, Romance, Bonding, Proposal, Happiness, Lots of Soppy Crying ;)
Warnings: None
Moonlight Proposal
Sebastian checked the contents of the rucksack over his shoulder again, knowing full well that the boat and candles were definitely still in there, but way too anxious to stop his ocd from rampaging out of control.
"Are you okay, Sebby?" Lily asked, looking up at him with concern in her eyes. "We really don't have to go if you don't want to. I know everyone's going to be there and I'm feeling pretty nervous myself at the thought of it actually."
He looked down at her and forced himself to smile. Damn his nerves. Even after that talk with his mom he was still so paranoid about this, still worried that it wasn't the right time, that he was asking too soon, that something was bound to go wrong. He felt her fingers curl around his, squeezing his hand gently and relaxed ever so slightly, her touch, as always, the only one that had ever been able to soothe him. This was Lily. His Lily. How could anything ever go wrong with her? He tried to beat down all the old negative thoughts that seemed to be trying so desperately to come back.
"I'm okay, baby," he squeezed her hand in return. "I'm not looking forward to the crowds any more than you are, but there's no way I'm letting you miss this festival, it's one of the few things this crazy town does that's actually worthwhile."
"It does sound pretty magical," she agreed as they started down the path that led to the beach. "And I have to admit, I'm awfully curious about what you've got in that bag. You are so mean for not letting me see!"
"Ah, it wouldn't be a surprise if I let you see straight away, would it?"
Lily pouted and he smiled again, pulling her to a momentary halt and kissing her petulance away.
"Sorry, baby, that was too cute to ignore," he slipped a hand into her hair, ready to kiss her again, when a cheery voice interrupted them.
"Hey, come on you two, you'll miss out on all Pierre's amazing offerings if you don't hurry up!"
They looked around to see Haley and Emily just turning the corner behind them. Emily bright and bubbly as always in a tie-dye dress and headscarf, Haley buttoned up in a long blue cardigan looking worn out carrying a full photography kit including tripod.
"Pierre has amazing offerings now?" Sebastian raised a sardonic eyebrow and Emily laughed and punched him good naturedly on the shoulder.
"Now don't be like that, you bad boy. We're almost in earshot and you'll hurt the poor man's feelings!"
All four of them rolled their eyes at that. As they could all see from here, Pierre's stall was decked out with the worst array of jellyfish related items anyone could ever wish to see. Jellyfish lava lamps stood next to jellyfish flavoured chewing gum and even poor Caroline standing loyally at his side had the decency to look embarrassed at the eclectic selection of wares on display.
"Oh dear," Lily murmured as they walked by. "And I thought his egg festival stall was bad."
"We don't talk about that anymore," Emily whispered back melodramatically. "It's still too fresh in our memories," she raised a hand to her brow for comic affect. "Oh, the horrors of that day!"
"Emily, you bought more bunnies than anyone else I know that day," Haley drawled and Emily immediately clapped a hand over her sister's mouth, looking about wide eyed as though she thought someone might be listening.
"Shh, I said we don't talk about it anymore!"
"Argh," Haley groaned and pushed her sister's hand away. "You're too nuts for me, sis. I'm going to go find Alex, he can carry all my stuff for me! Have a nice time tonight, Lily. The moonlight jellies are always a beautiful sight and this is your first time, you're in for a real treat."
"Thanks, Haley," Lily smiled as Haley trotted off with a little wave back at them.
"Oooh, looks like everyone else is already here!" Emily exclaimed, flailing her arm in greeting at her friend Sandy, who had made the trip all the way from the desert to attend the festival. "I'll talk to you later, hun," she turned back to Lily. "I'm sure you two lovebirds don't want to spend this magical evening with your old pal Emily playing gooseberry!"
"Okay, Em, you have a nice time, I'll catch you later."
Sebastian watched Emily go and took a deep breath, unconsciously holding Lily's hand even tighter. They were almost at the dock now, where the rest of the villagers were gathered in their various little groups and the noise levels had grown exponentially.
Sam, Vincent and Jodi were all standing together, Vincent struggling to duck out from under his mother's restraining arm while his brother tried to distract him with an ice-cream he had gotten from Yoba alone knows where. George and Evelyn were trying to find a good spot to safely park the old man's wheelchair while Pam and Penny were standing far too near to Gus for Pam to be complaining about the lack of a buffet that night. Shane was on his knees trying to hold Jas back from diving into the sea to look for baby jellyfish and Marnie was standing nearby, eyes fixed on the Mayor who was setting the last of the boats in the water. Willy leant in the doorway of his shop looking a little bemused by all the people who usually rarely ventured anywhere near his territory and even the usually shy Clint was kicking his shoes nervously at the end of the pier, trying to strike up a conversation with Gunther, the owner of the town library, who didn't seem entirely averse to the prospect.
"Now, everyone remember not to touch the jellyfish, all right?" Harvey was handing out his usual doctorly advice as he made his way up and down the dock. "They may look pretty but they have a nasty sting and I don't want to be treating any wounds tonight!"
Sebastian caught sight of his parents and Maru standing off to one side and couldn't help but look their way, for some reason seeking out the familiarity of his mother's face. His sister and Demetrius seemed deep in discussion about something but his mom caught his gaze and gave him an encouraging smile. It helped a bit, although the crowds and endless chatter were rapidly wearing him down. He caught his breath and jumped a little as a boisterous Jas sprinted by, a seemingly escaped Vincent in hot pursuit, crying out loudly about the jellyfish he was about to stuff down her neck.
"Oh no, no," Harvey immediately shot after them, a look of consternation on his moustachioed face. "That won't do at all!"
"It's really noisy here, isn't it?" Lily echoed his thoughts. "Shall we find a quiet spot for ourselves?"
He looked down at her, feeling all his earlier panic returning despite his best attempts to fight it down.
"But if we move too far away from all the boats we won't see any jellies." He felt so conflicted. "I don't want you to miss them."
And how the hell was he going to ask her what he needed to ask her? And when? Giving her the ring had been so easy, why was this so difficult? Oh Yoba, maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. He tried to breathe more deeply, he hadn't felt this anxious in ages.
"It's okay, Sebby, we don't have to go far, look…" she pointed over the little bridge that led to the tide pools. "There's no one over there and I'm sure we can still see the candle boats from there."
He looked where she pointed. Of course, she was right. Why hadn't he thought of that? He often walked over to the tide pools to be by himself. Hell, he just wasn't thinking straight right now. He wondered if all men felt this way when they were about to propose or was it just him and his craziness?
"Come on," she gently pulled him in the direction she'd pointed. "It's not just you, I could do with some peace and quiet too!"
She beamed sweetly up at him and he let her lead him away, tried to let all his worries fade in the light that was her beautiful smile. Tried not to mentally rehearse his lines for the millionth time that day.
Lily led Sebastian over the wooden bridge and down the side of the tide pools. She gazed dotingly up at him as they walked. He had been so quiet on the way here and she was worried about him. They were both normally pretty nervous whenever they had to go out for too long and the village festivals were often hectic affairs, although this was unusual for Seb who often handled himself much better than she did in public.
They finally came to a halt and sat down next to the abandoned dock near the last pool. She took her chance to snuggle into his side, slipping one arm around his waist and laying her other hand on his chest, loving the feel of him and the fact that she could sense his heartbeat slow at her touch.
"I can't wait to see them, Sebby," she said softly. "Will Lewis set the boats free soon, do you think?"
"I think so," she felt his arm curl around her and her heart fluttered when he pulled her closer. "We got here pretty late," he checked his watch. "It should be almost time now."
"Oh look," she lifted her arm. "I think I can see the first boat moving out now."
She was right, the first little wooden boat had drifted out onto the ocean, its light seeming small and lonely against the dark waters.
"Is that the only one?" She couldn't hide her disappointment.
"Just wait, baby," she heard the smile in his voice as he responded and watched in awe as, one after the other, more lights appeared on the sea until soon it was awash with bobbing candles and a hush descended on the night, the voices of the villagers that had drifted to them even over here falling away as slowly, ever so slowly, the first of the jellyfish drifted into view.
Lily watched, breath caught in her throat, as the ocean turned into a kaleidoscope of delicate blue creatures, graceful and silent in the inky waters, casting their own soft light until her gaze was full of nothing else and she felt tears prick at her eyes at the magic of it all.
Sebastian looked over at Lily, entranced by her reaction. The jellies were always beautiful but she was a million times more so, waves of hair drifting in the breeze, eyes wide and glistening with the reflected light, mouth slightly open, breath coming quickly. He could see a few tears roll from her eyes and smiled gently, loving her even more than usual if that were at all possible.
"Lily," he spoke quietly so as not to ruin the moment. "Do you want to see that surprise now?"
She turned to him instantly, face glowing, so radiant he wanted to do nothing more than just take her in his arms, start kissing her and never stop.
But that could wait. He had other things he needed to do first.
She nodded. He knew the sense of wonder that shone in her eyes, he always felt the same way himself every time he came here. Even more so tonight. He reached into his bag and pulled out the ship his mother had carved for them.
"Oh!" Lily exclaimed as he handed it to her, turning it over in her hands and running her fingers along the smoothness of the wood. "Seb, this is lovely but how come it's bigger than the other boats?"
"My mom made it specially for us so it could hold two candles instead of one."
"She did?" She looked up at him then back down at the ship. "Oh, that's such a sweet idea!" She smiled and his heart melted. Ah Yoba, that smile, that was all he ever needed to see for the rest of his life.
"Shall we let it sail?" he asked, taking it from her and lighting the candles with the matches he'd also taken from his bag.
"Oh, but Seb…" a frown creased her face. "It's so pretty, what if it sails too far and we can't get it back?"
"Don't worry," he said, producing a length of sturdy string and tying one end around the post of the dock they were sitting near and the other around a little notch on the boat's bow. "I'll make sure it can't get too far away."
Lily laughed as he pushed it out onto the waves where it bobbed up and down, tugging safely at its tether, several jellies already nuzzling gently around it. "You're so clever, Seb! You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
"Well, I didn't want to lose something so precious…"
His sentence trailed away and she turned to look at him, concerned by the sudden change in his voice.
He was staring down at the ground, shoulders shaking, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. She lifted an arm, wanting to reach out to him, to ask him what was wrong, when, all of a sudden, he raised his head and looked her so deep in the eyes that she gasped, completely snared by the beauty and intensity of his gaze.
"Lily," he said softly. "I have something else for you. Would you… would you close your eyes for me?"
"Of course," she instantly closed her eyes, heart pounding with anticipation, trusting him implicitly, felt him move closer, arms reaching around her, fingers carefully clasping something around her neck.
"What…?" she lifted her hand to her chest, felt a smooth weight hanging from a chain.
"You can look now."
She opened her eyes and looked down. A sparkling blue pendant lay over her heart. Shaped like a unicorn shell. Perfect in every way. Her throat closed. She knew what this meant.
She looked up at him. Tears were streaming silently down his cheeks and she let out a choked little cry as he slid a hand under her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze.
"Lily," he sighed, shivered, closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to hers. "Ah hell, my words… I don't know what to say… had it all planned… and now…" He opened his eyes, cradled her face in both hands. "Lily… you're the light of my life, I don't ever want to lose you. Please…" his voice broke, his eyes searched hers desperately, his fingers tracing her every feature. "Please… say you'll be my wife."
"Seb!" her tears broke loose, she threw her arms around his neck, knocked him back onto the sand and pressed her mouth to his as though her life depended on it.
"Lily!" He wrapped his arms around her, words muffled by the enthusiasm of her kisses. "Baby, does this mean yes?"
"Oh Seb, of course! Of course it means yes! I've never wanted anything more in my entire life!"
He let out a half laugh, half sigh, head dropping back onto the sand in relief. "Oh thank Yoba, I was so worried about asking you. I thought you'd think I was crazy for asking so soon!"
"Oh Seb," her face was red with tears as she sniffled and gazed down at him yet she had never looked more beautiful to him than she did right now. He lifted his hands to her cheeks, smoothing the tears away, smiling as she bent to kiss him again, tasting the salt on her lips.
"If you're crazy then so am I!" She sat up, reached into her pocket and pulled out a mermaid pendant of her own.
His eyes widened, gaze resting on the now familiar object before moving back to her face, which now had even more tears pouring down it than ever before.
"Sebby," she sobbed, tilted her head to one side, reached out to touch his cheek, her gaze so full of yearning it made his heart ache. "I love you, Sebby. I've been wanting to ask you for so long. Please, will you be my husband?"
"Lily." His heart pulsed, felt like it was expanding to the size of the sky. He pulled her down into his arms. "You know I will, baby." His lips met hers. "You know I will."
"Seb," she returned his kiss with more tears, mingling with his, a seemingly never ending supply, her hands tangling in his hair, fingers moving feverishly over his face. "Don't let go of me, Sebby." More kisses, desperate kisses. Sobs. Eyes fixed on his. "Don't ever let go."
"I won't, baby," he wrapped her up as tightly as he could. His Lily. His precious wife to be. "I won't ever let go of you."
He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her long into the night, until the jellies were gone and all that remained was the sound of their two hearts beating as one under the stars.
Read Chapter Seventeen
Cute little page dividers by @chachachannah / Boring old plain green ones by me!
#stardew valley sebastian#sdv sebastian#stardew sebastian#sebastian stardew valley#sebastian sdv#sebastian stardew#stardew valley sebastian fanfic#sdv sebastian fanfic#stardew sebastian fanfic#stardew valley sebastian fanfiction#sdv sebastian fanfiction#stardew sebastian fanfiction#stardew valley fanfic#sdv fanfic#stardew fanfic#stardew valley fanfiction#sdv fanfiction#stardew fanfiction#stardew valley sebastian x original female character#sdv sebastian x original female character#seb x lily
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Hina's moans are always music to his ears, the perfect song that begins being soft and gentle but quickly turns rambunctious and powerful—straight from pianissimo and right into fortissimo. And even though they both put themselves in such a dangerous situation that will surely result in unfortunate, if not horrendous, consequences, takemitchi can’t help but want to enjoy the music she breathes into the air.
But he can not. Instead, he quiets her with a hand over her mouth, thumb on one side and four fingers on the other while being careful not to cover her nose. His body is atop hers as he holds himself up with one arm, hips flush while Hina is on her back.
Takemitchi hikes Hina's legs over his shoulders in order to cant her hips upward, giving him better access to the area that makes her sing, and as he shifts his position, bending his knees and moving them closer to her, the angle of his thrusts changes and he starts hitting a spot deep inside of Hina that had her eyes rolling back and the lids closing as she keens into his hand.
It was still loud, though—too loud.
“Shh, shh, shh. You don’t want us to get found out, do you?”
Hina's eyes open to meet his blue ones, and shake her head beneath his grip; he rewards the answer by grinding into her, his groin rubbing against her clit with each roll of his hips, and it forces more noises that are just an octave higher than before to escape her.
“Are you close?” he asks, his voice just barely above a whisper; she nod again. “Rub your clit.”
Hina is a much smaller hand than his own snakes between her bodies, delicate fingers grazing her clit, and just the mere touch makes her gasp. Hina's hips jerk away like she has been injured, but she immediately goes back for it and starts rubbing quick circles on the swollen bud, her legs soon trembling on his shoulders.
Takemitchi starts thrusting again, hitting that spot deep inside her just like before—he must have been if the way his wife is sounding off beneath him was anything to go by, as well as how Hina's pussy pulses around his cock, threatening to clamp down around him like a vise as she grows closer and closer to her orgasm.
Hina keens as he pounds into her and he so badly wants to uncover her mouth just to hear the beautiful crescendo she is releasing as she is building up to her climax. But he knows better.
“C’mon, baby. Cum for me. Let me feel it,” he breathes, snapping his hips against Hina one, two, three more times—
The door to the room they both are in opens like the gates of hell, and Takemitchi can’t scramble off his wife fast enough, pulling out and uncovering her mouth just as she reaches her peak and ungracefully tumbling right over it, back arching and a loud moan escaping her chest.
She seem undeterred by the intruder who’d just walked in on her intimate moment and who’d frozen at the sight of herself fucking in a place they definitely have no business being, and instead, she just roll onto her side, close her legs around her hand, and try to catch her breath.
The Bonten figurehead’s eyes flick between Hina and Takemitchi as he stands just inside the doorway, his hand still on the helve as the bulkhead that separates his personal quarters from the rest of the building is wide open. Takemitchi can only remain where he is, jaw tense and eyes straight ahead as he stands at attention like the right-hand man he is.
When the door is gradually shut, its eerie creaking and lock clicking both sounds that would surely haunt his sleep for nights to come, he could only watch as Mikey then slowly makes his way across the room and toward his desk while the heavy but steady rhythm of his steps reverberates off the walls and shakes takemitchi to his core.
The Bonten Leader removes his coat and tosses it onto his desk, and it was at that point Takemitchi glances back at Hina, realizing that she, too, is watching, though her face and chest are flushed—but whether that is from embarrassment, her orgasm, or something else, he isn’t sure.
Neither of her knows what to do and she both are sure as hell do not know what Mikey is about to do, but you two remain still, waiting for her punishments.
Takemitchi can’t help but wonder if getting thrown off the building—or even just voluntarily jumping off it—will be less painful than silently standing at attention in the room with Mikey, listening to his steps as he moves, while they two waits for disciplinary action. His stomach is twisting and turning in a cocktail of anticipation and anxiety and dread.
Mikey is at the table now and he pulls out the chair that is closest to his desk, takes a seat, then leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. The pose is intimidating and shows his patience has grown thinner.
Then again, Mikey is staring directly at Hina—at least until those two eyes that are the color of a charcoal turn toward takemitchi and lock with his ocean blue hues. Immediately, he looks straight ahead again, his stomach locking up as he suddenly realizes that, yeah, he understands how she is feeling now.
But the room goes silent—awkward—aside from the sound of takemitchi’s heart in his chest and ears that is no longer a steady rhythm but some sort of fucked-up beat he can’t even keep the time of. And then Mikey speaks in his familiar, husky voice that always had the blondette’s stomach doing twists and turns and flips like acrobats.
“Please continue.”
Mikey could have shot takemitchi in the head with a glock at that very moment and he’d still be staring at him in confusion. But both of them must have been displaying the same facial expression because an annoyed look crosses Mikey’s face as his eyes flicks between the two of them again. He waves his hand a bit from right to left, palm straight up, urging them both to continue with what they are doing.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he reiterates.
“I—” takemitchi begins but cut himself off as he glances back at Hina. “I don’t—I’m not sure—are you—is this—uh—” He sputters like an idiot, his words unable to gain traction in his mouth and instead his tongue keeps slipping and sliding over like he is attempting to climb a muddy hill in flipflops, and by the time he even finishes stumbling over every attempted sentence, only one clear thing comes out: “boss?”
Mikey’s string of remaining patience snaps and takemitchi feels like it is going to slide down his throat and choke him. “My Hero.”
Mikey’s tone is sharper than the katana Sanzu had accidentally cut himself with when clearing a raider hideout two nights ago—and that thing had really sliced through his hand—but his title is said in a way he hasn’t heard before and it makes him stand up straighter, shoulders square, as he stands at attention in more ways than one.
“Get back on the bed and continue fucking your wife.”
Takemitchi’s mouth opens and closes a few times as he glances back at hina again, then at the Mikey, then back at her; and he is about to move—
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Yes, boss,” the scarred man says, his voice cracking from nervousness before he quickly climbs back onto the bed. He has gone soft after getting caught, but Mikey’s sharp tone and husky voice have, well, helped give him a bit of a semi, so all he has to do is reach down and start stroking himself a little to get the rest of the way there, and seeing Hina spread her legs to allow him between her certainly does wonders to speed that along.
Once he is fully hard, Takemitchi shifts forward, guiding himself into hina, both of them releasing an ensemble of sighs and quiet moans as he hilts inside of her. Like before, he grinds himself into her, his groin rubbing against Hina's clit as she releases a sharp exhale before her hips roll along with his, demanding more friction.
Takemitchi didn’t grind against her for long, though, and instead hikes her legs over his shoulders again, canting her hips upward, while he increases the tempo of his thrusts, his hips soon slamming against hina roughly.
But the moment she is growing loud again, Hina's voice abruptly jumps a couple octaves rather than gradually increasing, and his palm roughly claps over her mouth, muffling her noises.
“Let me hear.” Mikey suddenly interjects.
Takemitchi stills and turns his head, eyes locking with the Mikey’s; there is an obvious erection in his suit, but he isn’t touching himself and instead is still in that same position as he watches.
When the scarred man looks back at her, however, that is when he feels hina's tongue slide against his palm; he crinkles his nose in disgust before pulling his hand away, being met with a grin on her face. She seems to be enjoying herself, at least, and he’d be a liar if he says it wasn’t exhilarating to have someone—especially Japan’s most fearsome crime lord—watching him and his wife fuck.
As punishment, he snaps his hips against her roughly, coaxing a yelp from her, the sound loud and echoing off the walls in the room, though he doesn’t give her time to recover before he’s fucking her again. He pushes Hina's legs closer to her chest, which allows him to go deeper, and Hina is mewling beneath him as he slams into her, both of them are breathing heavily, and he knows hina and he is already getting close—
“Rub her clit.”
Immediately, Takemitchi sits back on his knees and pulls her ass onto his legs, her own legs leaving his shoulders and instead wrapping around his waist. His thumb finds Hina's clit, hand splaying across her mound as he rubs quick, rough circles on the sensitive bud while he keeps up his thrusts. Hina is still mewling, her legs trembling around him, and he tries to hold on to her, his eyes tightly closing and his teeth grinding together while he fucks hina harder, but he is so close.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, “I want you to cum with me.”
But Mikey is suddenly beside the bed, his upper body bare. He leans over and locks his lips with Hina in a gentle kiss that she seems to have trouble holding while Takemitchi never lets up on his rough thrusting. Mikey’s hand slides around Hina's throat and, at the same time, her own hands find his body, one going to his shoulder blade and the other to the back of his neck, nails digging in at exactly where his Bonten insignia is placed.
Finally, hina tips over the edge, her walls clenching around her husband’s cock as she nails claw and claw and claw at Mikey’s back, almost breaking open the skin all around his shoulder blades as she goes into freefall from her orgasm. The kiss between them two breaks and she'd scream her husband’s name; and soon enough, her sounds die down until the only thing escaping her are breathy whimpers from sensitivity—but Takemitchi is already flying over the edge with her by that point.
Just before he reaches climax, he releases soft moans that only increase in frequency as he reaches the edge and finally tips over it. His eyes tightly close again and his hips slam against her once, twice, thrice, before he buries himself to the hilt and comes inside of hina.
Takemitchi’s orgasm crashes over him like sound waves that reverberates through his bones and soon he is holding himself above her, leans to the side on one hand so as to keep his body separated from where Mikey is still close, and peppering bites along Hina's jaw as she sighs softly and enjoying the feeling.
The Bonten leader pulls away after a few more moments and takemitchi takes his chance to lean down and kiss hina, one hand cupping her jaw as he pulls his hips back just enough to slide his softening cock from her.
“Hina.”
The kiss breaks and she turns her head to look at her superior, listening for orders.
Mikey is standing near the table—the man is so quiet with everything he does which is not unusual, and as he calls for you, takemitchi doesn’t waste any time pulling away to let her get up.
Hina saunters over to the crime lord and he reaches out to grab her jaw. Once you are close enough, their thumb and fingers dig into her cheeks as he pulls her closer and roughly kisses her while his other arm wraps around hina to pull her body tightly against his.
Hina finds herself returning Mikey’s kiss, and once they are separated, he reaches down and cups hina's ass, hoisting her up so she has to wrap her legs around his hips before he carries her over to the table and set hina on the edge.
Hina's lips are immediately on his throat, kissing along his jaw just as she always does to her husband, and takemitchi can only watch with interest, his teeth chewing his lower lip. But this is the first time he has ever seen Mikey bare his throat, his head slightly tipping back to give her better access to such a vulnerable area, and Takemitchi wonders if he does that for all his whores, knowing they could sink their teeth into his jugular and make his artery spray like a fountain.
But he doesn’t seem worried, and takemitchi knows hina well enough to know she'd never do such a thing.
“Your husband takes good care of you, doesn’t he?” Mikey asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“I can tell. How many times did you cum before he did?”
“Three, sir.”
“Mm. Good. Think you can handle more?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you want your husband to watch me fuck you?”
The question catches her off guard and she attempted to look at takemitchi for guidance, but Mikey grabs hina jaw again, thumb and fingers digging into her cheeks once more to keep her head forward as he makes her look up at him instead.
“Don’t look at him, look at me. Do you want your husband to watch me fuck you?”
“I—” you start but the answer never comes out.
takemitchi can’t blame hina. He knows what she wants, and he’d be a liar if he says he doesn’t want to let her get fucked by his beloved boss too—and he’d be an even bigger liar if he says he doesn’t want to get fucked by Mikey himself, as well. But the chances of that happening are slim to none, “hanagaki. Do you want to watch me fuck your wife?”
“Yes.” There is no hesitation in takemitchi’s answer.
“Hina?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good girl,” Mikey purrs before he starts pushing his pants and his underwear off, completely baring himself. “Lay on your back.”
It is only then that takemitchi took a moment to appreciate the way Mikey looks, taking in the sight of the countless scars that riddle his slim and muscular body like sheet music, singing the tales of a man who lived his life in darkness and suffering. Bullet holes and knife wounds litter his torso, some scars are small while others are much larger; atrophic trenches and hypertrophic ridges that decorate his skin, gifts from past battles and traumas that many knew about but few knew the intimate details of.
It is beautiful on its own fucked-up way.
And takemitchi can only admire the younger man as he stands before them like the perfect living example of a marble statue carved centuries and centuries ago.
Hina is on her back, fingers running through Mikey’s stomach before he kneels down on the floor between Hina's legs, his face disappearing from Takemitchi’s view as it is blocked by her thighs.
It is obvious what he is doing as takemitchi had done it plenty of times himself—licking her cunt and tasting her—though the surprising part is how Mikey seems to have no problem eating hina out after takemitchi had spilled inside her just a few minutes ago. But she seems to be enjoying it, the hand that had been on Mikey’s stomach is now grasping his silver locks and pulling him closer to her core, directing where she wants him.
Mikey had her singing in no time, her back arching and legs trembling as she come, a soft muffle of his groans against her sounding off in the background of her song, creating harmony together.
He helps her ride her orgasm out and once she is done, he is back on his feet between hina's thighs. A rough hand runs up her stomach and between her breasts, then back down, before he reaches between the two and starts pushing in; she sucks air between her teeth, the sound hissing, and takemitchi finds himself standing and moving closer, his eyes zeroing in on what is happening between her legs—
Fuck.
Mikey is thick. Thick. Probably average in length—but he is definitely thicker than takemitchi; though the blondette is bit longer. Still, shit.
Mikey eases in and is soon hilted, her song of pain eventually turning into a song of pleasure. takemitchi leans down and kisses hina softly, one of his hands going to a breast and groping as he keeps her lips locked, her moans muffled against his mouth and he devours every note.
“Rub her clit,” Mikey orders as he begins to make small test thrusts.
takemitchi breaks the kiss and momentarily glances up at him before reaching over and sliding his fingers between hina's legs, rubbing fast circles against that swollen bundle of nerves. Hina immediately moans, gradually increasing while her body tenses and her hands grip the edge of the table beneath her just as the Mikey’s thrusts starts to pick up in tempo.
“Good boy, Takemitchi.”
Alright, he’d be a liar if he says the praise hasn’t sent a wave of arousal throughout his body.
Fuck.
Hina is quickly falling apart, though, and it doesn’t take long for her to come, and Mikey’s soft groans as he slams his hips against her tell takemitchi that her walls are spasming around his boss’s cock; he knows all too well how fucking good that feels.
“Such a good girl,” Mikey purrs, his hands gripping her hips, thumbs pressing inwards toward her groin; the sound of hina hips slapping together from skin-on-skin contact is nearly echoing in the small room. “Perfect fucking fit.”
But takemitchi isn’t prepared for the hand that grasps his chin and yanks him up and to his right, forcing his lips to collide with the leader in a rough kiss; his cheeks are clutched and it forces his mouth to open wider, providing access to an intruding tongue as it searches for his own.
And all the while, Mikey’s hips never falter in their thrusts even as she is cursing and keening and definitely watching her husband make out with the white-haired man above her while, at the same time, the younger man is fucking hina. She mutter something along the lines of ‘oh, fuck, that’s so hot,’ and he can’t really disagree.
Takemitchi has never been with a man before. That doesn’t mean he isn’t attracted to them, because he is—he considers himself bisexual even though he’s never actually fucked another guy—but holy hell if this isn’t an opportunity. And the assumption earlier that Mikey has no interest whatsoever? Scratch that, because it is clearly wrong.
He has no idea how long he’s been kissing his boss—it feels like forever because he’s been sent into some sort of bliss from just how good it is—but as soon as it breaks, they are both panting and Mikey immediately turns to hina, his eyes looking at her over for a moment before he glances back to takemitchi.
“Go sit on the bed,” he orders.
Of course, takemitchi obeys and goes to sit on the edge of the mattress, ensuring he is in a good position to keep watching.
It is then, however, that Mikey bends over so his body is flush with Hina's and she immediately wraps her legs around Mikey’s hips as he is grinding against her. One of his arms goes to the table, a hand threading into her hair as his face is pressed against the side of hers, and takemitchi can hear Mikey whispering but cannot tell what is being said. His eyebrows furrow as he strains to hear, but he can see her bite her lower lip before she looks over at him—the Bonten boss doing the same—and something about the look the two are giving him makes him almost want to blow his load again right then and there.
But he still isn’t hard yet.
Mikey starts kissing hina's neck and you tip her head back for him as soft moans escape her lips while her hips are grinding. But when his teeth sink into her throat, right on your pulse point where everyone will see, her soft moans turns into a loud groan that signifies pain mixed with pleasure.
His teeth remain in hina's neck as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, likely only releasing her skin after he is certain there will be a dark bruise left behind. Mikey then drags the flat of his tongue against the spot he’d marked before he stands up straight, grabs her hips, and returns to fucking her hard.
From there, it isn’t long before the white-haired man is on the brink. takemitchi can tell before that where his boss had once kept a steady pace in his rough thrusts, they are now faltering, their tempo losing its rhythm while his breathing has grown heavy and ragged as he pants. she is close as well, with one of her hands between her thighs, fingers rubbing her clit while her legs tremble. And before long, she tips over the edge, back-arching, screaming Mikey’s name—not his nickname, though, but his first name.
“Manjiro”
“That’s it, pet. There you go—mmfuck, I’m gonna cum.” A low groan is released from deep in Mikey’s chest before he slams his hips against her a few more times and then hilts himself, stilling as he comes.
Inside her.
Mikey comes inside Takemitchi’s wife.
And takemitchi isn’t even mad about it—shit, he feels himself growing hard from it, that refractory period finally having dissipated.
“Fuck,” he whispers and watches as Mikey was grinding his hips against hina, his body rolling with each movement before he finally pulls out. When his cock slid free, the noise it makes is wet, likely from the mixture of her cum and both men’s cum—and when Mikey pulls back enough so his cock is in takemitchi’s view, the blonde can see streaks of white on it.
Mikey’s eyes remain on Hina's cunt, however, even as he suddenly speaks to takemitchi. “Hanagaki,” he says sharply in that same tone that had helped get takemitchi hard earlier—it is doing the same thing now. “Come here.”
Bonten’s executive is immediately on his feet and approaching, standing at attention as he does and waiting for direction. But as Mikey finally flicks his eyes over to him, the blonde has a sudden realization of what he is about to be told to do.
“Clean me off.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Just as quickly as he’s gotten to his feet, he’s also gotten to his knees. He takes Mikey’s semi-hard cock into his hand and slides the head into his mouth, sucking hard, while the shorter man’s eyes are on him the entire time—and takemitchi can’t help but stare back. He slowly slides more and more in, sucking him clean, tasting the mixture of Mikey’s cum and the tang from his wife on his taste buds. And maybe he intentionally takes a little longer than necessary to clean the cum from his superior’s dick, but he eventually gets the job done and Mikey seems satisfied.
He is brought back to his feet, and his lips are smashed against the other man’s again, that same tongue invading his mouth and immediately being welcomed by his own. When they break apart, however, there is a soft noise from you; they both look over at hina watching with a palm groping her breast, two fingers rubbing her clit, and cum leaking from her. She doesn’t seem satisfied or sated despite having numerous orgasms, though she should appreciate the fact you don’t have the same sort of refractory period as he does.
Takemitchi chews on his bottom lip before looking back to his king as Mikey pulls away, moving to his desk drawer and grabbing something out of it—a bottle of what, he isn’t sure—
Oh. Wait.
Oh, fuck.
Mikey returns to him but before he is able to question anything, their lips crashing together again and Sanzu is being led backwards toward the bed. The back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he is suddenly pushed by hands against his pectorals until he falls onto the bed on his back.
Mikey is atop him in seconds with his hips slotted between takemitchi’s thighs, their lips brought together again, but it is only a brief kiss this time before the Bonten leader sits back on his knees and that bottle he’s brought is popped open, some of the substance being poured onto the white-haired man’s fingers.
“I’m going to fuck you, Hanagaki,” Mikey says nonchalantly; it nearly makes takemitchi moan. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass before?”
“Uh, well—” he begins as Mikey gently rolls him onto his side and pushes his top leg up to his chest. “Yeah, I have. With Hina”
“Mm. Good.”
That is all the warning Mitchi receives before there is a finger working into him.
It doesn’t take long before he is prepped; Mikey is gentle, of course, and ends up getting three fingers into takemitchi’s ass, spreading him open because, fuck, the man’s cock is thick, and mitchi isn’t about to be split open. But when he is ready, Mikey apparently has plans for how he wants this to go.
“Hina.”
Hina is immediately on her feet—Hina is always obedient when she chooses to be.
“On your back.”
Hina lay down, and takemitchi is instructed to sit on his knees between her legs like he had earlier; a hand comes from behind him to quickly stroke his cock, thick fingers wrapping around him quite nicely as he is being guided right back into hina's cunt, a place he knows he belonged. Hina is still soaked, a combination of her own slick and cum as well as the mixture of his and Mikey’s spend, which just makes it all the better.
A rough hand strokes over his back as takemitchi is hilted inside you. When that husky voice speaks low in his ear, almost a growl, Sanzu’s entire body shivers.
“Fuck her. Hard. I want to hear our cum getting fucked out of her.”
Shit.
Mitchi obeys and pulls his hips back before slamming them forward, repeating the action again and again, his cock pounding into hina while he grabs her legs and pushes them upward to where her hips are canted just like before.
But he falters in his movements as two fingers are pushed into his ass, and then he completely stills as those same fingers are crooked downward, body tensing when they press against his prostate, poking and prodding and massaging it.
“Baby,” hina whisper, and takemitchi opens his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them; he moves his hips a little because he knows that is what she wants, but that just makes the fingers inside him press more against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure throughout his entire body.
Those fingers are pulled out, however, and takemitchi releases a sigh before he starts thrusting again, beginning slowly before eventually pounding into hina once more, making her keen.
Mikey disappears into the bathroom for a few moments, letting them two continue, and takemitchi doesn’t even realize the white-haired man returned until a hand grasps his hip, stilling him, while a rough palm pressed between his shoulder blades and gently pushes him forward so his chest is almost flush against Hina. The anticipation had his heartbeat increasing in tempo, knowing it is about to change as the bonten leader is preparing himself to fuck Takemitchi.
The pressure of Mikey’s cock pushing into his ass nearly knocks the breath out of him. His entire body tenses, his jaw clenches, and he grabs fistfuls of the sheets as he releases a low groan while Mikey slowly works himself in. At the same time, China is stroking takemitchi’s back soothingly, trying to help and convince him to relax.
“You can take it, Hanagaki,” Mikey purrs.
Fuck, takemitchi could have cum right then and there because the sound of his beloved king’s voice alone—deep and husky and filled with lust—is just incredible.
Mikey is soon hilted and all takemitchi can do is just lay there, feeling entirely full while his cock is still achingly hard and buried in her tight heat. But Mikey isn’t going to let him stay still for long, and he knows that.
Mikey eventually pulls back a little before his hands are put on takemitchi’s hips, guiding him, making the blonde move back and forth so he’s thrusting inside of her while Mikey’s cock is fucking him with just takemitchi’s own movements.
It is intense and incredible and fuck.
He is already going to lose it soon if this keeps up.
Mikey starts moving takemitchi’s hips faster and he can’t help the breathy moan that escapes him, his face is pressing into her jaw as his breathing is stuttering, his body almost trembling while it threatens to tip over the edge. “Fuck, I’m so close.”
But he is suddenly pulled back, his cock is ripped from her core as a large hand reaches down to his dick, thumb, and forefinger wrapping around the base and squeezing much too tight for comfort—and then his urge to cum is just… gone.
“Not yet,” Mikey murmurs in his ear from behind, and takemitchi can only whine.
Strong hips are grinding against his ass, and Mikey’s free hand slides up to his throat, fingers wrapping around the column while the other hand releases his cock and moves to be grasping his hip, holding him still as—
“Ohfuckfuckfuckfuckgodfuck!”
Mikey gives him no warning before he’s pounding into takemitchi, holding the blonde back against his chest and thrusting fast and rough while the hand on the mitchi’s throat makes him lean his body back against the shorter man’s. He feels hands on his cock again, stroking, and realizes hina leaned up to touch him, rubbing his dick as he’s getting brutally pounded into—her and Mikey both focusing on takemitchi’s pleasure. And it is intense.
But Mikey eventually slows his thrusts to where he is just grinding until he fully leans back on his haunches, pulling mitchi with him so he is sitting on Mikey’s lap. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “You like having my cock in your ass?” takemitchi can only nod as he pants, unable to form any coherent words. “Hina. Ride him.”
It is an awkward position, sort of. Hina straddless takemitchi but is at risk of falling backward so his hands are loosely on her hips. She leans forward and kiss Mikey over his shoulder as her hips grind against Takemitchi, his cock slowly moving inside you.
The two manage to somehow work in tandem as if she’d practiced—Mikey brutally thrusts upward into him while hina bounces on his cock, and takemitchi is just fucking losing it; he isn’t going to be able to hold it. He can’t. It is coming.
He is coming—
His cock slips free from her again and Mikey’s thumb and forefinger are squeezing around his base once more, forcing his orgasm away—takemitchi cries out as he thought he is going to explode.
“Please,” he pants; his eyes are half-lidded while his breathing is shaky, but his pleas are ignored as teeth clamp down on the side of his neck, biting the skin hard enough to bruise. Mikey marking him just like he’d marked Hina.
Fuck.
After the leader let go, she is on her back again and Mikey shoves takemitchi forward to where he is laying on her like before, her husband’s chest flush with hers and his face buried against hina's jaw once more.
“Please, baby,” he tries again, begging hina this time as if she might be able to do something but knowing hina had no control over the situation—Mikey controls everything. He controls the two.
Mikey’s hand is wrapped around his cock and takemitchi releases a whine, but he is guided back into the tight heat of her cunt. “Fuck your wife, Hanagaki, and I’ll let you cum.”
It is music to his ears.
Shaky forearms are pressed onto the bed as he starts thrusting into her, one of hina's hands having slipped down to rub her clit in the process, and Mikey immediately begins pounding into takemitchi from behind again. The blonde barely registers when Mikey’s hand reaches forward and gently wraps around hina's throat, the other he places on the middle of takemitchi’s back as Mikey is slightly leaning forward when he starts fucking him even harder. His hips clap against takemitchi's ass, the sound almost deafening as it echoes in the room.
But at this point, mitchi is gone.
His hips stills as he feels his climax approaching, but he doesn’t even need to move because the force from Mikey’s thrusting is enough to make him pump into hina to some extent. And while that may not have been enough for her, it is certainly enough stimulation for her husband. “I’m—I’m gonna cum,” he groans, and he isn’t sure if anyone even heard it because it is said so quietly.
But Mikey does. “Let’s hear it, Hanagaki. I want you moaning my name—no one else’s. Cum for me.”
Takemitchi tips over the edge and his body tense up as he comes hard inside of hina. He groans, his crescendo having led up to the moment when he moans out Mikey’s name right against her jaw, feeling hina's body shiver beneath him at the sound. His hands clench the sheets, and even as he finishes coming, Mikey keeps going, brutally fucking him even as the stimulation becomes overbearing.
Hina sucks in a shaky breath and he feels her tighten around him even though his cock is softening; he can only release a heavy exhale against her when she comes, his entire body shuddering as she moans so close to his ear—using Mikey’s given name again just as he assumed she was directed to. But it is a beautiful song, nonetheless.
Mikey’s thrusts are faltering, and takemitchi is thankful for it because everything from the waist down and knees up are starting to pulse and throb and he knows he’ll be sore after all is said and done—but it’ll be worth it.
“Mm, fuck. I’m gonna cum—gonna cum in you, Mitchi.”
The use of his name had him groaning again and before he knows it, Mikey slams into him one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt and coming, filling mitchy up as he’d promised and the blonde lays nearly limp on top of hina, panting against her jaw.
Mikey leans back onto his knees, releasing her throat though his other palm slowly begins to slide up and down takemitchi’s spine, soothing him and helping him relax, and he feels her fingers threading into his hair. The stroking along his spine from Mikey only lasted a few seconds, however, before the white-haired man pulls out, coaxing a groan from both men, and then Mikey makes his way over to the bathroom and disappears inside.
“You did so good, baby,” Hina whispered before kissing his temple. “It sounded like you enjoyed it a lot.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, but he can’t get anything else out. Both his body and brain are utterly exhausted and refused to move or think.
Mikey comes out of the bathroom soon after disappearing, carrying wet rags; he moves to the bed and softly places one of the rags onto takemitchi’s lower back, the touch gentler than the he ever thought possible of someone like Japan’s most fearsome criminal, before the rag is slowly trailed down to clean him up. He is tender and sore, that is for certain, but Mikey is careful in his touches and hina is soothing him by petting his head and whispering comforting words.
Once he is cleaned off, he is carefully rolled onto his side and Mikey then goes on to clean hina up with the second rag, though takemitchi watches as Mikey leans down and gently presses hina lips together. There is something intimate about the way he kisses hina—and that same intimacy is present when Mikey had kissed takemitchi, too. He really can’t help but watch even though his eyes are drooping from exhaustion.
Surprisingly, though, Mikey isn’t kicking the two out, and even after takemichi finds himself dozing, he’d woken up just as the bed dips and he feels his boss settling between him and his wife.
Mikey’s body wraps around her much smaller frame, one of his arms going beneath your neck and wrapping around your chest so his hand rests on your shoulder, and the other arm draping over hina's stomach—but not until after he reaches behind him and grabs onto takemitchi’s arm, encouraging him to join in on cuddling.
This is a new and probably still dangerous situation, but, hell, it is a good change in his life.
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Text
Bite Me - Mike Wheeler
word count: 4052
warnings: swearing, unedited and poorly written
summary: Mike has harbored a crush on (y/n) since the day they met. And all it takes is a run-in with Billy Hargrove for him to lose his shit and let his feelings be known.
(a/n): I just randomly felt the need to write for one of my best boys
___
(y/n) (y/l/n) was a sweet girl. If you asked anyone they’d tell you how kind she is, to everyone she meets. From giving out homework answers when someone forgot, to sharing her lunch, she’d lend a hand no matter who you were. She was a good person, and that’s why Mike was so in love with her.
He had been ever since she’d joined the Party, back in the fourth grade. She’d been bringing in an extra juice box and snack for two weeks, just for Will, and the four boys agreed unanimously to offer her a spot in their group. Mike can still remember the look on her face, the wide grin that showed off her recently lost tooth, and the way she’d giggled and agreed instantly.
They taught her D&D, she was invited into Will’s fort, and taken in by Joyce as one of her own. She was truly one of them.
She didn’t look at him like everyone else did, it’s one of the first things he’d noticed about her, and he could see it every time their eyes met. That annoyed expression that he was used to receiving -from peers, from his parents, even Nancy, even their friends- he’d grown so accustomed to it, until he’d met her.
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Mike was shouting, about to lunge towards Steve, before (y/n) and Dustin grabbed his arms to yank him back. “We can’t just stay here and-”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing!” Steve shouted back, shoving a scolding finger in the younger boy’s face. “We’re staying here, so I can keep you dipshits safe!”
Steve rolled his eyes before spinning around to leave. Nothing stressed him out like these kids.
“Come on, we’ll figure something else out” (y/n) said quietly, and tugged on Mike’s arm a little more.
His glare softened when he turned to her.
She nods her head off to the side, prompting him to walk off with her. He groaned, but he followed when she pulled him towards the living room. Her hand didn’t let go of his wrist until they were away from everyone else.
“You know nothing you could say right now is gonna make me less pissed off-”
“I know,” (y/n) giggles before he can start ranting again. “But maybe you can just take a breath and pretend to calm down?” She hums, and she laughs again.
Mike groans loudly, loud enough that everyone in the house could hear him, before he threw himself down onto the sofa.
(y/n) just shook her head, and sat next to him.
“Steve’s just trying to keep us safe, Mike,” She says, voice just as soft, but a bit more serious now. “He’s not doing this to make you mad, you get that, right?”
He nods, but hangs his head in his hands.
“Are you… um… upset because El’s out there?” She asked unsurely.
She had a pretty good feeling that Mike had a crush on Eleven. He was distraught when she left, and since she’d come back (a few hours ago) he’s been extremely on edge. Hence the pouting right now.
“I guess,” He shrugged. “I just- I want to just-”
“I know,” (y/n) murmurs again. “I get it”
She admired Mike’s need to help, to get involved. He was brave, if not a little reckless as well. But there was something sweet about his extreme need to help. Even though she was still convinced he was only wired this way because of his crush on Eleven.
Mike looked over to her, finding that loving look on her face. His favorite expression -maybe even his favorite thing- and it somehow calmed him down a bit. She smiled when he hadn’t started grumbling again.
“You good now?” She asked.
“Yeah,” He sighed. “I’ll be fine”
She grinned, and poked his cheek affectionately before getting up from the couch.
“I’m gonna get a glass of water and make sure Steve’s calmed down too,” She told him. “Guess I’m the only sane one around here”
He laughed a bit as she left the room.
“Steve?” (y/n) called gently as she approached her older friend.
He turned to her, an unamused, and rather annoyed, look on his face.
“You alright?”
“I will be, once I’m in a retirement home and have restraining orders placed on all of you,” He answered, making the girl laugh. “Your boyfriend calm down yet?” He asked, and her laughter stopped almost instantly.
Steve was chuckling now at how red her cheeks were turning.
“He’s not-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, heard it before, pretended to believe it before, whatever,” He said, and (y/n) busied herself with getting a drink. “Now’s as good a time as any to just, you know, confess. You’re stuck here anyways”
“No I… I can’t um…” She shakes her head, staring down at the bottle of water she’d grabbed from the fridge. “I can’t do that” She finished weakly.
Steve had known (y/n) for a few years now. He’d met her the first night he’d hung out with Nancy in the Wheeler home, she’d been there with Mike coming up with a new character for D&D. His first impression, as it was for all of the kids, was that she was a geek. And she was, but she was a lot of other things too, and what stood out the most to him was her kindness. She didn’t exactly fit in with the Party like the boys seemed to. Not only because she was a girl, but because she was… friendly.
Mike wasn’t cruel to Steve by any means, but he was a snarky little shit that sometimes made Steve just want to-
“Why the hell do you like that little asshole so much anyways?”
(y/n) was still blushing as she shrugged her shoulders.
He’d picked up on her little crush one of the first times she’d met him. He called her out on it right away too, luckily only Dustin had heard, and he’d laughed it off, thinking it was a joke.
It wasn’t.
“He’s such a piece of shit,” Steve said through a laugh, earning a pointed glare from (y/n). “Obviously he doesn’t treat you the same way he treats, well, everyone else”
“No, he doesn’t,” (y/n) sighed lovingly.
Her eyes glanced out to the living room, where Mike and Lucas were heatedly, and quietly, arguing. She rolled her eyes at the sight, not that it surprised her.
“He’s very, um-”
“Sweet on you?” Steve supplied, earning another look, which quickly turned into a nervous smile. “Yeah, that’s how I’d put it. I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it. He obviously has a little crush on you too,” Steve said, wagging his finger around in her face. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be such a little gentleman towards you”
(y/n) didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to for Steve to know how she felt. He’d always known. She didn’t do a great job at hiding it, but her friends, and Mike for that matter, were oblivious.
They were interrupted by a bright light shining in through the windows, bright enough that she shielded her eyes as she wandered out to the large picture window.
“Who is that?” She asked, as everyone gathered around to figure out who could show up at the Byers’ house right now.
Their question was quickly answered.
“Sinclair!”
The angry, dangerous voice sent a shiver all the way down (y/n’s) spine, before an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Billy Hargrove was bad news, but him being here, right now, was even worse.
“Stay inside” Steve ordered, shoving the kids down underneath the window.
“I know you’re in there!” Billy screamed again from outside.
“Stay inside” Steve repeated, before walking out of the house.
“What the fuck does he think he’s gonna do?” Lucas asked, as everyone peeked their heads up just enough so they could see what was going on outside.
“He’s gonna fight him” Dustin said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“He’ll lose,” Max mumbled. All eyes turned to her, but her gaze was trained on her brother, afraid. “He’ll kill him”
“He’ll be okay,” (y/n) whispered to her new friend. “Steve’s a tough guy, and can throw a punch-”
“I’m not so sure he can take one, though” Max said.
(y/n) frowned, and set a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“We’ll be alright” She assured, even though she wasn’t certain what was going to happen.
Steve was now walking down to Billy, who was still yelling, but they couldn’t make out what exactly.
“What’s he saying?” Mike hissed, only to get shushed by Dustin, thus starting a ‘shh!’ war.
(y/n) only let it go on until Billy shoved Steve back by his shoulders.
“Boys!” She scolded, sitting up a little straighter as the fight outside escalated.
Just as she’d sat up, Mike grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back down.
“You want to get seen and murdered?” He whisper screamed. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her sweet smile. His brow furrowed at her smile, but he wasn’t quick enough to say anything about it, as everyone’s attention was pulled back to the scene outside.
Billy had shoved Steve to the ground, and was racing up to the house now. He locked eyes with the Party, who all quickly leaned down as low to the floor as they could get.
“Lucas, run!” Max screamed, shoving the boy to haul ass before her brother could storm in and get his hands on him.
When the door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, Mike grabbed (y/n) by both arms and just about ripped them out of their sockets as he pulled her upwards with him to get her as far fucking away from Billy as possible.
“We have to help Lucas!” She tried telling him while he dragged her off to the other side of the house. “Mike!” She shoved his hands off of her, and gave him a pleading look. “This isn’t like you, come on, he needs our-”
“Where are you, Sinclair!? Come on out!”
She ran away from Mike before he could convince her to hide.
Finding Lucas shoved up against the wall, something in her clicked. Billy’s significantly larger framed towered over the boy, who was clearly afraid, while Billy snarled nasty things right in his face.
“Why don’t you just fuck off?” She yelled at him, before thinking through the consequences of her actions.
Dustin and Mike stared at her in shock. She didn’t curse much, so to hear the foul word come out in her voice was… pretty out of character.
Just as Billy whirled around, likely about to send one knockout punch to her face, Lucas took his moment of distraction to knee him right between the legs. (y/n) squealed, both hands covering her mouth in surprise.
It was then that she took Mike’s advice to run back into the kitchen, and duck down behind the cabinets so she was out of sight.
“You’re fucking dead!” Billy howled in pain, and while every bone in (y/n’s) body told her to cover her ears, close her eyes, and stay hidden, she peeked around the corner anyways.
“No,” A different voice, a calm voice, a familiar voice, spoke up.
(y/n) had never been so relieved to see Steve in her whole life.
“You are” He finished, and took a strong swing of his fist against Billy’s jaw.
The crack that resonated made her wince, and she shut her eyes only for a moment as illy toppled backwards. He didn’t fall, and instead swung back at Steve, starting a very violent fistfight in the Byers’ kitchen.
“Come on, you gotta move” A pair of arms encircled her torso and helped her up from the ground.
Mike’s hands were much more gentle with her now than they had been a few minutes ago, and this time she let him bring her out to the living room, away from the fight.
Her eyes were wide with fear as she watched Billy throw Steve around the kitchen effortlessly. It was terrifying, she felt as though she was about to see him get killed.
When he landed a rather harsh punch, right under Steve’s chin, she cried out for him.
Steve crumbled to the ground, definitely knocked unconscious. He looked dead, though, and as the thought crossed her mind, she felt it again. The snap. Like an instinct buried deep was just let loose.
“You motherfucking piece of shit!” She screamed in a way that Mike, or any of them, had ever heard before, and was charging at Billy in an instant.
It was a hasty decision, grabbing the beautiful vase of flowers off of Joyce Byers’ table and throwing it full force at the back of Billy’s head.
While his head was soaked, and definitely bleeding from the shards of glass, he still managed to stay standing, and was fuming with anger as he glared down at (y/n).
“You made a big mistake little girl” He growled, and began to stalk towards her in a threatening manner.
“Bite me” She snarled back at him, followed by the rash decision to spit on him.
“(y/n) what the hell are you-!?”
Mike’s warning was cut off when Billy reached her, and she kicked him with all the force she could right in the gut. He grunted, but it hardly slowed him down. All she could see was red as she kicked him again, and began to throw her fists against his chest.
She didn’t have an ‘oh fuck’ moment until he grabbed her wrists in his large hands, and kept his hold so firm that tears welled in her eyes from the pressure.
“I’m gonna fucing kill you, little girl” He snarled, teeth bared right in her face.
Oh, fuck.
She tried to yank her body backwards, out of his grip, but he was faster, and stronger, and bigger than her. This resulted in her being thrown, no, slammed into the nearest wall. She cried at the crack of her skull against it, but had no time to react as Billy’s fist was all she could see, before it struck her and knocked her out instantaneously.
She fell like a limp, broken thing, and even when Mike grabbed her and shook her by her shoulders, she remained unconscious. It didn’t matter that Billy was still looking for blood, he pulled her into his lap and held her close against his chest. He was living a delusion thinking he could protect either of them if Billy came back for more, but he didn’t care. He was gonna keep her safe now.
Max had plunged the syringe into her brother’s neck, and was threatening him with Steve’s bat, but Mike hardly paid them any attention.
“(y/n), wake up, come on,” His voice was barely a mumble, and he hated to admit it but his throat was growing hot and tight with his tears choking him up. “C-come on open your eyes” He stuttered.
He pushed her hair out of her face so that it wouldn’t get sticky from the blood running out of her nose. He wiped away the red substance with his sleeve, not bothered by it at all.
“We’re going!” Lucas called, and rushed over to Mike to help him carry her. “Dustin Will and Max are getting Steve in the back. I’ll help you with her”
Mike didn’t have time to question anything Lucas had just said, and hastily went along with the plan. They looped (y/n’s) arms over both of their shoulders, and made their way out to Billy’s car.
___
Everything.
Hurt.
It was the first thing that (y/n) was aware of when she came to. Her legs, her arms, her torso, her head-
Oh shit my head hurts.
She groaned softly, reaching a shaky hand up to prod around her eye. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was definitely bruised. The rest of her body had to have been bruised too.
She suddenly shot upward as the car went over a bump, and that’s when she realized she was even in a car. Why was she in a car…?
Her head rolled against the seat, and she was met with someone’s shoulder against her cheek. She winced at the pressure, probably because her cheek was bruised and bleeding.
“(y/n)?” A gentle, but distant voice called. It sounded kind of hazy, like the person talking was miles away, and not right next to her. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Her eyes met Mike’s round and worried brown ones, and a lazy smile tugged on the edges of her lips. Even though his brow was furrowed, and there was a deep frown on his lips.
“What happened?” She asked, voice scratchy and quiet.
“What happened?” Mike repeated, much louder than he intended. She flinched, and while an apologetic look swept over his face, he didn’t apologize. “(y/n), you attacked Billy Hargrove” He told her in a grave tone.
“I did?” She asked proudly, her smile returning.
“No- don’t- jesus (y/n) what the hell are you on?” He asked. “He almost killed you, I mean, look at you!”
“Can you please stop yelling dipshit?” Max called from the front. “I’m trying to focus here!”
(y/n’s) eyes widened, and it dawned on her that Max was the one driving. But just as she opened her mouth to protest being in the car right now, Mike continued on with his angry little rant.
“I mean, seriously, what the hell, (y/n/n)? Did you think you were gonna win? Did you really think that you were gonna take him down?”
Her brow crinkled and her eyes welled with tears, both from all the pain and his cruel words.
“Do you even realize that he could’ve killed you? Huh? I mean, I really thought he did for a second. Do you even care?”
“What’s your problem right now?” The girl whimpered
“You are! You’re my problem,” He said, not thinking through the fact that she was crying right now. “That was really stupid (y/n), really reckless”
“Oh, because you care so much about playing it safe,” She scoffed.
It was getting awkward for the others in the car, minus Steve, who was still knocked out.
“All you wanted to do tonight was to get out there- well- well here we are, Mike!” She shouted. It hurt her head to yell, and Max was yelling again too, but she drowned it out. “Hope you’re freakin’ happy” She mumbled, holding her hands against the side of her head.
Mike sighed, and pulled her hands away from her face, staring at her seriously.
“(y/n)...” He said softly. “I’m sorry it’s just…” He let out one more heavy breath to prepare himself before diving in. “Look at yourself (y/n), you’re hurt and there’s- there’s nothing I can do about it”
(y/n’s) brow furrowed as she stared back at him.
“What do you mean?” She mumbled weakly.
“I mean I- you… I have to… ugh” He groaned, clearly frustrated by his inability to form a coherent thought.
“You have to… what?” She hummed, face leaning around his shoulder tiredly.
They were close enough that their whispers were only heard by them. And somehow, it felt like they were the only people in the car.
“Mike?” She whispered when he hadn’t said anything yet.
His eyes flickered over her battered face. The black eye, her split lip, her bruised and cut cheek, his heart broke looking at how much pain she must be in right now. He couldn’t believe he let this happen.
“...protect you” He answered lamely.
“Protect me?” She repeats, soft, and loving. “From what?”
“Apparently everything from interdimensional monsters to senior year bullies” He said, making her laugh softly.
“You don’t have to do that,” She said with a small shake of her head. “I’m alright, I will be anyways. You don’t have to worry so much about me-”
“See I do though- you- you make it impossible not to worry. I’m just always- I’m a mess, okay?”
She giggled again, and rose a brow.
“I’m not following…you sound kinda crazy Mike-”
“I love you, okay?” He told her.
She choked.
“And I just need you to not get yourself hurt… okay?”
She’d never heard him speak so quietly, so nervously.
“You- you’re- um-”
“No more fighting people- and-and things- bigger than you, deal?”
His hands cupped around her face, thumb stroking over the bruise on her cheekbone in a comforting sort of way. She swore she was melting into his touch, for a moment she forgot all about the agony her body was in.
She didn’t think twice about leaning off his shoulder so she could reach up and plant her lips against his. It’s a gentle kiss, because her lips are sore and she was a bit nervous.
Mike’s eyes widened, and he was sure this wasn’t real. No, it couldn’t be real, there was no way (y/n) was kissing him. Maybe he was the one that got knocked out? And this is all some kind of twisted nightmare-dream?
But it was real, she was kissing him. And it was… wow it was great.
She’d almost pulled away, but he pulled her right back in, and shut his eyes to kiss her properly this time.
If he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to just take her and pour every ounce of love he had for her into this kiss, but it would probably only hurt her more.
They were cut off by a low whistle, and (y/n) turned to see Steve, who had apparently been sat next to her this whole time, and Dustin, who was sat on his other side, both giving the pair very different looks.
Despite his face looking just as messed up as hers, Steve pulled a sly grin, and winked.
Dustin, however, looked like he might vomit.
“What. The. Fuck!?” His voice cracked when he screamed, making both (y/n) and Mike jump a bit in their seat. “You guys have been- been- hooking up this whole time!?”
“What? No!” (y/n) argued back, shaking her head and trying to kill the idea in Dustin’s head before it escalated, but it seemed to be too late for that.
“You have! You’ve been frenching!”
“Oh my god,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Dustin, shut up”
“Can we save this argument for later, fellas?” Max hollered from the front. “I don’t think that this is the most important thing going on-”
“W-wait a- wait a minute- wait a-!” Steve’s eyes widened as he started to panic. “No! No way! Stop the car right now! Who let her drive-!?”
His screaming was abruptly cut off by the car swerving, causing everyone to scream now.
“Drive on the right side of the road! Jesus Christ we’re all gonna die!”
(y/n) wrapped both arms around Mike, one behind his neck and the other around his torso, keeping her secure. In case this car were to crash, her seatbelt, and Mike, would anchor her in place. Well, she hoped it would anyways.
He reacted quickly, embracing her tightly.
“I’ve been thinking I would get killed by a demogorgon,” She mumbled to him. “Guess it’ll just be a plain old car crash that takes me out”
He chuckled, but shook his head at her.
“No one’s dying, we had a deal”
She glanced up at him, a sweet smile on her lips. And she waited for him to look back down at her to say anything.
“I love you too” She hummed, just soft enough that Dustin (luckily) couldn’t hear.
The smile that grew on Mike’s face was brighter than she’d ever seen from him before. (y/n) was so relieved that her feelings were returned, that she felt she could go back to sleep, if she wasn’t getting nervous all over again about what was going to happen.
All they had to do now was to kill a monster and save their friends.
___
xoxo ~ jordie
#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things x reader#stranger things fanfiction#mike wheeler#mike wheeler x reader#mike wheeler fanfiction#mike wheeler scenario#mike wheeler imagine#finn wolfhard#finn wolfhard x reader
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On Monday night, Cas kneels beside the bed and folds his hands, dipping his forehead against the blankets and closing his eyes, lips moving soundlessly. Dean sits on the bed, still as a statue, and watches him, afraid to move.
When Cas straightens his head and uncurls, standing up, his eyes are wet with tears. Dean reaches for him and Cas falls onto the bed, presses his face into Dean’s neck, sobs silently. Dean holds him close, one hand cradling his head and the other rubbing his back, and he stares at their ceiling.
Dear Jack, or God, or whoever, he prays. Please come back. Please come home. We miss you.
On Tuesday morning, Dean untangles himself from Cas gently and brushes the hair from his forehead, presses a kiss to the uncovered skin. He gets out of bed and tiptoes out the door. He’ll get Cas some coffee. It’s the least he can do.
Dean’s chest feels tangled in knots, misery weighing heavily on him. All Dean can think about are his mistakes, all the ways he’s screwed up his kid. All the ways he’s done what he swore he’d never do, three nights after Sam left for Stanford, when he was curled up in a motel bathtub, hiding from his own father.
But today’s not about Dean, or his guilt, or his pain. It’s about Cas, and it’s about Jack.
Dean creeps down the stairs, holding the ends of the dead guy robe up so he doesn’t slip. He drops the fabric once he reaches the hardwood floor down below, and he heads for the kitchen.
Something rattles, and he freezes.
There’s a knife tucked into the leather jacket hanging by the front door, and Dean slides his hand into the pocket, curls his fingers around the hilt. He glides on socked feet towards the kitchen, hoping it’s just Claire--but Claire never wakes up this early.
From the kitchen, something clatters and falls. It sounds like bowls falling, and Dean takes bigger steps, readying his knife. When he turns the corner into the kitchen, though, it’s not a shitty robber or a demon or Claire or anything else Dean thought it might be.
A chair from the kitchen table was dragged across the room, pushed up against the cabinets. The cabinet with the bowls is both open and empty, and the plastic bowls are scattered against the counter and floor. On top of the kitchen chair is a little boy--three or four, with blonde-brown hair and wide blue eyes. His little arms are reached out to the fallen bowls, as if he tried and failed to stop them from falling. He freezes and blinks at Dean, who stares back at him.
“Dean!” the boy cries, and he jumps off the chair and runs full-tilt at Dean, wrapping his little arms around Dean’s leg and burying his face in Dean’s gut. Dean startles and crouches down, disrupting the kid’s hold.
“Hey,” he says gently, unwilling to scare the kid. The little boy is beaming, a bright smile, little baby teeth lined up and gleaming. He has a smattering of freckles across his nose, and he’s wearing a pair of pink dinosaur pajama pants, with a slightly oversized Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His socks say DADDY’S LIL ANGEL on the top of his feet. Dean surveys the boy’s face again. “Jack?” he asks eventually, unsure who else it would be, and maybe a little too hopeful to be thinking straight.
“Yes!” the boy--Jack, apparently--says, flinging his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean hugs him back, confused, and inhales. He smells like the strawberry shampoo he used at the Bunker.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean says, and he stands, his back protesting at the crouch, pulling the little boy up with him. “How are you here? Why are you little?”
“I was all done!” Jack says proudly, spreading his arms out wide and nearly smacking Dean in the face.
“All done?”
“All done!” Jack confirms. “I was soooo tired. So I came home! And now I want cereal.”
He wiggles in Dean’s arms, trying to get down. Dean yields, and Jack runs to the fallen bowls, picking up Claire’s favorite purple one. Dean watches, astounded, as Jack opens the cabinet but can’t reach the cereal. He follows and reaches for it, puts it on the counter.
Jack is here. Jack is home. Jack is his actual age. Dean wonders if he has powers, then he decides it doesn’t matter. If he does, they can deal with that later.
“Hey, Jack,” Dean says. “Come here.”
Jack runs up to him, still clutching his bowl. He lifts his arms obediently, and Dean picks him up, gently takes the bowl from his hand and puts it on the counter.
“You’re home?” Dean asks. “For good? This isn’t a dream?”
“I’m home!” Jack says, kicking his legs. “For ever and ever.” His eyes go wide and uncertain. “You said I could.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Dean says, a lump in his throat. “Of course I did.” He cups the back of Jack’s head and brings their foreheads together, wills away his tears. “Come on, you can have cereal in a little bit.”
He turns away from the mess in his kitchen and towards the stairs. “How did you know we wouldn’t be at the Bunker?”
“I wanted to come home,” Jack says. “Not the Bunker.”
Dean blinks rapidly. Jack pokes the picture of his older self as they pass it on the stairwell. Dean stops at the top of the stairs, turns his head to the left to look at Claire’s bedroom, the door shut tight.
“Shh,” Dean says, and Jack nods solemnly.
“Shh,” he repeats.
Dean turns his head to the right, to look at the door across from Claire’s. It’s shut, too, out of respect. They’ll go there later, Dean decides. They’ll see if Jack likes the decorations Cas put up, or if they’ll have to go to the store and change it. Dean will be thrilled either way.
He keeps walking. His bedroom is at the end of the hall, past Claire’s bathroom, and Dean pushes open the door gently.
“Okay,” he whispers to Jack. “You can jump, but only if you’re very careful.”
“Okay,” Jack whispers back, and Dean dumps him onto the bed. Jack stands and walks the three steps it takes to get him to the middle of the bed. He falls to his knees and pokes at Cas’s chest, then bounces on the mattress beside him. “Daddy, wake up.”
Dean’s heart melts, and Jack pokes at Cas’s cheek, then his nose. Cas doesn’t wake up, and Jack crawls on top of him.
“Dadddyyyy,” he says. Cas startles, then blinks awake, bleary. Dean watches his eyes slit open, confused, and the blue eyes focus on the little boy sitting on his chest. Then Cas shoots upright, hands on Jack’s shoulders.
He looks at Dean, who nods, then he looks back at Jack.
“Jack?” he whispers.
“Daddy!” Jack says happily, then Cas squishes him to his chest, curling over him.
“Jack,” he breathes. “Oh, you came back.”
“Yep!” Jack says, voice muffled, and Dean sits down, crawls onto the bed.
“Apparently he was all done,” Dean says.
“Yep!” Jack says again. “Auntie Amara said it was time to go home.”
“Of course it was,” Cas says, his voice fragile, and he rocks back and forth, holding Jack to his chest. He looks up at Dean, eyes wet, and Dean hugs him.
They stay like that for a long moment, Jack pressed between them, clutching onto Cas’s shirt with tiny fingers. Dean exhales shakily and presses his forehead to Cas’s, then he remembers something.
“Hey buddy,” he says. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Ummm,” Jack says. “Tuesday?”
“No, baby,” Cas says, sniffing.
“No, it’s Tuesday,” Jack argues.
“Of course it is,” Dean says. “But do you know what else it is?”
“No,” Jack says.
“It’s your birthday,” Dean says. “You’re four now.”
“Wow,” Jack says. He wiggles in excitement. “Does that mean we can have cake?”
“Of course we can,” Cas says, making a noise that sounds like a sob and a laugh at the same time.
“And a biiiiiiggg party?” Jack asks.
“The biggest,” Dean promises.
“With Uncle Sammy?” Jack asks. Dean doesn’t know where he picked up “Uncle Sammy”, but he hopes Jack calls him that forever.
“Of course,” Dean says. “I’ll call him in a few minutes. We’ll call everyone.”
“Everyone?” Jack asks.
“Everyone,” Dean says.
“Even Kaia?”
“Especially Kaia,” Dean says. He looks at Cas, realizing that he’s not the only person living in this house, but Cas doesn’t seem like he’s about to argue. In fact, he’s making his calculations face--probably wondering who to invite, who can get here on time and so last minute.
Dean realizes, suddenly, that Claire and Jack have never met. They’ll have to remedy that.
They can, now.
They can do anything, Dean realizes, as they get out of bed and Cas says something about no baby clothes and Jack protests that he’s not a baby, as they tiptoe past Claire’s room to retrieve the promised cereal. Dean unlocks his phone on autopilot, opening the phone app and turning to the favorites tab. When Dean was four, his family was destroyed.
Claire comes downstairs, Miracle in tow, and she shakes Jack’s hand solemnly. Sam screams over the phone. Rowena shows up in half an hour with a closet full of clothes fit for a four year old. Eileen and Sam bring balloons and streamers.
Cas is alive, Dean thinks while he mixes the cake. Sam is hanging up streamers across the room. Jody and the girls bustle in with enough food to feed an army. Claire lets Jack climb on her, looking a bit frightened and a bit resigned. Kaia helps Jack put on a tutu over his jeans. Dean slides the cake into the oven, and watches Eileen teach Alex how to sign happy birthday.
Jack is here now. He’s here and he’s four, and Dean’s family was destroyed when he was four, and now his son is four years old.
“Our family’s all together,” Dean whispers into Cas’s ear. Cas kisses him briefly. Dean had tried to keep track of their kisses, at first, but he’s lost count.
“Yes,” Cas says, eyes bright. “They are.”
(ao3)
#jack kline#dean winchester#castiel#deancas#destiel#nougatparty#writingtag#this kind of became about dean cause i got emo but here. baby time
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Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 4 by @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake and @johnwickb1tsch
Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘
Johnwickb1tsch:
They’re trying to kill you.
That is the thought that plays through your mind as Tex takes you to the top of the mountain with that wicked tongue, only to pull back at the last moment. Again, and again, he drives you to madness with long hard licks and wet little flicks over your clit, two of those thick fingers buried inside your needy little cunt. The bed is soaked beneath you; your thighs have begun to tremble uncontrollably; your throat is hoarse from the violence of the moans he forces from your throat.
That you could be a stone, hard and unyielding and unaffected by any of this.
But you’re just a woman made of flesh and blood, and these two men may as well have read the book on how exactly to stretch you down that fine line between heaven and hell.
After edging you for the umpteenth time Tex wipes his mouth your thigh with a satisfied smirk, those dark eyes burning up at you. “You ready for me, honey?”
You know you resemble a haggard and small creature of the woods, your eyes huge and tear-filled as you look up at him. You should be proud, that a part of you still wants to tell him to go to hell. But some little voice warns you from the back of your head, that you wouldn’t survive it.
Language isn’t really working for you right now. All you can manage is a plaintive whine that makes him smirk down at you. Someday you bargain with yourself. Someday, you’ll figure out how to make them pay for this. But right now…you’re helpless. And so you might as well…
Your thoughts stop dead as Tex unzips his jeans. Your gaze follows that leading line of dark hair down, and you lay eyes on just what this man has in store for you. You’re not sure if the whimper you make is out of anticipation, or fear.
“Shh,” says John from behind you. You hadn’t forgotten about him, of course, his hands still full of your breasts. “You’ll be fine.” Easy for him to say, and from the firm bulge that keeps pressing your cheek with your head in his lap, you can tell he’s not going to be any easier on you either.
Tex sizes you up with that smoldering gaze, as though he’s plotting something nefarious. Just that look makes you ache all over again, even while you tremble with nerves.
“Goddamn,” he grumbles, almost to himself as he pumps himself in his hand, spreading the beads of precum from his tip. “You sure you don’t want a piece of this, Johnny?”
You’re not really sure what he means by that, and you look up at John with wide eyes, what has become your knee-jerk reaction when you seek assurance, or mercy. You forgot that right now, at least, he has none left for you. His sharp look aimed down at you is nothing less than that of a hungry wolf.
“Would you do that for me, sweet girl?” he asks, stroking you from the tips of your nipples up to your hair. That one touch makes you writhe, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk.
With those big hands on your hips Tex flips you onto all fours, manhandling you into position exactly as he pleases. As he presses his length against the seam of your buttocks, grinding, your arms already begin to shake.
When John unzips his pants you begin to understand what they have in mind.
“Think you can handle us both, darlin’?” asks Tex, his hand lightly smoothing over the curve of your freshly bruised ass.
“She can do it,” John answers for you, sweeping your hair away from your face to turn your eyes up to his. He kisses you, coaxing you with his tongue, dragging your lower lip lightly with his teeth. “For me?” You hate yourself so much, for finding that you don’t want to disappoint him. You blink up at him, at a loss for words. But just slightly, you feel yourself nod, and he smiles at you like you have just signed your soul away to this wicked man.
With hands bracketing your head he guides you down to his massive erection. You take the velvety soft skin of his glans like a strawberry between your lips, licking messily before his light fingers on the back of your head guide you down. Simultaneously you savor Tex’s thick tip at your weeping entrance, your aching pussy craving to be stretched and ruined, before slowly he slides himself inside. He’s damn near gentle with you at first, as much as he can be with a cock like a weapon of massive destruction. Maybe it’s because of the mouthful you’ve got on the other end, or maybe…he’s savoring it too.
“Such a sweet little pussy,” he groans, working himself inside. “So tight and wet for me. Fuck.” Your answering moan is echoed all around, the cause and effect of Tex’s thrust driving you deeper onto John’s cock, to the very back of your throat, making you gag a little. The back and forth of it would almost have been comical, if not for the bone-melting madness overtaking the three of you in your quest for that ultimate release. For the moment your enmity with these men is forgotten. There is just flesh, and friction, and the promise of something absolutely incandescent on the horizon.
When Tex’s thick fingers slide between your legs to tease your nub you double down, clenching him fiercely inside you, so desperate to cum. It makes him swear behind you, pinching your clit in revenge. You see stars, so close to finally going to pieces. “Gaddamn, honey. I think you’d break a lesser man with that thing.”
You can’t tell him to shut up, so you moan in answer, the vibration on John’s cock causing him to buck up into your mouth, his long fingers grasping at your hair. You push your ass further up in the air in offering, tilting your hips, chasing your pleasure on Tex’s fingers with his manhood filling you to the hilt, and you minding your teeth all the while. Who knew you were such a champion multitasker? You deserved a fucking medal.
Tex’s thrusts grow more erratic behind you. His voice has dropped an octave, turned to pure gravel as he asks, “You close, baby?”
You’re not sure how he interprets your answering groan, but when his hips snap against you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed, it’s exactly the angle and the pressure you need. The explosion of scintillating warmth fills your womb and spreads outward, all the way to the tips of your fingers. John’s strong hands on your shoulders are all that save you from collapsing on him, as he spills salty cum into your mouth. You shudder with your aftershocks as you swallow him down, Tex’s fingers gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.
To say you collapse is an understatement. The three of you lay curled together as though you are nearly dead, unable to move for several minutes more. It’s John who recovers first, not shy about kissing you with his mitt of a hand holding your cheek, sliding down your neck, then teasing your nipple. You cry out for the overstimulation, squirming away, and Tex’s broad chest rumbles with low laughter behind you.
“See,” says Tex sleepily, always having to get in the last word. “I knew you’d cum ‘round.”
“If I could move, I would kick you,” you grumble, even as you nestle down on his arm beneath you, the swell of his bicep your pillow.
“Sticks and stones, rattlesnake,” he fires back softy into your hair, just this side of the line between awake and asleep.
“I’m going to gag you both,” John threatens, sounding just as tired, his hand on your waist. When you look to him through heavy lashes you see the slight curve of his smile, his dark eyes all for you.
You all fall into a deep slumber before he has to make good on the threat.
Sweetwolfcupcake:
When you wake up next time, you notice two things first--
One, that your clothes are not the same from last night, they smell fresh-- you smell fresh.
Second, despite the freshness, there is a dull ache between your legs and exhaustion in your limbs.
All you want to do is to remain in bed.
The bed... It smells fresh, too. You sigh, dream-like flashes of being in a tub with them come to you one by one. Were you so out of it?
Why wouldn't you be? They exhausted you, left you sore, reeling, and alone.
You don't realise the dull sting behind your eyes until you are blinking away tears.
You really are their plaything, aren't you?
And you could not even resist them, resist the temptation last night.
Frustrated and rather disappointed at yourself, yet not finding much heat to the fire as you would have liked, you sink further into the softness of the bedding, letting your tired limbs relax.
But the state does not last long, as you hear the door to the room being unlocked. You perk up- alert as a deer as you turn your head.
"Good morn'n, Rattlesnake! In mood to bite?"
You roll your eyes and let your head fall back. You have no energy for another round of war of words.
"Aww, are you all spent-up now? No hissin' ?"
And the most annoying person award goes to him.
But you hold back the biting reply at the tip of your tongue. Instead, choosing to nestle into the covers.
"You still sore down there?"
You frown, surprised at the question. Hid voice lack the usual biting playfulness, instead has a tinge of... something. You are almost afraid to say but, something like concern hides in his question.
But you mentally shake your head, Tex doesn't really care, neither of them care, according to your conclusions.
"I'm asking something."
The edge in his voice makes you glare back at him as he looms over the bed.
"I--Im--" Your mouth feels dry and throat, slightly irritated. "I'm good." You manage to finish after clearing your throat.
Tex's eyes remain locked with yours for a good moment before he nods and turns to the nightstand, pouring some water into a glass.
"Sit up now, breakfast's on comin'."
Your stomach grumbles at the word, and you are suddenly famished. Yes, breakfast would be good.
Only if you can eat alone.
Somehow, after last night, you do not want to face them. More embarrassed at yuyr broken resolution to not get tempted by them than afraid of them mocking you.
You are waiting for the stinging mockery, but for now, Tex shows no sign of it. Instead, he ushers you to sit up, and you do with a slight groan.
"Why are you being like this?"
The question slips out of you before you can think twice, and Tex rewards you with a smirk.
"Aww, I thought you'll like me better then."
He leans closer, invading your space like je owns it, owns you.
Fun fact, he doesn't.
"I don't like you." You narrow your eyes at him.
"Didn't feel that like last night, honey."
There was the mockery back in his tone. Strangely, a concerned, or even mildly sweet Tex puts you on edge more than an silent, observant John.
But you can't help the flush on your cheeks and neck at the mention if the previous night.
They pulled you to the heights you have never been before and sunk you to the depths you do not think you can be in again.
Before you can come up with an apt reply, the door opens again, and the quieter devil walks in with a tray in his hold.
Well, isn't it a lovely morning?
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
You shovel food and orange juice down your gullet like you’ve been starving for weeks. You feel like you have been starving for weeks. You have got to admit, whoever made this meal knows what they’re doing - no complaints from you as you stuff yourself with delicious eggs and thick buttery toast.
“Slow down, honey,” John says, catching your attention. You look up to see them both watching you eat like you’re some kind of circus freak.
You glower at him. “What, I’m not even allowed to eat like I want?”
It’s sort of like you’re a little honey bee using its dying stinger on an armored Rhino, because he just stares you down with a tiny crinkled warning at the corner of his eyes - you hate that you know enough about him to get nervous just from that look.
Tex snorts. “Told ya she’d get her bite back. Listen, little snake, you better start being nicer to the two men that decide whether you get to have orgasms or not.”
He laughs at your expression. “Oh no, don’t gimme that curled lip. It’s true.”
“Is that what I am?” You ask, batting your eyelashes and scrunching your nose - trying another approach. If being a bitch hasn’t worked so far, maybe adorable and pathetic will yield some results. “Am I a sex slave? Like, some kind of cheap whore.”
“Oh, my Bonnie lady,” Tex says, sitting on the edge of the bed and tucking a loc of hair behind your ear. “You are not some cheap whore.” For a minute, his expression turns genuine. Ah, so maybe acting like a sweet bimbo is the ticket.
“After all, 2.5 million dollars ain’t exactly cheap.” Your hopes are dashed as the wicked grin slides back onto his face like it belongs there permanently.
You can’t help it - you glare bullets into him. Fucking asshole.
After you’re done eating, John takes your plate out. You try and stand up, but your legs are still wacky inflatable wailing tube men. Tex picks you up in one swoop, even though you threaten to curse his family bloodline, and then carries you into the living room. Oh, this place is nice.
Open, white sandstone. Coral brick trim. A warm breeze drifting through gauzy cream curtains that you can’t quite see behind. Massive windows blocked by climbing vines. You don’t know much about architecture - you haven’t traveled - but it sort of looks like you’re in a rainforest bungalow.
“Where are we?” You ask Tex, wide eyed and open mouthed.
“I’ll tell you if you give me another kiss.”
Not a chance in hell, cowboy, you think, turning your head away.
John is sitting on the big red linen sectional, thumbing over some kind of electronic, sleek tablet. When he sees you, he beams a devastating smile that could snuff Tex’s cheeky grin any day. Maybe that’s just because he doesn’t smile a lot, though.
Your mouth can’t help but raise a little. Visions of last night are starting to flood back into your head, and, with John and Tex center in all of them, you’re getting shyer and more embarrassed by the minute.
There’s a reason for the aching soreness between your legs and your inability to stand for more than five seconds: They had fucked the absolute shit out of you. On the bed several times, in the bathtub, on the counter, tongues and teeth and hands and cocks stretching you and filling to the brim. Pretty soon, it had turned into a contest of who could make you scream the loudest, or who could make you beg harder, or who could transform you into a babbling, incoherent, mindless set of holes. And then they started working together again, giving a new meaning to the word human fucktoy.
The verdict is clear, you are definitely now an expensive whore.
“C’mere,” John murmurs, holding out his arms for Tex to hand you over. They pass you along like you’re a pampered kitten instead of a grown woman, and John curls you up on his lap. He gives your head a little kiss. “How are you feeling? Any unbearable discomfort?”
“Yes. Please. I need to go to a hospital right away.” You roll your eyes.
“That mean you’re ready for another round?” Tex asks, toying with the hem of your silky nightie.
You practically climb up John’s chest to get away from him. “No. No. Too much.”
John unhooks your arms from his head, looking all too amused, and settles you back into his lap. He completely ignores the back and forth between Tex and you, opting instead to pull up something on his device and show Tex.
“Really? What in the fuck.” Tex raises an eyebrow. “He’s either dumb or stupid.”
You look between them, oblivious.
John speaks like he’s having a casual picnic conversation. “We’re going to kill Bradford. How do you want us to do it?”
For once, you’re looking at Tex for help.
He shrugs. “Ladies choice.”
Johnwickb1tsch:
It dawns on you with horror that these two men are trying to draw you even further into complicity with the horrible events of the past couple of days. If you help plot Bradford's death--youre not a hapless victim anymore.
You'd be an accomplice.
"I don't want him dead," you say quietly. "Jesus, you're not putting that on me."
"After what he did to you?" asks John, genuinely surprised. "He betrayed you."
"He's an asshole. Yeah. But...what about his kids? His wife?"
John just looks at you blankly. Tex, however, is not so skilled at hiding his emotions, his handsome features pulled in a frown.
"Guess that's what we get for tryin' to do somethin' nice." Rather incongruously, he pulls your feet into his lap, squeezing them in his big hands. That part, at least, feels heavenly. Everything is sore...but why do your feet hurt?
So how do you break it to your assassin boyfriends--lovers?--captors??-- that murder is not the best gift for a sweetheart?
John just sighs, and you can't help but feel like you've disappointed him.
"She's kinda ungrateful, isn't she? Maybe we should teach her a lesson." Suddenly Tex's hold on your feet becomes restraining.
"Hey!"
You look to John for help, but his arms just tighten around your waist. You have gone from pampered kitten to mouse in a trap in two seconds flat.
"When someone offers you a gift, you say Thank you."
"Murder is not a gift," you snarl, pushing at him with your heels. It's fruitless, of course, but it does make him smile. He slides to the floor, wedging his body between your legs, and you are fucked.
Maybe literally as much as figuratively.
"What if it's his life or yours?" asks John behind you.
"What do you mean?"
"He's talking to reporters."
"And he is not tellin' the story he was paid to."
You look down at Tex who is grazing his teeth against the inside of your knee, almost absently, like a puppy gnawing on a toy.
"It could put us all at risk."
You blink, not sure what to make of all this. "...Why would he do that? Surely he knows you would go after him?"
"Maybe he's settin' a trap. Tryin' to smoke us out."
"Then doesn't it make sense to lay low here?" you ask hopefully.
"Aww, she wants us at home," purrs Tex. "But there is the principle of the matter. Poor Johnny boy'll be goin' broke pretty soon here, payin' Bradford first for information, then for silence, and then he's gotta pay you..." The man flashes you a shit eating grin, and you can hear the rest on the tip of his tongue.
The whore.
"Sounds like that makes me his whore, cowboy. Maybe you shouldn't be touching me." His hand had been sliding slowly up your thigh as he ran his mouth, which was kinda nice, but now you smack it like a naughty boy caught with his paw in the cookie jar.
At first he's actually surprised--by the snap of the sound, or that you would even dare. Then an evil little grin curls his full lips, his dark eyes glittering like you just handed him a marvelous gift. "John, where's that rope? The fancy stuff you were talkin' about?"
John, however, is still as a statue behind you, considering his answer.
Suddenly, he stands with you in his arms. You clutch at him for the sudden loss of gravity, but he is solid and unyielding in his grip of you. "Sorry, but she raises a good point. I think I've earned some alone time with my darling."
He strides for the bedroom, and you peek over his broad shoulder at Tex, who watches you go with a rather forlorn look on his stupidly handsome face. He narrows his eyes though, when he catches you looking. You flip him the bird behind John's back, knowing full well you'll pay for it later...but God it feels good. 🖕
Sweetwolfcupcake:
You smell, feel, and hear the tension even before he is inside the bedroom again. But the moment he slams the door shut, the deafening sound rings all kinds of warning bells inside you.
Okay, okay, you were being a smart mouth a few moments ago. You wanted to piss off the meaner of the two, horned-hell crawlers. But now, when John marches towards the bed, you feel regret, fear and anticipation creeping in like a deadly cocktail.
You can't see his face first, but the moment he drops you on the bed, you can.
Oh boy,
You have dug your own grave.
You realise this while you are trying to back away, an involuntary movement, as if your body understands the danger much before your mind processes it.
"Now, now-- this would be cheating, no backing down." His heavy hand comes to cease her movements with ease.
His voice is honeyed, his touch still soft but his eyes, his eyes are the grounds of clashes-- softness with a steely resolve, burning hunger and cold malice. This...this is what you are scared of.
This is why he is a dangerous man-- he can't be deciphered, he can't be read but he knows himself, and he knows you, he reads you like a school book and every time he would urge, you know you will open up to him, bend to his whims.
" John..." the name slips out of you like a habit, but it is not supposed to be a habit. It is supposed to be a warning, your last attempt to save your soul, your heart, and yourself. "I think---"
"You think after your mouth moves,"
He smirks, as if he has been waiting for the slip-up. Maybe he has been indeed waiting. Like a patient tiger.
His lips are soft, almost delicate on yours, your thoughts melt as his lips mould with yours as if sculpted to be one with you, as if you both are the perfect sculptures of ancient lovers, marbled into immortality.
He steals your breath, along with your thoughts and perhaps most of your sense of self-preservation as you let his hands lay heavy on your thighs and pull down the oh-so-comfortable shorts. You let him, because you hardly feel it.
You hardly feel, see, or even hear anything beyond the kiss, beyond the sensation of his lips on yours, his breathing mixing with yours. And when he finally pulls away, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips to his, your eyes open to his dark, passionate, but oddly calm orbs-- like he has jumped into a fire-pit, but he knows what he is doing.
He obviously knows what he is doing because you realise your half-naked state only after he has settled himself between your knees, holding down your thighs and spreading them open like he has just discovered a treasure box.
"WAIT! Wait---"
Your voice is cut short into silent, gasps and heavy breathing with shivering forms as his fingers reach in between, swiping over your opening, flicking over your pearl with practised ease and precision-- he does not even have to try, he has you glistening and shaking even before you can scramble through your thoughts and push for an arguement.
The desired, needed argument never truly comes. All that comes through are meaningless worlds, half-hearted protests and the sounds you do not even realise you make.
"It's okay to give in, you know...What's the point of fighting anyway?"
His fingers move with purpose this time, eyes gleaming as if you are a puzzle, a challenge for him to undo, to solve, to disarm. And mostly, he does, he almost wins. Until this question. Like he is challenging yu, testing you.
What's the point of fighting this? These insane circumstances?
"Because---because I'm not a plaything!" You grit out, now fighting the steady build of pleasure as your body threatens to bend to his will.
Not a whore!
You want to scream that on their stupidly handsome faces, but you know that it might not be in your best interest-- screaming at them.
To your surprise, he stops, just as you are about to have your eyes rolled back. You are breathless against his calm, frowning face. It is the rare times you can read his eyes-- confusion, surprise and something else that you cannot point out blooms in them.
"You... you are not a plaything." His voice is soft, but sure, like his eyes.
Yes, you do notice his pretty-brown eyes, which look deceptively sweet. The man is a beguiling as a whole. Hiding his horns so well under his smooth, soft hair, his hunger behind his kind eyes and his brutality, under the soft touch, the gentle hold.
But this time, you do not fall for it. You raise an eyebrow, almost smiling sarcastically.
"Oh yeah?"
Something in his eyes shifts, something in his whole form, his aura, shifts.
"Yeah."
There is a hardness to it. And somehow, this time, it does not scare you. Instead, a certain warmth shows its tiny, unsure head, just touching the surface, scared to break, but it is there.
"Yeah, because I-- we, do not fake a death for a plaything."
He continues, pulling you closer, simultaneously, pushing his finger back into you. You grasp and scramble for an anchor, conveniently finding his shoulders.
"Because, I won't topple a whole damn empire, for a plaything."
His voice only hardens, as his gaze meets yours, while his finger digs deeper, making a heat erupt in you that threatens to consume you.
"Because Tex won't be risking it all, erasing all that is left of your previous poor, miserable life, just to keep you, if you were a plaything, to him, to us."
He growls into your ear, pulling you flush against him, adding another finger before they curve into the perfect angle, reaching your sweet spot and you bite your lip, threatening to draw blood while trying to keep a sane mind-- at least sane enough to absorb his words.
"Because we don't trace the medical history of our plaything just to make sure nothing, nothing bad touches her but us."
He sounds almost unhinged and it should be concerning how less bothered you are by this. How can this be bothering you when you feel like a ship stuck in a storm? Threatened, tossed around by waves of pleasure while you desperately hold on to the very source of your plight.
"Oh--John!"
"Tell me, honey, does that sound like us playing?"
You want to shake your head but all you can do is to gasp and inhale as much air as you can, as if you are drowning. You are not. But you are thrumming as your eyes roll back and you moan aloud, feeling yourself gushing around his still-moving but slowed fingers. You bend to the crook of his neck, rocking your hips against his fingers. You feel the intensity of it as it washes over you, leaving a serene tiredness behind.
But he is far from done.
"A Plaything is not studied, not observed, not cared for, not kissed like I kiss you." John hisses, pulling his fingers out, your essence glazed over them.
He does not wait for your response. Simply, pushes you down until you are flat on your back, and despite the t-shirt covering your upper half, you have never felt more exposed.
He tilts his head at the T-shirt before, in an abrupt, yet buttery motion, he tore it apart. And while you do gasp in surprise, it sends a tingle down your spine and makes your core throb. There is a different gleam in his eyes this time.
"We do not turn against our codes just for a plaything. We did it for you-- risked it all for you..." He leans in to kiss you again and this time, you welcome it with open arms.
The feeling of his intimidating length against your opening makes you gulp with nerves and anticipation. You are sore still, but so ready for him. As if you are made for him. For them.
Are the words true?
Is he telling you the truth?
"We don't do after FBI agents for playthings, honey, get those stupid thoughts fucking out of your little head." he hisses as he pushes in, slow but barely restrained.
There is a sincere madness in his eyes, in his tone, as if the mask of 'civilised' just meted before your eyes and all you can see, through the inky strands hanging, those raw, primal eyes that remind you of an apex predator right before it bites and tear into its prey.
He decks down too, and you almost expect him to sink his teeth into your skin, draw blood, and tear you apart. But you only feel his teeth graze against your skin, as if tasting, sniffing before he thrusts in, eliciting a short, sharp scream from you.
It feels full, yet not full enough. There is a dull but pleasant throb and you crave more, legs tempted to wrap around his hips. But you feel so spent, so conflicted, so ready, so good-- the odd mix of emotions frustrates you to the point of tears.
Is this how you surrender to this? To your fate?
Is this how the conflict ends? Or is it the beginning of a war.
"By the way..."
John speaks through his moving hips, lips and teeth on your skin, measuring, tracing, marking.
"Whether you want to or not, Bradford dies. And he dies a sorry death for trying to snatch away what isn't his."
Are you really out of your mind, or does this sound like a dark promise?
#john wick#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#yandere john wick#tex johnson#yandere tex johnson#yandere#wicked johnson fic#omfg yep that's a thing now 🤣🤣
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"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]
[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader
[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?
[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)
[Word Count:] ≈2.7k
[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)
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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.
Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.
Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.
She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.
"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.
"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.
And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.
George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)
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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.
It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.
What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"
Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.
"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.
"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."
George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.
"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"
The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.
"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.
"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.
He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.
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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.
Nothing's going to stop him now.
His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.
"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.
"So... Today's a Friday, right?"
She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."
"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"
"Pretty sure you can, why?"
"Want to go on a date?"
She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.
"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'
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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.
He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.
"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.
"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.
"You're adorable when you're flustered."
"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.
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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.
If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.
So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.
Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.
Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.
She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"
She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.
"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"
Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."
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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.
He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.
The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.
"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.
"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.
"And what have you done to lose said house point?"
She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.
"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.
"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"
"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.
Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"
"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"
"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.
"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.
"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."
"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.
"It's really not that good--"
"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.
"Are you actually giving this to me?"
She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.
"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."
"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"
"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"
He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.
They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.
He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.
He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.
"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.
"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.
"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"
"Double the original price—?"
"And the tip?"
"And the tip."
#george weasley fanfiction#george weasley fluff#george weasley x reader#george weasley x fem!reader#george weasley x ravenclaw!reader#george weasley x hufflepuff!reader#george weasley x slytherin!reader#george weasley x gryffindor!reader#george weasley fic#george weasley#george weasley x y/n#oml this is long
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kinktober day 3; momo + mirror sex
she lets you wrap your arms around her waist and peck her neck while she decided which accessories looked best with her dress, glass- closet doors helping her evaluate it all. “i really have to go” momo chuckles when your hands start trailing up and back to the back of her dress where the zipper was located.
“i know” you pout “you’re gonna leave me here alone and all worked up while you talk about stuff like stocks and galas” your arms wrap around her again, only this time tighter as you sigh into her neck.
“i told you, you’re welcome to come. if you can get dressed in fifteen minutes” she finally decides on a necklace and hands it to you, hoping you picked up her silent asking for you to put it on her.
“i can’t get dressed in fifteen minutes but i can make you cum in front of this mirror” the necklace clicks when it’s successfully latched, and your fiance shakes her head, rolling her eyes and putting an earring all at the same time.
“i’m gonna be late” excuses, she wants you to fuck her in front of the mirror, she always does, and she knows you’re going to make her cum in less than 15 minutes, but then she has to basically get ready all over again because you’re known for making a mess out of her in the most inconvenient times.
“you’re telling me you’re not going to get there early and sit in your car for 45 minutes until your associates arrive?” you watch her silently think it over in the mirror, her eyes agreeing “i’m only asking for 15, ill help you clean up in 10 and you will still get there 5 minutes too early to even be on time.
“fine” giving in, she sighs “but take this off me first, and don’t ruin my makeup.”
you keep silence while you undo the zipper of her dress and then speak. “can’t promise that, mommy”
“will you get on all fours for me, please?” you tap her ass in affection and turn around, grabbing the first strap your hand touched. you don’t take that much to put it on, and when you’re back, she’s already on the floor, just like you asked her to, waiting patiently. “these are still on? you know you’re going to have to change them anyways luv”
“just move them to the side, hurry” even though you roll your eyes you still obey, spitting on the tip of the toy and rubbing the growing amount of arousal all over her cunt.
eventually, you push it in, smirking at the way she gasps and her back arches slightly. it’s a slow but deep pace, you make sure she feels every part of the toy no matter the speed you use. “uh-uh, look up, look at yourself in the mirror. look at yourself while i fuck you”
“o-okay” her knuckles are turning white due to how hard she was gripping but she does manage to lift her head up and look. sometimes her eyes (and so do yours) go to her tits bouncing back and forth even in the tight-strapless bra she’s wearing because of how hard your hips snap against hers when you bottom out.
“feels n-nice”
“that’s it? nice?” you chuckle, leaning over to press your fingers on her clit “i told you to keep your eyes on yourself”
“s-sorry” she tries her best, she really does, but her head keeps falling down whenever you hit a spot inside of her or when you press just right against her clit. “fuck me faster”
“a little bossy aren’t we” you scoff “im gonna make you cum regardless of how fast i fuck you, you know that”
“yeah but-“
“shh” you don’t give in to her wishes but instead pull her by the hair, holding her there to make sure she’s actually looking at herself and no longer letting her head fall down every time you hit a good spot.
“don’t you like looking at yourself?” she tries to listen and process your question before answering “don’t you like the way you look when i fuck you?
“i do, i love it.” she cries, squinting her eyes shut. “i love looking at myself when you fuck me”
“i wanna cum- please” her voice is whimper-y and she is definitely out of breath but she still attempts to talk.
“already? it’s been less than 15 baby”
“i don’t care” momo shakes her head, some of the hair that had escaped your hand wiggling with it. “please just let me cum”
“do it.” you let go of her hair just to tap her face slightly, as if giving her the go to cum. she doesn’t need it tho, because she instinctively cries out and lets her head fall down when she cums, the arms that were holding her up shaking and threatening to give out as the waves of extasis ripple through her.
she needs a moment, before she can get up and try to get dressed without your help. but you wouldn’t let her do that, you made sure to get a cloth to clean any of her cum that could have gotten in her thighs and help her get out of her dirty underwear into a clean pair. “let me zip you up my love”
momo stands in front of you, still trying to get her breath back as you zip the back of her dress again. “you did so good for me baby” kissing her shoulder, you let her pass to the vanity stool to fix her hair that you had messed up. “have fun tonight okay?”
“i will, i’ll miss you tho” she pecks your lips with a pout
“i’ll be here when you come back” you peck her lips this time holding her cheeks to deepen it the slightest bit “you look beautiful by the way”
“thank you baby” this is like the third peck, but she knows you’re gonna send her off soon
“you need to go if you still wanna be five minutes early” both of you chuckle as she nods and gives you one last kiss, this one deeper and longer than the rest. “i love you” you say as she walks out of your room ready for her dinner, but she makes sure not to leave without reciprocating the three words.
#why did this kind of get fluffy at the end#sub!momo#my stuff#twice imagine#twice smut#twice x reader#twice imagines#momo imagine#momo imagines#momo x reader#momo smut
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Speak my Language (Fellowship x Hurt! Reader)
Synopsis: After being ambushed by orcs, you are left alone at your isolated camp to bleed out. However, your loyal friend, a “tyger” from Far Harad, has other plans in mind—tracking down another camp nearby, comprised of nine warriors, in search of aid for you.
Pairings: a bit of Legolas x Reader. I’m a simp for him, okay?
Warnings: blood, mentions of an attack, hurt/comfort
The attack came too fast and too swiftly. Orcs weren’t supposed to reside in this area of the forest, or so you thought. It was almost as if something were driving them to your location, like dolphins chasing down fish to the shores of oceans.
Whatever may be the case, and whoever the fish in this scenario were, you were the one left severely injured.
It started with a flickering of your tyger’s ear. Comrade, as you named him, was an exotic breed of big cat, from the furthermost southern jungles of Far Harad, where the likes of oliphaunts also roamed.
You had met the large orange, striped cat on a mission to spring all kinds of animals free on the southern shores of Middle-earth. The Haradrim were responsible for this illegal smuggling trade, though you knew someone far larger was behind it.
A mystery was unfolding in Middle-earth before your eyes. Orcs in odd locations, secret illicit activities in dark harbours, and a growing disbalance in the ecosystem.
Setting the stampeding oliphaunts loose, the wooden crates on the foggy harbour soon burst into chaos. Men ran everywhere, both trying to save themselves and their jobs.
As ropes and hooks were cast into the grey flesh of the loudly trumpeting beasts, you snuck out. However, on your escape route, a rabid, hissing animal caught your attention.
You had never seen a cat like him before, and knew instantly he was out of sorts amongst the scenery of Middle-earth. What on earth would he need stripes to blend in with? You figured he was more used to tall savannahs, if anything.
Tentatively, and knowing all could go wrong for yourself, you unlatched the lock containing your soon-to-be friend.
He leapt out and crouched lowly before you, arching his back and sizing up your neck. His teeth were large and yellow at the gums, as he flashed them viciously.
However, making the first move, you slowly showed him your empty hands, and kneeled down. A slight change in his attitude was present, as his hisses ceased and his ears unpinned themselves.
And when a Haradrim man came at you, well, all that was left were ribbons of flesh and a new partner for you.
Ever your noble protector, Comrade lifted his head from your lap, where you were running your hands through his now twitching ears.
“What is it, boy?” you cooed, tracing the black stripes on his head.
A low growl had begun to form at the back of his throat, and you stilled your hand. Though a level of trust had been formed between you both throughout the three years you walked alongside him, he was still a wild animal at the end of the day.
You took into account the twitching of his tail, and your heart stopped. You always feared Comrade might one day turn around and attack you like he did to those Haradrim. Small housecats were bad enough with mood-swings as it was.
Eyeing up his large paws, where claws the size of small shanks appeared, you grew clammy. However, a distant snapping of a branch beyond the dark trees both settled and rose your nerves.
Glancing up from Comrade, you followed his keen line of sight past your little campfire. You stared for what felt like minutes, until another branch snapping sounded the alarms.
Comrade immediately lifted himself from your lap, and stood tall. The power in his sudden movement scared you, and you found yourself jolting to your own feet.
All you had on you was a small dagger, for you liked to think of yourself as a “wise pacifist”.
You drew it in front of yourself, and scared breaths racked your chest. Comrade was pacing the dirt in front of you, eyes forever trained on the forest, tail swishing.
And then, the attack came.
A slaughter occurred between the trees and before the fire, and though you managed to assist with many kills, Comrade in the end was the clear victor.
However, one tyger against ten orcs was not entirely fair.
In the aftermath, you found yourself with your back rested against a tree—your hand clutching a dagger in your abdomen.
Orcs bodies lay strewn around, some missing heads, others with their intestines spilled on the upturned dirt. Most, however, had their jugulars torn out.
Comrade had just put to rest his last orc, and turned his panting, blood-soaked snout back to you at the sound of a small whimper. The previously feral glint in his eyes subsided, as he observed your mewling state.
Your hand clutched the pommel of the dagger, as you struggled to not look at it—favouring to keep your eyes screwed shut instead, and your chin lifted high.
He immediately thudded one paw in front of the other, as he came to stand beside you. He sniffed the dagger, and made a small sound reminiscent of chuffing to your face. He nudged his nose with your cheek, willing you to look at him.
When you did, you found amber eyes, brimming with concern, looking back at you.
“I wasn’t fast enough,” you tried with a small smile, but mewled again through the pain of speaking.
He chuffed once more, and tried to inspect the dagger. You gently pushed his head away, knowing there wasn’t much he could do.
Understanding the severity of your state, he lifted his neck and stood tall. Flickering his ears in all directions, Comrade scoped out the forest. He could hear the sounds of night for many miles—owls hooting, mice rustling, squirrels climbing and…men chatting lowly around a crackling fire.
They did not sound like orcs, and turning his nose to the air above, Comrade knew instantly they were not. Instead, the scent of men and elves lingered in the breeze, and something new he hadn’t encountered before.
Without glancing back at you, he took off running through the woods.
Watching him leave in confusion, you knitted your brows. However, the throbbing split in your stomach soon burned away again, and you were left crying alone through bared teeth.
On the other side of the forest, just a few miles away, the Fellowship’s camp resided. The loss of Gandalf still rippled through the colleagues and friends like an unsettled lake, and not much was found beyond quiet chatter.
The topic, primarily, was of Lothlorien—the beautiful kingdom they had just reluctantly left.
Sat on a log, and grimacing as he ate rabbit meat off of a bone—quite different from the prepared salads with small chunks of chicken he had grown up with—Legolas watched the fire.
His fingers were sticky, and his nose was scrunched, as he attempted to eat said meat.
Next, Gimli’s chuckles filled the air.
The laughter silenced everyone, for it was the first time anyone had laughed since Moria.
Lifting his eyes, Legolas found Gimli laughing at him. “What is it?”
“A bit out of your comfort zone, aren’t we?” Gimli chuckled back, motioning to the prince’s fingers.
Legolas’ lips fell into a sarcastic frown. “That’s because I was actually raised with the idea of comfort to begin with.”
Gimli dismissively waved his hand. “All I’m hearing is pretty excuses.”
Legolas placed a sticky hand over his chest, and batted his lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”
A smirk grew on Gimli’s lips, as he pointed at the faint outline of grease on Legolas’ Lothlorien tunic.
Losing his own smirk, Legolas looked down at the clothing and sneered upon realizing his mistake.
Laughter rippled through the camp, and a few added on their own taunts in an effort to keep the happy atmosphere alive, even if at the prince’s expense.
However, Legolas had since tuned out. His head was over his shoulder, his pointed ears twitching, as he eyed off the forest behind. Distantly, snapping twigs and thudding paws could be heard.
“Don’t you think, Legolas?” Boromir laughed, slowly reeling the elf’s concerned attention back in to him. “Legolas? I said, don’t you—”
“Shh!” Legolas cut him off, whipping his head over his shoulder again.
Aragorn was the first to cease his relaxed nature, as he knew the cautious elf well-enough.
“Someone’s a bit of a soft—” Gimli had gone to say, before Legolas shushed him again.
Snapping his eyes to his friends, Legolas hastily whispered, “Do you not hear that?”
“We don’t have your—”
“Hush, let him speak,” Aragorn interjected, earning the obedience of the camp. “What is it, Legolas?”
“Something large and ambitious approaches from behind,” Legolas answered, scanning his eyes over his shoulder again.
Just as the elf did, the Fellowship dragged their sights along the trees. Slowly, following Legolas’ words and now actions, the entire camp rose to their feet and clutched their weapons.
The hobbits all nervously eyed one another, as the four stronger warriors stood in front. They each all watched the trees, and their hearts pounded faster, for they, too, could now hear what Legolas was explaining.
Loud thumps reached their ears, as did beastly panting. Legolas drew an arrow, and aimed it in preparation.
And then, Comrade burst into the camp.
The hobbits screamed in shock—in fact, both Gimli and Boromir shouted, too.
The tyger paced before them all, chuffing loudly in communication. Legolas, understanding all living things, heard the tyger speak.
Please! I need your help! My friend, she’s hurt—wounded by orcs!
Legolas lowered his arrow, much to the horror of the others.
“What are you doing?” Boromir screeched. “Shoot it down! It’s rabid! Look at the blood coating its mouth!”
“It is orc blood,” Legolas slowly drew out, knitting his brows in the direction of the tyger. “And he says he needs our help?”
Aragorn glanced at Legolas wide-eyed, and they shared a look—one dripping in superior knowledge.
Legolas made a show of disarming himself of his bow, and spoke back to the tyger in a way only elves could.
Take us to her.
The tyger turned around instantly, and began running into the woods. Aragorn and Legolas followed.
“Wait,” Pippin exclaimed in confusion, as everyone left him behind. “Has he always been able to speak with animals?! Did everyone else know this but me?!”
“Hurry up, Pippin!”
Comrade had left you twenty minutes ago, and you felt an uncontrollable shiver run through your body. It was a shiver that, despite being close to the fire, was continuous.
Your teeth chattered, and your stomach coiled at the blood soaking you. It was all over the front of your tunic, and continuing to spread. You hadn’t removed the dagger as of yet—too afraid of both the consequences and the pain simultaneously.
You felt both dizzy and tired, and only wanted a nap. Just as you were beginning to close your eyes, frantic thudding in the distance could be heard.
Weakly, you turned your eyes to the trees Comrade had left through, and waited for either your friend or more orcs to appear.
However, what you were not expecting, was a blonde elf to burst through the dark with your tyger.
The tall elf skidded to a stop a few yards before you, and gasped sharply. His widened eyes raked over your paling, clammy body in alarm.
“Oh my goodness!” he cussed, before throwing his eyes over his shoulder. “Aragorn! Come quickly!”
Next, a man burst into view. Behind him, another man, dwarf and four hobbits followed. Though, for all you knew, they were children.
White dots filled your vision, and you soon felt very delirious, as if in a dream.
The elf rushed forwards, and fell to his knees beside you. He brushed your hair out of your face to observe your half-lidded eyes, where he then spoke.
“Y/n? Y/n, are you all right? Your friend, Comrade, told me of you. Can you hear me?”
All you could make out of his face were two brilliantly blue eyes. A white, angelic light encompassed him otherwise, and the blonde hair certainly didn’t help.
You garnered a sort of dazed smile, as you scanned his blinding face. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Sent from above? Oh thank goodness—I thought I was going to go alone.”
Listening to your soft voice, the brunette man with greasy hair dropped beside the elf.
“Her strength fails and her light fades,” Aragorn commented. He scanned his eyes over your wound. “I shall use athelas to treat the bleeding, but…this may be beyond us.”
Legolas looked at Aragorn in horror, before looking down at you again. Two deaths on his hands in such a short amount of time? The immortal elf couldn’t—wouldn’t—process it.
“We are not yet too far from Lothlorien,” Legolas pointed out, studying your tired face. “We can turn around and leave her in the hands of Galadriel and her kin. They will heal her.”
“We haven’t time to double-back and risk the orcs,” Boromir pointed out.
Next, Legolas gestured at all the strewn bodies of the camp. “It appears our fault she dies in the first place. She felt safe enough to camp in these woods, and rightfully so, but we brought the orcs with us. We must help her. She’s our duty now.”
“Legolas is right,” Aragorn agreed, crushing athelas in his hands with water from his pouch. “The orcs are only in these woods because they track us. Legolas, you are the fastest here and know these trees second-best to me. You will take her back to Lothlorien and then take the journey three times faster to catch up with us.”
Legolas nodded his head in understanding, and felt your hand. It was cold, shivering and sweaty. He swallowed his nerves.
“You might want to hold her further,” Aragorn quietly pointed out to Legolas, gesturing to your hand.
The elf noticed the prepared athelas paste, and the ranger’s hand hovering over the intruding dagger’s pommel. Next, Aragorn spoke to you.
“Y/n, my name is Aragorn. I am going to help heal you, and then Legolas here will rush you back to Lothlorien. I am going to remove the dagger to decrease further injury. It will hurt for a moment. Do you understand?”
“Legolas?” you repeated in confusion, looking up at the aforementioned prince. “Oh, yes—him. He’s an angel.”
Aragorn smiled briefly, especially at the creeping blush on his friend’s pointed ears, until you looked back at him and took into account his dirty presentation. “You, on the other hand, are not an angel.”
Comrade, having been pacing the dirt on your free side, came to lay beside you, recognising what was about to happen next.
Aragorn politely curled his lips at your delirious insult, and quickly tore the dagger from your abdomen.
As if supporting a woman through birth, Legolas’ mewls were louder than your own, for the hand of yours he held clenched tightly.
Aragorn got to work quickly, and began applying the athelas to your now bleeding wound. You cried softly, as you felt the pain both grow and lessen.
Finding comfort through your dizzy haze in the thumbpad stroking your knuckles, you squeezed the same hand again, and were pleasantly surprised to find it squeezing back.
Gimli, Boromir and the hobbits watched on—nervously observing both the tyger lying beside you, and your hurt form.
“Lothlorien is a night’s run behind us. She needs a different tunic to reduce the risk of infection,” said Aragorn, using a makeshift cloth to wipe the blood away from you.
Legolas pressed his lips into a thin line, and nodded. He briefly let go of your hand, much to your vocal discomfort, and grabbed the bottom hems of his tunic. He lifted the green material over his head, and was left with nothing but a long-sleeved, white undershirt.
As Aragorn wrapped your chest with what he could find on him that’d temporarily work as a bind, Legolas patiently waited.
After your wound was tended to, Aragorn leant over to speak with you. “Your wound is dressed, Y/n. Legolas will now take care of you until Lothlorien. You are in good, capable hands. I promise.”
You mustered the strength to nod back, despite white dots still filling your vision.
Aragorn clasped Legolas’ shoulder and nodded, to which he nodded back. Then, the ranger turned and told the rest of the Fellowship to head back to camp.
Having ensured everyone was out of sight, Legolas looked down at you again.
“May I please change your tunic? I will close my eyes, but it has to be done—the blood will lead to infection if not dealt with.”
However, you stilled gazed up at him with a silly smile. Considering all he wore was now white, you believed your suspicions of him being an angel correct.
After a moment, his words finally drifted through your mind, like a lone leaf on a lazy river, and you nodded.
Legolas raised a hand to the hem of your tunic, and hooked his fingers underneath, but was halted by the sudden growling and standing of Comrade.
You dare touch her in such a state? I sought you out for help!
I am an elven prince, mellon. Trust me when I say; it is not even remotely possible in my genetic nature to do such a thing.
Well, trust me when I say; it is most definitely in my genetic nature to go for the jugular—always.
Understood, but you must let me help her. Have we not done so already? Let me complete assisting her, and then you shall follow me to Lothlorien.
The snarling lips of the tyger curled for a minute, as he stared across at the determined elf over your body—face to face.
Slowly, his growls died.
Fine. Just know, however, I am watching you every step of the way.
Well, that makes one of us.
As he promised, Legolas closed his eyes. He carefully, but swiftly lifted your blood-soaked tunic and tossed it aside.
Fumbling for a few minutes, as he did so blind, Legolas dressed you in his own green tunic. It was large on you, more like a short dress, but did the job of concealing your wounded form.
At some point, you had nearly drifted off to sleep, but a gentle cooing of Legolas brought you back.
“Hey, you must stay awake for now, all right? I am going to carry you to a lovely kingdom, and you will be taken care of. All I ask in return is that you keep me company with conversation the whole way. Can you please do that for me?”
Exhaling past your nose through your fatigue, you fluttered your hazy eyes open again.
Searching Legolas’ own, you nodded.
“Okay,” you promised.
“Good girl,” Legolas replied. He then gently scooped you into his arms like a bride, and checked in with Comrade.
Are you a fast runner?
Is that even a question?
To further his point, Comrade sprinted off into the trees, leaving Legolas jogging behind him. And, just as you promised, you spoke softly to him the whole way—mostly of his “angelic eyes”—and he delivered on his promise, of quite literally delivering you to Lothlórien.
Surprising Legolas most, however, was the new promise you made after healing by the aid of Galadriel’s hand, just a few days after your arrival.
Upon learning of what exactly was disturbing your ecosystem in Middle-earth, you told Legolas he would not be making the journey back to his friends alone, for he had gained two new ones.
#Legolas x reader#Legolas imagine#Legolas x reader imagine#lotr imagine#lotr x reader#fellowship of the ring x reader#fellowship of the ring#lord of the rings#lotrdaily#lotr movies#the hobbit#elves#hobbit#legolas#mirkwood#lotr Legolas#Aragorn x reader#Aragorn imagine#Aragorn reader imagine#Boromir#frodo#Sam#pippin#merry#Tolkien
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