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anadiasmount · 26 days

Note

u and jude being in the same friend group and ur all together on a trip, though jude has been in love with you since day one and on the first night there u two sleep together, leaving u confused and wishing for more knowing things couldn’t be the same after the special night <3

no one knows - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: request above!

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa ��️: hii!! ik i said this would be posted sooner but i got sidetracked (what’s new… also don't hate me i didn't proof read...) ANYWAYS... this does contain small bit of smut so minors dni! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

the soft waves of the hammock you laid on rocked slowly as you stared out into the almost night sky. the different shades of orange now purple and blue, tiny star appearing in the distance, waves hitting the shore making the whole atmosphere just at peace. it was a king day of travel, having missed your first flight due to a delay on the train.

you had arrived last, but it didn’t matter because you were finally with your friends, wanting to make most of the trip you had planned. you changed into a knitted crème color swimsuit, loving how it fit and hugged your figure, accentuating your curves and pushing up your cleavage just right.

everyone inside was asleep, but you couldn’t go to sleep without wanting to watch the night fall. you loved the beach, the smell, the feel of sand, how your hair went to its natural state, and the feeling of freedom. you quickly got distracted by the click of the door opening, footsteps approaching where you were.

“hi,” you squeak as you see jude lean against the palm tree pole, shirtless and wearing similar shorts as your bathing suit. “you okay? you were the last to arrive and your here alone,” jude asked softly not being able to hold back the gulp at how dreamingly your body looked under this ray and light.

“i’m okay… just can’t sleep for some reason,” you stifle a small laugh, “plus i haven’t seen a view like this in so long, i just wanted too see it, i mean take a look.” jude obliged, looking around in a daze at how the night sky looked now. “yeah you’re right… i feel at ease,” jude nodded.

“how come you’re still up? is everything okay with you?” you sat up, propping your elbow and the back of your hand resting on your temple, your full attention on jude. you couldn’t deny but feel a tad bit confused he was here. jude never really spoke to you an when he did it was short and simple. so you wouldn’t be surprised if he made small talk and left.

“jet leg i guess? you’d think after all the constant travel i’d be used to it but it’s always difficult to fall asleep after a long flight for me,” jude explained taking a seat on the wood chair that was by the balcony. you hummed in response, your hand dragging up from your thigh to your hip letting it rest.

you sensed he wanted to tell you more, his fingers tapping against his massive and toned thighs, his eyes adverting from you to the sea. jude wasn’t shy, quite the opposite, and he knew in this moment it was now or never. “do i make you nervous?” you ask slyly, standing and walking over to him. you hated feeling awkward and left out around him, and you needed to know the reason behind it.

jude was a complete different person in his games, in public, around your friends, yet, he treats you so differently which threw you off the edge. jude roamed your eyes from your tanned shiny legs, your curved torso and bust, his heart stammering against his chest as you looked so willingly and utterly beautiful. “or do you just hate me?”

“hate you? why would i hate you?”

“don’t know… you tell me. it’s like this every time we’re around each other. the tension? you can’t even look into my face? you barely speak a word to me? if i’ve done something to offend you, let me know so i can apologize,” you spoke dearly, following his exact movements by roaming your eyes on his figure. legs spread out begging to be touch, abs defined, with veins adorning his arms. jude was fucked, all he could think about was you in this damn bathing suit and the silly theory you made in your head.

hate you? that’s impossible.

“what if i told you it was the opposite? what if i told you i’m infatuated by you?” jude looked up, standing and over towering you, your gaze shifted from confident to shy. your eyes lowering as jude looked down at you. “that when i’m around you all i can think about is you. how you look, smile, talk and walk, smell… it’s so infuriating to be this madly in love with you and not being able to do a thing about it…” jude confessed, drawing the air out of your lungs, like the wind that breezed the night sea.

“i feel like you’re lying to me…” you couldn’t help but say. a hesitance of insecurity, and that’s there’s absolutely no way this man was in love or was confessing any sort of feelings when actions proved otherwise. “why would i lie to you hm? i’m being completely truthful here y/n,” god the way he said your name had you trembling your knees. “you can’t be jude. we’re so different-”

“that’s what you think, and it’s all in your head. tell me this second you don’t feel it? the magnitude sensation for me to approach you? i can see it in your pretty face darling. now it’s you who can’t even look at me? or yet talk,” jude inches closer to you, seeing your chest rapidly raise up and down.

“you’re everything to me… i’ve had to resist myself because i have no idea if you feel the same way. i’d rather love you from a distance than be embarrassed and you not liking me back…” jude traced with his fingertips along your forearm. “don’t you see it? everything i’ve done it’s because of you… i wouldn’t be here if you weren’t y/n. i just want you…” his pleading and vulnerability in his voice had you gulping a response.

“let me show it to you hm? how you make me feel… how you deserved to be treated,” you nodded feeling the heat rise in you. the familiar desire to be wanted, appreciated, touched by a man like jude. “please jude…” you said in a small whimper, looking up where jude had a hungry gazed, lips slightly open. “show me-”

you remembered how cool the wall was when he hit your back against it, kissing you deeply, so messy and hot. how his hands traveled from your side and around your spine, gripping your ass as he ran his tongue down from your jaw and pulse point. you could feel everything, how big jude was, how hot his skin was to your touch, how desperate the need was.

he had dragged you to his room, his lips never leaving yours any second. it was so vivid in your head, how your back pressed against his chest, how his fingers slowly traced your abdomen down to inside your bottoms, his fingers covered by you slick coat, adding the bit-test of pressure on you clit rubbing it in small circles. all you could focus on was the determination and how hot he looked like this.

jude untied the bows from your bottoms, freeing you completely. he felt like he would die any second, this was real and no turning back. he could’ve watched you all night like this. so sensitive with the smallest touch.the familiar burn in your tummy when he sunk into you with a forceful thrust, hips curling and rocking to pleasure waves of emotions, the heat between your legs as he talked you through it all. the flicker in his eyes when you moaned and begged his name, how your nails scratched against his back asking for more and more.

“you belong to me… don’t you forget that y/n…” he kissed you sloppy, pushing one last thrust and spilling into you. it wasn’t just one round, he made sure to take you against the wall, balcony, shower, and the small couch in his room, in many positions too. he wanted to savor the moment like he imagined. this was way better than his dreams and thoughts in his head. you were so tight, so wet, very much made exactly for him.

the heavy weight on top you made you wake up early. you were used to waking up this early, but not with a hot body on top of you. with one eye barely open you looked at the digital clock, showing just before 7am, the whole house quiet. you looked around before your eyes landed on a sleepy jude, tucked between your arm and head nuzzled into your neck.

your heart raced, not being able to control your confused and guilty emotions. last night was real then? not a sick dream in your head or a movie, it had happened here in his room. “oh shit…” you whispered, chest sinking down as your controlled your breathing. you had to get out, feeling a tad stuck and rushed in space. this wasn’t supposed to happen… even though it felt so right. so meant to be.

you had managed to sneak jude to his back without waking him up. his lips pursed and brown drawn in, breathing heavy. you changed quickly back to your bikini, leaving the room how you had remembered. you ran a hand against your hair, the need to throw water in your face to cool the warmth in your cheeks. you weren’t used to this. you never did one night stands or had friends with benefits relationships. if that’s even what it was.

you couldn’t help but think maybe jude was lying to just get into your pants. you had seen how jude was like when around other woman. but you weren’t other woman. you we’re y/n. the shy but outgoing, smart but naive, and overly patient y/n. you didn’t want it be like them, or seen like them either. all you could think of was him. his brown eyes and stupid gentlemen demeanor.

you avoided him anywhere he was or walked in. the only way you could escape and let go of things was this. you weren’t used to this and didn’t have much experience so you did what you were best at which was ignore jude. but even your friends had noticed you were off and that there was a glow to you. drawing attention from everyone and the person who caused it all.

a small part of you did have a twinge of faith… what if he wasn’t lying? what if everything he proved to you last night was exactly how he felt? what if he was madly in love with you? that you were the woman of his dreams? that it wasn’t just sex and there was raw emotions included?

the ghost feeling against your back made you shiver, realizing it was jude who stood behind you, locking you with both arms extending out to cage you in as you cut up fruit. “you left me this morning,” jude spoke into your ear, feeling your weight shift from one foot to another. “i didn’t want anyone to catch us,” you say shaky, making up a lie knowing part of it was true.

“you’re lying to me…”

“am not. let me go… i-i-i need to bring this outside.”

“you are darling, you think i didn’t notice? you can’t even look at me without talking to me, and you’ve ignored me the whole day thinking i haven’t realized that,” jude let you go but followed behind you speaking a little louder. “lower your voice! i haven’t said anything to anyone!” you hiss, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the pool room. “what is it you want from me?” you say pleading.

“i want you! i thought i made that clear last night. not just with sex, but with my confession? before we fell asleep? don’t tell me you forgot that,” you shook your head. “i’m just having trouble to process all this, jude… i feel like we’re making a huge mistake…”

“to whom? to our friends? or to you?” jude asked sincerely. you always seemed to put them first over yourself and jude noticed that. “why would it be a mistake? if at the end of the day what we have is real…”

“jude it’s been one night together between us! look at us now! i can’t risk our group falling if we don’t work out jude! it’s not fair to them, to me and you!” you tried to reason but jude shook his head. he stood up from where he leaned, his broad frame over towering yours again.

“why are you so adamant we won’t work? we’ve barely been given a shot here! you’re overthinking it y/n. they don’t have to know a single thing pretty girl, not unless you don’t want them too.but for once think of what you want and your heart desires. not what your friends say. forget them and for once think about yourself,” jude spoke, grabbing your hands.

“i want us to work more than anything y/n. i’m not lying to you and have never gave you the reason either. i’m a good man y/n. just let me in here,” he poked your heart, seeing a sad smile appear on your face. “we can’t be so quick to judge without even trying! why is it so hard to do that? i just want to be with you, i’ve suffered enough as it is already,” jude was pleading, wanting to do anything to keep you here with him.

“and if we do and i lose you jude? people have walked in and straight out of my life. what if we try and it’s going so well just for us to part? i can’t handle losing someone else i love,” you whimper, tears of exhaustion and pain let out. “imagine me now and then? i’ve always thought what’s best for myself and i’m just confused jude… why me?” your voice sounded strained and from another dimension.

“why not you? you’re perfect y/n. anyone who thinks other wise must have been dropped into their head. you have everything that makes me so drawn to you… your eyes… your smile… your way of being… your hair… your everything. you’re everything i want and i’m willing to prove that to you however you ask. just let me be the man you need pretty girl…” jude rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your jaw as you began to fall deeper into this new wave and world with him.

“no one knows. just me and you jude,” you kissed him feverently. the aching burn in your chest as he kissed you with such devotion and power. you shivered beneath him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulled him closer. jude let out a small groan gripping your hips and pushing you to his lower body. there was no self-control here, no professionalism. he quickly became your favorite taste, and feeling. just two humans brought together in the most correct and soulmate way.

two humans who had no idea what was ahead of them.

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham smut

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veryberryjelly · 4 months

Text

coping mechanisms

spencer reid x fem!reader ( platonic or romantic x )

prompt : one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

i made a playlist specifically for this concept which you should definitely check out -> here <-

the jet was quiet aside from the peaceful rumbling of the plane's engine lulling everyone to sleep.

emily and derek were both fast asleep propped up in the chairs in the centre of the plane.

jj was sat next to the brunette skimming over case files while hotch and rossi were having a quiet discussion at the other end of the plane.

which left you and spencer sat next to eachother, with an earphone in each of your ears while some music played through them.

after cases the plane tended to get quiet and you could never stand it, so very early on in your bau career, you had made a playlist specifically for the plane ride back to virginia.

nothing too loud or happy as you weren't always in the best mood, everything soft and calming and just comforting.

after a particularly rough case a few years ago, everyone on the jet had been on edge and just quite melancholy since you left the police station.

and sat across from you, spencer looked the most out of it.

he's features looked sunken from the days without sleep poured over this case, yet his eyes were wide open. unable to fall asleep.

while he usually read on the plane, his book was discarded next to him on the couch.

you couldnt look at it anymore.

so you pushed yourself up from your place on the opposite couch and sat yourself next to him.

you offered him an earbud silently, not wanting to disturb anyone else on the plane.

when he hesitated, you explained.

" sitting here reliving it isn't going to help anything. it helps stop my mind wandering if i'm listening to something. " you said quietly, your other earbud still in your hand for him to take.

" thanks " was the soft response from him as he took it and settled it in his ear.

I can't forget that night, You said I looked like Suzi Quatro

In the morning light, faded to oblivion.

And I said, "That's alright, at least we feel alive"

At least we feel alive

There's nothing you can do

I know that I want this

No one likes to lose

Know that I got this.

the sultry tones of suki waterhouse banished almost all the thoughts of the last few days from his mind and instead he was focused on the sounds flowing through your earbud.

since then, it had become almost a tradition on the jet home.

one earbud each and a couch shared between you.

sometimes the two of you would talk while it played, other times you'd both be reading or even filling out paperwork.

but always on the plane home, you would listen to music together.

to the point where you would always just gravitate towards eachother on the jet as everyone made their way in. and everyone knew, not to block any way for the two of you to sit together.

everyone had their coping mechanisms for after cases, and they couldnt deny either of you yours.

especially considering it was such a healthy one.

this case had been a rough one though. you hadn't been able to save the unsub or his last victim and being right infront of him when he died just made it a lot more real.

his blood stained your shirt, and your skin.

it was spencer who helped you wash it off when you were a bit too dazed to move.

you sat closer than usual on the jet, the outside of your legs pressed against each others as the jet flew over a state you couldn't pinpoint.

after not sleeping for three days, you couldn't physically keep your eyes open. your eyes fell shut as the sound of the cranberries flooded your ear.

your head dropped onto the nearest surface, which happened to be spencer's shoulder to your left.

while you could feel your mind slipping off into unconsciousness, you felt the surface you had rested your head on almost flinch.

you lifted your head up, prying your eyes open as you realised what you had done.

" sorry, i haven't slept the last couple days. didn't mean to use you as a pillow " you apologised, lifting your hand to wipe under your eyes, attempting to wake yourself up a bit so it didn't happen again.

" no no, it's okay. just startled me " he replied. while his tone was still quiet, his voice was quiet.

" you're not usually so jumpy " you observed.

" didnt sleep too well either. " he admitted

" why don't you get some sleep ? it's gonna be a while until we get back to quantico "

he pondered it for a few minutes before ultimately shaking his head and muttering a quiet ' i'm good '

you knew why he didnt want to sleep. it was the same reason you didnt sleep after a particularly tough case for spencer.

to make sure he was okay. protect him.

" you can sleep, spence. i'm fine " you punctuated your point by dropping your hand down onto his thigh in a light pat.

" i will if you will "

with that promise, you settled your head down against his shoulder again, his head taking moments to rest ontop of yours.

the comforting words of delores o'riordan comforting the two of you as you drifted off into a comfortable and safe slumber.

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Do you have to let it linger?

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yndrgrl · 10 months

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Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

#aizawa x y/n #anime and manga #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa headcanons #aizawa x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #aizawa imagine #aizawa smut #mha au #mha #bnha #yandere aizawa #yandere mha

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chosoclub · 1 month

Text

Art by nada_ge

Playlist based off of this work → here

CONSPECTUS: Suguru Geto is transfixed by you and he would eliminate anything that stands in the way of you and him. TAGS: MDNI! ° wc 3k ° dark content ° stalking ° cannibalistic idioms ° masturbation ° afab!reader ° cunnilingus (f!receiving) ° penetration ° fingering ° incel!suguru LMAO ° no y/n mention

SUTPHIN BLVD ⋆ SUGURU GETO&READER

The word soulmate has been churned and spit out with no vindication; Stellar collisions seldom occur frequently, and when two white dwarfs spin into each other, their mass instability can conceive a supernova so strong, that the dwarfs’ obsolete mass is thwarted into the galaxy. Yet, this word, soulmate, an event that is meant to encapsulate a feeling so obsessive, so thrusting and strong has been diluted to nothing but a mere expression of love.

When Suguru first saw you, neon and glowing, he empathized with the supernova. Partially from the alcohol that flowed up to his irises, partially from the way you dress hugged the concaves of your waist and thighs, he felt his vision vignette with you in the center. Your eyes sparkled like dew-misted grass, the words that came out of your lips blurry when they hit his ears,

“I said, I love this song! What’s it called?” You repeated after his second consecutive huh?

The music boomed through his headphones, making his head spin, and the motor functions flow out of his fingertips when spinning a knob to reverb to the next track.

“Techno? It sounds sick!” You yell over the crowd when he responds, your voice maintains a soft and silky tone even when you’re hollering.

The music in his ears ceases immediately when he rips the headphones off his head, “Take over for me,” body towards his partner, eyes still on you, watching you begin to dance and blend back into the crowd. The other grabs his headphones.

The feeling takes over him like ebony ink, swirling through his arteries until it fills him up from head to toe and he feels overtaken by the overwhelmingly obsessive jet black: Her.

At the end of the night, Suguru has you propped against the brick wall of the bathroom, a hand under your dress, kneading at your breast as you softly moan against his mouth. Your lips are glistening with spit, the plump coral splitting to moan his name in the blur of the club music. He sucks at your neck, the tension between his lips and your skin bleeding a red, purple, blue he laps his tongue over before moving lower to create another masterpiece on the skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” He slurs against your bare stomach, placing a kiss on the surface before bracing your legs on his shoulders and laving the entrance of your pussy. His warm tongue against your flesh contrasts the cold wall against your back as you groan his name against the brick. You can feel every ridge that protrudes his tongue as he flicks it in between the currents of your pussy. Suguru wants desperately to twist his tongue until you’re crumbling against him like putty, spinning you at his will until there’s nothing left.

The bass of the music feels even more intense when you’re so close to your orgasm and when his acute movements quicken, you have to grip at his long raven locks to keep conscious.

This routine develops over the next few months, and Suguru and his tongue become a presence you see more often. His arm leaning against the door frame when you swing the door open, the two of you both in agreement on terms he’s there for. He’d stay to chat, slowly unfolding you at the palm of his hand, learning more, understanding more about you, and then eventually in the night, fucking the daylights out of you. To you, he modulates into a friend who’s pretty good at making you feel good. One night, he’s sitting on the edge of the couch, arm on the cherry brown armrest, the other stretched against the back cushions and hovering over your head. His eyes have a warm crease to them.

“I like having you around,” you turn to him, smiling. The arm by your neck shifts so that he can rest his temple against his knuckles.

“Yeah? I’m not surprised.”

“Jesus, no, not like that,” pausing, “yes, like that, but also as someone to talk to.”

He smiles, eventually unable to help the toothy grin against his right palm. You lean to slide your tongue in between his teeth. He takes you in, arms shifting to each other’s hair, tongue sliding against the soft part of your cheek.

“I could say the same about you,” he groans against your lips. You tug lightly at his long, black hair, moaning softly when you feel the tip of his shaft poking your thigh. He slides down the couch to let you fully lay atop him and feel the girth of his dick. To Suguru, you begin to overtake every part of his brain. He can’t help but think of you at all hours of the day until the image of you is a constant in his brain, and the thought of you splitting to run to some derivative of him tightens his chest, the black inkling rising to his head until the only thing that can bring him back to Earth is the vision you opening the front door and welcoming him in. When he catches you gazing down at him, gluttonous on your core like licking a bloomed orchid in the spring, the thought of someone else having you at their will like this, eyes glossed over, chest heaving, has him digging his nails into the silk flesh of your thighs until the marks flush bright red slits.

You’re so fucking perfect, Suguru hovers over your lips, his velvet fingers swirling the nectar between your legs, streaks spilling out onto his knuckles. He couldn’t imagine someone else making you feel as good as he does.

Even when he’s not with you, a day off from work, he's stretched on the couch, one hand pawing at his dick, the other swiping through the collection of you – one sleeping soundly on his arm, one through the blinds of you leaning close to the mirror, mouth slightly agape, hand mid-brushing an ebony wand through your lashes, taken minutes before he knocked on your front door. All are unique in their setting, all similar of you unknowing.

Suguru pictures your velvet flesh, the gravitational pull in the way you lean against him, thrust against him, heave against him. He wonders what it would be like to devour you whole, too pretty too chew, too delicious to consume you only with his eyes. He thinks of your ruby-fresh blood, the way it percolates against your skin when he leaves hickeys all over your chest – wondering if he could bite hard enough to get a taste of the rouge, even picturing your eyes widening in surprise and possibly fear at the sudden action. Regardless, he wonders what it tastes like, expectantly sweet or bitter. He sighs at the thought, feeling his vision blur at the abrupt surge of a climax.

The next day, when the words, I think I met someone spill from your lips, a soft smile as you look at him expectantly for him to grin back, flash his pearly canines like he always does when you lean close to him on the couch, he only narrows his eyes.

“Who?”

“I don’t think you’d know him but I met him while I was out the other night,” your smile is sticking to your cheeks without you realizing it and Suguru despises it, at least when it’s for another man. He can feel his heart beginning to thunder in his ribcage and his blood speed through his veins until they’re protruding out of his skin.

This felt like a double entendre, one side to tell Suguru as a supposed friend, and the other, a shadow that grows along the room, to say it’s probably in due time we stop seeing each other sexually, but you can still stick around and listen to the new man I’ve been fucking, and Suguru was convinced he despised that even more. The jet-black feels like it’s overtaking every hair on his body, rage bubbling from his core until all he can do to suppress it all is slightly tighten his jaw.

“Shit, well, that’s great – I’d love to meet him sometime.” He thinks your smile is cruel; a pinnacle of some sort of game you’ve entered with yourself to make him feel like shit after all these months. He has to count his breaths to not offset the rhythm of you two. He gazes into your unfazed composure, the vignette growing until the innocent facade begins to slip away until all that’s left of you is skeletal and infuriating. He can’t help but hate you for this.

He thinks of this someone from the other night, wondering if he’d already been over and sat in the same place Suguru sits. If he’d been inside you already. How it went. What it felt like. He can’t help the way he quietly scowls towards the floor, rageful at someone and rageful at you.

He leaves your place that afternoon with a permanent narrow in his eyes, but the next night, he’s mapping the steps back to your place. Sutphin Boulevard, he murmurs to himself. He adores how idiotically you leave the blinds unfolded at night for anyone to walk by and peek into life inside. A sweet sigh of relief when he sees you alone cuddled on the couch, phone slipping from your numb hand, eyes closed and resting with the TV blaring.

He tsks disappointingly at how easy it is for someone to peer inside and watch you sleep. Hypnotic, his thoughts and the way he wants to pick you up and nestle you deep where you can rest forever, unbothered by anyone else but him. Suguru stands there a while, the street empty so late at night, watching and picturing you waking up with him above you flashing an impish smile; Once again his desires shift to see fear in your eyes at how easily he managed to get inside. He’d shake his head, a thumb sliding across your jaw, the other four fingers pressing down on the purple veins of your neck. He wondered if you’d hide from him, ghost him for a while; not answer texts or calls until he’d have no choice but to slip back inside your life. Found ya, sweetheart.

Things didn’t seem to be running smoothly for you and your new man, you find solace and trust in Suguru. You invite him out to the park nearby, the secluded lake that welcomes a pink and yellow sunset as you rant to Suguru about your new love life.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t been reaching out to me if I don't text first,” you say, “that sucks, doesn’t it?”

“You want someone to make an effort for you.”

This causes the blood pumping through Suguru’s chest to pump faster. This asshole doesn’t even know what he has in his hands, he thinks, fists suddenly tight as iron. The thought of you in pain, shedding a tear over this man has him feeling hot; He’s already flipping through scenario after scenario to seek out revenge for your hurt.

“Right.”

“You’re worth the effort.”

Your smile softens Suguru’s grip on the wooden bench. It’s different this time, full of genuine, sticky-sweet honey the way it glows like the sunset.

He couldn’t imagine you leaving; the possibility has him in shambles, that you would consider someone else in the first place has his heart sinking to his stomach. Suguru was so enamored with you he forgot about you seeking someone other than him – He couldn’t let you stagger away. The walks to your place became more frequent and the likelihood of him knocking to come inside dwindled. By this point, he’s convinced he’s in love, the only words that ring between his ears when you smile at him: soulmate. He grips his fists, nails digging into his palms with a sting. He feels like crying but physically can’t muster the tears and is thus stuck with a bitter scowl on his face and an anvil over his chest. He feels like he’s forgotten life before you and can’t picture a future without you in it.

Weeks later, it’s I think he’s ghosting me all the way down. He has to turn away from you to roll his eyes when you tell him, watching your tear ducts well up with tears as he turns his head. He hugs you tight, wanting your heartbeat to feel his in tandem. Then suggests getting your mind off that dickhead, sweet smile that facades his intentions. You sniffle against his chest, wet tears coating his neck when you nod. Suguru digs his hand into your hips, propping you against the wall and ramming into you until his name is the only one you think of and the only one you moan.

For the first time since you met him, Suguru doesn’t spend the night. You watch him hazily as he rubs a thumb against your damp cheek. He gives your face an affectionate tap.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll see you soon alright?” Then he adds, “I want to stay, but I can’t right now.” And all you can do is nod.

“It’s okay, Suguru, I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He spends the night rummaging through your social media to find any face that’s close to the one you’ve described and cried over. He’s on one of your Facebook posts, mouse hovering over the tag of a man, focus blurred from your shaky hand that took the selfie in a clear drunken state. But, when Suguru clicks on his profile, he has a clear spreadsheet of the man before him; his place of work, his habits, his education. He chuckles at how easy this man is to find; Suguru has already mapped out his schedule in his head. He’s completely submerged in adoration for you, the thought of another man hurting you is catastrophic to him just as much as you leaving him by choice.

He spends the next few days simply thinking. He doesn’t reach out much. He only sits at his desk and fantasizes. A punch to the gut, a punch to the nose to watch the blood spew out in droplets. A bat to the torso. A knife to the trunk to watch the rouge flow. All for you. Any of it, for you.

He’s planned it perfectly as days turn to weeks; He’s learned this other man’s entire day-to-day. Most likely wakes up at six, takes the subway from Sutphin across to Manhattan, stays at his desk job until seven, lingers around the Manhattan bars until late, and takes the subway back, he’s back in Sutphin by three in the morning, where the raven awaits.

When the silver doors slide open in the subway, Suguru bumps his shoulder against the other when he steps out onto the concrete.

“Fuck, sorry man. Hey, you know if I catch a cab from here?” He fake slurs. The other's eyes are bloodshot but they narrow in annoyance. “I don’t live around here, I gotta get back before my girl gets worried.”

There’s only a handful of others who are already gone by the time the other says, “I don’t think cabs are running right now, you need a ride?”

Great, Suguru thinks, an asshole and a reckless driver.

“Yeah, man, let’s get out from here, making ‘ma head ring.”

The two men stumble above ground, isolated in the night. The contents inside Suguru’s backpack shuffle as he fakes his best-drunk walk.

“Hold on, man. I gotta throw up.” The other stumbles into the alleyway that overlooks the park like a pawn piece that slides right into the path of the queen. Suguru can’t help the grin that takes over his face.

“Yeah, no worries.” He hovers behind the other, and when the asshole is hunched over vomiting over his shoes, Suguru lifts his leg to collide against the other’s backside, sending him hurling forward over the concrete.

Before he has the chance to finish his holler, Suguru is on top of him, punching at his nose, unnoticing his knuckles that ache instead relishes in the ruby red that glistens across the digits when he lands another blow. Sounds of crack! echo through the darkened alleyway and Suguru decides it still isn’t enough. The only thought in his mind is you, you when he retracts his bloodied hand, you when he gazes at the man below him, eyes barely keeping conscious, jaw unhinging to let out a gut-wrenching scream – You when Suguru reaches for his shiv, you when the stab retaliates blood across his cheek. The gush of blood spills onto the concrete, filling the ridges of the pavement and catching the moonlight as Suguru stands to snap gloves over his already bloodied hands. The blood leaves a trail when he drags it along the alley, a heavy and loud splash when he hurls the man's existence into the void of the lake.

The body sends soft waves across the surface that Suguru stands to watch until their flow eases. He sighs, then grins and lifts the back of his hand to smear the stranger’s blood that lays across his cheek. As he’s walking back around the block, reaching your place, he smiles again when he sees you forgot to turn your light off.

AN. Get you a man that would kill for you

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hgejfmw-hgejhsf · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday, my loves! I haven't been as interactive today because I've been wildly busy packing and preparing to jet off on an adventure this weekend to try to meet that dude in the lovely banner that @indestructibleheart made for me. Asking kindly for all the prayers, good wishes, vibes, and manifestations you possibly can for me and for @thinkof-england as we try and make our literal dreams come true on Saturday. But I promise I will get to reading y'all's lovely words as soon as I'm able! I'm not done screaming at y'all! Not ever!

I want to thank the following incredible humans for the tags today: @adreamareads @duchessdepolignaca03 @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead @england-would-fall @onthewaytosomewhere @captainjunglegym @magicandarchery @priincebutt @cha-melodius @songliili @getmehighonmagic @ninzied @wordsofhoneydew @itsmaybitheway @sparklepocalypse and @leaves-of-laurelin. Don't I have an amazing support system?! Look at all these people! I love each and every one of y'all.

As I said earlier, I haven't had much time this week, so I'm gonna peruse through At the end of a bar, chapter 4 for a little longer-than-normal snippet, I do believe.

It’s typical small talk for the majority of the meal, with Pez moaning wantonly after each bite and lamenting their mutual inability to cook anything more than toast, pointedly and loudly saying if I had someone around to make me fat and happy, I’d never leave bed with a wink at Henry, who’s silently wishing that the earth might open and swallow him whole. Alex is the one who politely - and with a hint of color in his cheeks that has Henry wanting to commission a painting dedicated to finding the precise shade of pink and giving it a name - redirects the conversation to how the two best mates came to meet. While Pez delivers a soliloquy to rival even the most animated of actors, complete with sweeping hand gestures and too-long pauses for dramatic effect, Henry watches Alex. Brown eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity, he leans forward with his chin in his hand, one elbow propped on the tabletop, and Henry’s stomach swoops at the sight. It certainly is not made any more tolerable by the presence of Alex’s foot, gently rubbing up and down Henry’s ankle beneath the table. Or Alex’s foot dragging up Henry’s leg, until he’s pressing against the inside of Henry’s knee. Or Alex’s foot pressing forward between Henry’s spread legs to rub against his– “Right,” Henry says, wincing at the sound of his chair scraping against the dining room floor. "I’m just going to take a quick shower.”

Still got some folks who I haven't seen go yet today, so tagging them behind the cut! And as always, an open tag for anyone else who wants it! Share your words with me and the world!

@affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @barbiediaz @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @guillermosfamiliar @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @mulderscully @nocoastposts @notspecialbabe @rockyroadkylers @ships-to-sail @sophie1973 @ssmtskw @stereopticons @theprinceandagcd @typicalopposite @user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @zwiazdziarka

#wip wednesday #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #my fics #my wips #my writing #wip: at the end of a bar

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m-ayo-o · 10 months

Text

petal

You've been missing him so bad 18+ explicit sex wc 470

You suddenly feel a familiar presence in your bedroom. He's home.

It's late, you've already been sleeping, but you can tell from one look that your husband needs you tonight. His stern and serious exterior has faded as you bring Byakuya in close, resting his head on your chest as he kneels in front of you.

Few words are exchanged as you remove his uniform. He finally relinquishes his Zanpakutō, a weight lifting from his body.

You bathe together and wash his beautiful, jet black hair, massaging him, using basic healing techniques on the few minor injuries he sustained.

You return to bed and hear his voice, deep and soft, "Petal," his slender hand holds yours as you lay down, "can you stay awake any longer?"

You nod, giving him a sweet smile as he places chaste kisses over your fingers. You've been waiting for each other for too long now, you don't need sleep. You don't need anything. Just him.

"Let me hold you," he murmurs and lays down, bringing you in so close all you can feel is him.

Byakuya whispers sweet words and kisses you gently until you're wrapped around him, feeling his growing erection.

You sigh and moan into his deep kisses until he's propped up over you telling you, "Lay still, Petal, I need you," pushing himself gently inside your warm walls.

He takes it slow, his narrow eyes fixed on your beautiful face contorting with pleasure.

He gives you more than you can take, pushing you over the edge in minutes as you muffle your sweet moans on his broad, pale chest.

"Honey I, I–" you whimper against him, holding onto his shoulders.

"I know, I know, just a little more, ok?" He strokes your hair and kisses you gently, looking down at the creamy ring around his cock.

He praises you and fucks you so deep and slow. God, you've missed this. You feel his hand on your leg, pushing you up to get all the way back, his dick massaging all the right spots.

"B-byakua–" your voice is shaky, you can't take it. He can tell another intense orgasm is building inside you.

"It's ok, Petal, let go," he murmurs and rocks his hips so smoothly as you release over him again, your body bending up beautifully.

His thrusts get rough, the telltale sign that your husband is close, making you feel so dizzy and overwhelmed. It's been weeks since you felt like this.

You whisper how much you've missed each other, how much you love each other.

He presses a needy kiss on your lips, his hips stuttering then slowing as relief washes over his beautiful features.

He cleans you up and takes care of you, uttering sweet words until you're sleeping.

He holds you all night then takes you again in the morning. You're so glad he's home.

[masterlist]

likes, comments + reblogs appreciated!

#byakuya kuchiki #byakuya kuchiki smut #byakuya smut #captain kuchiki #bleach #bleach byakuya #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x female reader

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hopelesslys-world · 10 months

Text

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME | CH. 5

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Age Gap ( Massimo is 34 reader is 20 ), sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral (both female and male), yandere themes, stalking, KIDNAPPING, violence, harsh language, murder...

Tell me if I missed something... ( As you can see most of those warnings will make their appearance in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏, 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 outside. You felt a slight depressed feeling approaching you, not to mention that you were starving like never before.

Right as your brain woke up, you felt someone’s hand lying heavy on your waist. Massimo was sleeping next to you, spooning you from behind leaving no space whatsoever, curled into a ball just like you with his arm around you securely.

Moments of yesterday's fight flashed before your eyes and disgust washed over you. What was he doing here? Being all cuddly and shit? If he won't apologise for his behaviour then you're in for a much terrible year.

You were afraid to move, to wake him, and you had to go to the bathroom. Slowly, you started to slip from under his arm, lifting it delicately. Massimo took a deep breath and turned over on his back. He was still asleep. You got up and headed to the bathroom tiptoeing.

After you were done with your business, you took your clothes off and went to the enormous shower. You turned the water on letting it soak you. Taking your loofah and using a generous amount of heavenly scented soap you began to scrub your body.

The door slammed open suddenly. It was the Man in Black. He was ogling me, not even trying to act cool.

A surprised scream left your mouth and hurried to cover up all your lady parts. "What the hell" you murmured to yourself

“Good morning, baby girl. May I join you?” he asked, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

At first first all you wanted was to rush at him, pummel him with your fists for what would have been the thousandth time, and throw him out. But your experience of yesterday's fight told you that it would comedown to nothing and only elicit an abrupt, violent, and unpleasant reaction.

Instead, you replied, “You wouldn't leave even if I told you to. So be my guest.”

Massimo stopped rubbing his eyes, frowned, and froze, dumbfounded. He must have thought he had misheard you. You had thrown him off balance.

Time to finally put Plan C into action I guess. You thought mischievously.

You couldn’t change the fact that he had just gone in behind you and seen you naked, no other man had seen you like this before. It was for a brief moment, though. Your hands hugged your breasts protectively while you crossed your legs tightly preventing anyone from seeing your bare womanhood.

Slowly, Massimo approached the expansive shower, grabbed the shirt from the back of his neck and tore it off with one fluid motion. You backed up against the shower's wall, surely but hesitantly you removed one of your hands and began scrubbing again. Keeping your eyes glued to the floor tiles not daring to meet his burning gaze.

Massimo entered the enormous cubicle and turned on the second shower head. There were four of those in total, not counting the gigantic water jet panel that looked like a bathroom radiator.

“We’re leaving today,” the Man in Black said impassively. “We’re going to be away for a couple of days. Maybe weeks. I don’t know yet. We’ll drop by some galas and parties, so take this into account while packing your things. Domenico will take care of everything. You just tell him what you need.”

In the end, your curiosity won. You turned his way and saw Massimo standing with his arms propped on the wall, letting the water flow freely down his naked body. The first man you saw naked in real life and not movies.

The view was overwhelming— toned leg, shapely buttocks, muscled belly were all testament to the enormous work he had to do to keep his body in such perfect shape. Your eyes stopped wandering not wanting to push your luck and create sly comments from him.

The soap disappeared from your body, you turned off the water and moved forward to leave the shower. Without warning Massimo grabbed your arm and you slammed softly to his chest with a gasp. You could feel his erect cock touching your lower back.

"I wanted to say sorry for yesterday, you made me so furious I wasn't able to control myself." He kissed your shoulder. You didn't move. "I want to be gentle with you Y/N, but I don't know how...will you teach me how to be gentle?" His lips started to trail toward your neck and his large hands roamed your waist.

You nodded. Your body was rebelling against you, where did that even come from? He was so mean to you and now you wanted to fuck him?

What the hell!?

"I have to get ready." You said desperately wanting to get out of there.

He let you go with no complaints and you rushed out. You grabbed a bathrobe on your way and threw it over myself, running through the door.

You shut yourself in the ginormous closet until you heard him leave. You sat at a bench scolding your subconscious that wanted you to sleep with him. How did that thought even crossed your mind, it was sick! You didn't know what time it was or how long you stayed in there.

Suddenly, you heard someone knock on the room's door, unwillingly you gathered your wits and left the closet to go and answer the door.

It was no other than Domenico, "Hi." You greeted. You moved aside to let him in, he was holding two gigantic Louis Vuitton travel bags.

The young Italian smiled. “Hey, you are leaving in an hour, so I thought you could use some help, miss. Unless you don’t want me to…”

“Stop calling me miss. I can’t stand it. Besides, you can't be that older, so let’s skip the formalities.”

Domenico smiled and nodded, signaling his consent. “Can you tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“To Napoli, Rome, and Venice,” he replied. “And then the Côte d’Azur.”

You opened your eyes wider, surprised. You had never been to all those places. You haven’t seen so many places in your whole life!

“Do you know what we’re to do in each of those places?” you asked. “I’d like to know what to take with me.”

Domenico walked over to the closet. “I do, in fact, but I was told not to spoil it for you. Don Massimo will make everything clear in time. I’ll help you pick the right outfits, don’t worry.” He winked at you. “Fashion is something of a hobby to me.”

“I’ll trust you fully if that’s the case. If we only have an hour to prepare, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Domenico nodded and disappeared in the cavernous closet.

"Domenico," you said. He quickly spun around to meet your face. "Could you by any chance bring me something to eat? I'm starving to death here..."

"Consider it done." He then speed dial someone on the phone and arranged you a meal in Italian.

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Fifty minutes later, you were standing in front of the mirror, packing your cosmetics into one of the leather bags. You'd tied your hair neatly with a hair clip, Domenico picked a red maxi skirt and a white top, along with white heels and jewellery that complemented the outfit perfectly.

“Your things are packed,” Domenico said, passing you your bag.

“I’d like to see Massimo now, please.”

“He hasn’t finished his meeting yet, but—”

“Well it's about time he does, ” you interrupted disdainfully, leaving the room.

The library was one of those rooms whose location you had committed to memory. You headed down the corridor, and the patter of your hills reverberated from the stone floor. As you reached the right door, you took a deep breath and pulled on the handle. You went inside and felt a shiver running down your spine. You hadn’t been here since your first conversation with the Man in Black, only a while after waking up from your deep sleep.

Massimo was sitting on the couch. He wore a light linen suit and an unbuttoned shirt. Next to him sat a man with graying hair—very handsome and a lot older than Massimo. A typical Italian, you thought. Longish hair combed back and a well-groomed goatee. Seeing you, both of them jumped to their feet.

The first look you got from Massimo was ice-cold. As if he wanted to scold you for interrupting his meeting. But as soon as his eyes swept your entire silhouette, his stare seemed to grow less severe. He said something to the other man, keeping his eyes on you, and started walking your way. He approached you and leaned over, kissing you on the cheek.

“You look lovely,” he whispered, planting the kiss. He took your hand in his and led you to his friend.

“Y/N, meet Mario—my right hand.” you walked over to the man to offer him a hand, but he swooped in, grabbed you by the shoulders, and kissed you on both cheeks. You still hadn’t grown used to that. Where you come from, you only kiss your closest friends and relatives.

“Consigliere,” you said with a smile.

“Just Mario is all right.” The older man returned your smile. “It is good to finally see you in the flesh. Alive.”

Those words rooted you to the spot. What did he mean, “alive”? Had he assumed you wouldn’t live to see him? Your face must have shown some of your emotions, as Mario quickly explained, “There are paintings of you all over the mansion. They’ve been there for years now, but nobody ever believed you were real. You must be as astounded as we are.”

You could only nod.

“I won’t lie: this whole situation is a bit surreal and daunting. But we all know I have no power over don Massimo, so I humbly accept each and every one of the three hundred and sixty-five days he has given me.” Irony was your new best friend now, you rolled your eyes.

Massimo burst out laughing. “Humbly…” he repeated, turning to his companion, who immediately joined in the merriment.

“I’m happy I could improve your mood. Now, I’ll wait in the car so you can enjoy my absence,” you hissed, sending them both an ironic smirk. As I turned you back on them and headed to the door, you heard Mario say, trying to hold back the laughter, “Indeed, Massimo, it’s just as if she was Italian.”

You ignored that and shut the door behind you. You stopped before you exited the house and went out to the driveway. The image of the dead man lying on the paving stones flashed before your eyes. You swallowed, took a furtive look around, and headed in the direction of the SUV parked outside. The driver opened the door for you and gave you a hand as you stepped inside.

Your iPhone was lying on the back seat, right next to your laptop. You squealed with glee, seeing both devices. You turned the phone on only to find out that your password was changed.

You tried and tried again until you were made to stop by the phone's security.

That fucking bastard!

In that moment, the car door opened, and Massimo deftly slipped inside. He took a look at your hand. The iPhone was still in it. "Why did you change my password?" You asked your vision going red. That also means that he scrolled through it as well!

“I don't trust you that much, just yet. You will only talk with your relatives under my supervision.” he replied casually. He pressed the button and then the black glass separated us from the driver.

“The last stop of our trip will be Warsaw. It won’t be as soon as you’d like, but calling your parents more often from now on should assuage her concerns and give us more time, so you can call them whenever you want- while I'm with you.”

That was good news. “Thanks I guess...” You turned your head away looking at the window.

Massimo kept his eyes on you for a moment longer. Then he lay his head on the headrest and sighed. “I’m not so bad. I don’t want to keep you here against your will. I don’t want to threaten you. But, tell me: would you stay of your own will?” He fixed you with a searching stare.

You turned away. Would you stay? Of course not. Without second thoughts.

The Man in Black was still waiting for a reply, but didn’t get one, so he turned to his iPhone, scrolling and reading something on the Internet.

The silence was unbearable. You needed someone to talk to. Maybe it was because of your longing for home. Still looking through the window, you asked, “Where are we going now?”

“The airport in Catania. If the traffic is light, we should be there in less than an hour.”

Another good thing, you enjoyed flying a lot.

Massimo reached into the glove compartment and took out a black paper bag. “I have something for you,” he said, handing me the package.

You frowned and sent him a questioning look.

The elegant gold lettering on its front formed the words “Patek Philippe.” youknew that name. There could only be one thing inside. You also knew how expensive those watches were. “Massimo… I…” your eyes wandered back to him. “I can’t accept that.”

He laughed out loud, sliding on his aviators. “Baby girl, this is one of the cheaper gifts I’m going to give you. Besides, don’t forget you don’t get to decide for another few hundred days. Open it.”

You knew this was going nowhere—arguing with him never did. It could only lead to misery for you, especially since there was nowhere to run now. You pulled a black box from the bag and opened it. The watch was marvelous—pink gold encrusted with little diamonds. Simply perfect.

“You have been pretty isolated today. I had to reward you. I know I’ve taken much from you, but you’ll start getting it all back now,” Massimo said, fastening the watch on your wrist.

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[ series masterlist ]

TAGLIST: ( THANK YOU ❤️ (if you want to be added comment in the chapters or send a message:) ) @lucidlivi

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

#massimo torricelli smut #massimo torricelli fanfic #massimo torricelli x reader #massimo torricelli x you #massimo torricelli #massimo torricelli series #365 days #michele morrone #dark themes #smut

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blueicequeen19 · 1 year

Text

Fools Gold Pt. 2

Warnings: dub-con, unprotected sex, angst

Part One

I wake up with a groan, my body felt like I'd been hit by a bus. It takes me all of two seconds to realize I'm in a guys bed just by the smell of the sheets. What time was it?

I quickly set up in the full size bed and immediately winced. I push the covers back to look at the bite mark on my inner thigh. It was throbbing. Along with my sore pussy and nipples. There were bruises around my wrists and my ankle that had been tied.

Jesus. He had not held back.

Then it dawns on me. I'm in JJ's bed. Still in my clothes from yesterday. I jump to my feet. Where were my keys and phone? How the hell had I gotten here?

"You might as well make yourself comfortable because you're not leaving." I gasp, stumbling back against the night stand when I notice him leaning in the doorway to the bathroom I hadn't noticed in only a towel. I try not to let my eyes linger but I can't help it. He was sexy as fuck even with that pissed off expression on his face. I could make out the outline of his definitely-not-small dick through the towel. His wet hair was causing water to drip down his abs and my mouth was suddenly dry. I swallow, meeting his eyes.

"You can't keep me here." I finally say, still propped against the night stand. I had nowhere else to go. JJ smirks as he makes his way over to me. I try to scramble across the bed but he catches my ankles and yanks me back, flipping me onto my back and pinning me down with his hard body. I'm panting as I stare up at him and realize his towel has come loose.

"Let's get one thing straight," I turn away but JJ grips my chin and forces me to look back at him. "I own you now. You stole half a million dollars worth of gold bars so trust me when I say I fucking own your ass until you've paid back every penny. You'll do what I say, when I say it. And no cheap pussy is going to get you off the hook." JJ bites out. I narrow my eyes before looking between us at his prominent erection.

"Cheap pussy? Then why are you hard right now? This cheap pussy turning you on, Maybank?" I reach between us and grab his member, earning a deep growl or moan from him. I tighten my grip as I start to stroke him from root to tip, his arms on either side of my head start to shake.

"Don't flatter yourself. A hole is a hole." JJ slaps my hand away and shoves off, letting the towel drop and sauntering naked to his dresser. I prop myself up on my elbows as I watch him dress. I couldn't let the free show go to waste. Everything about him was hard. He even struggles to zip his jeans with how hard he is. I smirk and he scowls.

I sense his anger and irritability only growing worse so I jump up and run into the bathroom for a shower of my own. I was so horny from watching him and having him touch me, I needed to take care of it before I burst at the seams. I slapped the door shut and quickly stripped before jumping under the hot spray. I immediately groaned, the warmth washing over me as I dragged my hands down my face. I blink the water from my eyes when I see that the shower head is detachable and I immediately grab it. I plant myself into the corner and prop one of my legs up, quickly changing the spray to jet and lowering it to my throbbing clit. I immediately cry out, the pressure too much and too intense all at once. I move it back, my legs already starting to shake. This was going to be over quick.

My eyes fall closed just as I'm reaching my peak when suddenly the sprayer is yanked from my hands and I'm hauled out of the shower. I gasp as JJ sits me down on the vanity, shoving my legs open wide.

"Only I get to make you cum. Do you understand me?" JJ growls, shoving two thick fingers inside me before I can answer. My eyes roll back and my back arches as I'm brought quickly to my release. My hands grip the edge of the vanity so tightly it hurts but I can't help it. It hits me so hard it steals my breath. I barely register JJ's growl and his hands tight on my hips before he's thrusting inside me. It felt even better than his fingers.

"Hang on to me." JJ orders and I immediately wrap my wet body around his still fully clothed one. He'd have to change again but who cared. He fucked me hard and fast, sinking his teeth into the curve of my shoulder and neck as he pulled out and came all over my stomach and pussy. I shook uncontrollably until he pushed my hands off and stepped out of the bathroom, letting the door slam behind him.

After finishing my shower and pulling on some of his clean clothes, I slowly make my way out into his living room. I immediately smell pizza and I round the corner to see him standing in the kitchen while he eats, washing it down with brown liquor.

"Eat." He snaps, taking another drink. I roll my eyes as I open the box and take out a slice.

"I'm not a dog." I chirp, taking a bite of the cheese and grease heaven.

"You sure act like a bitch though." I pause my chewing as I glare at him. He had a reason to hate me, that was fine. But I didn't have to take his petty disrespect.

"Says the man with the fragile ego." I say after swallowing my bite. JJ finishes off his slice and downs the rest of his drink, his cheeks turning pink from the alcohol.

"So how'd you do it?" JJ asks, crossing his arms as he stares at me from across the kitchen.

"How'd I do what?" Which part did he want to know?

"Don't play stupid. How'd you know where the bars were hidden?"

"You and your group of children aren't exactly discreet on your whereabouts and what you're doing." I finish my pizza and wipe my hands on a paper towel. JJ shakes his head, his face scrunched up in anger.

"I followed you guys everywhere. You never even noticed. Never covered your tracks. I sat back and waited before I made my move. By the time you noticed that, it was gone. Too late."

His chest was heaving so hard I thought he might be hyperventilating but I kept going.

"I'm so sick of this town letting you guys get away with everything. The only one who actually catches shit from the cops is you and that's because you're Luke Maybank's son and everyone knows what a piece of shit he is. I regret not leaving a few bars behind for you but I had shit I had to take care of too." I choke on the last words, fighting down the tears and the emotions that threatened to spill.

"You couldn't report me without raising a lot of questions you don't want answered."

JJ cups his jaw, blue eyes ablaze as he looks at me. The slight shake to his shoulders tells me how angry he is for his own mistakes but I don't care. I'm past caring. Fuck him and his friends.

"We found that gold. We earned it. We all almost died for it and you just stole it and spent it like it was nothing." He's yelling now but I don't even flinch. Not until he rounds the counter after me and yanks me from my place on the bar stool to shove me against the wall.

"That was my ticket out of here! I was free! You took everything from me!" My throat tightens as I stare into his tear-filled blue eyes. I didn't feel bad. I couldn't. I had needs too.

"I don't care about you. I did what I had to do for my family."

"What did you do, huh? Buy an island? Plan a trip to Disneyland? Build a house?" He slams my back against the wall and I fist his shirt, not backing down from his tantrum.

"I paid off my dead mothers medical bills and paid for my little sister to go to school." I growl, slamming my hands into his chest just as my tears start to spill. JJ pauses before taking a step back, his eyes wide as he searches my face for any sign of a lie.

"Trust me, I'd rather have gone to Disneyland." I snarl, wiping my eyes as he tries to find words. Who knew JJ Maybank could be made speechless. Another minute goes by before he checks the time and grabs his keys.

"Let's go." He growls, moving towards the door and pulling on a hoodie. A hoodie? In seventy degree weather?

"Where are we going?" I demanded, crossing my arms in defiance. Fuck him.

"You are going to break into the Cameron Mansion." JJ smirks, throwing another hoodie at me. My jaw hits the floor. Was he forreal?

JJ steps up into my space, glaring at me down his nose. This close I can tell it’s been broken a few times. I swallow, determined not to let him scare me as I stare back up at him.

"I said I own you. Let's go."

#jj maybank smut #smutwarning #outer banks smut #tw dark content #dark!jj maybank #jjmaybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank cnc #tw dubious consent

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whorekneecentral · 2 years

Note

max forgetting he has dinner plans with you after seeing you all dressed up, only for you to angrily unzip your dress to show his favorite lingerie set on you.

he'd probably feel so bad tbh lmao -- so soft max it is.

7... 7:30... 8.. 8:30.. and he's not at your door. The reservations were at 9, where was he? You text your boyfriend to see if he’s still coming.

To Max: hey, where are you?

15 minutes pass and he doesn't answer. Off you go to his apartment, just a block over so you decide to walk, the cool air of Monaco calming your nerves. All the scenarios run through your head; good and bad. You knew Max always answered, even if he was surprising you, he’d answer.

You can't blame yourself for being on edge.

The key turns in the lock and the apartment was silent when you walk in. Max’s phone on the table in the entry way as are his keys. The shoes are by the door and you see his shirt on the floor.

“Max?” You call for him, picking up the shirt.

You slip your heels off by the door and walk down the hallway to his bedroom. The door was slightly opened, you can see the figure on the bed and when you push the door open, you find your boyfriend fast asleep on the bed.

Smiling to yourself, you put the shirt in the hamper and you get on the bed with him. “Max?” You brush his blonde hair back, running your fingers through it. Max shifts a little but he's still fast asleep.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper, kissing along his jaw. Max hums, rubbing his eyes. He smells your perfume before he sees you and he sits up suddenly, looking back to see you all dolled up; hair, nails, makeup and your pretty yellow dress.

“Oh my god, we had dinner.” He breathes, rubbing his eyes.

“It's okay baby, we can order takeout, or I can cook.”

Max’s expression soften as he looks at you, “sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I had training and then the jet lag.. I'm sorry.”

You grab his hand, smiling. “It's okay. It’s not the end of the world.” You get off the bed, pulling your hair over your shoulder. “Unzip me please? I’m gonna change.”

He rolls over and unzips your dress, he can see the black lace under your dress. He lets out a sigh when he sees the dress pool around your ankles. The man grabs your hand and turns you to face him. Max smiles at the sight of you, pulling you back onto the bed with him.

“We can order something later,” he tells you, kissing up your thigh when he settled between your legs. “Let me make it up to you.” His hands already reaching for the lace sitting on your hips.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, “you don’t have to do that, baby.”

Max's blue eyes meet yours, “I want to.” He says, and your head falls back when you feel his tongue lap over your cunt, his lips sucking on your clit. Your hand comes down to tangle in his hair; you're so glad he hasn’t cut it yet.

Your hips buck slightly when you feel his fingers push in you, curling upwards and moving back and forth slowly. Max pushes your thighs back, giving him space.

“Be a good girl,” he says, glancing up at you.

#max verstappen #max verstappen smut

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softly-potter · 3 months

Text

Gem

Summary: Emerald knows her roommate takes advantage of her smarts, but she’ll always say yes. College!AU

Pairing: Emerald X Cinder

Word Count: 934

Warning: none

The door slam told Emerald what type of mood her roommate was in.

Shuffling on her mattress she listened for the tell-tale signs of Cinder’s different moods; sniffling for sadness, humming for happy, silent for thoughtful, swearing under her breath for anger.

“Fucking little know it all.”

Cinder was angry.

Emerald propped her chin up on her elbow, ankles crossed as she waited for Cinder to come out of their tiny dorm bathroom, and spill her thoughts.

If there was one thing Cinder couldn't do, it was keep her thoughts to herself.

The bathroom door swung open and Cinder walked out, her knuckles white on her backpack as she angrily dropped it on the floor.

“Salem is a bitch,” Cinder said in a dark tone, and Emerald quietly put her pen down, giving Cinder her full attention, how Cinder liked it. “I mean, she says she’s too old for me. What bullshit. She just doesn't want to have a girlfriend while on spring break.”

Emerald makes a sympathetic face, sitting up from her position and putting her feet on the floor. The dorm had just enough space for two twin beds against each wall, with mini desks at the foot of them, and one large window in the middle of the outward wall. It's so small that Emerald shuffles her feet so her toes don't brush against Cinders.

“So she just dumped you? Like that?” Emerald scoffed, playing up to Cinder's attitude, getting on Cinder's level of annoyance. To survive living with Cinder, you almost have to mimic her actions.

Cinder nodded vehemently, and Emerald let her eyes get wide, her mouth dropping in a dramatic ‘o’ shape. “That bitch.”

“I know right?” Cinder shot back, raising her hands in frustration. “As if she’s so great. Do you know that she snores? But only after she cums. Which is often when she was with me.”

A smug look spread on Cinders face and Emerald strains to copy it, moving her mouth to the right in a faux lopsided smile.

“Well, I'm still sorry about that,” Emerald said in light sympathy, carding her hands through the papers strewn across her bed. “Buuuut in better news, I finished that paper you asked for.”

Cinder's eyes shone, and suddenly she’d leaned over Emerald's shoulder, surveying her work. She smelled like a bonfire, the oaky scent clinging to her dark letterman jacket, and her jet black hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder. The escaped hair tickles Emeralds nose, and she holds her breath, unwilling to move.

Grabbing the paper, Cinder straightened, taking the oaky scent with her, and popped her hip out as she read and Emerald waited, fingers fidgeting in her lap.

“This is great Em,” Cinder said and set the paper down on her desk before sitting back on her own bed, putting her legs crossed beneath her. “You’re a gem. What would I do without all your help?”

Probably fail all your classes Emerald thought, but said nothing and instead gives the dark haired girl a nonchalant shrug.

Returning to her homework, Emerald occasionally allowed her eyes to wander to the other side of the room. Cinder propped herself up on the headboard, her left leg pulled close to her chest as she polished her toes a deep purple.

Pen between her teeth, Emerald circled her assignment answer, her eyes scanned the page as her ankles locked once more.

“Em?”

Emerald doesn’t change position but inside she reeled, biting the tip of the pen harder. “Mmm?”

“If… someone else needed… your expertise… on an assignment, would you be willing?” Cinder asked, and although Emerald isn't facing her, she can imagine her expression.

Releasing the pen from her mouth, Emerald shrugged, eyes still on the page.

They both know she’ll say yes to whatever Cinder asked of her. She just can't seem too eager. Then it ruined the moment for Cinder, and Emerald hated ruining things.

“To stay on cheer, Hazel has to bring his grade up in math,” Cinder continued, her tone airy. “And tutors are… well, beneath the cheer squad if i’m honest. If you could help him out, we’d all really appreciate it.”

Sitting up once more, Emerald clutched at her devout, looking down at her knees. “Yeah, of course. Can’t let you lose your base now, can I?”

Emerald looked up, and Cinder gave her a nearly face splitting grin, as if she hadn’t known exactly how this would play out. Opening her book bag, she shuffled through it for a moment, then gripped a notebook and passed it to Emerald.

Gripping the spin, Emerald pulled, but Cinder resisted, holding the opposite end. She cocked her head, a smile almost threatening to show. “This means a lot, Em.”

Pulling again, Emerald opened the notebook and splayed it on her bed, but said nothing. Her heart was pulled in her throat, thumping in her ears. Laying once more on her stomach, she quickly read over Hazel’s math assignment, pressing her check into her hand and supported her jaw.

She can hear Cinder shuffle, but stiffened when a cool hand slides over the base of the back of her neck, before brushing up into her short hair, almost scratching. Cinder hummed as she repeated the action, rubbing Emerald's head once more and then walking past her, back into their small shared bathroom.

Emerald inhaled deeply, trying to remind her brain to calm down. Poking her head out, Cinder raised both her brows.

“Thanks again for doing this Em,” she says, her voice as silky and dangerous as a spider's web. “You’re just such a gem.”

#cinder fall #rwby fanfiction #cinder fall rwby #emerald #ao3 crosspost

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feverinfeveroutfic · 1 month

Text

blood & chocolate

chapter twenty-nine: i feel the dark

The next thing I knew, I woke up to the feeling of something soft in my hands. Something soft in my hands, and something warm and tender pressed up against my body, complete with the smell of something soapy and fresh right up against the tip of my nose. I pulsed my fingers against his flesh, and I smiled at the feeling inside of my palms, and I thought of kissing him on the side of the neck just to fully relish in the feeling before me. He was so soft and tender, like I had made a batch of good biscuits, all straight out of the oven.

All I felt like doing was spooning his little body. To hold him and feel him all night long.

But then again, I started to think about his pleasure, the way that he was feeling laying there before me and in my arms. I needed to know how he would feel if I gave him what he hungered for with me.

Alex shifted his weight a bit, and I subsequently loosened my grip on him. He rolled over onto his back, and I moved my hand down to the waist of his underwear. Loose locks of his black hair spread over the side of his face and neck: with his eyes still closed, he really looked like a young boy again.

At some point during our time there in the safety of my bedroom, he had taken off his pants and showed me his snug little shorts in all of their pearlescent white glory. His legs were long and lanky, and his sinewy thighs had not a single hair to be found on them. Perfect for kisses once we got things going again.

So long and thin, so delicate, and so toned as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about his thighs even as I closed my eyes again and kept my arms around his waist. I kept my body pressed against his as well: no way I was going to let this gorgeous boy go away from me. I gently rubbed the side of my face against the inside of his hair to take in the soft, soapy musk at the roots of his coarse jet-black hair.

I wanted nothing more than to drink him down. Give him some more weight just to hold onto his body a while longer and then I could drink him in like I was parched and dry, so thirsty from traversing across the desert. I was thirsty. I was thirsty and hungry. I nuzzled his hair some more, and I slithered my fingers over his waist. I ran my fingertip around the rim of his belly button. Oh, to make him all the food he could ever possibly wish for and watch him gain more weight. For him to gain weight and grow even softer with the feeling.

Still keeping his eyes closed, Alex rolled his head over the top of the pillow, and for a second, I swore that he would wake up and see me looking over him. I began thinking ahead in all of this, and more so when I wondered if Dave was still out there in the front porch.

What would happen if Alex and I found each other some ten years before in particular.

I lightly ran my fingers down the crest of his hipbone and onto the top of his thigh: where his belly was soft and plush as a pillow, his thighs were toned and sinewy. He cracked a smile and snickered from the feeling: I tickled the top of his skin, and he kicked his legs a bit. I licked my lips as I held both hands over the tops of his thighs.

“Mmm… cut it out, you guys,” he giggled, and I tickled him with both hands over his little belly, and at that point, he jolted himself awake and threw himself against my body. His eyes were big and his cherry lips had parted enough to where I could readily kiss him if I wanted to.

“I couldn’t resist tickling you,” I confessed.

“I can see that,” he whispered to me, and he swallowed hard. That beautiful Adam’s apple on his throat.

Alex slithered off of me and back onto the side of the bed right next to me. He then sat up and ran his long, spidery fingers through his black hair. He shook his head and gazed on back at me with a pensive look upon his face.

“So… do we wanna get the weed?” I asked him as I propped my head up in my palm.

“Yeah. But I kind of want to stay here, though. I don’t really feel like going out and nabbing some bud for us at the moment.”

He then lay back down next to me with his hands folded over his chest and his stomach, the latter of which rose up a bit from underneath his shirt.

“You are getting so soft,” I told him.

“And I’m about to get even softer.” He put his hands underneath his head, and the bottom hem of his shirt lifted up to show me some of his skin and the fine line of hair that ran down from his belly button to the top of the hem of his shorts. I licked my lips and moved my head in closer to his face as if to entice him with some kisses. But I never did. Instead, I teased him with the suggestion that I was about to do that for him.

He hooded his eyes at me, and in turn, he showed me a sweet little smile. He moved one hand down from his head and rested it on the upper part of his stomach. Our eyes locked, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched him run his hand down to the waist of his shorts and ultimately, that bare exposed skin. Our eyes were locked, and yet, I knew what he was doing right then in teasing me.

He showed me his tongue, and his eyes darkened at the feeling. If only I could see in what he was seeing with me right then: I would probably do the same thing that he was doing.

“I don’t want to leave this bed, if I’m honest,” he confessed; his voice drifted down into that low and husky tone once again, and that time it sounded as though he was in fact seducing me. “I really don’t want to leave this room, either. Let’s stay here forever.”

“But if we stay here, we can’t get more food,” I pointed out. “We can’t get more food and you would lose your belly.”

“True, true,” he replied as he slowly caressed the very tips of his fingers over the roundest part of his belly: his waist was thick and full, and my fingers tingled at the thought of his soft skin there. I pursed my lips as I strove not to look down there. I needn’t look at that beautiful skin and let him win the tease. I was more drawn to those bright blue eyes of his, anyway, the way they burned themselves right into my mind like the cherries of cigarettes, much like how I wanted to swipe those cherry lips of his with the touch of my own.

But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his stroking his own skin at such a slow, deliberate pace and with nothing more than the tips of his fingers. I thought about putting my head down there just to kiss him on that soft skin. Kiss him there and undo his pants to bring on a good old-fashioned little blowie. I knew he had a great appetite residing within him: it was just coaxing it out into the open.

“I have a question,” he started again, that time with a clearing of his throat.

“Go ahead,” I coaxed him.

“Why can’t I rub your belly?” he asked me with a playful little smirk.

“Mine?” I sputtered out, slightly taken aback. He finally let go of my gaze and let those eyes of his sweep down to the rest of my body. He showed me the tip of his tongue once again, that time at the edges of his teeth.

“Yeah, you’ve got this… soft pillow here, almost like that of a big round teddy bear of sorts.” His gaze never left my body. “I kind of want to give you some touches and some lovin’, too.” Those luminous, deep eyes swept up to my face as if he was enticing me. A shiver ran up my spine, and my fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him some more.

“I kind of… want to kiss you on the belly,” he continued. “You know, give you the same sweet caresses that you give unto me.”

“You are just so irresistible,” I remarked. He hooded his eyes as he examined the crest of my collar bones and the sides of my neck. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I especially wished I knew what he was thinking when he moved his fingers down to the waist of his shorts. No way he could do that in front of me.

“The shorts are coming off,” he breathed out to me.

“The shorts are staying on until I say so,” I commanded to him, also in a low tone of voice. He inched closer to me, and not once did he take his hand off his body, either. I finally put my arm around his body and held him even closer to me: as soft as ever.

“God, I love to cuddle,” I whispered into his ear.

“I love to cuddle and I love to feel,” he retorted back to me.

“You like to play, too,” I said.

“We’re gonna have to face Elle and Dave at some point, though,” he pointed out with a sigh.

“I know, and that kills me to think about, too,” I confessed as I ran my finger along the line of hair under his belly button. He shifted his hips at the feeling, and he held still when I kept my fingertip right at the waist of his underwear. “Kills me to think that this beautiful skin could be subject to all of that, when you deserve to be genuinely kissed and loved on.”

“Do you think Dave is still out there?”

“That means I would have to let you go and get up,” I pointed out, and I lightly moved my finger down his happy trail again, and that time around brought a light little gasp from his lips. “Does that tickle?”

“I ain’t telling you,” he chided.

“If I go and look to see if Dave is out there, would you tell me?”

“Depends,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “You feel like making us something to nosh on?”

“I’m actually not hungry,” I told him. “But I’ll make you a little something something, though.”

He licked his lips again, that time with as much slowness and deliberation as his fingers on his belly.

“I’ll be right here waiting,” he promised me in a near whisper.

I climbed over him and padded out of the bedroom to the front of my apartment, which had been enshrouded with darkness with the coming of nightfall. I was wary to not switch on the light lest Dave be out there and see me through the blinds on the front window there. Lou’s place next door was completely silent on the other side of the kitchen wall; but I took a peek through the blinds in the kitchen to my narrow square porch right outside the door. No one out there.

Dave either never showed up, or he did but he left after a bit.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and I reached back and switched on the kitchen light to make Alex a pastrami sandwich on a hoagie roll. I served it on a plate and everything.

When I left the kitchen, and I turned off the light, I held still so my eyes would adjust to the darkness again. When I returned to the room, he had sat upright in bed and turned on the light on the desk: he kept the hem of his shirt up to show off his belly to me.

“Yup, he’s definitely out there,” I said to him, and I sank back down on the bed next to him.

“He’s going to be out there all night,” he chuckled as he took the sandwich from me and took a bite. “Oh, my god. It’s so good.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from, big boy,” I assured him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament fanfic #testament band #alex skolnick #eric peterson #slash fic #slash fanfiction #belly kink #kink tag #kink content #writing #also on ao3 #text #mild smut #blood & chocolate #blood and chocolate #blood & chocolate fanfic

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bandedbulbussnarfblat · 8 months

Text

Home chapter 4

here is the final chapter of my latest fic in the old maniel gets it series

The next month seems to fly by. It's filled with paint swatches and wallpaper samples and endless browsing for furniture. Daniel doesn’t much care how they decorate. It's a good thing, because Armand prefers making the decisions. (He does at least run everything by Daniel first.)

They have something of an argument about whether to move in right away, or have decorators prepare the house first. Daniel wants to move in as soon as possible. Armand wants to make things perfect first. Then Daniel reminds him that he is sick, and his time left is limited. So Armand gives in.

It's the only real time they've argued; besides a bit of mild bickering. It's been a good month. Daniel hasn't felt this domestic since he was married. It feels like being married.

They sleep in the same bed during the day. At night, they'll go out sometimes and stay in others. They've gotten a few odd glances, but Daniel has ignored them. He gets from the outside it looks like a strange pairing.

Armand has been biting him nearly every night, as well as giving him the blood. It's much more frequent than when he was younger. Daniel asks about it one night, and Armand tells him it's to help with his pain. Aches and pains are part of old age; Daniel barely notices it anymore. But it's sweet that Armand worries over him.

They've also been fucking like rabbits. Daniel’s had more sex in the last month than in the last five years. It's always as good as the first time. Everything is good with Armand; Daniel feels happier than he ever has.

They fly on the private jet to Florida. The movers have already arrived by the time they get there and have unloaded most of their things. Daniel oversees them moving the remaining things, and has them put to where he thinks Armand would want them. He’s almost certain Armand will redo most of it anyway.

At nightfall, Armand joins him.

They christen the bed, staining the new sheets with blood and other fluids. Then they drink champagne and toast to the future. Daniel feels almost completely content.

“Are you happy, my love?” Armand asks. There’s something in his eyes, some intensity that Daniel can’t understand.

Daniel lays his head on Armand’s chest and twines their legs together. Armand’s fingers stroke through his hair. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“And is there anything else you would like? Anything at all?” That same intensity there again.

Daniel props up on an elbow and peers down at Armand. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, Daniel. I merely wish to see you happy.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel says, not buying that for a minute. “Well, all I need to be happy is you.”

Daniel means to press Armand further, but then Armand pulls him into a kiss and the next thing he knows he’s on his back and Armand is inside him and it can wait.

The days slip by, one after the other. Daniel is happy and content. He still occasionally thinks of his daughters, and wishes that he could fix things with them. But he figures they need time. Maybe once things get bad off with him, they’ll come to patch things up before he dies.

It’s thinking of them that leads him into thoughts of death. Precisely into thoughts of how he doesn’t want to die. He was ready to meet death before, when he didn’t have anything to live for. Now he has Armand. Now, he’s happy. He doesn’t want to give all this up.

Daniel doesn’t say anything to Armand. He’s made it pretty clear that he has no intention of making Daniel a vampire. Unless he’s changed his mind in the years between them. But Daniel is afraid to ask.

Still, he can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s on his mind all the time. So much so that one lazy Sunday, around three weeks after they’ve moved in, Armand pauses Netflix and looks over to him. “Just ask, Daniel.”

“What?”

“You’ve been thinking so loud you’re practically shouting.”

Daniel frowns; he hates when Armand pokes around his head without permission. But Armand has explained that when Daniel ‘thinks loudly’ he has to work to block out his thoughts. It requires effort to do so, and he’s typically relaxed around Daniel. And Daniel wants him to be comfortable.

But he’s been mulling over something and Daniel doesn’t know what it is, and it isn’t fair that Armand gets to read his mind.

“Why ask when I already know the answer?” The bitterness in his voice surprises Daniel.

Armand just looks at him for a long moment, then sighs. “You’re dying, beloved. I can sense it. And I’m too much of a coward to let you go.”

Daniel’s heart races. Dying? Is that what has been on Armand’s mind? That Daniel is dying? “How long do I have left?”

Armand shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. I can sense your death approaching, like an aura. It isn’t precise.”

He moves across the couch and straddles Daniel’s lap. His hands cup Daniel’s face. “I don’t want you to die.”

Daniel swallows and looks into his eyes. “I don’t want to die.”

“And I love you too much to let you.”

Daniel puts his hands on Armand’s waist. “Are you actually agreeing to make me like you?”

Armand presses their foreheads together. “If that’s what you want. I won’t deny you; we’ll be together in hell, after all.”

Daniel nods and his voice is shaky when he answers “It’s what I want. I want to live forever with you.”

“Eternity is long, Daniel. And the world is ever changing. Who knows what lies ahead for us?”

“I don’t care. I’ll go towards it with you.”

A tear slips from Armand’s eye and Daniel kisses his cheek, his mouth. “Don’t cry, baby. Look, all human decisions are like this. Do you think a parent knows what will happen to their child? Everybody is lost.”

“I’ve never done it before. I’ve done my share of evil, but never this.”

Daniel winds their fingers together. “ What does it matter if you give it to me and it's wrong?I want it, and I would have it.”

Armand nods. “Just say the word, my love. We’ll do it whenever you’re ready.”

Daniel wants to say goodbye to his family first, then he’ll be ready. “Give me a few days to tie things up.”

Only a few days, and he’ll have Armand forever.

#iwtv fic

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hapan-in-exile · 1 year

Text

Volume 1 - Post #9: The Interrogation

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 3.2K (of 25K total in Volume 1)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

______________________________________________

IX. “Nito,” you emerge at the top of the ladder, holding the kid aloft, and call into the cockpit with the sweetest voice imaginable. “Will you keep an eye on the kiddo for me?”

“While you tend to our dear captain?” The Ardennian asks over his shoulder. “Tell him I’m not taking orders until I get paid.”

“It’s not an order, Nito,” you groan impatiently. “I’m asking you for help.”

He leaps into the vestibule like the swing of a pendulum and snatches up the child between his lower limbs. “Ok, little man. You wanna learn how to install an R3 processor?”

“Can there at least be a truce until everyone’s properly rested?” You mutter into your palms. There is, frankly, an excess of testosterone on this ship. The kids included.

“Fine. But come back up here when you’re done, ok?” Nito whines. “I’m gonna have to sit here the whole flight to make sure we don’t die of radiation poisoning.”

“Of course! I will happily support you in that endeavor.”

“Radiation is the silent killer, Thuli,” he says, deadpan. “Bring some cards with you.”

Climbing down the ladder, you head back for the sleeping compartment. “Oh shit! Sorry, Mando.”

Your cheeks flush spectacularly when you step through a gap in the drop cloth curtain and walk in on him, releasing the clasp of his belt. Unconcerned, he tugs the leather from his waist, drawing the bandolier over his helmet and tossing it onto your bed.

“Oh. I, um, need to–”

No longer capable of formulating complete sentences, you merely point to the first aid cabinet mounted to the wall behind him.

Stepping around his immense form, you climb into the compartment on your hands and knees, rooting around to gather some surgical supplies. Where the fuck are your tweezers? Brilliant. If Nito took them...

You close the cabinet door and see something looming into your peripheral vision. Mando leans forward into the compartment, both elbows propped against the door frame. Resting his weight on his good leg, his hips tilt, stretching his already lengthy torso.

How is it possible to exude this much sex appeal without an inch of him uncovered?

Poised on your knees, you’re eye to eye now. Or rather, helmet to visor. The sleeping compartment is barely wider than the expanse of his shoulders, trapping you inside. Your heartbeat quickens, breath catching in your throat as you stare into that jet-black void, hoping there’s a chance he might abandon self-control and force you back onto the bed roll.

“Why do you always do that?” he asks, oblivious as always.

“Hmmm?” You’re still fantasizing about him crawling into the compartment on top of you, wrapping your thighs around his waist.

“Touch your visor every time your hand passes your face.”

“Oh,” you say, a little dumbstruck, doing your best to ignore him while stuffing some extra gauze under your arm. “Fidgety, I guess.”

In all honesty, you’re checking the tint settings for the millionth time to make sure he can’t see you leering at him. Which, thank the Gods! Because after sitting down on your heels to step out of the compartment, Mando reaches in to help you back on your feet. You misjudge the momentum, landing with about a hair’s breadth between you, and he would otherwise definitely notice that your pupils have dilated to the size of druggats.

“Thanks,” you hear yourself whisper as the Mandalorian slowly releases his grip on your arms. His helmet tilts down, watching your face intently. Somehow, you always forget how tall he is.

“You’re bleeding.” He says, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheek.

“Am I?” reaching a hand up to your face.

Probably from fighting off that Cathar. You hadn’t noticed the pain during your scuffle over the rifle. Taking off a glove, you drag your knuckle across the cut to wipe away the blood and grit. There’s a brief throb of heat when the skin fuses back together under your fingertips.

“Just like that.” He sounds astonished, watching until all that remained was a slightly raised scar on your cheek where the tear in flesh had been. That, too, would fade and, by tomorrow, be gone.

“Just like that,” you repeat, bemused. It’s odd. He always seemed so in awe of your abilities for someone who didn’t want you to use them. “Well…I’ll, uh…let you get undressed.”

Nodding, Mando kneels down to remove his boot. When he hesitates, you realize he’s looking up at you, staring at him.

“Right!” Cheeks achieving an even deeper shade of red, you awkwardly yank the curtain closed around him.

Compelled to do something with your hands, you start clearing up the mess from Nito’s dismembered astromech project. You really should work on manifesting some of that dark cosmic energy because here you are, picking up after the kids like you are some kind of fucking nursemaid.

Debating what Dathomiri robes you would wear in your new life as a Nightsister, you straighten up and nearly jump out of your skin when you sense the Mandalorian standing right behind you.

“Erenada, Mando! You scared me.” And it is genuinely frightening that he can move that stealthily.

“It’s a small ship.”

His gruff reply is rough through the modulator, causing the hairs along your scalp to tingle. Gods help you, but his voice is sexy, too!

While it doesn't count as much of an apology, he’s right about the Crest. As a patrol craft, the ship is basically a cockpit attached to a cargo hold. Thankfully, the carbonite rack has been moved, so you’re no longer confronted with a gallery of faces frozen in terror whenever you need to use the privy.

Collecting your wits for the task ahead, you take a deep breath, turning around to face him. And instantly let out another burst of laughter, placing a hand over your mouth to smother the sound.

“What?” he asks, perplexed.

“It's just...always interesting to see what you decide to take off versus leave on.”

It was hard to tell if the choice had more or less to do with modesty than the hassle of getting his leg out of that flight suit. It only started with the chest plate. Under that was the leather studded vest. Then there was another layer under that, with armored sleeves to attach his pauldrons.

All this had to be removed before he actually reached the zipper. At one point, you made a count and guessed that he wore at least three or four layers over every part of his body.

Well, except for…there.

With most of the armor removed, he stood, left leg bare from waist to foot, a latticework of scars glimmering against his golden skin. He holds one of the blankets from your bed, cinched tight around his waist. Shamelessly, you bury your face into the wool that night, hoping to catch a whiff of Mando’s junk now that you know he doesn’t wear anything under his flight suit.

Yup, just slutty, slutty, slut, slut.

This might be the first time you’ve ever seen his toes. Wonder what that’s about? How does he decide what parts of him are too particular to reveal—or, was it only his face?

“Got to be careful. I’m going to run out of pants if you keep tearing them off.”

W-whaaaaa—? Any hint of innuendo just hangs there between you, and you have to wonder how much of his meaning goes unseen from behind that Beskar.

“Um, fair enough,” you say stupidly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “I guess—let’s get started.”

Requisitioning Nito’s workbench as an exam table, you position it against the side of the hull and pat the cold metal surface to beckon him over. “Hopefully, I won’t have to amputate.”

The Mandalorian rolls his fingers into a leather fist before cracking each knuckle in turn. Striding across the cargo bay in strained silence, he crouches down astride the bench in front of you, the view plate squarely focused on your face.

“My favorite patient,” and you wink at him jovially. Eventually, he’s going to break under your relentless onslaught of charisma.

Alright! Time to focus. Because this next part is where all your respectful professionalism gets tested.

“I’ll start with the bandages.”

Unwrapping the blanket from his waist, you ease it back, eyes passing over the dark pubic hair that you somehow, always inadvertently reveal. It trailed down past his navel, growing thick and coarse as it spread to his groin. His cock is only just concealed beneath the inseam of his flight suit.

Focus, focus, focus…

You concentrate on the cold snipping sound of the scissors. Carefully tugging away the old bandages, you expose the weeping, mangled stitches. “Pffft. Next time, I should order you to bed rest,” you say, with a frustrated sigh.

“Order me?” Fortunately, he sounds more amused than insulted.

“New Republic Workplace Safety Standards for Interstellar Travel state that a medical officer may supersede the chain of command whenever the captain’s health is at stake.”

That serene confidence you exude when slipping into ‘competent medical professional’ still comes as a shock, given what a fuck-up you are most of the time.

“Told you this–nnnnngh,” he growls through clenched teeth, and you can’t be sure whether it’s a reaction to your coy defiance or the sting from the antiseptic spray. “This is not a crew. And I don’t remember giving you a rank, officer.”

“Universal law of the galaxy,” you reply, washing clotted blood from the dark hairs along his thick, ropey thigh. “Saving the captain’s life earns you a promotion.”

For the second time that night, the Mandalorian lets out a huff of laughter. One of these days, you're going to elicit a hearty chuckle from this man, and he won’t know himself.

Before long, a comfortable silence sets in while he watches you clean the wound. The stiffness you used to feel under his gaze is softening. Amazing, how much has changed in the last few days.

“Could you force me to follow orders?” He asks suddenly.

The challenge in his words, spoken in that low baritone, catches you by surprise, stirring something deep in your belly. The sensation drags lower, an ache building between your thighs.

“Confined you to bed with my dark powers?" You arch an eyebrow. "Why go to all that trouble, when—”

You have to shake your head to clear out the smut. There is no way he intended that as a come-on. “I…um, suppose I could have put you into a coma until you healed. But, no. I can’t compel you to do anything against your will, Mandalorian.”

Like, convince you to fuck me! Nope. Stop that. It takes a moment to recover from the surging thrill of arousal.

“Don’t worry,” you say brightly. “We’ll do this the old fashioned way. Turns out a city devoted to gladiatorial combat is a thriving market for medical supplies. I’ll remove the stitches, slap on some Synthskin, and in a day or so, you should fully recover.” Despite the torn sutures, the gash remained clean, and the Bacta had prevented any infection. “Assuming you can avoid any more brawling.”

“Brawling?” He huffs again. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but very nearly.

Ugh. Why did one, not quite a laugh from Mando, feel worth a thousand coming from anyone else?

It'll be a relief to end these intimate check-ins and changing bandages. That’s what you tell yourself. It's time to reestablish some distance and tone down the flirting with your boss.

Sure, it excites you to think you might be the only person in the galaxy who knows that the Mandalorian has an outie belly button. But that’s exactly the problem, isn't it? Winking at him from across a bar table is one thing. The unspoken status quo starts to feel a little too fragile when you’re in this kind of proximity to his abs.

“I’ve applied some topical analgesic, but this will still pinch.” You flash him your most dazzling smile while holding up your second-best pair of tweezers in one hand, surgical scissors in the other.

“So, what’s going to be our topic of distraction? Shall I have you list all the planets in the Otechi system?”

“Hmmm,” his satisfied humming makes the modulator crackle. “Erenada...”

“What did you say?” Your fingers, usually so adept at pulling loose the silk threading, suddenly become clumsy.

“Erenada,” he repeats. “Every man–or woman–swears in their native tongue. Erenada is Hapan. It means—”

“Obviously, I know what it means.” Blessed Mother. She who has no equal. It was the honorific for the Empress of Hapes, revered as a living goddess. Though coming out of your mouth, it's usually intended as blasphemy. “You’re very proud of yourself for figuring that out.”

“Imagine my confusion since everyone on Dorumaa told me you’re Miraluka.”

You raise both eyebrows and smirk, reminding yourself to breathe slowly through your nose so he won’t catch you panicking. “Are you referring to the first time I saved your life, Mando? Honestly, I should be a lieutenant by now. You almost bled out in my kitchen.”

“That’s what Ingtar told me—that you're a Miralukan healer.” His tone is not accusatory, and you don’t feel threatened, but the shift in conversation doesn’t feel like simple, friendly curiosity, either. “So, did you lie to Ingtar? Or did he lie to me?”

“Why are those the only options?” You laugh nervously and shrug in what you hope is a convincingly innocent gesture. “Ingtar made an assumption. Guess that explains why he was always so protective. Did you know he once shot a man defending my honor?”

You're avoiding the subject, and Mando knew it.

“I mean, okay, I do have great tits. Didn't change the fact there was no way to reattach that tentacle afterward—”

Mando raises a hand to stop your inane babbling. You have this unfortunate habit of talking too much when you panic. Because, at this point, you are definitely panicking.

“Miralukan healer is a good cover for why you never take off the visor,” he continues.

Damnit. He's too observant.

“Mando, I’m sorry if that’s why you hired me—thinking I was Miraluka.” Have you seen something you shouldn’t? Violated his Creed? He never takes off so much as a glove in front of anyone else.

But, why would he be sitting here like this, with so much of his body exposed beneath you, if it was forbidden?

“Hmmm, though I can see how Mandalorian and Miralukan would make a perfect match.”

Did you say that out loud?

“In a patient—um—medical context,” you add in desperate clarification. “Look, Mando, Black Sun needed someone to operate off the books, no questions asked. Forgive me if I didn’t volunteer information about my heritage to a criminal cartel.”

“That I can understand,” he says roughly. “What I want to know is why you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Breathe through your nose. Steady, shallow breaths.

“I’ve been on this ship for months, Mando. Just because you weren't interested in hearing my backstory doesn’t mean I hid it from you.” And the bounty hunter can’t argue with you there—he’s never bothered to ask.

“I’ve taken an interest,” he says, and his tone made clear that he had no intention of letting this go.

“Then join us for cards later, and this will feel like a conversation rather than an interrogation.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “So Nito knows you’re from Hapes?”

“Nito’s never heard of Hapes,” you say coolly, despite the flush of your skin. “I’m surprised you have since we’re about as rare in this part of the galaxy as Mandalorians.”

Then, a thought occurs to you. “The stories about us veer a little more toward the...pornographic?”

He’d doubtless heard the tales of women captured from across the galaxy by pirates to be bred on Hapes as bed slaves and concubines.

“Have you been visiting the brothels on Keyorin, Mando?” You tug your brows teasingly. Every pleasure house across the Outer Rim claimed to have a Hapan in its menagerie. It was a favorite topic of discussion around fringer bars and gambling tables.

It’s a stupid ploy to rattle him since you’re pretty sure celibacy is a Creed tenet. Or maybe he did visit brothels? Who's to say what the bounty hunter got up to when he was out on a job? Still, you’ve watched plenty of women proposition the Mandalorian. And he never humored them. He just waited until their hand dropped away, their gazes fell and shifted.

“Is that where you learned Hapan, Mando? Whispers in the dark?”

If you thought you could throw him off balance with some lewd sarcasm, he remained dauntless as ever. With one hand, he grabs your arm by the elbow. Hard.

“Mando, what the—”

“You’re clever, but not consistent. When I got back to the ship after the job on Naboo, you’d fallen asleep in the cockpit watching the sunrise. Miraluka can ‘see’ without eyes, but I don’t think that includes horizons. And you sure wink a lot for someone without eyelids.”

Shit! A wave of anxiety surges in your stomach, bile scoring your throat like it might drown you. He’s been chewing on these suspicions for quite some time.

“And speaking of your eyes–”

His other hand moves up towards your face. Reflexively, you grab hold of the visor, nearly stabbing him with the scissors in your haste.

Letting go of his grip on your arm, he calmly raises both hands in a sign of truce.

“Okay,” Mando nods, taking your reaction as confirmation. “Always thought your tattoo must be Black Sun. Didn’t recognize the markings before. Never got a good look until a few days ago…”

Trailing off, his helmet turns toward the weapons locker behind you, where he’d spent hours holding you in his arms like a cherished treasure, your bodies tangled together on the cargo bay floor.

Guess he does remember that part.

Kriffing hell! You are such an idiot for thinking the Bacta haze would just erase the whole thing from his memory.

What had Tigran said? That life on the run required constant vigilance. It was like something out of a folktale. The moment you forgo caution to be close to him, the Mandalorian catches you out immediately.

“Where would you have ever seen—?” You begin before it all slides into place. “Oh, right. Tigran.”

You hadn’t meant to say that name out loud. Instinctively, you look over your shoulder, terrified that you might actually conjure the mercenary from across the quadrant to emerge from one of the shadows behind you.

“He’s in the Guild, too, right? I bet all you hunters must know each other.” You force yourself to sound casual, as though saying that name didn’t just turn your blood cold. If Mando knew Tigran Vildar…well, that explained why he was wary of coming under your influence.

“I know him.”

When it’s clear you’re anxious for more details, he continues impatiently, “We met working a job together. On Telkur Station. They had us clearing out some separatists occupying the hyperlane.”

“The Dark Cloud Uprising was…you were there?”

Hapes was only one planet amidst dozens of systems hidden beyond the Transitory Mists, but they ruled the Cluster with brutal efficiency. The Hapes Consortium quickly thwarted any insurrectionist ambitions—no matter how futile—by annihilating them completely.

“I see. They brought in a bounty hunter to rescue the hostages, so they could just...massacre everyone else?”

“Something like that,” is Mando's only response.

“Well, I guess as long as the Consortium can rely on Tigran for some extra-judicial killing, he’s welcome to spend the rest of his time freelancing with the Guild.”

“How do you know Vildar?”

Then you realize, “Wait! Is Tigran your connection to Black Sun? Is that why you were working for Ingtar?”

“Other way around," he snaps. "I asked, how you know Vildar?”

“Like I said, there’s not many Hapans living beyond the Cluster.”

“And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“The question game, Mando, is intended to keep you distracted while I take out your stitches,” you say, gesturing towards his mangled thigh. “Did you really take off all that armor just to sit here and gossip?”

Shaking his head in irritation, he nonetheless readjusts his seat on the bench and allows you to continue working.

“So,” repositioning the tweezers. “You want to talk about Hapes? Regale me with the propaganda Tigran fed you while you were on the Consortium’s payroll. I’m very interested to hear how they justify our isolation from the rest of the galaxy.”

“My clients don't explain themselves,” he says firmly, shifting his back against the hull. Yikes! Just how many people looked over their shoulder when the Mandalorian came to mind?

Finally, he relents. “What I know is mostly legend. They say that the Hapes Cluster was colonized by Lorell pirates who prized...beautiful women, captured to populate their settlements hidden beyond the Transitory Mists.”

It takes a minute for you to notice that Mando is a little uncomfortable. After all, here you are, a descendant of those women stolen from across the galaxy to be bred by ruthless profiteers. Was he thinking about how he’d grabbed you moments ago? Ashamed by his own rough entitlement?

“After expelling the raiders, Hapans sealed off their borders. The gravity wells and ion storms surrounding the Cluster are impossible to navigate without a Consortium pathfinder. Even after their treaty with the New Republic–nnngh!”

“Just a few more left,” you lie, feigning concentration.

“That’s all I know,” Mando says. “Never saw anything beyond the station.”

At first, you tease. “It might have jeopardized some plausible deniability if they had issued you a tourist visa afterward." Then you sigh, looking up from your work to be sure he understands. “They claim the enforced isolation is necessary to preserve our utopian society. But their real concern is that you might discover pathways through the Mists. That you could sell that information to smugglers and break their monopoly.”

“Exactly,” Mando's sudden shift in voice seemed to announce that he had finally arrived at his point. “That's why Hapans aren’t allowed to leave the Cluster. If you know Vildar, then you know he works for the Consortium, hunting down those who do.”

Stay calm. Focus on the task in front of you.

“I’ve helped Vildar catch a few,” Mando presses on. “Bounties are always high.”

“A bounty is a fixed cost compared to all those unpaid tariffs and docking fees,” you grin, heartbeat pounding against your eardrums.

“Hapes was neutral during the war against the Empire. I’m surprised they let you leave to join the—farrik!”

“Sorry! Last one.” You pulled out that final stitch with more vigor than was strictly necessary, eager to steer the conversation away from how exactly you ended up on this ship, a million parsecs from the Cluster.

“All done!” you chime in a hollow voice, tugging off the latex gloves. “I’ll prepare the Synthskin, which you can apply yourself if you'd like.”

You lean back onto your heels to stand up when the Mandalorian wordlessly grips the edge of the bench. He swings his legs around and shifts himself forward, trapping you inside the space between his thighs. They frame the edges of your vision—one clad in gray, the other bare golden skin—as you stare, paralyzed by your own terrified reflection in the black surface of his view plate.

That dull ache between your legs throbs again. You should be scared. Instead, you're so wet it's slicking your thighs.

Despite the surging panic, you rearrange your face to appear merely surprised rather than frightened while the Mandalorian holds himself over you.

“For someone who isn’t hiding anything, you're very good at dodging my questions.”

Alarm and desire course through you in equal measure, waiting for what comes next. He might pull you into his arms, extend some comfort toward a fellow lost soul crossing the galaxy—or he could throw you roughly to the ground for deceiving him.

And you can’t be sure which you want more.

“You’re a hunter, Mando. What could I possibly hope to hide from you?”

“Exactly. I’m impressed you’ve kept up the disguise for so long.”

“I wasn’t–”

“Then take off the visor,” he says in a clipped tone. “Vildar doesn’t wear one.”

“When you look like Tigran, I guess you don’t worry about flaunting it.”

Mando tilts his head suspiciously, “How do you know Vildar?”

Did you imagine that flicker of jealousy in Mando’s modulated voice? Good. Better he thought sex was the only thing between you and the mercenary, Tigran Vildar.

“I just meant…he’s like you. Intimidating. Neither of you is worried about being snatched off the streets to be sold to some flesh-peddler or warlord. Though I’m sure a Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin broth—”

“That would never happen." His fierce sincerity cuts through your sarcasm like a blade, leaving you defenseless. "I would never let that happen to you.”

“O-okay, Mando. I’ll take it off.” There isn’t much point in refusing since he’s already seen you without it. So you reach a hand up to your temple. “I just hope the irony of this situation isn’t lost on–”

You gasp when he grabs hold of your chin, pulling you closer inside the circle of his thighs so forcefully that you have to brace a palm against his knees to stop yourself from falling forward.

His grip is firm, but the tension in his hand is delicate, as though holding something precious. The tip of his forefinger rests just under your jaw. He tilts your head up, then side to side, to catch the ambient light glimmering across the reflective layer of your eyes.

Could he see their color through the helmet’s view plate? A deep violet sheen, covering both the iris and sclera. Two glowing orbs, their luminescent gleam distinctively marking you as a true Hapan from the Cluster, one raised under the dim light of the nebula.

You’re doing your best not to fidget under his fixed attention, wishing you could shake off this awkwardness and confidently gaze up at him to embody the vision of Hapan beauty the entire galaxy is so fond of mythologizing. But the longer his silence stretches, the deeper your insecurity grows…

“Have you considered that I wear the visor as a courtesy?” You shift tact, trying to sound offended. Maybe you could shame him into backing off the subject. “Glowing eyes tend to make people uncomfortable. Especially humans.”

You knew that much about him, at least—that he was human. This wasn’t intended as a threat but a reminder that you've been observing him, too.

“If you actually worried about making me uncomfortable, you wouldn’t walk around my ship in your underwear.”

The air in your lungs evaporates as though the wind’s been knocked out of you. Your head snaps back out of reach, suddenly very conscious of his fingers on your face. For a second, you wonder if you’ve heard him right.

“Are you–?!” You scoff. But, of course, he's always serious.

Impressive, how quickly he’s turned the tables on you. Now, you’re the one who’s worried about being offensive. Your robe feels too short, the fabric thin and threadbare. Okay, so sometimes you duck out of the sleeping compartment without putting pants on, and some of those times, he has seen you.

Which is maybe–might be–inappropriate.

“You’re right,” clearing your throat, absolutely mortified. “It’s unprofessional. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“Did you hear me say that?”

Is he fucking with you? Gods, he is impossible to get a read on. You can’t be sure it’s his intent, but the rising sexual tension is very problematic for your composure. Don’t forget that interrogation is part of his profession.

“Go naked,” he says, taking your chin in his hand again, a bit more forcefully this time. “Just don’t lie to me.”

“What is it you’re–?”

“Look at me.” The Mandalorian speaks in the same gruff tone he used to intimidate his quarry—a threat of biting steel and cold fury.

It’s hard to maintain composure, kneeling on the floor between his thighs, thinking about the strength in his grip, the crushing force of his arms. How hard he could pin you to the ground and fuck you.

You look straight into the opening of his view plate, knowing that he’s glaring right back at you, scrutinizing every flutter, watching each blink and twitch of muscle.

“What do you want from me, Mandalorian?”

“Are you on Vildar’s list, Thulani?”

Mando hardly ever says your name. It sounded so smooth on his lips despite the distortion of the modulator. How many times have you wondered what it might sound like to hear him gasping it in the dark?

“No.” You reply, summoning as much poise as you can muster.

“I told you not to lie to me.” His fingers squeeze tighter around your jaw, the heel of his hand pressing into your throat. You’re not…not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve never been on the receiving end of his threats before.

“No, Mando, I…” you stammer, feeling your larynx slide against his rigid grip.

“You really think I would hand you over to that monster? Is that why you–”

Your heart clenches, hearing the hurt in his voice. “Is that why I what?”

He doesn’t bother answering.

“Okay. Yes. I am wanted by the Consortium, Mando. But I’m not one of Tigran’s targets. We have an…understanding.”

For once, you’re grateful that you can’t see his face. You might not withstand the look of disgust—or worse, pity—while the Mandalorian imagined all the ways you debased yourself to escape Tigran Vildar.

Let him think you earned your freedom on your back. It was preferable to the truth.

“Are you worried I’ll give him the kid?” You ask, instantly horrified. “Is that what this is about?”

“What?! No,” he replies immediately, his gloved hand falling from your face. He draws back onto the bench, and suddenly, you feel cold without the heat of his body surrounding you. “I know you would never endanger the Child. But to keep you safe, I need to know what’s coming.”

“You mean apart from every other mercenary in the galaxy?” A nervous bout of laughter bubbles in your throat. Dammit, Thuli, must you turn everything into a joke... “Mando, I–”

“Does he have some means of tracking you?”

“Tigran? No. Why would he? I mean…they must think I died in the explosion.”

“And he’s not coming for revenge?”

Now, that does deserve a laugh. “Wow! Um, no. Trust me, believing I’m dead makes Tigran’s life much easier. He’s not…” You glance up at the cockpit overhead, “....he’s not coming for me.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that amongst the abstracted threat of mercenaries hunting for the kid, there might be a face you’d recognize.

“Some monsters are worse than others, Mando. I think he would spare the Child. If it came to that.”

He pauses. Another agonizing moment spent in breathless silence.

“Is Vildar why you were on Dorumaa?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, eager to show him how cooperative you can be.

“How does a Hapan royal, turned Alliance rebel, end up working for Black Sun?”

“Ha! I am no royal,” but there’s a bitterness in your voice the laughter can’t quite hide. “That tattoo? Tigran and I are not part of the Court, Mando. We belong to them.”

If he wanted to see some honest emotion from you, he need only look at the hatred written all over your face.

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” he says wryly.

“It’s a long story,” you sigh.

“I’m sure it is.” Mando tucks his arms across his chest, indomitable.

“The Rebellion was desperate enough to send a half-trained refugee into the field. Getting a government job with the New Republic wasn’t quite as easy once they realized I'm technically a fugitive. Bureaucracies require a lot of paperwork, Mando. Criminal cartels do not.”

“And they recruited you?”

“I was in some trouble…and Tigran took me to Dorumaa. The Miralukan disguise, the visor, was for my protection. He asked Ingtar to set me up with a job. Things were going pretty well until you burned down my apartment.”

“You saved us that day,” he says. “And now I know what it cost you.”

There’s the barest hint of apology in his voice—which is about all you get from the Mandalorian.

“I would do it again.” Despite your best efforts, you choke up a little, saying, “Please believe I would never betray you, Mando.”

“I know. That’s not what this is about, Thulani.” Then he snorts, “Is that even your real name?”

“Thulandahra,” you say in a small voice. When was the last time someone called you that?

“Thulani ?—not a great disguise.”

“Because I wasn’t hiding it from you,” fighting the tears pressing against your eyes, “I swear I would have told you everything–I will–but what…what is this about, Mando? Why are you asking me all this now?”

“You said you were in some kind of trouble.”

Now, who's dodging questions?

“Do you need my entire life’s story this very minute?”

“Fugitive.” And you can hear him doing the calculus. “So you found a path through the Transitory Mists to escape?”

Okay, deep breath in. “Yes.”

“Because you stole a pathfinder from the Consortium?”

Aaand, let it out. “Yes.”

What more would he ask? If you know how much it’s worth? If you’d already sold it?

“Not by yourself,” he muses. “So, the Consortium wants you for stealing a Pathfinder—tech that you can’t even use since you don’t know how to operate a starship.” It wasn’t a question. “Don’t worry, the irony isn’t lost on me.”

And for once, without the visor on, he can truly appreciate the rich theatricality of your eyes rolling up towards the heavens.

****************************

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