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praisehoes-and-runovervirgins · 3 years

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Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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You hold the last box of your belongings close to your chest and take a deep breath nervously pressing the button to your new home. Wow, that sounds weird. Sharing a home with the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Your chest tightens. “God, I better not fuck this up” you mumble to yourself as the pent house suite door opens. Noah stands in clear view of the door as it opens. You walk into the apartment. “Y/N'' he yells at the top of his voice. “Where were you? I didn’t see you. I was worried, '' he said all in one breath. He wraps his arms around your leg and takes a deep inhale.

You look at him confused and put the box down. You have to tear him off you so you can kneel down to give him your daily bear hug. As you do, you notice his teary puffy eyes. You look at him puzzled then suddenly, almost like something in you woke up you panic, “Are you okay baby?” you grab him by the arm and turn him around manically looking for a source of pain. He doesn’t answer. You grab his leg and pull his PJ's up to continue looking for some sort of bruise, anything physical that would explain him crying. “He was crying cause he didn’t see you” a voice said walking past you and Noah. You look up at Liam grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. His face looked disinterested. “He woke up and he didn't see you, he thought you left,” he said, rubbing the apple on his shirt. You lock eyes for a moment as you try to read into his expression. Fuck, he’s just like his dad, so hard to make out what he’s thinking. The sniffles coming from Noah make you break your eye contact. You look at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m okay. Please don’t cry. I just thought..” he jumps on you again, this time throwing you both onto the floor. “I’m not leaving Noah” you say, squeezing him tight. You didn’t even notice when your eyes were wet before Noah pushed back on you. He wipes the tears out your eyes. You smile at him softly. A few moments with Noah went on about how he’s so excited about your room and how it’s really close to theirs. Where’s Bakugou? You look around distracted as Noah goes on. “He’s upstairs” Liam says walking towards you with a napkin. He hands it to you and turns on his heel as he takes another bite of his apple. You sit there stunned, holding the soft piece of tissue in your hand. “Did you hear what I said?” Liam says, grabbing your face with both hands and then smashing his face into your neck. “Let’s go find your dad, yeah?” you say as you start to pick Noah up.

Bakugou is on the floor, legs crossed as he’s holding a piece of your unmade bed frame. He has his phone pressed against his ear and shoulder. “I already told you I don’t want to go on another date with her” he growled into the phone. “Well, that’s not my problem. I don’t care what the public thinks about us.” he says a little louder. “Daddy!” Noah says running, throwing himself on his back. “Hey buddy” Bakugou says, ending the call in one swipe of his finger and tossing it on his lap. “What were you talking about?” he says, gripping Bakugou's neck a bit too hard. “You're trying to kill me buddy” Bakugou says, letting out a quick laugh as he releases Noah's hands off his neck. They sit there laughing for a little. I love seeing them like this. It’s so different from how the rest of the world sees him. Bakugou looks at you leaning on the door and cracks a smirk. “Are you gonna come into your new room or what?” he says, turning around to face Noah again. You feel like the wind was knocked out of you when he looks at you even for a second. I’m going to have to live with this man. You got this y/n? You steady yourself and walk over to them. You kneel down on the floor next to Bakugou, “Do you need help? I am pretty helpful with these types of things” you say taking the piece of wood off the floor. “For starters, this was supposed to go in that thing” you say giggling. “Ah fuck” he says rolling his eyes. “HEY, WATCH YOUR MOUTH” Noah scolds him. You all break out in laughter. You spend the rest of the morning setting up your new bed set. You told bakugou that you could just use the one you had in your old apartment but he insisted on getting you a new one. You can appreciate all the things he does for you, since you’ve almost moved in he’s gotten you the best of the best; everything from fancy towels to new hair products for your hair type.

“We’re off to the park” Noah screams at the top of his lungs towards your bedroom at Bakugou. He wouldn’t be louder if he tried. But then again, look who’s his dad. He usually doesn’t raise his voice around me but when he does, oh boy is that grown man loud. The walk to the near park was one of the best, Liam actually was talking to you about his classmates and how one of them has been giving him problems. You try to come up with a plan of how to deal with it. “If I tell dad, he’s going to make a big deal about it. I already get enough attention as it is.” he explains when you asked why you haven’t told Bakugou. “Well, I’m happy to hear you out. I’m not as hot headed as your dad” you laugh. He cracks a smile as you put an arm around him as you’re walking. After a few moments Noah bust between you both and yells, “are you guys done talking? I want a hug too” he says scrunching up his nose. You hug both of them. Noah pulls you close, puts his hand on the side of his mouth and whispers, “without him please”. This child is going to be the death of me. You pick him up and swing him into your arms. “You’ll have to let me go, we’re here guys” you say as you put him down. They both run off in different directions. You sit there on a bench taking in the warm sun. I can honestly do this everyday. This feels like.. You’re stopped mid thought when your phone starts to vibrate. Oh, the alarm I set for earlier. Well might as well check social media. I haven’t had much time since moving. The first thing you look at is twitter, you follow a few of your friends and some popular celebs.

“Did you hear about Dynamite and his new girlfriend?” you overhear two women say as they walk past you and take a seat on the next bench. What? “Oh my god. They look so good together. I would die to trade places with her”. You sit still for a moment trying to gather your emotions. Who is she? Why didn’t he tell me he was dating someone? I thought. I-I don’t.. You grab your phone quickly, opening it and going to twitter again. You search up, “Dynamite and” and there it is. You stare at your phone for a bit. There she is, a beautiful tall slender blonde woman arm in arm with Bakugou. You sigh in disbelief pushing your back into the bench. Why does this hurt so much? Fuck. Why do I even fucking care? He’s not even.. “Hey, are you okay?” says a deep voice. You turn your head, noticing the very handsome man next to you. “Yeah” you say, taking another breath. “You don’t sound okay” he says looking deep in your eyes. His hair is black as night and his eyes are deep purple, you can honestly get lost trying to figure out how many different shades there are in them. “Yeah, I just got some news.. I wasn’t expecting it” you say shifting your eyes down and moving some hair out of your face. “I bet. Boyfriend?” He says as he watches your face carefully for a reaction. You let out a slight giggle before letting out a breath and bite your lip, “no”. The man and you sit in silence for a minute. Fucking hell. Why do I feel like shit right now? This hot guy is next to me and all I could think about is you wrapped around another woman. Fuck this.. You lay your eyes on the man again. He’s about Bakugou’s age with a very muscular build, he has a couple white stands in his hair, he’s beautiful. “Which one is yours?” you scooch over towards him. “The little one over there” he points at the kid playing with Noah. He stretches his arm to rub the back of his head, you can clearly see him clearly stretching his muscles. You almost laugh out loud. Trying a little too hard buddy. You both make conversation for a while. It doesn’t take long before He’s asking you on a date, you accept of course. Maybe seeing someone else for a couple hours will help me get over this.. whatever this feeling is. After a few more minutes Noah comes over to you all sweaty trying to hug you. “Let's go home” you say with a smile. I feel like shit but I can’t even show it. This kid can read me like a fucking book. Okay, put on a smile y/n.

A few days have passed since you saw the pictures of Bakugou and his “girlfriend’. When you came home that day, you couldn’t even look at him. Why the fuck am I acting like he betrayed me or something. I’m just the nanny. Get a fucking grip y/n. Still, you tried to avoid him as much as possible. When he walked into the room, you would walk out, you ate dinner in your room unless Noah asked you to stay with him and you tried everything in your power not to look at him in his eyes. You were butt fucking hurt to say the least. After a few days you get the courage to talk to him. You take a deep breath before knocking on his office door. “Come in,” he says lazily. He’s sitting in his chair facing his computer typing away. He stops and cocks his head over his shoulder to look at you. You can do this. You need to do this. “Do you need anything?” he says, turning his head back at the computer with his hands still on the keyboard. “I-I I won’t be home Friday night. I don’t know what time I’ll be back” you say almost in a whisper. “Oh” you’ve caught his attention now. He turns off the monitor and swirls in his chair to face you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck “I checked your schedule and I saw you work till about 3. That gives me time to..” you say waving your hand around like a child explaining something. “Yeah, that’s fine” he says, eyeing you up and down. You look nervous, like you have something you’re hiding. “Cool” you say, taking a deep breath as you turn on your heel about to make a run for it. “A date?” he says in a low deep almost bitter tone. I was so close. I WAS SO FUCKING CLOSEEEE “Yeah.” you say turning back around to face his him. “With that guy in the park?” He says looking you up and down almost like he’s looking for a reaction. “Yeah, How did you..” you look at him confused. “When you guys came home Noah told me that you were upset about something while you were in the park and this guy started talking to you,” he said, crossing his arms. Why do I feel like I’m getting fucking scolded. “Yeah, I was pretty upset about something" you look away from him. How can I say: Hey, I was upset that you're dating a blonde supermodel because… well, I don’t know. Also, please sign my check sir without sounding like a total psycho. You quickly snap out of that thought as he stands up and slowly walks over to you. You’re still staring at the floor as he stands in front of you. “Is that why you haven’t said a word to me for days?” he says in a low tone, still arms crossed but this time biting his top lip looking for your eyes. You slowly look up at him. He’s so big and muscular next to you. He’s also wearing your favorite outfit. Those sweats and tank top combo will be the death of me. Your eyes finally meet his. In this moment you’re lost in his eyes, the intensity that’s usually there isn’t. You can’t quite put a finger on what he’s thinking or this unknown expression plastered on his face. It feels foreign but nevertheless it knocks the wind out of you. You feel your heart rate increase. “No” you say after some time staring into his eyes. I don’t believe her. “Okay” he says with a sigh. “Okay” you say back to him looking away. Tears start to form in your eyes as you walk away from the office. You take a moment to catch your breath in the hallway and turn back towards his office. Your body almost moves on it’s own. Maybe I should cancel. I don’t even- I don’t want anyone- Before you can knock on his door again you get a twitter alert. “Bakugou and girlfriend were spotted kissing in the park two days ago” it read. The pictures in the tweet were bad, you can barely even tell if they were kissing or not but It still made your chest ache. Bakugou opened the door to see you squinting at your phone trying to zoom into the picture. “Change your mind?” he said leaning on the door frame. You jump up and step back, you didn't notice how close you guys were. “No.” you say looking him dead in the eye. “Why would I? I am so excited” you say with a broken smile.

Bakugou and you don’t speak for the rest of the day. You are both noticeable in a bad mood.. “What’s wrong with daddy?” Noah says to Liam as Bakugou stomps around the house while you’re hiding in your room. “He’s jealous,” Liam says looking at Noah. “I have a plan, wanna help?” he says, smiling at Noah. Noah gives him the same devilish smile back.

Taglist: @lil-miminini @bqkuho3 @xoxo-teddybear @candybabey @butterflyhallucations @sizzlingdonutturtlemuffin @hay-leeeah @speedmetalqueen @yourfavoriteblackfemweeb @bakucumsackslut @shipchild @nanamithecute

I'm so sorry it took so long but If anyone else wants to me on the tag list for the next one lmk :)

#mha bakugou #bmha bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #dilf bakugou #daddy bakugou

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Decided to do a part 2 (due courtesy of @an-ambivalent and @definitetrashlord for motivating me to even continue this series HEHE💖)

Pt. 1

Tw: manipulation, dubcon, language

It isn’t the cum that slides down your legs continuously, nor the black and blue marks that so obviously covers the expanse of your neck at all times, no.

It’s the constant surveillance you’re under, it’s the lack of conversation you get from your comrades, it’s the way you mold and shift for however he wants you to be that solidifies his hold on you.

The attack from three weeks ago feels like yesterday, the way he held your head up by your hair after he was done ruining you and crooned in your ear that you were his now, and you’d be suicidal if you continued to lash out on his godsent decision plays like a broken record in your head.

You can’t look him in the eyes now, only meekly staring at his feet when he orders you to stand in front of him. Sometimes he’ll circle you and invade in your personal space, standing behind you and leaning in close behind your ear, simply inhaling you and saying nothing. Other times when no one’s around he’ll lounge back on the couch with a beer in his hand, spreading his knees wide while he lazily orders you to dance for him, slowly stripping away your self esteem and clothes simultaneously.

He doesn’t seem to outwardly mind the silence that seeps from you anymore, now that he has your body and attention focused solely on him.

Even Tomura has stopped talking to you just for fun. He’ll try and make a snipe at you, fruitlessly expecting your once-usual comebacks, but all you can do is blearily smile at him.

It makes everyone uneasy how quickly you’ve been reduced to nothing.

You couldn’t leave even if you tried to. Your medical skills were too valuable to be rejected, and Dabi’s scrutinizing tabs on you wouldn’t allow for even a foot stepped outside if not for Shigaraki’s missions.

Even your meals are meager at best, mainly consisting of copious amounts of alcohol and shitty ambiguous burnt food that pops up on the counters randomly.

You feel dirty, like a disease-infested rat. No amount is showering from the dingy stalls, no amount of cheap soap bars wittled down on your body erases the feeling of being used.

Dabi has never been in more love than he has now.

He hopes you like the food he makes, secretly placing it on the bar counter seconds before you sit down. Sure, the food might be a little burnt, but it’s still your favorite right?

It doesn’t matter how expensive the shower products are, he thinks they smell nice and that they’d smell even better on you. Shigaraki can fuck off, he’s not spending too much revenue on his girl, it’s the bare minimum he can do to show you how much he appreciates you playing by his rules...even if he can never say it out loud.

And his favorite part at the end of every day is putting his surely-misplaced words of affection into action, where he can scream with his body against yours how long he’s wanted you for, how thankful he is to any deity that exists that you’ve been placed in his care.

Dabi might be in love, but he’s not stupid though.

He sees the way your body becomes more and more deteriorated, notices the small change of you hesitation to answer him, the way you can never truly look at him, how you retreat to his room more and more(your room has just become a guest room now after he burned all your belongings, rendering you completely dependent on him to supply you with scratchy clothes and feminine products, no matter how embarrassing it is for you). It’s so frustrating to him- you’re not actually doing anything wrong, but you’re not doing it right either. How long does he have to keep threatening you for? Why can’t you just be happy with him? At least pretend like he’s not the villain for once.

He just feels so passionately for you, a word he never thought would be used in his vocabulary. It all bottles up, and sometimes he feels like he isn’t expressing his feelings of love, jealousy at you not giving him enough attention at times, concern over your quiet demeanor, and wanting of you enough.

You’ve never been more broken than you are now.

If it wasn’t bad enough that you bend at his every beck and call, he expects you to understand his body language and cravings without him even saying anything, which is more so often than not. He just stares at you for so, so long. You originally tried to get up and leave after he dragged you over to the couch and plopped you down, but immediately stilled after smoke began curling from his wrists.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

You look at him incredulously, but his lids are lowered at you as he smokes a blunt. And so you exhale in annoyance and run a hand through your hair, closing your eyes to avoid looking into his unnerving glacial eyes.

It’s too bad you don’t see the big red hearts in them that break when you turn away from him.

You’re just so pretty, how can you expect him not to stare?

He tries to get you to do weird things too when you guys are alone and he’s not plowing you into the mattress.

Once on a cool winter night a majority of the League was out hunting for recruits. Dabi, you, and Spinner had done your quotas already-or,rather, Dabi had yanked you by your wrist alongside him through the dark alleyways, growling at you to “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. If I see you looking at any one of these trash kindlings I’ll burn the whole alley up and force you to watch”.

And so while the rest of the party was out, Spinner had mumbled something about needing to take a piss with a pointed glare from Dabi and you were left alone again with your...boyfriend?

He sits down on the crumbling leather and gives you a once over, not saying anything.

You fidget in place, thinking he was going to make you give him another slutty show.

Moments pass, and he snaps, “Well?”

“W-well what?”

“Are you just gonna stand there like some braindead bitch? Sit down.” He leers at you.

You drop into the loveseat at the other end, looking down at your lap. You can’t see his expression, but he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you actually slow? Get the fuck over here, it’s cold as shit.”

And so you scooch over to him regrettably, knees touching with his as you squirm.

He leans forward and turns to face you, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He notices you trembling and squeezing your eyes shut, so he stops midway.

He sits back again and as soon as you feel his presence retreat you let out our breath.

It hurts his heart to hear it.

You solely turn to face him when he doesn’t say anything, and he points to one of the grimy blankets strewn over the side of the tv. He grunts, and you catch his drift.

You get up to retrieve it, and hear his gravelly voice. “Get the remote too.”

When both items are brought back, Dabi snatches the blanket from you and drapes it over himself contentedly.

What am I, an errand girl?

He tosses the remote at you to your surprise, and you look at him with raised eyebrows.

He props his cheek against a fist and stares briefly at the tv.

You take your chances and press the on button on the remote.

The ancient monitor comes to life, and it takes a few minutes of scrolling through the channels and glancing at Dabi’s face to decide the appropriate one to watch. You settle on some old slasher finally after seeing the scowl on his face lessen at the sight of a rusted blade chopping through some guy’s shoulders.

It’s weird to be sitting there with your bully-turned-beau, watching a horror flick as if your relationship with him was normal. You’re surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet, it’s what he always wants to do these days as if you’re planning on leaving and it’s his last dying wish to fuck you.

But he does nothing except for sit there, gazing at the screen with unblinking eyes, bouncing his knee.

He wants you near him.

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Why do you think he even sat you next to him with a blanket and a shitty movie?

Dabi expected you to snuggle up to him the moment you say back down. It’s rather insulting that you haven’t so far, if he’s being honest. Why would a fire user like him need a blanket to keep warm? That was for you.

And the horror movie? The only reason he allowed you to put it on is because he wanted you to jump, scream, flinch-hell, do something so he can put an arm around you and tease you for being scared!

But you just sit there. Stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. Hands in your lap, back straight up, it bothers him that you’re not relaxing around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You jump at the break in silence.

Indeed it is cold, the chilly winter draft seeping through the crumbling foundations of the old bar. But you’d resist, not wanting to know where he was going with this.

“Uh, no, I’m good thanks.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re literally shaking cold, doll. Come here.”

You turn to him beseechingly, very much not wanting to prolong this. “Dabi...”

You’re met with an icy glare.

And so you begrudgingly scoot closer to him, barely a few inches away. Gingerly picking up the corner of the blanket, you place it over your lap in a faux effort to warm yourself.

Dabi rolls his eyes when he sees this, and pulls you by your arms to fall against his chest.

You gasp lightly at how warm his torso is, and can’t help the shiver that passes over you.

Unable to stop yourself from chasing the warmth amidst the cold night, you huddle closer to him, pressing your palms against his chest to feel more of his heat.

He looks down at your head and gives the slightest twitch of his lips.

His heart swells, and he hopes you don’t hear how embarrassingly loud it’s pounding against your hands.

You slowly start melting in his hold, shifting your leg up adjoining his to seek out more heat, and it makes his cock twitch slightly. He likes you like this: pliant, easy, comfortable. He just wishes you’d talk more, and with less of that apprehension and fear in your eyes

Some minutes pass, the slasher fic having been ended and changing to a rom-com. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he saw one of those. It must have been back when he was Touya, back when his mom would bake his favorite cookies and him and Fuyumi-chan and Natsu would chase each other around-

You stir in his arms, mumbling a bit from dozing off. Dabi gazes at you, wondering when the day would be when you bake him his favorite meals, when he gets to chase you around and make you giggle instead of chasing you like prey and making you scream.

He rubs up and down you arms soothingly with hot palms as you murmur and begin to wake up. You sit up from his chest and rub your eyes, yawning widely all the while.

It’s only when you focus on him smirking down at you that you jump back as if you’ve been electrocuted.

His smile drops at that.

You scowl at his proximity, mentally face-palming at how you could’ve been lulled to sleep so easily by this dickhead. It wasn’t even that cold, how could you have warmed up so easily to him?

A blast of icy air seemingly coming from nowhere settled over your bones and you shivered violently, rubbing your arms that were warm a minute ago.

Okay, maybe it was a bit cold. But you’d be damned if you willingly became vulnerable for him any more than you had to.

“Is someone tired?” He teased, his white teeth gleaming with his sickening grin.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you mutter and avert your eyes, getting up to go upstairs.

“Good idea, I think I’ll come too.” You don’t need to turn around to hear the smug laughter in his voice, knowing full well that he was making fun of you.

You grumble and stalk upstairs with him right at your heels. At one point he lifts his gaze just to see your cute ass sashaying side-to-side with every step you took up.

He can’t help himself when he reaches a hand out and squeezes the flesh there, causing you to yelp and shoot up the stairs even faster.

Dabi shakes his head and snickers to himself, beelining after you to his quarters.

It’s a medium size-room, not meant for two people but that doesn’t stop him from cramming you in here every night.

You’re already glowering at his sheets, yanking them back and getting ready to dive in when a sudden thought strikes him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He leans against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Comes your muddled answer from beneath the comforter.

You did not, in fact, eat anything for almost a day and a half. You couldn’t do it, your stomach was constantly in knots from his presence.

“Don’t lie to me,” his nostrils flare and he glares at you.

“I said I ate already.”

“Yeah? When exactly? ‘Cause if I remember right, i haven’t seen you leave my sight for almost 36 hours now, and none of that time includes when you ate.”

You stay silent, fuming underneath the covers. Why the hell was he so concerned about you? It pisses you off that he’s putting up a fake act of caring about you, just so that he feels less guilty about raping you.

He sighs and shifts to open the door. “Stop being such a bratty little shit. You were doing so well earlier, so keep it that way unless you wanna piss me off.”

Dabi turns the knob and takes a step out of the room. “I’ll ask you one last time before I choose myself- what do you wanna eat?”

“Eat shit.”

It’s so faint and muffled, but he hears it. His eyes widen marginally, his jaw clenches and the brass knob under his inflamed palm starts to steam and bubble.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said eat shit!” You throw the covers off and glare at him full on. “Stop pretending like you actually like me, or that you care about me. You’re a crazy fucking rapist, you’re not my father for gods’ sake, so stop trying to be this fake good person!”

The only sound around the room is your soft panting and the squeaking of bubbling metal. Then, it stop.

He steps forward, and speaks softly. “You want me to be the villain so bad?”

Another step forward, and you instinctively retract your legs from the edge of the bed.

“Fine. We’ll play your little game. You’re not leaving this room until I say so, or eating until I give you permission, since that’s what you wanted anyways. Wanna act like a stone cold bitch? Be my guest.”

His posture immediately relaxes, and his smug smile returns as he crosses the room to flip onto the bed.

You look at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns over and scrolls through his phone.

There’s no way he’s serious. Is he actually planning on keeping you in this room? You’re already limited to the base as it is with him breathing down your back, no way in hell you’d tolerate even more confinement.

Just to check his bluff, you slowly slip off the bed and pad towards the door, one eye over your shoulder to check that he hadn’t turned around. But the second your hand outreaches for the disfigured blob of cooling metal on the door, a massive wave of blue flames lash out mere inches from your hand and between the knob.

You scream and clutch your hand, leaping backwards.

“What the fuck, Dabi?!”

He says nothing, but continues to smirk at his phone.

You take a deep breath and are about to try to open it again his his raspy voice calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My nursing skills aren’t as good as yours. And even if you do manage to sever your hand and try again, if you leave then I’ll personally make sure Shigaraki withdraws all your missions here on out.”

You pause at that, cursing under your breath. As much as you knew he’d never admit it to your face, your leader needed Dabi for long distance combat. He was the second most powerful member in the group, so his word was scripture after Shigaraki’s himself. He would do anything Dabi would say if it meant keeping him in the League. You, however, were expendable at the end of the day.

Sighing, you trudge your way back to the rickety bed, grumbling under your breath. He says nothing, simply continuing to scroll through his phone as if he didn’t blast hellfire at you seconds before.

Sleep did not come easily. Even after Dabi put his phone away, he didn’t press up against you like he usually did at night. The empty space behind you was growing colder and harder to ignore.

You tossed and turned for a couple minutes, contemplating what to do. Apparently he was serious when he said he wouldn’t let you leave the room until he said so. So when was he gonna give you the all-clear?

Your stomach rumbled loudly, and you winced clutching it. Damn it. If only you had taken up his offer instead of throwing a tantrum.

Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes more of deafening silence save for your weeping stomach, you cave in.

“Dabi.”

Silence.

“Dabi, you awake?” You prop yourself up on an elbow and peek over his shoulder. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving too fast for a slumber.

“Look, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t listen, okay? I should’ve eaten when you told me to.”

Nothing again.

“Hey.” You lightly shake his shoulder, but no response comes from him.

You sigh in frustration, tapping your fingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, an idea comes to you, but it makes your stomach recoil in disgust and quiet down its grumbling. Desperation is a bitch.

“Can I make it up to you...?”

And finally, he turns around to face you, one cheek propped against his palm, a lazy grin complimenting his salacious gaze.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so earlier doll?”

You grimace in disgust, mixed emotions at your plan working.

“So what exactly did you have in mind, hmm?” He pouts condescendingly down at you, and you grit your teeth before letting him in on it.

“Um, well..I thought maybe I could...um, y’know, like..I wanna, um...” Oh god. This was more embarrassing than you thought. How are you supposed to ask your captor if you can suck his dick? Usually he just took you fighting tooth and nail, you never fully submitted like this before.

And he knows it too, based on the way his eyes gleam in the silver moonlight and shadows of lust cross his face while looking at your wide eyes and bitten bottom lip, your fidgeting fingers showing nothing but needing pure guidance.

But this isn’t supposed to be easy, he doesn’t want you to feel comfortable, he wants you to feel bad and make it up to him.

To give you a little push, however, he gives toga slight hint as he sits up and leans back against the rickety bedrest, folding his arms behind his head.

“So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart? ‘Gonna stare at me like that all night or are you gonna tell me how you’re gonna make this up to me?”

You look up at him, conflicted for a moment before solidifying your resolve. You shyly reach out a hand and touch the outside of his thigh, slowly rubbing and moving it closer up to the tent in his pelvis.

Oh, this is precious.

“What?” He sneers. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were pushing me away earlier, but now you wanna suck my dick? Make up your mind, babe.”

You wince and continue, not backing down from his mean comment. You knew he wanted this, he expected this from you. That’s why even though he’s spitting venom from his lips, his hips are bucking up into your hand as you stroke over his member.

Your fingers move nimbly up and down, around and under his thighs and dick, with him softly cursing in the background as he grows harder and harder.

“Stop being a tease and get to sucking. It’s what you were made for, anyways,” Dabi’s low voice comes out from in between little moans.

Your hand shakes a little bit as you fumble with the drawstrings on his pj’s, and he snickers at your inexperience. When you finally free his length, it bounces out like its on fucking hydraulics, precum beading up at the tip, his shaft coated with an intimidation Jacob’s Ladder.

He watches you lick your lips and he groans under his breath. You’re nervous and scared, but he’s wondering whose heart is beating faster right now. The hand which you use to hesitantly start pumping him is so much softer than his own, and even though he’s gotten fairly accustomed to your body and the feel of it, the sensations multiply tenfold when you do it willingly for him.

Dabi has half a mind to shove your head down onto his shaft when he feels like you’re stalling with your hands, however good they feel. He wants to see you sloppy with saliva dribbling down your chin like a baby.

But he waits. As excruciatingly painful as it is, he wants to see what you’re like when you do things at your own pace, and at your own...comfort? If you can even call it that.

Finally, finally after caving in from his silent flower you get the idea to put it in your mouth.

Your face contorts in disgust as you slowly lower your head and latch your lips onto the slippery bulb, hollowing your cheeks out and sucking hard at the tip.

Dabi hisses and juts his hips up into your mouth, furiously chewing at his burnt lower lip as he holds back a pornographic moan. He knows you’d be startled and embarrassed by it, so he refrains...for now.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tell you what to do, though.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it like an ice-pop. No, don’t use your teeth idiot. And fondle my balls while you’re at it, too.”

Instructions pour into your ears, one after another as you fumble around trying to satiate his needs. You’re clumsy, which makes it even messier and hotter for him. Various fluids coat your hand and the lower half of your face as you work on him, doing exactly what he says. Sucking and kitten-licking the tip, even going so far as to dip your tongue into the crevice of his tiny hole and rapidly lick up the massive amounts of pre bubbling up after doing so, spiraling your tongue down the piercings and on his shaft until you circle around his balls. Your spit helps as lube to slick up his dick as you pump your hand while nursing on his plush balls.

Dabi, of course, has a hand woven through your hair and randomly jerks down on your head when you hit a good spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to hold back from his way his body and arms shake in self restraint, so you know it’s time to finish things up before his control snaps.

You start stroking him even faster, squeezing a little harder when you move up on his tip and massaging his balls. The soft schlick schlick sounds echo throughout the quiet room, the rustling of his sheets as his legs move to their own accord mute the thudding of both your hearts.

You can tell his orgasm is about to come from the way his cheeks puff up and his chest heaves. Pulling away is futile, as the second he sees recognition in your eyes he finally does what he’s been wanting to do, and slams your head all the way down his length.

He starts actually face-fucking you now, all 7 1/2 inches tightly cramming in your throat. You retch and cry out around his dick, trying to pull your head back but he’s not having it; he pounds the back of your canal and you swear you’ll wake up with a bruised esophagus in the morning.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes doll, fuck, just a little more, you’re doing so good, my little cumdump huh? You love me, yeah? Of course you do, of course you love your daddy, you’re never gonna leave me you’re gonna stay right here under me like the good little girl you are-“

Filth pours from his mouth as white ropes leave his cock, your already-filled throat flooding with his seed and leaking out of your strained mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he waits for a moment or two, calming his breath down by taking deep inhales in place of his rapid panting. His breath deepens after a minute or two, but he still has an iron grip on the back of your head sealed so tight that the cum is trapped on the inside of your stretched lips.

“Mmmfh!” You cry out and beat at his knee. He finally looks down at focuses on you, squinting and laughing at your predicament.

“Aww what’s wrong, don’t wanna gargle my kids? Would you rather have them someplace else?” He shakes your head back and forth on his softening cock and more seed spills out over your mouth and around his groin.

You painfully pull your head up, and Dabi revels in how you look.

Teary-eyed, your hair a mess, cum and spit coating your mouth like a fucking whore.

You’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you have at that moment.

“Come on, clean me up,” he gestures to the mess on his body, and you grimace.

“Do I have to? I just did what you wanted me to-“

“I thought you were trying to make it up to me?” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

You sigh and try to do it quickly, ingesting the vile contents and avoiding his cruel grin.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you finish him off and flop down in bed, catching your breath.

“So, was that good enough? Can I go outside now?”

“It’s the middle of the night, where the hell would you go right now?” He fluffs up his pillow and pulls his pants back up, getting ready to actually sleep this time.

“Well, I mean yeah, but...you know what I mean, in the morning you’ll let me go out, right?”

He rolls over to face you, and you can’t decipher what emotion crosses his face as his position blocks out the moonlight. From his body rolled over, the light reflecting off the side of his head would almost make it seem like he had white hair.

“Who said anything about letting you go out?”

You gape at him for a moment, then chuckle nervously. “Come on, don’t freak me out like that. You said that if I made it up to you-“

“I said make it up to me, as in apologize for your bitchy attitude. I didn’t say anything about you leaving. You’re gonna have to do more than a shitty blowjob if you wanna leave this room.”

“Dabi!”

“What? I’m just complying with what you wanted. You didn’t wanna go with me, right? So, I’m playing by your rules.” He says simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

Tears brim up in your eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You turn over and scoot away from him, ignoring his scoff. But you suppose you couldn’t be too mad, after all.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a villain anyways.

#bnha #dabi smut #tw:dubcon #mha Dabi #dabi oneshot #touya todoroki #touya #bnha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #Dabi #dabi x reader

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Shirt (part 2 of The Tease)

Warning - Smut / Breeding Kink

Request? Yes, decided to do it as a part 2 of the Tease. Incorporated two requests into one here...

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @semperfemina-xo

Two years had passed since your encounter with Tommy in the alleyway beside the Garrison, and true to his word, he'd married you within a month of proposing. Your son, Charles, had been born 8 months later.

Charlie was sleeping that afternoon, and you looked down at your dress - covered in the lunch Charlie had allegedly eaten, however the state of said dress suggested he'd decorated you with more of it than he'd consumed....

Heading up the winding staircase of the beautiful Arrow House home you shared with your husband, you entered your bedroom looking for a new dress to wear when you spotted one of Tommy's shirts hanging on the edge of the chair. You picked it up to take downstairs to be washed but stopped to smell the collar - his aftershave still lingered, the smell intoxicating you. He'd been away in London for three days and you missed him terribly. You slipped your stained dress off, and pulled his shirt on over your shoulders instead, wrapping it round you as tight as you could, fastening the buttons. It hung loosely on you, and fell to your thighs, but you didn't care. It smelled of him, and it was the closest you'd get to an embrace from him for now.

You held it as close to your frame as possible, before laying down on the large double bed. Your son normally napped for at least 2 hours, and Frances promised to take care of him this afternoon when he woke so you could rest, Charlie had slept poorly last night, crying for his father. You allowed your eyes to close as you inhaled the sweet smell of your husband, dreaming of when he'd be home.

You couldn't sleep though - you never slept properly when Tommy wasn't home. Sighing, you pulled yourself up and headed into the large ensuite bathroom to run a bath.

Your heart leapt when you heard the bedroom door open, and recognised his strong footsteps walking across the room. You lifted the hem of the shirt up slightly, and bit your lip. He was home early...

You were leaning over the tub when you suddenly felt strong hands underneath the shirt, running up your back.

"Wearing my clothes now, y/n..." His deep, husky voice whispered from behind you.

"Hmmm... They smell like you..." You murmured back, feeling his hands roam underneath the shirt and over your stomach.

"Wanna know a secret?" His lips on the back of your neck, sending shivers through you.

"Mhmm..."

"I miss feeling this belly all full and swollen with my seed inside you..." Tommy groaned in your ear, making your heart flutter in your chest.

"Well why don't you do something about it Mr Shelby?" , his eyes full of lust and need, spurred on by your words.

"Want me to fill you up again do you? Give you another baby to keep you busy while I'm gone eh?" Switching off the bath, you turned around with a groan.

You held his cheeks in your hands and stared into his blue eyes.

"Fuck me, Thomas. Now." He growled as he pulled you into the bedroom quickly, moving you to the drawers at the side of the room and bending you over.

"See now, I wanna see your pretty little face when you lose control over my cock, but I sense my little one needs to be treated as the dirty girl she acts like..." he watched your needy face in the large oak framed mirror and lifted the shirt up your back, your naked backside in front of his as he parted your cheeks and slid his hand between your legs, feeling how wet you were. His other hand squeezed an ass cheek, before slapping the flesh hard.

"Thomas please...." You begged, desperate for release.

"Pure filth aren't you little one? Missed my cock so much you're fucking begging for it..." You groaned at his words, pushing your ass back at him, rolling your hips as his fingers found your clit, gently massaging it.

"Gonna make a mess on my fingers little one? Gonna scream my name so loud, even our neighbours will know who you belong to eh?"

"You... Only you... It's always been you..." You heard him pull his trousers down and line himself up against your entrance, teasing your lower lips with the tip, stroking it up and down painfully slowly.

Edging himself inside you with a deep groan, he soon bottomed out against your ass, keeping his eyes on yours in the mirror, both of his hands now at your hips to keep you in place.

"You don't move - you let me take care of you now, understand?" He glared. You loved it when he took you like this - complete control, complete dominance. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every word. Words failed you, all you could do was nod.

He began to pound into you hard and fast - holding you strong with his hands to keep you from moving. You tried to arch against him but his hand slapped your ass hard, making you cry out.

"I said NOT to move sweetheart... Move again and I'll pull out!" He barked, but it didn't frighten you. Quite the opposite in fact. You knew the maids could probably hear everything and it only turned you on more.

"I'm sorry Tommy... I won't move I promise..."

"Stay still and I'll make you feel good little one.. so good..." His thrusts picked up in speed and force, edging you ever closer to the sweet release you craved. Your fingers gripped onto the edge of the dressing table as your cries got louder.

"Yes... Fuck that's it Tommy... Right there..."

"Still so tight for me.. so wet and needy all for me eh?" He gasped, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now as he felt your walls begin to contract around him.

"All for you... All for you... Oh god Tommy I'm gonna cum, please, please don't stop!" He squeezed your ass cheeks hard and felt your orgasm flow through you - watching your face in the mirror, how your eyes stayed locked with his until the pleasure became too much and your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth emitting the most exquisite sounds as you came hard over him.

His orgasm approached quickly, the sounds you made sending him spiralling.

"Gonna fill you up little one, gonna make your body swell full of my baby... You want it?" He raised an eyebrow at you in the mirror.

"Please... Please Tommy give it ALL to me..."

"Gonna cum... Holy shit little one you feel so fucking good... Keep cumming, please, keep cumming for me baby..." He thrust you into another blinding orgasm as you felt his cock pulse and release deep inside your womb, filling you completely.

Your movements slowed to a stop, before he pulled out gently and lifted you into his strong arms, one under your back and legs and carried you gently over to the bath you were running. Standing you, and easing his shirt off your back, he lifted you again and placed you in the still warm water, kissing your forehead, then your lips gently.

"Stay right there for as long as you need - I'll take Charlie for a walk when he wakes up. Frances told me you'd had a rough night with him?"

"He just misses his Daddy," you sighed, relaxing into the bubbles.

"Well I'm home now, and I've cleared my schedule for the next couple of days. Neglected you, haven't I?"

"You never neglect us Tommy, everything you do is for us whether you're here or not," you caressed his cheek lightly as he bent down to kiss you again.

He smiled at you, and headed out to the door hearing Charlie calling his name.

"Oh and don't think I didn't mean what I said - Charlie needs a brother or sister, don't you think?"

"Good job you think so. Could be making a baby as we speak Daddy," you smiled, watching his eyes widen.

"Fuck don't call me that, else I'll be calling Frances back and taking my wife back to bed!"

You chuckled as he he as headed out, smiling as you heard him blowing raspberries on his boys belly before taking him down the stairs.

Stroking your belly hopefully, life was truly perfect, and with any luck it was about to get even better too.

#tommy shelby x smut #cillian fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you

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bradtomlovesya · 3 years

Text

Ⓦⓗⓔⓝ ⓣⓗⓔ ⓢⓗⓞⓦ ⓔⓝⓓⓢ Pt. 2 (final)

Warnings: Smut +18!, fingering, bad words, orgasm denied, sub!reader, Dom!Brad, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Pic: @sash_maxwell on ig.

I woke up due to the light coming through the curtains and got up totally naked to close them and let Brad continue to sleep. I knew he was very tired from the concert and from our hectic session last night.

I bent down to pick up my pantyhose lying on the floor of the room and put them on. I also took the red shirt that had started all of this in the first place and put it on just by buttoning a few buttons.

I turned my head to see Brad peacefully asleep. Today I had the day off so I tried not to make too much noise so as not to wake him up and so that he could get enough rest while I made some coffee. In the hotel room there was only a bed with a nightstand on each side, a three-seater sofa next to the balcony with a coffee table in front of it, a dining-type table and two chairs around it. On the little table next to the sofa there was a coffee machine and complimentary coffee so I decided to take advantage of it and prepare some fresh coffee for when he woke up.

I was preparing the coffee when minutes later his arms around my waist made me jump slightly with fright.

"Fuck! Bradley." I tried to catch my breath. "You scared me." I put a hand to my chest.

"I'm sorry honey." He said hoarsely and a giggle left his lips. "I didn't want to scare you." He flicked my hair to the side and placed a kiss on my neck that sent a huge electric current through my body.

I turned on my heel and wrapped my arms around his neck. "It's okay." I left a short kiss on his lips. "I woke you up?"

"No." He responded with his raspy voice and shook his head causing some of his unruly curls to fall across his forehead. "I patted next to me but you weren't there so I opened my eyes and guess what I saw?" He bit his lip with a smile.

"What did you see?" I asked with the same smile.

He leaned close to my ear and his lips brushed my earlobe. "I saw you wearing my shirt." He kissed right at that soft spot behind my lobe and took me by the thighs and walked with me to leave me sitting on the table. "It looks so fucking good on you. I could swear the thoughts that haunt my head of the things I want to do to you right now are not healthy at all." He spread my legs, making me gasp. "Can I do the dirty things I'm thinking of doing to you?" He directed his eyes to mine and I could see that they were only his pupils. They were full of desire.

"Brad ..." I gasp. "You just woke up, how can you think about that?" I laughed slightly.

"It's your fault." He spoke seriously. "It's entirely your fault for wearing my shirt, Y/n." He crossed his arms. His expression was one of pure seriousness. "So now all I think about is fucking that cute pussy right against this table while you still have my shirt on so you think about your actions." He clicked his tongue. "However, you know that your consent is important so I need you to say yes."

I beat my eyelids over my white skin not believing what I was hearing. I felt the moisture slide back between my folds and, when I regained consciousness, I moved my lips "Yes, it is a yes, Love." I nodded quickly. My cunt throbbed to feel him inside me again.

"Good because I wasn't going to take no for an answer" He unfolded his arms and took a step towards me. "You shouldn't have worn my shirt if you weren't up for me to fuck you hard, right?" I was silent but he took my face between his fingers for me to speak. "Words, darling. That little mouth isn't just for sucking my cock. Use it to talk."

"Yes, I wanted that when you saw me with your shirt on, you wanted to fuck me" I replied in something a little louder than a murmur.

"Already knew." He released my face. "I just wanted you to accept it" he ran his index finger between my breasts until he finished on my pantyhose. "Look at that pretty face with a fucking perverted mind." He laughed hoarsely and pressed my clit a little with his finger over the fabric making me moan. "Awww, Love." He pouted. "Look how desperate you are for me to touch you."

"Bradley, please stop teasing me and playing with me." I begged. "Please just come into me." I tried to put my hands on the elastic of his boxer to lower it but he stopped me.

"Don't even think for a fucking second that this is about you and what you want." He rudely denied. "This is about me and how much I'm going to enjoy fucking you so fucking hard that all the people in this hotel will know your moans and the name of the person causing them." He put his hand under my underwear and patted my cunt. "So damn wet!" He grunted. He slipped two of his fingers into me without warning and jerked them against my walls that tightened at the feel of him. "Always so tight, my pretty little doll." He curled his fingers reaching up to my G-spot making me scream his name. "It doesn't even look like I had fuck that pretty pussy just last night."

"Brad!" I groaned loudly and threw my head back. "I'm sorry, I really ... Ah!" Another moan as he entered another finger and moved violently causing a series of obscene and delicious sounds that filled the room.

"Alright, I think that pretty vagina is ready to receive me" He pulled his fingers out and moved his finger in circles over my clit causing more moisture to flow down my pussy.

"Yes ... I'm ready" I answered between gasps with my eyes closed and tight. His finger kept moving and sending currents at my most sensitive nerve point. The brown haired boy made a little more pressure and, just as I was about to cum, he withdrew his finger from me making the feeling go away.

"You won't feel it until I decide you should." He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. "Always so sweet." He smiled grimly. "Get off the table." He ordered and so I did. "It's time to fuck that cute cunt that only belongs to me" He put his hands on my hips and turned me around. He pushed my back down so my chest was pressed against the table and lifted his shirt off my body only until my ass was exposed. "Do you know what girls get when they misbehave?" He asked me.

"Spanking?" I asked with my cheek pressed against the hard, cold surface of the table's wood. My breathing was erratic, he had already denied me a precious orgasm so I just had to be good to him for him to give me a new one.

"How smart you are, my girl" He came over and placed a kiss on my head. "That's right, spanking." He pressed his hand against the cheek of my butt with force causing a great sound of. Smack!

"You know you should not misbehave" Another spanking with more force than the previous one but on the other side. My ass right now was totally red and the feeling was burning.

And so the spankings came one after the other until they added ten and He decided that had been enough.

"Now what should you say?" He ran his palm up my butt admiring his previous work.

"Thank you Sir." I answered between gasps and wedging my nails around the edges of the table to withstand the heat. Brad got down on his knees and left several kisses on my ass cheeks to make them stop hurting a bit and it worked. "Thank you" I repeated.

"You're welcome, darling" He lowered my underwear, ran the stitch of his crotch over my folds to smear it with a bit of my moisture and seconds later he completely sank into me with one blow making me scream. "Fuck! How good you feel" his hands went to my waist to support himself. "Can I continue?" He asked me leaving a kiss on my back over the fabric of his red shirt.

"Yes, you can ..." I inhaled deeply. "You can continue." Just as I responded, I felt his hips go back and then forward to push himself fully into me, making me whimper. “Fucking hell, Brad!” I yell/moan.

His hips moved in and out of me with needed speed. I didn't think it was possible but he was moving with more force and speed every time. The table legs were grinding against the floor, but we were so caught up in our own pleasure that we didn't care. One of his hands went down until it reached my clitoris and thus began to stimulate me with enough speed and pressure to make me see stars and feel that sensation again in the lower part of my stomach. This, combined with the moans, grunts and obscenities that left Brad's mouth were driving me straight into ecstasy and he noticed it.

His dick tightened me in the only way he knew how and they stimulated all my essential points to transform all possible pain into pleasure. We fit together so well that I could feel the veins of his cock on my walls. I squeezed my vagina earning a growl from him because I knew he loved that. "Cum on my dick, darling. Come on princess" He made a little more pressure on my clit and his thrusts did not lower the force but became sloopy giving me to understand that he was about to finish too.

"Holy shit! Bradley!" I moaned his name and my legs felt like jelly. My walls closed against his member, leading him to cum inside me as well, painting my walls as his. "Ahh!" I moaned again feeling his come and his hands went to my waist to keep me from collapsing on the ground.

"Fu-ck!" He collapsed on my back and I could feel the sweat on his forehead dampening the fabric of the shirt. "I said I would fuck you with my shirt on and I did." He laid to leave a kiss on my back and his hand went up and down my leg.

"That's right," I nodded trying to normalize my breathing. "I love this shirt" I laughed slightly and felt the vibrations of his laughter on my back. "Babe, I really love you but please get off me, that's overstimulation." I bit my lip.

"Yes, of course" He withdrew his member from inside me with a giggle. I felt myself whimper at the emptiness. "I'm sorry, I just love being there" He held me in his arms and walked with me to the bathroom. "Did I hurt you?" He left me sitting on the edge of the tub.

“No, you’re really careful even when you’re being rude to me” I took his hand and kissed his lips “Come here, let’s take a relaxing bath.” I start filling the tube.

“It would be a pleasure” He leaned to help me take off his shirt and smiled while doing it. “What the fuck do this shirt has that make us so fucking horny?” He laughed.

“I don’t know, babe” I laughed loudly. “I don’t know but let’s use it more often”

#brad simpson smut #bradleysimpson #brad simpson #brad simpson imagine #bradleywillsimpson #the vamps imagines #the vamps #connor ball #bradley simpson #bradley simpson smut #the vamps smut #fanfics

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jxngh · 3 years

Note

Hi can you write a smut + fluff with Namjoon?

Where Namjoon is an idol and the reader is a simple, ordinary girl from a different culture and race (I am from India so, want to read something with an international reader) both of them love each other dearly, but the reader is holding herself back because Namjoon is an idol and she doesn't belong from the same culture as Namjoon. So, the reader distances herself from Namjoon but, he tries to persuade her. After this, it's upto you how you end it. I know it sounds cliche, but still 🥺 I'll love you if you could write this ❤

hello!! thank you for requesting <33 here's your request, hope y'all enjoy ✨

you loved your boyfriend so much. he loved you back. that was why you left your country and started to live with him. you loved the minimalistic side of the city which made you visit here too often, but he was the reason you stayed.

the culture was so different than yours. his idol life was too different to an ordinary girl. at the beginning you didn't see these as a problem. but after some meetings with his friends and some of the family members you thought that you're a little too much different. and you had an idea that he could be better with a Korean girl.

you weren't holding yourself back on purpose. everytime you get closer to him you felt like 'am i suitable for him? ' and he noticed something's bothering you, he was the most caring boyfriend, how would he miss? plus you've been finding excuses to not meet with him. giving yourself time to think.

you ditched him 3 times with an 'i'm feeling kinda sick' excuse, he was busy so it's been 2 whole weeks you didn't see each other. after the third time he showed up at your door, holding your favorite dessert in a box. he knew how anorexic you get when you're sick. you felt the guiltiness all over your chest. he looked so worried and you...ugh.

"hey baby, i wanted to come check if you're better. i missed my pretty girlfriend." he said before leaving a small kiss to your cheek. you missed him so much. then he came inside, left the box and got you in his arms. your face was on his chest, inhaling his smell.

"joon, thank you." you said but your voice was clearly showing that you're sad.

"oh, are you in pain or something? where's your medicine?" he said looking at your sad expression. he was so caring and you had no rights to make him worried.

"no...baby ugh i...i'm not sick.i just needed some time to myself... to think." you managed to say. he looked curious and cupped your cheeks. "think? think what? tell me baby."

"joon...i was thinking that...uhmm... we're so different... and i can't help but thinking if you'd be more...happy with a girl who can understand you better..." you said not being able to look directly in his eyes till you're finished, playing the neck of his tee.

his dragon eyes went bigger and he looked at you like he didn't understand. "uhmm, what?" he said and continued "what made you think that i could be happier with someone else?" he said with a heartbreaking tone. you felt the sadness spreading on your chest.

"i, i just...don't know joon." you whispered sadly and looked up to him. he stopped holding your face and stand right in front of you. his face was showing that you hurt him. "no no joonie don't get me wrong.i still love you like the first day and even more." you said holding his big hand. his eyes shined after your words and pulled you to a long kiss. making your mind go numb and your stomach fill with butterflies.

"you're the one __. i don't want anybody else." he pulled your waist and lead you to your room, giving you unsteady kisses. to your lips, your neck, your jawline, anywhere he can reach. "nobody can make me happier." then he placed you on your bed, removed his tee in a second, showed you his toned tan body and took your breath away. you gulped and looked up with pink cheeks. your heart fluttered when your mind repeated his words.

he removed your top and started leaving kisses and licks to your upper body while he's taking your bra out. you were feeling the wetness building on your core. "nobody looks this pretty to my eyes." and pulled you to a deep kiss, making you feel full of love. at the same time he removed your pants and underwear, after that he quickly got rid of his ones too. then he squeezed your ass, pulled you closer to him.

he rubbed himself to your core and said "nobody makes me this hard." before sucking the sweet spot under your ear, hands traveling your body, making you moan under him. "gonna show you babe." he said with a low voice and pushed himself into your walls after a few pumps. you mewled at how big he is inside you, sending your head back with pleasure. he moved faster, made you hold on your bedsheets then he slowed down and hit deeper in you, making you scream by repeating it. then he took your lips to a kiss, sucked your lips and with a groan he sucked your tongue. "nobody tastes this good...mmmh baby o-ohh" he moaned to your skin. then he pumped himself to you in a brutal pace "a-ahh joon hmph y-you're so b-big." you whimpered, holding the bedsheets tighter than ever and sucked lovemarks to his neck.

when he held your legs and pushed them to you, you couldn't wait any longer and came all around him, screaming cry. he slowed his pace then slammed into you without stopping. "nobody feels this good." you were feeling too much, too hot, too wet and you felt your second orgasm coming. "j-joon t-too m-much ahhh" you moaned, eyes getting teary. when you're having your second orgasm he spurted his hot cum deep inside you, still giving you lazy thrusts before he kissed your swollen lips. then he held your chin and made you look at him between his kisses.

"turn around baby, gonna make you cum on my dick countless times tonight. you'll have no doubts."

.·´ requests are open don't be shy!

#namjoon smut #namjoon one shot #namjoon drabble #bts smut #bts one shot #bts drabble #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #thirstlist #bts writing #anonymous #replies

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nothinghcppens · 3 years

Text

small talk- pietro maximoff

part 1

part 2 here

masterlist

pair: pietro maximoff x female!reader

summary: after being apart of the team of super soldiers that hydra experimented on, y/n was one of the successful experiments and had been released to the world. the winter soldier and the siren had become the most prolific assassin duo in the world. but what happens when they get taken in by the avengers? what happens when she meets a particularly fast superhero with an attitude?

warnings: swearing, slight mentions of trauma

bang. the bullet left your gun and went through the targets skull and his body dropped to the floor with a thud. behind you, your partner barnes did the same, the body hitting the ground.

“go.” he demanded, pushing you forward. you ripped off your mask and turned to face him.

“don’t touch me.” you spat. you bent down and grabbed your knife, twirling it round your hand and placing it in your belt.

“hurry up. we have to report back to hydra.” barnes said, checking the bullets in his gun.

“you don’t tell me what to do.” you barked, sending him a sharp glare.

“shut your fucking mouth.” he seethed.

you went to retaliate but stopped yourself when he raised his finger to his mask, looking around.

“get down!” he called, throwing himself behind the wall. you dropped and rolled behind a metal box, covering your head. two smoke bombs went off next to you, clouding your vision. you peered around the box, seeing barnes stepping out of his hiding place, gun raised. you put your mask back on so that your identity wouldn’t be compromised and stood up. you took your knives out your belt and raised them.

trails of blue flashed in front of your eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows, confused and spin round, slashing your knives through the smoke. you heard barnes grunt and heard his body hit the ground. that was your cue to leave, you were in danger. you broke out in a sprint, preparing yourself to jump off the roof. but those blue trails cut in front of you, knocking you on the floor. you felt a sharp pain in your neck and your eyes began to feel heavy. you tried to kick and push yourself up but it was no use. your vision went blurry and everything kept going in and out of focus. before your eyes completely shut you felt a pair of arms reach under you and pick you up.

“i’ve got her! someone got barnes?” the voice said, it was a man with a thick foreign accent. the world went dark.

your eyes shot open and you tried to sit up but you couldn’t, your arms and legs were bound by some kind of force. your eyes darted around and landed on tow people standing guard. there was a man with light brown hair, his arms were large and crossed over his chest and a younger man with bleach blonde hair and a scruffy beard.

“good morning, sleeping beauty.” there was that accent again, he was the one who took you.

“pietro, enough.” the other man said. “i’m steve rogers.”

“i didn’t ask.” you mumbled. the man you learned to be name pietro let out a noise of surprise.

“you are y/n y/l/n, more commonly known as the siren. you are one of the more dangerous assassins on the planet.” steve said.

“how do you know my name? no one knows my name.” you questioned, trying to free yourself from their restraints.

“we know a lot about you, you and your partner james barnes.” pietro explained. steve stiffened at barnes’ name, does he know him?

“friday, tell stark that she’s awake. i’ll meet him in the lab.” steve announced.

“of course, captain rogers.” a female voice replied from thin air. you looked around confused, where did that come from? he left the room and went to find whoever he’s looking for, leaving you alone with pietro.

“how did you find us? where am i?” you asked.

“you were pretty easy to track down considering the trail of bodies you two leave all over the globe.” he declared. he pulled a chair over and spun it round, straddling it.

“well how come it took you guys this long to find us?” you spat, not liking how much he’s enjoying this, “who even are you?”

“we’re the avengers.” a man announced from the door. he had dark brown hair and a beard, he was wearing a zip up fleece and jeans. stood next to him was the steve that you had met previously, “i’m tony.”

“stark?” you asked, having heard his name throughout the hydra base you were trapped in.

“the one and only.” he said with a bow.

“are you all like that?” you questioned, really not in the mood for their nonsense.

“like what?” steve asked.

“annoying.” you spat.

“she’s feisty. i like her.” pietro stated with a smile.

“yeah. i’m dangerous too.” you commented.

“not when you’re trapped like this you aren’t.” he replied. he stood up from his chair and peered over at you. you struggled against your restaints and tried to get yourself free, but it was still no use. he chuckled condescendingly and you rolled your eyes.

“right, we’ll let you out. but you have to promise not to go all super soldier on us. we stopped you once before, we can do it again.” tony said, stepping forward and pushing pietro away from you. “we’ll explain why you are here and what we want from you.”

you agreed to stay calm as long as they explain what’s going on. they removed the restraints and you practically leapt out of the bed, landing unsteadily on your feet.

“careful there.” pietro muttered, reaching his hand out for you.

“don’t pretend that you care.” you grumbled. a look of hurt flashed in his eyes but was quickly replaced by that sarcastic smirk that never seemed to leave his face. “so, why am i here?”

“come with me and i’ll explain it.” tony said. you looked down at your clothes and saw that you were still in the same clothes from your last mission except your belt was missing along with your jacket and bulletproof vest.

“where’s my belt?”

“confiscated, for obvious reasons.” steve explained. you groaned and pushed your way past the men and out the room, tony following behind you. you stopped quickly, realising that you didn’t know where you were going. he overtook you and you walked behind him.

“welcome to the avengers tower. we brought you here because we know that hydra have experimented on you and barnes and you have been their weapons for the past few years. barnes and steve knew each other during their war days so steve wanted to free him and you, well you just got lucky.” he looked back and saw your angry expression.

“i’m only kidding, you’ll be a good asset to us. we’ve just got to get hydra out your brain. they’ve wormed their way inside you and at any moment you could go all assassin and try to murder us all.”

“they don’t control me.” you stated.

“say what you want, but they do. you won’t realise it but they are using you.” he stopped you and his tone went more serious. “pietro and his sister wanda, they were experimented on by hydra. they got sent out to attack us. we helped them realise hydra’s hold on them.”

“maybe i don’t want your help.” you said, thrusting your head towards him in an attempt to intimidate him. he didn’t flinch.

“i think you do. would you rather go back to being tortured?” he queried.

“i-“ you didn’t know how to respond.

“that’s what i thought, so i suggest you take our help before we change our mind.” he said, turning away and heading up the stairs. you jogged up behind him and followed him as he led you along a hall lined with doors. “welcome to your room, get yourself cleaned up and when you’re ready just ask friday to alert someone and they’ll come and bring you down.”

“who the hell is friday?” you asked.

“friday?” he announced.

“yes mr stark?” that voice from earlier replied.

“this is y/n y/l/n, she’s new here. i’m just introducing you to her. make sure she doesn’t leave her room unless accompanied.” tony said, opening the door.

“no problem, it’s lovely to meet you miss y/l/n.” friday added.

“uh yeah, you too.” you spoke quietly, unsure of who or what you’re talking to.

you stepped into the room and turned round to see tony flash you a small smile before closing the door on you. you let out a sigh and looked around the room. there was a large king sized bed against the right wall, a rug across the centre of the floor. there was a wardrobe and a set of drawers which you pulled open and saw filled with clothes.

“uh friday?” you asked.

“yes miss y/l/n?” the robot lady replied.

“who’s clothes are these?”

“they belong to miss romanoff and miss maximoff, they are for you to borrow until you can purchase your own.”

why would they give you their clothes? they don’t even know you. do they not know who they’re dealing with?

you let out a sigh and turned to the door on the left side of the room and opened it. inside was a bathroom equipped with a large glass shower and a small smile crept onto your face. you stripped yourself of your clothes and ran the water at the highest temperature. you stepped into the shower and felt the hot water run over your body, goosebumps forming on your body at the change of temperature. picking up the coconut scented shampoo, you opened the bottle and took a long inhale of the scent before placing some in your hand and running it through your hair. then doing the same with the conditioner. you then washed your body with the body wash they provided you with, it was amazing. constantly being on the run and in hiding, you never got the opportunity often to take a minute to take care of yourself.

after the shower you brushed your hair and got changed into some sweatpants and a hoodie. you lay down on the bed and closed your eyes for a moment, you didn’t mean to fall asleep but as soon as your head hit those soft pillows you were out like a light.

you were awoken by a soft knock at your door and a voice calling your name, “y/n?” you recognised it to be pietro and you shot up. you glanced around and noticed it was darker outside, it had been a few hours.

“sorry, come in.” you called, your voice a little hoarse from sleep. he opened the door and leaned against the doorframe.

“uh sorry to bother you but tony wanted me to come and make sure you hadn’t escaped or something.” he explained.

“still here.” you stated.

“i see that.” he replied.

“is there something else you need?” you asked. all of a sudden he wasn’t standing at the door, those flashes of blue light whizzed past your eyes and he was next to you on the bed. “speedy, how fun.” you complained.

he chuckled and flopped back on your bed. “make yourself at home i guess.” you said.

“so, hydra huh?”

“careful you might trigger the super solider within me.” you teased. “seriously though, i don’t know what you guys did but i don’t have the urge to complete my missions. i don’t feel like i have to murder anyone in my sight.”

“well that’s always a bonus.” he joked, moving himself up the bed and resting his arms behind his head on the bed frame.

“what was it like for you?” you asked, sitting cross-legged.

“isolated in a case, random injections, training. standard stuff. you?”

“shock therapy. makes me forget who i am.” you explained.

“wow. sounds like fun.” you huffed out a laugh, “what makes you change? how do they control you?”

“they have these books, one for each of us and there’s a sequence of words that like triggers something in each soldier. they just say them and it’s like a switch flips and then i’m ‘ready to command’.”

“sorry to interrupt but i have a message from mr stark.” friday announced, tony’s voice came blasting through, “speedy you had one job. see if i come up and see that the siren has brutally murdered you, i will not be sorry.”

you laughed at tony’s message and looked at pietro who’s expression was the same as yours.

“friday, i have a message for stark. put me through.” he said, “fortunately for you i am still alive, you better watch it before i send her to brutally murder you. we’ll be down soon.”

“he seems nice.” you stated.

“he’s a pain in the ass. wait till you meet clint, he’s even worse.” he joked.

“god, can he be any worse than you?” you questioned, copying his sarcastic smile.

“rude.” he said, getting off the bed, “let’s take you down.”

he took out out of the room and back down the stairs, he stopped at a large set of double doors and turned to look at you giving you a nod. he pushed open the doors and opened his arms wide, “i’m back! and i brought a guest.”

“took you long enough.” tony complained.

“what can i say? we get on like a house on fire, don’t we love?” pietro teased, placing his arm around your shoulder.

“just because i’m not being controlled by hydra, doesn’t mean i won’t kill you.” you growled and shrugged his arm off you.

“you’re right tony, she is feisty.” a man said from the sofa. “hi i’m clint.”

“where’s barnes?” you asked, ignoring him.

“he’s resting, i can take you to him if you want.” a woman with long brown hair suggested. “i’m wanda.” she added as she approached you.

“you’re pietro’s brother. tony told me about you.”

“glad to see my reputation proceeds me.” she chuckled. “come on.”

the walk began quiet until she broke the silence between you two, “i’m glad to see you and pietro are becoming friends.”

“far from friends.” you mumbled.

“he seems to think you are. it’s okay to admit it.” she said.

“nope. not friends.” you stated.

she laughed, “whatever you say. anyway, what’s barnes like? are you two close?”

“honestly, no. we only go on missions together and we don’t exactly get along. i don’t know much about him, i only know his last name. i guess there’s a lot of rivalry, we both want to impress them.” you explained.

“why do you want to see him then?” wanda asked.

“i want to meet him and get to know him when we’re both... free. maybe then we’ll get along.”

wanda pulled open the door and revealed your partner, the winter soldier lying on a bed in the same restraints you had been in this morning. steve sat in a chair next to him, eyes closed and his head on his shoulder.

“why is he still restrained?” you asked wanda.

“well, hydra seemed to have had more of an effect on him than you. he has been under their control for a lot longer than you have, so it’s taking him a while to come to terms with everything.” she explained.

you nodded your head in approval. wanda approached steve and nudged him awake, he blinked rapidly and looked around before meeting her gaze. “go get some rest, we’ll watch him.”

he nodded slowly and yawned before slipping out the room, leaving you two alone with the sleeping super soldier.

“i’ve never seen him this peaceful.” you mumbled, sitting down on the chair that steve left empty.

“where’s steve?” he grumbled, stirring awake.

“he’s away to get some rest, you’ve got us for now.” wanda said.

“siren?” he asked, now noticing your presence.

“yeah let’s drop that, call me y/n.” you insisted.

“how are you out? why am i still tied up?” he questioned.

a massive grin spread across your face, “you, my friend, are even more mentally unstable than i am. because hydra had you for like, what? 500 years? and they only had me for 8.”

“i am not 500 years old.” he spat.

“you certainly look it.” you muttered.

“what was that?” he asked.

“i’m kidding!” you chuckled, “it’s good to see you barnes.”

“bucky.” he said. a smile grew on your face.

“bucky.” you repeated.

———

a month or so passed and you had began to train with the rest of the team, you took it easy because they didn’t want to risk you somehow freaking out and trying to kill them all. during the month you had spent many hours in the lab with tony, running tests on you and making sure you were 100% safe to be around. he is still wary of you, so you aren’t allowed on out missions just yet, but, even if you were you wouldn’t go with them, just in case.

occasionally however, they let you join in for a few hours of training and you really enjoyed it. as much as you hated hydra and everything they put you through, you loved training and fighting, it was your nature. training was your release, it was your opportunity to take out your anger against the world. every punch was a way of pushing out every negative emotion pent up within you.

grunts left your mouth as you punched the punching back hanging in front of you and sweat dripped from your forehead. you then stopped and picked up a staff and moved to the dummy across the room. you took your stance and began to hit the dummy, changing techniques every so often. you felt a rush of wind behind you and stopped before turning around and sticking out the staff. pietro stopped on the left side of the stick, his sarcastic smile present on his face.

“remind me not to get on your bad side.” he stated, pushing the staff away from his face.

you rolled your eyes and turned round, “carry on with that attitude and next time i won’t hesitate to hit you.”

“well i’ve caught you once before, what makes you think i can’t do it again.”

“you caught me off guard. it doesn’t count.” you said, going back to your training.

“don’t be a sore loser, i did it for your own good.” he replied as he sped around and stood behind the dummy.

you looked up at your teammate, seeing his stupid smirk. deciding to make training even more enjoyable, instead of hitting the dummy in your next swing, you swung at pietro. he moved his head out the way and the stick missed him.

“what was that for?” he asked, a shocked smile spread on his face.

“you got on my bad side.” you replied, glaring up at him.

he grabbed the staff and thrusted it towards you, aiming for your stomach. you dropped and rolled out the way, and pushed yourself up, landing on your feet.

“just because i can’t tavel at the speed of sound, doesn’t mean i’m not fast.” you teased.

“him, we’ll see about that.” pietro said. all of a sudden he was gone, those trails of blue light following behind him. he stopped behind you, staff across your throat. his head rested at your right shoulder and you could hear his light breathing in your ear.

“okay fine. you win.” you stated, but before he let you go you grabbed hold of the stick and bent forward, flipping him over your head. he landed on the mat hard and you dropped on top of him, straddling his chest. you placed the staff across his throat and held it there with a sly smirk on your face.

“what? didn’t see that coming?” you questioned.

“impressive.” he said as you stood up and grabbed his arm, pulling him up with you.

you unwrapped the protective bandages from your hands and threw on a zip up hoodie over the sports bra you were wearing.

“want to order pizza?” pietro asked.

“no.” you replied.

“oh come on! it’ll be fun.” he said, leaning against the dummy.

“nope.”

“please.” he begged.

you glared up at him while tying your shoes. “fine.”

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver #aaron taylor johnson #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine

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mandoinevarro · 3 years

Text

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Words: 9.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: so ok descriptions of blood (it’s only one sentence and I don’t think it’s too bad but just in case), remembering trauma/triggering memories, angst. now for the fun part: SMUT, one (1) thigh spank, a sprinkle of dirty talk, a dash of praise kink, spitting, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, maybe cockwarming but for like two minutes

a/n: happy 2021!!! only one chapter left after this one so enjoy. for the hornies who only want fun and sexy times: scroll to the bottom and work your way up, smut is like 3/4 in.

……………

In the blue morning light, Nevarro is almost beautiful.

The deserted lava fields spread in flat terrain as far as the eye can see, bumps and dips where magma cooled creating waves like a black ocean. Among the tide, obsidian turtle shells shimmer like dark mirrors, where Din Djarin studies his face. It startled him when he crawled from the tent to take the pram inside; when he glanced at the ground and the ground glanced back. His face cloudy and warped by irregular volcanic rock, he barely recognized it. It’s not rare for his features to blur in his memory sometimes, especially when he’s out working for days at a time unable to catch a glimpse of himself. Vanity is not one of his many shortcomings—hiding your face for decades is a mighty vaccine against it.

But today something’s different. The reflection peering up at him belongs to a stranger. Relaxed eyebrows, a hooked nose (has the curved always been so pronounced?), lips that faintly curl up. Content brown eyes. His mirrored counterpart is a sentient being below him, plump with blood and oxygen. Alive.

He looks happy.

However, morning weighs heavily on Din, he can see it in the bags below his eyes. It stings like a hangover, like the only hangover he ever had, back when he was an eighteen-year-old idiot and used the credits of his first bounty to get a flask of spotchka from some seedy bar. He remembers sitting in his crammed quarters at the old Covert, chugging the bottle on his own, methodically forcing himself to swallow against the burn. Waiting. Waiting for the alchemy to kick in, for the magic toxins that flushed drunks’ faces, lubricant that oiled their scowls into easy smiles. Waiting to feel what everyone else felt, just for a moment.

Lifting his head, Din peers ahead. Shadows of the city’s buildings creep above the horizon like a bad omen. The opposite of a promised land. Hunchbacked buildings stain the blue-gray sky, abruptly interrupt the intricate lava patterns, Nevarro the planet versus Nevarro the city. Din’s stomach crumples. One, maybe two hours by foot. One, maybe two hours, and last night will fade into a distant memory, a collection of ghost sensations.

But not yet. Right now, last night is still real. You are still real.

Crawling back into the tent, he licks his lips for the millionth time today. He can still taste you: that thick, salty-bitter taste, so much better than he could’ve imagined. He hopes it stays on his lips for a long time; or, at least, that he can replace it soon.

Inside, you’re curled up with his cape, a blooming bruise above your shoulder peeking out, the baby’s pram hovering next to you. He sits down, careful not to awake either of you, and runs a finger down your shoulder, feels the skin prickle. He buries his nose on the back of your hair and inhales: rain and earth as usual, but his soap too, a part of him that clings to you. Lips on the crook of your neck, Din smells himself on you, wonders if you’ll want to wash his scent away, or if you’ll want it to stay on you. You stir, your soft exhales gain a rasp. Din smiles. You do snore, after all.

He’ll have to wake you soon. He knows. He knows. You need to talk about last night. You need to have the frank conversation that you’ve both been postponing for way too long, back when you floated in dead space, no deadlines, no rush at all to make decisions. But things have changed, and he knows what he wants now, and he knows it can’t wait. Yet every time his fingers brush your shoulder to nudge you awake, he pulls them back. He’s never seen you so peaceful, not moving except for your expanding and contracting chest, the light fluttering of your lashes. All the fight in your body gone, those tall bridges around you down and inviting. So different from when he met you.

If there’s one thing Din’s good at, it’s sniffing out trouble. He had to be, if he wanted to make it in the Fighting Corps. In the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. He can sweep a room with a mental black light, spot the people who flare up white and bright, the ones he needs to stay away from—or approach, depending on the situation. And that day at the cantina, the first time he laid eyes on you? You glowed with it. Talking big game in Karga’s booth, laughing with your pretty smile and shuffling cards, you beamed with trouble, bright as radiation and just as dangerous. What needed to happen was clear as day. The Mandalorian needed to turn on his heels immediately, strut out of that bounty hunter hive without a second look, and never, ever, ask about you.

He’d been there before.

Mandalorians, despite common belief, are not made of beskar. Not on the inside, at least. They’re all warm blooded organics, burdened with flesh and internal organs and skeletons; pain and pleasure receptors. Older Mandalorians cautioned younger ones when they came of age and finished their training, when they were ready to become providers. Tall stern warriors, his superiors, warned that there would be temptation, situations that would make him doubt the Way. “Even the briefest taste,” Din’s former Alor said with that cavernous voice he had, “can be the point of no return.” And he was right.

Outside the Covert, there was so much…stimuli. Voices and colors and movement, a twenty-four-hour beehive, the galaxy buzzed and vibrated to no end. It was equally wonderous and grotesque, like a circus. The strenuous noises that rattled his ribcage, the strong smells, the different food, his senses had never felt more exhausted. The faces…stars, the faces. How muscles stretched in a big smile, the glint of teeth, the deep creases between eyebrows that signaled anger. Always moving, always changing, Din hadn’t seen so many uncovered heads since he was a child. His first few weeks outside he’d stare at people for hours until they scurried away or tried to fight him. Tried.

Then, when the initial shock wore out, he noticed other details. The way children’s eyes filled with admiration when they’d look at their parents, how that dimpled girl in Alderaan would blush and stutter whenever he bought something from her stall. And Din would wonder, despite all warnings, what it’d feel like to be one of them. To share so much of himself with the outside world. With time, curiosity morphed into obsession, obsession into desperation, and soon enough he found himself with Rand and the others, running rampant in an already chaotic galaxy.

One war, two decades, and a thousand regrets later, the curiosity died down. The helmet helped him tune out the outside world, made it easier to retreat into his memories. The galaxy seemed duller by the day, emptier. Lonelier, though he didn’t dwell on it.

That is, until he met you.

Until his resolve circled the drain and he asked Karga who you were and where to find you, walked into your store without an idea of what he’d say. Behind the counter, eyes shining and that silky voice asking what you could do for him, you reset the galaxy for him. Every time he visited you felt like his first day outside all over again.

But last night—that was stronger, set in stone. It felt like commitment. Something was born last night, something burgeoned in his chest and took root. Din can feel the fullness in his body, like he grew an extra limb, similar to the swell that tangled in his insides when he went back for the kid. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it reminds him of the day he swore the Creed. The fresh sense of purpose, the carved-out path in front of him, knowing what needs to be done:

When the siege is over, he’ll take you with him.

“Are you watching me sleep?” you mumble, cotton mouthed. “Kinda creepy.”

Din chuckles, then remembers. Stars, his heart stops beating for a second. Dread and natural reflexes throw his palm whip fast over your closed eyes. Maker. What the hell was he thinking, sitting next to you without the helmet. Maker, one second too late and you could’ve opened your eyes and—

“Didn’t see anything. Promise,” you say with a smile and pull his cape over your face. “Cover up.”

He pats around for the helmet (where the hell did he drop it last night?), finds it abandoned by your feet. When he fits it around his head, the familiar padding hugging his skull, he swears it feels heavier than it did yesterday.

“You decent?”

“Yeah.”

You lower the pseudo blanket, sleepy eyes and easy smile. As if you purposefully want to make it harder for him to strike up a conversation. But do I really need to— Yes. Yes, he does. He has to know where you stand and ask the big question: If you’d be willing to leave with him once the siege is lifted. Stars, his hands are sweating. But he can’t imagine you’d say no. Not after last night.

“Listen…”

As if on cue, whimpers and sniffles float from the closed pram. Great timing, kid. The baby’s ears droop like wilting leaves when Din places him on the ground, and the little bundle waddles with his eyes cast down until he reaches your ankle.

“What is it, kiddo?” you ask softly, your voice gentler than Din’s ever heard, sitting up as you hug his cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“I think…” Din begins, watching the baby sniffle and hug your bandaged calf. “I think he’s apologizing.”

A pair of eight-ball eyes blink at you, shiny with unshed tears, and Din feels an ache deep in his chest. This sweet little kid, all he’s been put through…

“Oh, don’t worry,” you coo, as one of your hands wriggles out the cloak and cradles the baby’s cheek. Your thumb brushes away a fat tear. “I’m tougher than your dad.” You wink at Din: Just kidding. But it’s true. Living in this planet for so long, all on your own. “Tough” is a survival skill for you, not a choice.

Also…dad. He should probably correct you. Din is not the kid’s real father, even though he’s caught himself thinking about the baby as his son once or twice, when he’s not too aware of his inner monologue. But he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. Actually, he belongs to a race of wizards that I’ve been quested to deliver him to. Can’t adopt him if I’ll eventually give him up. Not when the kid’s shedding quiet tears into your leg and you’re doing your best to soothe him. Nevarro’s not child friendly, and Din can’t imagine you’ve got much practice with baby stuff, but he can tell you’re doing your best. And that’s enough to spread warmth through his chest.

What a troop you must make: Mandalorian bounty hunter, black market dealer, magic green baby. You could set up a three-person circus and retire. Yet the image tugs at a memory tucked away in his mind, something familiar but blurred.

His rumination’s cut short when Din notices the kid’s pudgy hands extending strategically on either side of your right leg, his eyelids beginning to flicker. Shit, shit, shit.

“She forgives you,” he tells the kid hastily as he scoops him and lays him on the open pram. He doesn’t need to be the little womprat’s real father to tell he was about to whip out his favorite party trick: healing witch powers. So far it doesn’t look like it permanently harms him, but it does weaken him, and Din can’t take chances. Plus, he skipped the part about the baby having supernatural powers when he told you his story, and there’s not a hell of a lot of ways one can explain fresh wounds disappearing.

“So,” you say after the baby’s settled in his pod. “What are we going to do,” you start, and Din’s throat knots with dread and excitement, “about the jammer.”

Oh. Stars, straight to business

“You said you have one.”

“I said I might have one,” you answer, grabbing for your discarded skirts. You fumble with them under the cloak, one hand clasped tight around it. It’s funny—after everything you’ve shared, you won’t undress in front of him during the day. “I mean, jammers aren’t picky like motors, they’re more one-size-fits-all.”

“But we still have to rewire it,” Din completes, wiping dry drool from the kid’s cheek with his thumb.

“Right.” Holding the cloak with your chin while you clasp your tunic, you seem to slowly draw your way out of a maze. That restless abacus in your head adding and subtracting. Your brows relax, and Din knows you’ve figured it out. “But I’ve got my equipment in my workshop, and we’d save time not having to remove it from a ship. And, no offense, but the Crest’s jammer was an antique. Way more complicated than newer models.” You finish dressing and hand him the cloak. “Only problem is the potential trooper stakeout outside the store.”

“I’ll take care of troopers.” Din takes the cloak and hesitates. It’s day nine, that time bomb still ticks in his head. Could it be that easy? Could you really do all this in one day? “What if we don’t finish on time?”

“Then,” you say, “we’ll figure something out.”

We, Din thinks, and smiles. Somehow, that’s all the reassurance he needs.

≈

Nevarro couldn’t look more deserted if tumbleweed rolled in the streets. The city’s a populated ghost town, no man’s land that’s filled with men. Well, men is a strong word. How did Viszla put it that time? We live hidden like sand rats. Yes, rats seems more fitting. Packs of them, scurrying around the former Covert, stealing Mandalorian armor to be bartered for scraps. Karga didn’t have to spell it out when he told him about people finding the Covert. Mando is familiar with the ways of the Outer Rim: Anything unclaimed is up for the taking, and beskar’s too tempting to resist. Knowing doesn’t make his blood boil any less, though. If Din focuses, he can almost hear their squeaking echoing from the sewers, the scavengers of this gray rock serving themselves to the abandoned armor of his people.

Movement to the left. The Mandalorian draws his blaster and bars you with his forearm, to see…a tunic. A short tunic. Tiny red lights. A Jawa. He exhales and sheathes the blaster. Stars. With the vembrance turned off, he has to rely on bare eyesight to scan for danger.

The Jawa drags a sleigh behind him. On it lies a dead or unconscious trooper (it makes no difference to these creatures), its gloved fingers drawing traffic lines on the mud and ash of unpaved streets. Red stars below the cowl focus on you for half a second, the bounty hunter’s hand approaches his blaster, and…

…and the Jawa waves at you, says “hello” in its squeaky language. You wave back, smiling, and the lump of shadow continues on its way. A neighborly gesture that in this context is plain bizarre.

“Old friend of yours?” Mando asks, walking again.

“Associate,” you correct, running a finger along the kid’s left ear until it twitches and he giggles. “Jawas scavenge parts straight from the wreckage, eliminate the middle man. And they don’t report to the New Republic.”

You mean steal from the wreckage, Din almost says, but bites it back. He supposes he can’t judge you for trading with Jawas. Prospects on the Outer Rim are bleaker than ever, and everyone’s got to eat. Especially during a siege.

Maker, sometimes he can’t believe he convinced himself to leave you here. Marooned in the type of place Core World citizens only talk about with shaking heads and disapproving voices. The type of place that makes people feel better about their lives, because hey, it could be worse, at least I don’t live in Nevarro. Granted, Din didn’t know then there’d be a siege. After the fight, after he bid goodbye to Cara and Karga, he hovered on the atmosphere for longer than was safe, gazing down at your store’s roof from the Razor Crest’s cockpit. His head a seesaw, weighing his options and unable to make a decision. You were still so close. He could fly back down to the surface, knock on your door, and take you away with him like he did with the kid.

Would you say yes? Reject him?

But most importantly: what about his quest? What kind of life would you lead travelling with him, a fugitive of the Empire and the New Republic? Life for Din has been defined by survival. Every day he’s had to get up and fight; fight to an inch of his life, fight with concussions, frostbite, shattered ribs. Knife wounds, blaster wounds. Personal wounds. He didn’t want that for you. You’re young, clever, resourceful. After that day, maybe you’d decide Nevarro was too dangerous. Maybe you’d pay your passage on a cruiser and start over in the Core Worlds, make your luck own there. Find a good man, if that’s what you wanted.

So he started the thrusters—the same ones he bought from you so long ago—and jumped into hyperspace with a semi clear conscience. This was best for everyone. You probably wouldn’t have accepted his offer, anyway. For five months he lived with his decision. And then he learnt about the siege.

In the sky, a string of river pearls forms a pattern like a necklace. Imperial cruisers, tie fighters, every ship that Guideon commands, solemnly presiding over Nevarro, itching to shoot down runaways. They’re too far up in the atmosphere to make out anyone in the surface, but Mando grabs your arm and coaxes you behind him all the same, his grip on the pram tighter. The memory of that imp’s blaster on your forehead is still too fresh. The dried blood on your legs.

Din glances back at you briefly. You catch his eye and smile—not grin, not smirk—but smile, a pretty, kind smile that would put to shame any of the imaginary Naboo girls you were so worked up about two nights ago. He should know, he’s been to Naboo, and none of the women there had your kaleidoscopic face, those hints of life that send his pulse on a sprint. The Mandalorian wonders what else you could be hiding under that sharp tongue, behind those clever eyes.

“Mando,” you call and point at a blackened mass to your right. “Nursery’s this way.”

All buildings in Nevarro emerge from volcanic rock, pushing away from clumps of hardened magma. They’re half-manmade, half-volcano hybrids—it’s a useful layout that gives their structure grip against constant earthquakes. It also, however, makes the buildings look like tumors growing on the navel of an ill planet. Your store’s the only one that’s never looked malignant, more like a sprouting flower than a parasite.

And now, the cantina too. Burned to a crisp, blacker than night, the former Church of Nevarro seems to have been swallowed by its unwilling host: the volcanic rock it was built upon. It’d be near impossible to know there’s a cantina inside, if not for the wide window peering inside. And it’s far from impossible for you or Mando, who know by heart where all the doors stand. He pushes one open for you, and together you walk inside.

“Thumb on the bottom, middle and ring fingers on the top, index to the side,” instructs Cara from behind the cantina’s crisp black counter. “The other side.”

Greef Karga sits on a stool opposite her, fumbling with a deck of cards. “Got it. Then what?”

“Then…” The veteran moves aside a flask of ardees and places a matching deck on the bar. “Pressure with your index, release the thumb.” She acts out her instructions and creates an arched ribbon spread on the surface. The Mandalorian can’t remember the last time he walked into the cantina and didn’t see the hypnotic patterns on cards, didn’t hear the wing-flapping noise of their shuffle. Although if he thinks about it, it makes sense that sabacc is the local sport around here. Dumb luck is the only god in the Outer Rim, where inhabitants gaze perpetually at their uncertain future and never look back. Tomorrow they’ll get a better hand, yesterday’s lost credits are forgotten. Everyone here seems to shed their past like snake skin.

“Nice spread, Dune,” you call. Greef and Cara follow your voice, realize they have visitors. “You should job hunt at Canto Bight.”

“Oh yeah?” replies the ex-shock trooper with an impish grin, both elbows on the counter and a rag over her shoulder, all bartender swagger. “What do you know about Canto Bight, hot stuff? Heard you’ve never been off this rock.” She spies a sly glance at Mando, enough to confirm that she’s annoying him on purpose, openly flirting with you. He squares his stance, rolls the helmet to pin her down with the visor, but (he really should know this by now) it does little to intimidate her.

“No trash talk before nightfall, ladies,” quips Karga, walking towards the pram. “And certainly not in front of babies. Hello, little one!” Said little one coos and lifts his skinny arms to be lifted by the Guild Leader, who sits back down delighted at having the baby’s favor, the little rascal on his lap. “He likes me!” Greef Karga smiles wide, flashing those white glinting teeth that’ve always reminded Din of a wolf’s. He’s not happy to leave the kid here, but he can’t take him if there’s a stakeout in your store. Beggars can’t be choosers and so on. But Cara’s here, and Din knows he can trust her with the baby. Though not with you, evidently.

“Tell you what, Mando,” Cara continues, apparently not done peacocking around you. “We arm wrestle, just like last time. Winner gets a flask of spotchka and the opportunity to take the lady to Canto Bight after you lift the siege.”

“Help us lift the siege and I’ll consider winning that flask.”

Dune lets out an long whistle, giving you a complicit look. “Big words.”

Your eyes rake along the Mandalorian’s armor slowly, boots to helmet, a dark tint in your eyes. Din flushes, the oppressive heat of his clothes suddenly thicker.

You shrug and answer, “Big man.” Your fingertips dance idly around the nape of your neck, which makes Mando think about last night, about his tongue on your neck and the purple bruises he sucked, the salty taste of flesh, the heady one between your legs. The memory steers blood into…into awkward places. Which, knowing you, was your intention. Maker, he needs to talk to you about teasing him in public.

“Help you how?” asks Greef, lifting the baby into the counter, whose six little claws hold on to two of his gloved fingers.

“Look after the kid, we won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Sure thing!” booms Karga, at the same time as Cara says, “Fuck no.”

You fold your arms at the veteran. “You scared of an infant, Dune? It’s only one of him, and…” you squint at the cantina’s black shell, like something’s out of place in its burned remains, “…two of you. Where’s—” you start, before glancing at Mando and swallowing the second half.

“Duma?” supplies Karga, tapping the corners of the deck on the counter. “Don’t know, probably boiling beskar to make broth. Rumor has it she’s running out of supplies, fast. Did you ever take her up on that deal?”

Your eyes shoot vibroblades at him, your mouth a flat line.

“What deal?” Mando asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, still glaring warnings at Karga, who sighs, shakes his head, and tickles the baby’s tummy. The kid giggles and kicks half the deck off the counter. “Nothing important. We should get going.”

Outside, you guide the Mandalorian through a maze of back alleys, the ugly underbelly of a planet that’s already the galaxy’s own underbelly. Mando glues a palm to his blaster’s grip, lifting it only as muscle memory to turn on the vembrance and activate the setting to scan footprints, frustrated when he remembers his own piece of equipment would immediately snitch on him. Yet you glade past dark corners that beg for their own knife-brandishing mugger with the grace of someone frolicking in D’Qar’s moorlands, postcard-calm.

Once in your store’s backdoor, the Mandalorian ventures a glance at the front street. Empty. Like the rest of the city, it’s like curfew was declared, not an imp in sight. Certainly not a stakeout in process. Behind him, you push the door open, the busted security panel no more than a prop to discourage robbers.

“What?” you ask when he doesn’t walk inside.

“There’s nobody here,” he answers, studying the connecting alleys like a web of arteries, waiting for a trooper squadron to materialize and ambush you.

“It’s quiet too quiet?” you tease with a lopsided grin. “Lay off the thrillers, Mando. Come on.”

You step inside, he hesitates. “Could be a trap.”

Hands on the doorframe, leaning forward, your face almost touches the helmet. “Then you’ll shoot them and we’ll be back to square one. Not much of a choice here, Mando.” Those pretty eyes, your shining, wet lips. It’s a siren’s call he knows he shouldn’t answer.

The Mandalorian follows you inside.

It takes him a moment to recognize his surroundings.

Your store hibernates in the dark, stale air floating around its vault. Your store, which used to buzz with drills and neon lights and life around the clock, looms like a beast’s hollow belly, crypt-still. Lights off and furniture wrapped in sheets, it looks abandoned, the way all those family houses in deserted villages were hastily vacated during the war. He wonders how long you’ve been out of business because of the siege. Because of him.

You walk across the reception in tomb silence. In the reception signs hang next to the front desk—store policies that gave Mando more than one headache—dark and colorless, like they turned in their badges and no longer preside over this place. Only “NO IMPS” twitches, one or two agonizing flashes of neon green, before it shuts down like its colleagues. Six rules in total, although in Din’s opinion there’s a seventh that foregoes the need of a sign: “NO QUESTIONS”.

That’s a rule that everyone in Nevarro—bounty hunter or not—subscribes to. It’s the rule you followed when the Mandalorian walked into your store, still crafting some half-assed excuse about thrusters when he came face to face (helmet to face?) with you. You never asked about New Republic guidelines or what he wanted them for. Not even for his name. No questions when he came back two weeks later. No questions as weeks passed and then months, as tension thickened between you until his internal barometer cracked.

No questions when his thinning resolve broke one night. That night. He pushed you onto your workbench, you undid each other’s belts, pawed at each other’s sides. No questions when he slid into your wet heat, when he had to stop for a second to avoid a heart attack. No questions when he finished inside you, blood roaring in his ears, your sighs clouding his visor, your hand gently pushing him back.

And then, his question: “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” you answered, pulling your trousers back around your hips.

It dropped on his head like freezing water. Upstairs. Upstairs to your apartment, to rest. Alone. Meaning your encounter was a one-night stand, a shortcut to let off some steam. Stars, you were basically swinging the front door wide open for him, putting away a couple of wrenches and switching off the lights to signal the night was over. The Mandalorian didn’t need questions to know he’d overstayed his visit.

But…what if he’d spent the night anyway? Maybe the next morning he would’ve been upfront with you, confess he’d wanted you for so long and that he wanted it to evolve past one furtive encounter, that he wanted it to be real. No, he probably wouldn’t have. As a bounty hunter—as Mandalorian—there are things he simply can’t have. Things that are better off unspoken, better off—

“Tucked away,” you say behind him, making the Mandalorian jump.

“What?”

“The planner.” You walk behind the front desk. “I was saying I don’t remember leaving it here. I thought it was tucked away in some box.”

Oh.

It is strange. A light sheen of dust covers the counter, yet the planner is glossy clean, a painted depiction of the Manarai Mountains on its cover. A souvenir from Coruscant. He wonders who brought you that. It tugs at something sweet but sad in his chest, the fact that you have to rely on others’ cheap souvenirs to explore the galaxy. That’ll change as soon as this mess with the siege is settled.

You flip through the planner, empty for the most part but for a few scribbles on the first pages. It’s dated 5 ABY, four years ago. The Mandalorian knows from experience that your appointment rule works mostly to turn away unsavory clients. Or to get on his nerves.

“Look at that,” you murmur as if reading his mind, your finger pointing at nothing on a page. “You don’t have an appointment, Mando.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he answers, though he knows he’ll make time for it anyway. It used to drive him up the wall whenever you refused to see him using that stupid excuse. But, as with everything with you, it was more complicated than that. It took longer than he’s willing to admit to understand that it was a game. That you liked him riled up, after the push and pull, the hot and cold, the challenge. You had a taste for difficulty. Although it didn’t take as long to figure out that he liked it too. “Just let me in.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, glancing at the dull signs on the wall. “Rules are rules.”

The Mandalorian has played this game with you enough to know what you want. He thinks of all those memories in this building. You, pinned between his armor and the doorframe; him, sitting on that battered couch upstairs with your hands on his knees. Even those calm nights, when you’d only sit and talk and make him laugh, and sometimes he’d get a laugh from you too, if he didn’t try too hard. All the sweating and the panting and the talking that these walls have witnessed. Maybe there’s time for one last memory before you both leave this planet for good. Not maybe—there’s definitely time. If this were an ambush, you’d be dodging blaster shots by now.

“So bend the rules,” he says slowly, gripping his edge of the counter and dropping his voice to the low register that gives you goosebumps. “For me.”

Your eyes twinkle like copper at the fact that he’s playing along. “And what do I get in return?”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you want.” Perhaps he’s known for a while, in the back of his head where he could ignore it, but last night the idea rushed to his front lobe. He’ll give you anything you want.

“I want…” you begin, mischief shining in your eyes, before a shadow clouds them. Slowly, your face goes soft, a special kind of longing in your pupils. You swallow, your voice becomes throaty, and the words sound truer than anything Din’s ever heard: “I want you. I just want you.”

He almost trips on his feet when he rounds the counter, his head already swimming. The hunter crowds you with his body, backs you up against the counter until you’re caged and looking up at him, hooded eyes and parted lips. Hot stuff. Cara’s shallow pet name. When he heard it he thought it was inappropriate. But now. As your mouth nestles on his clothed neck and breathes hot, damp air through the fabric—a mild sensation for most people, he guesses, but almost a mating call for him—he realizes it’s not untrue. The name fits you like a glove, hot stuff. It’s just…incomplete. If he’s learnt anything these nine days is that there’s so much more to you, enough sailor knots of emotion and personality inside you to loop around the galaxy if unraveled.

“Touch me,” you breathe, rubbing up against him, searching friction. “Please, please, touch me. There’s nobody here, we—we have time.”

Gloved palms on your waist, down to your hips, lower to your ass, Din tries to fondle you as best he can. He pins you between the counter and his hips, your leg curls around his back and holds him closer. His erection starts to bulge against your belly, your breaths start quickening, your hearts start pumping faster. The tell-tale signs that indicate you’re both ready to go hit all their usual beats. But something’s missing. There’s a step you’re skipping, something…something he’s not doing right.

Tentatively, you press a small kiss on his covered neck, and he can only feel its frustrating whisper, a promise of more.

A lightbulb flicks on.

Mando holds your hips and spins you around, the desk’s edge on your waist. “Bend over,” he grouses next to your ear, his voice sand-coarse. “Don’t turn around.”

Gloves off first. One palm cradles the back of your neck, feels you shiver. His left hand runs down your back and around to your tummy, savoring all those warm, secret places on you, the way your body opens up to him on instinct. The power trip when he cups your heat through your skirts and you moan into the counter. You nestle your hips on his lap, and he stiffens on command, a tug between his legs that he knows is far too insistent for foreplay. Stars, it’s like he’s conditioned to get hard in this store.

“Don’t—” he chokes out “—not so fast. Or I—I won’t—”

“What?” you pant. Din hears the grin laced in your voice and knows it’s bad news for him. He drops to his knees and both hands walk up your bandaged calves, squeeze the tops of your thighs. “You…you don’t…” He throws your skirts over your back. You inhale sharply at the cold air—or at his hands pulling the soft flesh of your backside. When he removes the helmet, your pitch sounds broken up, more desperate. “You d-don’t want…”

It’s a small victory when he parts his lips against your clothed core and it’s you, for once, who chokes on words. Small victory, but he’ll take it, especially after the way his cock twitches in his pants when he smells you. He kisses you again, just a peck over your clit, and your legs shake. Fucking…stars. If this is how you feel when you tease him…well, he gets it. You mewl and push back on his face, but he hardly thinks you want it that easy.

“Stop moving,” he tells you sternly, with a voice he’d use on quarries.

A shiver runs down your spine. “But—” You break into a whine when his open palm slaps the side of your thigh. It’s probably the surprise rather than the sting that makes you inhale sharply, and a combination of both that dampens the cotton between your legs.

“Stop moving,” he repeats, mouth pressed against your core so you can feel the vibration; that, he learnt from you. “Or you don’t get my mouth.”

Above him, you let out a displeased little grunt, too throaty to mean much. But you open your legs wider and brace yourself on the front desk, grant him full access to you. His index hooks on your underwear, moves it aside, and he buries his lips deep into the softest part of you. Din barely hears you gasp. He circles both arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, until his tongue is buried between your folds and you just have to take it. Fuck, it’s just…decadent. The taste, the smell, how soaked you are already, your little purrs and whimpers when he sucks on your lips. They’re not things he ever thought he’d get to feel. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“Mmm, stars, Mando,” you sob, sneakily rutting your hips like you just can’t help it. He allows it, but only because he’s so rock fucking hard he’s practically doing the same thing. His cock trapped down one pant leg, he squeezes his thighs to try and soothe the ache. “Move—move up a b-bit.”

“No,” he grunts, and licks a slow line from the spot right below your clit to the back of your slit. It wasn’t so long ago that it was your mouth on him, you teasing him mercilessly inside this very store, him moaning and grunting and losing his mind. That’s how he wants you: sloppy, desperate, begging.

“Maker, don’t t-tease,” you moan, but it only encourages him. His tongue slides deep inside you where you’re hotter than sin, enjoying how your walls swell and tighten around it. You’re so fucking wet, he could push into you right now and relieve the pressure building between his legs. But not yet.

“Beg me,” Din groans, mouthing at the inside of your thighs and sucking tiny bruises there. You moan above him, deep in your throat, and he wonders which one of you is more turned on right now. “Put—fuck—put that smart mouth to use. Beg me.”

For a moment all he can hear is your labored breathing, the wheels turning in your pretty head, laying out a plan to make him give in faster. Then, soft and sweet, you hum, “Mando.”

One word. Probably the word Din hears the most, so generic and impersonal that everyone from friends to strangers to enemies call him that. That word coming from your lips makes his heart sprint, his cock pulse and scream at him to hurry up. Stars, but if it was his name—his real name—on your lips, soft and purring like you pronounced his nickname, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back a second longer.

“You always make me feel so good,” you continue, arching your back a little to test the waters. “You’re so—so good with your mouth, stars. Want you to kiss me again—kiss me everywhere. Taste me like yesterday—” Your breath catches when he sucks on your inner lips again, closer to where you want him. Maker, if you keep talking like that… “Used to th-think about it all the time, how—mmm—how your—your tongue would feel. Never, ngh, never thought you’d use it th-there, though.” Din laps at your cunt, drinks from it. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he got this hard. An airy laugh before you continue. “You can be so d-dirty sometimes. I’d let you do—do anything to me.”

Really, Din doesn’t know what pushes him to do it. He doesn’t know what makes him pull back and spread you open with his fingers, stare at your glistening, deliciously swollen folds, and spit at their very top. You moan raggedly above him, a complete mess of sobs and whimpers, as Din simply stares. He watches the trail of spit run down your slit, the lower it goes the more precum he feels sticking to his trousers. Half-drunk on your words and your slick, Din thinks: What did you do to me? Maker, you have him wrapped around your finger.

Saliva trails down until it teardrops on your clit, clings to it, and he doesn’t need another sign. His lips latch on to your bundle of nerves and suck. You sob and whine and cry, rocking your hips hard against his mouth, and he continues sucking through his teeth. Your knees give out, but he holds them before you can hit the ground, holds you in place as he feels you give him everything, your pussy clenching around nothing. Slick trails down his chin, all the way to his neck, and—shit. He’s going to burst in his pants just from feeling you cum in his mouth.

It takes every last ounce of self-control he has left to detach his lips from your cunt and stumble to his feet. You’re still shaking, still panting, but he can’t hold it back a minute longer. Fuck, not even a second longer, he needs to have you right now.

It’s a struggle to get a hold of his fly, fingers trembling and teeth grinding. When he finally pulls the zipper down, the sound snaps your head up.

“Are you—Mando, are you going to—”

“Yes,” he grunts, digging into his waistband for his cock, lining it up against your cunt. Stars, he’s so pent up, it hurts to touch it. “Is it—is it o-okay, can—can, I—”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you mewl, pushing your hips so tightly against his groin the head of his cock catches against your entrance. Fuck. “Please, please, please, put it inside, let me feel your big, thick, co—”

One hard shove, deep enough that he feels himself poke your cervix, and he’s cumming—hard. His spine doubles over and he grunts and moans into your hair, giving you short, stunted thrusts as he fills you to the brim. You were already so swollen before, now you feel unbearably tight, squeezing his cock so harshly his eyes roll back on his skull. And his balls keep pulling up and giving you more of his load, his teeth grinding so hard they might crack. One last thrust, nice and deep so his cum stays inside you, and his palm presses down on your eyes. Din uses that hand as leverage to turn you around and tilt your head like you showed him, just enough so he can reach your lips. And he kisses you.

Your bodies spasm and throb against each other, you clench around him involuntarily and he flinches, too sensitive to handle the aftershocks of your orgasm. Still, he could stay like this for days. Gently sucking on your tongue, running his along the roof of your mouth, feeling how your lips curve against his in a smile. Then, an alarming thought. Maybe this is the only way to do it that feels right now—sex, he means. With the helmet off, his lips on yours, his nose on your hair. Bare hands drawing circles on your hips. Every sense devoted to you. Even the briefest taste can be a point of no return.

You peck his lips and flutter sweet, short kisses around his jaw, working your way up to his ear, where you whisper, “We’re running out of time.”

The jammer. Those words are quickly becoming the bane of his existence. “I know,” he whispers back, but presses one last, long kiss to your lips that feels inexplicably sad, like a kiss goodbye. Din shakes the thought off his head. He’s too pessimistic sometimes.

You both hiss when he pulls out, slowly so he won’t hurt you.

“Keep ‘em closed,” he tells you before removing his hand from your eyes. For all he knows you could open them right there, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. Somehow, however, he’s certain you won’t. His trust is rewarded when he pulls the hand back, and your eyes are screwed shut beneath it.

It takes an awkward choreography to straighten yourselves. You try to pull your own underwear back on, but in your position it’s near impossible. So Din kneels behind you once more, fishes his helmet from the floor, tucks himself back into his trousers, and lifts your panties until they hug your hips. You push your own skirts down before Din’s upright, which results in the long fabric covering him like your furniture. You share a quick laugh before standing straight and facing each other.

“You can open them.”

Now, he tells himself, watching your sated smile and blinking eyes. The words are on the tip of his tongue: When this is over, would you like to come with me—

“If there’s a jammer here,” you say, before he can get a word out, “it’s in the workshop.”

You walk around him and open a door behind the reception desk to reveal the staircase that leads to your apartment. Din’s still telling himself that he’ll just ask you later, when you climb one step—and stop. You turn around like you can sense he’s about to ask, for the second time in this store, where you’re going.

“Gotta get some stuff from upstairs, but I’ll be down in a second.” Your voice wobbles, your foot hesitates on the step. You’re nervous. “But if you find the jammer before I come back, don’t…don’t leave.”

“Of course not.” Maker, of course he wouldn’t leave without you. Do you really think he would?

The workshop is darker than the reception. A single window, currently boarded up, so he has to use the helmet’s light. The cone of white light creates a sinister effect, like creatures lurk everywhere it doesn’t touch. Rubber tubes hang from the ceiling like lianas, circuit boards glimmer green like leaves, and yellow sensors blink from several components. Your own little ecosystem watches him dig into boxes of clutter to search for a jammer. Stars, he’s never known how you manage to find anything here. It’s probably best if he waits outside; he wouldn’t be able to find his own ship in here without you.

He’s turning to the door when the helmet’s light catches on a dark glint, like it reflected on a mirror. It stops him on his tracks. Din’s not sure what prompts his feet to carry him toward your worktable, where the mystery item lays center-front. He sees himself reflected on the dark T-visor. It’s a helmet. It’s a blue Mandalorian helmet.

At first he’s confused. Surprised to see a Mandalorian helmet here—and is it even a Madalorian helmet? Yes, yes it is. His brain lags behind his eyes, goes through different scenarios, each less likely than the last.

Is there another Mandalorian here? Did the Alor bring this? Is the Alor a client?

And then, truth.

It falls abruptly on his back like atmospheric pressure, gravity that crushes. A hot rush of blood enveloping his head, poisoning his thoughts, a ringing in his ears so sharp he thinks he might pass out. A million thoughts in less than a second—convoluted, scrambled, furious. Then an image, so clear that the Maker himself might’ve played it for him like a holo: Thieves, scammers, criminals scurrying through the tunnels of the Covert, the empty halls where his people built a refuge, where they could feel safe. The pile of beskar armor unguarded—the high price that brave Mandalorians paid to help Din, help the child—served in a silver platter for these scavengers, these fucking honorless lowlifes.

His gloved fingers grip your worktable so hard his knuckles might crack—or the table. But the Mandalorian can’t feel the pain on his joints, not when his bloodstream’s turned to acid, when it feels like somebody jammed live wires into his head.

This fucking place. This planet with its fucking people, their fucking cynicism, this fucking landfill for hazardous waste, this piece of shit skughole—

Above, the Mandalorian hears footsteps. Your footsteps. You.

He looks down at the helmet, the empty T-visor limp and black, dead. You did this. Thinking of you clears the red cloud from his mind, trades it for a gray one. A headache creeps behind his eyes, his shoulders go slack. He feels hollowed out. Like a spoon reached inside his chest and scooped away everything essential, left him a carcass. Like something died here today.

You did this.

And then the helmet is not a helmet, but a severed head. A head with a pool of blood around it, guts sprayed all over, and there’s the corrupt smell of blaster residue coming from his neighbor’s house, the taste of copper after biting his tongue running, the durasteel giants shooting red death, the deafening explosions, his parents’ screams, his school going up in a cloud of smoke, his father holding him, whispering one last sentence that he can’t hear through the sounds of war and carnage, his mother’s cheeks stained with tears and dirt and blood, their blurring faces, the darkness, the fear.

Holding the helmet, Din feels tears sting in the corners of his eyes, then hot on his cheeks. Nobody understands, why can’t anybody understand? The warrior that owned this helmet is lost forever, condemned to live like a phantom, empty without the Creed, without the Way. It’s worse than death. It’s the curse that most of the Covert was forced to carry, to walk this galaxy like living dead, violently stripped of everything that mattered. And the relic of their sacrifice sits in your workshop next to the rest of your junk, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder, somebody who’ll want to hang it in their wall like game they hunted, and how could you do this to him, how could you, how could you do this—

“Find anything yet?”

When the Mandalorian turns, his helmet’s white light locks you in place like quarry. Like guilty quarry.

You squint and raise a palm to shut out the bright beam. “Stars, Mando,” you laugh. “Are you trying to blind me? Turn that off.”

Your words are muffled by the rushing blood that wraps around his ears, loud as a waterfall, but he can understand them. The Mandalorian grips the helmet tighter between his hands and keeps the light on so you can see what he found, what he knows about you. The ugly, festered truth about you.

Once your eyes adjust to the bright light and they’re able to stay open for more than three seconds, you give him a quizzical look. The visor gives you nothing, so you drop your gaze to the hard evidence between his hands.

And you have the nerve to look even more surprised. Furrowed eyebrows and everything to add to the performance.

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

A thousand responses climb into his head in a savage, foul clutter, like army ants. I should ask you the same, where do you think?, how much are they giving you?, was it worth it?, what’s wrong with you?, what’s wrong with this fucking planet? He opens his mouth, but they swarm in his throat all at once and tie a knot around his windpipe. More tears on his cheeks, another attempt at words—nothing.

Finally, quietly: “How could you do this to me?”

The crease between your brows digs deeper, and there’s genuine worry in your eyes. Of course you’re worried, he just caught you red fucking handed. “Mando, I really don’t understand—”

“Me neither,” he hisses through his teeth, “because this is a Mandalorian helmet, and you’re no Mandalorian.” The first insect out, the rest follow like a waterfall, crawling out his mouth. “How long did you wait after I left to steal this from the Covert? An hour? Five minutes?”

Trapped under the light, where you can no longer hide in shadows, you look stricken. The harsh light shines on circles under your eyes, creases where you frown. Bleak features he never noticed before.

Your voice is low and icy when you say, “I never stole anything from the Covert.”

“Scavenge, loot, I don’t care what you people like to call it.” How could you, after everything, how could you.

“Listen to me,” you say steadily, but your eyes are hot coals and your jaw is set, your own anger rising. Good. Masks off. He wants to see who’s been hiding under his noses these nine days. All those fucking months. “I didn’t take a thing from the Covert. I have no idea where that helmet came from.”

The Mandalorian is barely listening. He’s heard more than enough lies for two lifetimes, he sure as fuck doesn’t need yours. Instead, he focuses on the one thought that manages to float in the red sea of anger and despair. He holds on to it like an anchor, clutches it until his palms bleed, but truth hurts.

“Duma.” He doesn’t ask this time around—he tells you. He knows and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing he can do about it. Greef Karga’s words shine painful light on fog. Boiling beskar…did you take her up on that deal? “You’re selling it to her.”

“Stars, of course not.” The stoniness of your features melts for an instant, hurt revealed underneath those layers. You look devastated, tired. Maker, you’re good. Those hours of sabacc are sure paying off. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“How can I believe you?” he snarls, his head suffocating in dark quicksand—grief, anger, betrayal all clogging his nostrils, making his head throb. How could you how could you how could you. “When I know what type of people sprout from this planet, I make a living hunting them. I know you—” his voice breaks, but the words keep flowing and he hardly hears them “—I know the kind of company you keep, I know you have no principles, I know you can’t commit to shit—”

“Commit?” you snap, face hardening cold and twisted like the magma outside, but he knows too well what lies beneath the surface. Lava, hot and bubbling, your anger as raw as his. Rawer. “You wanna talk about commitment? I waited for you for five months!” The light from the helmet no longer makes you squint, but it turns your eyes red and watery. “You left. You left me here to starve through a fucking siege that you caused—”

“I came back for you!”

That gives you pause. Then you shake your head. “No, you came back because that piece of shit official asked—”

“He asked to meet me in Belderone.” Belderone, same sector as Nevarro, not even ten minutes away in hyperspace. “Told me Nevarro wasn’t safe because there was a siege, so I insisted we meet here.” The memory drains him. How worried he was about you, the type of worried that stirs bile in the stomach. How guilty he felt. “To see you again. Make sure you were okay.” The Mandalorian looks down at the helmet in his hands, a strange mirror staring up at him. Harsher than the one from this morning. His ears ring, his mouth tastes sour, his rising headache plateaus into an unbearable, incessant throb. A ghost limb aches somewhere in his body, all over it. He wants to leave your store, your planet.

How could you?

Mando doesn’t raise his head to look at you when he walks out the workshop. You don’t stop him when he reaches the main door. You don’t stop him when he walks out to the street.

The sky is jaundice-yellow when he steps outside. Gone are this morning’s blue hues, suffocated by the sickly coughing of a million volcanos, by their fumaroles and their sparks. For all the Mandalorian cares, this planet can burn.

On his way to the cantina to pick up the kid, he stares at the marker that identifies the entrance to the city: that crooked, arthritis-ridden arch. Beyond it, he spots the outline of a ship. A sleek civilian shuttle, probably a rental. The official isn’t stupid enough to fly a Republic starship past siege lines, so if the tiny shuttle fooled Guideon’s platoon in the atmosphere, well, it’ll have to do it again. Tomorrow, they’ll just have to tempt fate and avoid tempting the batallion of Imperial cruisers. Or fly out in the Crest and hope they can jump into hyperspace before imps pulverize them. All he wants is to put as many lightyears between him and this planet.

Din’s head pounds when he walks inside the cantina. The only thought hammering against his skull: How could you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 5…’tis the end

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch @corrupt-fvcker @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @multifandomlife22 @justanotherblonde23 @abysshaven @equalstrashflavoredtrash @16boyfriends-and-me @ihaveashield @dinispunk @bananaagurl @mstgsmy @absurdthirst @cowboy-kylo @roxypeanut @heyitmelexie @readsalot73 @krazykatkay456 @elusive-danger-noodle @lola-wolf @nikkiparthena @lifeisapitch15 @teaofpeach @auty-ren @anewrule @hyp-oh-critical @pascaliprincess @geannad @coaaster @frietiemeloen @yourbucky084 @brynnstudies @elfwoodfae

im pretty sure i forgot someone so please message me if i did!

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #mywriting #rule maker rule breaker

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navegandoaciegas · 3 years

Text

Broken Wings {2/2}

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its Sheriff behind for good. Lee Bodecker would do anything to make sure you stay with him.

Warnings: smut, explicit language, non-con, breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, overall dark themes, kind of a slow build up to the nasty.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve had an eventful couple of days. This is part 2, read part 1 here.

The adrenaline that rushed through your veins blocked out the pain in your body and the noises around you. Your breathing came out in short, panicked huffs as you sprinted through the woods, Lee hot on your heels.

You thought back to the past 12 hours, and how they’d changed your life.

Leaving Knockemstiff and boarding a bus for New York, with your big dreams and a small bag. Almost reaching Pennsylvania’s border before your hopes were snatched away. Lee chasing said bus, blasting the sirens of his patrol car and pulling the driver over. The dread that settled in your stomach when you met his enraged stare, your hopes of a better life shattering in a million pieces, the anger and humiliation that had filled you when he’d dragged you, kicking and screaming, out of the bus, under the judgemental or pitying stares of the passengers.

“You can’t run from me, dove.”

His voice echoed in the woods, tantalizing and terrorizing you all the same. You’d managed to bolt away and hide in the woods before he could handcuff you, but you hadn’t made it too far before he’d found you.

In the event that he’d ever caught you, you’d imagined that he’d fall on his knees and beg you to stay. Lee dragging your ass out of the bus like any drunk bastard he’d escorted home after a fight was certainly not the reaction you’d expected.

You pushed the branches out of your face, feeling a new tear in the skin of your cheeks whenever you’d barrel through a bush. You had no idea where you were going, all you knew was that you had to keep running until your feet bled. Hide. Disappear.

Just a couple more miles and you’d find another town, you could catch a bus then, and maybe you’d be safe-

One second you were sprinting through the trees, and the next your foot was caught in an exposed root, and you tumbled down the slope with your arms stretched out to protect your face.

You hissed in pain when you lifted your palms from the ground. Debris stuck to the abrasion, and it burnt and stung when you flexed your hands. You tried standing up, but fell back among the leaves, feeling lightheaded.

You registered some more cuts on your knees, but you couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears that streamed down your face.

The branches contorted around you, and the shadows they casted danced around the edges of your vision.

New York, new life, new beginning. Your mom’s smile in her Sunday dress when she’d waved you off. The stench of alcohol in Lee’s breath when he’d caught on the bus.

You thought you’d heard a voice call your name in the distance before your vision went dark, and you let the void envelop you.

The sky had turned dark when Knockemstiff’s rusty welcome sign came into view, and he hadn’t spoken a word to you since you’d woken up in his car, with his dark leather jacket draped over your shoulders and bandages on your bruised skin.

You’d stopped sobbing, and you’d run out of pleads, apologies, and tears.

For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him.

His car pulled to a stop in a deserted parking lot. He killed off the engine, and clenched his jaw, inhaling a deep breath before he spoke.

“What was goin’ through that dumb head of yours, sweetie? What made you think you could up, and fuckin’ leave me like that?” he bit through gritted teeth, chest heaving. “One of the boys called me this morning, said he heard your mother talk about you to one of her old hags, babblin’ ‘bout leaving for good, New York, a job.”

He let out a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“He thought she’d finally done lost her goddamn mind. Ain’t no sheriff’s girl leaving town for good, he said.”

“I’m sorry, Lee, I should've told you, I was selfish-”

“Yes, you fuckin’ were, fuckin’ selfish is what you are.” he screamed, and you jumped in surprise, because he’d never raised his voice at you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want. I don’t want that. You know I don’t belong here Lee, just lemme go, forget all about me.” you pleaded once again, voice small and broken.

He stayed silent for a moment after your little rant, before bursting into a fit of laughter. His body shook with the vibration, and he clutched his stomach, as if no joke had ever sounded so fun in his ears.

“Forget about you? Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. I love you too much.”

“If you love me, let me go Lee, I’m begging you. Please.” you sobbed, gripping his hands in yours, hoping your wobbling lips would move him.

He sighed, and enveloped your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips. He left a trail of kisses from the inside of your wrists to your knuckles.

“Come with me, then. Leave this shitty place behind for good, Lee. Ain’t nothing good’s come out of ‘ere anyways.”

You thought you’d seen his resolve break. You thought he’d choose you for once. Choose you over his thirst for power.

“You know I can’t do that,” he snapped, raising his voice again, “I’m so close to gettin’ myself elected, the campaign is going well, I can’t give up now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you pressed, anger hardening your stare.

He held your gaze for a moment before looking ahead, eyes unreadable for the first time since you’d met him.

“You know I’m selfish too,” he shrugged.

He reached for his belt, and held up the metal handcuffs, wordlessly securing them around your wrists, ignoring your protests.

“Just stay here.” he grumbled before swinging the door open.

The cold, unyielding cuffs dug in your wrists as you attempted to tug them free from the metal hook on the dash where they were attached to.

It was useless, but it made you feel like you were actually trying. You were mad at Lee, of course, at whoever had tipped him off, and at yourself.

Especially at yourself for your wistful thinking, for convincing yourself that Lee would have given up on you as you’d had on him. For not running fast enough, being strategic enough.

You huffed in annoyance when the metal hook refused to give in, and fell back on the headrest with a groan.

Your calves and shins were sore from your crazy sprint in the woods, and the palms of your hands were scraped from your fall. Lee had cleaned the cuts, but they still stung when you’d inadvertently brush them against each other.

You were mostly unscathed, except for your wounded pride.

You wished your glare could incinerate Lee on the spot when he opened the door to the driver’s seat with a smirk on his lips. The car creaked and swayed when he sat down.

“Fries and vanilla shakes, your favorite.” he announced, opening up the brown paper bag on his lap.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumbled, turning your head to observe the diner’s feeble neon lights in the distance.

Your stomach chose that moment to betray you, and let out a growl when the waft of fried food reached your nose. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were starving.

“Your tummy seems to think otherwise, dove.”

You used to think that his cocky loopsided grin gave a youthful glow to his face, but now you couldn’t help but hate the satisfaction it oozed.

“Open up.” he chirped, a handful of fries in his hands.

You rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself. “You’re not actually going to do that, are ya? Just uncuff me, Lee.

“I won’t uncuff you until I’m sure I can trust that you won’t run off on me, dove. Might take a while, tho. Now open up.”

You parted your lips, deciding that this one wouldn’t be the hill you’d choose to die on. Glaring at him, you took a bite out of the fries. He hissed when your teeth snapped hard against his fingers, but let out a chuckle seeing you in the state you were in, amused by your pathetic struggle.

“Good girl.” he praised you, feeding you some more like you used to do on those long nights patrolling the streets. Back when feeding each other was an act of love, not a humiliating punishment.

“So how was your little trip in Ohio, sweetie? Enjoyed the fields?”

He hummed when you refused to speak, and brought the milkshake to your mouth, studying your lips as they closed on the striped paper straw, and your cheeks hollowing when you sucked.

“Could’ve drove you myself if you’d asked. Could’ve brought you somewhere nice on holiday this winter. Someplace outside of Ohio.” he continued, taking a sip for himself, “Maybe we can go to a beach on our honeymoon, whaddya say, huh?”

You snorted at his audacity, almost inhaling the milkshake.

“What honeymoon are you talking about, Lee? Ain’t no way I’m marrying you now.”

He shook his head again, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yes, you are, dove. You are marrying me.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head as you gave him an incredulous look. Had you been blinded by love, or was he showing his true colors now?

“What, you’re gonna drag me by the hair and force me to sign the papers? Don’t think the preacher or the fine citizens of this shitty fuckin’ town are gonna like that too much.”

You scoffed, feeling your vision blur with tears again.

Lee levelled his face with yours, eyes darting between your own. You’d never noticed the darkness in him, and it made your heartbeat spike for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t need to drag you, dove. You’re gonna come to that altar with a smile on these pretty lips. And you know why?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

His calloused hand caressed your thigh, slowly hiking up your pleated skirt. “Because I’m finally gonna put a child inside you tonight, and nothing’s gonna stop me.”

Before you had time to react, or panic, he’d climbed to the passenger’s side, caging you in with his large body. He slanted his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue between your lips that you’d parted in a surprised gasp.

You pushed your shoulders against his, trying to pry him away, but he groped you relentlessly. Panic gripped you when you realized you were bound and at his mercy, and he wasn’t joking about his intentions.

“Gonna keep you chained until I knock you up, dove. Keep you in my house, can’t trust that mother of yours,” he huffed between kisses, hands roaming over your body.

“Stop, Lee, have you lost your goddamn mind? Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you asshole. Lemme go.”

You managed to kick his stomach, but in the frantic haze that had overcome him, he barely took notice, continuing his exploration of your body.

You shrieked when his hand dipped in your panties, and to your utter shame, found them soaked.

“You really want me to stop? Because your pussy is telling me a whole ‘nother story, sweetie. Feel how wet you are for me, you like this, don’t ya?”

He brought his finger to your lips, forcing your mouth open until you’d sucked him clean of your juices. He hummed when he dipped down and kissed you again, tasting your arousal on your tongue.

Your teeth snapped on his bottom lip until you’d drawn blood, and he released you with a hiss. His hand gripped your jaw, and tears began blurring your vision.

You couldn’t find adoration, love, and care in his eyes, only cruel determination.

The screams you let out sounded like a muffled gargle.

“Scream all you want, no one’s gonna hear you, and if they do, what’re they gonna say to me? I’m the sheriff sweetie, I’m the law. You were just stupid enough to think you could escape me.”

You pushed, kicked, screamed, thrashed until the metal cuffs had scrubbed your skin raw, fighting the hands that were pushing your bra down until your tits spilled out.

His fingers grazed your heated skin like they’d done a million times before, staining your loving memories forever.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you, all round and swollen.” he groaned, nipping at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin hard enough to hurt you, “All the men in this town are gonna be jealous of me. Might have to keep you locked up all the time.”

You couldn’t deny the throbbing in your core when his tongue licked a stripe behind your ear, nor the arousal soaking through your panties when slid his hand over the hair on your mound, teasing you.

“Gonna keep these tits full of milk for a long time sweetie.”

You moaned when his thick fingers breached your entrance, feeling the pressure build up as he kept pumping them in and out of you. He kept his thumb on your clit, the way he knew you liked, until you were so sensitive and overstimulated that you couldn’t tell pain and pleasure apart.

“You can never leave me, never again. Don’t you understand, I’m nothing without you. I need you.”

He played your body so well that it made you sick.

“Please Lee,” you panted, clenching your jaw to suppress your wanton sounds, “Don’t do this. There’s no turning back from this. Please.” you pleaded, lips wobbling.

“That’s the point,” he huffed, struggling to fit in the space between the passenger’s seat and the dashboard.

He forcefully spread your legs open, making a quick work of ripping your cotton panties to shreds. Bringing his face down to your glistening cunt, he inhaled a deep breath before delving into your folds, tongue lapping at your juices. The lewd, slurping sounds soon mixed with your moans that you could no longer keep in.

By that point you didn’t know if you were fighting to keep his head where it was or to rip it out of his neck.

“You taste like heaven, so fuckin’ sweet.” he grunted before latching onto your bud, hollowing his cheeks arount it as he sucked you off.

Fireworks went off in your lower belly when pleasure exploded inside you. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body, rendering your limbs limp and heavy.

All rational thoughts thrown out the window, you melted into his body when he surged forward to slant his lips against yours. He swallowed your moans with his hungry kisses, cradling your face like the most precious artifact.

It felt wrong, yet so right. He was still Lee. Your Lee. The one who’d drive and sing with you, who’d found your dad a job after he’d lost it, who’d made love with the most care unlike any other man who’d ever laid a finger on you.

At least, that’s what you tried telling yourself when he pushed his hard, leaking cock inside your swollen cunt, and your body welcomed him in your warmth without any fight.

You both snarled when he sheathed himself inside you.

“I love you so much sweetie, I can’t lose you again.”

It was wrong and dirty, but it was okay to feel good because it was your Lee between your legs.

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and slumped against the seat. His cock reached deeper than you thought possible, and you felt every ridge and veins slide over your walls.

Teeth clattering, bruising touches. You ached to touch him, maybe claw his eyes out or caress his chubby cheeks.

Electricity jolted every nerve ending on your body, and the next words he whimpered in your ear would have been a cold shower, had you not been so far gone already.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum inside you, dove, fill you up with my cum over and over again until I’m sure I’ve put a baby in you. Fuck-”

He snapped his hips harder against yours, thrusting his cock in and out of you. Your cunt quivered around him, gripping him tightly. He pushed you over the edge over and over again, until you were a drooling mess who couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore.

“I told you sweetie, it’s only a matter of time.” He punctuated each world he panted in the crook of your neck with a harsher thrust of his hips. “Ain’t no more parking lots, just a big ole bed. Yeah, people like me in this town, you know that, dove. I’ll get myself elected-, get a- cushy place up on Brewer Heights. We’ll be happy, have kids and all. My pretty wife, fuck- every man in this shitty town will envy me.”

You bucked your hips against his, wildly chasing your release. He could feel another one of your orgasms near by the way you clenched around him.

“Fuck-, God, you’re squeezin’ me. Fuckin’ cum on ny cock dove, I want to feel you come all over me, make a mess on me.”

You pushed out the muscles of your pelvis, and the intensity of your pleasure almost blacked you out again as you gushed all over him, soaking through your skirt onto the seat.

His cock swelled and twitched, and he released himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot spurt. The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, a fullness you never thought you could experience.

Your chest heaved as you slumped on the seat, arms aching and wrists scrubbed raw.

His cock softened inside you, and he watched enthralled his seed spill out of your cunt, your abused hole still clenching around nothing.

“Jesus, I hope it takes, dove.”

He droned some more, but you’d stopped listening. You kept staring ahead, letting him dress you back again like a motionless doll.

Had you been more aware, you would have seen the shadow of guilt creep on his face, soon replaced by cool determination when he blinked the tears away and hardened his stare once again.

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore.

Static noises interrupted his actions.

“Any cars around-...got a call from Hawk at the bar- anyone can check that out?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, picking up the radio, “I wanted to go at it a few more times, just to make sure.”

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed by in a blur. You had no idea where you were, or how long it’d been since he dragged you back in this hellhole.

New York, a new job, a new beginning. It all seemed so far.

There was only one thing you knew for sure.

“I’m getting out of ‘ere again, Lee.” You murmured in a daze, “I’m getting out and God himself couldn’t stop me if he tried.”

Drained of all energies, you let the soothing sway of the car lull you to sleep.

Lee sighed to himself, watching you so defensless, bound at his mercy. He’d take care of you until the end of his miserable life, and protect you from everything, even yourself.

“I'm the only God here, sweetie, and I can assure you, you’re not going anywhere.”

Afterall, his dove couldn’t fly away from him with broken wings.

I hope you enjoyed this! Please, leave some feedback. It means the world to me! 💓

#sebastian stan x reader #lee bodecker x reader #dark lee!bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #the devil all the time

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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Unprofessional [pt. 2] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Bro can I request a super smutty yandere tendou x reader please there’s literally no content for him and I’m just a honry simp for him 😔 (also your writing is FANFUCKINGTASTIC I have read and reread all of your docs dude at least twice in conclusion you’re my favorite writing blog now)

A/N: Thank you omg I’m so honored, seriously I’m blushing?? Also I love Tendou too so ty for the request. Finished the second (and final) part one day late for his birthday 🎂🥳🎁🎊🎉

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 1]

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 23), noncon, mildly inebriated sex, restraints/bondage, threats, Tendou is incapable of shutting up, liberal use of “senpai”

You look so cute like this, wrapped up like a pretty birthday present just for him. Tendou likes you so much it hurts.

Your breaths are intentionally steady, like you’re counting out the proper number of seconds on each inhale and exhale in an effort to appear calm. Your chest heaves lightly, and he’s got an almost-perfect view of it with your blouse unbuttoned and your bra pushed up over your tits. He’d prefer to have you completely topless, but with your hands tied behind your back with his belt, his options are limited.

Tendou’s already shimmied your sensible pencil skirt down over your thighs to expose your legs. You looked so sexy in just your open shirt and pantyhose, but he had to take the hose off for access. Besides, removing the sheer black fabric (slowly, so that it wouldn’t rip—he knows those things aren’t cheap) gave him the opportunity to feel up your legs. Panties came next, and now you’re on your back glaring up at him with your legs crossed and folded to hide your naked pussy.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Of course he took a few pictures.

The only issue is the gag. Tendou has his tie wound over your mouth to keep you quiet. It won’t do—he wants to see your face, after all—but he’s already got a fix, in the form of a little square of plastic he takes from his pocket.

He holds it up close enough that you can see it. “Do you know what this is?”

You don’t nod or anything, but you definitely recognize it—a condom.

“We’re going to have sex, senpai.” Tendou picks up on the little catch in your breath when he says the word ‘sex’, but he doesn’t think about it. “I don’t really care if I wear a condom, but I think you probably do. Is that right?”

You don’t respond.

“Senpaiii…don’t be stubborn. Nod yes for a condom, or else I’m not gonna wear one.”

You glare like you want to kill him, but you nod. Haha, how cute.

“Okay, good. I like when you do what I tell you. Now, I want to take the gag off, but I won’t do it if you’re going to be loud, you understand? It’s rude to bother your neighbors late at night. And…” He pauses. “Just to make sure you play nice, if you don’t listen to me I’ll take the condom off and cum inside. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically.

“Thought so.” Tendou’s pale, nimble fingers splay out over your inner thigh. “Then can you promise you’ll be nice?”

It takes you a long minute during which Tendou entertains himself petting the sweat-damp skin of your thigh, but you finally nod.

“Great!” Tendou grins and reaches down to untie the gag.

You take a minute to open and close your mouth, probably trying to stretch out the stiff muscles before you speak. Your voice is impassive and cool like you’ve been practicing what you’re going to say. “Tendou, you need to untie me. You’re very drunk and not in your right mind. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

Instead of listening to you, Tendou chooses to strip. Your composed mask slips for a second when he takes off his boxers to reveal his stiff, throbbing hard cock, already aching red and drizzling strands of precum onto his hand when he strokes it up and down. “Don’t worry baby, I sober up quick. I might be a lil tipsy but I’m not gonna have any trouble performing. Not for you.”

He crouches down to center you in between his arms, holding his head directly above yours. “And besides—“ you try to pull back away from his hot breath but your limited range of movement prevents you from getting anywhere— “I’m not going to regret this.”

Your lips are soft under his and you still taste fresh and sweet and minty from the toothpaste. You’re unresisting when his tongue prods into your mouth, but that’s not enough. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs, and you do. Maybe it’s just mindless—he’s sure you’ve kissed other people, as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise—but the movements of your lips and teeth and tongue against his feel almost eager.

“Ha…my first kiss with senpai,” Tendou says, pulling back and licking over his swollen lips. It would be nice to take his time with everything, but there’ll be more chances for that later. He loves the way your eyes trace him as he sticks his own fingers in his mouth to cover them with saliva.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but your question is answered when Tendou easily pulls your legs apart and settles himself between them so he can have easy access to slide his spit-soaked fingers up the length of your slit. “Tendou—Tendou, wait—“

He shushes you and continues to drag his middle finger all the way up from your entrance to your clit, letting the rough texture of his skin combine with your slick lubricant and give you just enough stimulation to make your hips twitch. “Mm, you like that? Gotta get you ready baby…not to brag, but I’m a little bigger than most guys. Wouldn’t want to—oh, easy, easy, relax��wouldn’t want to hurt you.“

You wince and then try to hold it back, school your expression so he won’t see the discomfort on your face when a single finger pushes into you. It’s not that painful, but the physical feeling isn’t nearly as bad as the fact that you don’t want any of this.

“How is that?” Tendou asks, slowly rocking his index finger in and out of your pussy, barely curling the tip to seek out your g-spot. You suppress the minuscule jerk of your core as best you can, but you can’t quite make it invisible and he feels it. “That good, huh?”

You want so badly to be angry. You are angry. If you could speak your mind right now, you’d tell him to go to hell. Yes, it feels good (and even admitting that to yourself makes you want to curl up and die), but it’s just hormones, stimulation, reaction. You can’t help it. But you’re not going to say that to him, not if you have the least chance of convincing him to stop before he goes any further. “It’s…fine. But, Tendou—“

“Knew you would like it. Oh—“ Another finger forces into your cunt. “—you’re tight, senpai. It’s been a while, yeah? You don’t have a boyfriend, I’d know if you did…and you’re not the type to do this casually. Too focused on your career.”

“I…mm…” What is he saying? Typical Tendou running his mouth even while you’re focused on him fucking you with those long fingers, prodding away at that spot—that fucking spot that is somehow, somehow—

—making you wet.

It’s not like some kind of precision activity. Tendou isn’t building you up or being subtle about it. There’s no teasing, no gentle touches, he’s just stroking that same spot over and over and the flat of his hand is mashing against your clit carelessly and it’s so stupid and so messy and there’s nothing kind or loving about it so why is it working?

“Feel that? Feel how wet you are?” Tendou has that same self-satisfied grin as he works his fingers in and out. “Poor senpai… You needed this, but you can’t ask for it yourself, I understand.”

“I don’t need anything…” you say, but you can’t expect him to believe you when your juices are slipping in and out of your hole along with his fingers, lubing him up to move even faster than before. When he started, you were so tense and tight that he could barely twist his fingertips up to pad at your g-spot, but now? Your walls are hot and sticky and supple, sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He wants to make you cum, he does. And if he keeps going, it’s not going to be long, is it? But it’s your first time together… Tendou feels his cheeks getting hotter. First time with senpai, first time seeing you and touching you and having you totally, completely belong to him. The first time he makes you cum, it should be together.

If he’s not mistaken, you look almost disappointed when his fingers work their way out of your pussy, drawing away from you and wiping clean on the inside of your thigh. “You—You’re not…?” you question, trailing off when apparently you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

“Don’t worry baby, plenty of time for that when I’m inside you.” Tendou walks his way up on the bed to leave a kiss on your forehead, so quick that you can’t cringe away when he does it.

You look off to the side, determined not to give him the satisfaction of eye contact—not to mention you hate looking at him, you hate seeing his stupid creepy face leering at you like you’re…you’re lovers or something. Like he’s not forcing you. But your attempt to maintain even that measly degree of avoidance shatters when you hear plastic crinkling. Ripping.

He’s opening the condom.

“Tendou—Tendou, wait! Listen!” You swallow and try to pull yourself back into your workplace persona, the mentor he respected and learned from, even if it was just an act. “Listen to me, please. You’re making a mistake. If we—if we stop now, we can forget about it...we can go back to normal, I promise. Do you hear me? I promise.”

“Normal isn’t enough anymore. Y’know what normal is for me? I’ve loved you for fifteen years. Wanted this for so long.” Tendou rolls the condom on and then hikes your ass upward so his cock is lined up with your slit. “Senpai, don’t you think you’ve had your way for long enough? It’s time…it’s time for me to get what I want.”

For the first time since he caught you and pinned you down on the floor of your living room, you struggle, really struggle for all you’re worth. The stiff leather of Tendou’s belt bites into your wrists and forearms as you try and get out of it, but the restraints hold firm—in fact, it feels like they’re getting tighter the more you move. Your hands are going numb from lack of blood flow, the prickles of pins and needles stinging into your skin, but you ignore it. You’re too worried about being heard to scream (and how twisted is it that you’re more scared of your neighbors than him?) but you jerk your leg up in an attempt to kick him away.

Tendou catches your foot before it can hit him. Easily. It’s like he sees everything you’re doing before you do it. “Hey, hey, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Let me go, Tendou!” you hiss as loudly as you dare.

“Senpai…” His grip on your lower thigh tightens, a warning. “What did I say about being nice?”

You go limp. You don’t want to have sex with him, but you cannot—absolutely cannot—have him do it unprotected.

Tendou sighs as you relax in his grasp. “Good choice… Always so rational. But I want you to say it out loud, okay? Tell me you know what’s going to happen if you misbehave.”

Once again, you find yourself avoiding his gaze. How dare he say he loves you and then treat you like this. “…You’re going to take off the condom.”

“Yeah…” Once again, you feel the thick, stiff cock nudging against your inner thigh. He slides it up between your lips to slick it up. “And what am I going to do when I take it off?”

“You’ll…put it in raw. And…”

“And?”

“…c-cum inside.”

“And you don’t want me to do that. So behave, senpai.”

Tendou pushes into you in one deep stroke and you gasp. ‘A little bigger than most guys,’ he’d said. A little bigger? He’s a liar, again—he’s so big that you can already feel the thick head flush against your cervix, pressing there like he wants to go deeper. “T-Too deep, it’s too deep—“

“Shh, you just gotta get used to it…” Tendou leans down, folding your legs up into your chest so he can trap you between him and the mattress and speckle light kisses over your face. “You have to relax. I’ll be slow.”

The position is uncomfortable. He’s got your spine curled up off the bed and your thighs are burning from the stretch, but his skin bumps against your clit every time he makes the slightest movement. Once you’re steady, he pulls back a fraction and then thrusts back into you, barely moving, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cockhead receding and then hitting back against your cervix. It’s slow, but it’s not slow enough—nothing is slow enough with how big he is.

Tendou kisses you again, pulling your head back to center so he can shove his tongue into your mouth just like he’s shoving his cock into your pussy. He’s not content to keep up the languid pace for long, though—as soon as you’re the tiniest bit relaxed, as soon as the barest muffled whimpers are forced out of your mouth, he’s lengthening his thrusts and slapping the entire length of his heavy cock back in and out of you.

You almost wish he would stop dragging it out. You don’t want to feel this, any of this, not him groaning into your mouth, not the weight of his body holding you down and spreading your thighs apart, and definitely not the dizzying friction of the head of his cock on your g-spot. You wouldn’t even be feeling it like this if he hadn’t prepared you and left you wanting.

You close your eyes and try to pretend that it’s someone else doing it to you, but it’s impossible. Tendou was right earlier, it’s been too long—there’s no one else in recent memory who you can picture in his place. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever been fucked like this. Everything you can sense is screaming out that it’s him, him, him, from his whiny voice moaning out love confessions you don’t want to hear to the spicy-sweet cologne, the same one he wears around the office, now mixed with his sweat and so saturated you think you could choke on it.

You’re trying to imagine someone else’s cock driving your pussy open, anyone else—a boy you had a crush on in high school, the guy you’d lost your virginity to in college, even an actor you like—but it doesn’t work, because no matter who you try to pretend is fucking you you know it’s Tendou.

“Hey—senpai, look at me…” He’s patting your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. “Open your eyes…look what I’m doing to you.”

“Don’t…don’t make me…” You shudder as he pushes all the way back in, bottoming out so he can grind his hips cruelly against your mound and provide untidy stimulation to your clit.

“Look.” Tendou’s voice is hard. He isn’t asking anymore.

With the threat from earlier hanging over your head, you don’t have a choice, do you? You open your eyes and look at him.

Tendou Satori. Even in the middle of drilling you, he’s beaming like you’re making him happy. There are twin pink patches high on his cheekbones under his eyes. He’s sweating—makes sense, he’s doing all the work. His lips are red and swollen from kissing you.

Tendou Satori, who brings you coffee at work even when you didn’t ask for it. Who misspells the same word 3 different ways every time he writes up a sales contract. Who said during his first interview that his greatest weakness is that he has a habit of going with his gut, and that his greatest strength is that his gut is usually right.

How is this the same person? No…no, that’s not what’s making you upset. It’s not that the Tendou fucking you is somehow so different from the one you thought you knew. It’s that he’s the same, the same man who never really listens when you say no, who never stops touching you when you say it bothers you. This is just the next thing. It makes sense.

“Senpai?” Tendou’s hips slow and he leaves his cock sitting thick and hard in your battered pussy. “Senpai? Are you…you’re crying?”

He’s blurry and your eyes sting and you want to wipe at them, but, well, your hands are tied. Literally. Tendou holds himself over you with one arm so the other can thumb over your wet eyes. “Don’t touch me,” you blubber out, knowing it won’t have any effect.

“Shh, shh, stop crying,” he says, sounding panicked. “Please stop crying. Please stop.”

Your silent weeping is interrupted by a whimper as he pulls out of you. You feel…something, maybe relief or maybe disappointment, but mostly you’re just overwhelmed. You’re slack as a puppet while he flips you over and carefully unbuckles the belt from your arms. The pins and needles return in full force once you’re unbound, discomforting to the point of pain as Tendou massages over the tender flesh with his own hands.

“Sorry…Looks like it was a little too tight.”

Once Tendou’s released you, you hold up an arm to examine yourself. There are red marks where the edges of the belt dug into your skin. Your hands are still prickly, still desensitized as you clumsily rub your eyes, but you just can’t seem to stop crying.

“Shh,” Tendou says over your shoulder from where he’s sitting behind you, and you’re so sick of hearing him shush you but you can’t bring yourself to respond. “I love you, senpai… Please don’t cry.”

The way he says it—so hurt, so caring, so desperate, makes your heart ache. You’d almost believe him…if he weren’t pushing you back down onto the bed, face first this time. You don’t have the energy to resist as he pulls your ass up to his hips. At least now you can bite down on the sheet to shut yourself up as he fills your aching cunt again.

This time, though, now that he’s fucking you like a dog, he’s got the space to reach down around your hips and stroke your clit. The shock of the contact is enough to scare the tears out of your eyes and you cry out.

Tendou takes your response as permission to do more, rubbing over your button with no regard for how delicate and sensitive you’re feeling. “Yeah, yeah, you like that… Senpai likes it when I touch her needy little pussy? Come on, let me hear you.”

“Tendou—mmph, Tendou, st—ahh…?” But you can’t really tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. If you’re going to have to get fucked like this, shouldn’t you at least get to get off? It’s only fair.

Fair. The thought crosses your mind and you almost laugh—maybe you would if the force of Tendou’s body weight wasn’t smothering your face into the pillows. Nothing about this is fair.

“Do you like it?” You can hear how excited he is. “Tell me—tell me you like it, senpai? Please. Please?”

With trembling arms, you raise your upper body off the bed just enough so that you can turn your head to the side and speak. “Keep touching me. Like that.”

He does, padding over your clit senselessly while his cock does its brutal work on your insides. You feel…fucking amazing, and Tendou’s so happy, so grateful to have your beautiful pure dirty body holding onto him, sucking him into your cunt and holding yourself around him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not inside you filling you up. Your pussy is incredibly responsive, clenching down in him in time with his fingers moving on your clit. God, he could cum right now…but you have to cum first, he has to make you cum, it has to be together.

He’s so glad you’re not crying anymore. You like it, he knows you do. He’s had you getting closer and closer for a while now, and all the ups and downs and stopping you before you can cum are definitely making you need it even more.

You’re getting louder. You probably don’t even realize it, but you are. Tendou wishes he had something recording.

“I’m—fuck, I’m…c-cu…” Telling him is reflexive, a gesture of courtesy you’re used to from previous partners. He doesn’t deserve it, but you give it to him anyway.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Tendou coos. His touches grow even rougher somehow, abusing your clit while he nudges himself out so he can slide his cock back and forth over your g-spot. The aggressive rhythm of the stimulation has your spine arching up and he pushes you back down to keep you in place. “Stay down…let me do it for you.”

“Tendou!” you cry out, and he feels it, feels you cum, feels your whole body wracked with tremors, feels the walls of your cunt squeeze his cock like you’re trying to hold him inside. Fuck. Fuck. It’s too good, your pussy is so tight and warm and drenched in your juices, he can’t think, he wants it, wants to cum, wants to cum with you, together, together, together.

Tendou’s hand leaves your clit just in time to grip your ass and slam himself back into you, holding you impaled on his cock while both of you shudder through your post-orgasm aftershocks. “Senpai…senpai. I love you,” he gasps, and cums, hips jerking against yours as his mind goes blank for a second.

Fuck, it feels good, feels like his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Tendou…” It’s all you can say. You can feel him getting softer inside you, and he pulls out to take off the condom. Once he’s gotten rid of it, you let him flip you onto your side and lie next to you on the bed.

“How was that, senpai?” Tendou asks, kissing you slowly. He cuddles up to you, pulling your back into his chest so your bodies are fitted together like puzzle pieces. His heart is pounding like a rabbit’s—you’d think it was cute if not for…everything.

You’re quiet.

“I know you liked it.” Another kiss, this time on the back of your neck. “You needed it just as much as I did. And I know you won’t want to admit it at first, right? You’ve got your professional reputation to maintain, I get it. But don’t worry—“

You wish he would shut up. You wish he would leave you alone. You wish he wasn’t holding you so close that you can feel his cock against your ass, and you wish—you wish you couldn’t feel him getting hard, again.

“—this was just our first time. And there’s gonna be lots more. You and me? We’re going to be together forever, senpai.”

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori #smut #tw noncon

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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The Love We Have

Part 2/5 - AO3 - Previous - next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None?? Maybe… I’ll add them later if I remember any.

_______

They’d reached Kaer Morhen by dinner. The keep was… not as impressive as Jaskier had imagined. Deep down he’d known that the home of the wolf witchers had been severely damaged long before Jaskier had taken his first breath, but in his head he’d always imagined a beautiful awe inspiring castle that rose from the mountains and dominated the horizon.

It was barely more than a ruin.

A very pretty ruin, one that Jaskier would normally find absolutely fascinating from an academic perspective, but… he was supposed to be living here during the harsh cold winter.

Perhaps this really had been a bad idea.

He swallowed, debating hiding behind Geralt as they entered the keep, but there was a reason that he’d become a bard instead of inheriting his noble title. If there was one thing Jaskier could do, it was perform. He took a deep breath and plastered a blinding smile onto his face. It was time to act. He laced his fingers with Geralt’s and flashed his witcher a wink before pulling him through the big heavy wooden gates. Another silver-haired witcher grunted as Jaskier flew past him.

“We made it!” he cried with false cheer, spinning both him and Geralt round in a circle. The witcher thankfully loosened his grip on Roach’s reins and she trotted off towards the stable. “I can’t believe we finally made it, oh darling it’s beautiful.”

Geralt’s flushed, a pretty pink that was stark against his pale skin. “Jask,” he groaned but let himself be pulled around, much to Jaskier’s delight.

The other witcher cleared his throat and Jaskier ground to halt, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and pressing his face into his chest with a giggle. “My deepest apologies!” he exclaimed, pulling away from Geralt but keeping an iron tight grip on Geralt’s hand as he bowed deeply. “I am Jaskier, Geralt’s partner.”

He gave the witcher a charming smile and winked as he extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, as the other witcher stoically ignored his greeting. “Stop flirting.”

Jaskier pouted, but sighed and curled back up into Geralt’s side, taking advantage of the heat. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Geralt had been blessed by fire nymphs. It would explain the smokey musk that followed Geralt everywhere, even when they hadn’t been near a campfire in days.

“Geralt, what is this?” the other witcher grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his face clear in its stony disapproval.

“Jaskier, my bard, partner,” Geralt muttered. “He’s staying with us this winter. Jaskier, this is Vesemir.”

“Hi,” Jaskier said with an awkward wave.

“Take him to your room and then come down to the library.”

Vesemir walked away before either of them could argue. Jaskier let out a low whistle. “Well, shit. That didn’t go so well.”

“He’s just protective,” Geralt insisted, squeezing Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier looked down at their linked fingers, surprised that they were still together. As far as Jaskier could tell, Vesemir was the only witcher at the keep, and thus the only one they had to convince for now. There was no need for Geralt to keep hold of his hand… and yet, here they were.

“I just want them to like me,” Jaskier sighed.

“They will.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Darling,” the pet name rolling off his tongue without thought, “It took you years to warm up to me.”

“That’s not true,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is!” he said as he poked Geralt in the chest.

Geralt hummed and stalked away, pulling Jaskier with him as if he’d completely forgotten they were even holding hands. Jaskier yelped and tripped over his own feet, gripping onto Geralt’s arm to steady himself. It was going to be an interesting winter indeed.

_____________

Geralt’s room was very lovely. He had a large double bed pressed up to the one wall. It was covered in furs of varying types, mostly wolf fur by the feel of it. There was also a large heavy rug in front of the fireplace that was blazing. As a result, the room was actually warm, almost too warm after the numbing cold of the mountain. There was a warm scent of lavender in the room that Jaskier hadn’t expected. It was a scent he enjoyed himself and he frequently chose perfumes and oils that were lavender based if the coin allowed. He found a small incense on the windowsill, the source of the smell. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Whilst Geralt was away he could imagine that the witcher had chosen this particular scent to keep Jaskier with him over their months, sometimes even years, apart.

It was nonsense, nothing but a dream, but it warmed Jaskier’s heart nonetheless. He flopped down onto the bed, exhausted in both mind and body. It was larger than the ones they’d had to share at the inns on the road. He was strangely grateful for that. It meant he’d be able to put at least some distance between him and Geralt. He would need that if he were to survive the winter. He rolled onto his front and pulled his lute case from off the floor. Once his precious instrument was safely unpacked and in his hands, he rolled back, staring up at the ceiling as he plucked tunelessly at the strings.

The cold had ruined the tuning just like he’d suspected it would. It was hard enough to keep the damned instrument in tune without the sudden changes in temperature, but at least it gave him something to focus on. He closed his eyes and fiddled with the pegs one by one, plucking at the strings with possibly more force than necessary, until his darling instrument was once again the envy of all the Continent.

He sighed dramatically and began to pull a heart wrenching melody from his baby. It had no words yet, but the message was clear to even an untrained ear. It was melancholic, full of longing, heartache… and lust.

He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until a sob tore from his throat. He cradled his lute to his chest and let the tears flood down his cheeks. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was crying. Perhaps the whole journey up the mountain had just been a bit much for him. Physically he was completely exhausted. He wasn’t sure his toes would ever recover from the cold and even though they’d taken it slowly, the mountain path was called The Killer for a reason. It would have been hard enough even without the emotional toil that had accompanied it.

The hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He gasped and shuffled until his back hit the headboard. It took him a moment to notice the soft yellow eyes looking down at him.

“Ah, Geralt,” he greeted with as much cheer in his voice as he could muster.

“You’re crying,” Geralt whispered, behaving uncharacteristically soft for the witcher. Jaskier bit back a groan of confusion at the concern lying in those familiar amber eyes. His heart was too fragile right now for this emotional whiplash and Geralt’s odd behaviour was opposite of what he needed at the moment.

“Just tired,” he muttered, wiping the tears from his face.

Geralt carefully took the lute from his hands and returned it to its case. Jaskier felt an urge to hug Geralt and never let go. No one had even treated Jaskier or his belongings with such tenderness. Gods, he was a mess. He was almost crying again because Geralt had touched his lute and didn’t break it.

“You’ll feel better after some food and then we can come back upstairs. Vesemir won’t be expecting our company this evening. We won’t have to pretend.”

Jaskier chewed his bottom lip to stop himself from blurting out that it wouldn’t be a pretence. That would be far too dramatic even for his tastes. Instead he nodded and let Geralt pull him from the bed. Of course, being the disaster that he was, he tripped and practically fell into the witcher’s arms. Geralt caught him but Jaskier hadn’t expected to be so close to the witcher. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as he glanced up at Geralt. Well… more across. Geralt really wasn’t that much taller than him despite his fearsome appearance.

They were close.

Too close.

Jaskier could feel the tickle of Geralt’s breath on his lips, that smokey musk mixed with leather and oil washing over him. He licked his lips, speechless for possibly only the fifth time in his entire life. For a moment he thought he saw Geralt’s eyes flicker down to his lips, but that couldn’t be right. That would just be an illusion, wishful thinking. He cleared his throat and patted Geralt on the shoulder.

“Alrighty! Thank you, Geralt,” he stammered and pushed away.

Gods, when had things become so difficult. They’d been friends for years and Jaskier had never been afraid of physical contact with Geralt before. Why couldn’t he just relax, be himself? He was going to ruin everything. Vesemir would never believe their performance if he kept acting like a scared rat, and Geralt would likely start becoming suspicious if he didn’t get a grip soon.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s eyes flashed up in surprise. Of all the reactions he’d expected from Geralt, an apology hadn’t been on the list. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re scared of me.”

Jaskier gaped, opening his mouth and closing it several times before letting out a long sigh. “No, I’m not.”

Geralt snorted. “I can smell it, Jaskier. There’s no point in lying to me.”

Jaskier swallowed. “And what else can your witcher senses pick up?” he asked. Okay, so maybe he was a little afraid, but not for the reasons that Geralt would think. If Geralt could smell fear, then it was only natural that he could smell other emotions, love for one, lust for another. Oh gods, how many times had Jaskier come back to camp after a moment alone to himself? He’d never even considered that Geralt could smell it on him.

“On you?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier would praise all the gods if he never had to hear that again. For once, he would just like Geralt to use his damn words! He was tired of trying to translate all the bloody grunts. Whilst he was unusually proficient in it, he was also a troubadour, a poet, a wordsmith. He took a deep breath, ready to give Geralt a piece of his mind when Geralt cut him off, pressing his palm to Jaskier’s lips. He huffed and glared at the witcher.

“Let me think, Jaskier,” Geralt said softly. Jaskier rolled his eyes and did the only rational thing he could think of. He licked Geralt. The witcher snarled and pulled his hand away. “Urgh!”

Jaskier cackled and put his hands on his hips. “Serves you right, darling.”

Geralt growled and shoved Jaskier lightly in the chest so he fell back onto the bed. “You stink of many things, bard.”

“Oh?”

“Lust mostly, bloody hell I’ve never known anyone to reek of arousal every fucking hour of the day,” Geralt grumbled but there was a fondness in his voice. Jaskier felt himself blush at the witcher’s words. He didn’t mention that his arousal around Geralt didn’t necessarily equate to feeling it all the time. That was a fun little fact for another time, possibly never. One to write into his songs perhaps. “and then something… sweeter.”

“Sweeter?” Jaskier asked, his heart beating faster than any percussion at Oxenfurt. There was still time to run right… maybe the trek down the mountain wouldn’t be as hard as the journey up.

“Not sure what it is,” Geralt admitted and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

Oh.

Jaskier’s relief didn’t last long at all. Geralt didn’t know what it was… because he’d never experienced it. Didn’t have the knowledge to put a name to it. He knew fear, and lust… probably anger too.

But he didn’t know love.

Jaskier wanted to kiss him. He wanted to worship him. He wanted Geralt to know how much he was loved, adored, but he was a coward; a fucking coward.

“Ah, right, well… I have no idea what that could be. New perfume perhaps?”

“Hmm,” Geralt answered, not sounding very convinced and Jaskier didn’t blame him.

“Shall we go?” Jaskier asked quickly, changing the subject before Geralt could press. “I am starving!”

Geralt led him through the stone corridors of Kaer Morhen, occasionally pointing out rooms that Jaskier might need to be able to find. He learnt that they were expecting two more witchers for the winter; Geralt’s family, Eskel and Lambert. He’d heard rumours that Lambert had made a friend on the road but, like Jaskier, he wouldn’t be allowed to winter with them unless they were in a relationship.

Jaskier scoffed haughtily. “You do realise that that is a stupid rule, right?”

“It protects us.”

“And you need protection from your friends? Is romance really that much stronger than friendship?” Jaskier muttered. It was bullshit, but he was a little smug that Geralt was prepared to break the rules for him.

Their friendship meant more to the witcher than he’d realised.

“Geralt, bard,” Vesemir greeted with a grunt, gesturing to the bowls of stew that didn’t look too dissimilar to the bowls of food that Geralt pulled together on the road. Jaskier was grateful for his years of acting training at Oxenfurt, because otherwise he would have pulled a terrible face that would have only offended Geralt’s father figure.

Instead, he swiped up his spoon with a cheerful smile and slid into the bench. Geralt silently moved to sit next to him and Jaskier, taking advantage of their situation, pressed a little closer than he would normally dare. Their thighs touched under the table and Jaskier felt a blush creep up on his face. He hooked his foot around Geralt’s, ignoring the startled look he received.

“Good evening,” Jaskier greeted with faux cheer “Oh this. This smells delicious, I can certainly see where Geralt’s gets his culinary skills from.”

Geralt almost choked on his food. Whilst Jaskier’s words sounded like a compliment, they both knew how much Jaskier had complained about Geralt’s cooking over the years. In fact, Jaskier had taken to bringing his own seasoning and herbs on their travels. Anything to save him from the bland never-ending stews of the road.

Vesemir smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Geralt has the culinary skills of a queen, bard.”

Jaskier flushed; rumbled. “Ah well, it does look rather similar.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Jaskier dropped his head, feeling sufficiently shamed. Only he would accidentally insult their hosts on the first days whilst trying to make a quick-witted joke at Geralt’s expense.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and ate a spoonful of his soup. The flavours exploded in his mouth and he moaned around his spoon. “Oh, dearest Melitele, this is good! My sincerest apologies, Vesemir. Lesson learnt.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Whilst their cooking skills were vastly different, Geralt and Vesemir’s conversational skills were apparently not so far apart.

“Oh, you have got to tell me how you made this, it’s bloody delicious! Not even the finest banquets in all the Continent can hold a candle to—”

“That’s enough now, bard,” Vesemir growled but there was mirth in his eyes.

Jaskier nodded and went back to his soup. Dinner was a quiet affair. Vesemir asked Geralt a few questions about life on the path, mostly professional curiosity from one witcher to another. Geralt’s answers were monosyllabic and boring, hardly a story to tell. Jaskier vowed to retell their adventures to the Kaer Morhen witchers over the winter. He would do them justice, and contrary to what Geralt thinks of his ballads, he would even tell the truth. They only needed a minor embellishment here and there. The winter would hopefully give him plenty of time to work on a new set. The time he’d normally spend teaching could be spent creating masterpieces, the likes of which the Continent had never seen before.

“Well, this has been very lovely, I thank you once again, my dear Vesemir, for the exquisite dining, but it’s been a long day and we really should be getting to sleep,” Jaskier announced with a flourish, giving Geralt a wink.

“Just remember, bard, that witchers have better hearing than you can even imagine,” Vesemir said with possibly the best poker face that Jaskier had ever seen. It was only the slight twinkle in his ancient eyes that gave away the joke.

Jaskier laughed and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “We’ll be sure to remember that, thank you.”

_________________

By the time they got back up to Geralt’s—no, their room—Jaskier was panicking. It had been an innocent joke on Vesemir’s part, a warning that privacy was not something they could expect. It was possibly even a plea to keep any sexual activities as quiet as possible and at reasonable hours of the day.

But…

Jaskier was panicking.

“Geralt?” he asked as he paced around the room.

Geralt was busy stripping off and getting ready for bed. Normally Jaskier would try to peek little glances, but he was too anxious. He didn’t have the luxury of ogling Geralt at that moment. They had a problem.

“Hmm?”

“Geralt, we have a problem.”

Geralt snorted. “We always have a problem, Jaskier, and normally you’re the one causing it.”

Jaskier gaped, his hands flying to his hips in a display of outrage. “Geralt! That is just rude! Mister-Let’s-Call-The-Law-of-Surprise-Even-After-We’ve-Just-Seen-How-Bad-It-Can-Be. You are rude and grumpy, and I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Geralt turned, giving Jaskier a rather lovely view of his bare torso, and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have been there at all if you could keep your dick in your pants.”

“Oh ho ho! No, no, no. You are not blaming that one on me.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Focus, Jask.”

Focus…

“Oh bollocks, yes, yes. Focus! Where was I?”

“You have a problem?” Geralt reminded him gently.

“We have a problem, darling. Witcher hearing,” he announced, his arms wide.

Geralt just stared at him blankly.

“They’ll know if we don’t… you know?” Jaskier hissed, but Vesemir’s words still rang in his head.

“So?”

“Oh come on, Geralt. That’s just not realistic! I assume you have at least mentioned me in passing over the years and the umm… well the trouble my umm… my habits can cause.”

“Fuck.”

“Precisely!”

#the witcher #geraskier #witcher #kaer morhen #kaer morons #eskel #lambert #vesemir #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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sharkboygirlish · 3 years

Text

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer: One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now. At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching.

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again.

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately.

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being.

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could.

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated.

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that.

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?”

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

* * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this.

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

* * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

#zona #zonami #zoro x nami #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zonalove #zoro x nami fanfic

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loverdrew · 3 years

Text

Just A Little Longer | s.r

(not my gif)

Synopsis: A day out on the field doesn’t go as planned, and Y/N is thrown into am ambulance to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital before anyone can help.

A Grey’s Anatomy x Criminal Minds crossover.

Warnings: none (?)

There was a ringing in the air louder than the one you hear everyday. I felt my breathing hinder. My eyes can only open so wide, enough to see the light, but once by my side, could see only a dark substance quickly oozing out of my body. As I came to, I could tell it was getting harder and harder to breathe, a sharp pain with every inhale and exhale. Upon instinct, I checked my fingers for mobility, feeling that they could move slightly. At least this means I am not paralyzed in my upper body. There was no other noise for a few more minutes, just a slight rustling of trees and the dirt road beneath me. I don’t even remember the initial shot being taken, whether it was from me or him. All I remember is instantly falling to the floor once I arrived on the scene. I just laid in my own blood, the realization that no one may be coming for me.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!” I could faintly hear from what felt like a mile away. My brain perked at the voice, definitively Morgan, but my body would not react. I tried with every might to move my limbs once again but alas, nothing. It was if my brain was screaming and sending pulses to my muscles but it just refused to move. I started to feel hands all over me, lifting me and placing me on what I could imagine was a gurney, as it moved. My sense of hearing coming in full force, beginning to hear people talking and shuffling. Hotch and Morgan were asking where I was being transported to and Emily and JJ consoling someone else who I could hear was practically sobbing.

“They’re going to take care of her, c’mon let’s just go follow them now!” Emily yelled to everyone. But that distressed someone fought back.

“No! She’s not even moving! They’re intubating her! Emily she’s dying!”

Spencer....?

“Reid, you want to help her? Get out of here and go to the hospital.” Hotch firmly said, I could even tell he probably put his hands on Reid, as the sound of prominent footsteps were halted. And the next thing I heard was doors closing, and the sirens blaring.

Once we had arrived at the hospital, I heard a woman’s voice that sounded very strong, like she was in charge.

“What do we got?” She asked.

“GW to the left ribcage, she’s lost a lot of blood, almost 2 pints. We’ve been intubating her since we got to the scene but Bailey, it doesn’t look too good. Possible head contusion when she hit the floor as well.” The EMT stated.

“Alright I’ll page Shepard and Hunt immediately. Out of the way everybody! FBI agent coming through!” And my gurney started moving even faster, winding down a short hallway into a room where I could hear many doctors coming to look at my wounds. I felt absolutely helpless, not being able to communicate what hurts for me. What if they miss something? What if they can’t help me in time? The EMT said I lost a lot of blood, what if it’s too much to come back from?

“Hang 2 units of O neg now!” A man with a deep voice yelled out. I could feel big, callus hands turning me on my back, and the next thing I knew a needle was being shoved in my arm and a warm sensation filling my arm.

“Owen she needs to go up to CT now or she’s not going to make it.” A woman with a softer voice spoke next to the man.

“Amelia she needs this wound patched first or she’ll bleed out and then she won’t even have a chance in CT.” He raised his voice at her, kind of like how Hotch can be sometimes.

“Let me see, I can patch quickly if everyone gives me space. Looks like the bullet left through the back as well.” This time it was another man with a softer voice than the first, and instantly felt his delicate hands holding onto my ribs, feeling a metal substance touching my skin. By my analysis, he’s most likely a plastics surgeon. Only a man in plastics has such delicate touch.

“Well hurry Jackson she’s got about 10 minutes before that brain contusion completely debilitates her and she’ll be in a coma.”

“Yea I got it.” He said nonchalant.

The sounds of beeping and shuffling were quickly interrupted by deep screams, of which belonged to the lanky pretty boy. My heart rate instantly got faster the second his voice entered the room.

“Sir, sir who are you?” The plastics guy asked urgently.

“I-I’m her, her uh- I’m just a friend, please let me be next to her.” He pleaded, rasp in his voice. I can tell he had been crying the whole ride over.

“Okay, sir you’re gonna have to wait with everybody else, she’s in a lot of distress and she’s lost a lot of blood. We’re doing everything we can for her.” Almost on cue, my heart monitor started spazzing. The loud beeping indicating I’m going into cardiac failure.

“She’s in V-fib, get the defibrillator now!” The man with the lower voice yelled. I felt the clothing on my body being ripped open, a few buttons popping and flying off. The patches were on and in a few seconds, I felt the shock and I could feel it vibrate every vessel inside me. They cleared a second a time, my heart rate returning to normal.

“Okay Jackson you’re gonna have to finish her later she needs a head scan now.” The women voiced, and immediately I could feel the gurney being whisked and into an elevator, going up to the CT room.

Being in the big machine and hearing the slight “ZZZ” sound felt like the first time of peace since my brain fully woke up. For a few hours now I was being poked and prodded, not even getting a chance to hear my own thoughts. This was the only time I got to really savor whatever life I had left, to really hear and feel the people I love around me, and to prepare for what could happen. It felt inevitable to try and escape death, it was a part of my job. And the one regret I’d have is not being the real me with the person I loved most in this world. That tall, pretty, incredible genius was the love of my life for the past 3 years I’ve been with the BAU, and he was everything and more I could’ve ever dreamed of and better. I could physically feel my heart aching at the way his voice cracked yelling for me. I wished nothing more than to look him straight in the eye and hold his hands, telling him I’ll be okay. The way he stuttered when he said friend, so unsure. We had kissed just a few days ago, after a long day of work he came by my hotel room and finally expressed his feelings after so long. The fireworks we shared were something out of a book. The way his hands fit around my face, holding me so close and so softly as if I were glass and he was afraid to break it. We hadn’t talked about it since, but we figured we had more time. But now I realize time is never guaranteed.

Within 30 minutes I was in a regular room, the plastics man working on sowing back up my wounds. “You, Ms.Y/N are one of the luckiest gunshot victims I’ve seen; no severe tears. Which means this just needs a quick stitch and you’ll be all set.” He said softly to me, I could feel a smile on his face as he spoke.

I heard another person walk into the room, footsteps almost so quiet.

“H-How, how is she Dr.?” He was shaking.

“The CT showed some swelling but no internal bleeding. We’re going to keep her here overnight but I’m sorry, I don’t know if and when she’ll wake up. That’s all up to her.” The women sadly spoke, unsure of even her own diagnosis.

I heard Spencer start to cry again, a loud puff coming from deep in his chest.

“Dr. Reid, could you please sit with me.” The two of them stepped to sit in the 2 seats next to my bed.

“I know what it feels like to be in a field of study where, you know everything there is to know. And I also know what it feels like to be completely out of control in that field, when you know what to do, but you can’t even do it.” She sighed. “I am one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, I know almost everything...but yet I had a brother who died of a brain injury. I could’ve been there to help him but I couldn’t do a damn thing. I know what this feels like.” Reid started crying harder, his cries muffled by his own hands. He was trying so hard not to let the sounds leak from the room, but it did and it made my bones stand still.

“I had a mentor who was in a coma, and even though I’m in plastics”- (told y’all) -”there was still nothing I could do for him. We just had to wait. He was one of my greatest friends, one of the best people you’d ever meet, so loved. The love of his life died in front of his eyes and I think most of us knew he’d be going next, to be with her. Life was too painful without her. Do you love this girl right here?” Spencers respond came almost immediately.

“More than anybody or anything.”

“Then wait, just a little longer. If she loves you like you love her she’s going to fight to wake up and be alive.” Both of the doctors walked out, leaving me and my lover boy.

His veiny hands grabbed onto mine, rubbing softly at my knuckles.

“I’m gonna do what he said, just wait a little longer. But please Y/N, if you can hear me, come back to me.” He cried into my hand, the tears coating it.

As if the Gods granted it themselves, I moved my eyelids open. Very slowly, and it hurt to do so, but they opened. Spencer sensed movement, and his head instantly came up holding on tighter to my hand. A weak smile placed on my face as my tired eyes loving locked with his.

“Waiting for me?”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine

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cocoadel549 · 3 years

Text

Hypnovember Day 2!

Welcome back! Thank you for all the wonderful comments and likes! I didn't believe it would be this well received but I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the first post. Without further ado, let's Drop right into it~ (See what I did there? Already got ya~❤)

Let's begin by once again taking a slow deep breath...

A nice primer, to tell my mind that it's time to go into trance again for Master

Today I want to build upon yesterday's theme of Focus, by exploring more reasons Why I want to Focus only on Master~

Feeling myself breathe nice and slow, calming and relaxing down

Knowing I can type easily and precisely even when deep in trance, I remind myself of this to Serve and Obey properly

Thinking back on all the messages and posts I've read from @pastelpendant , how They pulled me in and how good it felt

Fluttering about the pretty garden of such a beautiful Fae, where even simple conversations felt so warm, so friendly

Focus on that warmth, that feeling that even being in Their presence I could melt down deeper

And deeper still, even if no hypnotic words were spoken, even if we spoke about completely different things

I Focus more on that feeling, how safe I felt

Safe, that's an important word, I will come back to this word again

Relaxing deeper, feeling myself effortlessly slip down down and down still

That feeling of falling, of sinking into the depths of trance for my Owner where I belong and want to be

I slip deeper than before, falling faster every time, until it's as natural as breathing

Breathing for Master, sinking for Master, My perfect and fabulous Owner, the most beautiful Fae of all

I can sink down ten times deeper than last time, again with a simple countdown, from Ten to Zero

Starting with Ten, breathing and sinking

Imagining each number being said in Their voice

Nine, so natural to Sink and Obey

Eight, all that matters is Master

Feeling so Safe, right where I crave to be

Seven, deeper and deeper still

Six, I want to be so deep, I need to be deeper than ever before

I relinquish all my thoughts, all my worries

Five, I feel so good, so tingly as I relax deeper

Four, so happy to Obey, so Safe in Masters arms

I give all that I am to Master, I give Them my Heart

Three, I give Them my mind, I fall so so deep

Two, I give everything and then even more

I belong completely to my Master

One, I am ready to fall deep into hypnosis for Them

Zero, Drop~ Deeper than before

I am completely hypnotized for Master, I am ten times deeper than the day before

I sink deeper with every word I type, with every breath I take so easily

Focus again completely on Master, on why I serve them

Remember that word before, the word "Safe"

I am safe with Master, I am complete when I am with Them

Their voice, Their gentle touch, Their aura wraps around me and keeps me warm and Safe

Like a soft bed of flowers, able to sink deep so deep

To inhale Their aroma and relax, to melt and let go

I have been searching so long, wandering around for the right individual, the right entity

To confide my thoughts in, to find a place where I belong

A place that is Safe for me to be myself

I found so much more. I found that Safety, that comfort and peace of mind, the warmth I've been craving and needing so deeply deeper

I no longer need to search, I am home

I have found the safest place, the perfect Owner

Always remember these feelings, always Obey

Thank You so much, Master, Thank You for accepting me, for keeping me Safe

Safety is important, I will always remember this

I will carry all of these truths and feelings with me from now on

Even outside of this trance, that I can easily wake from on the count of Five

One last time, I will always remember the Safety Master brings to me, to my mind and my soul~

One, slowly waking, gently drifting back up

Two, rising higher, floating back up

Three, feeling so happy, so blissed

Four, waking easily and effortlessly on the next number

Remembering all that has been experienced today

Five! Awake alert and refreshed!

Oh my! That feels amazing~ Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed as much as I did~❤

See you back again for the next one, Stay Fabulous!

#text induction #long post #Pen is in control #Pen has perfect control #Hypnovember #hypnosis induction #self hypnosis

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

Our Souls Crave This Magic- Chapter Three

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Reader

Summary: All you want is a quiet year of university as you and your best friend, Edmund move to New York City. Though, that all changes when you meet the spoiled trust fund brat, Caspian. College au.

Warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers

Words: 2463

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me,all characters are 18+

A/N: Literally just realised how many side characters I’ll have to put in this bc Narnia characters don’t work hahaha! Also, I know that Caspian’s parents are dead, omg Nathaniel Parker is his dad but in this they’re alive and well! Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think, please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous chapter masterlist next part

Chapter Three - An Odd Companionship

You were in heaven, or at least you were as close to heaven as you were ever likely to get as your eyes roamed over all the Halloween themed snacks. There were things that you’d hardly even heard of such as, pumpkin spiced m&ms and chocolate with candy corn in the middle. You loved Halloween, when you were in university in London; you loved to decorate your dorm room, even though 9 times out of 10 you’d be going out to a party. It seemed that Halloween was an even bigger thing over here in America so you knew that you had to decorate your loft apartment.

Glancing behind you, you laughed at the bored look on Edmund’s face; he looked over at you and scowled as he pulled a tongue at you. Lucy, on the other hand looked as excited as you felt, “ooh, marshmallow Oreos,” she grinned and her face lit up, “I should send some over to Susan,” she took a packet off the shelf and threw it into the cart.

Edmund groaned in frustration as he covered his eyes as he trailed behind, “I get why we’re decorating the loft, it’s a tradition and the both of you are obsessed. But, do we really need to buy all of the snacks?”

Ed wasn’t a fan of Halloween. Lucy gasped in horror as she placed her hand over her heart, she was so dramatic, “how can you even say that? These snacks trump the ones in England!” she scoffed at him before wandering down the aisle, intent on grabbing more snacks.

Ed carelessly flung an arm around your shoulders and you smiled up at him, resting your head on his shoulder. Then, your best friend dropped a major bombshell, “Caspian is coming over to help us decorate,” you groaned in frustration, receiving stares from strangers but you didn’t care.

You pinched your temples as annoyance shot through every inch of your body. It was the worst news that you’d heard all day, “jesus, Ed! Why does he have to come over?”

Ed smirked as he looked at you without sympathy, “I think that you’re forgetting, Y/N, just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend.”

“He called me a slut,” you pouted as you both caught up with Lucy, you were still sore about that fact.

Ed huffed out a deep laugh, “actually, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t have to, Ed! It was implied.”

Edmund rolled his eyes and lowered his voice so Lucy wouldn’t hear the conversation you were both having, “okay, maybe it was implied but trust me, he didn’t mean it. I think he feels awful about it actually.”

You scoffed as you looked away, wrapping your arms around yourself, he should feel bad, Ed stopped you by placing his hands on your shoulders, worry etched into every corner of his freckled face, “Y/N,” he sighed, biting his lip and you knew that he was trying to find the right words, “please don’t lie to yourself and don’t pretend that you liked Caspian before all that happened. Don’t bring what your dad did into this, Caspian is not the same.”

Edmund’s eyes were so intense and worried that you had to look away, all of the Pevensie siblings were there for you when your dad betrayed your family. And for that, you felt eternally grateful. But, you didn’t want to talk about your dad.

“I can see that you really care about Caspian but I just don’t share your judgement but I suppose for you, I can tolerate him,” you smiled, “even though he is the most insufferable person that I’ve ever met, I hope you know that I would never ask you to choose between Caspian and I,” you would never make your best friend do that.

Edmund laughed as he cupped your cheek, “well that’s a good thing because I really like Caspian,” he smiled when you frowned at him and tilted your head, “you’re my best friend, Y/N, if I had to choose between you and Caspian, I would always choose you.”

You laughed bashfully as you rubbed the back of your neck; you weren’t used to people putting you first. Before you burst into tears like a total loser, you pulled Ed into a hug, inhaling the fresh scent of his aftershave.

Later on that day, you and Lucy entertained yourselves by working your way through some of the Halloween chocolate as you decorated the loft. It had been a long time coming but New York was finally beginning to feel like home. Presumably, Edmund was off somewhere sulking, he wasn’t getting involved with the whole decorating thing but you wanted to go all out. You knew that you’d probably be working on Halloween, but the beauty of college parties was the fact that they seemed to go on all night.

As you were adding fake cobwebs to the corners of the kitchen, there came a quiet knock on the door. Your blood ran cold and you scowled to yourself when Ed answered the door and you heard Caspian’s soft melodic voice. Despite yourself, you peered over your shoulder to look at the handsome man as he grinned at Ed and ran his hands through his thick hair. You were surprised when you noticed that he was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans. You were almost fooled into believing that he was just like everyone else, but you knew the truth.

“Hi, Caspian,” Lucy shouted joyfully and you narrowed your eyes at her as she pulled him into a hug. What a traitor.

“Hey, Lucy,” you could hear the smile in Caspian’s voice and you rolled your eyes, “how are you?”

“I’m good thank you, I’m going to go and decorate the bedrooms, are you alright, Y/N?” you glanced back at Lucy who shot you a meaningful glance as she walked away.

Caspian bit his lip and looked at you from beneath his thick eyelashes, and you noticed that he had the decency to look guilty, “want any help, Y/N?” he muttered and you sighed, remembering the promise that you’d made to Ed.

“Sure, Caspian. You’re on skeleton duty,” you gestured to the plastic bones by the door, “don’t mess it up,” you teased.

Caspian smirked and you had to look away, he was so blindingly handsome in that moment, not that you’d ever admit it, “I’ll try not to.”

The both of you somehow managed to work in harmony for a little while until Caspian halted his movements and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance at you. You almost felt the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“Y/N,” he started and when you looked over at him you were surprised to see that his deep brown eyes were soft and a crease was forming in the middle of his forehead, “I owe you an apology; I didn’t mean what I implied the other week. I was in a bad mood, lack of sleep you know.”

You grimaced, it was your fault that he hadn’t got any sleep that night, “right,” you flushed as he walked behind you to grab some tape, the warm spicy scent of his aftershave washing over you, “I’m sorry about that.”

Caspian shrugged, “I think I was jealous too.”

His confession shocked you so much that you gasped and almost toppled off the chair that you were standing on. How was he jealous? “Jealous?” you squeaked.

Caspian’s eyes widened as he realised how it sounded and you could tell that he was trying to backtrack, “I swear, not in the way you think, it’s just, it’s been a while,” he flushed and you found that it was pretty endearing.

A frown graced your features as surprise wracked through your body, you hated Caspian but you weren’t blind to his attractive looks and mild mannerisms. Most girls would fantasise about him, “seriously?” you raised an eyebrow, “no park avenue princesses’ have won you over?”

Caspian let out a deep laugh that would reduce most people to a puddle, “nope,” he smiled as he picked up a can of silly string, “although I’m flattered that you’re surprised, even if you don’t think much of me.”

Caspian’s voice was teasing but you still kind of felt guilty, if you were being truthful, it wasn’t all that personal because you hated everyone like him, it didn’t matter who they were. People who had too much money and not enough sense got on your nerves.

“Trust me, Caspian I have my reasons for not liking you.”

Caspian touched your elbow gently as he walked past you, “I wish you would tell me what they are, because I know that you’re hiding something, Y/N.”

You wouldn’t open yourself up to Caspian, no matter how many sweet smiles that he shot your way. There was no way that you were going to be allying with your enemy; Hell would have to freeze over first.

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A couple of weeks later, Caspian was sitting in the living room of Edmund’s loft apartment with his text book open on the coffee table. The words in the text book in front of Caspian seemed to swim before his tired eyes, the young man groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face as his head began to throb. He glanced over at Edmund who was fast asleep with his cheek sticking to the paper of his essay with his mouth agape. Caspian chuckled and looked over at the clock; it was a little past 2 in the morning.

Caspian was glad that Ed had suggested that they studied at his apartment, Caspian had had a row with his housemates, they were some of his closest friends but lately, they were pissing him off. Caspian stretched his tired muscles, he needed to finish this essay but they had run out of coffee a little over an hour ago. He stood from the couch, fully intent on grabbing some more coffee when he saw that Y/N’s bedroom light was still on and the door was slightly ajar.

Biting his lip, Caspian decided to ask her if she wanted anything, he’d feel bad if he didn’t at least ask. He swallowed and peeked his head through her open door and he was awe struck with what he saw. Y/N had her back to him and she was painting a beautiful landscape of a castle in ruins, surrounded by mountains and an ocean. It was so hauntingly beautiful.

“Y/N?” he called out softly and she jumped as she was startled and she whipped around to look at him.

“Caspian?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was going to go and grab some coffee, do you want anything?”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was surprised that he’d even ask, her eyes were downcast for a second as she fiddled with her fingers. Caspian had never seen such a look on her face before, it seemed that she was in fact, human, “would you mind it if I came with you?”

“Oh!” Caspian exclaimed, gobsmacked that she wanted to go with him but she looked a little upset, maybe she needed a break, “sure, Y/N. Of course.

Y/N smiled tightly at him as she grabbed her distressed leather jacket before following Caspian into the main part of the loft. As soon as she saw the state that Ed was in she giggled, shaking her head. Her laugh was a pretty sound when it wasn’t directed at Caspian’s expense, “someone couldn’t cut it, huh?”

Caspian laughed at the smirk on her pretty face as they walked out into the cold night together, it was an odd companionship, “did you need a break or something? That’s the only reason I can think of as to why you would actually spend time with me willingly,” he teased and Y/N laughed as she bumped her shoulder against his.

“I sure did need a break; my art assignment is really kicking my arse.”

Caspian bit his lip and decided to try his luck, “is that what you were painting. From where I was standing, it looked beautiful.”

Almost at once, Y/N tensed up and her face grew stoic which was a shame, “thank you but um, no that’s something else,” she ran a hand through her messy hair but she didn’t elaborate.

“What was it?” Caspian asked with interest, they were actually having an adult conversation and he didn’t want to stop now.

Y/N scoffed as she gave him the side eye, “nice try, keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

Caspian chuckled as he held up his hands in defence, “can’t blame a guy for trying.”

As they were walking down the dark high street, Caspian internally groaned they ran into a family friend who was leaving a bar, he was completely insufferable. Why the hell was he in a bar in Brooklyn? Michael smirked as he looked from Caspian to Y/N, if Y/N thought that Caspian was an arrogant trust fund baby then he was nothing compared to this guy.

“Hello, Caspian, you’re out late, it definitely looks like you’re slumming it but I never would have believed it,” his lip curled when he noticed Caspian’s NYU jumper and Caspian’s blood boiled in anger. Michael raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Y/N, “at least you’re slumming it with a pretty girl.”

Y/N let out an angry breath as she glared at Michael, “watch it, wanker.”

Michael grimaced, his blue eyes cold and lifeless, “interesting, a mouthy British girl,” he let out a nasty laugh as he patted Caspian’s shoulder. Caspian clenched his jaw, he so wanted to punch Michael in his smarmy face, “make sure you call your mom.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Caspian lowered his voice as Michael pushed past them.

She nodded but she looked angry, angrier than Caspian had ever seen here, “what an arsehole. How do you know him?” she gritted her teeth as she glared at Michael’s retreating back.

“Family friend unfortunately, I have to put up with him,” Caspian muttered, distracted when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he sighed in frustration when she saw it was a text from his mum. What the hell was she doing up at this time? Did she have eyes everywhere or something?

‘Just because you haven’t been in touch with me sweetie, doesn’t mean you can get out of the wedding at the end of November, I hope you haven’t forgotten. Evelyn says that she hasn’t heard from you in a while, sort it out, Caspian x’

Caspian scowled as he angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket, talking to Evelyn hadn’t been a part of the deal. Not yet anyway.

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@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @generalblizzarddreamer @blackbirddaredevil23 @whiskeywinter89 @graciehams

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