#her nails scratching the fabric because she is trying to crawl inside of him??? her SOBS????

[actual-changeling]

sleeping on the highway tonight, i will never emotionally recover from this scene

#alex watches x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #msr #it feels like MY heart got ripped out of my chest #this show is pure cocaine #her nails scratching the fabric because she is trying to crawl inside of him??? her SOBS???? #mulder looking like he's falling apart on the inside #god this episode was the most emotionally taxing so far #somehow nothing is worse than creepy #abusive men

[oneofthosesimps]

Lost in Blood

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 4013

summary: after you kill your next victim sukuna fucks his heir in your belly

warnings: BLOOD ( it's not yours but there's a lot of blood, like a lot), blood kink, angst, death, murder, rough sex, sub/dom, dirty talk, belly buldge, breeding kink, two cocks, double penetration (in one and two holes)

authors note: if you are uncomfortable with the idea of blood or the idea of you killing people, this fanfic is NOT for you!!! this is coming from the deepest corners of my head. if you've watched American Horror Story and remember the countess sex scene with her vicitms, this fanfic was inspired by it

all credits to the artist of this pic:

ゲオブバビ/Geobubabi

-----

Screams fill the room, cutting through the air. They resemble the knife in your hand, which slides through the flesh beneath you. You watch it tensely as it draws its lines, forming wounds of varying depth. Deep red blood emerges from them, running in thick drops along the pale skin and then slowly pooling in puddles. Green emeralds stare at you, vein-streaked and wet. Tears flow like waterfalls from the large eyes, roll down the roundish face and get caught in the dark hair. Mouth wide open, a high, croaking voice makes your ears ring. You look at the woman below you and tilt your head slightly, contorting your face as the blade of the knife cuts deeper and a large gash forms on her arm. Her voice makes your head ache, almost explode. It drowns out the sound of tearing flesh. One too high note from her and you ram the knife into her arm, piercing it completely and scraping the dark floor on the other side of where she lies. She cries out loudly, trying to wiggle her limbs and squirming under you.

"Let me go!" her voice shrieks at you, and your hand clutches the handle of the weapon. Behind you, you hear a deep, dark laugh. At the small sound, the little hairs on your skin stand up and the butterflies dance inside you, which puts a smile on your face. You stare into her eyes, which look back in pure pain. As she eyes you, her face changes, becoming panicked as she sees your eyes and realizes what lies hidden deep within them. With one smooth thrust you ram the knife into her chest, right in the middle between her breasts. It slides through the flesh and bone like butter. The brown-haired woman spits blood, which speckles her pretty face. Her breathing changes, becoming shallower and more frantic, and she gasps. You watch her begin to fight for her life and pull the knife out of her. Blood gushes from the wound, splattering towards you as your hand snaps back down and the knife disappears into her body again, this time further to the left of it. Apparently, you hit her lungs completely. Her gasping gets louder and you see in her face that at the latest now the moment has come when she has understood that she can't survive this anymore. You sigh softly and look at her sadly. She lasted shorter than your last victim. The blood spreads over her body, flowing out of here like a stabbed pig. It looks so beautiful as the fabric of her white kimono turns dark. Her eyes search your face again, slowly glazing over as you stab her body again and again. Blood splatters on your face, arms, legs, and kimono as the life crawls out of her. The screams have long since stopped, she looks past your head, mouth open to a soundless scream. You stop as soon as her eyes lose their shine and the twitching of her body ceases. That is always the most significant moment. The feeling is impossible to describe when you see someone cross over into the beyond. Your mouth twists in dissatisfaction, this was way too easy. Other people are so terribly weak and whiny.

You feel a strong presence moving behind you and a warm shiver runs down your spine. A wide grin appears as Sukuna kneels beside you and leans down to you. Four big eyes look at you and make your breath catch. His pointed teeth flash at you, "Did you have fun, my little human?" You nod at him, unable to speak due to his beauty, "You did so well." His large hand rests against your cheek and he strokes it gently with his thumb, smudging the drops of blood. Your eyes close in pleasure and you snuggle up to him, enjoying the coldness he radiates. Again, he laughs, quieter this time, and pulls his hand away. Immediately your eyes open again and you look at the god in front of you.

His gaze wanders over your face, red smears on your cheek, before he looks to the dead woman at his feet. Countless wounds decorate her still-warm body, her blood slowly stops coming out of her, forming a lake in which she bathes almost weightlessly. Two of his fingers pick up some of the red liquid and he licks it off while his eyes land on you again. Your eyes widen and you lick your lips as you watch him do it. "You want some too, little human?" You nod at him and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue. His eyes take on a darker colour at the scenario before him, his pupils widening and pushing out the red.

"So greedy," he murmurs, stroking your head, running his hand through your curls, "But her blood is dirty and bitter. You deserve better." You pull a slight pout at his words as he takes the knife from your hand. Your eyes watch him open his mouth and run his tongue over the blade, licking it clean. He turns the weapon so that the sharp edge rides over the muscle and slides in a clean cut through it. Your face shows your astonishment as his hand settles on your mouth. He pulls at your lips and opens them.

A blush rises to your face as his lips settle on yours and his tongue runs between them. He explores your mouth cavity, playing with you, and you moan. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your small hands knead the fabric of his kimono. The metallic taste of his blood mixes with your saliva and overwhelms your senses. The kimono slips off his shoulders, exposing his bare chest. Greedily you suck the blood from his tongue and a low murmur comes from him. One of his hands slides down your side and rests on your thigh. He caresses your tender skin, wipes aside the fabric of your clothing and his nails scratch over your leg. You caress his chest meanwhile, running over his muscles. Your fingertips trace the black lines before your arms wrap around his neck. You press closer and your teeth bite lightly into his lower lip, pulling at it. When he breaks the kiss again, he leaves you breathless. Your head buzzes and you cling to him. "More?" he murmurs against your ear, kissing the spot just behind your earlobe.

"Yes, please," you moan in a trembling voice. His wide grin settles on his face and his eyes glint. His left arm around your waist pulls you away from the fading warmth of the dead woman beneath you, his right hand around your thigh grips tighter. He lays you down, right next to your victim and he looks down at you. The loose belt of your kimono unbuckles. A low growl comes from him as he sees your naked body lying in front of him.

In the middle of a pool of blood, your petite limbs writhe. Your curls lie around your face, framing it and giving you a kind of halo - so he is right about you being an angel. Your pink cheeks and sparkling eyes shine so full of life, a total contrast to his appearance. Your breasts jiggle slightly with each movement, while your nipples harden as they touch the cooler air. His gaze wanders lower and saliva gathers in his mouth as he looks at the lips between your legs, his hard cocks pushing through between the fabric sides of the kimono. Blood rushes into them, making them stick out hard from his strong body. He loves it when you look at him and your eyes glaze over slightly, your mouth opens and the blush on your face deepens. He especially loves the expression you take on once you see his fat cocks. Every time you look at him as if they could never fit in you and every time he convinces you otherwise.

"Mmm, you look so beautiful," he murmurs, his nails scraping across your waist and stomach. You whimper and your hands form fists as they grip the now fully soaked fabric of your kimono. His fingers wander over the thin and sensitive skin above your cunt, caressing it, making you wince. A moan escapes you and you throw your head back as he caresses the soft lips. He strokes satisfied along your slit, smearing your juices all over you before his thumb lands on your clit. Your moans grow louder and your eyes roll up into your head as he slowly massages the little knob in a circular motion. After watching you all day, his patience is short now. Almost naked, covered only with the thin fabric of your kimono, you have taken lives again and again. None of his imagination makes him hornier than this sight.

"How wet you are already, little human," he taunts, eyeing the twitches of your body, "This can't be all because of me, can it?" His name drops silently from your mouth and his body vibrates with laughter. He increases the pressure on your clit and your lower body twitches uncontrollably again. Already, a knot forms in your stomach and the feeling is truly amazing. A tingling sensation spreads from your core, flowing to all corners of your body and you open your legs wider for him. You angle them and your own hand spreads your labia, leaving bloody fingerprints. The sight makes Sukuna's cock drip and twitch against his belly. He looks closely at how his thumb massages your clit, how your hole shines and turns white because of all the juice. His long nail keeps stroking your swollen lips, making them turn red and swollen. "Fuck, it's not all because of me. Your little cunt gets wet when you kill, right?" His body bends over you and his left hand dips into the puddle of blood beside your head to brace himself. He looks at your half-closed eyes and licks red drops from your cheek.

His finger moves from your clit further down and he puts only his fingertip into your tight hole. With this small movement you push your back through and moan loudly. He dips it in and out again and stretches your hole as good as he can. Sukuna has to moan as well when shortly after three of his fingers press into you and stretch you better and further, "You are such a naughty little girl." He spreads his fingers, pressing against your tight, soft walls and you stare dumbly at him as he begins to thrust into you in this position. Satisfied, he watches your face, noticing every little movement. Tears form in your eyes and your brow furrows as his middle finger sinfully massages the rough spot inside you.

Again, your legs twitch uncontrollably and your hands reach for his shoulders. You dig your nails into his skin and he enjoys the pain. “Deeper”, he groans. His eyes stare at you lustfully as your nails dig into his flesh and muscles. Your fingers leave deep scratches and in some places, blood comes to the surface. The knot in your stomach tightens as he doesn't stop. Your body tenses before you groan loud and long. You stretch out towards him, your vision exploding black and your eyes turning white as you twist your eyeballs.

As you come off your high, his long, broad fingers pull out of you. He pushes off the ground and grabs your thigh. A bloody handprint forms on your leg, which he smears slightly as he grips harder. His eyes settle on his fingers, from which your juice flows in thick drops. He catches them with his long tongue and moans with pleasure, "Better than any blood I could drink." Once he's done, he grins again and your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him. His tall stature above you looks down at you, "You were such a good girl today, you deserve a reward for that, don't you?"

You nod at him and your gaze falls on his large hand, which is gripping one of his cocks and pumping it lightly in his hand. The thick veins stand out and his seed begins to drip from him onto your lower belly. You have to bite your tongue to keep from losing your mind again right away. He puts the tip to the red lips of your cunt and feels the heat you radiate. Slowly he pushes into you and tears your hole. Despite all the fluid between your legs, which has increased again due to your orgasm, and the stretching by his fingers, he barely fits inside you. All that lube doesn't stop it from starting to burn and your walls from starting to pulsate. You whimper in pleasure and close your eyes. The mixture of pain and desire is like a drug.

"Such a good girl," Sukuna whispers to you and places his hand on your belly, feeling his dick bury itself inside you. As he bumps the back, his balls twitch and he moans out. Seeing your little body in front of him, taking his cock so well, drives him crazy. You've hardly gotten used to him, squeezing his cock, but he can barely stand not to move. Normally he would wait longer, give you time, but today it is impossible.

"I'm sorry pet, I can't be that patient with you today," he mumbles and wraps his arms around your waist. He lifts your body up and your bare chest meets his. This changes the angle and he slides a little deeper, stretching you wide and pressing painfully against your cervix. You can't stifle the cry as you sit in his lap and he burrows deep inside you. Without pausing for a moment, he lets you bounce up and down on him a few times. His lips are on your jiggling right breast and he sucks on your hard nipple, licking it and biting it a little too hard. Again, you scream out, the pain moves through your upper body. Fuck, he wants to fill you. He wants to fuck you stupid and leave you almost unconscious. His left hand slaps your ass cheek, he reaches into the fat and spreads your ass apart.

His other hand rub soothingly over your bloodied back before his right hand moves to his second cock. This one is waiting painfully hard for attention. He pumps this one up and down a few times as well, but the feeling hardly eases. His pre-cum gets smeared between your ass cheeks and serves him as a lubricant. You press tighter against him as you feel the fat tip against you again, this time further back. Your eyes squeeze shut as he uses the mixture of blood and juice to push painfully into you. Your little asshole is still way too tight and every inch forward makes your body twitch.

"Fuck," he lets out a long moan as each ring of your anus clenches around him, taking him in. He grits his teeth to keep from thrusting right in one go, "So small and tight. I should have taken this hole right away."

"Su-sukuna," you gasp against his chest, and his gaze falls back to you. He loses his control when he sees your red cheeks, when he sees you looking at him with your eyes half-closed and your tongue sticking out. Your face shows the most different emotions and features when you are near him but seeing your fuck face makes him proud every time and moves something deep inside him.

In one smooth thrust, he pushes into you a second time and you yelp. Deep inside he's sorry, but his head is too fogged with lust to grasp those thoughts more clearly. He growls loudly as your walls twitch wildly, milking him. Saliva runs down your chin and you claw into the skin of his chest, leaving deep marks here as well. You're so incredibly full and stretched. His cock forms a small bulge on your belly, which is further enhanced by his second cock in your ass. You have never seen anything so beautiful. How beautifully thick it will look when Sukuna has shot all his baby seeds into you.

"Show me how much you love this," he speaks in a dark voice. He could scare the shit out of one, but luckily only you see him like that and you would never be afraid of him.

With trembling hands, you hold onto his shoulders again. Your weak legs tighten and you push off of him, moaning loudly as his two cocks pull out of you before stretching you to the max again as soon as you let yourself sink back down onto him. His hands stabilize you as you move, while his eyes move back and forth between your face and where you are joined. His hands clasp your waist tightly again and he squeezes too hard, which is why he leaves dark marks.

"So big and thick," you moan, making him grin again.

"Just the way you love it, my little whore". You roll your eyes at his words and circle your hips to create more friction inside you. This time something else flutters in your belly. The feeling is short but intense and shoots right into your clit and cunt.

"Do you like that? Do you like it when I call you that?" You nod to him as his hands massage your waist, "Open your eyes and look at me."

You do as you are commanded and open your heavy eyelids. His eyes are by now jet black and look at you like dark obsidian. "I have never fucked a whore like you." Your eyes turn again and he smirks. "Never have I fucked a human who can take my two cocks so good and not tear right into two." Your body moves faster on top of him, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you rock your body against his. But you keep bouncing on him and pushing his cocks inside you. Sweat forms on your skin and mixes with the blood. Sukuna watches a thick drop roll from your collarbone to your breasts and between them. His full balls slap against your ass cheeks and the sound alone makes the knot in your stomach tighten. He watches your next orgasm, which makes your body jerk, and takes over for you, fucking you through it as you give out. His speed is much more brutal and almost sends you over the edge again. This time your voice echoes through the room, his name falling from your lips again and again.

"Would you like me to pleasure you some more?" his deep voice vibrates against you. Your fogged head nods at him, even though your exhausted body is slowly losing its energy and strength.

"Of course," you hear him murmur with a wide grin. He pulls you off of him, leaving your holes empty and open. You moan out as you lose his physical contact. He forces you onto all fours, placing his hand in the small of your back, thus pushing your ass into the air. Your hands smear the blood beneath you. The image of what's happening tightens the knot in his stomach. Your ass stretches out to meet him, the hole stretched wide and looking for something thick. Your core is white by now. As your holes contract again, causing you to groan, creamy juice squeezes out of them and Sukuna almost comes. He just licks the liquid away with the tip of his tongue, clawing into your skin to control himself. Out of curiosity, he pushes his tongue into the dirtiest part of your body and his hips thrust forward into nothingness as your ass swallows him greedily, glad to have something shoving into it again. How he'd love to shove his cock back in there. Before he loses the last of his nerve, he pulls out.

He takes one of his cocks and pushes it back into your cunt, filling you to your cervix in one go. You moan again, enjoying the sensation. A feeling that he didn't know before comes out deep from his belly. He wants an heir. He wants you to squeeze his heir out of your little cunt. He wants to breed you round and thick, right next to the dead woman who was just full of life. When his second head joins his cock in your cunt, you lose touch with the earth.

At first with effort, he presses his cock to the other one inside you. You've never felt anything like this in your life. Sukuna behind you almost becomes an animal and lets out an animalistic sound, “You have to take it, my little whore. I want to fuck you pregnant, I want to push a baby inside you. You must suck up all my semen.” His voice is hardly recognizable, but his words leave you speechless. The thought takes over your head and a hot feeling arises in you. How it will be to carry his heir in you and then to be fucked by him. Can he then pump your belly even thicker?

Slowly he presses in to his other cock and splits you in two. Your screams grow louder and never subside as he fucks your brains out slowly, but with a steady rhythm. It feels like even the last vestige of your soul is leaving your body. Trembling fingers reach between your legs and you touch his wet cocks, which thrust into you again and again. The feeling alone makes you stretch your ass higher again, your back painfully pushed through. When Sukuna puts his hand in your hair and painfully pulls your head back, there is nothing more than mush in your head. His pointed teeth sink into your shoulder and he bites deep enough that blood oozes from the wound, which he licks away. "Such a good whore," he murmurs against your ear, "you taste so good, I'll never let you go." His words send a warm shiver down your body and pleasant goosebumps form, making your nipples hard again. His thrusts become harder, more brutal as he abuses your hole.

Your knots tighten as one body works with the other. Your voices echo through the room, mixing with the sounds his cocks create in you. A few more thrusts, then you come a third and final time for the moment. "Luckily, I decided to keep you back then," he growls as his balls pump themselves empty inside you. Two cocks at once fill your belly to the top, no one could keep that amount of juice inside, which is why most of it misses. He fucks you through his orgasm. As time goes by, his thrusts become less precise and slower before he pulls out of you and you hit the floor. Breathing heavily, you lie with your cheek in the remaining blood, most of it already drawn into your clothes or spread on you or him. Sukuna sits down backwards, bends one leg, and casually places his left arm over his knee. His gaze wanders over the living mess in front of him and his dead heart makes a little beat. He would make you walk around naked all the rest of the day to see your fat belly and his handprints on you. Again and again, he will come to you, bend you forward and look at your full, stretched hole. His pride could not be greater. His little human takes equal both cocks in her hole and will give birth to his heir. No, many heirs. Once you've turned around, forced your tired body to move, and can look at him again with wide dark eyes, a smile settling on your lips, he grins back, " A little break before I bring in your next victim, how does that sound?"

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #sukuna imagine #sukuna simp #jujutsu kaisen x you

[science-hoes]

Jealous

Summary: I’ve finally done it. I have written my first seggs fic. Get ready for some smut. Steve flirts with the Reader and Bruce gets super jealous.

Pairing: Bruce Banner x f!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, age gap, office sex, Steve Rogers

You were balancing a cupholder of coffees in your hand when you scanned your fingerprint for access into the lab. Tony often sent you on small errands for the team since you didn’t have a real job besides being an Avenger. Tony still helped Pepper run Stark Industries, Bruce switched between guest lecturing at renowned universities and taking up patients at the hospital in the city, Clint had his workshop and taught archery at a local high school, but you…well, you were still a college student. So on days that you didn’t have more than one class, Tony had you do “secretary” things. Like get coffee.

“Coffee is here!” Tony announced when he saw you enter through the glass doors.

Bruce turned around from the whiteboard he was writing on and rolled his eyes. “Tony, quit bothering her. She needs to be studying for her classes.” He scolded.

Since Bruce decided to take up for you, you handed him his coffee first. “You mean to assume that I’m not naturally smart like you and have to study?” You asked teasingly.

Bruce took the coffee from your hands, fingers brushing against yours in the exchange. A small zap of yearning electricity charged up your arm. “You don’t need to study?” Bruce deadpanned.

Tony walked over and plucked his coffee from the cupholder that you held. “Quit trying to find a way to get rid of my coffee mule.” He nagged before taking a much needed sip from the cup. “I’ve got to go anyway, Pepper needs some help with important company things. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Don’t worry about that.” You replied as Tony left the lab.

Bruce chuckled at your comment before leaning against the table that you had perched yourself on. “So how are your classes going?” He asked.

You shrugged, swinging your legs and watching your feet. “They’re alright. Besides, I’ve got the world’s smartest Avenger to help me whenever I want.” You responded playfully.

Bruce smiled, his cheeks blushing just noticeably. Just as he was about to make a snarky remark back to you, Steve walked into the lab. You both turned as the doors opened.

“Hey, Steve!” You greeted happily.

Steve grinned at you as he walked over. “Just the girl I wanted to see.” He responded.

Bruce simply nodded in greeting at Steve before walking back over to the whiteboard to continue his calculations. That was weird. But you turned back to face the soldier.

“What can I do for you, Cap?” You asked.

Steve placed his arm on the table you sat on, leaning against the frame, which brought his body closer to yours. His dry-fit shirt was hardly of any use because the fabric sculpted the shape of every single muscle and vein underneath. But hey, you weren’t complaining. “I need you to look into a person of interest that attends your university. Possible connection to a recent string of threats going to a SWORD agent. I left the files in your room to look over when you’re ready.” He explained.

You nodded as you soaked in the information. “Yeah, I can totally do that.” You agreed with a sparkling grin.

Your smile made Steve grin in response. “Great, just let me know when you get that done. Thanks, doll.” He said before moving to head out. “Doctor Banner, make sure you watch out for this one. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Bruce never turned around, but only responded “Yes, sir.”

Steve left, and you were still grinning like an idiot. “He called me doll.” You squealed turning back to Bruce.

“Mmhmm.” Bruce curtly mumbled.

You tilted your head in confusion before hopping off the table. “What, that’s not interesting to you?” You teased, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder to turn him around.

Bruce met your eyes, and you stumbled backward a bit. His eyes were electric green, and the patches of green were slowly crawling up his neck to his jawline. “No, it’s not.” He growled involuntarily.

You found yourself a little turned on from the feral sound that he made when he spoke. “Doctor Banner, are you okay?” You asked, bravely taking another step forward.

Bruce closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and letting it out. The green slowly faded from his neck, and when his eyes opened again, they were the dark chocolate brown that sparkled with the lights in the room. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered calmly, as if nothing happened.

But you could tell he was still very aware that he couldn’t play this off like he wanted to. You took another step forward, almost closing the distance between your bodies. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

“It was nothing.” He answered as he turned back to his whiteboard and continued scribbling.

“You almost Hulked out on Steve!” You exclaimed, grabbing him by the tie to turn him back around to you.

Bruce wasn’t expecting to be forcibly moved like that, and he stumbled so that your bodies pressed together. The feeling of his exposed forearms brushing against your hands sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers brushed against the veins that you often stared at while you visited the lab.

“I did not almost Hulk out on Steve.” Bruce defended himself, pulling his arms from your hands.

You scoffed, but then grinned and jab your finger in his chest. “You were so jealous!” You exclaimed.

And that flustered Bruce more than anything. “No, I was not.” He tried to step backward, but you grabbed his tie again to keep him close to you.

“Really? It didn’t bother you that Steve called me doll? The 1940s equivalent of sweetheart?” You pushed.

And the flare of green that radiated from Bruce’s irises gave you the answer you wanted. He didn’t say anything in defense, trying to focus his energy on suppressing his intrusive thoughts.

“What are you gonna do about it? Just let him flirt with me like that?” You teased, but in a different sense.

Bruce didn’t realize how close his face was to yours until he could feel your sweet breath on his face. He carefully lifted his glasses off his nose as his vision became clearer with green eyes. “I want to make you mine.” He growled, his voice guttural and deep.

You reached your hands inside of Bruce’s lab coat and rested them on his hips. “Show me how.” You whispered.

And that sent him over the edge. Bruce grabbed your arm and dragged you into his office. He kicked the door shut and slammed you against it, kissing your neck with an unexpected force. You moaned at the sudden contact and the wonderful feeling of his teeth sinking into your skin as he sucked. He grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you around his waist. You grabbed his face from your neck and directed his lips onto yours. Your first ever taste of him. He was so savory and you couldn’t get enough of him.

You shoved his lab coat off his shoulders and began quickly working at the buttons of his shirt before discarding it as well. You ran your hands eagerly across his skin, feeling the friction from his chest hair against your fingers. Your lips only parted so you could take in his appearance, something you’ve wanted to do for so long. His blood vessels bulging from his skin were illuminating with green, but he still wasn’t changing.

“Are you going to be okay?” You asked with concern.

Bruce nodded. “I’ve got this under control. Just let me have you.” He pleaded huskily.

You granted him permission by crashing your lips against his again. He grabbed your shirt and quickly ripped it off your body. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. But you were so turned on by his force. He shoved your bra up and his mouth moved down to your breasts, sucking roughly at each nipple, with a mix of gentle biting and tugging with his teeth. Your hands were tangled in his curly hair, pushing him closer to your body when he did something you liked. While he worked magic on your chest, he hiked your skirt up and pushed your panties to the side. His large fingers carefully worked their way inside, pumping against your walls. The sounds you made only drove Bruce more crazy.

You were trembling at the pleasure he was giving you. You felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, and a white flash blinded your shut eyes as your first orgasm rolled through your body. Bruce gently kissed up your neck back to your lips and removed his fingers from inside you. You opened your eyes just enough to watch him suck your juices off his fingers. You moaned at the sight, somehow becoming more wet.

“You taste so good, baby.” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Bruce shifted to balance you on his knee for a moment as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down. You could see his cock pressing defiantly against his underwear, and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on it. You reached for his underwear and snatched them down. His cock sprung out, much larger than you would have ever expected. And it wasn’t even green.

“Do you think you can take it, darling?” Bruce asked you gently, brushing his fingers against your cheek.

You nodded eagerly. “Bruce, I need you.” You pleaded.

Bruce moved his hands up your thighs, positioning you above his cock. He slowly lowered you until the tip began to penetrate your pussy. You hissed from the sting as your walls were stretched.

Bruce pressed a kiss against your cheek. “Tell me what you need. Let me know when you’re ready for more.” He whispered lovingly.

The change in tone made your heart flutter. You nodded when you were ready to keep going. Slowly, Bruce lowered you until he was completely bottomed out in your pussy. He let out a shaky moan, almost a growl.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, refusing to move without your permission.

You nodded, digging your nails into his back. “I’m okay. Please keep going.” You begged.

And with that, Bruce pulled all the way out and slammed back into you with alarming power. You screamed at the wonderful feeling, scratching your nails down his back. Your screams only encouraged him to keep repeating the same action, emptying you completely and immediately filling you back up. But soon those thrusts became quicker and more rhythmic. He bounced you on his cock, gripping your hips tightly. Hopefully nobody opened the door to his office or else they’d be greeted with your bare ass.

It was only a matter of seconds before you felt another orgasm building up. “Bruce, I’m g-gonna come again.” You managed to say.

Bruce grunted as he felt your walls slowly tighten around him. “Gah, me too.” He buried his face in your neck, quickening his pace. “Where do you want me to come?” He asked.

You pulled him closer to you as you got closer and closer to your end. “Inside me, please. I want to feel you fill me up.” You begged.

And that was all he needed to hear. Bruce gave a few more powerful thrusts before you clenched around his cock and he coated your walls. He held you close to him, tucking your head into his shoulder as you both came down from your highs. You clung to him, taking deep breaths to calm down. Slowly he pulled out, and you felt his come drip out of you. He walked over to the couch that resided in his office and carefully laid you down on it. He grabbed the blanket that rested on top of it and wrapped it around you before sitting down as well. He lifted you into his arms and cradled your body close to him.

You noticed his eyes were back to normal and the green skin patches had vanished. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.” You whispered.

Bruce chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead. “Maybe you should’ve made me jealous sooner.” He responded.

You giggled, running your fingers through his hair. “See, I knew you were jealous.”

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x reader smut #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers #hulk smut #hulk x reader #hulk #incredible hulk

[azaleavi]

Injury

Requested by anon: Is it okay if I request a smut with Bucky being injured from a mission and reader doesn't wanna have sex with him because she's afraid to hurt him but he convinces her he's okay?

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut 18+, talk about stabbing, language, dirty talk, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Author’s note: Thank you for requesting dear nonnie! I hope you like it! I got a little carried away so I hope you don’t mind.

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

18+ MINORS DNI

The jet landing on the roof alerted you on you place on your couch. Switching between channels you waited for the team to walk out of the elevator. What you didn't expect was Friday's voice telling you that Bucky got injured and they were taking him to the med bay. Shooting up from your seat you ran to the elevator frantically pressing the buttons as if it could make it come faster. When the door finally opened you stepped inside, pushing the button to the floor where the man you loved was, injured. You didn't know how bad it was, not waiting for Friday to explain.

The doors opened again and you started running. Following the noise you quickly found the team standing outside a door.

"What happened? Is he fine?" you spoke fast, panicking, stopping in front of the door, wanting to go in.

"Hey, it's fine" Steve stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulder to keep you outside the room. "They are treating him so you can't go in." he pulled on your body to get away from the entrance.

"But what happened?" you calmed down a little, but your heart was still beating rapidly, worried for your man.

"He got stabbed in the side." you sucked in a sharp breath. "But he will be fine, the wound is not that deep and the serum will help him heal fast." he spoke calmly. You let out a sigh just as the door opened and the doctor walked out with Bucky right behind him. You were in front of him in a few steps, worry clear in your eyes.

"Shouldn't he be resting?" you turned to the doc. How can he just walk around like this when he was stabbed? Were you the only one worried for his health?

"No, it's only a small wound. He didn't even need stitches." the doctor reassured you.

"You realize I'm right here, right?" he teased you, but the look you gave him shut his mouth.

"Yes and you should to be in bed, resting" you grabbed his hand and started pulling him after you. You had a lot of strength for your small body so you could easily drag him along. And he also let you, but you didn't need to know that. "We are going to your room and you are not leaving that bed until tomorrow, understood?" you pointed at him when you were in the elevator again.

"Yes ma'am" he nodded with a smirk playing on his lips. He had a few ideas how he could spend the rest of the day in bed with you. And it definitely didn't involve resting.

Walking into his room you immediately pushed him onto the bed. He grabbed your waist to pull you into his lap, but you held yourself up by placing your hands on his shoulder.

"No, Bucky, you need to rest and heal" you shook your head.

"I'm not trying to do anything. I just want you close to me" his beautiful baby blue eyes were enough to convince you as you sighed and let him sit you on his lap. Legs on either side of him you buried your head in his neck, your hands going to his hair.

"I was worried, hell, I'm still worried" you mumbled into his shoulder.

"I know, doll, but I'm fine." he placed your hand on his injury to show you he was truly fine. It really wasn't that bad. "See? Everything is fine" he smiled at you when you pulled away to look at him. "So..." he stretched out the last syllable as each hand gripped one of your ass cheeks, pulling you closer so you could feel the already growing bulge in his pants. "as I'm perfectly fine. I haven't seen you in 3 days and I missed your beautiful body under me." breath hitting the shell of your ear he whispered, making you arch your back into him. You almost got lost in him, but then you remembered that he was injured so you pushed against his chest to put some distance between you.

"You are hurt, Bucky. We can't let it get worse just because you are horny." you explained to him, not amused.

"It won't get worse. I'm a super-soldier remember?" he pulled you back and in one swift motion he flipped the two of you around so you were lying under him. He pushed you up on the bed until your head was on the pillows, his body on top of you, between your legs.

"Bucky!" you let out a small scream at his fast movement, which turned into a moan as he rolled his hips against you.

"What was that, doll?" he smirked into the skin on your neck, his hands traveling down and disappearing into your sweatpants to rub your clit through the fabric of your panties. His name leaving your lips again like a prayer, you lifted your hips to get him to move harder, but he pulled his finger away. Letting out a needy whine you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He pulled your pants down along with your panties in one swift motion, making you moan as the air hit your wet folds. You opened your legs for him as he stood up to take off his pants, making his hands halt at zipper, his whole body frozen as he stared at you like you were the most beautiful art he has ever seen. The sight of you lying only covered by a t-shirt on his bed, legs bent at the knees, open and so ready for him, so eager had his cock strain against his pants harder, almost painfully. He pulled it down with his boxers, leaving him completely naked for you, his cock standing at attention, ready to please you in every way you wanted. Eyes roaming up and down his body you let out a loud breath, his body never failing to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

"Take off that shirt, babydoll" he growled, hating the piece of fabric hiding you from his eyes. You quickly sat up and removed every last clothing you had on, never closing your legs. Hungry eyes traveled down your waiting body as you laid back down. They stopped at your glistening center, making you move your hips slightly, only for him to see. He groaned at the sight, his hand going to his cock and stroking it a few times. He wanted to look at you looking like this for an eternity, but his body couldn't wait any longer so he knelt at the bottom of the bed, eyes never leaving you.

"I wish I could take a picture of you like this" he crawled towards you on all fours, like a predator stalking his prey and you were the subject of his hunger. You opened your legs further as if offering yourself up for him, ready to be devoured. "So beautiful and so ready for me" he came face to face with you, his eyes following his index finger brushing along your body from the base of your neck to your wet pussy that was leaking onto the bed. Your body followed his movement, arching into his touch. "Would you like that?" he pushed his finger inside you, sliding in easily as you were already so wet, earning a loud moan. "Hmm?" he hummed into your ear, not moving his finger, waiting for your answer. You didn't even remember what he said, all your senses focused on his touch.

"I-" just as you opened your mouth to speak he pulled out his finger, making the words get stuck in your throat as you threw your head back.

"I want you to use your words" he growled, not pleased by your lack of focus. "You understand?" he looked into your eyes, the intensity in them almost making you moan again.

"Yes, yes I understand" you scrambled to answer.

"Good girl" his finger entered you again as a reward. His praise and his touch together made you let out a loud breath, your nails scratching on his back.

"You are so responsive to me. I love it." his thumb circled your clit. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" he was testing you to see if you learned from what happened before.

"Yes, I am" you arched your back as he let out a pleased chuckle.

"That's a good girl" he kissed down your body until he reached your mound, your hips moving constantly, trying to feel more. His metal hand gripped your hips so strongly you were sure it would leave bruises the next day, but right now it only added to your desire, your walls clenching around his finger.

His tongue finally touched your clit, your legs unconsciously closing around his head to keep him there. He pulled his finger out so his hands can push open your legs by your thighs again, even more than it was before. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue moved in every direction between your folds. You couldn't stop moving your hips in sync with him, moans spilling out of your mouth one after the other. He grabbed your hips to keep you down, his forearms keeping your legs open for him.

"Bucky, oh my god" you grabbed his hands as his tongue entered you briefly. He looked up from under his eyelashes as he did it again, your nails digging into his skin leaving crescent marks behind. Pupils blown as wide as they can be making your eyes almost fully black, mouth open in a silent moan, you were a sight he never wanted to forget. If it meant you looked like this under him every time he used his tongue on you, he would do it again and again and again until you couldn't take it anymore. He pushed harder against you, your back arching up from the bed in response. He pushed his tongue inside you again.

" 'm close- Bucky" you keened.

"Be a good girl and come for me" he talked into your wet folds, the vibration snapping the coil inside your stomach as white hot pleasure rushed through you, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. He worked you through your orgasm and only stopped when you pulled him upwards by his hair, the bundle of nerves becoming sensitive. Climbing up he pressed a few wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck, his right hand drawing circles on your hipbone. The tip of his erect member brushed against your wet clit, making you gasp.

"Are you sensitive, doll?" he pressed his soft lips on your cheek.

"Yes" you closed your eyes as his lips found yours in a deep kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, making you sigh.

"But you can take another one, can't you?" he nipped at the skin on your jaw. He spent enough time with and mostly inside your body to know the answer to his question, but he wanted to make sure you were fine. Forcing or pushing you was never something he wanted to do and if you said no he would immediately stop, no matter how turned on he was. He could always take care of himself if needed.

"Yes. I want you inside me" your words made his hand travel down to your clit again, rubbing a few circles on it.

"Mhm, so good to me" he mumbled into your skin as your hips started moving again. A finger entered your warm walls for a second time, a second one joining not long after, stretching you out.

"Bucky" you threw your head back on the pillows, his lips sucking on the skin on your neck. "Shit- I want your cock... please" you moaned, barely being able to form sentences. He pulled his fingers out, making you writhe at the emptiness. His tongue darted out to lick and suck his them clean, letting go with a pop. The sight was enough to get you even more wet than you already were. His hard cock pressed against you folds to gather the wetness on them. He grabbed you leg and pulled it up to wrap it around his hips. Your body never resting under him, you constantly fidgeted as the desire became too much.

"Inside me, Bucky please-" you pleaded and he heard your prayers as in one motion he was inside you to the hilt, your wetness strong enough for it to not hurt. The sound you let out was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever heard, making him move out and then forcefully back into you, your tight walls engulfing him. You felt every inch of him stretching you out, the slight pain only adding to the overwhelming feeling, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"You okay?" he stilled for a minute to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

"More than okay" you sighed, lifting your hips to make him move again. He understood your signal as he started sliding in and out of you in a slow pace, enjoying every minute of it.

"Bucky" his name was the only thing leaving your mouth, like a prayer. To whom, you didn't know.

He felt your walls clench around him, making him pick up the pace and bring your legs up and around his waist. The new angle allowed him to dive into your harder, your legs squeezing to pull him impossibly closer. Your lips found his in a messy kiss. You felt his cock twitch inside you as he moaned.

" 'm close" he groaned into your lips as he started moving more frantically, chasing his high. One hand found your clit as he rubbed circles on it, trying to get you to finish together.

"Fuck- Bucky" your arms wrapped around his neck as he bit down on your neck almost hard enough to draw blood. "Cum inside me please" you whined so close to the edge.

"Cum with me, doll" he snapped his hips against yours, balls slapping against your thighs, fingers not leaving the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"James!" you screamed as you fell apart, him not far behind you, his name leaving your lips sending him over the edge. He thrust inside you a few times before pulling out as you both came down from your orgasms. His body falling next to you he let out a puff of air.

"Are you tired, old man?" you turned your head at him, joking.

"You know very well I could go a few more rounds" he smirked at you, leaning over you to press a soft kiss on your mouth. Being a super-soldier had its perks, not getting tired that easily being one of them. But you weren't one so Bucky had to hold himself back from jumping you, fingers itching to touch you and make you sing underneath him again.

But then your eyes shut closed, your hand searching for his blindly and when it found it's missing puzzle piece, pulling it to your face to press it against your cheek a sigh leaving your lips, he realized that these moments were far more precious than anything else he could have done. A small smile worked it's way onto his face, watching you get comfortable, the need to feel him next to you while you rested, making his heart melt. The love he felt for you almost overwhelming him as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. A small smile showed on your lips as you sighed, content with his touch.

"I love you" you whispered so quietly he almost didn't hear you.

"I love you too" he whispered back, not wanting to break the moment by speaking louder.

The orange glow of the setting sun shone trough the window illuminating the two hearts beating for each other as their bodies touched, resting, knowing well that when the sun greeted them in the morning they would still be here, still holding onto the other, their hearts forever beating as one.

-

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[little-diable]

Affection - Loki Drabble (fluff)

Requested by anon. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is needy for some affection

Warnings: none, just fluff

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (700 words)

“Please,” a whine rolled off her tongue as she tried to make herself comfortable on his lap. He had his gaze focused on his book, rolling his eyes as he lifted his arms for her to crawl closer.

She had been clingy for a few days now, begging him for his attention, anything to soothe the ache and the longing in her chest. (Y/n) could tell that the start of her period was coming closer, the uncomfortableness that stretched itself through her body seemed to tell her enough.

Whenever she’d get like this, she would try to find him, to lay her head on his chest while he would mindlessly play with her hair. Loki would manage to take away her pain, to make her feel appreciated and loved.

With one single touch everything would fall back into place, no longer would she feel lonely and misunderstood, no longer did she have to fight the tears that would burn in her eyes.

Loki would always be right there to protect her from herself and the dark thoughts that clouded her mind.

If he was nowhere to be found she would turn to Steve or Bucky, sometimes even Sam if he was close. Something about them pressing her to their broad frames gave her some sense of safety, satisfying her clingy self. Neither of them would ever question her need for affection, they enjoyed being around her and they cherished her just as much.

“Do you need anything, pet?” Loki’s eyes found hers, hand placing his book down to comb his fingers through her hair. She only shook her head no, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His scent engulfed her, cozied her along as waves of tiredness clashed upon her.

Most of the time she’d fall asleep on either one of them, but whenever she would find Loki she would try to hold onto him, even if he would rise from his position to flee from the nearing Avengers. He would carefully carry her to his room, would plop down on his bed with (y/n) still pressed against him.

If the world outside wouldn’t ask for them, they could stay there for days on end, just the two of them, with wandering hands and racing hearts.

“Loki?” Her drowsy voice echoed through his bedroom, gaining his attention once again. A small “mhm” left him, eyes wandering over her features, hands placed on the small of her back, keeping her pressed against him. Slowly he dipped his head down to meet her lips, placing a soft kiss on them. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, straddling his lap.

“I love you.” The words he had heard (y/n) speak to him all too many times before still managed to make his heart rumble in delight, twisting in his chest. He had never replied to it before, not because Loki was unsure of his love for her, but because he still struggled to accept that he was worthy of hers.

“Do you?” Loki’s grin began to widen as (y/n) giggled against his lips, hands toying with the fabric of his dark sweater, desperate to free him from the confines of his clothing. She was needy for him, wanting to feel his naked skin pressed against hers.

“Of course I do.” Her nails left scratches on his chest, tracing his now exposed abs, lips wandering down his throat, doing anything to distract herself from the uncomfortableness that lingered inside of her.

With a smile on his lips he pulled her even closer, clinging to her like she was a grain in an hourglass, threatening to slip through his fingers. Loki was prepared to lay with her all through the night, at least till she would beg him for some food.

And even though he tried to keep his feelings hidden from the others, they all knew that Loki would go to the end of all time for her, he would do anything to make her as happy as she’d deserve to be.

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[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fool

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: It all spills over.

Word count: 8.8k~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SMUT (WE MADE IT FOLKS), thigh riding, fingering/hand job, very brief breathplay/choking, cum eating¿? Angst/emo shit (I'm so sorry i have no self control)

Notes: HI FRIENDS, wow it's been a minute. Sorry for the massive delay. For anyone wishing to start KOC, now would be the perfectly spicy chapter to do so! This chapter was Herculean. idk why. Love you guys, enjoy! x (gif credit : @djarinsgf)

“Maker,” you bemoan, shielding your face from the heavy beat of the suns.

You’ve known warmth—you were raised in warmth. This is beyond it.

It’s not just warm, it’s sweltering. The heat is oppressive, congealing the air to mist; you can barely see through it what with the sweat running into your eyes. Tall, craggy dunes line the valley of desert, trapping the planet’s hot pulse within their walls. Your steps crunch along the dry, pebbled earth as you swat at the gnats buzzing in ribbons around your head.

A muffled gurgle sounds from behind you and you slow to a halt, boots gritting into the cracked top soil.

“You doing alright back there, Munch?” you ask, craning your head to the child nestled into the carrier fashioned onto your back. A green ear pokes free from the top, and you can see the jewel of his black eyes peering at you through the gauzy cloth you draped over it. He grunts, and you give a small shrug—shifting the pack by the straps, eliciting a giggle out of him. “We can always turn back, okay? I’m not going to be mad.” Another noise, a happy coo this time, and you shimmy your shoulders again, jostling the bag playfully.

“Well, you just let me know.”

Your conversations usually unfold this way. They leave much to be desired, but you’d like to think you understand one another—in fact, you probably understand the kid more than you understand his dad.

You’ve grown close with him, you’ll be the first to admit it. You’re attached to each other. The little one has been your constant companion for these months and in some ways, you suppose he takes care of you just the same as you take care of him. The chamber of space can be lonely; it’s cold and unkindly reflective, stranding you to the echoed chain of your thoughts—but when he tugs at your hair or slobbers spittle down the front of him or crawls up into your lap to nestle into your tunic, it feels like you belong there—there on the Crest, streaming through the galaxy.

And maybe, simply, it feels good to do right by a child—as if you could make up for it somehow, within yourself. To do better than you were given.

Squinting, you raise your wrist to check the coordinates on your comm and shade a hand over the screen, blocking the glare cast onto the display. “Almost there,” you mumble, resuming your stride as you begin the last leg of the trek to the settlement you and Mando discussed that morning.

“What?” he asked, planted some paces away from you.

You hummed a curious note, glancing to him.

“What is it?”

You were trying to be small all morning—shrunken and shy, avoiding the thought and avoiding him all together. You quieted yourself, as if to not take up space, but the attempt was fruitless; of course he picked up on it – you get good at reading people on the job, he’d said – and of course he called you out on your behavior. You took a big gulp of your caf, gaze flickering down—increasingly more and more invested in the scuffs marked into the table you sat at.

“Dala,” he said pointedly, arms folding over the breadth of his chest.

Shit. Who did you think you were fooling? Playing possum with a Mandalorian?

Worrying your lip, you stood. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, just looming there across the table from you, so you paced around the deck as you rambled. “Okay, so you know how I’m still connected to the RRM channels? Well, I’ve been checking the message boards and I—there’s a settlement here out in the Wastes. It’s small and new and they’re looking for volunteers and—”

You whistled in a breath. Fuck it.

“And I want to help.”

Like the toggle of a switch, you went from having a career—having a purpose—to having nothing. And all your gratitude for the transport he’s offering couldn’t fill that empty lull that’s settled inside you.

“Would you be comfortable with letting me take the kid? I know I’m probably asking a lot—and I will fully respect whatever you decide—but I can keep him by me the whole time, I swear, I just—” You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut before sighing, “I need to be doing something. Anything.”

There was a long pause. You scratched at the torn skin around your cuticle, nervously searching the pitch of his wordless visor. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even twitch.

“That’s fine,” he finally remarked, graveled.

You blinked, taken aback at his agreement, and all at once your fidgeting ceased and a bright grin broke out over your features in its place.

It nearly brought him to his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he nodded, a subtle tilt to his helm. “Maker, thank you,” you exclaimed, and without thinking you flew towards him, flinging your arms around his neck and sealing yourself to his armored frame. His arms escaped out from his chest in surprise, suspended and stiff, before falling measuredly to his sides. You could’ve been imagining it, but you swore you heard the distinct grit of his teeth grinding together under his helmet.

“Really Mando,” you beamed, pulling back to lay your eyes on him, to let him see the earnest there: you have no idea how much this means to me. “Thank you.”

You gave his shoulders a squeeze, thumbs brushing along the scratchy fabric of his cape before tearing yourself away. Swiping up your mug of caf, you wound down the corridor - airy, buoyant - back to your makeshift quarters to prepare for your outing. It took him another minute just to get his damn feet to move from the spot on the durasteel you welded him to.

Din told you to be safe.

You smiled, and promised you would.

You left the Crest before him and it was strange, surreal. For the first time, you stood in each other’s shoes, leaving Din there on his own while you set off into the world. He watched you go—you and his boy—watched you walk away into some great unknown without him.

And he didn’t like it.

He soured, somewhere in the deep of him—within that pit he called a gut, he twisted sick.

Your feet hit the ramp, dull and tinny, and it sounded like goodbye—it sounded like you leaving. It’s what it will look like when time and fate touch, and inevitability catches up with him. It’s what it will look like when he takes you home. You’ll walk out of his life, down that same ramp, and your steps will echo those same beats. You won’t look back.

And Din, with all his strength, all his unshakeable resolve—Din will let you go.

///

The encampment is settled into the shadow of a cliffside, seeking respite there from the blazing suns, the taupe of the canvas shanties camouflaging into the arid landscape. Some crawl their gaze up as you enter the village, and you offer them smiles they do not return. Others do not acknowledge your presence at all— unstirred as your footsteps sound past, their heads bound heavy towards the earth. It’s not long before a decisive voice cuts through the hush that’s claimed the settlement.

“Are you with the RRM?”

You turn and are greeted by a woman ducking out of a tent—the grey of her woven tunic browned with sand, heat collecting in her black, coiled hair.

“Yes, I’m with the Movement.” It’s not a total lie. Sure, you’re on leave, but that doesn’t discount you completely. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

With a sharp exhale like a prayer of relief, she makes her way towards you. “Where’s the rest of your division?” Her eyes narrow discerningly, flitting behind you as if expecting to spot the rear of your party trickling in.

“It’s, uh—it’s just me,” you confess, pressing your lips together in a thin smile.

She rakes a hand over her hair, over her face. The skin around her knuckles is split, the beds of her nails chalked with days of unwashed grime. “Alright,” she concedes begrudgingly, without any better option presented. “And who is this?” She nods to the child, emerging from the pack and staring curiously at her.

“This is—” You take a moment to consider it—consider the secrecy around the child, the bounties, the life on the lam. Less is more, you decide. Again, it’s not a total lie. “I’m babysitting.”

The kid grunts an emphatic patu.

You both share a look—a quirk of her dark brow, an apologetic heft of your shoulder—and she sighs. “Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she quips dryly with a wave of her hand, leading you into the settlement.

///

She’s coarse, this woman—Arlaani, she told you—matronly and effective. She has a calculating gaze and powerful shoulders that she holds steady as she shows you through the camp. There are lines around her eyes, carved into the curves of her mouth. She knows what you know—what all women learn: sometimes you must be hard in order to keep others soft.

You walk shoulder to shoulder, matching her long strides with your own.

“The Black Sun has taken the southern hemisphere; their numbers have only grown since the Battle of Yavin. Pirates, mercenaries, spice runners—they’ve ransacked one half of the planet and have the officials of the other half in their pocket,” she scowls. “They have stolen our land, our homes—we’re moisture farmers, mechanics, mothers and fathers. We are simple people and we have been forgotten by our government—by those who vowed to represent us, protect us.” Arlaani draws in a long breath. “We’re on our own out here in the Wastes.”

You survey the area; the lifeless ocean of rock and sand, the few scattered trees that have died on their feet—roots withering bone dry in the suns. “Why settle here if it’s so uninhabitable?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “Because, it’s uninhabitable,” Arlaani explains. “No one robs a beggar. There is nothing in the Wastes the Black Sun wants.”

There are no buildings, no structures; the whole area is undeveloped and raw. Tents are dotted sporadically in clusters, crates of supplies and water canteens stationed every other one. Children dawdle idly, tired and overheated, leaning against boxes and posts—their bellies distended and skin parched taut. Flies land on their shins, on their cheeks. They do not go to shoo them away.

“The Movement supplied those for us when we landed,” she comments, nodding to the crates. “That was two months ago.”

“No one has come back to check on you since?” you ask, brows notching together.

She shakes her head solemnly, jaw set rigid. “Our little ones go hungry, our elders are sick with red fever. We will run out of water before the week is through,” Arlaani says before she turns to you, holding your gaze—the seriousness evident in the stone of her eyes. “I thank the gods you are here.” She presses a palm to your shoulder. You feel the weight of it, the weight of her—of the lives she carries on her back.

“I thank the gods.”

///

You stop by each tent delivering what little food and medicine you brought with you from the Crest, and after each encounter—the people so grateful, so weary—your mind strays further and further to Mando.

Din, you scold yourself. Not Mando, Din. Din Djarin.

You still can’t bring yourself to say it.

He spent that whole fateful day nearly two weeks ago bristling at the very sight of you, going out of his way to limp to the other side of the ship just to ignore you better, only to do you in for one final head spin and give you his name.

Two weeks, and you still haven’t said it. There’s no other excuse: plainly - pitifully - you’re scared. You’re scared he regrets it.

Because how horrible of a truth would it be? To be offered something out of carelessness or guilt; to be the product of pity, or even worse, a mistake that cannot be unmade, cannot be rectified. He can’t take his name back, can’t unspeak it any more than you can unhear it, and this fear, picking at you like an old scab—it’s so painfully human, so terribly universal:

what if I’m not worth it?

And isn’t it easier to neglect the answer, then it is to ask the question.

So you’ve buried his name for both of your sakes, keeping it somewhere secret and private, there to garner dust in the quiet of your mind.

You’re brushing through the draped entrance of a tent when you spot him: a small boy hiding behind a supply crate, the top of his dusted head poking out over the ledge. You catch him peering at you, and he ducks down shyly. A honeyed grin blooms across your face.

“I think we’re being watched Munch,” you coo. The little ball of robes blinks up at you from your arms, earning his nickname tenfold as he crams his mouth with a flakey cracker. “You want to say hi?” He hums in response and you crouch, letting him wiggle free from you to toddle over to the other child. With small steps, he eventually makes it over to the other and immediately, without hesitation or provocation, extends one of his crackers to him.

Your heart swells until it bursts, proud and beautiful in your chest.

Munch leads him out from behind the box, the two boys shuffling slowly through the dirt back to you. He can’t quite meet your eyes—his gaze lands somewhere around your chin, your collarbone, and you fold forward, bent at the knees to meet his height.

“Do you have a name, sweetheart?” you ask kindly.

He nods, nibbling quietly on the cracker, and you breathe out a chuckle. “Not much of a talker, huh? I can respect that,” you say, eyes crinkling fondly with a smile. “Well if you want to tell me, you can—or not. That’s okay, too.”

He nods again, and you fish out more salty treats from the sleeve in your pack, gently handing them to the other—a gesture he nervously accepts, dirty fingers trembling as he plucks them from your open palm. This boy is precious—sweet faced and cherubic, he must not be a cycle over the age of seven.

And the realization comes so suddenly that it blindsides you—struck by it, there between your lungs: Din was his age when it happened—when life happened to him. When this could have happened to him.

You can’t help but think of it—think of him and everything he told you that night he came bleeding through the Razor Crest. You can’t stop imagining him; Din as a little boy tucked away, his people—his parents—decimated overhead. He is a Mandalorian by proxy. Displaced from his home, from his past, saved by a sect with an affinity for orphans—to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The irony of it all is not lost on you:

Din is a refugee too.

You see him in this boy, and in all the faces here—in every set of eyes, young and old alike. Each are individual - idiosyncratic - but they each wear the same qualifiers. The same exhaustion. They each fight the same tired battle, leaving them with identical sets of marks.

Does Din? If you were to see him, truly see him, would you find them there? You’ve seen the scars he’s earned from being a Mandalorian.

You wonder if he has any from simply being a man.

Pushing yourself to stand upright, you cradle Munch back into your chest, his teensy claws riddling your shirt, and offer the boy your hand—outstretched in front of you.

He’s cautious. Too cautious for a boy so young, for a child who should know nothing but abundant love and fearless imagination. He shouldn’t have had to learn this lesson: that some hands should not be taken, that some people should not be trusted. He studies you, hesitant but hopeful, and you smile softly—cycles of hard-won patience and empathy curving the corners of your lips.

He lays his small hand in your own. You walk on together.

///

The day blows by like hot desert wind, chafing at your skin. Minutes have ripened to hours—morning has crawled to midday.

The three of you finish your rounds— distributing rations throughout the camp, pitching tents, taking stock of the dwindling supplies for you to relay to the Movement once you return to the Crest and have access to your holopad.

It’s then that you notice Arlaani again. She’s speaking in hushed tones with another man, the both of them hunched over a large carton. You see the concern ticked clearly along the man’s jaw, the dread grooved into her brow, her crossed arms. With a frown, you plop the child down onto a nearby petrified log and the other boy joins, hopping up next to him, all too happy to get off his feet. You tell them not to wander off— a kiss to Munch’s forehead, a ruffle of the boy’s hair— before making your way to the couple.

“Hey,” you call, jogging over. “Is everything alright?”

Arlaani wheels around as you approach. It hasn’t been long since you’ve seen her, but somehow she looks older. Hollowed, drained— like there’s less and less in her. “It’s the water,” she grits out, “sand mites have gotten to the crates, to the canteens.” She tosses you one of the flasks. It’s littered with holes, porous and leaking— the remnants of water splashing out of the orifices bitten into the sides.

Arlaani dives through the crate, rifling through the supplies. She’s tense, upset, her voice is rife with it. “They’re all like this. Ruined, fucking—” She heaves out a hissed exhale and props herself up on the edge of the box, neck bowed between her shoulder blades. “This was the last of it, and now—now…”

The man tries his best - how do you comfort marble? - as he places an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns there, reassuring and calm but she wants nothing of it; she gruffly shrugs it off as if stung, weaseling out of his hold. “I can’t— I need to think,” Arlaani bristles, as she paces away from the settlement, receding deeper into the Wastes.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I have- I have to—” His eyes follow her shrinking form, worry apparent in the shape of them. It’s so obvious. He’s terrified of that woman—probably loves her, too.

“Go,” you say, and with a knowing expression, he turns and trots after her.

Heavy footed, heavy hearted, you trudge back to find the children exactly where you left them. Once there, you collapse to the hard ground, dust and dirt puffing up as you recline onto the log. Your palms run over the earth—scooping up sand and rock and letting it slip through the cracks of your fingers, gaze trained out onto the encampment—the people milling about, the miasma of helplessness stifling the air.

This isn’t enough. You’re not doing enough— these impermanent little nothings, your measly good deeds. It’s not going to matter. They’ll be bones by the time the next wave of volunteers rolls through. They’ll be grain.

You need to do something that lasts, that outlives you when you leave.

You glance over to the kid and his new friend, their little legs swinging off the edge of the trunk, heels thumping against the old wood. They look to you, two pairs of big eyes—crackers in their tiny fists.

“You boys ever dig a well?”

///|||///

The suns roast into his beskar, blistering him from the inside out.

The day has been long and it’s only half over. It took him longer than it should have to gather himself— his fob, his rifle, his fucking head—and depart the Crest. Longer than it should have to hunt the bounty here—some marauder scum who’s number is up and luck has run out. Longer than it should have to set up his sniper’s nest, sculpted into the mountainside.

Din is distracted, has been all day— has been since you left.

He can’t stop feeling you. Your warmth pushing against his chest, your arms looping around his neck, the heat of your palms searing through his flight suit. Din can smell you on him still— like citrus and moss, you cling to his cowl from where you buried your head.

It’s intolerable. It feels like an infection with how it’s been building, how this has spread— slowly but surely rearing to an unignorable head. Serpentine and insidious as it crept through him, this growing affliction— this morbid curiosity that spoiled like rotting stonefruit into infatuation— slipping along his bones and organs, blemishing Din in faint little licks— imperceptible to the naked eye but there all the same.

How did this happen? How did he become this?

You’ve been more relaxed now, bolder in some ways. Transparent. Sometimes, you’ll touch his arm as you walk by him or sweep your hair from your neck when you sit by his side in the cockpit, star shine on your jaw. You’re quick with a laugh, lips pulling back into a pretty grin. He’s even caught you staring at him, there out of the corner of his eye—from where he steals those same glances under the safety of his helm.

He spied you once, just a glimpse of your backside, padding quietly away from the shower with only your underwear on, drops of water tracking down your spine. It was brief, you were fast—you must have forgotten your shirt in your bunk—but he had to lock himself in his quarters and fuck his hand before he could even think about piloting the Crest into the stratosphere.

Din is a lot of things, but he isn’t daft. A part of him knows. A part of him is aware that you are two very human people with very human needs—and that you’ve been ignoring these primal aches with premeditated dereliction for months now.

And you can only dance around each other so long before one of you snaps.

And Maker, he’s so desperate to be rid of you—to get you out of his fucking system; to let him sleep without dreaming of you, to let him wake without plunging into his briefs and jerking himself off. You are everywhere. In his ship, in his galley, in his thoughts. He has no privacy, he has no sanctity— he has no idea how you have managed to worm yourself so deep into every living part of him. Others have tried and they have failed, and you— you did it in your sleep. From that very first fucking night, curled up in his chair, gore and ash stained tunic rising with your slumbered breathing. You snored.

You fucking snored.

And now you’re killing him— just as the suns above, you are blistering him from the inside out.

His level-headedness has all but evaporated. He’s peeved. Not only is Din distracted, but he's angry— has been since he plodded up this damn hill, waiting for his quarry to pass through the ravine between the valley of mountains—because instead of performing his job, he’s consumed with you. All of you.

He kneels, flattening himself against the rocky sand— your hands, so small and soft against him— and unclips the rifle from the strap on his back—how good you’d feel on his skin—he aligns his sights— the weight of your breasts in his palms—

His helmeted head clunks to the ground and he loses his aim, a frustrated growl emanating out from him. Focus, Mando. Fucking focus.

Din reorients his crosshair, training it on the gang of pirates in the gorge below. They lean haphazardly over their speeders, their cargo nets packed full with different wares and spices, jeering loudly and chugging from the jugs of spotchka they undoubtedly looted earlier that afternoon. He inspects the rabble, searching for his target and—those pretty lips that smile so easy for him, stretched around his length.

Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut.

You whispering husky into his ear as you ride him, you bent over the pilot’s chair begging for his cock, you sprawled out over the deck while he laps at your sweet cunt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck— he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere— you buffer his vision, his senses, his sight. He’s blinded with you. You’re blinding him.

With an infuriated heave he shoves himself off the ridge of the dune, bounty-less, and reverses his course back to the Crest—heart beating furious and bloody against his ribs.

///

The settlers surround the trench, peering down at you as you work. Hours ago, when you originally proposed this idea to Arlaani, they insisted on helping— to which of course, you insisted they didn’t. And so they watch— the refugees, Din’s foundling, the nameless boy— mangling their hands restlessly, animated with an inkling of that all too lethal substance long sought after by those of all species and creeds: hope.

You sink the shovel into the dry earth and your muscles burn with the effort—the skin on your palms stings from the rough grate of the wooden dowel and the yawn of your back strains as you pitch forward.

You’ve missed this.

You’ve been so distracted. You’ve grown comfortable in your routines, you’ve let yourself go listless—living in blissful ignorance—all because of a metal man in his metal ship with the most impossible and darling child you’ve ever known. All because your body reacts at the very sight of him, all because your belly flips when he speaks, that modulated purr rumbling loose from his beskar, all because, because—

You like him.

You wish you didn’t—you hardly know why you do—but you’ve soaked your fingers enough times in your rack to realize that this thing residing within you burns.

You can’t even see his face, and you don’t have to. His presence alone— that raw, vacuous energy that surges from him—it’s addicting. It's engulfing. It makes you whimper into the night, massaging your pearled clit as your other hand muffles your moans and you come over and over and over again, chasing after the fantasy you so dangerously harbor for this man. The man who’s piloting you back to Coruscant—the man who sleeps just down the hall.

But that isn’t real. That’s not real life— that’s not your life. This is real—the fuchsia of the setting suns blazing through the horizon, the sweat on your brow. You’ve missed this— Maker, you need this. Working with your hands, making an impact. You’re wanted here and kriff, does that not feel so unabashedly right. To be wanted. To be important.

Your back groans, the sinew woven over your spine aching in protest and you know, without a doubt, you’ll feel this for the next week. Half of you dreads it—being cooped up and sore, lactic acid compacting your joints— while the other excites at the prospect; the memory of a good deed lasting long after it’s finished. That reminder always there, always present: see, there’s still hope in the galaxy. We can still do good. There’s goodness where you look for it.

You fling dirt over your shoulder as you burrow lower and lower. With each shove, the soil changes hue, changes density—the striations darker, more definitive. It’s less dry now, thicker too—turning from sand to clay the deeper you dig. Again, you drive the spade into the sod with a taxed grunt, when you hear a distinct, wet squish.

You pause, stilling your shovel in the dirt. Everything - everyone - freezes.

Adrenaline thrums through you as you drop to your knees, using your hands to brush away loose silt piled atop the loamy floor, excavating what lies beneath.

Prayers and hollers erupt above you and you lurch your focus up to the sound, a feverish grin plastered to your face. The little boy jostles the child excitedly, and his green talons rumple the other’s tattered tunic. Your head falls back, cushioned by the dirt wall and you laugh - gargled, relieved - as water begins to seep through the tired ground.

Bubbling up, bubbling up—unearthing.

///

The promise of ridding yourself of your soiled clothes was the singular thought that fueled your trek back to the Crest. Every inch of you was filthy, caked in dried mud and gritty sand and you wanted nothing more than to strip from those dirty layers and melt into your bedroll. The kid, that lucky little bugger, had passed right out; sun drunk from his long day, he’d slept the entirety of the return trip—stirring only once when you placed him in the hover pram and sealed it shut.

Your bones are worn. Your tissue, your tendons— every little scrap that keeps you stitched together craves sleep. You reckon you should feel miserable, what with the tell-tale stiffness already burdening your spine and the fresh callus from the shovel’s handle reddening your palm.

But you’re not miserable, not even close. No, you’re happy—you’re glowing; fulfilled and serene, humming as you wash your pants in the basin, kneading at the sopping fabric. You wring out the article, shaking free the excess droplets before draping it on a metal rung overhead. You peel off your shirt and bra band next, leaving you only in your underwear as you plop them into the bowl and begin to scrub at the stains, concentrating on a particularly dirty patch at the sleeve.

The grating mechanics of the Crest’s great jaw unhinging sends your stomach bounding frantic to your lungs.

Kriff—shit shit shit, he’s back early.

Clutching onto your modesty, you cover your breasts and scramble to your quarters, quickly shimming a loose tunic over your head. Its hem barely covers the curve of your ass and you tug long at the cloth before peeking cautiously from the doorway and tiptoeing out of your room.

“Hey,” you warble, rounding a corner as solid feet pound up the ramp—you can feel their reverberations in the floor under your own. You pad into the galley, pulling at your shirt as you go, to tidy up the washing you left unattended. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so—”

You falter.

He’s there at the mouth of the ship, the ramp drawing slowly up behind him and he’s fuming; you can practically see the steam lifting from his armor and his breathing is labored—chest rising, plummeting violently. You both stand immobilized on opposite sides of the hull—you, bare-legged and exposed and Din, all but anonymous under the steeled fury of his armor. Finally, the sound dampens, ship shuddering as she seals shut—sealing you in—and the leather of his fist creaks in the silence hanging dense like smoke around you.

“Mando...?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response. Instead he begins to stalk forward, stripping weapon after weapon from himself with every thundering step—rifle, blaster, vibroblade—he sloughs it all, metal clanging against metal as they clatter to the deck.

“Hey, what’s wrong-”

He’s not stopping. Fuck, he’s getting closer and closer and instinctually you back up—staggering until you’re pressed against the bulkhead—his broad frame crowding you until all you see is the silver polish of his beskar. You jolt when his hands fly up and slam into the wall behind you, framing either side of your head, fencing you between his forearms. Your lips part, wide-eyed and confused, and you gulp around the nervous lump threatening your voice.

“Do you have any idea,” he seethes, “what you do to me?”

“W-What-” Your stammering is cut short as he slots his thigh between your legs and you have to tilt your chin to meet his visor, a gasp finding itself on your tongue.

“Strutting around my ship, putting your hands on me, that kriffing smile…” Din ruts his knee into your heat, and you’re practically hoisted onto your toes. Your core pulses against the blunt pressure, blood racing to the throb at your center.

Maker, you could fucking faint.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this—about you?” His voice is tar black—smooth like obsidian—and you succumb to it. You can’t speak; any and all language evaporating from the forefront of your mind, because he’s everywhere. He’s inescapable and smothering and his scent floods over you, intoxicatingly wild—like iron and sand and something dangerous. Something heady, carnal.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses.

You’ve gone dumb. You’ve imagined this, you’ve dreamt of this, but now it’s actually happening—here, in the flesh, it’s finally happening and you’re trembling with the reality of it. All you can muster is a shaky nod, tongue darting out over your lip.

“Tell me,” he orders, scanning your face behind the guise of his helm. You feel his gaze rove over your eyes, your cheek—fanning across your lips.

Your breath hitches.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes I want this.“

It’s all it takes.

Din is rougher than he means to be. He wears this as he wears his armor, plating the soft parts of himself he doesn’t want anyone touching. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else but this.

He grabs a handful of your waist, rooting you still as he rolls his thigh against you. You inhale an airy noise, grappling onto his other arm stationed by your head and you bite your lip, sucking it into your mouth. Your cunt spasms for him as he presses up into your mound, fightless against the groan that seeps through you.

“You like that?” he pants. ”You like fucking my thigh?”

Din manhandles your hips, his hold on you vicious as he rocks you back and forth on his plated leg, your clit catching on the cold edge of his thigh guard with each motion. It sends hot sparks down your spine and you trap a moan behind your teeth, letting the sound rumble there before you swallow it. His hand weaves up from your waist, the drag of his glove setting fire to your skin as he passes over the swell of your clothed breast, and you arch into his palm as he swipes a thumb over a nipple. “You want more?”

He splays his large hand, groping at your plump flesh, and pinches your nipple hard until it pebbles through your shirt. With each sharp twist, his intention becomes clearer: it won’t be enough to skate by on moans alone.

“I asked you a question.”

Din slides his other hand to the small of your back, drawing you flush to his front, and you can feel him— the outline of his firm length twitching under his flight suit against your hip. He cranes over you, intimidating and menacing and achingly devious. The panel of his visor has never looked darker.

“Use your words, dala,” he husks.

You should be embarrassed by this—by your need made evident through the soaked lining of your underwear—but you aren’t. The heat that stipples your cheeks isn’t born from shame, it’s sprung from lust—pure and primal—and you can’t afford to give it any further consideration because all there is is this man wrenching sounds from you like an animal— and he’s scarcely even touched you yet.

“Your fingers,” you whimper, “I want your hands."

He learned this lesson within those first weeks—relearns it every fucking day. You could ask him for anything - everything - and he would oblige.

He can’t say no to you.

He shifts out from between you, hooking into the elastic of your panties and tears them down your thighs to rest just above your knees, the spread of your legs keeping them from dropping to your ankles.

Patiently - tortuously - he scrapes up your legs, leaving embers in his wake as he trails higher  higher  higher to where you need him most. You’re shivering—nerve endings fried and frayed—and every atom inside you hums with anticipation, with unbridled impulse.

The orange tips of his gloves dimple your inner thighs - squeezing, massaging - before he tilts his helmet, angling himself to see you better, and paws your swollen lips apart.

Your pussy is drooling for him.

He moans something indecipherable— a curse in Mando’a—at the sight of you glistening for him under the dimmed lights like this, and immediately you buck your pelvis to him, hungry for his touch—and the pathetic noises babbling out of you prove too much for him to bear.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, ripping a glove off and tossing it aside, “I need to feel you.”

Your eyes have dilated with want, blackened as you watch Din retrace his bare hand—that gorgeous thing you’ve never seen, only ever fantasized about—back to your heat and slowly - so fucking slowly - pass a finger through your slit.

You throw your head back, knocking against the durasteel. The mewl that escapes you is inhuman.

He’s so warm. His tan skin is molten—it’s like he brought the sun in with him, as if he’s burning that star straight into your sex. You’re slippery with arousal; you can feel how glossed you are, you don’t have to look. You can hear it—hear the obscene squelches he’s stroking from your seam.

“Maker, you’re - shit - you’re wet,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way you pitch your hips—seeking his warmth, his friction. He’s been toying with you, drawing patterns along your pussy and playing with your puffy folds, but he hasn’t even come close to your clit. You know it’s no accident. Din is methodical in all things, he doesn’t make mistakes. This is a decision—it’s intentional. You think, perhaps, he’s looking to break you—some sort of retribution for these months you’ve spent swimming in circles around each other—and you think, perhaps, you’d let him.

That you’d like it.

When Din grants you mercy, finally gliding his index along your neglected bundle of nerves, reflexively you fist into his cowl, knuckles going pale.

“Stars-” you exclaim—just like that.

He handles your body like he does one of his pistols - practiced, unparalleled - encircling your clit with precision, his finger on your trigger—blinding, perfect agony swiveled into your sweet cleft.

When he pushes himself inside you, all the oxygen gets punched out of your lungs.

“Fuck, and so tight,” Din growls, bending at the knuckle to curl over that spongy spot of your walls that makes you gape, makes your brain go slack. Your arms scamper around his pauldrons, nails scraping sharp over beskar. The heel of his hand presses into your clit and you grind against him, each roll of your hips pleading a filthy please please please as you chase after the orgasm he’s baiting you with.

He responds to that, bourboned praise dripping smug from his smirk. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate—gonna cum for me already?”

You don’t have the wherewithal to formulate a response. He’s fit another finger into you, fucking up into you hard—fucking you exactly how you need him to. It feels like you are about to shatter right there on your feet. It’s almost unbearable, this mounting tension that’s climbing within you. You’ve been so starved for this, so deprived of a kind touch and a good fuck, and within no time at all he’s coaxing you to the ledge of your release.

“Mando,” you sob, entwining your fingers into his cape, grinding grinding grinding into his palm when suddenly, without warning, his ministrations cease—that burning coil abating to a simmer. You let out a rasped pant, collapsing forward onto his shoulder— your climax ripped away from you at the last, pivotal second.

Your eyes are screwed shut, you don’t see the movement—you can only feel it once it’s already there: the bounty hunter’s glove grating over your neck. You sputter out a gasp as he forces your jaw up to align with the chill of his visor, trapped in the unrelenting strength of his grasp. Your eyes clamber around the chrome boxing you in, gulping back the fear coalescing in your mouth.

“You say my name,” he gravels. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt spasms around the fingers still seated within you—aching for movement, aching to cum—and your lower lip quivers as he leers. “I gave it to you—say it,” he commands.

For a fleeting moment, in the remaining rational corner of your brain, it occurs to you that you’re terrified—that there may be no going back once you speak it. There’s no unmaking this choice. Like a door—a door that swings both ways—once it is cracked ajar, it cannot be closed again. Because you know yourself, you loathe to admit it, but you know his name will crumble you; that you will bend—that you will want to give and give and give to him— and still, despite, you lay onto the handle and fling that door wide open.

“Din.”

“Fuck,” he seethes. His reaction is visceral—the whole of him stiffens, leathered pads of his fingertips searing into your throat. “Again.”

“Din,” you whine as he rocks his fingers into your walls.

He moans, wanton and guttural, at the way his name tumbles from you like velvet. “Good girl—fuck, that’s good.”

He vanishes from your neck, bringing his hand down to cup his cock bulging painfully against the fabric there and your gaze snaps to it, saliva pooling in the well of your mouth. You slither your hand down his breast plate, over the paneling of his flight suit, trailing south until it lands on the hide of his glove. You stop, waiting there - breathless - until he nods curtly.

His hand falls away. You mold your palm to his length.

“Din,” you give freely, high-pitched and girly, and his cock brays under your hand. Fuck, he’s big—you can feel his mass through his pants and your pussy flutters around his fingers moving deliciously lazy inside you. Your eyes latch onto his, the brown of them hidden somewhere under the helm, and you can feel his own bore into you, weighing leaden there—

before you both simultaneously rupture.

Din’s fingers slip out of you to fiddle with the hem of his pants, unbuttoning in a clumsy flourish until he springs free with a groan of relief.

Maker.

He’s fucking divine—long and veined, with a patch of dark curls padding around the base of him. Din weeps for you already, frustrated and pent up from the confines of his restraints, beads of arousal dappling his head. He hisses as you swipe a digit over his cock, smearing his precum down the silken slope of him. You’re transfixed—the both of you staring as you wrap your hand around his shaft and he shudders, keening in to your touch.

“Mm, fuck you’re soft- kriff-”

Din dwarfs you—you barely fit around his girth—and he can’t help but buck into your palm as you begin to move in tandem. Din flicks at your clit, mirroring your pace as you get each other off. It’s awkward and lewd and perfect—both of you, a tapestry of woven limbs and sweat and you pump him harder and harder, choking his cock with your fist. You fuck him raw, the dry drag of your satin hand ripping curses from his mouth.

“Fuck, dala,” he pants, “I-I’m not—” I’m not gonna last. His words are snuffed out as you circle your wrist and brush a thumb over his leaking tip, forcing him to shiver. He doesn’t have to finish his thought, you understand plenty well. You’re dancing along that same precipice, flirting with the fall.

“Stars, yes,” you plead. Fuck, you want him to cum— you need him to. You need to make him feel good, to let him know that you’re here - you’re right here - and that he means more to you than you care to admit; that you want him—have since you first laid eyes on him, since he rescued you, since he took you back to the Crest and gave you the last of his bacta to heal all your splintered bits. That he deserves this—with all that he’s done for you, all that he���s doing for you—

with all that he his.

“Din—please.” Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for—more of him, all of him—and a groan tears through his modulator at the sound of you begging his name—like he’s wounded, like it pains him to hear you say it.

It’s a race now—the two of you hurdling headlong towards this terrible, messy collision. You’re both sloppy—wet sounds and slaps of skin—as you stumble closer to the brink of release. He’s been rendered incoherent, chiseled down to the basest of grunts and broken words you don’t recognize. His thumb finds a devastating pressure on your swollen nub and your legs begin to vibrate, nearly unable to stand on your own two feet with how fucking perfectly he’s working your pussy.

This thing inside you feels giant - monstrous - and that slow wave that’s been building and building and cresting is here, upon you. You’re trapped in the barrel of it, and it’s going to crash at any moment and sweep you out to sea. Drown you—happily, gladly. “I’m - oh fuck—"

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, tightening his circles on your clit. “Cum for me, cum on my hand-”

A crack of lightening streaks up your middle, the whole of you shaking as your orgasm rushes through, a sputtering cry let loose into the ship. You feel yourself gush, dripping past his thickness stuffing you full, dripping down your inner thighs. Din pulls out from you and you whimper at the loss—his absence leaving you gaping, leaving you bereft. You’re siphoning down air, dizzy from your release, when he raises his hand, glistening with your fluids, and traces your bottom lip—asking for entrance.

Fuck.

You part for him, eager and pliant, and he snakes two fingers inside—tasting your own tang and the leather residue left there, stamped into the whirls of his fingerprints. Your tongue swirls around them, laving him clean, and you drag over the ridges of his shaft— still hard and throbbing and waiting in your grasp. He bobs his fingers in your mouth, matching you thrust for thrust, and you let out a depraved little moan, humming around him, and all Din can do is watch.

Watch as he disappears between your lips—his skin pulling and catching on your plush flesh— watch as you suck on them, watch as he practically fucks your throat. And Maker, you take him so fucking well, letting him do what he pleases with your all too supple body.

He can’t even begin to imagine what his cock would look like—what it would feel like nestled in the hot cavern of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him like hard candy. Din doesn’t let himself—can’t. If he did, fuck, that’d be it. He’d be done for. He knows he’d cum in a flash and he wants to make this last—to hold on to this - onto you - for as long as he can, allow himself this singular concession. The only time, he convinces himself, the last time.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

You quicken your rhythm and Din bucks wildly into your palm, his seizing and twitching alerting you to how close he is. He slides from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing along after as he clasps onto the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m—” Din knots into your hair, gripping you rough, panting frantic. “Fuck. Fuck, dala— cyare-”

With a hoarse shout, he slams his gloved fist into the durasteel and spills over himself in hot, thick pumps, spurts shooting out to splatter on your tunic, on his flight suit, on your knuckles. You ease him through it, his cum glazing down his cock before you slow to a languid stroke, his seed sticky under your palm. You’re panting, the both of you, spent noises reverberating ugly and loud against the metal sidings.

Din sinks his helmet to your forehead while you catch your breath, his cold beskar kissing your flushed skin—the density of it comforting, grounding. Your eyes teeter shut and you let yourself lean into him, a dazed grin tugging at your wet lips. This is— nice; so much gentler than the pace he drove not minutes before. Head to head, his hand buried in your hair, your arm slung over his hulking shoulders; your fingers thread into the askew fabric behind his neck to discover a sliver of skin treasured away underneath. You trace there - lightly, whispered - earning a fizzle of static sent whirring through his vocoder.

“Fuck,” Din mumbles, before unweaving himself and separating from you. Your legs have gone useless and rubbery—you almost face plant forward without him there— and by the time you blink open, he’s already tucked himself into his pants and picked up his glove, slotting it over those skilled fingers that had just filled you to the brim. He turns back round to find you staring at him through the haze of your afterglow, eyes glassy and fucked out; your fluids dribbling down towards your underwear still bunched above your knees, hair tangled with sweat and saliva and cum—his and yours.

You look wrecked—disheveled. You’re so fucking pretty it makes Din want to scream.

He picks up a stray rag from a crate and offers it to you, before silently sliding your panties back up to your hips in one dexterous swipe. He lingers there but for a moment, savoring the touch of you—grazing a digit into the crease of your hip. You’re rendered mute— your brain can hardly string a sentence together— but finally you manage, your voice weak when you find it again.

“Thank you,” you croak, wiping away the traces of him off your knuckles, and you smile coquettish, delirious. “That was… that was, uhm—I really enjoyed that.”

A quiet beat slogs by.

And then, everything  shifts.

Din’s hand descends from your waist, holstering it to his side, and he moves away. He moves away from you.

You can feel it immediately—like a gust of chilled wind, the change in the air nips at you. Din’s armor is anything but warm—his presence, his aura, anything but inviting—but now, he seems farther from you than ever before, his visor tempered and steely.

You know him. You know this man. You’ve travelled with him, you’ve mended his ills, you’ve taken care of his son, you’ve spoken his name, you’ve laid prints on his skin and deeper still—

And here, before you, Din is white noise. Indiscernible. Unreadable.

Nervously, you twiddle with the frayed edge of the stained cloth, worrying your cheek. You swear, just for a second, that you see him inch towards you— you think you sense him, some part of him, breaching the chasm that’s formed between you. But it’s only a trick of the lowlight—a trick of your cruel heart, winged and errant beneath your ribs, misconstruing your thoughts to fancy.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to you like you want. He doesn’t touch you again, he doesn’t hold you like you need.

It feels like you’re withering—your legs too bare, your tunic too short, hair too mussed, eyes too bleary—everything feels wrong now, misplaced. “Din,” you start, you try—you try to keep attached to this tether, to this thin strand you’ve sewn between your bodies, but he shrinks back. He severs it. He is as you first met him. Rigid. Distant. A Mandalorian bounty hunter— the best in the parsec. He is as he was months ago, when you were strangers.

When you were nothing.

“I—” He silences himself, teeth clenching shut around the unspoken sentiment you so long to hear, and instead takes another step backwards. Farther away. Farther from you.

He stands straighter, impossibly taller, and you feel

small.

“Goodnight,” Din gives, his voice shrouded and cloaked by his modulator. He pivots on his heel, retreating into the depths of the Crest and leaves you there, the ghost of his hands on your neck, on your breasts, in your heat— still tingling from where they haunt you. Exhausted, you thud back into the bulkhead, unfocused and unseeing.

“Goodnight Din,” you murmur, but it falls upon deaf ears. He’s gone, and the empty hull swallows your words—burying them.

taggies:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @djarinsbeskar @sammysdaisy @whataperfectwasteoftime @mandobloggin @silver-streaked-wings

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #king of cups #mandalorian smut

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

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

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

#batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily fanfic #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #night culture au #timothy drake #tim drake imagines #tim drake imagine #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc au #batfamily au

[squiggledrop]

No Strings - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 2: Frayed Ends

Part 3: Tying the Knot

Summary: Spencer and Reader have a friends with benefits arrangement. The only problem is, they both have feelings for each other. When Spencer admits his feelings, Reader doesn’t know if she can let herself give in to hers.- Song fic to Sex by Eden

Word Count: 4.1k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Sex (oral and penetration)

Three months ago you and Spencer made a deal. Both of you were in desperate need of some sexual release, so it only made sense to help each other out. However, before engaging in your sexual relationship, you made sure to set some ground rules. The most important one being: no strings attached. 

For the past three months, everything had been great. You were more relaxed at work, and it was nice being able to find a sexual partner in a friend because it eliminated the awkwardness of finding a one night stand. Spencer was sleeping better, the horrors of his workdays didn’t seem as bad knowing he had someone to go to each night to let out all his frustration at the world. It was nice having someone, even if it was strictly physical. 

The team had just gotten back from a case, and, like always, you drove Spencer and yourself to his apartment to let off some steam. When you stepped inside, Spencer pushed you up against the door causing it to slam shut. His plump lips attached to yours as his hands ran up your back. You shuddered under his touch and moaned into the kiss, giving him more access which he gladly accepted. He used one hand to grab your cheek and the other to trace the curves of your body. You ran your fingers through his hair as you pressed yourself further into him. He moaned at the added friction to his crotch and began massaging your hip, only intensifying the heat that swelled at your core. 

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his torso. You smiled into the kiss as he squeezed your butt, eliciting an endearing smirk from you. Spencer couldn’t help but match your smile as he looked into your glowing eyes. He began to trail kisses down your neck, causing you to moan, as he carried you into the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and crawled on after you. He hovered over you, never letting his mouth leave your neck. Your moans grew louder as he began to suck, being sure to cover you with his marks. You ran your nails over his clothed back and began to squirm underneath him, desperate for some relief. He looked down at you and chuckled at how desperate you were. When he looked into your eyes, he couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful you looked underneath him. 

“Spencer, please”, you whined, looking up at him with innocent eyes that you knew would always make him cave. You saw the desire and lust that fueled his eyes, and you could feel the wetness that pooled in your panties. He leaned back down and trailed slow, wet kisses along your jaw as his hands slipped under the fabric of your shirt, pulling it off of you. Spencer wasted no time in exploring your newly exposed skin and trailed his kisses down your chest, making sure to reinforce the faded marks that littered your skin from the last time you were together. Your moans grew louder as his mouth traveled lower. When he reached the waistband of your pants, he hastily slid them off of you, taking your panties with them. You shuddered at the sudden cold air hitting your burning skin, and shoved your hands around Spencer’s head, desperate for the warmth of his mouth to consume your throbbing pussy. 

Spencer kissed your clit, causing your legs to tighten around his head, only for him to push your knees apart. He grunted and looked up at you, a fierce possessiveness radiating through his glare. Spencer loved seeing you like this, so vulnerable and desperate for him, and he wanted to make sure he could see all of it. He placed his hands on the soft skin of your inner thighs, making sure you stayed on display for him, as he brought his face back to where you needed him most. He licked up and down your folds and tightened his grip on your thighs as he felt you shaking from his touch. He lapped up the arousal that was pouring out of you, and then brought his tongue up to your clit and began circling around the nub. You were a moaning mess, jerking your hips to meet his face as you tugged the curls on his head. Spencer took your clit into his mouth, the feeling causing you to arch your back off the bed in pleasure. He could feel his pants getting tighter, you moaning his name and your slickness covering his face only increased his own arousal. Encouraged by your desperate gasps and whimpers, he inserted two fingers through your folds, smirking against your core as he felt your walls clench around them. He increased his thrusts while continuing to sweep his tongue around your pulsing bud. With him no longer holding your legs open, you squeezed his head between your thighs while drowning in pleasure he was giving you. His thrusts were hitting right where you needed, and you screamed his name, letting him know how good he felt inside you. He moaned into your core, intoxicated by the feeling of your legs suffocating him while your walls swallowed his fingers. The vibrations from his throat were what pushed you over the edge. You screamed his name over and over as you trembled. Spencer was only encouraged by this, making sure to lick all of the juices that flowed out of you. 

When you finally came down, your mouth was hung open as you tried to catch your breath. You looked down to see Spencer’s fingers shining, covered in your release. He put his fingers in his mouth as he made his way up to you, making sure to suck off every last drop. You moaned at the sight and reached out for him, running your hands over his shoulders. Spencer crashed his lips against yours, moaning into your mouth. You could taste yourself on him and quickly felt your arousal growing again. Not daring to break the heated kiss, you began to unbutton Spencer’s shirt. You ran your hands over his toned chest as he shrugged off the shirt and threw it to the side. Your hands glided down his chest until you reached his groin. You cupped his bulge and began pumping him through his pants. His mouth hung open as he buried his head into your neck, whimpering at how good you were making him feel. He reached down and quickly unbuckled his pants, you helping him slide them off. His achingly hard member sprung up to his stomach, and you wrapped your hand around him, running your thumb over the tip of his member.

“Want you to ride me”, he said through a shaky breath. Spencer knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept your hand on him, and he desperately wanted to be inside of you when he came. You happily obliged, nodding as you let him lay down before straddling his hips. His arms reached around your back, unclasping your bra. Your breasts spilled out for him, and he tweaked your nipples between his fingers. You threw your head back in pleasure and lifted your hips so that your entrance teased his tip. His hands left their grip on your breasts and traced their way down to your waist. He began rubbing circles with his thumbs on your hips, and you abruptly sank your down, taking all of him in. You both moaned at the sensation before you quickly lifted your hips, only to come down even harder. Spencer’s grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you down and thrust up into you at the same time. Your breasts bounced along with your hips, and Spencer swore he could come at the sight. He felt his orgasm rapidly building, and flipped the two of you over so that he was now pounding into you. He quickened his pace, slamming into you so hard that you screamed in pleasure. Spencer was lost in the feeling of you around him, and his mind went foggy. Between the harmony of both of your moans and screams, he let slip the three words he knew he wasn’t supposed to say.

“I love you”, he moaned, into your shoulder. Your eyes shot open and you could hear Spencer gasp at the realization of what he said. The moment he let it slip he instantly regretted it. Despite having felt this way about you for so long, he knew it wasn’t what you wanted. Panic bubbled within him, terrified of you just shoving him off of you then and there. 

You didn’t know what to do, but you were so close to your orgasm that you decided to just pretend you didn’t hear it. You scratched his back with your nails digging into his skin. 

“Faster”, you gasped into his ear. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him in even deeper. He pounded into the spot that made you scream, and you were drowned in a wave of pleasure. Spencer felt you flutter around him, your warm juices dripping down his length, and that was enough to send him over the edge. He continued to thrust into you, letting you both ride out your orgasms. 

When he pulled out of you, he quickly got up, terrified of how you would react to his confession, and went into the bathroom. When he left, you looked up at the ceiling in shock. The silent room never felt so loud. How dare he, you thought, he promised. He promised he wouldn’t let feelings get in the way. What you had right now was so good. You got to hang out with your best friend while having mind-blowing sex. Why did he have to complicate things? Of course, you loved him, but that wasn’t the point. You wouldn’t let yourself get hurt again, you couldn’t. 

Spencer stared at himself in the mirror, trying to gain the courage to look you in the face. What was he going to do? He knew he loved you, he’s known for so long. He took in a deep breath and braced himself before going back into the bedroom. When he walked in, he cautiously went back towards his side of the bed. You didn’t acknowledge his presence, the only indication you were alive being the sound of your breathing. He climbed back into the bed and laid on his back, matching your position of staring at the ceiling, not quite sure what to do next.

And I said, "what's up?

What you been thinking?"

'Cause you've been staring at that roof so long I'd swear it's come alive

Heavy breaths filled the room as you and Spencer still tried to catch your breath. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked over at you and noticed you were still staring blankly at the ceiling. The moonlight peeked in through the blinds, the silver light dusting your naked form. He looked you up and down, admiring the shadows that the curves of your body formed. The peaks of your breasts rose with each breath you took in. Spencer knew he messed up, but, he also felt relieved after finally getting to say what he had been keeping bottled up for so long. He bit his top lip, paranoid about what you were thinking.

“Are you okay?”, he asked. You took in a sharp breath, not really sure how to answer him. You kept your eyes glued to the ceiling, not daring to look at him. Obviously, you knew the answer to his question: No, Spencer. I’m not okay. Because you just told me you love me and I love you too, but I can’t. So, thanks for ruining this.

“I’m fine”, you deadpanned, willing the tears that pooled in your eyes to go away. You wanted to give in so bad. To turn your head and look at him. You just wanted to see the warm eyes that always made you feel safe. You wanted him to hold you in his arms and protect you from the rest of the world. You wanted so badly to just stay in this bed with him for eternity. But, that’s not how things work. 

Despite your attempts to maintain a stoic composure, Spencer could see right through it. He always could. He could see the millions of thoughts swarming your brain and how hard you were fighting them off.

“(Y/n), you’re not. What’s wrong?”, he cautiously asked. When you still didn’t look at him, he went to touch your cheek, but you quickly turned away. You rolled over so he was facing your back, and he let out a breath in defeat. He knew this was his fault and that he broke the one rule the two of you had: no feelings. 

From the start, you were adamant about your relationship being strictly physical. Spencer didn’t know the full story, but he knew you were hurt badly in past relationships and were hesitant to engage in another. You and Spencer had been friends for a few months after you had started at the BAU. You knew how complicated work relationships could get, but that didn’t stop the obvious sexual tension that formed between the two of you. Given your line of work, maintaining a prolific sex life was difficult, so, when you and Spencer hooked up one late night in your shared hotel room, it just felt right. It was convenient. At least that’s what you told yourself. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing Spencer because you let feelings get in the way as you had with so many others. Spencer was your colleague and friend, so after that first night, you had made sure to set some rules so neither of you would get unrealistic expectations. You both had promised to keep feelings out of, whatever you were, and just use each other for physical relief. The only problem was, both of you had quickly broken that rule. Spencer, however, was the idiot that had to say it out loud for the whole world to know.

And she spoke nine words

And now we're sinking

But I can't find it in myself to want to lie to keep this thing from going down

'Cause that girl took my heart

And I ain't want it back

“This is the last time we’re ever doing this”, you stated calmly, despite your mind yelling at you to just turn around and kiss him. You closed your eyes as you tried to steady your wavering breath. You couldn’t let him know how much it pained you to force those words out of your mouth. You couldn’t let him know that however much you were hurting him, it was hurting you even more. 

Spencer, however, felt like you might as well have just stabbed him in the heart and then twisted the knife around for good measure. He wanted to tell you that he knew you loved him too. Because he did, and there was no way you couldn’t not be feeling the same thing he was. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him could only be explained by love. The way you leaned into his touch could only be explained by love. The way you moaned his name when you were together could only be explained by love. The way that the two of you could only get a good night’s sleep was when it was spent in each other’s arms could only be explained by love. At least that’s what he had to tell himself to not go insane at the words you just uttered.

And I should've kept my silence

But I guess I'm too attached to my own pride to let you know

That all these words meant nothing

And I've always been this heartless

And we were just having sex no I would never call it love

Despite how he yearned to pull you into his chest and never let you go while telling you all the ways in which he loves you, he was still a genius and a profiler, and he knew it would be pointless. His jaw clenched as he bit his tongue. He opened his mouth, trying to string together any combination of words that would get you to stay. He didn’t want to lose you and he would do anything to take back what he said.

“Look, I-I didn’t mean it. I just got caught up in the moment, it was stupid.” Spencer desperately tried to speak through his clenched throat and watery eyes. Your heart sank at his words. The thought of him not feeling the growing love between the two of you was too much. You knew it was selfish and that he didn’t deserve to be treated like this, but you loved him, and you didn’t want to do more damage than what has already been done. But, if he really did mean it, you didn’t think you could handle having to look at him knowing that he didn’t feel the same desire you did. No matter what either of you says, you know you won’t be able to pretend anymore. You wouldn’t be able to kiss him without wanting to say it back. You wouldn’t be able to hold him without never wanting to let go. You wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye without picturing a future together. 

But love

Oh no, I think I'm catching feelings

And I don't know if this is empathy I feel

Just hold on

Remember why you said this was the last time?

You couldn’t believe how far you let this go and how deep you let yourself fall for him. It wasn’t fair to either of you, and you knew that. But, your love for him was also the reason you couldn’t give in. You couldn’t subject him to your pain. If you two were to succumb to your feelings and then break up, you knew the pain would be infinitely worse. So, you decided to maintain your façade of indifference. He broke the rule, and that has consequences.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t do this anymore.” You felt the tears burning your face as they fell from your eyes. You quickly brushed them away, but the salty taste lingered in your mouth. Spencer panicked, the fear of losing you becoming more of a reality with each moment that passed. 

“(Y/n)… Please, it’s just sex. Nothing has to change”, he begged. He knew it was a lost cause but he had to try. He would do anything for you. 

So I guess it's...

Let die to let live

And what's good

When both choices I've got have us staring down the barrel to the bullets I can't stop?

Spencer’s mind was racing as he waited for you to say something, to do anything, to react at all. He didn’t care if you hurt him. He would rather live with this constant pain in his chest, your hand suffocating his heart every day if it meant he could still be with you. He couldn’t lose you. He could survive you not reciprocating his feelings and having to face that truth every day. He could survive the constant reminder that you didn’t love him and never would. What he couldn’t survive was not having you there next to him every step of the way. 

What he didn’t know, however, was that you could. You could live with the pain of never being with him like this again. What you couldn’t survive was living with the pain while he was on the other side of the bed. You couldn’t survive him being so close, it being so easy to just reach out when you knew you couldn’t. You stared down at the floor, trying to build up the courage to make the hardest decision of your life. You knew you had to let him go. You had to give him a chance to be free of you and to be happy. You loved him so much. You loved him enough to know he deserved more. He deserved better. He deserved someone who could say it back. Someone who could reciprocate his feelings with passion. Someone who wasn’t afraid of hurting him. Someone who wasn’t you.

And so I stand off

Like indecision's Kevlar

'Til this fear of feeling stops and I'm done

You turned over and sat up on the bed. Spencer let out an inaudible gasp when he finally saw your face. He quickly closed his mouth, not wanting to allude to the tears that were on the brink of flowing from his eyes. You took in a shaky breath, bringing yourself to look into his eyes. 

“No Spencer, it does have to change. You changed everything.” 

That was the moment. Spencer saw the streaks that stained your cheeks from your tears. He saw how hard you were biting your lip, surprised you weren’t drawing blood. He looked into your eyes and he saw the love that you kept captive in them. That was the moment he knew you loved him too. But, that was also the moment he saw how much the love you shared was destroying you. He saw how much pain his love was causing you.

“But, I”, he sighed, pleading, shouting at you to stay with his eyes, “I don’t know how to forget you, (Y/n)”, he choked out. You opened your mouth to say something but quickly closed it. You looked at him for a moment longer. 

“Well try.” You turned and walked out of the room, willing your trembling legs to support you until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

Spencer wanted to follow you. He wanted to grab your shoulders and tell you that it was okay to give in to the feelings you were so afraid of. But instead, he stayed there in the empty bed and looked at the scrunched up sheets that once caressed your body.

You opened the door to his apartment and stepped out just before you collapsed on the ground in the hallway. You choked on your sobs, trying not to disturb anyone and give away your pathetic breakdown. 

Spencer finally broke down. All of your memories together replayed in his head. He tried to figure out how everything went so wrong so fast. He wished he never said those three words. He wished you were still next to him. He let his gasps consume the room as he cursed himself for letting you walk away.

You leaned your head back against his closed door and pleaded that he would come after you. You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help it. You had given him every reason to hate you, and you knew that. He had no reason to ever want to see you again. You scolded yourself because this is what you wanted. You caused this, yet, you couldn’t quell the voice in your head that yearned for him to open the door. You wanted him to grab you off the dusty wood floor and pull you into his chest. 

Spencer tried to calm himself down. He tried to convince himself that he could get through this, that he could move on. He tried to imagine a future that didn’t include waking up next to you every morning. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. Despite his vast knowledge of the theory of the multiverse, he could not fathom a single reality in which his future didn’t include you. He jumped off the bed and rushed towards the door, praying you hadn’t left yet.

You waited, arguing with yourself that he was coming, that he wouldn’t give up on you. But, when your violent sobs became a weak whimper and you were still alone, you realized he wasn’t coming. You got off the ground, trying to maintain your balance through your blurry vision, and left.

Spencer placed his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob and flung the door open. He frantically whipped his head around, searching for you in the hallway. When he didn’t see you, he quickly ran down the stairs towards the parking lot. But, when he got there, your car was gone along with you. He collapsed to his knees, the cold night air pricking his flush skin. He sighed in disbelief as tears began to fall down his face once again. You really left, he thought to himself, you didn’t love him and you had left.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #reid x you #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid reader insert

[softmothprince]

Text Me Later

MC overhears something after class and is curious to see what would happen if she did it to Mammon.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

MC bites her lip, tapping her nails against her D.D.D., rethinking what she just did. The only reason she did this was because she heard some demons in her class whispering about doing it to their s/o, and when she asked more about it they gave her tips and tricks. Dirty talking wasn’t something she did, it was usually Mammon doing it to her.

But the demons in that group hyped her up, especially when she mentioned that Mammon would be tied up with Lucifer and working on Student Council things. She re-reads the texts again, her nerves rising the more she scrolls.

~Goldielocks~

‘I’m conflicted right now.’

‘Ha? About what? You better not be thinking of doing something without me!’

‘I want you to hold me in your arms and tease my neck with kisses. Make those pretty marks you love so much.’

‘W-what? You can’t just say something like that!’

‘But I also want you to force me up against a wall and fuck me until I’m shaking. Until I can’t even remember my own name.’

‘....you don’t understand what you’re starting, princess.’

‘Don’t I? I know that you’re probably sitting in Lucifer’s office, slacking off to look at these messages I’m sending and imagining that you were here right now.’

‘That’s it.’

‘Mammon?’

message seen

~

That was almost twenty minutes ago. With a loud huff, MC lets her phone fall onto her stomach and stares at her ceiling. She stretches her legs, wincing when she feels the warmth in her belly grow. Writing those texts and imaging Mammon being all flustered did that to her- A loud knock makes her sit up and she looks at the clock on her phone.

She was supposed to be home alone, since the brothers all had things to do. MC cautiously approaches her door and waits for a second, reaching out with her pacts and is surprised to feel the one on her chest- Mammon’s -pulse eagerly. Opening the door, she finds the second born standing outside her room, his head tilted down.

His white hair is a ruffled mess, clothes looking to be hastily tugged at and chaotic. All-in-all, he looks like a mess. Without waiting, he walks past her and keeps his back to her.

“Mammon?” She whispers, brows furrowed when he doesn’t say anything and closes her door. “Hey, are you-”

She yells in shock when right as the lock clicks in place, he suddenly rushes her, his hand going to her throat and he shoves her against the door. Finally being able to see his face, she stops. Mammon’s eyes are dark and his pupils dilated, an almost feral expression tugging at his features.

“This is what you get for sending such lewd messages, sweetheart~”

She stutters and tries to move, only to be yanked around and thrown onto her bed. The hand gripping her neck tightens and digs into her skin, his thumb moving to stroke the pact mark between her breasts.

“Mammon-”

“You knew exactly what would happen. I warned you- but you still did it.” He suddenly pushes her legs apart, his free hand going to cup her clothed pussy. “But you missed me too much to stop, right? I can smell it- your little slit is wet from writing those messages.”

MC lifts her hips up, trying to push more against his hand- only for him to let her neck go and force her hips down as he slips his other hand into her shorts. It takes little to no resistance for his fingers to slide into her pussy, his long fingers easily reaching those sweet spots she can’t.

He hums and leans forward as he moves his arm in time with his thumb as it rubs her clit, pressing his teeth to her throat. He nibbles and sucks on the skin, growling when she jolts and moans into his ear. One of her legs is between his and when she moves it, it grinds against his cock.

She whimpers his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair and clawing at his t-shirt. Red scratches appear on his skin, slowly disappearing as time went on. He tilts his head up and snags her ear between his teeth, tugging briefly before whispering lewd words.

“You’re going to cum on my fingers before I give you my cock, you got that human? I’m going to tease you just like you wanted before I fuck you so hard you’re fucking shaking.”

Her mouth drops open with a small line of drool going down her chin, chest heaving harder and harder until- The noise she lets out is similar to a sob, legs spasming as she cums hard and fast. She vaguely hears Mammon murmuring praises in her ear, ‘good girl’ ‘my human’ and ‘naughty thing’ mixing in her mind.

He slips his soaked hand from her shorts and grabs both of her thighs to hold them in place as he sits up on his knees, lining their hips up. Loud grunts fill her ears as he grinds against her core, making her feel his cock through his jeans. The flimsy material of her shorts barely hides her excitement, darkening as he pushes it against her wet slit.

She whines and squirms, trying to get away as the wet fabric rubs her sensitive flesh. Mammon grins and lets one leg go to tear apart her bottoms, swiftly undoing his own belt and unzipping his jeans. He hums as he pulls out his cock, stroking it for a moment before letting it rub over his sweetheart’s clit.

He goes back to grinding their hips together, fisting her hair in one hand and grabbing under her knee with the other. She goes to cover her mouth and muffle her moans, but Mammon is quick to dip down and slam their lips together while shoving his tongue into her mouth.

Tangling their tongues together, he swallows her sounds greedily while rutting faster. His hips pull back enough so the head of his dick catches her entrance and he briefly lets her leg go to help ease his dick inside her wet cunt. His mouth parts from hers, a deep and guttural noise erupting from his chest as he sinks balls deep.

“Haa~ Your pussy is gripping my cock so nicely.” He laughs and tugs her head back, locking their eyes together. “I can tell by that look on your face that you’re going to cum if I move. You know I won’t stop once I start, don’t you babygirl…” He purrs, flicking his tongue along her lips and sliding it past them.

She mumbles out something that sounds like his name, but he doesn’t hesitate. He drives his hips back and forward, hearing that sweet sound of wet skin slapping together. And just as he said, his naughty girl squeals and gasps against his mouth as the familiar spasm of her pussy flutters around his cock- but he’s far from done.

He doesn’t stop as her orgasm does, continuing to slap their hips together hard. The lewd expression that corrupts her face makes him moan loudly, pressing their foreheads against each other and stares into her eyes. He can almost imagine the hearts in them, like those porn pictures he’s seen.

His hands slide down and grab under her bottom, lifting her up slightly so he can find that one spot that will- MC lets out a scream, babbling incoherently as she trembles and squeezes her thighs around his hips.

Mammon’s breathing becomes rough and tilting more towards a growl, his nails digging into her flesh as he thrusts a few more times before pulling out and cumming rapidly onto her heaving stomach. Both of them are shaking aggressively, chests heaving and faces blissed out.

Their eyes meet, and MC lets a loopy smile appear on her face, flushed face relaxing as the trembling lessens. Mammon takes a few deep breaths, rubbing his thumbs over her twitching thighs and once he is sure she is fine, he stands to snag a discarded towel tossed onto the couch.

He carefully cleans the cum off her stomach and thighs, taking extra precaution with her sensitive spots between her legs. Once that was done, he rolls the towel up in both of their dirty clothing and tosses them into a basket, then crawls into bed beside MC.

She eagerly curls into his arms, humming when he strokes up and down her spine. They whisper to each other about random things, until both fall into silence and then eventually into a deep sleep. Tangled in each other's arms.

#obey me #mammon #obey me mammon #om! mammon #lemon #writing #reader #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x you #female reader

[lustbile-archive]

Freak

MarkxReader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary/Warnings: Based off of Freak by Doja Cat

because Mark listens to doja cat and doja cat put freak on spotify and both of these things did a lot for me personally.

Smut, but also some angst and fluff.

Warning! Switch!Mark and Switch!Reader, jealousy, unhealthy relationship and reactions, reader is kind of dramatic ngl, and like a daddy kink for like 2 seconds. I really just wanted to write a smut based off the song but somewhere along the way it developed a plot. The song also uses ‘girl’ but as per usual this fic does not use gendered pronouns (also I would put a read more on this but I don’t have my laptop so I’m so sorry)

“Is it too tight?” you try not to laugh as you whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his skin making a shiver wrack his body and his hips cant upwards.

You bite back a whimper when the bulge pressing against the fabric of his jeans bumps into the seat of your underwear, a devious and satisfied grin pulling on his lips before he responds, “just tight enough baby.”

He tugs roughly at the cuffs that lock him to the head of your bed to prove his claim, the dull metal denting his skin. You had only asked to be nice, the irritation that swirled in your belly fed the evil little monster in your mind that screamed, ‘I don’t care about you Mark. I hope it hurts.’

Truly, you never would want to hurt Mark, unless it turned him on obviously, but unintentionally? Never. But where you sat straddling his lap and he laid shirtless and restrained below you, you can’t help but itch in anger and jealousy. A need to make him hurt as much as you wouldn’t admit out loud that he hurt you.

You had met Mark through mutual friends, and it wasn’t too far into the night that you realized you were hooked onto the grinning boy, an evil need to see what he could offer clawing at your skin. You ignored the concerned lingering looks your friends passed you when they noticed your interest, and you definitely ignored your best friend when she tried to discreetly mention that Mark may be a little too soft hearted for your shenanigans, too puppy like to keep up with what you liked to do. You were absolutely giddy as you watched the wide eyed pretty boy laugh and grin at the conversation amount at the group, and you were even giddier when his face flushed a deep red when your eyes met in response to your foot brushing his leg under the table.

Every time your eyes met that night, you’d offer a less than sweet smile. One time even adding a gentle wave of your fingers when you caught him staring. Excitement finally flooded your veins when you motioned to the exit of the small bar your friends had gathered at, and he gulped and nodded in response.

So no, you didn’t listen to your friend, and to hit the nail in the coffin, you drug Mark into the backseat of her car. She had very politely agreed to be the designated driver of the night, and you very nicely returned the favor by stuffing your mouth full of the nice boy she warned you to leave alone while you sat snuggly on his face. The evidence of your terrible listening skills left across both of your chins, and even some drops left on her upholstery.

No one seemed to notice your absence when you crawled back into your seats, or the way Mark wouldn’t stop licking his lips throughout the night. Every time his tongue peaked from between his lips making warmth tingle between your thighs.

Your friend figured it out. Of course she did, when she found your panties stuffed under her passenger seat and a few suspicious dried spots on the seats, and of course she gave you an ear full. ‘Mark is too sweet for this,’ and ‘you can’t play with him like this, he’ll start to feel something.’ Her words only passed over your head. You're an adult, and so is Mark, so it’s not like what you were doing was bad. The disappointment shaking of her head was the only response you got when you told her this, and all she got was a roll of your eyes.

So no, you didn’t leave Mark alone. Far from it actually. You found yourself magnified to his side whenever your friends gathered, childish grins shared between you two at the knowing of what would happen later that night, and you even wormed your way into his life outside of your friend gatherings. His boyish charms, and the warmth he offered brought you back to him every time, and not to mention the way he could use his tongue. Sometimes you two even revisited the back seat setting of your first meeting when your friend shot you one too many warning glares and you wanted to prove a point.

And maybe you shouldn’t have told him that you don’t date. ‘I don’t really do relationships,’ you whispered into the thick air of his room as you lay naked next to him, your head laying on his shoulder as his fingers brush your skin. You ignore the way his chest deflated at your words, assuming it was just his breath relaxing, and instead focus on his acknowledging hum and the quiet, ‘yeah, um.. me neither,’ he mutters. Those words being the last of the night before you fell unconscious, warm and naked in his sheets.

No maybe, you definitely should have never said that. Not when you could already feel the boy clawing out a nest in your heart and building a home. Not when you could feel your body light up whenever you found him amongst the crowd of your friends. Not when you found yourself enjoying the time spent tucked into his side just as much as you enjoyed the time that you were stuffed full of him. But you only realize this when you see him standing with her.

“I don’t see the problem,” you friend brushes off your grumbling question of ‘why is he with her’ with her hand swatting at the air, “it’s not like you were going to date him anyways. All you do is play games.”

You feel your face heat up at her words, anger and a tinge of embarrassment stinging your nerves, “but still,” you dumbly respond, no other words forming from your irritation.

“But still what?” she finally turns to lock her eyes on you, “I told you not to mess with him. Mark Lee is a boyfriend guy. He wants to be in a relationship so bad he can’t stand it.”

“That’s not what he told me,” you bite back, a petulant attitude filling every space inside of you.

“Of course it’s not, what like he’s gonna scare off the best lay of his life by admitting he’s a hopeless romantic?” her eyes go wild as she tries to reason with you, a task she’s not very unfamiliar with, “you might be a great fuck, but you’re also incredibly dense.”

You feel your chest cave at her words. The reality check squeezing your heart in sharp claws. The only small comfort you get is the small smile of pity she offers when you begin to resemble a kicked puppy.

“Just talk to him about it some other time, or if you really want to know what I think, just leave him alone and forget about it,” she puts down her now empty glass to free her hand to pet at your arm, her warmed palms making you melt slightly, “just don’t do anything stupid please.”

But of course you have to do something stupid, if you didn’t it just wouldn’t make sense. So you pull yourself away, a quiet, ‘I’m gonna get a drink,’ falling from you pouting lips as you turn away. An uninvited grin momentarily breaking your moodiness when she swats at your butt in encouragement.

And you do head towards the table covered in drinks, but unfortunately Mark and the mystery girl had moved themselves right into the path you had to take to get there. The smile he offers when your eyes meet feels like a punch to a chest, the small wave and a bubbly ‘hi’ chilling your skin.

If you were a real adult you’d smile, nod, and keep walking. Maybe trying to talk to him in the morning, or taking the advice you’d been handed and just end what you had with him before it got any worse, but you weren’t a real adult. A jealous child that had their favorite toy taken by a sweet girl that didn’t know it had your name scratched into it was hiding in the shell that was your body, and that child started to break your shell when instead your face twisted up in a grimace. You make sure not to let your eyes fall on the girl next to him, she hadn’t done anything and you didn’t want to start something with a stranger, but after a dramatic eye roll, you locked a harsh glare on the boy.

He jerks back as if your stare was a sharp knife digging into his stomach, a flash of confusion and hurt landing on his face. His mouth gapes open to question your attitude, but there’s no time for words to escape him before your turning and heading towards the exit.

It’s as if the room is suddenly filled with dozens of more people than there were before you saw him. Elbows and shoulders hitting you as you move through the ocean of bodies, every contact on your skin sparking your irritation up by a few degrees as you start to get overwhelmed by the activity around you. Being touched felt like a demon was dancing around your shoulders to see how much he could get on your nerves, to see how much he could push you until you made a bad decision.

The cold air that hits you when you get outside turns your stomach, your nails clawing into the railing of the house’s porch in an attempt to calm your breathing and cool the fire burning in your belly.

You wanted to be angry when you heard you name coming from his lips, but the concern in his voice and the warmth of his hand running against your back makes you melt in both happiness that he followed you and shame at how that made you feel.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” he asks and you decide then that you don’t want sympathy. You wanted every other part of him all to yourself and if that wasn’t realistic, then you might as well take what you know you could get.

You turn faster than he expected as he jumps slightly as you move in his arms. Your fingers immediately grab the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, your nose pressing into his as he grabs at your hips to steady himself.

“I need you Mark,” your sudden whiny tone throwing him off from what he had witnessed in the house. You tug on his shirt and pout up at him in a way that, no matter what the situation, has made him give you exactly what you wanted, “please?”

“Um.. yea- yeah okay,” he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, a small smile pulling on his lips, “are you sure? You’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you lie, as you move to press your mouth along his jaw to avoid making any more eye contact, “just need to get fucked real bad.”

The laugh that shakes his chest feels like nails being pressed into your heart.

The drive to your house was used to plot your revenge, and maybe your last time having Mark to yourself. You had pulled him away from someone else tonight, but how many more times could you do that before he decided he didn’t want to be pulled anymore? Your friend had said he was a boyfriend type, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he sees you as someone to date.

And that's how you got where he laid now. You barely gave him time to park before you were jumping out of his car and stomping to your front door. Your quick strides made him have to pick up his pace behind you, only just getting his foot in the door before it slammed in his face.

You only glanced behind you as he locked the door behind him. You voice cold as you walk to your bedroom as you command, “take off your shirt.”

You heard him fumbling behind you as you strip to your underwear and climb onto your bed and once he had walked through the doorway everything was a blur.

Your nails dig harshly into the skin of his chest as you sit up, a small smile pulling on your lips when he whimpers out from the pain. You run your hands up and down the skin of his stomach as you take in his form, trying to memorize every inch below you. You feel your breath deepen as you move over the boy that’s ruled the space of your mind for so long.

“C‘mon sweetheart,” he encourages, your eyes falling shut when his voice wraps around your bones, “do something to me.”

The quickness of your response is almost embarrassing, as you sit back on his hips. Your fingers grip tightly onto his belt when his bulge digs into your core, the rough fabric of his jeans sending you reeling. Your shoulders shift forward and your thighs tense as you begin to slowly rock against him.

You whimper as pleasure runs up your spine, your arousal already beginning to seep into the fabric of your underwear and dampening his jeans as you move desperately on him.

It’s always been this way since the first time you had each other. Your mean attitude melts once you're on top of him, even when he’s locked up the way he is now. Even with the upper hand he’s still made his claim on your heart and you’d do anything to please him. But that doesn’t stop you from loving to watch him squirm.

“Fuck Mark,” your words are raspy as they leave you mixed with a groan. Your hips rapidly rutting against him as your body craves the type of orgasm that only the boy below you has been able to pull from you.

“Move down to my thigh,” he demands, his hips tilting upward to try to get you to move away, “wanna watch you come on my thigh before I'm inside you.”

You shake your head defiantly as your hips start moving in circles, your clit meeting the spot where his tip presses into the fabric and making you tremble and moan.

“Mm fuck,” his hips lift off the bed to match your pace, this and the way his teeth digs into his lip and the fact that he refuses to say the safe word you two agreed on is all you need to keep continuing, “fuck stop I don’t want to come in my pants.”

“Then don’t,” you sneer as you slow your hips to press harder into him. You both moan in the stuffy air that fills the room, the promise of an orgasm finally starting to bite at your skin.

“I can’t stop it when you’re acting like this,” he pleads and swears loudly as you continue your motions. His conflicting emotions of wanting to hold off but also wanting to come so badly showing blatantly on his pretty face, “fuck you’re always so mean when you’re in control.”

“Deal with it, you wouldn’t come back if you didn’t like it,” your words are punctuated with a throaty groan as you start to come. The muscles in your stomach flexes as you clench hard around nothing. Your body shakes as you fall forward, you palms lying flat on his stomach to hold you up as it feels like you’re being ripped at the seams. The static in your brain almost fully blocks out the irritated swearing you hear from below you and loud metallic sound that follows.

You can’t stop the scream you let out when you’re suddenly pressed face down into your sheets, your ass pressed back into his crotch as his harsh fingers curl around your hips. Your body still shakes in aftershocks and makes your head feel like it’s filled with water.

“I told you to move to my thigh,” he voice is rough, but not truly angry as he sits up behind you. He shoves his thigh between your legs to make a point, the friction from his jeans digging into the sensitive skin of your core makes you whimper as he uses his hands to pull you back and forth on the length of his thigh, “why don’t you ever fucking listen to me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” you bite back. Your nails claw into the sheets below you as you move with his hands. The pleasure and the pace of everything happening around you melts your brain as you speak before you can stop yourself, “if you didn’t you would have stayed with that girl from the party instead of coming back with me.”

He stops moving once your words reach his ears, his fingers massaging your skin the only part of him that moves as he lets the sentence move through his mind. You cringe at the realization of what you said and at the feeling of his nails scraping your skin as he pulls one hand away.

“Are you by any chance jealous sweetheart?” you hurry your face into the mattress in shame, your ears perking up only when you hear the clicking noise of his belt and the sharp sound of his zipper being pulled down.

You hum into the fabric pressed to your face as you sink further down towards the bed at being caught having feelings like this.

You hear the cracking sound of his hand meeting your skin before you feel it, the dull throbbing pain spreading as the seconds tick. You do feel your body jump in response and more arousal begin to drip from your body.

You loudly whine in protest when his fingers gently wrap around your neck and pull you up to press against his chest, and once your face is placed next to his, he places a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Answer me baby,” his thumb runs circles into the skin protecting your jugular making you melt back into him, “were you or were you not jealous tonight.”

“Yes,” you admit, placing your pride in a wood chipper.

“Yes what?” you impatiently grunt at the question, but can’t help but love the way he’s playing with you.

“Yes daddy,” you punctuate with a roll of your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be,” he continues to press soft kisses across your skin as his body warms every inch of you. His tone is full of patience making you calm and dazed in his hold, “I’m all yours.”

You yelp, as once he’s finished speaking, he simultaneously digs his teeth into the skin of your jaw and shoves himself fully inside of you. You scratch at his arm as you flutter around him in an attempt to adjust at the sudden intrusion.

You can feel your tongue moving as you plead into the air, but when he begins thrusting into you all the sounds are formed into one mass in your mind and your toes painfully curl. His hips smacking into your skin and the way he makes you stretch around your eyes roll back.

“That’s right,” the steady tone he holds as he knocks into you is almost unnerving as you begin to ragdoll in his hold, “and this little jealous streak you have going makes me think you belong to me just as much as I belong to you.”

He shifts on his knees in search of a better angle, and once he hears your breath pick up he knows he’s found it deep inside you. The way you crumble against him makes him wear a mean grin.

“All mine aren’t you?” he sounds far too proud of himself for your liking. There’s a beat of silence before his open palm lands harshly once again on the tingly skin of your ass, “aren’t you?”

“Yes Mark,” you spit out before you begin gnawing on your lip. Tears form across your water line as once the words finally leave you, he rewards you by moving to press his calloused fingers against your clit.

Incoherent words spill from you as you jerk against him, but he only laughs in response. He immediately starts moving tight circles against the buzzing skin, enjoying the way your chest moves from the way your body arches away from him, your nipples pressing against the thin fabric of your bralette making his brain go haywire.

“You need to come baby,” his voice is gruff and strained as he bosses you, finally showing the way your so tightly wrapped around him is affecting him, “after the little game you played earlier, I’m not gonna last long. You know that don’t you? That’s why you did it?”

“No Mark, I promise,” you shake your head as you grind against his fingers, a second orgasm looming over your head.

“Now don’t start lying to me now, you evil little thing,” you can feel yourself start to shake and your legs start to tingle as he whispers his taunts in your ear, “come for me.”

His fingers, his words, and the way he splits you apart pushes you flying over the edge. Your orgasm floods your veins as you clench harshly around him, the pleasure rocketing up your spine and making you cry out.

The way you wrap around him as you come, makes his hips stutter as he begins to come. He lets out a long groan into your ear and the sound and the feeling of him releasing warm and thick inside you makes your hands reach back to desperately grab at his hips. His fingers speed up as he comes, his orgasm making his brain too foggy to register that he’s elongating your orgasm until it’s bordering on painful.

His adrenaline subsides as he releases the last bit of come inside you, making his balance falter as he collapses both of you to the bed. He’s conscious enough to move his hand from your throat, and instead moves it to pet your face in an attempt to sooth you.

He’s still deep inside of you as he presses his chest against your back to curl around you. His heated breath hitting your face as he uses your face as a pillow as both of your breaths even out. You feel his knee push between your legs, and it feels like your muscles have been turned to jello.

It feels like decades before he finally whispers, almost like he’s afraid that speaking too loud would scare you away, “I didn’t know you’d be jealous.”

“Stop,” you cringe at how sinscere he sounds.

“No we need to talk about it,” his arm wraps around your ribcage and pulling you closer, wanting to make sure you feel safe before entering the conversation.

“I never thought about how you were feeling, so I really never expected you to get jealous over something like that, so I’m sorry.”

“Mark stop,” you don’t think when your hands falls to lace your fingers with his, “I’m the one who overreacted and got jealous over something that wasn’t my business. You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to,” he shifts onto his elbow to peer down at you, the emotion behind his eyes scaring you, “if you got that jealous, that means you were clearly feeling something deeper that I wasn’t noticing, and considering how strongly I feel about you, it’s disappointing that I didn’t notice.”

“What do you mean how strongly you feel?” the insecurity in your tone makes your stomach turn, but you need to know.

“I like you a lot,” he sighs deeply once the words are out in the open, “and I have since we met, but when you said you didn’t do relationships I convinced myself that I couldn’t lose you so I just agreed. It was stupid, but I really change your mind if I just stuck around.”

“You did though,” you hand mindlessly moves to grab onto his ear, your fingers kneading the cartalidge and making him shiver, “I like you too, and I should have told you but I was being a brat about the idea of actually liking someone.”

“Oh so we‘re both dumb hm?” he teased leaning into your touch, the fondness behind his eyes making warmth spread across your chest.

“Yeah but I think we already knew that.”

“True,” he lays back down to wrap himself around you and press his mouth tightly against yours momentarily, “also that girl was only a classmate. You got jealous for nothing.”

“Nothing is an understatement,” you groan in embarrassment, “we never defined what we were, there was no reason for me to get wound up like that.”

“If I had just gotten the nerve to tell you that I wanted a relationship you never would have gotten wound up.”

“We really are both dumb,” your blank tone pulls a boyish laugh from him, making him smile and press kisses across you skin.

“You wear me out you know that?” you grin up at him, batting your eyelashes in a way that would read as innocent if you weren’t tangled together in the way you were.

You lean up slightly, crowding his space with your breath, before running your tongue over the seam of his slightly parted mouth, “like you’re not obsessed with it.”

He darts forward, catching you lips in his and making you squeal both from shock and the feeling of him slipping out of you from his movements. He circles your body with his arms and pulls you to lay on top of him.

“You know I’ve never met anyone like you,” you squirm against him, not actually trying to get anywhere just to annoy him a bit. Your legs fall to the sides to straddle him, reminding you of the way the series of events that happened in your bed tonight started. You squeak and pout when he digs his teeth into the skin of your jaw to still you as you keep shifting, “and I don’t think I ever will.”

“Same to you Mark. You’ve ruined me.”

#nct smut #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct imagines #mark imagine #nct fanfic #mark fanfic #nct oneshot #mark oneshots

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXII

A/n: More spiciness coming your way! Or "lime" in terms of fanfiction. Nothing too intense, though. Also, If you a "•••••" that signifies visions/memories/dreams. Hope you enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

(Y/n)'s eyes flew open with a gasp. She looked around and saw she was laying by the train tracks. A few feet away from her, she spotted Prompto who was still unconscious. Pushing her aching body off the ground, she crawled over to him. She gently placed a hand on his arm and called out to him. "Prompto?" She didn't want to shake him in fear of not knowing if he was injured.

After a few minutes, Prompto regained consciousness. He groaned as he sat up. Remembering Noctis had pushed him and (Y/n) off the train, he looked around. "Wh-Where are we...?"

"I...I don't know, Prom. I'm sorry."

Prompto placed his hand over the one she had on his arm. "You don't have to apologize, (Y/n)." He wrapped his hand around her fingers and squeezed them. "I'm just glad I'm not lost and alone."

"Are you hurt?" She asked, eyes raking over his body in search of any severe injuries.

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just a few scratches and bruises, no biggy. What about you?"

"I'm okay."

The couple stood up, fighting against the pain that wracked their bodies. They both dusted off their clothes before following the tracks in the direction the train went. They trekked for what felt like hours until they arrived at a small hut that seemed to be abandoned. The temperature had dropped significantly and snowflakes began falling from the sky.

To ward off the cold, they entered the abandoned hut. Inside they found the remains of what used to be a small kitchen attached to a living room and bedroom. Some of the furniture still remained while others were missing, leaving only dust particles in their places.

Hearing the chattering of teeth, (Y/n) turned around to face Prompto. "Are you cold?"

He answered with a simple nod, rubbing his gloved hands up and down his arms. She guided him over to the dusty couch, wiping off a space for him to sit on. Turning to the fireplace, she saw there was still firewood inside. Holding out her hand, she ignited the wood. "I'm going to see if there's any blankets around here."

(Y/n) walked over to the large wardrobe near the double bed in the corner of the hut. Opening the doors, she coughed when she was met with a cloud of dust. She fanned the minuscule particles out of her face before searching the wardrobe. She found a single blanket, a pair of fur-lined boots with a matching jacket, and a knit skull cap. She examined the clothing, wondering if they were Prompto's size. Grabbing everything the wardrobe had to offer, she returned to her boyfriend.

"You'll never guess what I found," she smiled at him, squatting down in front of him. Placing the blanket down, she showed him the boots, jacket, and hat. "Think you could wear these? They'll protect you from the cold better than what you're wearing now."

"G-Guess I could try them on..." Prompto said as his teeth chattered once again. He stood up and took off his vest. Picking up the fur-lined jacket, he glanced up at his beloved. "Maybe you should take the jacket, (Y/n)."

Because her element was fire, she didn't have to fear the cold like him. Although her powers were diminished in cold climates, it didn't stop her body temperature from dropping. "I'll be fine, Prom. You'll need it more than I will."

"Oh, right. The whole warm thing..." Prompto switched out his vest for the jacket, then changed his boots. The ones she found were a size too big, but he didn't mind. Finally, he put on the knit skull cap.

Once he was dressed, (Y/n) grabbed the blanket and handed it to him. "You should warm up a little more." She took a step back after he took the blanket from her. "I'm gonna see if there's anything for us to eat."

Before she could turn away from him to head to the kitchen, Prompto twisted the blanket and hooked it around her waist. She gasped as he tugged on the ends of the blanket and pinned her body against his. Their torsos were pressed together, hearts racing in unison. Prompto leant down and rested his forehead against hers. He stared into her gold-slitted eyes before placing a passionate kiss on her lips. The moment she turned her head and opened her mouth, he slipped his tongue inside.

Eventually, they landed on the dusty couch. Prompto pinned (Y/n) beneath him, one hand resting by her head while the other caressed her left side. Once the heated kiss ended and both were panting, the boy wasn't finished just yet. He left a trail of kisses down her jawline and neck, stopping briefly at the crook of her neck. He mentally debated with himself for a few minutes before overruling his hesitation. Latching on to a sensitive patch of skin on her neck, he sucked hard.

(Y/n) gasped at the sensation. It hurt, but gave her a slight tinge of pleasure. She gripped the front of his new jacket. "P-Prompto, what're you doing...?"

He lifted his head from her neck and smiled innocently at her. "What? You've never heard of a hickey before?"

"Of course I have!" She smacked his chest. "Why're you giving me one?!"

"I just felt like it."

She rolled her eyes with a groan. "What a selfish reason..."

His smile widened as he leant back down, nuzzling his nose against hers. "What can I say? You make me selfish."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"A hundred percent!"

All of a sudden, Prompto's joyous smile was overwritten by a sorrowful frown. He stared at the hickey on her neck before trailing his thumb over it. "This is a dream, right?" He asked weakly. "When I wake up, you'll be gone and I'll be all alone. You've been a figment if my imagination this entire time, haven't you?"

(Y/n) frowned melancholically. She grabbed the front of his jacket tighter and overpowered him. She pushed herself off the couch and flipped their positions. Now Prompto was the one underneath her. She stared into his eyes, her expression going stoic. Locating the zipper of the jacket, she unzipped it. Even though he had put it on just a while ago, she was now taking it off him.

With the jacket no longer an obstacle, she reached for the hem of his tank top. Her hands slid underneath the fabric, her warm flesh pressed against his cold abdomen. She gently grazed her nails across his skin before her fingers traced the small hints of muscle across his abdomen. "I'm not a figment of your imagination, Prompto. Nor are you dreaming. I will still be here no matter how many times you open and close your eyes." She removes her hands from underneath his shirt and grabbed one of his hands. She placed it over her racing heart, a gentle smile replacing her stoic expression. "I'm real, and I love you."

Prompto vanquished his dark thoughts. Although he still believed Noctis betrayed him, he was able to push the thought to the back of his mind. When she placed her other hand on his cheek, he leaned into her touch and placed a kiss on the underside of her wrist. "I love you too, (Y/n)." He covered her hand with his and pressed it closer to his cheek. His thumb caressed the top of her hand.

She bent over and placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose after seeing the telltale signs of his exhaustion. He was slowly succumbing to sleep and wanted him to rest. "Sleep, Prom. I'll be here when you wake up."

With those reassuring words, Prompto fell fast asleep.

<——————————————<<<<<

Several days later after being pushed off the train, Prompto and (Y/n) had been hiking through the snowy landscape. After an hour, the gentle snowfall turned into a blizzard. The guardian was unfazed by the cold, but the marksman was suffering. His body was starting to be engulfed with frost and he was at high risk of hypothermia. He covered his face with his left arm to protect himself from the blizzard, but it was futile.

(Y/n) stayed as close as possible to him, but not even her warmth could stave off the freezing temperatures of the blizzard. She wrapped her arm around his right one, pressing her body against his. She refused to let him go. He leaned into her warmth, wishing it could've been enough to fought off the chill nipping at his bones and freezing the blood in his veins. "It's freezing out here..." He managed to say before his teeth started chattering.

"I wish I could do more for you," (Y/n) said over the harsh winds of the blizzard.

"You being here is enough," he stated.

"I meant to warm you," she weakly giggled. "Even if I used my powers, it wouldn't provide much warmth. I'm out of my element out here."

Prompto tried to respond, but his body lurched forward. He fell to his knees, taking (Y/n) with him. He gasped painfully, the frigid air burning his lungs. He grabbed the girl's arm and leaned against her body. With her help, he was able to get back to his feet. She supported his weight, but she noticed he was walking slower than before.

"What a way to go," she heard Prompto mumble.

"If you think I'm going to let you die here, you're wrong." She stepped away from Prompto for a second and was about to transform when she heard a 'thump' beside her. Looking down, she saw he collapsed face first into the snow. "Prompto!" She shrieked, kneeling beside him. She noticed his eyes were barely open and he was beginning to lose consciousness.

Through his blurry vision, Prompto could make out (Y/n)'s distraught expression. He could also see two imperial airships heading straight for them. Just as they reached their location, soldiers jump down onto the snowfield from the drop ships above. He watched helplessly as the guardian tried to face off against the adversaries, but one shot her in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. All he heard was her cry of pain and her body collapsing into the snow beside him.

With what little strength he had left, Prompto dragged his body through the snow towards her. His inner thoughts were screaming at him to protect her and so he tried. With a shaky hand, he reached out and grabbed hers. He held it until one of the soldiers hauled her body over his shoulder. He tried to glare at him as he managed to find his voice for a split second. "Let...her...go..." He weakly lifted his head and reached a hand out towards the soldier carrying her. His arm fell into the snow as his vision turned black and his entire world went dark.

•••••

Prompto's body reverts to his child years as he walks across the courtyard outside the Citadel with his eyes cast down.

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was friends..." A younger Prompto began.

He looks up to see Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis as adults coming down the steps of the Citadel. They walk past him and across the courtyard, seeming to not even notice him.

"...But no one ever wanted me back."

The young Prompto watches them go, then hangs his head.

"So when I finally found people who did want me, I did everything I could to make them stay."

The young boy lifted his head when he heard the laughter of a girl. In the distance, he saw a little girl four years older than him with (h/c) locks running around while hugging a stuffed chocobo.

"Even with her by my side, I still desperately tried to find other people who wanted me."

Young Prompto starts to run after his friends and the little girl, but they vanish. He hangs his head once more and turns to walk back towards the Citadel steps.

"And ever since then, I've lived my life in fear..."

The little boy sits down on the steps.

"...That, one day, they'd find out who I really was, and they wouldn't want me anymore. Once knowing truth, even she would leave me."

Young Prompto looks up as his mind fills with his memories from his journey with Noctis, Gladio, Ignis, and (Y/n). The one memory that plagued his mind the most was of his best friend attacking him and (Y/n) atop the train before falling.

•••••

Prompto awakens laying face down on the floor in a research lab. He grunts, looks around him, and slowly gets up onto one knee. Looking down at his right wrist, he realizes the bracelets he wore to hide the barcode on the back of his wrist were missing. His eyes widen in horror at the sight of the missing accessories. "They're gone. Where's (Y/n)'s gemstone?"

He searched his pockets and couldn't find a single bracelet. He looked around the room again and noticed he was alone. Getting to his feet, his eyes scanned the room once again. "What... What is this place?" As he remembered what happened to the girl, he shouted her name. "(Y/n)?!"

Locating a control panel beside metal doors, Prompto rushes over and lays his right hand on the panel. An automated voice begins speaking, startling the marksman. "Scanning production code." He gasps and looks around him, taking a step back as the automated voice continues. "Unit 05953234 confirmed."

The metal doors before him slide open. Prompto looks down at his barcode as the computerized voice speaks once more. "Warning: this unit has been compromised. Initiating retrieval of compromised unit."

"What's going on?" Prompto muttered in fear.

Suddenly, Ardyn's voice mockingly chimes in from behind him. "She still remembers you, after all these years."

Prompto turns to face him. "You..." He tries to conjure his weapon, but nothing appears. He looks down at his hand with a puzzled expression. "What gives?"

As Ardyn walks toward Prompto, he pulls out the confused younger man's gun and waves it aloft. "We can't have you spilling blood here." The boy takes a step back as the chancellor reveals what else he was holding. It was the bracelet with the golden gemstone. Prompto's eyes widen at seeing the accessory in the man's possession. Smirking, Ardyn dangled the bracelet in the air haphazardly. "Although to most this compound is known only as the First Magitek Production Facility, birthplace of the myriad magitek troopers and daemons the empire holds dear, to you and that darling guardian this place should have some sentimental value. After all, it is both your home sweet home."

Prompto's expression becomes intense. "Shut up," he growled.

"I'm not the one who almost killed you," the chancellor remarked, twirling the bracelet around his index finger.

"You're wro—"

Ardyn lets Prompto's gun turn upside down over his finger and shoves its handle against the boy's chest. Prompto reaches up to grab it and the auburn-haired man releases it for him to take. Ardyn then takes a step back with the bracelet still in his possession. "You really ought to take a rest." He took a few steps back. "Perhaps the estimable Chief Besithia will help heal that broken heart of yours."

Prompto's glare sharpened. "Who the hell is that?"

"Oh, how quickly they forget. But fear not: I've no doubt a reunion would refresh your memory. Your precious (Y/n) may also shine some light on the situation for her memories of this place are quite vivid."

Ardyn turns and begins walking away. Prompto raises his gun and points it at the chancellor's back. "Wait!" He shouted, causing the man to stop and turn back around. Prompto gripped the pistol tighter, ready to pull the trigger. "Give that back!"

The chancellor glanced at the bracelet in his possession before smiling eerily at the blonde. "Why, this doesn't belong to you, dear boy. You may be one and the same, but this bracelet belongs to another."

Prompto's hands shook, his aim becoming unsteady. "What're you talking about?!"

"My, my. She hasn't told you?" With a mocking smile, he waved the bracelet around. "A shame, really, but all your questions will soon be answered. Ta-ta, dear boy."

Just as Prompto was about to pull the trigger, the chancellor walks away and seemingly vanishes into thin air. He lowers his gun with a frustrated expression. Holstering the firearm, he looks around the room one last time with determination. "I'm gonna find 'em—wherever they are. I'll get that bracelet back and find (Y/n). We'll get the hell outta here together." With those final words, Prompto leaves the room.

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

[instasiswetrust]

Werewolf AU (Steve centric)

When the wolf finds him, Steve's been sitting on that rock for nigh on an hour. Or at least, he assumes it could've been an hour even when it feels like he's been there for merely a handful of minutes.

He doesn't turn to greet the wolf, doesn't even flinch, heavy gaze entirely focused on the two-story house he can make out at the bottom of the hill. From his place on the raised rock, just at the edge of the trees where the pine forest meets the last remnants of the suburban landscape, he knows no one can spot him from down there. He can see them though.

Two figures, partially hidden by the curtains that frame the open window, sit at a table. He thinks they might be having dinner, trading inane chatter like it was any other day. And you know, maybe it was.

(He tries not to dwell on how much that thought makes his chest ache.)

Behind him, a soft rustle can be heard, the crunching of heavy boots on dried pine needles, before someone sits next to him on the rock. Their legs dangle off the edge of the raised rock, and by the mismatched pink and green striped socks they are wearing, Steve can easily tell who they are.

"It's been two hours, Stevie. Dad thought you had gotten lost in the woods again."

Susie.

(For some reason he had thought Frank would've found him first. He decides not to think about the small spark of disappointment that he feels.)

"Sorry." He mutters, prying his gaze away from the house and facing her properly. She's shorter than he is and it makes him have to look down at her. In her hands is a partially eaten chocolate bar - where she got it, Steve doesn't know - and when she notices his eyes on her, she raises it slightly so he can take a bite from it.

Steve wonders if she's doing it because of the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, or the way his hair is lying limp against his head from all the times he had run his hands through it. Either way, he's glad she doesn't mention it

"Doesn't chocolate make us sick?" Maybe it's ironic for him to ask when he's taking a bite of the chocolate too, but he could do with the sweetness.

"Life without chocolate it's not worth living." And when she smiles, her cheeks dimple in the cutest of ways. It's honest, happy, and slightly manic, childish in a way that reminds him so much of Dustin that he ends up choking back tears.

She doesn't say anything but her eyes soften. Next thing he knows, she's all but pulled him into an embrace, his face smooshed into her shoulder in a slightly awkward angle due to their height difference. The way he doesn't even bother finding a more comfortable position, his whole body relaxing under her touch, is evidence enough of how much he needed something like this.

"I miss them." Whispered like a secret, his words muffled against the fabric of her pink cable knit sweater, even as the first sob wracks through him. “I k-know I shouldn't because they don't s-seem to care that I left but-”

Her hands are on his hair, fingers carding gently through it, even as she hums a lullaby under her breath. It makes him sob harder, face hidden against the curve of her shoulder, hands desperately clinging to her.

Susie never comments on it. She doesn't try to justify his feelings or vilify his parents. Her sole focus is on him, letting him cry it out without caring if her sweater gets stained with tears. Once he's finally calmed down, she waits for him to put himself back together before standing and helping him up.

“Come, Stevie. Let's go back before Dad starts worrying.”

------

The thing about shifting into a wolf was that keeping any coherent thoughts was absolute hell to do, especially when you had only been a wolf for three whole weeks. Thinking he could somehow sneak into town without being seen was foolish to even consider.

That still didn't stop Steve.

Dustin. Robin. Nancy.

Names repeating in his brain that made absolutely no sense to a wolf who couldn't make sense of abstract concepts. But they were important. He could feel it under his skin, like an itch that he couldn't scratch. How he would find them, he wasn't sure, but he would.

And that's how he ends up climbing clumsily into the open window that leads to Dustin's room, making a racket as he topples over half a dozen action figures that were settled on the dresser. His nails clack sharply against the hardwood floors, nose twitching curiously at all the scents that fill the room.

A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye has him turning his head to the side, finding himself at the foot of a raised structure that he vaguely remembers is meant to be den. On it, a human child holds a complicated plastic...thing, pointing it directly at him. He smells of curiosity and fear but under it, all is a scent so familiar that it makes the wolf's chest ache with emotions he can't name, a soft confused whine escaping him.

The child tilts its head at the sound, curiosity seemingly winning over his fear as he crawls closer to the edge of the raised platform, eyes locking on the wolf- No. On Steve.

That single moment of clarity is all Steve needs to trigger back the change, skin morphing and bones cracking, as his body protests with the pain of forcing him back into a form resembling something human. At last, there's no wolf, just a very naked teenager sitting in the middle of Dustin's room with a nerf gun pointed at him.

"Steve?!" He flinches despite Dustin's voice being no louder than a whisper. A cold breeze streams through the open window, making him shiver and reminding him that he's still very much naked.

"Look, I promise I will explain just-" Steve flushes, fumbling with the necklace on his neck until it spits out the change of clothes he had saved in there. "Let me get dressed because this is awfully embarrassing."

"I uh- sure?" And it's clear by his tone of voice that he's choking on a laugh but he does cover his eyes to give Steve some privacy.

It doesn't take long before he's fully dressed, sitting on the corner of Dustin's bed while his friend stares at him with eyes filled with curiosity and accusation. Steve cannot blame him. For all everyone knew he could've been dead no matter what the note he left behind said.

"So you're a werewolf." Not a question but he nods, feeling uncomfortable as he remembers Evan saying he couldn't tell anyone else for the safety of not only himself but the pack.

"You weren't supposed to find out about that but it's hard keeping human thoughts while I remain a wolf." Dustin has that look on his face that Steve knows means he wants to ask more questions but is refraining himself from doing so. It makes him smile at the familiarity of it all. "I'm not actually supposed to be here, in fact."

"Why? Did you get kidnapped by a werewolf cult or something? Is that why you left?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head quickly. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just for safety, y'know? Monster hunters are common in small towns like this according to Da- according to Evan."

His slip up makes Dustin quirk an eyebrow.

"Were you just about to call this Evan guy, Dad?"

"Look-" But before he could start explaining, the younger boy interrupted him again.

"Wait, you said Monster hunters, not Werewolf hunters. Does that mean other creatures are real? Like Fae, and Tieflings, and Vampires? Is Dracula real? Is Mothman real?" He's firing questions with the swiftness of a TV presenter, Steve immediately putting hands on his shoulders to slow him down.

"Slow down, dingus." He teases, the old nickname making Dustin roll his eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be saying any of this but I guess since you've already seen me..."

"C'mon Steve, tell me at least a little! Please?" And Dustin's known Steve for long enough that he's aware the guy is absolutely weak when it comes to puppy eyes.

He sighs, running a hand through his face before caving in. "Monsters are real, yes. I only know a few, those that have visited the pack for the most part, but Dr. Herman has many Bestiaries around that he agreed to let me read once I graduate from Evan's pack dynamic classes."

Dustin is absolutely beaming with all the new information, a hundred questions waiting to be voiced on his lips but suddenly his expression falls, brows furrowing and teeth worrying his bottom lip. He's avoiding Steve's gaze and his scent stinks of sadness.

"Hey, what's the matter? I thought you would be excited to know Mothman might be real?" He's still saying nothing and Steve is starting to grow worried. Did he do something wrong?

"This means you aren't coming back...right?" It's barely above a whisper but Steve's hearing is so sharp that he has no trouble hearing him. Inside his chest, his heart clenches painfully.

When he shakes his head and Dustin's gaze falls to his lap, Steve feels like his body is being filled with lead.

"I still have my phone with me, and I might be able to visit in the future but... No. I'm not coming back, Dustin." Grief bubbles in his chest, choking him up and making his eyes burn with the tears he wants to shed but refuses to.

Dustin tackles him into a hug, squeezing him so hard that it hurts but Steve doesn't mind, hugging him back just as tightly. If either of them cries they don't bother mentioning it.

It's not important after all.

----

Dawn shines pink and orange over the horizon when he makes it back to the ranch, exhausted to his bones.

Evan is waiting for him in the kitchen when he steps in and Steve is not surprised. The older werewolf had the uncanny ability to know when any of them were getting into trouble, after all. So all Steve does is hang his head, feeling the weight of Evan's gaze on him.

"Sit." He says, and his voice doesn't give anything away. So Steve sits and waits for the reprimanding he's so sure will come.

Except it doesn't.

"You have been crying. Are you hurt?" Evan is truly concerned it seems, his voice firm but not too loud. Is enough to bring the tears back to Steve's eyes, a broken sob leaving him as he hides his head in his hands. And all the older man does is rub his back comfortingly until his sobs have been reduced to occasional sniffles. Only then does he speak again.

"Feeling better?" Steve nods, once, before stopping and shaking his head. Evan chuckles, his gruff voice is oddly comforting. "Ah, here I was thinking you had been taking all these changes a little too well."

"I'm used to rolling with the punches." Steve tries offering him a smile but it comes out looking more like a grimace so he ends up giving it up altogether. He hates how true that statement is but Evan understands.

(Somehow, he always understands when it comes to Steve's parents.)

They are both quiet after that, the silence comforting were it not for the way Steve's stomach roiled with his guilt. He had to say something, apologize, or the shame would eat him alive.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry I went out to town without telling anyone but it's just- I was homesick, and I missed my friends so much, and I basically left without giving Dustin an expl-" He's babbling out of nervousness, excuses spooling out of him like worn thread but he pauses once Evan settles his heavy hand on his shoulder. Big hands. Hands capable of drawing the softest of portraits with as much ease as they could choke out a deer.

"I'm not mad, pup." Steve has to bite his cheek at that to stop his eyes from filling up with tears again over something so silly as a word. "Kinda expected you to eventually do it. Had Danny's cat familiar follow you last night just to make sure you would be okay."

Steve thinks he should feel offended by that last bit of information but he honestly cannot give a fuck when he's basically swimming in the relief that courses through him at Evan's words. He knows and he isn't mad. Knows and doesn't blame him for showing weakness.

(Knows and still loves him.)

Evan smiles, barely an upturn of his lips but it's there and his words are soft when he says, "Go to bed, pup."

He does. And for the first time in a while, he doesn't dream at all.

#dbd #dead by daylight #drabbles #steve harrington #evan macmillan #dustin henderson #dbd susie #werewolf au

[enigma-im]

Working for the Weekend Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Orc x Female!Human Warning: Fluff, finishing courting, big cock, sex, penetration, fingering, orc on human

Word Count:3209

Part 1

                    Finishing the courting --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I manage to convince Matilda to work later on Saturday so I can have the night off. It didn’t take much to persuade her after I told her why. She is a real friend to help me get laid. I work a little earlier, it already after sundown now. I want the hours so Ritz doesn’t accuse me of being lazy.

I nervously wipe the bar counter for the hundredth time, even taking time to wipe the stools. My brain running a mile a minute at the excitement about to happen. Azhug didn’t tell me where he was going to take me or if I needed to bring anything. I guess I wouldn’t need to if he is taking me to have sex. Or as he calls it 'finish the courting'. Just thinking about it that way brings butterflies to my stomach. It's not just a quick lay but a commitment, what more could a girl want? Big strong strapping young orc claiming you for a night of pleasure that serves as a promise for nights to come, that’s a dream come true if I'm being honest.

The bell chimes above the door with a startling ring. With way too much eagerness I look over, nearly cracking my neck in the process. Azhug walks in with a confident stride; back straight, shoulders relax, and wide steps. Our eyes meet as the door closes behind him, the only thing coming to mind being 'Damn'. He cleans up nicely, looking more appetizing than when I first met him. I can't help but stare, not that he seems to mind in the slightest.

"Close your mouth darling, you're gonna catch flies," Matilda chuckles. Blushing with a giggle I glance down at the bar top a bit embarrassed. I nibble my cheek to stop the girlish grin wanting to break free. Fuck, I'm way too excited about this.

His footsteps become more attention-grabbing as he nears the bar, stopping right in front of me. Looking up with the stupid girlish smile I tried to fight I attempt to think of words. I gain no knowledge on how to speak when I see his grin, not cocky or smug but genuinely happy.

"hi," I greet with a squeak. Where did my brain go? Perhaps blood flowing elsewhere is to blame.

"Hello Emma," he says back. The low timbre of his voice sending chills down my spine. Man, I am a Cumbrian today. Not that his voice hasn't always held my interest but I wouldn't go as far as to say it made different parts of me more interested than others.

Without any more words, Azhug grips my waist and lifts me up and over his shoulder, resting his hand on my rear. He turns and walks confidently out the bar then into the night.

"See you tomorrow, Emma," Matilda laughs. I wave before we exit, the door closing behind in a finality sort of way. No turning back, not that I would if I could.

Azhug marches up the road, cutting off to a path leading into the woods. We pass hundreds of trees until I finally bothering asking where we are going.

"This way," he answers as he palms my rear.

"Well I gathered that much, but where does this way end," I rephrase. Instead of answering he instead pops me on the ass.

"Too many questions," he jokingly scolds. I chuckle and just enjoy the ride, admiring his toned back as I do.

We make it to a clearing towards the top of a hill, the area plateauing into a small open space. Once he gently takes me off his shoulder I get the full view.

"Oh wow," I gasp.

The clearing ends not with more tree but a stiff cut off to a beautiful view of the mountains. The sky is clear and decorated with a few stars, perhaps as the night continues it will be littered with the twinkly bits. The area is just barely illuminated by the moon cresting over the peaks, making the scene more captivating with it nearly full visage.

"Do you like it," Azhug timidly asks from behind. I can't bother with words yet so I merely nod. With the Emma seal of approval, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around my middle while resting his chin onto my head. The view somehow gains more beauty as I share it with him, holding his arms and leaning back into his chest.

"Great choice," I mumble," can't imagine a more beautiful sight."

He hums," I can think of a few." I wait for his answer but as he doesn't provide one I glance up at him. He stares down at me with such want it's almost suffocating. I find myself reaching up and cupping his face, bringing him down to press my lips against his. It's gentle, which anyone would find shocking coming from an orc. The tenderness of his touch as he tugs me closer to his chest is startling arousing. Never been a softy but I can't help but adore the romantic environment mixed with his gentle hold.

His touches become a bit more enthusiastic as I turn to his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to feel more of him. His hands wander to the small of my back before he gropes at my rear. I sigh, breaking the kiss. He wastes no time trailing his lips down my cheek to my neck, licking the flesh before sucking to leave a mark.

"fuck," I arch my chest into his. My nipples harden under my shirt, scratching against the fabric with every inhale. His fingers knead my cheeks with an excited growl. Before I can think straight I find myself on my back in the grass. He towers over me, his face still buried to my neck. I sit in for the ride, carding my fingers through his hair before pulling a fistful back. He grunts as he rests his forehead to my shoulder, taking a moment before sitting up.

He sits upon his knees, watching me through lidded eyes. He trails them down my body, paying particularly long glances at my chest. Once he looks down at my hips he licks his lips. He splits my thighs so he can settle between them, holding my legs high on his waist. He yanks me closer, laughing as I yelp in surprise.

"eager aren't we," I chuckle. His large hands glide down my legs to palm my hips and thighs with unrestrained vigor.

"I have wanted you all week, pity my self-control because I have none now that you are in my arms," he huffs as he reaches up to begin unlacing my shirt. Fiddling with the thin laces with his large fingers. Losing patience he grabs the barely parted fabric and rips it down the middle. Mine now uncovered breast jiggle with the force.

"very eager," I mumble in wonder. He hums in agreement as he gingerly gropes. Squeezing and massaging the globes with affection. Bringing his mouth down he takes a nipple to his tongue, licking and sucking the harden peak with a groan that matches my own. My cunt throbs with need as he pulls my teat with his teeth. I pet along his head while he leaves hickies along my chest, marking me with pride.

His kisses trail down towards my navel, stopping at the hem of my pants. His chest rumbles with an excited hum, pressing a kiss to my crotch before he curls his fingers into the clothing. Slowly, as if unwrapping a present, he drags down my bottoms with a grin I have no excuse but to adore. Seeing him smile more today than I have since I meet him is comforting. Once my untrimmed cunt is in full view he waste no more time ripping my pants off, discarding the clothing without care.

"This belongs to me now," he grunts as he cups my crotch. I buck against his palm, not being able to resist the pressure he holds against me. My slick coats his fingertips as he slides his middle between my lips. Then dragging them up to the little nub, gently circling it as he watches me. I try to hold my hips down, not grinding them into him with abandon just yet. Just enjoy the moment before it reaches out of my control. I huff as he strokes me faster, enjoying my panting breath and sighs. He leans down to kiss me as he presses two fingers inside. I groan into the kiss, shoving my tongue into his mouth as he thrust in and out. Curling his fingers as he leaves before pushing back in, trying to press his palm to my clit as he does.

I fall back against the dirt, parting from his lips to breathe properly. "Fuck," I grunt as the heel of his hand grinds against me. I buck into his finger as I groan into the night. I feel his cock through his pants, slightly humping my thigh as he watches me. I moan and curse as his fingers work their magic. I cry out as the pleasure starts to crescendo. Wildly meeting each thrust with a shout. As soon as I reach my peak my body stiffens, stopping my flailing with a choked gasp. He helps me ride out my climax with a quick short thrust of his fingers, laughing when I let out a long 'fuck'. As I relax he removes his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick clean.

"Better than your ale," he hums as he licks the juices off his palm. A tremor runs down my spine, making my stomach clench as I watch him. Nearly falling apart again as his licks himself clean.

"Too bad we don't sell this at the bar, imagine I'd be seeing you more often," I joke.

"I prefer my own private reserve," he growls with a sexy grin. I snort, chuckling as I give him a once over. My eyes trail down to his shirt, finally noticing his way too clothed body. That has to be remedied immediately.

"shirt," I reach up and tug on the bottom," off." He chuckles before grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling up. I bite my lip with delighted glee as his stomach is revealed. The slight pooch with the trail of hair guiding down into his laced pants. I continue to watch as his broad and powerful chest comes into view, his chest hair thick and wavy. I sit up and pet over his pec as he discards his shirt. I feel his heartbeat under his warm dark skin, beating strong against my palm. I lightly trail my nails down to his nipple, flicking the nub with my thumb as I pass. His hot breath brushes over my arm but he makes no other moves as I explore.

I sit up completely, pulling my legs back from around his. I run my fingers down to his happy trail, slowing my pace to a crawl when I near his pants. I look at the tent, stuck between wanting to tease and wanting to grab him now. I look up at his handsome face, smirking at his parted lips. Keeping our eyes locked I unlace his pants, grinning when he sighs with the slack. I reach in and curl my fingers around his shaft, licking my lips as I do.

I give him a soft squeeze," this is mine now," I throw his words back at him. We both grin like idiots but his turns lustful as I pull him out his pants. I drop my eyes to his impressive length, little intimidated by his width. I pull his foreskin back, getting a better look at his leaking tip. He is a big man, though he is smaller than other orcs in height his cock makes up for it in full. If I'm being honest, I'm not sure how well he is going to fit in me.

Noticing my trepidation he rest his finger below my chin, lifting till our eyes meet. "You alright," he asks with furrowed brows.

"y-yea, I'm good," I try to convince," just… you are very big." I rub my thumb over him, catching some of his pre on my finger. His stomach tenses.

"it will fit," he answers confidently. I look between his eyes, doing my best to put on a brave front.

"Are you sure," I ask as I glance down.

He lifts my head again," I will not hurt you." he holds my gaze, solidifying his confidence and truth. I smile sweetly up to him. I trust him.

"Then what are we waiting for," I grin. I lean down and kiss the tip of his cock," going to give me the ride of my life, I'm sure." he groans, his head falling to his shoulder. I don't bother with any more foreplay, falling onto my back and curling my feet to the hem of his pants. I push it down to his knees with my toes, watching him with a devilish stare.

"Bless is me," he mumbles. He falls to his hands and kicks off his pants before leaning in for a kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck as our lips meld together. He pets along my sides and down to my hips with one hand, keep himself balanced with the other. As his tongue licks along my front teeth he pulls my body closer to his. I feel his hot cock poke against the cleft of my thigh. I gasp as the sudden feeling, his tongue intruding more as I do. His hips adjust so he can settle himself between my lips. He nudges forward, grinding his cock into my folds.

"big boy indeed," I chuckle before delving my tongue into his mouth. Azhug thrust along me, his tip sliding smoothly over my clit. We buck into each other, almost lost in the experience. We gasp and groan between kisses, groping and petting along each other's bodies.

"Please," I whimper without thought, "please." he huffs as he rests his forehead to my shoulder, looking between our bodies. I watch with him as he grabs his cock and presses his tip to my entrance. The fear and anticipation battling inside me as he shoves forward. His tip alone feels like a tight fit, his huffing and groans agree with me. I breathe deep at the stuffing feeling, my hips rising to alleviate the sting. He presses on, inch by inch burying himself inside me.

"Fuck," he cries as he turns his head to kiss my neck. His tusks scratching under my jaw. He continues on slowly, nibbling, and licking me as he fills me to the brim. I try to remain relaxed, clawing at his shoulders and pulling his hair. He is a big boy. The stretching stings but I wouldn't say it hurts. A strange feeling almost comparable to my first time with a man. The strange stuffing mixed with the sharp aches of being stretched for the first time. His hard breaths and caring kisses hold back any pain, making the feeling almost desired.

With a large sigh, he bottoms out. His balls rest against my ass and his chest settles against mine. He waits with controlled breaths. I pet his back, relaxing as I listen to him. My tender breast brush against his chest, I feel his warm exhales tickle the hairs near my ear, my clit aches with need as I'm stretched over him. I buck against him when the need peaks for a moment. He chokes on a gasp. I undulate my hips, feeling the all too familiar pleasure.

I tilt my head towards his and lick along his ear," move for me." he doesn't need to be told twice. He pulls out before bucking back in sharply. I choke on a cry, closing my eyes as he thrusts into me. Finding his tempo I follow his with my own. I meet every clap of our hips with a grind of my own. Squeeze him as he leaves then crying as he enters.

He rests upon his hand and watches me, his other holding my hip. His eyes are lidded and his mouth opens with heavy breaths. His body jumps with each hard thrust of his cock. I get lost in his eyes but can't ignore the beautiful grind of him inside me. I cry out to him, whimpering and moaning. He smiles that alluring smile before he sweeps his hand from around my waist to where we meet. He slams into me harder, all too happy to watch my eyes clench up in pleasure. His finger finds and circles my clit, bringing everything to a new high.

"Az-Azhug, Fuck," I cry," please." he chuckles, continuing his strumming. I pull taut like a bowstring as I reach my peak. My head slaps back into the dirt as my back arches. My insides clench around him as I cry out. His smile falters as does his hips. He falls onto his forearm as his pleasured moans meet my own. I grip his arms firmly, my nails digging into his skin. I scream his name as he groans mine.

As I ride the waves I feel him stutter," Emma." he bucks in wild short bursts before stilling as I feel him release his hot load. The warmth feeling divine accompanied with his drawn-out grunts and groans. I come back to myself to watch him fall from his high. I pet up to his arms and to his back. He tilts sideways, pulling me with him. We fall to our side, him bringing me close with safe arms.

"Doing alright," I ask as I pet his chest. His eyes are closed and his lips parted. He is still trying to catch his breath. He bucks his hips once more before he pulls out. Our combined fluids dribble onto my thigh with a tickling sort of feeling.

"I need a moment," he answers. I chuckle before cuddling into his side. He wraps his arms around me more snugly, resting my head under his with a content hum.

We sit there in the dirt for a while, just holding each other and relishing in the post-sex glow. Soon we settle on our backs and look at the full sky. The time allowing the stars to come out to give us a beautiful view. He pets my shoulder with his thumb as I give a quick kiss to his chest. we both try to fight sleep.

I at some point I fall asleep in his arms during the night, not waking till sometime later when he lays me in a bed. I look around confused at the new environment. Seeing a wardrobe and a large chair in the room.

"Go back to sleep," I hear Azhug grumble from behind me. I turn in his hold and look up at his closed eyes.

"where are we," I mumble as I too shut my eyes.

"My place," he softly answers. I hum before falling asleep with him. Safe in my mate's arms to begin the rest of our lives together.

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Love some orcs. <3

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#comforting #Orc boyfriend #Orc #Enigma-IM #monster lover #monster boyfriend #exophilia #Azhug #Emma x Azhug #part 2

[mileyjassie]

"COMPASS"

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Female reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: You found an old compass on your grandma's house and that will take you in only one and inevitable direction. On the way to him, your soulmate.

Word count: 2,4K

Author's note: If you ever think that this imagine is strange and maybe it doesn't make sense ... maybe it doesn't, forget it and english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes

You approached the chalet while the family was together inside talking about the news, you went to the bench behind the house, looking at the backyard which gave you a good look at the woods.

You opened the chest next to the bench, curious about the trinkets you would find inside, seeing some rag dolls, some empty boxes, ropes and a old compass that caught your attention.

You sat on the floor looking at that old, dusty compass, with a rusty chain hanging along and got up walking out of the house towards the backyard, however, the compass was broken, you knew it because it did not point to the north since the north was behind you.

You thought it was pointing to the south, but after you entered the woods and walked south the compass pointed to the east, which only increased your curiosity. What did the compass was looking for?

You were afraid of getting lost but memorized the path well, besides that the place was a open forest anyway, being easy to find the way back home.

You walked a little more, going down the hill while watching those thin trees cover the path. The compass continued to guide you to an unknown place, making you walk to a small cabin in the middle of that forest, already far from the house.

You heard someone humming, his voice was pretty, which made you stop a little while to listen before opening the door and seeing him sitting on the floor, working on a machine full of grease, like his no longer white gloves, his silver hair totally tangled and up with those weird round aviator glasses. His white blouse was smeared with grease and was dirty like his jacket, which you thought was originally green in color. Not even his pants were of a not too thick fabric, but you thought his brown suspenders cute.

Then you stopped, still deciding to knock on the door or wait for him to notice you, but he didn't seem to feel the presence of anyone there. He hummed, fiddling with his screwdriver on that strange engine, running his wrist across his face.

He smiled, clapping his hands to dust off and turned to look for something, eventually looking at you.

The boy lifted his aviator goggles, looking at you with a surprised face, although he didn't look wary.

— Visits? — Asked smiling.  — Amazing! This is almost impossible to happen, no one ever comes here. — He got up, hitting his pants and coming with his hand stretched out to you, he looked like a crazy scientist. — Oh! I'm sorry, I'm dirty. — He laughed, running to the other side of the room, washing his hands in a sink, coming back with his hand outstretched again. — I'm Soonyoung.

— Hello, Soon...young. — You took his hand, letting go and looking at the place. — I'm sorry to bother you, I was passing by... Do you live here?

— Yes. I live in the back, actually. Up front is where I work.

— What do you work on?

— Repairing things, creating, assembling, polishing, inventing, etc. — He smiled again, he seemed very communicative to someone who lived alone in the middle of the forest.

— Why do you live here? — You followed him with your gaze, while he went from one side to the other in that room, picking up tools and taking them to a table.

— Why wouldn't I live here? — Smiled confused.  — It's very quiet, without the noise of the city. — He turned, putting his hand on his waist. — Did you know it's good to wake up with a squirrel in the window? The animals are very friendly. — He frowned. — Except bears.

— Are there bears here? — You asked impressed.

Soonyoung stared at you, placing a mug full of pencils slowly on the table, coming over to you, head tilted to the side.

— Yes... and you know what?... — You took a few steps back as he approached. — They are huge, have sharp fangs and will reach you in a minute.  — He smiled widely, this time not very friendly. — You can't even breathe and when he reaches you he doesn't leave a piece behind. — Tumbled his head, reducing the smile, but still staring at you.

You frowned and took a few steps out of the cabin, he walked to the door and stopped, watching you go.

— Ahn... it was nice to meet you but ... I have to go, see you around. — You hurried, looking back.

— Don't miss the compass! — He waved with a soft smile, which made him more strange in that situation. — It is beautiful!

You ran back home.

The next day you went to stay with your family, but not for long, just enough before they left for the city and you stayed at home with only your grandmother. You went to help her with the plantation, removing some carrots and putting them in the basket she was holding.

— I'm going inside to get the watering can.

— Ok, grandma.

You went back to picking the carrots listening to a whistle, you looked back and saw no one, then looking back ahead and catching the boy standing on the roof.

— I love carrots. — He laughed, lifting the big aviator glasses off his face. — Didn't you see any bears last night?

— What are you doing up there? — You narrowed your eyes because of the light, getting nervous when you saw your grandmother coming back.

— I'm back. — She turned to the roof, seeing Soonyoung. — Hoshi, my son, are you here yet?

— Yes, ma'am.  — He took the hammer out of his tool belt. — I'll fix this roof soon. — He lowered his glasses to his neck and winked to you, turning and bending down to start hammering.

You turned confused to your grandmother, she smiled with the index finger up.

— Did he winked at you?

— I guess so.

She smiled while looking at your face, you took the watering can before taking one last look at the silver-haired boy who had a little smirk.

— I feel like I'm in danger, grandma. — She laughed and came to help you.

Your grandma came back inside to make lunch after some time, leaving you alone with Soonyoung.

— Are you on vacation with your family or something? — He cleaned his hands after he got off the roof.

— Yes. — You sat on the bench, he came and leaned in the column of the house.

— Why so quiet? — He smirked. — Are you afraid of me? — He crossed his arms.

— It's almost that. — You narrowed your eyes.

— Were you afraid of what I said about bears? — He click his tongue, tilting his head. — It's a lie, you know?

— I thought it was... — You continued with narrowed eyes and crossed arms.

— I know I'm weird from your point of view, okay?  You don't have to look at me like that. — He looked back at you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it you knew he wasn't angry.

— Sorry. And you're not weird ... — He raised an eyebrow.  — Just a little. — You smiled crooked.

— It's ok. Girls really think I'm weird.

— Really? — You lifted your head.

— Really.  — He nodded. — So far, yes. — He looked at nothing, just thinking. — In that way you can't meet new people. — He turned to you. — I tried with you too, but I couldn't resist talking about the bears. — He laughed, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

You frowned, then looked back at him.

— And what about boys?

— Boys are also not very nice. — He pouted. — I try to find a nice friend or a lover. — He looked at you. — You know, it's age, hormones. — He moved his hands again while he spoke. — But they are afraid, I think.  And the guys here tend to be bullying, so I prefer to keep my distance ... Those over there have the habit to call me a crazy scientist. — He pointed to the fence, on the other side there were three kids hiding looking at us, then they ran away. — They usually spy on me, it's a little tiring. I don't look like a mad scientist, do I?

You stopped for a while, looking at him.

— You are weird, and quite strange and different.  — He looked at you with a bored face. — I like what's different. — You kept looking but he didn't answer anything, just looked at you a little more and turned to look at the yard.

(...)

It was at night, you was sitting on the bed, looking at the compass in your hands, you wiped it with a cloth to clean it, it was beautiful but you couldn't remove the rusty marks.

It pointed to your desk, then ran to the side, until it stopped at you.

— Why are you pointing at me? — You hit you nail on it, then turned with the noise in the window behind your body. — Soonyoung?! — You asked in surprise.

He was simply crushing his face on the window glass, waving at you. You made a discontent expression seeing he frowning in annoy.

— What are you doing here? — You crawled to the window, sitting down. He smiled and pointed at you to open it. — I will not open! Are you crazy? — He looked at you angrily in a way too cute for your taste, hitting the glass, you were scared by this because you didn't wanted your family to wake up, so you opened the window.

— I do not have friends. — He said when throwing himself from the window to the bed.

— I'm just in my pajamas, dude! — You complained, he looked at you and you feel like you wanted to punch him.

— Don't be ashamed of it. It's just a sweater. — He waved his hand for you to don't care about it, shrugging. — I'm also in my pajamas. — He opened his arms, you looked him up and down.

— Shorts and old shirt?... — You raised an eyebrow, he agreed.

— This is my pajamas.

— Your hair is down ... — You whispered, staring at his hairstyle.

— Ah. — He looked up as if he could see his hair, pulling it up to the original hairstyle you knew.

— No. — You complained sadly, putting his hair down again. He watched you, opening his eyes wide, opening and closing his mouth as he didn't knew what to say.

— Wow, so close.  — He looked at your eyes and got closer, which made you move away.

— You're embarrassing me, boy.

— Oh sorry. — He scratched his neck, this time he was the one who was embarrassed and that made you more relaxed.

— It's different to see you like this.

— How? — He raised his eyebrow, smirking. — Clean?

You did not answer.

— You said you like the different.

— ...I like. Yeah. — You commented low, he stretched close smiling near your face.

— You said that to me before. — He tumbled his head, for sure was having fun with it. — Too close?

— Very much. — You putted a hand on his shoulder to push him away, but he pushed you to lie on the bed, watching you over the top and that took you by surprise.

— If you were afraid of me, you wouldn't have let me in.

— What are you doing? — You realized only at that moment that you were holding your breath.

— Do you like me? — He smiled, a smile not very friendly, but anxious.

— No!

— You said you like the different, I'm different.  You were saying that to me, weren't you? — He waited for you to say something, but you didn't say it.

He looked at you and tossed his hair up, you looked back at him and pressed your lips together, fixing his hair down. He smiled.

— You look crazy.

— I never did this before. — He smiled shyly. — Maybe I'll be arrested. — Sighed, lowering himself to your face, you held his face and pushed him up.

— Don't kiss me.

— I'm so sorry. Too soon? — He rubbed his hand over his nose.

— Too soon for what? What do you think is going on here? I didn't say I like you.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took your wrist, pointing at the compass.

— That's not what the compass says.

— What do you mean? — You frowned. He took the compass from your hand and smiled as he looked at it, looking up at you again.

— What a coincidence. — He showed the compass. — For me it points to you. — You frowned again, don't understand. — Your grandma didn't tell you, did she?

— Tell what? — He smiled without showing his teeth, bringing his face closer to yours. — Stop doing that!

— The compass points to the person you love. — He held your chin and stole a peck.

He lets you while laughing, then you started hitting him.

— What bullshit is this? — You hit his chest, he got up and held your wrists.

— Bullshit? — He laughed loud. — Why did it take you to my cabin then? — He put the compass in your hand and got up, jumping out of bed and walking around the room. — Where does it point?

— To you. — You looked at the compass. He jumped back onto the bed, taking the compass and stretching his arm, but wherever he pointed it, it turned to you.

— Cool, huh? — He smiled and looked at the compass. — Your grandmother showed me this a while ago, I followed the path of this compass but it never took me anywhere, it just pointed in the same direction and it had no end. — He turned. — It was like this because you weren't here. — Gave you the compass back. — So you found it and went to...

— The cabin.

— It was good to wait for you. — He leaned on one arm, laying his head on his shoulder. — My kiss is now forgiven?

— No, it's not.

— But did you like it?...

— Yeah...I like it.

He came over and you pushed his face again, looking back at the compass a little embarrassed.

— I don't even know how to react to that.

— Stop looking at that compass. — He took it from your hand and put it on the bed. — Whoever you need is already here, no more searching. — He kissed your chin, you felt a shiver and this time you didn't want to refuse.

— I don't even know you well, you're practically a stranger...

Soonyoung tossed his hair up, making a frizzy tuft, you watched and let out a little laugh, combing his hair down with your fingers. He smiled wide.

— I'm your stranger now.

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #svt #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen imagines #kwon soonyoung #kwon hoshi #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung x you #soonyoung x y/n #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n #hoshi fluff #hoshi

[bumblybeebounce]

Touching Beneath

So basically I probably haven’t actually written a damn thing in over a decade so this is part experiment part de-rusting? I don’t even fucking know. Sort of inspired to try my hand by reading stuff by @rzrcrst and @tarrevizslas so apologies for tossing this on your respective doorsteps :’D

Rating: NC-17 just to be safe

Pairing: Mando x Female Reader

Warnings: Sexual imagery, swearing.

(I’m sorry if I missed something, first time posting a fic on Tumblr ._.)

(And no cool gif I don’t know how to do that yet aaaaa I’ll crawl into my hole now)

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The light streaks of hyperspace travel looked pretty on her, Din thought vaguely before squashing it. They always had, the thought returned almost instantly, and he fought the urge to shift on the pilot seat.

He wasn't even sure how it got to this point, the preceding moments feeling strangely fuzzed over and irrelevant. The bounty was secured in a slab of carbonite, the Crest is already almost half of the way to the next bounty’s location, the Child was dozing in his closed pram and she...

She had been worried. About him. There really was no need, the mark's punch to his helmet and the stray blaster shot to his chest plate had been nothing, barely felt before he had clocked the target and shot the other one, respectively. There was no need to worry about him, but at the same time, maybe the punch to his head had affected him more than he thought because he was failing to come up with any other explanation why he had allowed her to get so close that she was standing between his legs, one knee resting on his thigh and a careful hand on the spot on his helmet had been hit.

Din's hands tightened their grip on the armrests of the chair as her other hand came up to the other side of his helmet and the usual instinct of grabbing a hold of the hands and pushing them away was only half there, slight rippling along the muscles of his arms under his clothes and beskar. His eyes, behind his visor, observed hers as they flitted along the surface of his helmet. He swallowed and wondered if she could hear his sped-up breathing. He sure could.

"... Beautiful craftmanship." She muttered, almost in awe as her fingers slid along the surface of the beskar, nails scratching along the surface. She truly looked like she was caught up in admiring the helmet, and his breathing suddenly hitched and Din swore he could almost feel the ghostly sensation of her nails and fingers over his cheeks. Maybe it was the sound combined with the atmosphere, but there were pleasant tingles over the skin of his cheek and bubbling up at the base of his spine, restless and almost like a living breathing thing, growing before receding and blooming up again, a bit bigger this time.

One hand slid a bit more down, along the divots of the helmet, slipped off, ghosted the fabric along his shoulder before delicately resting on a pauldron. Her head turned to look at it as she continued to feel the surface. The other hand slid down softly, carefully, and touched the spot the stray bolt had hit on his chest plate, still lightly scorched. Din drew in a deep breath through his nose, keeping his torso as still as possible while his stomach tensed, hoping the helmet didn't amplify the sound and... He wasn't sure what. Break the moment? Snap her out of it? Did he want that?

He should turn in his chair now, before the white noise in his head got worse. He should.

He didn't.

"Were they made by the same person?" Her head turned towards the scorchmark now as the hand on his shoulder slid along the surface of the pauldron, the question coming out almost absent-mindedly. The little skittering sparks of electricity moved across the skin of his chest now, under the beskar she was touching. He couldn't see it, not without tilting his head down and making it obvious, but even with the knowledge that her skin was separated from his by metal that could withstand almost anything, and several layers of cloth, it was almost as if she had reached through and caressed him directly, lovingly, with the same wonderment he was sure she was gazing at the soot coming off the plate and onto her fingertips.

"... Yes." The answer came after a beat, like Din forgot for a moment anything had been asked, his voice was strangled and the word thick on his tongue, slightly breathless and quieter than he meant to. She hummed in acknowledgment. "The Armorer." He continued involuntarily, slightly confused because he damn sure did not plan on expanding on that answer. He usually didn't, why was this different? "In the covert." Where else would there be a Mandalorian Armorer, part of his brain berated him in a voice that wasn't terribly unlike Paz’s voice when he had remarked how lonely Din's single braincell must feel and he swallowed thickly.

But it wasn't until her other hand also touched his breastplate that his spine stiffened, his stomach and thigh muscles pulled tight and the blasted tingles exploded up to his ribcage, and when her hands swept down he swore he felt it drag down his chest, along his ribs and more embarrassingly, felt it slip sweetly down his spine and right to his cock.

All at once the dam broke. All those images he'd conjured up in his head over the course of the relatively short partnership, the ones he'd buried so fast he had barely even been aware of them burst forward. What would she look like under him? Riding him? What would she sound like with his fingers inside her, touching the slick warmth of her pleasure and taking her higher? How would she taste with her legs clamped around his head and her hand tight in his hair, praying and pleading to any god that would listen, praying for him? Would she giggle when he drug his fingers along the stretchmarks on her thighs, when he kissed behind her ear? Would she go cross-eyed and cum loud on his cock, or with a breathless whimper of shock and surprise, would she submit with a blindfold over her eyes as he drank the moans from her mouth like kissing her was as much of a pleasure as fucking her deep?

The whole-body shudder travelled through him and he caught her hand in midair, halfway to the beskar on his thigh. She drew in a sharp breath and looked like she'd been startled awake from a trance at his touch. Her eyes moved to his visor as she withdrew the hand on his chest like it burned, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tried to find something to say.

"I-" Her throat worked in a large swallow and she drew another sharp breath. There was something in her gaze, something dangerously warm and inviting that he didn't trust his own voice. Didn't trust himself any further than simply releasing her wrist and clutching the handrest again as she drew up from her position and removed her knee from his thigh. "... I'm sorry." Another swallow as she lowered her head in apology. Din prayed the cockpit was dark enough that she couldn't see the effect she'd had on him.

In his haze he found enough brainpower to finally turn his chair around and offer a hoarse "It's fine." as he moved, hands rising to the controls through muscle memory. His companion cleared her throat and shifted towards the door.

"I'll go make food. The little one will wake up soon." Even when turned away her voice covered him like a blanket and sparks climbed his spine again. He offered no response, he simply couldn't, and she slipped deeper into the ship. When the door closed, he tugged off his helmet almost violently and drew in a gasping breath, unable to get enough oxygen in through the helmet. His shaking hand raked through his hair before covering his mouth. Din had tried, oh how he'd tried to ignore it, but it was uncomfortably clear now.

He was fucked.

And as his dick jumped in his pants over a stray thought of her on her knees, looking up at him with her tongue licking up with the same fervour and throughness he'd seen her lick the icy treat she'd had three planets ago, he closed his eyes and briefly, deliriously wondered if she felt the same maddening pull as he did.

#mando x reader #the mandolarian #one-shot #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) chaabar STAR WARS

He can’t breathe.

Tucked inside the darkest corner of the maintenance closet, 7567 knots his fingers into pale blond curls and pulls, trying to ground himself as he wheezes. Tears are hot on his bruised cheek, and it makes the swollen skin sting - Trainer Reau must have split the skin open with her gauntlet when she’d punched him - but, not ever the pain of the injury can distract the young cadet from his panic.

Eights is gone. Eights is gone, he’s been taken away for decommissioning, and 7567 is afraid. He’s next, he knows this, because he’s the only one left to take. He’s the mutant, the mistake, and he knows too well what the Longnecks do to mistakes. His entire was defective, all but one, and now there’s only two of them left. Keeli is perfect though, he has dark hair and dark eyes like every other clone, unlike the rest of their batch.

Keeli will be safe, but 7567 isn’t.

The scientists will be coming for him, 7567 knows, because trainer Reau had taken great amusement from telling him so. They’d come for him, and they’d take him to the labs - they’ll cut him open while he’s still awake to see where they went wrong. They’ll tie him down and make him watch as they put pieces of him into jars, and when they have all they need, they’d feed the rest of him to Trainer Vau’s striil. He’s so defective, they won’t even bother recycling him.

The memory of Trainer Reau’s voice has panic crawling up 7567’s throat like the bugs she had forced him to eat during survival training, with hundreds of legs and sharp pincers. He sobs harder, curling tighter around himself, breath catching in his throat and rattling in his chest. He itches and burns like there are things under his skin, and his nails dig into his scalp. He claws, scratches, and hiccups - anything to make the panic go away.

He doesn’t want to be decommissioned.

He can’t breathe - can’t get enough air past the bugs in his throat. He feels like his heart is clawing out of his chest, like his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He doesn’t want to be eaten, he doesn’t want to be taken away.

Panicking as desperately trying to muffle his cries, 7567 is still aware of the door to his little closet opening, casting light over his huddled form. He curls tighter in on himself, trying to hide away from the eyes watching him, burning against his skin. Then, the light is gone, plunging the closet into darkness once more, and 7567 shakes in fear, hyper aware of another person’s breathing invading the space he had hidden himself in.

“Hey,” A voice nearly identical to his own speaks, and despite himself, 7567 finds himself relaxing at the comforting sound. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m looking for a place to hide too.” 7567 sniffles, pushing his face further into his arms. “Can I come sit?”

He hiccups, then shrugs, despite wanting to tell the other boy to go away. He’s a mutant, if another cadet actually wants to be near him, then there’s not actually anything he can do about it. He’s the lowest of the low, barely even a clone, nothing he wants matters.

There’s a shuffle of fabric, and 7567 knows without needing to see that the other cadet had sat down just outside of his arm’s reach. “Priest is on a warpath.” The other boy says cheerfully, “But I think Baar’ur Gilamar is trying to stab him with a scalpel, so he won’t be looking for me for awhile - so I gave the medics the slip.” 7567’s breathing calms the longer the other cadet speaks, and he lets himself relax as his voice washes over him. “Alpha won’t be very happy with me -” 7567’s breath catches, “- he says I shouldn’t be running around with a head wound.”

Only CCs trained with the Alpha-class clones. There’s a CC hiding in the closet with him. He wasn’t supposed to be near the CCs; he’s a CT, they’re not supposed to be around him, they’re not supposed to talk to him unless it’s to give orders. Even worse - he’s a mutant CT sitting within touching distance of a CC.

“You’re a CC.” He whispers in horror, panic cresting once more. Trainer Reau would be so angry with him if she knew he was contaminating a CC.

“Well, yeah .” The other cadet says easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m CC-2224, who are you?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 7567 says numbly.

CC-2224 scoffs, “Why not?”

7567 shakes fearfully; Trainer Reau was going to punish him so bad for this. She’d probably send him right to the Longnecks - he’d prefer another beating to being sent to the scientists. “You’re a CC .” He says again, voice growing shrill, trying desperately to make this CC understand.

“Yeah.” CC-2224 repeats slowly, but there’s something calculating in his tone. “What about it?”

“I’m a CT .”

“So?” The Command-classer asks, suspicious now. “I talk to CTs all the time.”

“During training!” 7567 cries, tugging on his hair. “We’re not supposed to talk to you outside of training!”

“What?” CC-2224 sounds stunned, “Why? That’s ridiculous!”

7567 just starts sobbing again. He was going to be decommissioned for this, Trainer Reau was going to be so angry.

“Please don’t cry.” CC-2224 says in alarm, and a small hand lands on his arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“They’re gonna decommission me!” 7567 wails, and hands pull his fingers away from his hair before he can start pulling on the ugly curls again. He squirms, flinches, but CC-2224 holds tight, reeling him in so that he could wrap his arms around him. 7567 finds himself pressed against CC-2224’s chest, his head tucked under the other cadet’s chin. Hands rub his back, warm and grounding. At a loss and overwhelmed, his emotions shutting down, 7567 melts into CC-2224’s hug, heart racing and tears on his cheeks.

He doesn’t know what to do with this.

“It’s okay, vod’ika.” CC-2224 promises, voice hard. “I won’t let them decommission you.”

He wants to ask what CC-2224 could do to stop the Longnecks if they came to take him, but there’s determination in the other cadet’s voice. There’s a hard conviction to his words that chases away any doubt that he wouldn’t stop them. 7567 finds himself believing him; he wants to believe him.

“Let’s go find Alpha.” 2224 says, and, to his confusion, he gently headbutts 7567. “He’ll help.”

 

 

Alpha-17 doesn’t know what to think of him, that much is obvious to 7567 when CC-2224 drags him into his batch’s bunkroom. The older clone tears into 2224 for leaving the infirmary with his injury first, a massive thing hidden behind bacta bandages that hides one half of 2224’s face, and 7567 is shocked that the other cadet - he's barely taller than 7567, they’re probably in the same growth cycle, even if 2224 is a little older - could still move around and speak properly with the wound.

Then, once his cutting words for 2224 dry up, Alpha-17 turns to 7567, dark eyes studying him with growing interest. His attention is constantly pulled back to 7567’s hair, but there’s no disgust in his expression, something 7567 had grown accustomed to, but instead it’s calculation. “How old are you, cadet?”

7567 snaps to attention, “Three, sir!”

Alpha-17 hums, circling 7567 like a predator, and 7567 turns to always keep him in eyesight. He’d learned that much from Trainer Reau, and it seems to amuse the Alpha-classer. “Must be good, huh, vod’ika - to have made it this far with hair like that.”

“I’d like to think so.” 7567 says before he can stop himself, then kicks himself - Keeli was always saying he never thought before he spoke, and it got him into a lot of trouble with their trainers. But Alpha-17 doesn’t lash out, instead he snorts.

Next to him, 2224 grins, “What d’you think, Alpha?”

“I think you put yourself into danger you didn’t need, kid.” Alpha-17 says sharply, turning a glare on the smaller clone, but 2224 only lifts his chin stubbornly.

“He said they were going to decommission him.” CC-2224 retorts, “That’s not fair!”

This is the wrong thing to say.

“Life’s not fair, Kote!” Alpha-17 thunders.

The room goes quiet - there’s horror in 2224’s squadmates’ expressions, and agony in Alpha-17’s. 2224 himself just looks confused as the silence grows.

“Who’s Kote?” Once again, 7567’s tongue gets away with him, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He’s not supposed to ask questions.

“Doesn’t matter.” The older clone says harshly, and 7567 flinches. Alpha-17 stays tightly wound for a moment, before he lets out a rattling breath and forces himself to relax, his expression rearranging into a carefully neutral mask. “You have potential, kid.” He tells him, then glances at 2224 for a moment, “I’ll do what I can.” Alpha-17 grumbles, rubbing a hand aggressively through his short hair. “Now get out of my sight.”

7567 bolts.

 

(The next day, 7567 and Keeli report to their training room, but Trainer Reau is nowhere in sight. Instead, an older clone stands in front of them, arms crossed over his muscular chest and a sharp grin on his face. He's as tall as Alpha-17, and just as heavily muscled, and it almost hurts to look up at him; his dark hair is just a touch longer than regulation length, and there's a deep scar scored across the bridge of his nose, more visible scars peeking out from his training reds. He had seen fights, and he'd walked away from them in one piece.

“Hey there, verd’ike.” The clone says, voice darkly amused. “A-77 at your service - or Fordo. But you can call me Captain, or Sir.” His smile grows wider, more dangerous, and 7567 swallows nervously, Keeli shifting awkwardly next to him. “You answer to me now.”)

#cole writes #fanfiction #star wars #whumptober 2020 #no.18 panic at the disco #commander cody #captain rex #alpha-17 #alpha 17 #captain fordo #Emperor Cody AU