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hwaightme · 6 months

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Timezone

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🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone…” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

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𝙲/𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎

Ft. Gol D. Roger, Rayleigh, Ben Beckman, Shanks (This can be when they were younger or older idc)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Cockwarming, Fingering, Kissing, Dirty Talk(?)

Roger

Gol D is such a simple man when it comes to you and your pussy.

If you offer to sit down on his cock as he drinks the night away he’ll be over the moon

“Roger, we’ll be in front of the crew though…”

“Yeah, well…we’ll also be in a corner and you’ll have this pretty dress on.”

His infamous smile showing his deep dimples behind that nose hair of his never failed to make you roll your eyes and agree to his slutty plans.

You and him now cozied up as the party goes on his ship, his tip softly hitting spots in your pussy that makes you softly whimper whenever he adjusts his hips in his seats

“You’re like my personal little heater.” He hums drunkly in your ear, nearly about to grope your breast but you slap his hand

“Shut up Roger!”

Rayleigh

Big…Big..he’s so big.

It’s not the length that Rayleigh has that gets you it’s the GIRTH.

Whenever he offers you to sit down and say still it’s purely out of punishment.

“Seems I spoiled you too much today huh?”

You squeeze down at his words, his musky natural scent and his breath hitting your ear as you sat so painfully still on his lap as he read—

“Porn. Really…you’re reading fucking porn.”

“Ssssh.” He kisses the pout you have on your lips and a firm swat landed on your butt right after making your nude body jolt against his. “‘M reading, now.”

You knew if you rocked Your hips against his you’d be in trouble. You knew, and he almost read your mind from the glint in your eyes staring down at the wet mess connecting you both.

Rayleigh knew you wouldn’t last keeping him warm. You never do, so when he felt your pathetic ruts against his body he smiled. Giving you what your pretty supple body wanted this while time.

Picking you up swiftly you hold onto his wide frame, feeling him place you on his fluffy bed to then hold your legs as far apart as they can be. He spits on your little clit, thumbing it to soothe the tense feeling of his cock still inside you.

He was right. He spoiled you too much.

Ben

You both love to do it after sex

Purely because it lead to more sex.

Benny is an affectionate/touchy man when it comes to you. Your body and the softness of it always gives him a cloud 9 kinda of feeling that he refuses to let go of

“Stay.” Is all he says when he keeps you under him, his head in your breast, every once in a while licking/kissing on your bruised nipples from prior events.

As full as you already were, the way how his body caged you in, the way his hair felt in your hands, his warmth and weight. You didn’t mind it.

Sometime he will switch positions, leaving you on top and him leaning on the headboard so he can smoke, he’ll rub your nude/sweaty back to soothe you back to sleep.

However—

“Whatcha doin’?…hm?”

He felt you grind against him a little, kissing his neck, maybe it was the hint smell of your pussy in his breath, the way his fingers lingered on your ass when he rubbed you, or maybe you’re just THAT needy but—

“Wan’ more…” Your whispered, embarrassment creeped in your face realizing you both been at it since this evening and its such a late hour.

Benny smiles, bringing your chin to his mouth and shotgunning you before both of your tongues played with each other. His kisses were always so sweet, but messy.

“Use me then…” Benny laid flat on his back, one arm behind his head, “‘M all yours.”

Ben was never a man to tell you no

Shanks

You swear it’s because he is a pervert but really he loves to be close to you.

It usually never ends with sex, he can fall alseep right then and there when he plunges inside you.

It was a rough day, running around, training, stealing, you name it. It was a lot for Shanks.

You both are in your shared room, getting ready for bed after taking a quiet calm bath together, he watches you lather your body up, Damn—-you looked so good

But he was so tired, he didn’t want to ask you to ride him, it seemed selfish to use you for his own satisfaction but

He needed you.

“Sweetheart…Can…can you sleep with no panties tonight?”

Usually you would have scoffed at his offer, sounding like a pervert again but his voice was tired and his eyes were drowsy. You approach him, cupping his damp cheek and he leans in to kiss you slowly.

“Of course.”

He gave you his shirt to wear and you did, he decided to just stay in the nude.

You lay on your side, and almost immediately when shanks gets in the bed he plants his lips on yours, passionately kissing you, leaving you to moan in his mouth as he plays with your clit a little.

“So wet already…” He marvels, lifting your leg a little he shares a “fuck” with you, you’re so warm and tight, so eager to suck him inside.

You can hear his sigh of relief as he settles inside you from behind.

“Thank you baby.” He pecks your neck, you were exactly what he needed after today

He knew in the morning he’d have to thank you with his tongue.

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn.

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate.

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug.

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli.

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold.

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship.

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction.

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit.

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present.

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed.

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked.

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his.

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.”

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship.

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore.

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging.

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry.

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm.

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated.

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting.

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran.

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help.

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured.

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with.

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love.

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him.

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured.

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #dark!din djarin #female reader #reader insert

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tarjapearce · 4 months

Text

Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun. Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

Taglist:

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#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #astv miguel #gabi o'hara #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #x reader #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara fanfiction #pirate au #mermaid au

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rollinouttahere-writes · 29 days

Text

Lucky Break Chapter 5

Yandere Straw Hats x Fem!Reader

4.6k words

Beginning / Previous / Next (to be written)

A partial night of rest did little for you. Your head was still killing you, and the dreamless, fleeting sleep did nothing to aid in jogging your far away memories.

Nami was kind enough to let you stay in her boat for the rest of night, and you were still on it this morning. You didn't feel confident in your ability to cross boats again now that the wind had picked up and the waters were slightly rougher. The last thing you wanted was to fall into the ocean again right after getting a change of clothes.

You watched with mild amusement as Nami and Luffy bickered about the Grand Line. Well, Nami was bickering. Luffy was dismissing everything.

“How do you expect to so much as make it into the Grand Line as you are? You have no supplies, no ship, and only two people. You're even more insane than I thought you were if you think that's a good idea.” Nami returned her attention to the map in her hands, muttering under her breath about pirates being a nuisance.

Luffy shoved the rest of the apple he was eating into his mouth, core and all. Cyanide poisoning be damned. He did appear to at least be taking her words into consideration, which was an improvement. “Yeah, we're going to have to get some meat before we go.”

You snort at the exasperated look Nami shoots him. Of course that was what he was hung up on. Luffy cooked his head to the side, “And what do you mean I only have two people? There's four of us.”

“I am not a part of your crew, this is just a temporary alliance. I'm not about to sail into the Grand Line with anybody, much less someone as in over their head as you are.” Nami pointed at you, “And Lucky doesn't count. She doesn't even remember her name, what are you expecting her to do?”

“What's that got to do with anything? She doesn't need to remember her name to be my crewmate.”

“She's got a gaping head wound! She needs to see a doctor, not get dragged into the most dangerous place on the planet by a delusional captain!” Nami picked up and chucked an apple at his head. An extremely ineffective attack given that he just opened his mouth and ate it whole like some sort of snake-person.

“Maybe we'll find a doctor on the next island, and then she’ll be good to go.” Luffy perked up, “Are we getting close to one yet? I want to get some food.”

The navigator's eyes flitted back down to the map. She still looked annoyed but answered his question, “Yes, we should be at the Gecko Islands soon.”

Luffy cheered and whirled around on his perch to stare into the distance. You followed his gaze and saw a speck of an island in the distance. Being on solid ground again sounded lovely. The unsteadiness of being on a constantly rocking boat felt extremely unnatural to you. Based on that, you felt safe in assuming that you had never spent a prolonged period of time at sea before this.

And of course, you were looking forward to the possibility of seeing a doctor and having your injury inspected and cared for by a professional. Zoro definitely needed to see a doctor, too, what with his stab wound.

Though, as you glanced at him, he appeared to be entirely unbothered. The only thing that even hinted at what had happened was the hole and bloodstain in his shirt. Other than that, he seemed fine. Shit, maybe he can sleep off stab wounds. If only you could do the same for your injury.

Luffy kicked his legs in excitement as the island drew closer. “We can get supplies here, and maybe even a new ship! Oh! We might even get some new crewmates! We're going to need a cook before we get to the Grand Line. And a musician.”

Having a cook around made sense, though you were more than a little baffled at him prioritizing a musician over a doctor. Well, whatever. He’s the captain, not you. He can recruit whoever he wants, and you’re sure that he will. Especially considering how much he’s been brushing off Nami stating that she isn’t a part of the crew.

The two boats hit sand as you finally make it to the island. You’re at some empty beach far away from the docks. Nami insisted that this would be for the best considering that her ship has Buggy’s jolly roger plastered over the sail. You jump off the ship and help pull them further onto the beach to prevent them from drifting away.

Being on solid land feels just as good as you had expected. The sand has a give to it, of course, but it isn’t constantly rocking back and forth. You stretch as you scan your surroundings. The beach is boxed in by cliffs, with a manmade walkway leading into a lightly packed forest that helps to hide your ships further. Someone would have to go out of their way to find you guys here.

“The village isn’t far from here, right?” Luffy was looking around excitedly, no doubt eager for a chance to stretch his legs. You were, too. The island appears to be normal and peaceful. It’ll be nice to explore a town without a bunch of pirates in it… you guys notwithstanding, of course.

“Yes, it shouldn’t take long to get there,” Nami answered passively while scrutinizing the map in her hands. “I wonder where we could find a ship.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s find a place to eat first!” Luffy was actively drooling as he spoke. You’re not sure how anyone can be so hungry after eating what you’re pretty sure was in the ballpark of twenty apples, but you aren’t about to try and get between him and food.

Nami pushed him out of her face harshly, “Would you stop talking about food for five seconds?!”

Your attention was drawn away from them as you saw movement up on the cliffs. You squint and see several bushes rustling from what you’re assuming is some local wildlife. Zoro unsheaths a sword behind you and steps forward.

“Careful… I think we have company.”

That catches everyone’s attention. Nami tenses and steps back while scanning the forest herself, while Luffy is visibly excited about whoever could possibly be here. To you, Zoro seems to be over reacting. It’s more than likely just some animals running around, you’re not sure why he’s instantly jumping to this being an ambush or something.

Then someone starts shooting at Luffy’s feet. Perhaps Zoro was onto something. He scrambles to get out of the way while Zoro rushes forward to help. Before you even have a chance to react, Nami grabs you by the collar of your shirt and drags you back to the boat before shoving you into it and climbing in beside you to take cover. You cough and gasp as she releases your shirt.

The attack stops, so you and Nami peer over the side of the ship to see what’s going on. Luffy and Zoro appear to be fine, thankfully, but now a bunch of flags are popping out of the bushes. All of them have the same jolly roger on them. Ah. So much for you thinking that this island was pirate-free. You just hope none of them have any weird-ass super powers to contend with.

This display does nothing to intimidate Luffy, who by all accounts seems to be having a grand time watching this. A boy suddenly emerges from behind a tree, looking extremely pleased with himself. Some of the tension leaves your body as you are distracted by the fact that this kid has the longest damn nose you’ve ever seen. You didn’t think that was physically possible. You shake your head, reminding yourself that now is not the time to be getting distracted by appearances.

Long-nose crosses his arms and puffs out his chest proudly. “I am Captain Usopp! Leader of the pirates who reign over this village! I’ll have you know that everyone here fears me as much as they sing my praise! Which is a lot!” He gestures behind himself with a dramatic flare, “Go ahead and forget about attacking this village, it’s under my control! Me and my eighty million subordinates won’t let you get far!”

Eighty… Eighty million? You and Nami share a sideways glance at each other. That seems… a touch far fetched. The island doesn’t appear big enough to hold even one million people, much less eighty million plus the villagers. Now that you think about it, It’s odd that he didn’t name drop his crew. He just called them “the pirates”. You let out a sigh and slump against the boat, relieved that this appears to just be some display rather than a real threat. Nami pinches the bridge of her nose, looking annoyed more than anything, and Zoro puts his sword away with a huff.

Luffy, meanwhile, is star-struck.

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable!” Nami calls out to him.

Usopp gasps, stumbling back in shock, “How did you know?!”

Nami rolls her eyes, “And now you’re admitting to it this easily? You’re terrible at this.” She climbs back out of the boat, and you’re quick to follow suit. You glance up the cliff to see Usopp beating himself up for failing miserably at his intimidation attempt.

He whips back around to face all of you again, trying desperately to save face. “Well, maybe I was exaggerating a little bit, but I can assure you that I do have some very powerful men at my disposal!” He points at a cluster of bushes not far from him. Unlike the rest of the flags, the ones coming out of the bushes were moving, implying the presence of at least a few people.

Still, those bushes weren’t particularly huge. You can’t imagine that there were that many people hiding in them. You squint, “What? Like three people?”

The literal second you say this, precisely three people spring out of the bushes looking aghast at your accurate prediction. These “powerful men” looked to be a bunch of kindergarteners, who screamed in terror and ran away immediately while Usopp yelled after them not to leave him here alone. Another impressive victory under your sword-belt, you suppose.

Luffy looks at you in awe, “How did you know?”

All you offer him is a simple shrug and say, “Lucky guess?”

Nami sifts through the sand and pulls out some tiny pellets. She examines them with absolutely no sense of urgency. “Huh. I’ve never seen a pirate captain use a slingshot before.”

Usopp gasps and clutches his chest in offense, “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t insult me!” He pulls a slingshot from his bag and takes aim at her. Nami stares at him blankly. “I have a lot of pride in my weapon! So much so that people call me ‘Proud Usopp’!”

You’ll give him this much: he doesn’t abandon the bit easily. You call out to him, “By people, do you mean yourself?”

Now Nami’s comment didn’t seem all that bad to him. Usopp changed positions to aim at you instead, “Many people call me that! In fact, they call me ‘Proud Usopp’ more than ‘Captain Usopp’ because they’re that impressed by my pride!” He pulls the leather pad holding another pellet back further. “Behold! You’re about to see that my slingshot skills can put a pistol to shame!”

Given how many other things he’s lied about or exaggerated greatly, you aren’t scared. The pellets that he shot at Luffy had some oomph to them, sure, but comparing them to bullets fired from a gun seems excessive. Getting pelted by some pellets is hardly going to be the worst injury you’ve endured.

Before Usopp can decide if he really wants to fire at you or not, Luffy steps in front of you with the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes. His voice drops to a surprisingly low tone as he addresses Usopp seriously for the first time, “Now that you’ve drawn your “pistol”, you’ve put your life on the line.”

Both you and Usopp gawk at Luffy. Usopp was clearly scared by the sudden mood shift, and even you felt a chill run down your spine. You’re so used to seeing Luffy be carefree and goofy that hearing him openly threaten someone in a genuinely intimidating fashion has completely thrown you for a loop. On top of that, you feel confused. Nothing about this scenario feels heavy enough to warrant this kind of a response.

“You don’t use those to threaten people.” Luffy makes a show of loudly cracking his knuckles while maintaining intense eye contact with Usopp, who is now looking like he’s really regretting his previous actions.

Zoro grinned and stepped forward, just barely unsheathing a sword, “You’re dealing with real pirates now… Are you prepared for that?”

This is escalating quickly. You lean over to Nami and whisper, “Should we stop them?”

Nami did not share your concern. She examined her nails, barely even sparing you a glance, “No. He’ll lose his nerve before it gets to that.”

For a long, tense moment, there is silence as Usopp is stared down by Luffy and Zoro. Then, just as Nami predicted, he caved. The pellet slipped out of the slingshot and onto the ground. Usopp fell to his knees immediately after, looking thoroughly shaken up from the exchange. His hand clutched his chest as he muttered about how much scarier the words of real pirates are.

Mercifully, the tension dissipated instantly. Luffy dropped the disconcertingly serious look from his face and laughed loudly. “I stole that from Shanks! Your dad is Yassop, right?”

Usopp reels back at that question. “You know Shanks?! Wait- You know my dad?!” He clambers forward, but he isn’t paying attention and tumbles right over the side of the cliff. He rolls the whole way down, landing ass-first at the bottom. You wince, swearing that you felt some of that. The fall does little to deter Usopp, who quickly gets to his feet and stumbles closer to Luffy. “Yassop is my dad, but how did you know that?”

Luffy opens his mouth to answer, then stops abruptly. “I’ll tell you, but you have to take us to the nearest place to get food first.”

The deal was immediately accepted by Usopp, who nodded eagerly, “There’s a tavern not far from here, I’ll show you the way!”

Luffy followed close behind, cheering at the promise of food. How he intended to pay for it, you weren’t entirely sure, but who were you to ruin his excitement? No one else seemed concerned about the financials of this meal, so you suppose you shouldn’t be either.

Zoro casually trails behind Usopp and Luffy, while you and Nami were at the back. You two walked in silence while you mulled over something. This wasn’t the first time you’d heard the name Shanks. You can recall hearing the name thrown around while Luffy was duking it out with the clown-guy… Bucky? Boogie? You shake your head. That doesn’t matter.

Was Shanks someone important? Or was he coming up a lot purely through a series of coincidences? The name wasn’t ringing any bells for you, but given that you couldn’t remember your own name, that really wasn’t saying much. There’s only one way to find out the truth about him.

“Hey, Nami?” You wait for her to glance your way, acknowledging your inquiring tone. “Who’s Shanks?”

Her eyes widened, “You don’t know who Shanks is?”

You raise a hand and tap near your head wound, only to flinch at the pang of pain that shot through your head from that action. Oh, that was stupid.

Nami sighs, “You really don’t remember anything if you don’t even recognize his name.” Her face turns to a sneer, “He’s some bigshot pirate that’s worked his way up to being an emperor.”

The answer only served to confuse you more. “Emperor? What does piracy have to do with being one of those?”

“It’s just a title, he isn’t a literal emperor.” She waves her hand dismissively, “Don’t think about it too much. The less you know about pirates, the better.”

Aren’t you kind of a pirate now? At least by association. Not to mention that you’re traveling with two of them. Something tells you that Nami wouldn’t care for you pointing that out, so you continue to walk beside her in silence.

A large wooden sign with the words “Syrup Village” is sticking out of the ground once you’ve walked through the small forest. The village itself was small and quaint, possessing a sort of rustic charm that made it feel homey even if you've never been here before. Unlike Orange Town, this place was clearly populated. The local villagers milled about, going about their daily routines. It was a pleasant change of pace.

Usopp beckoned all of you into a small tavern. There weren't any customers inside, just an elderly man sitting behind a counter, and what sounds like a small staff in the kitchen.

“I have a lot of influence here. Go on and take a seat, I can handle the rest.” Usopp hurried over to the old man and started giving him some spiel about how you guys were a part of his crew, and thus, deserved only the best. The old man didn't even look up from his newspaper, but was nodding along anyway.

Nami picked out a booth for you all to sit at. Zoro slid in next to her, while you sat at the bench across from them. You glanced over to see Luffy sticking his head into the kitchen, apparently having not listened when Usopp insisted on handling everything. He was demanding an obscene amount of food, more than you thought all of you could reasonably eat in a week, much less one sitting.

As soon as he was done ordering enough food to make it feel like its own lunch rush, he bounded over to your booth and plopped onto the bench next to you, visibly elated. Usopp joined a moment later, dragging over a chair so he could sit at the head of the table.

“So, how do you know my dad?” Usopp was staring at Luffy expectantly.

Luffy perked up, “Oh, right. He was a part of Shanks’ crew, I saw him a lot growing up.”

Usopp's jaw dropped. “He's a part of Shanks’ crew?!” He kicked his legs under the table, a dreamy look on his face, “So that's where he's been.”

You quirked a brow at that statement. He didn't know where his own dad was? Did they never see each other? Or at least talk once in a while? You're surprised he doesn't look more bitter about it. You think that you would be if you were him.

There's a pang in your head, and your eyes go fuzzy for a moment. It's a sharp pain right behind your eyes. You put your face in your hands and massage your temples, trying to will away the pain and cloudy vision.

You're startled slightly when you feel someone lightly kick you under the table. You pull your face from your hands only to find Zoro staring at you questioningly from across the table.

“Everything alright?” His face was casual, so much so that it could be mistaken for disinterested, but it felt like his eyes were staring into you.

“I'm fine, I'm just… hungry.” Complaining about a headache felt childish, so you kept it to yourself. These people are being needlessly kind to you, you don't want to start annoying them and risk making them change their mind.

Zoro stares at you hard, and you get the impression that he doesn't believe you. He sighs and brings a pint of beer up to his mouth, “Well you better eat something quickly before Luffy gets it all.”

Hang on. You look at the table and finally take notice of the drinks and plates of food on it. When did these get here? You thought you only had your head in your hands for a few seconds… how did you not even hear the dishes being set down?

You really need to see a doctor.

A plate of food and some water are slid to you by Zoro, who apparently thought you were taking too long to make a move. You mutter a quiet thanks and gulp down some water before digging into the food. Hopefully having something of substance in your stomach would make you feel better.

Something was tickling at the back of your mind, but not clearly enough for you to make anything of it. The faintest whisper of a voice and a bizarre feeling of empty loneliness hung over you despite being surrounded by people. The responsible thing to do would be to focus on the essence of a memory that was trapped beneath the surface of your mind, begging to come forth. You should be trying to bring it to the front and realize it for what it was. But… apparently the person you're supposed to be isn't one for responsibility. You shove more food into your mouth and push the thought down. That memory didn't feel very pleasant. You try to focus on what’s going on around you instead of that.

The table is lively, unlike your foggy mind. Luffy is happily recounting childhood memories of Yassop while Usopp hangs onto every word of it, completely rapt in the stories. Luffy is also choking down an obscene amount of food at a cornering rate. You're not sure he's even chewing any of it given how fast he keeps going back for more. No wonder Zoro was insistent on you eating sooner rather than later. Another minute of hesitation and you would have been shit out of luck.

Nami finishes the rest of her drink and levels Usopp with a stare, “Say, you wouldn't happen to know where we could get a ship around these parts, would you?”

“A ship?” Usopp hums in thought for a moment, then stiffens up. “I wouldn't know anything about where to get one of those. This is a small village. We don't even have many ships passing through, much less up for grabs.”

“What about the people living in that mansion up on the hill?” Zoro nodded his head in the direction of it. The large home was in clear view from where all of you were seated. “Surely someone in a house like that has at least a few caravels at their disposal. Maybe more.”

Dishes clatter on the table as Usopp abruptly stands up and slams his hands down. “You can't go there!” His shout and sudden mood change startles everyone. Just as quickly as he became upset, his face dropped into a more bashful look. “Oh, would you look at the time! I have very important business to tend to, bye!” And with that, he sprinted out of the building, only reappearing briefly as he sped past the window.

What was that all about?

Nami sighed sharply. “What's got him so worked up? He ran out of here so fast that I just barely managed to grab this,” she held up a small, leather wallet.

“Nami!” You attempted to scold her, but the smug look on her face told you that your words meant nothing.

“What? He said he'd take care of everything, and that includes paying the bill. I'm just ensuring that he keeps his word, that's all.” Nami barely even glances at you before opening it up and counting the money. Based on the way her face contorts, you're guessing that it isn't as much as she was hoping for.

Luffy didn't appear to be even slightly concerned about that. He was happily licking the plates clean. Including yours, which was a little weird, but whatever. Not gonna ruin your day.

When you hear the door to the tavern open again, you don't think much of it. It's not until some little kids storm up to your table wielding wooden toy swords that you decide to pay attention. It dawns on you that these are the same kids you scared away earlier at the beach.

“W-What did you do with our captain?!” The boy with green hair asks the question as if he is already assuming the worst. All of the kids are shaking like chihuahuas while trying to act tough.

“Man, I'm full! That was some really good meat!” Luffy flopped against your shoulder heavily, having apparently finally satiated his massive appetite. The boys stared at him in abject horror.

“Your captain?” Zoro's once neutral face curled up into a surprisingly sinister grin. He leaned forward, making the children almost trip over each other to back away. “We ate him.”

The children grew deathly pale, screamed, then promptly fainted into a heap on the floor.

“Zoro!” You kept switching between looking at the incapacitated children and the swordsman. “Why would you say that?!”

All that he does is chuckle, looking awfully proud of himself for terrorizing some little kids. Luffy is laughing loudly at the whole spectacle, and Nami is staring at both of them incredulously but also not doing anything about it. You huff and climb over Luffy to check on the boys. While they do look horrified, even in their unconscious state, they appear to be fine physically speaking. You glare at Zoro, “That was mean.”

Your attempt at scolding is once again entirely ineffective. He waves his hand dismissively and downs the rest of his pint, “It was just a joke. If they want to be pirates then they should be able to handle it.”

“They’re little kids. They probably want to be something different every week.” There will definitely be a change next week after having a run in with what they believe to be cannibalistic pirates. You crouch down beside them, shaking one of them gently in hopes of waking him up. He starts to stir and cracks open his eyes behind his glasses. He blinks a couple of times, then focuses on you. For a moment, he stares at you dully. Then his eyes snap open wide and he yelps as he scrambles backwards.

“Calm down! I’m not going to hurt you,” you hold up your hands like you’re dealing with a scared animal.

This does nothing to quell his fears. He tries to get to his feet quickly, and you don’t have a chance to warn him before he cracks his head on the table he clearly didn’t realize he was under. Once again, he falls to the floor unconscious.

“Oh, shit!” You curse and scramble over to him, wanting to check and make sure he isn’t now suffering the same kind of brain damage you’ve got. You lift him up to get a better look at his head, when you hear dramatic gasps.

“She’s got Tamanegi! They’re going to eat him next!” The other boys have woken up and are back to hysterics.

“NO! No one is getting eaten!” You glare at your crew that is doing nothing to help and is instead laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Would one of you help me here?!”

Zoro laughs loudly at your demand, “No, it looks like you’ve got it covered.”

You can’t believe these are the people you’re stuck with.

#lucky break #monkey d luffy #luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #usopp #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #platonic yandere

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quintessencewrites · 8 months

Text

Yes, Daddy pt. 4

stud! Riri x stud! Shuri x black! fem! reader

Who else did they take together in the backseat of Shuri’s SUV?

How many times did Riri use her tired-ass pick-up lines?

How many girls had gone to Wakanda and been fucked in Shuri’s childhood bedroom?

Warnings: ANGST!! SMUT!!! 18+, spanking, degradation, explicit language, praise kink, daddy kink, mami kink, dom! Shuri, switch! Riri, sub! reader, mentions of cheating, reader gets with a man..., rough sex, edging, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), choking, strap slinging Riri, alcohol use, squirting, fluff, probably some that I missed

Word Count: 13.1k + (you guys have no idea how excited I am about that)

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @shurislover @6-noir @ihearttish @vampzxi @verachii @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @pocketsizedpanther @shuris3leg @bellaallebbella1

Riri couldn’t remember a time when she’d slept so soundly. Nightmares and restless nights grew up with her, and slumber evaded her, creating a habitual insomniac out of the poor girl. Shooting up from bed in a cold sweat and slight shiver wasn’t out of the ordinary. The creak in Riri’s bed, when she tossed and turned through the night, is what finally caused her roommate to abandon ship and move out.

Riri was free to ignore sleep all she wanted in the comfort of her loneliness. She could turn and toss without complaint. Her bed could squeak and creak as much as she pleased. She could flip her pillow to the cool side over and over and over until the sun came up.

But at that point, why try to sleep at all?

It didn’t make much sense, so she didn’t. Instead, she filled her night with bodies. A presence to ward off the loneliness. Something to do in the darkness.

Her bed still creaked and squeaked, and she still tossed and turned, but this time, she wasn’t alone.

It didn’t matter much to her who the person was; she wouldn’t remember their name in the morning anyway.

And they’d be out of her bed long before that. Riri didn’t do sleepovers.

Then came along Shuri Udaku.

And Riri had her first sleepover since childhood.

And her first friend.

And the sleepless nights got better. The nightmares didn’t go away completely, and some nights, sleep still dodged her, but with Shuri present, Riri could rest, really rest, for a few hours.

They could be at each other’s throats all damn day, but when night came, they held each other in silence, bodies together, fingers laced. The only sound Riri focused on was that of Shuri’s heart against her ear.

On the nights that Shuri spent in her own room, keeping her own company, Riri went back to strangers in her bed to keep her sane until the sun came up.

But those nights were so long gone that she couldn’t even see them over the horizon. Years of doctors and sleep aides, essential oils, and so much melatonin when all she needed was you.

The weight of your body atop hers, the slow, steady rhythm of your breaths, the way you sighed in your sleep and curled into her. Damned be to the prickles in her arm when your head rested upon it for too long and the way your legs tangled beneath the sheets.

She didn’t sleep well unless you were in her bed, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that she needed you there.

The first time you fell asleep there, you saw Riri’s brows relax, the permanent wrinkle that resided between them fading. You made it a habit to take up space in her bed whenever you could, to watch with a slight pride, knowing that wrinkle only disappeared for you.

Riri welcomed the feeling of waking up to you beneath her, your hair in her face, and the scent of you in her bedding. She could wake up with that for the rest of her life and die a happy woman.

So, waking up without you that morning was jarring. The wrinkle returned, and confusion clouded her sleepy eyes.

You were there when she fell asleep; she was sure of that. The sound of your light snores caused her to doze off. Your bonnet lay abandoned on your pillow.

It only took a moment for her coppery gaze to focus, and when they did, you came into view.

You paced the other side of the room in silence, a trail of heat following the path you’d made in the carpet. Your knee-length braids swung behind you in the rhythm of your movements. The screen in your hand illuminated your darkened face with a faux blue light, but it was enough for Riri to notice the pinch in your brows and the way they drew together the more you scrolled.

You were far too engrossed in whatever held your attention to notice Riri sit up and rub the sleep from her eyes. Worry was pooling in the depths of her stomach as she looked over at the clock on her desk. The LED numbers were too fucking bright, 1:15 am blaring across the screen.

A groan crept from the back of her throat. You two had only slept two hours, and that itself was a blessing; Riri could kiss her chances of falling back asleep goodbye.

“Why are you up, ma?” Her voice was deep, groggy, and soft as it traveled across the room toward you.

Your head snapped in her direction, but only for a moment. “Our phones been blowing up,” you replied lowly, talking more to the phone than to Ri. “Surprised that didn’t wake your ass up.”

Riri glanced at her phone on the desk next to the clock but made no move to grab it. “It couldn’t wait til the sun was up?”

Your silence wasn’t an adequate answer, and dread rose with Riri’s worry. “Is it Shuri?”

She was a part-time college student, part-time princess, and she still had duties back home that couldn’t be tended to across oceans. It was supposed to be a short trip, only a few days to handle her shit and return. But a few days was now two weeks with no end in sight.

Both you and Riri were feeling the effects of Shuri’s absence, though Riri wouldn’t outwardly admit it. The distance was hard, and the time difference was harder. Days would go by before any of your schedules aligned for so much as a twenty-minute FaceTime.

Even now, it was nearing the thirty-hour mark since either of you had spoken to the princess.

Riri didn’t think that anything was wrong; Shuri could sure as hell handle her own, and what she couldn’t handle, the Dora Milaje could.

Your scoff was an ugly sound, anger embedded within it, and Riri flinched. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

You crossed the room with quick steps, falling to the bed beside Riri and shoving the too-bright screen in her face.

“You seen this?”

Riri peered at the phone behind squinted eyes, hoping the blurry image would adjust.

When it finally did, Riri found herself staring at a video. It was hard to see, clearly taken from the phone camera of a fan’s shaky hands in a dark nightclub.

Shuri was never hard to spot; Riri had grown accustomed to having to pick the princess out in crowds swimming with people. She looked good, and Riri’s heart beat a bit harder beneath her chest. Shuri sported a black suit like it was uniform; she never failed to impress in them. Dark shades were glued to her face despite her being indoors and it already being dark.

Riri couldn’t help the brow that shot to the top of her head at the scene playing out for her. She knew Shuri could catch ass; she’d witnessed it more times than she could count, but goddamn.

“Goddamn,” her words parroted her thoughts, strained and breathy. She took the phone from your hand and brought it closer to her face. Ass was being thrown, and Shuri was catching it expertly. They moved in tandem, Shuri with one hand laced around the girl’s waist, the other in her hand.

Riri couldn’t count how many times she watched the video; she just knew the two of you sat there in silence while it played. That was, until you broke her trance, scrolling further down until an image appeared.

And once again, it was Shuri, head held high with a jawline sharp enough to slice and a slick smirk accentuating her cheeks. The girl sitting in front of her was resting her head against the panther, eyes shut, lips pursed. Riri’s eyes were bugging out of her head at this point. She was fully awake.

“Kehlani?” Her gaze shifted between you and the photo, eyeing it as if it would come to life. “She catching ass from Kehlani?”

Your lips were pursed, and you were quick to snatch the phone back from Riri. “It’s all over the place. Twitter, Instagram, damn TMZ.”

“What the hell?” Riri whispered, mostly to herself. How Shuri always found herself in these lucky positions, she had no clue, but Ri made a mental note to start accompanying her on business trips.

“And we getting tagged in this shit across the board, Ri. They calling Shuri greedy, saying she got a harem and shit.”

“What the hell?”

“Some of ‘em saying she cheating on me with you, you with me, and both of us with fucking Kehlani.”

“She ain’ cheating on nobody-” the words trailed off into nothing, Riri stopping short at the venomous look you were currently throwing her way.

“You okay with her catching ass from Kehlani?”

Riri could’ve laughed out loud; what a fucking sentence.

“Nigga, it’s Kehlani-”

“So?”

“So, I wish I was catching ass from Kehlani-”

Riri wasn’t getting a word in inch-wise in this conversation. You cut her off again, “Okay, let’s say it’s not Kehlani. You okay with her catching ass if it ain’ from me or you? You think she fucking her?”

Riri shrugged, finally reaching for her own phone. “You just described Shuri’s weekends, baby.”

You went silent for so long that Riri looked up from her device to make sure you were still there. She wasn’t expecting to meet your gaze. Your mahogany eyes, usually lit up with a smile, were dull and hot with the inferno that burned behind them. “What?”

Riri recoiled, thrown by the way your question burned her. She rose from the bed slowly, readying herself to backtrack, though, truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong. “What, baby?”

“So when she not here with us,” your index finger pointed from Riri back to yourself. “She catching ass from other bitches?”

“Catching ass, getting ass.” Riri had the audacity to shrug again. “Not like she used to, but-”

Poor Riri should’ve just put her foot in her mouth at that moment. You stepped forward, closing the space between the two of you, and Riri allowed her hands to rest on your hips. The breath she didn’t know she was holding released when you sunk into her touch.

“And you’re okay with that?”

Riri tilted her head to the side, her tongue swiping her lips before she responded. “We ain’ never been exclusive, baby-”

“We who?”

Riri had to suck back the sigh she was about to release. “Me and Shuri-”

“It ain’ just you and Shuri no more, Riri-”

She was unaware of how rough her movements were, of how she lightly scratched you when she reached to cup your cheeks. “Quit interrupting me, baby.”

You tore Riri’s hands from your face like they burned and shoved her back a step. She stumbled, and you almost reached out to catch her before she steadied herself. Her shocked eyes met the fight building in yours. She could see the deep red line, only about an inch long, that lingered on your cheek where her hands once were. “Shit, baby-” She took a step toward you and you took a step back. “I-I’m sorry.”

Her apology went in one ear and out the other while you tried to level your breathing. The two of you stood perfectly still, gazes locked on one another.

“So Shuri ain’ just fucking me or you? There are others?”

Riri knew there wouldn’t be any good way to answer, but you gave her no chance to anyway.

“Are- are you-?” You glanced over to her bed, imagining how many other bodies had taken up space in it, wondering how many had lately.

Riri’s voice was small, pleading, “We ain’ never-” She stumbled over her words.

Your anger was growing, your nostrils flared, and your eyes narrowed. Had you been a cartoon character, steam would have been blowing from your ears. “The two of you gave me the fucking silent treatment until I agreed to go public with you, but we not fucking exclusive?”

Riri had never been so silent, so unsure.

“Shuri been fucking outside of us? You been fucking outside of us?”

Riri just stared at you. That’s okay, though. Her silence was enough of an answer.

She felt her heart physically break when your voice did. “And y’all okay with that?”

Riri found her tongue, though it probably would have been better had she not. “You not?”

Her body visibly recoiled when a deep, insincere chuckle left your parted lips. Panic flooded her tiny body when you started moving about the room, collecting your belongings and throwing them into the black duffle you’d arrived with.

She took barely two steps to reach you, reaching into your bag to throw the contents back to the floor. “Stop, baby, stop!”

You just silently collected your items, not wanting to stay any longer.

Riri snatched the bag from your hands and turned it upside down, dumping all of your things onto the floor. “C’mon, baby. Listen-” She might as well have been talking to a brick wall, and her already damaged heart broke further at the sight of you on your knees, picking your possessions up one by one.

She dropped to her knees with you, trying desperately to grab for your hands, which you kept snatching away from her. “Listen to me, baby. Stop, please-”

Her beg was so pathetic it froze you in place, and you allowed yourself to look at her through your lashes.

“Me and Shuri been doing this for so long, baby, we didn’t know-” She stopped short, halting her words behind her bit bottom lip.

Riri started again. “I didn’t think-”

“Clearly-”

She ignored your jab and continued. “Me and Shuri ain’ never been exclusive, baby-”

The rest of her sentence floated through the air, never reaching your ears. Her and Shuri. That’s all you were hearing; it sent ice through your veins. Her and Shuri were never exclusive. They weren’t exclusive before you, and they wouldn’t be exclusive during you.

What a foolish girl you were, to have found this out so late. For a year and nine months, they’d been fucking you and each other, and Bast knows who else.

Who else did they take together in the backseat of Shuri’s SUV?

How many times did Riri use her tired-ass pick-up lines?

How many girls had gone to Wakanda and been fucked in Shuri’s childhood bedroom?

You searched for the answers behind Riri’s eyes but found nothing.

She bit back a sob when your hand slipped from hers, but the shock in her face when she saw yours bore a smile dried away all her tears. “Baby?” she whispered.

Your eyes were sad, and your cheeks strained, but the smile never fell. “It’s cool. We not exclusive; you and Shuri never was.”

Riri’s brows drew together. “Did you even hear me-”

One hand rose to silence the girl before you while the other went back to gathering your items from the floor. “I get it.”

Riri’s voice was full of sorrow. “Then why you still packing?”

“I think I wanna sleep in my room tonight-”

“Y/n-“

Something deep in your chest panged hard, hearing your real name roll off her tongue with such dejection. It took everything in you to swallow the feeling down. Your tongue felt like lead, weighing heavy with your next words: “It’s alright. You’ll find somebody else to fill your bed tonight.”

Your hand waved the words away as though they meant nothing, but they knocked the air straight from Riri’s lungs in a gasp that pained you to hear.

She watched with wide eyes and a face full of hurt as you stood, turning towards her with your bag thrown over your shoulder and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s cool, Ri.” You whispered with such false confidence you didn’t even believe what you said. “I’ll hit you up later.”

Panic rose like bile in Riri’s throat when you reached for the doorknob. “Baby-“ she tried again. Her plea was so soft it actually stopped you in your tracks. Fictitious hope washed over her when you took a step back, walking toward her.

Her arms reached toward you out of instinct, waiting for you to fall into them.

But you didn’t.

Your lips pressed to her cheek softly, and Riri held her breath. In 21 months, she’d welcomed your kisses, the feeling of your lips on any part of her body.

This time, she hated it.

It felt so empty, so final.

Riri hated it more when you pulled away, further and further, until you were out the door, and there she stood in her dark room, alone, with the video of Shuri at the club playing on her discarded phone on a continuous loop.

The weight of the world rested heavily on the Princess of Wakanda’s shoulders. She’d only been home for three weeks, but every second there reminded her why she’d left.

Sure, she missed her family, and she sure as hell missed her lab, but nothing soothed the ache in her chest that came with missing you.

And yeah, she missed Riri too, but Ri would have to pry that confession from her.

Shuri had been slacking, which was an unusual occurrence for the girl. She hadn’t come close to keeping her promise of constant contact while she was away, not even daring to count the days since she’d last spoken to either of you.

That would all change soon, she thought. The Talon Fighter was growing closer to campus, and she could not wait to get back.

The moment her feet touched American soil, they took her in the direction of Riri’s room. Every time she had spoken to the two of you, that’s where you were residing, so with any luck, she would be greeted with a welcome committee.

It was the middle of the day, and campus was crowded, with frantic students rushing to class or somber ones leaving. Regardless, it took Shuri close to fifteen minutes to reach Riri’s door in what should have been a five-minute walk.

Her knuckles rapped against the solid door with urgency.

When it didn’t open right away, she raised her hand to knock a bit harder, but the door swinging ajar stopped her short.

Riri had opened the door and walked back to her desk, more interested in whatever she was working on than on who was visiting her.

“What kind of ‘welcome home’ was that?”

Shuri’s smooth words pulled Riri’s head from her computer, but only for a moment. She didn’t pay the Wakandan any mind as she slipped into the room, shutting the heavy door behind her. “Ri? Hello?”

Riri barely mustered out a “Hey. Welcome home.”

Shuri peered around the room with a raised brow. “Where’s y/n?”

Riri lifted her head long enough to glance at the clock on the wall. “I’m assuming class.” Her voice was whispered and muffled and just didn’t sound like Ri at all.

She sounded more like the girl Shuri had found crying in the hall all those years ago.

And that caused the pit in Shuri’s stomach to swirl with dread.

When Riri stood to retrieve something from the other side of the room, Shuri followed. “You not happy to see me?” She teased, trying to edge Riri back into their usual banter.

She didn’t take the bait, ignoring Shuri instead. It didn’t look purposeful; Riri just seemed too engrossed in her own thoughts.

Shuri stepped closer to the smaller girl, closing the space between them until Ri’s back was pressed against the wall, and Shuri’s hand on her waist kept her there.

The other hand trapped Riri’s head in place, palming the wall beside it. Shuri bent from her full height, leaning until she and Riri were face to face, so close that Ri was forced to stare into the mocha chasm that was Shuri’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Gone from Shuri’s voice was the sarcasm from before. There was no teasing, no short quips.

Riri sank into Shuri’s touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

It was a rare intimate moment between the two, and Riri would rather relish in it, even if for a moment, than ruin it with words.

But Shuri wasn’t letting up. She removed her hand from the wall, moving it to grip Riri’s chin, forcing their faces closer until their foreheads kissed.

“What happened, Ri?”

Riri welcomed the softness, even basking in it for just a second before she lightly pushed Shuri away.

Shuri took the hint, taking a step back but not allowing the space between her and Ri to grow too large. Her eyes swam with concern, searching Riri’s face for an answer her lips weren’t providing.

Riri’s tiny frame shook with emotion. Her fingers tensed, her hands running across her face with such a desolate sigh it almost sprang tears to her eyes.

“I ain’ seen y/n in bout a week.” Her confession only rang slightly true; she’d seen you around campus, between classes, and in the caf, and each time, you acted like you hadn’t seen her.

Like you couldn’t feel the intensity of her stare on your back, burning a Riri-sized hole into you with a fiery glare.

You hadn’t texted, hadn’t called. When she went to your room and knocked, you didn’t answer.

It scorched Riri to see you going about life without her. Almost like you hadn’t needed her to begin with.

But Bast, did she need you. Riri hadn’t slept all week, and she knew it was written all over her face.

The dark circles that decorated her under eyes looked as though they weighed a ton, and the wrinkle in her brow had taken up a permanent residence.

Shuri paused for a moment, letting Riri’s words settle in the air between them.

“Fuck you mean you ain’ see Y/n in a week?”

“Exactly what I said.” Riri fell into the chair behind her desk with a thud.

“How you ain’ see her in a week, Ri? Last time I talked to you-“

“Over a week ago-“

Shuri continued as though Riri hadn’t spoken. “You two were here. Together, I saw you.”

Riri took a beat to take a deep breath and released it slowly before replying. “Yes. And she saw you.”

Confusion riddled Shuri’s sharp features. “She saw me?”

“Yeah, nigga, she saw you. The whole damn internet saw you.”

Shuri was stunned into silence. She knew exactly what Riri was talking about, and wave after wave crashed over her. Embarrassment, disappointment, and confusion rippled, and Shuri’s eyes squeezed shut, hoping to escape the uncomfortable feeling.

“And it upset her?” The end of her sentence fluttered upwards with perplexity.

The princess hadn’t seen a problem with her actions at the time. She partied often, and she partied hard. Shuri was known for catching ass on a good Friday night, and this had been just that.

Sure, more girls had seen the inside of Shuri’s dorm room than she might have liked to admit, but she hadn’t been ashamed of it.

Not until she learned it upset you.

She really had slowed down, though, since becoming involved with you. Hell, she’d slowed down since she and Riri had started fucking. What used to be one or two girls a night quickly morphed into none over multiple months.

But Riri didn’t know that. She still thought Shuri’s reputation preceded her, imagining that she was keeping the same company as before.

In reality, the Wakandan native’s interest in anyone else was long gone.

Images of your face that night flashed through Riri’s memories.

You, pacing the room, looking absolutely heartbroken.

You, on your knees, picking up your things.

You kissing Riri’s cheek before pulling away from her.

Riri’s poor heart ached at the thought, and in came the now familiar feel of her throat growing tight and her eyes stinging with salty tears.

She quickly blinked them away, turning to face Shuri with a sigh that sounded like it contained all the world’s sorrows.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly. “Yeah, man, it upset her.”

Add disgust to the abundance of emotions Shuri was currently feeling. She cursed herself aloud for making you feel that way. She could just imagine the way you held your head high, refusing to cry with a quiver in your lip that only she would have noticed.

How you probably departed with a broken smile on your face.

It was eerie how right she was.

She gulped, attempting (and failing) to wet her suddenly very dry throat. “Did she say anything?” Shuri asked through the scratchiness.

Riri looked over with blank eyes. “Said so much I couldn’t get a word in.” A hush fell between them before Riri spoke again. “We gave her the silent treatment until she agreed to go public, but we ain’ commit to her.”

Shuri winced. Yeah, they had done that…

“She ain’ asking for much, man. She just want us.”

Shuri’s long legs carried her to Riri’s bed with ease. She fell to the mattress with a soft thump before speaking. “Okay,” she said plainly.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, Ri. She want us,” Shuri’s shrug left Riri speechless. “She got us.”

Riri’s mouth fell open with the weight of Shuri’s words. “Simple as that?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Riri stood to her feet, letting them lead her to Shuri, still on the bed. Her hands hesitated for a moment before resting on Shuri’s clothed knees, her eyes shining with forgotten tears. “Nigga, don’t play with me right now.”

A small smirk threatened to curve the ends of Shuri’s lips upward. She used one hand to support her weight on the bed and the other to push Riri’s kinky curls away from her face.

Riri was getting ready to ease into the gentleness of Shuri’s touch when the princess tangled her fingers at Riri’s scalp and pulled hard.

Ri’s head fell back with a sharp tug from Shuri, exposing the entire length of her neck. Her lips parted in shock, and the breath she inhaled had no way to escape with Shuri’s lips so dangerously close to Ri’s ear.

“You got soft while I was away,” Shuri whispered. It was just the two of them in the small room; no one would have heard her.

Riri fixed her mouth to say something smart, but Shuri cut her off. “I missed you.”

It was a sincere moment. Shuri’s voice still hadn’t reached octaves above a whisper, and the look she gave Ri was enough to send a tingle down to her toes.

Shuri hopped from the bed, her hands steady on Riri’s hips before releasing them with a prompt nod. “C’mon. Let’s go get our girl.”

She’d barely made it two steps before Ri’s tiny hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. “Wait,” she called.

Shuri turned, her eyes landing on Riri with the same intensity as before. Her chest caved with each deep breath, and her expression looked pained, scared even.

“We doing this? We getting serious bout each other?”

Shuri truly moved with the grace of a panther, retreating swiftly, encapsulating Riri’s face cupped in her hand.

They were so close they stole each other’s breath. Shuri’s gaze flickered between Riri’s lips and her eyes, not able to decide which was more worthy of her attention.

Riri’s breathing paused altogether at the sound of Shuri’s chuckle ringing in her ears. “We been doing this how many years, Ri?” Riri’s bottom lip tucked into her mouth clenched between her rows of perfect teeth.

Shuri tutted quietly, using her thumb to roll Riri’s lip back out.

She didn’t move her finger nor her gaze from Riri’s deep brown lip before she spoke again. “Who’s to say I wasn’t already serious about you?”

The knocking at your door hadn’t subsided, and it was driving you fucking insane. You burrowed further into your comforter, tugging at the heavy blanket until it swallowed you whole.

You made no conscious movements to answer it. Getting up and going to class had exerted all of your remaining energy this past week, and you didn’t have any left to entertain company. You weren’t getting up until tonight when it was required of you.

Maybe whoever it was would take the hint and leave.

They didn’t.

Muffled voices on the other side of the door were your only warning before it opened so harshly that the handle indented into its adjacent wall.

Your body shot straight up, speechless. The blanket fell, pooling at your hips, and your eyes widened three sizes.

Riri’s footsteps were nearly silent as she strolled in, hands in her pocket, with a stoic expression.

Shuri stepped in behind her, and your already large eyes grew to the size of saucers. Hers were glued on you, noticing the way they sparkled at the sight of her.

The steps she took toward you were timid, and your breath collected in your chest the entire time it took her to cross the small room.

“Sthandwa,” she spoke directly toward you, her native tongue sounding so much stronger after the time she spent home.

The tiniest whimper escaped your lips, and the irritation on Shuri’s face was wiped away with a smirk. Her hand made its way to your face, cupping your cheek and smiling even wider when you fell into her touch.

“You missed me,” Her words were low, for your ears only.

The moment that passed was a shared one, just between you and Shuri.

You almost nodded, admitting how badly you had missed her.

And then your eyes closed.

And you remembered why you’d put yourself through a week of hell.

You remembered why you were avoiding Riri, ignoring Shuri.

You remembered why you were going out tonight with someone who wasn’t them.

And what was a soft smile on your face curled into the nastiest of snarls.

Your body straightened, pulling your head from Shuri’s hand and retreating until your back touched the wall, and a mountain of pillows distanced you from the princess.

Her demeanor just about crumbled when your eyes cut sharply from her and landed on Riri, who still stood a couple of feet away with an unreadable expression etched across her features.

“Y’all broke into my room?”

It was more an accusation than a question, and it oozed with venom. Shuri fought back a flinch, and Riri dug her hand from her pocket, revealing a gold key swinging from her index finger.

“Not breaking in if I have the spare.”

“It’s breaking in if you weren’t invited.”

Riri tossed her hand back in her pocket and joined Shuri beside your bed, leaning forward until her elbows dug into the mattress. “We ain’ come here to argue with you, y/n.”

Ri had spoken your name more times lately than she had all the months you’d been together, and you hated it. The hairs on your arm stood on end, and your vision turned blood red.

“Shouldn’t have come at all-”

Shuri’s hand around your neck evaporated whatever else was about to roll off your tongue. You begrudgingly focused your gaze on her, shocked to see amusement swimming in her eyes. “Who are you talking to like that?”

Your lips remained sealed in defiance, and Riri shook her head with a scoff directed towards you.

Shuri’s fingertips were digging into the side of your throat, tugging you toward her. It was a gentler touch at first, but then you had to be hard-headed and try to fight it. Her hands gripped tighter, pulling you harder, and the dark spots that started to attack your vision told you to obey.

You fell on all fours, staring up at Shuri behind lashes so long, they almost touched your brows. She removed her hand, allowing air to reach your lungs again, cursing under her breath.

“Fuck,” she breathed out. Even Riri had to bury her bottom lip between her teeth to avoid speaking her thoughts aloud.

You looked fucking delicious, seated on hands and knees, glaring up at them. Heat burned deep in Shuri’s chest, heaving with deep inhales. “Come here,” she commanded.

Shuri’s tone left no room for attitude, but that didn’t stop you from having one. Your eyes rolled, and your knees planted in place with a wiggle of your hips.

Even Riri’s brow rose at the action, and she turned to Shuri with a question behind her eyes.

Shuri’s glance at Ri was quick and filled with an unfamiliar husk. She looked back at you, speaking to Riri while her eyes burned such heat into yours that you had to look away. “She wanna be a brat? That’s fine-” The smile that Shuri bore filled your stomach with fear. “We can tame a brat.”

She opened her mouth again, this time to speak to you. “Come. Here.” Her words sent a noticeable chill through your body, and you rose to just your knees, getting ready to swing your legs around and scoot to the edge of the bed, where Shuri and Riri stood.

“Uh, uh,” Shuri shook her head at you, smiling wider at the confusion on your face. She stood taller, shoulders back, spine straight, chin tilted, truly like royalty. “Crawl to me.”

This time, it was your brows that shot to your hairline. The heat that was burning in her belly moved south, and with a gulp, you found yourself crawling, slowly and seductively, until you were face-to-face with Shuri’s torso.

You stared at it for a moment too long, and she fell into a squat, aligning her face with yours. She was so close, the smell of her cologne almost bringing tears to your eyes. You inhaled deeply, wishing you could commit the scent to memory for the next time Shuri left.

“What’s wrong with you, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Hm? Why you acting like this?”

You were still.

A minute passed, then another, and you refused to part your lips and address her.

“Silent treatment, baby? Forreal?”

The room was quiet.

“You being childish,” Shuri mumbled, standing to her full height again.

She moved to sit beside you, and you watched with interest.

With swift movements, Shuri was next to you, reaching for your wrists.

It all happened so quickly, her tugging your arms sharply until you laid on your belly across her lap. You gasped, further pressing your torso into Shuri’s thighs.

One hand held your wrists out in front of you as though you were swimming while the other caressed your ass through your shorts.

Her touch was too soft, a stark contrast to the rest of her movements. You made the mistake of relaxing in her grasp, allowing your guard and attitude to fall completely.

Poor you.

A sharp slap sounded throughout the room, followed by the sharp sting that radiated through your right ass cheek. And just as quickly as the strike came, it went, covered by Shuri’s soft massage.

The way your mout h fell open to form a little “O” was so cute. Shock, and anger, and desire all fueled the fire that was burning in your lower belly, igniting and growing it further.

“We gonna work on you and Riri’s ‘Welcome’ next time, baby” Another harsh slap, this time to the opposite cheek.

Riri spoke up, her voice sounding like a squeak. “You could always take us with you next time.” She barely got the sentence out without a moan escaping. Her eyes bore into the scene before her, wanting so badly to rub away the pain Shuri was inflicting.

Shuri smirked at Ri before turning back to land another hard clap on your ass. “What you think, baby? Wanna come with me?”

Her words and her actions weren’t lining up. The way she spoke to you was so tender, as though the three of you sat in a coffee shop having a pleasant conversation.

The way she assaulted your ass said otherwise. You were writhing under her touch, with a wetness that pooled between your clenched thighs uncomfortably.

Another slap, then she continued. “We spend weeks together, relaxing by the water. I could take you on the Royal Talon Fighter. Fuck you right on the floor while we’re in the air”.

Another slap. “Riri fingering you in the pool.”

Slap. “I’ll sit you on my throne, where you belong, and eat you until you cry.”

Slap. “Sound like a plan, Ri?”

Riri was in a fucking daze. She could smell your arousal, and it was so hard to resist planting her face between your legs, inhaling your scent deeper. She struggled to mutter so much as a “yeah” in response to Shuri’s question. She wasn’t even sure she’d been listening.

Shuri’s attention fell back to you, and a deep groan escaped her chest. You were a mess. She could feel how hot your body had grown in the short time you’d been pressed against her. You were still quiet, but her ears picked up on the soft whimpers that you thought no one could hear. Your body was practically vibrating.

An insatiable need swam in your eyes, falling over your cheeks and down the side of Shuri’s leg.

“That sound like a plan, baby?”

You remained quiet, the sound of her hand clapping your ass echoing in the room.

“I don’t like being ignored, y/n.” Shuri must’ve lost her mind and left it in Wakanda, using your real name like that. It just made you dig your heels in further, refusing to give her a verbal response.

She shook her head, turning to Riri to speak again. “I been gone three weeks, and you let her get all defiant and shit.”

Riri snapped out of her trance at the accusation. “I ain’ let her do shit-”

“You did,” Shuri removed her hand from your ass to point toward your nightstand. “Grab her vibrator from the drawer and come fix your shit.”

Your head shot up at Shuri’s words. A part of you was relieved the attack on your now swollen ass cheeks had stopped. The other part was full of dread. You needed to fucking come, but there was no way Shuri was going to make it that easy on you.

She lifted your limp body with ease, shuffling around until you were in her lap, back pressed to her heaving chest. You winced a bit at the stinging sensation that traveled down the back of your thighs, but Shuri’s padded fingertips drawing circles in your abdomen was enough of a distraction for you to relax a bit.

Her lips peppered up and down the length of your neck, stopping every now and then to nip at your tight skin. “Imma hear that pretty voice one way or another, baby.”

She grinned at the shiver her words sent down your spine and lifted her head to see Riri starting back toward your bed with your massive pink wand in hand. Your knees lifted to your chest without thought, and Shuri planted her hands on them, prying them apart until the wet spot in your shorts was visible to Ri.

Her breasts bounced with the way her chest heaved at the sight. Your grey shorts were noticeably darker around the spot that bore your cunt, and your dark thighs glittered with your own slick.

The sudden cool air that hit your pussy shocked you, and your thighs clenched, trying to close in response. They barely moved with Shuri’s hands in place.

She didn’t even acknowledge your failed attempt, instead nodding her head at Riri. The smaller girl looked as though it pained her to look away from you, and it did.

“What?”

“Come here.” Riri glanced over you one more time, then started stepping closer to the bed. Shuri ducked her head, taking your ear lobe between her teeth before speaking lowly. “See how she listen the first time?”

Riri rolled her eyes but climbed onto the bed anyway, kneeling beside you and Shuri’s bodies flush against one another. “What?” she asked again.

Shuri let go of your thighs, snaking an arm around your torso to hold you in place while the other tugged on Riri’s curls, luring her closer and closer and closer until she and Shuri’s breaths became one.

Shuri leaned up, pressing her lips against Riri’s with a moan. The delicacy of the kiss didn’t last long, and the strain in your neck as you turned and watched them wasn’t enough to peel your eyes away.

Riri’s tongue darted out first, sloppily tracing over Shuri’s before she reached to grasp the back of her head and deepen the kiss.

Your moan at the sight was music to their ears, and Riri pulled away, gracing you with a smile before Shuri’s hand on her chin pulled her back. Shuri’s lips brushed Ri’s as she whispered, “I ain’ get to kiss you properly since I been back.” She let her gaze linger on you with a side-eye before she turned back to Riri. “We had other things to deal with.”

Riri’s nose scrunched up, her curls swaying to and fro with the shake of her head. “And I’m the one who got soft?” she asked with a scoff.

Shuri ignored Ri. “Lemme taste her off your lips when you finish.”

Riri’s stare at you was hungry. She hadn’t had a taste of you in so long. Her mouth watered, and her tongue swiped across her lips, leaving behind a sheen. “I’ll think about it,” she mumbled, hopping from the bed.

With the click of a button, your vibrator roared to life, and the whimper that left your mouth was pathetic. Riri stood patiently waiting while Shuri pulled your legs apart once more. Her hands on you felt like fire, and your head fell back onto your shoulder. Her chuckle rang loudly in your ear. “We ain’ even touch you yet.”

But then Riri’s hand grazed your thigh, only enough to pull your shorts to one side and expose your needy center. “Oh, baby, you’re fucking soaked.”

Your hips jutted forward, an impatient exhale sharp in your chest. You knew you were soaked; you needed them to do something about it.

Riri’s delicate fingers brushed over your lower set of lips before stopping to gently slap it a few times. You splashed around her harsh hits, hissing and curving your hips, hoping to catch her fingers at your entrance.

Mm, Riri hummed. “This ain’ enough.” She nodded to Shuri, “Lift her legs up.”

Shuri’s hands went from your inner thigh to hooking underneath, folding you in half. Your knees almost aligned with your shoulders, and Riri nodded, satisfied. “There she go. All on display for me.”

She brought the vibrator to your clit without warning, and you screamed. “There go that pretty voice, too,” Shuri stated, levity and lust dripping from her accented words.

You didn’t have the strength to stay silent anymore. Riri had the violently vibrating toy pressed hard against your swollen bud, and she made no move to let up. Your cunt splashed around the rapid movements, and you knew your orgasm would come fast and hard.

“So pretty,” Riri parroted lazily. The wetness between her own legs was growing uncomfortable, but her focus right now was wholeheartedly on you.

Your pussy clenched around nothing, and your head dug into Shuri’s shoulder with a dull pain that would become prominent later. “Oh, fuck,” you breathed out, repeating the phrase like a broken record.

This time, it was Shuri and Riri who were quiet, listening intently to your voice and the way its crescendo was built.

Your chest heaved, and your abs contracted, and you could feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, shit, shit-”

And then it was gone. The vibrations stopped, and the glorious orgasm that was about to wreck you washed away. A desperate cry fell from your lips, your glossed eyes staring up at Riri with so many questions.

“Nah, ma. That was the lowest setting.” She bent down to kiss your cheek. “You don’t gotta come yet.”

Your head shook so fast, it made you dizzy. “I do, I do.”

“Oh, you do?” She was mocking you. Your mouth opened with a smart-ass response that was quickly forgotten when stronger, harsher movements attacked your clit.

Riri had turned the intensity up, and the vibrations were radiating through your abdomen and your thighs. Your head fell back once more; your jaw stuck slack. “Oh fuck,” you roared. There was no way the people minding their business in the halls weren’t hearing you, but Bast, did you not give a fuck.

“Fuck, Ri, fuck,” you drawled out with a whimper. Her name had fallen from your lips with ease, and both the girls focused on you moved quickly to correct that.

Shuri’s hand roughly grabbed a handful of your braids and pushed your head forward at the same time that Riri pulled it forward with her hand on your chin. She hit the button on the vibrator, and the intensity increased once more.

Their hands on you wouldn’t allow your head to fall. The spew of screams and curses uttered from your mouth while Riri’s eyes dug into yours as if she could see past them. “Yeah, let’s try that again, baby girl.”

Up another setting the vibrator went, and the cry that came from you sounded like that of a wounded animal. “What’s my name?” Riri asked with all the sass in the world, watching you with stern eyes.

You didn’t answer, too afraid you’d say the wrong thing. There wasn’t a sane thought in that pretty brain of yours right now, and though you searched and searched, your own name didn’t even come to mind at the moment.

The intensity climbed higher and higher until Riri hitting the button was mundane. The vibrator was on the highest possible setting, and she was proud of you for handling it.

Your orgasm didn’t creep back on you with ease; it was about to hit you like a train. Your splashing grew, throwing your slick on all three of you. Your stomach was so tight, you were sure you’d have a six-pack after this, and your body shook like you were possessed.

Your head was still aligned with Ri’s, but your eyes were long gone, rolled back into your skull. A quick tap at your cheek pulled them back, and you stared at Riri, taking in her tiny frame, covered in sweat (or was that your cum?), with a look so sharp, it cut your gasp short.

“My name, baby,” she growled out at you, but it was too late. You were coming, soaking the sheets beneath you and Shuri with a long, drawn-out cry. Your body was trembling, a shaky “Ooh, shit,” the only thing that you could think well enough to say.

Riri held the vibrator flush with your cunt, letting the mix of you squirting and the vibrations splash your taste right to her awaiting tongue.

The moment felt like it lasted forever, and when you finally did start to come down, Riri removed the vibrator from you, turning it off and discarding it on the floor.

Shuri sat whispering something in Xhosa in your ear, tracing lines up and down your still shaky legs.

Your body gave out, relaxing into the curve of Shuri’s before Riri’s tight grip around your throat reawoke reality around you. Her eyes darted around your face, her lips tight, and her brows drawn. She yanked you away from Shuri and closed the space between you and her.

“What is my fucking name?” She questioned harshly. You’d never heard a sound so sinister come from her, and it turned your good mood foul.

“Red,” you spat at her.

In the next instant, her hand released your neck, and she took a step back, eyes still racing, breath still raging.

Shuri removed her hands from your thighs, backing herself into a corner of your bed until she was no longer touching you. “Sana-” she started gently, but you barely heard her.

All of your rage from before was back, and now Riri was the unfortunate target. “That’s not fucking fair, Riri!”

She remained silent tense brows raising as she watched you jump from the bed onto wobbly legs. You stumbled but stood your ground. “Yeah, you’re Riri now.”

She wasn’t deterred when you started toward her, hands drawn in fists at your side and chest poking out. “You been calling me by my government since that night in your dorm room, but it’s a problem when I do it?”

Riri's mouth opened, starting to speak, but the look on your face advised her not to. “It’s always a fucking problem when I do it, huh?” You were in her face at this point, and she could see the tears glistening behind the anger in your eyes.

“You two ignore me for a fucking week until I say okay to the whole damn world know I got not one, but two ‘girlfriends.’” Your hands uncurl to throw air quotes around “girlfriends.” A grizzly laugh escapes your lips, and the tears start to fall.

“But they not even my girlfriends. I-” Your voice broke, and so did the girls’ hearts. “I ain’ nothing but one of many to them.” You sniff before continuing. “And when I try to get a week to figure that shit out, to process it, you break into my fucking room!”

“You break in and fuck my fucking brains out.” Your hands are shaking as they reach up to wipe away the steady stream of tears. “But you gonna leave here and give the same thing to who the fuck ever.”

Riri’s silence is starting to irritate you, so you direct the rest of your wrath to the princess. The pillow on your desk chair flies toward her, landing with a thud, and you wish you had the balls to throw something heavier. “And you-”

Shuri watches you cross the room toward her, stopping just short of the bed. “You got me out here looking fucking stupid!” Snot and spit mix with your tears in what you only know as the definition of ugly crying, but you do not fucking care.

“You got a harem, Shuri? Hm?”

“No-” Her words were drowned under yours.

“Kehlani, nigga? I can’t-” Your voice cracked further. “I can’t fucking compete with Kehlani. I can’t even compete with the other girls on campus, can I?” You whispered.

Your hand flew to point at Riri, and she flinched, certain that you’d just flung something in her direction. “She the only one who don’t got any competition. It’s always been Ri and Shuri.” You chuckle again. “Y’know what she told me?” Your laughter grew until you were hiccuping behind giggles and sobs. “When I was in her room upset about the viral video of my ‘girlfriend’ dry humping somebody else in the club? She kept saying ‘Me and Shuri’ this and ‘Me and Shuri’ that.”

You looked back toward Riri. The venom in you had run dry, and all that was left behind was sadness. “‘Me and Shuri ain’ never been exclusive’” You took her words and threw them back at her; it was the worst thing you could’ve thrown.

“‘Shuri catching ass, getting ass; those are just her weekends,’” you repeated what Riri had said to you with bile in your throat. “She laughed about it.”

Shuri’s eyes darted towards Riri, who looked as though she were about to crumble to the floor.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at either of them any longer. “Get out,” you whispered.

Shuri rose from your bed, taking tender steps toward you as if you would explode if she were to move any faster. “Baby, I- We-”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes until they were red. “There it go again; ‘we’. ‘We’ is not Shuri, Riri, and me. ‘We’ is Shuri and Riri. It’s always Shuri and Riri.” You shook your head, your braids swinging around you. “I’m not doing this no more. Get out.”

Your voice was eerily calm. As though you were making small talk about the weather and not breaking their hearts.

“No-” Shuri spoke again. “Baby, listen-”

You glanced at the clock above Riri’s head, avoiding looking at her altogether. “Get. Out.” You emphasized, stalking past them both until you were entering your bathroom and starting the shower. “I need to start getting ready. Thanks for ruining my nap.”

“Getting ready for what?”

You looked at Shuri deliberately as the next words from your mouth rang through the air. “I have a date.”

“Like hell you do.”

Both of your heads whipped to Riri standing on the other side of the room. Your confession had broken her trance, and she approached you quickly, grabbing for your hand.

“I do,” You snatched away from her touch roughly. “And I need to wash you off me. Both of you.”

“Y/n, you play too fucking much-”

Your neck snapped toward Riri. She didn’t back down when a scoff fell from your lips, and you walked to her until your chests were touching, and she had no choice but to look up at you.

Sadness still decorated your pretty brown eyes, but Riri was more focused on the growl deep in your voice. “What’s the matter, Ri?” You darted your gaze back to the clock once more. “Your eight o’clock cancel on you?”

Your hair whips her in the face as you turn back to Shuri. “Kehlani couldn’t make it?”

Neither of them speaks, just watching you head back to your bathroom door. “I’m getting in the shower,” you announce. “Can’t have all this dried cum on me.” The door starts to close, but not before they hear the last of your sentence. “He might want a fresh slate.”

Riri sat in the VIP box of a club she did not want to fucking be in, nursing a glass of rum that she was barely sipping on. Anger on a sober Riri was enough to land her in jail; she didn’t need to be drunk tonight.

Shuri sat across from her, eyes scanning the crowd below them as she threw back another shot, growling with the burn cascading down her throat.

She lifted a hand to fix the blazer on her shoulder before looking over to notice Riri had abandoned hers. A dark, lacey fabric clung to Riri’s bosom like a second skin, and Shuri gulped before turning away again.

“Why are we even here, Ri? She said she was done.”

Riri’s eye-roll was almost audible. “You wasn’t saying shit when you snuck the Kimoyo bead in her purse.” She brought the cup to her lips again, allowing the sour liquor to run over her tongue before swallowing it harshly. “Ion give a fuck what she said. She’s not done; she’s ours.”

They watched you with fury burning behind their gazes as you gyrated in a crowd full of people. Shuri had to convince Riri to remain glued to her seat when your dress rode up a bit, and luckily, you’d pulled it down before Riri had a chance to expose that she and Shuri were spying on you.

They were just there to make sure your date was respectful. You could have this cute lil date, even if it boiled their blood. They’d make sure your clothes stayed on, and you got home safe, and then try talking to you again tomorrow. Or the day after that, or the day after that.

Except, Riri was finding it really hard to stay under the radar. Every time your date slipped his hands around your waist or brought his face a little too close to yours, her feet begged her to move, her fist itching to hit him.

Him. Of all the ways you could have chosen to spite them, this was by far the fucking worse.

You’d never shown interest in a dick, yet here you were, grinding up against one.

Shuri wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She struggled to read your lips from up here when you brought them to his ear to whisper something or when they spread into a grin. The glass cup in her hand was in danger of breaking; Shuri’s grip just kept getting tighter and tighter.

And even though you weren’t dancing for them, they were mesmerized by you. Your hair was gathered into a high pony, your eyeliner deep and dark, accentuating your big, round eyes. The dress you chose was sinful. It stopped just under the curve of your ass, exposing the length of your thick thighs for him to touch. Had it been any tighter, your breasts would have spilled right out of the deep plunge that reached your belly button; instead, they sat high and (mostly) covered, aside from your pierced nippled poking through the thin fabric.

Riri had groaned when you first walked in, and that quickly turned into a growl when she noticed the nigga’s hand resting on your hip.

That was nearly two hours ago, and her expression had yet to change.

“You don’t wanna chop his hands off?” she asked Shuri over the rim of her glass.

“Of course, I do, sana-”

“Good, then go do it.”

Shuri sighed, putting her drink down and peering over the railing back down at you. Your ass was rolling into the curve of his front, and he was enjoying every bit of it, with one hand on your hip and the other gathered in your hair. “I’m considering it.”

Riri was about to comment when her body ran cold. A slow song rang through the speakers, something much more sensual than the ass-shaking anthem that was playing before. Her eyes ran back to you, and she watched, frozen.

You’d stood back up to your full height, turning to face him with your arms thrown around his neck.

Your bodies ground together in sync with the rhythm of the music, and Riri’s mouth fell open when your head fell back with a moan, and he leaned down to kiss your throat.

She was already on her feet by the time he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as he practically fucked you through your clothes on the dance floor. The angle put your left breast in danger of being exposed and Ri could see the dark swirl of your areola bouncing free.

“Fuck no.” Riri was gone, and Shuri wasn’t too far behind her. They pushed through the crowd, ignoring protests coming from every which way. Ri’s vision was blood-shot, her body shaking with rage.

Her fist was already formed and she stalked toward you, on a mission. Shuri’s voice in her ear caused the smaller girl to stumble. “Do not hit him,” she commanded with a growl.

Riri reached you first, uncurling her fist and reaching up to snatch you by your hair, breaking the now deepened kiss between you and him. Shuri followed closely behind, nearly clipping your heels and already digging her keys from her pockets.

He stood there stunned as you were pulled away and lead through the front doors without anyone so much as glancing your way. Ri took her hands from your hair and put them around your hips, lifting and flinging you into the backseat of Shuri’s SUV. She hopped in behind you, and Shuri jumped into the driver's seat, pulling off with a loud skid as her tires kissed the pavement.

Riri was livid, shaking in her nearly naked form, and it pissed her off even more to see the smugness that was embedded into your features. Her intentions weren’t to scare you but the fact that you didn’t even show an ounce of fright enraged her.

“Breaking and entering and kidnapping on the same day? Must not be the first crime the two of you have-”

Riri’s hand was around your throat before you could finish your sentence, pressing your body harshly into the leather seats until your head bounced against the headrest, locking you in place.

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” she hurled at you. Your pompous attitude was gone, and fear danced in your gaze. You’d never seen Riri so angry; you didn’t know lividity was a feeling she was capable of.

She didn’t give you a chance to speak, staring at your lips in disgust before she continued. “I hope you happy, baby, because you just cost that man his life.”

Your eyes widened further with horror, and Shuri called out Riri’s name in warning.

Ri scoffed. “Oh, I don’t gotta do shit,” her grip tightened. “Wakanda got a whole ass army who would kill to protect you.”

Alarm bells were ringing in your head and your vision was starting to blur with the lack of oxygen your brain was receiving. You knew you shouldn’t push Riri any further, but the words were out without a second thought.

“They kill for all your hoes?”

Shuri’s foot came down hard on the brakes, and you and Riri jerked forward, but her eyes never left your face. All around you, horns blarred angrily with the Princess’s driving and you could see the swing of headlights from behind as they swerved to avoid ramming into the back of it, but Shuri continued as if she didn’t almost cause the world’s biggest traffic accident.

“You fucking-” Riri’s lips curled. “There are no hoes, y/n. It’s just you, only you.”

She turned to look out the window, seemingly analyzing your surroundings, then spoke to Shuri, “Go to my garage.”

The only response she got back was a silent nod, which she ignored anyway. Riri looked hard at your face, glancing back and forth between your lips and your eyes. “Lick your lips,” she commands.

You do as you’re told, surprisingly, and dart your tongue out to swipe over your lips once, twice, three times. Riri groans at the way they shine once you finish, wet with your spit. “They taste like him?”

Shuri watches through the rearview mirror as you hesitate, then nod. Riri crashes her lips into yours in a harsh kiss. She wants to wipe away any trace of him, any taste, any memory, any thought. She swallows your tongue, moaning as you swap spit, and you bring your arms around her neck to pull her closer.

Riri resists, though, drawing her body back and creating an unwanted distance between the two of you. “What about now?” She asks through pants. “They still taste like him?”

You lick your lips slowly, savoring the taste. Your head shakes from side to side.

“Who they taste like?” She demands.

“You,” you reply breathily.

Before Riri has a chance to respond, the car comes to a stop, and Shuri cuts the engine off. You look around, recognizing the alley that leads to the back entrance of Riri’s garage.

Shuri hops out of the car first, walking around to open your door and offer her hand to help you.

Riri’s already out of the car, walking over to unlock the well-secured garage and stepping inside the darkness.

She swipes a bunch of papers off the thrifted couch that sits next to her desk, and they flutter to the floor like snowflakes.

She pushes you into the cushions, watching your body land with a bounce that exposes your right breast in all its pierced glory.

Riri’s stare at you is lustful and rageful, shaking her with an unusual intensity. Shuri stands beside her, both of them glaring at you, but neither of them moving.

It isn’t until Riri breaks the trance, shaking her head and walking away. “Handle her, man. I need to calm down some before I touch her.”

Now you and Shuri watch as Riri retreats, guilt building up in your little body. You turn back to see Shuri approaching you, unbuttoning her blazer until it swings open. She stops in front of you, fingers toying with the spaghetti straps of your dress. “He touched this,” she states simply.

You nod, “Shuri, I-”

The sound of ripping fabric echoes off the metal walls, and you look down to see Shuri’s torn your dress straight down the plunge.

You can only muster out a pathetic squeak at the sight of what was your favorite dress. Shuri is so close when you look up that you almost headbutt her.

“What is my name?” She growls, accentuating every word.

“D-daddy-” you manage to stutter out.

Mm, she hums, and you shrink into yourself. No ‘good girl’ or praise. Just a hum.

You hadn’t really deserved the praise lately, though.

Her head buried in your neck pulls you away from your thoughts. The feel of her lips and her tongue traveling along the softness of your skin causes your head to lazily tilt to the side, giving her more access.

Her finger juts out to point in the direction Riri wandered in. “And you are hers,” she says with such a harsh bite that you cry out.

She licks away the pain a moment later, “And you are mine.”

Shuri reaches down to pull the shredded dress away from your body and starts kissing down the length of your collarbone. “I’m sorry that video upset you.” She emphasizes each word with a kiss. “And I’m more sorry that my actions upset you.”

Her kisses trail to the valley between your breasts, and your fingers find her curls tangling in them and pressing her closer. “But I am all about you, baby.”

Her kissing stops as she spots your underwear. It’s nothing but a black piece of string tied around your hips and thighs. The thinnest fabric in the world barely covers both your lips down there, and even now, it’s twisted to the point where your slit swallows it.

“You wore these for him?”

You shake your head, missing the feel of her lips on your skin already. “Wore them for you; knew you were there.”

“How-” Shuri starts.

“Your bead. Found it in my purse before I even left the dorm. Spotted the two of you a few minutes after we got to the club-”

Her face twists into an unreadable expression. “You knew we were there and gave us a good ole’ show, baby?”

Your cheeks grow hot, and Shuri shakes her head. “You really were trying to get that man killed.”

She lets her hand trail down your thigh, stopping at the crevice where they meet. You're already so wet, your little cunt drenching your sorry excuse of panties.

One harsh tug, and those too, are nothing but shredded fabric.

The only part of your outfit that isn’t torn and tattered are your heels and when you ask Shuri if she’s gonna go for those next, she ignores you.

“You owe me new clothes,” you grumble under her attack of kisses on your thigh. You whine when she pulls away, sitting up enough that your gazes are aligned.

“I don’t owe you shit but an apology.” Her slender fingers run down the length of your slit, coming back up dripping in your essence. You’re hypnotized, watching in fascination and lust as she brings them to her lips, licking them clean of you and groaning at the taste. “But I’d buy you a closet full of clothes if you asked me to.”

Your thighs part and her head descends between them, licking up the wetness that coats them. “And no,” she says with a breathy moan to your twitchy clit. “I don’t do that for all my hoes.”

And with that, her tongue attacks you. There's nothing but a sense of urgency in the air as Shuri laps at you as if the taste would disappear if she didn’t appreciate it enough. Your moans ring through the garage, loud and echoing.

Shuri’s tongue on your clit is merciless, swiping and sucking. She dips lower, licking a fat, long strip up your slit and her moans tickle you from the inside out. Your thighs on her shoulder are clenched tight around her head, but she couldn’t care less.

You taste like heaven and Shuri never believed in such a place before you. Her tongue stiffens, and then, it’s in your cunt, fucking you feverishly. Your eyes roll and you’re trying so hard to keep them on Shuri.

The sight of her fucking your pussy, drowning in it, is one the tabloids would have never been able to imagine. If they thought an ass-catching princess was scandalous, they’d drop dead at the sight of this.

Movement from the corner of your eyes catches your attention, and it takes all your strength to pull it away from Shuri long enough to notice Ri in the corner, back pressed against the wall, arms crossed in front of her.

Your eyes lock, and you stare at Ri as you pant and groan, as if they were directed towards her. And maybe they were. She shifts uncomfortably at the sounds you make, reaching around to adjust something in her, now unbuttoned pants, but before you have time to question it, Shuri’s tongue in your pussy is replaced by two fingers.

They stretch you out deliciously, and she pulls her head away to admire the way you clench around her. “Demethi, nkosazana,” she mumbles under her breath.

You’d heard her speak enough Xhosa over the years to be able to translate that one. “I’m the princess now?” you stumble and stutter through the question and a red-hot fury makes itself known in your belly with the way she curved her fingers and looks up at you. “My princess,” she responds.

Suddenly, her fingers pick up speed, and she’s added a third, scissoring into you and grinning at the way you stretch around her. “Good girl,” she praises. “Good girl, go ahead and open up for me, hm?”

Ugh, they way they talked to you during sex.. Their words were fucking filthy and the moment they opened their mouths, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

This time was no different. You had been so focused on Shuri, that you didn’t notice Riri stalking toward you.

Shuri noticed, but she was intent on making you come apart before she handed you over. The taste of you was still on her tongue and she signaled Riri to ‘come here’ with a curled finger, while the other mirrored the action deep within your walls.

Riri headed over to Shuri, and upon reaching her, took her chin and tilted it upwards so she could capture her lips in a kiss. You watched as they shared your taste between the two of them, moaning at the sight.

Shuri pulled away first, feeling the way your walls began to swell around her hand. Your orgasm was coming (pun intended), and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on them, you couldn’t. Your head fell back, and your eyes shut so tightly, they were just slits.

Riri just stood and watched, hands tucked in her pockets, and Shuri sang you praises.

“There you go, baby. Let it out.”

You began to splash around her fingers.

“Good girl, nkosazana yam, keep going.”

Your wetness had picked up, as did your cries. Shuri’s forearm was soaked, along with the front of her blazer.

“I’m- fuck! I’m com-” Your sentence was nothing but fragments, but Shuri understood it perfectly well.

“I know baby, come for me,” she cooed. “Umhle kakhulu (So pretty).”

You were already in the midst of coming apart, and Shuri’s fingers didn’t let up, fucking you through your climax. It was such an intense feeling. You felt so full, like the pressure was too much, but Bast, it was so delicious, you didn’t want her to stop.

You wanted your orgasm to keep coming so Shuri’s fingers never left. Unfortunately for you, your well began to run dry and your screams died down to panting breaths. Shuri’s hand slipped out of you with a loud squelch and she lifted them so you could see how much of you was actively dripping from her digits. “Messy girl,” she stated cooly, rising to her feet and taking a step back.

Your thighs were still sky-high and your breathing hadn’t quite leveled out before Riri stepped to where Shuri once stood. She reached into her pants, pulling out a dildo you’d never seen before already strapped to her hilt.

It was made of vibranium, that much was obvious with the deep purple glow. Most of the toys the three of you used were, but this one was different. First of all, it was thick. Fuck the fact that it was already a good 8 or 9 inches long, it wasn’t much smaller than the width of a fucking soda can and you could hear a slight buzzing come from it.

The look on Riri’s face gave away the surprise. It was vibrating, harshly against her clit and when she pressed the tip to your slit, you could feel the vibrations on your end too.

Fuck, she was about to tear you apart.

“You seemed to have wanted dick so damn bad tonight, baby,” her words were still angry as she pushed into you at a snail’s pace.

The stretch was too much, but it felt so fucking good. Your cunt swallowed every inch of her, pulling her in further.

She could feel just how wet you were, how tight you were, having just come. The way you clenched around her almost knocked the wind from her little body, and she had to will herself to take it slow.

“Shit, baby,” she hissed, eyes closed, breathing staggered.

“Riri-” Shuri’s voice sounded out from somewhere in the room, but you were too focused on Ri to search for it.

“What?” She sounded like she was in pain, and still, she wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Fuck her.”

Riri opened her eyes, burning a hole through yours. Her hips shifted, and she was in you even deeper. “No shit. I ain’ taking orders from you right now,” she growled lowly.

The only warning you got before she buried her entire cock into you was a hand on your hip as she steadied herself. Your scream rang through the room in agony and Ri’s moans harmonized with yours.

The two of you sat, stuck for a moment as she took a few deep breaths, allowing you to adjust.

And then she pulled out, leaving you feeling hollow. The feeling didn’t last long because she thrust back into you, this time much easier than the first.

“Fuck,” you cried, and she did it again, and again, and again, until she’d picked up a steady pace.

Sweat poured down her forehead as she fucked you with the restraint of a fucking God. You were so tight, so wet, so warm. A week was much too long to go without being buried in your cunt and the fact that you’d almost willingly given it to a nigga earlier that night angered her.

Her movements were harsh and rough, and so good. This wasn’t love making, it was fucking.

The kind that sent a tingle to your toes and arched your back to extremes that you didn’t know you were capable of. It was the type that warranted multiple orgasms and the first one ripped through you with a vengeance.

Riri felt it; she felt the way you clenched around her and how your screams pierced the air. She could feel your slick collecting on the pants that she hadn’t bothered to pull all the way down before taking you.

And she didn’t let up. No recovery time this time around. She fucked you through that first orgasm and continued fucking you toward the second.

Your legs clamed around her waist and your arms trapped her face right in front of yours. You could inhale her pants as she dug into you, reciting elements on the periodic table so she didn’t come before she wanted to.

“You been playing games with me, baby,” she whispered to you through her thrusts.

You were too dick-crazed to fully process her sentence at first, but once you did, you responded, “No different than the games you and Shuri been playing.” You sounded like a drunk, but Riri understood every bit of what you said.

Your eyes wandered, rolling back as that second orgasm approached.

“Look at me, baby,” Riri commanded, and she smiled when you obeyed, locking your lust-blown eyes on hers. “There ain’ nobody else, okay?” Her forehead pressed to yours. “I ain’ fucking nobody else like this.” At that, her hips curved and her cock hit the spongy part of your cunt that was the only thing responsible for holding your orgasm at bay.

The second one rolled through you, yet Riri continued as if it hadn’t. She groaned, listening to you moan right in her ear. “That pretty sound right there, fuck. I wanna hear that shit for the rest of my life.” She couldn’t hold back any longer. She was about to come.

Her thrusts slowed and she shuddered, sinking into the suppleness of your touch as your legs kept her buried in your cunt and your nails dug into her back, scratching hard enough to draw little beads of blood.

Shapes, letters, she didn’t know what you were etching into her skin, and it didn’t matter. She groaned, legs shaking as she struggled to stay on them.

Your lip rolled into your mouth at the feel of Riri’s warmth on your inner thighs. “That’s it,” you muttered, low enough for just her to hear. “Come on me, ma.”

Neither of you knew who’s come was who’s on your thighs and neither of you cared. Riri fell apart in your arms, finally coming down long enough to press your lips together in a kiss that was much softer than her thrusts had been.

“You’re mine,” she said against your mouth. “You’re barely hers-” she pointed back at Shuri and wrapped both arms around your middle to press you further against her, as if your bodies could fuse and become one. “Because you are all fucking mine,” she growled and you smiled at her words.

Shuri walked over, slapping her palm against Riri’s ass with a warning. “Watch yourself.” Her head tilted, focusing on Riri’s back and your smile morphed into laughter. Shuri copied you with a chuckle. “Did you write your name in her back, baby?”

You nodded, still laughing, feeling gleeful for the first time in days. “I did,” you stated proudly.

Shuri chuckled again, shaking her head before eying you. “It’s sideways.”

You shrugged, “It’s there.”

“Well,” Shuri declared, moving her fingers to shake off her blazer, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes never left yours as she shrugged her shirt over her head. “Guess I need one to match.”

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