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swtki · 3 years

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Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH.

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”.

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own.

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case.

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready.

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him.

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him.

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.”

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it.

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex.

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress.

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window.

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn.

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it.

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets.

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-”

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-”

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready.

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader smut #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #robert pattinson smut #robert pattinson #twilight shitpost #twilight headcanon #headcannons twilight #twilight fanfic #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfic #carslile cullen #esme cullen

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

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pretty face on a pretty neck | b.b.

summary: they aren’t fucking dating. not fucking friends, either. no, bucky just fucks romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works. and sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

WARNINGS: a tiny bit of smut (18+), fingering, choking, swearing, drinking, brief mentions of cheating, bucky’s just really fucking jealous, mentions of a shitty relationship and self-doubt from it, the dark knight spoilers, fluffy end!! pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader, brief steve rogers x fem!reader lmaoo word count: 5.5k

a/n: this is a cute lil piece written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan! my prompt was “you called me, remember?” inspired by kiwi by harry styles.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

You weave through the crowd, glistening like some glazed dessert that he can’t wait to get his mouth on. Your lips are shining with a swipe of that sweet lipgloss he loves to suck off and you’re wearing that black dress.

The black dress. Shorter than short, showing every inch of skin yet not enough.

You toss your head back, exposing that neck that he loves to bite to Steve who grins, glad his joke landed. Stifling a scowl, Bucky grabs his scotch and throws it back, desperate not to grab you and throw you into a stall just to mark you up as his.

You had made him promise, after all. No socialization outside their little nightcap sessions that often lead to… well, Bucky’s game for anything really.

A cigarette is pinched between your lips and Steve helps you light it with a flick of his lighter, the burning embers glowing in the dark, seedy bar. Leaning on the bar counter, you talk to Sam wiping down his station and he nods, eyes dragging over your face and Bucky cannot tear his gaze away as Sam pours you three shots of vodka. You blow out a lungful of smoke, cigarette pinched between two fingers before glancing at Steve and making some sort of bet, based on the way your lips curl.

They go down like water, dripping down your chin and you laugh when Steve wipes it off your collarbones before he grabs your chin and smashes his lips against yours. You immediately reciprocate, mouth opening as he bends you over the bar, his hair golden and his hand trailing up your thigh.

“Fucker,” Bucky mutters, finally managing to rip his gaze away. A heat blazes through his stomach.

Stupid fucking party for damn Romanoff’s birthday. Sometimes he hates being some of the oldest friends that redhead knows. It makes him feel creepy, wading through a sea of college students that are only one or two years younger than him. Steve himself is finishing his last year, so he’s sure he doesn’t share Bucky’s plight of feeling old.

He wishes he could just approach you and ask to leave, pin you against the wall of his apartment, take you like he knows Steve’s going to later, but he can’t.

You aren’t fucking dating. Not fucking friends, either.

No, Bucky just fucks Romanoff’s best friend until she’s fucking stupid, begging for it, and leaves in the morning because that’s how the universe fucking works.

And sometimes, he wishes it didn’t work that way.

“Not enjoying yourself, James?” Birthday Girl Romanoff asks, appearing at his shoulder and he turns to her, shifting in his seat.

“Steve’s too busy chatting up your friend for me to do anything,” he replies, keeping his tone light and Romanoff glances at where Steve’s made his way to kissing up your neck, your fingers carded through his hair.

“Give him a break,” Romanoff says. “They both need to get laid.”

“You don’t think she’s getting laid?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Every fucking guy I’ve met has said they wanted to get with her at least once.”

“Sounding a bit jealous over someone you claim to hate, James,” the redhead teases, sipping on her mojito with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just saying. All the boys were saying they were into it.”

“And you?”

“She’s… a brat.”

“Seems to me that you’re into that,” she hums, leaning on his shoulder. “Honestly, it would’ve been better if you two met before her and her stupid boyfriend did. Ever since she moved in with Rumlow…” The woman trails off and Bucky absently fills in the blanks, she’s faked every single orgasm she’s had with him. “I don’t know. He’s a fucking prick. Doesn’t treat her like she deserves.”

“Does he—“

“No. Just… never a priority, is she? Why else is she here alone?” Natasha pauses, as if debating how much to tell him, then adds, “Then he gets all pissy about where she’s been. On his beck and call, isn’t she?”

“Asshole,” Bucky replies distantly. Steve has his hand basically up your dress and he watches as your legs pull him closer, your lips running along the shell of his ear. “You’re endorsing your best friend cheating on her boyfriend, you know, when we could just be beating him up”

“Hey. She said she was going to break up with him. I can’t make those choices up for her and I’m not about to land any of my friends in jail trying to be my ride or dies.” Romanoff shrugs, glancing at her friend. “Besides, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does she? It’s not like she can move into my dorm or move back into her parents across the country.” Bucky watches as you hook your legs around Steve’s waist and he hoists you into his arms, disappearing into the crowd.

By the direction, Bucky can guess the destination and some distant part of his head whispers, She could move in with me.

“Might want to avoid the bathrooms for a while,” he comments and Romanoff snorts, the ice crackling by her straw as she stirs her drained glass.

“I’m going to go get laid, too,” she replies frankly. “Don’t stay brooding in the corner, Barnesy-bear. Your face is one worthy of being sat on.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the redhead slips into the crowd and Bucky gets up, plucking his jacket and leaving the bar. His pants are tight with the thought of your mouth and the sound of your gasping breaths echoing in his ear. The feeling of your fingers scratching down his back makes him roll his shoulders back as he flags a cab.

So what if you’re fucking Steve?

It’s not like he’s exclusive with you.

He can’t fault his best friend for having excellent fucking taste.

As he enters the cab and tells the driver his address, he wonders how the fuck someone like Rumlow snagged the title as your boyfriend when there are so many other options.

Steve being one, but he’s still living on-campus.

Bucky doesn’t want to say it, but maybe he, with his own apartment and steady job and intimate knowledge of your desires and interests and needs, is the other.

It’s two weeks later when he finally sees you again, at Romanoff’s birthday function at the beach. Something with closer friends, in broad daylight at a beach house Romanoff’s parents own. She and Sam are already there by the time Bucky gets there, unpacking in rooms for a weekend stay.

“Take any room you like,” Romanoff calls from upstairs and Bucky does so, choosing one of the few rooms on the main floor just as another figure walks in.

“I’m here, Nat!” Your voice echoes against wooden walls as Bucky pokes his head out of his room to see you there. He doesn’t know whether he should feel guilty or not that he’s glad Steve hasn’t sated your hunger when you show up alone, shorts riding up your thighs and a t-shirt that is so sheer it does nothing to conceal the bikini top you wear beneath it. “I’m taking my usual room.”

“Fine with me!”

With that, you walk down the hall, eyes meandering over the living room and kitchen. Bucky’s throat closes up when you walk past the stairs to stop at his room and you smirk all saccharine at him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

He scans your face for a moment. “You came. Thought you’d still be sucking Steve’s face off like you were back at the bar. Or… sucking his dick. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Well, that was a one-off thing. Heat of the moment,” you dismiss, leaning against his door frame and he hates the way you look against the wood. Makes something in him stir, makes the blood run hot and his mind focus on one image in particular.

“What’d your boyfriend say when he saw your neck fucking marked up?” he asks, uncaring of the thin ice he stands upon. You frown, arms crossing.

“I was careful,” you reply tightly, “and I didn’t let him leave any marks.”

Bucky can’t help the small flash of satisfaction at hearing that. “You’re not careful with me. I like seeing your neck tatted up with it,” he comments, his hand twitching to wrap around your throat as he lifts his finger to trace the soft, pulsing vein along your neck. You tilt your chin up, eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’m not yours, Barnes.”

“What you say tells me differently, princess.” Dropping his hand to grab your wrist, he pulls you into his room and slams the door shut, pinning you against it with a harsh push. You exhale sharply, the breath pushing out of your lungs as your bags drop with a disant thump. His senses zero in on everything about you, the light scent of the sunblock smeared into your skin, the cotton twisting beneath his fist as his other hand finds your neck on its own accord. “You’ve been distant lately, kitten.”

He can feel your racing pulse against his palm as you smirk, hands wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. Every inch of his skin is pressed against yours as you hike a leg up onto his hip. His hand at your waist immediately goes to cup it and you loop your arms around his neck innocently.

“I’ve had a lot of work to do. Brock and I…” You let out a soft hum as if to ponder but he knows it’s just to piss him off, “spent some time alone. Romantic trip out of town. Then, I had other things to do.”

“Did you?” It’s not a question Bucky wants answered as you nod demurely, lips twisted into a smirk. He wants nothing more than to yank your shorts down, spin you around, and have you screaming his name as he takes you again and again. He’s been blue balled for two weeks and you haven’t answered any of his calls.

Now, he knows why.

“So, that stupid boyfriend of yours was with you, huh?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he leans in close. He can taste the vodka in your mouth still, the vodka he never got to taste two weeks before in a bar, along with something fruity. Your gum, maybe, or an orange that you sucked clean off its peel. “And then what? Did you hop off after you faked your way through a few nights with him and head for Steve’s? Hm?”

“Temper, temper, James,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. His entire body is alight, every nerve shooting sensations through his limbs as your fingers curl against the nap of his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous, yeah.” His hand on your thigh trails up and inward, sneaking past the hem of your shorts as you lower your leg to hook on his calf, pulling him infinitely closer. His dick is pressing against his swim shorts, completely obvious and painfully hard against your navel as he shifts his hips just enough to let his hand sneak further up your shorts. “Why would I be jealous?”

His fingers find the silky slip of your bikini bottom and brush over the junction of your hip, smirking at the tremble he can feel course through your body.

“You wanted me that night at the bar,” you whisper as he slowly trails deeper inward. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Who didn’t, hm?” He smirks when you turn your face away, biting your lip at his fingers dancing around a spot already slickening with anticipation. “C’mon, princess. You telling me you didn’t wear that black dress for me? Look at me.”

You refuse and he rubs his thumb into the side of your neck, dipping his head to bite at your collarbones.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers, lifting his head to see your defiant gaze meeting his. “Tell me the truth about the black dress.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you bite back softly, “to fuck me in.” His hand tightens, just barely around your neck and your eyes flutter shut. Oh, how badly he wants to ravage your lips, lock you in this room and just take you in every way you want…

“Trying to make me jealous, kitten?” he rasps as your hips roll against his dick and you bite your lip, chin tilting up as your nails dig into his skin. Because it worked.

“So what if I was?”

“Then, you’re going to have to pay for it.” He spins you around and moves to shove his shorts just past his hips. You let out a sharp exhale at the pressure of his hand against the back of his neck, your hands pressed flat against the door. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?”

His swim shorts fall and he tugs your shorts down just past your ass, tracing the smooth curve of it with an arrogant curve to his lip. His lips find your neck, nipping lightly before raising to your ear.

“I asked you a question.” His hand lands on your ass, kneading it with warm, familiar fingers and his words are a warning. In the silence, he can almost hear you rolling your eyes, struggling not to moan when he feathers smooth skin, tempts you with tiny brushes between the legs.

“You gonna keep talking, Barnes, or you gonna prove a point?”

His fingers hook on your bikini bottom, pulling the elastic away with an amused grin before letting it snap back against your skin.

“I don’t know. Are you gonna continue being a fucking brat?” He squeezes your neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you almost seem to melt against the door before he drags those bikini bottoms down too. Rolling his hips flush against your ass, he smirks when you shudder and try to thrust him in with a messy jerk back. “Aw, did you miss this?”

“Wouldn’t miss a thing about you,” you reply but it comes out strangled as his other hand wraps around your hip, travels down your navel. It wraps around your waist, keeps you tight against him as you smother his wrist between the door and your hips. When his fingers find your bud, you let out a soft sigh at the pressure he begins to rub into you and he smirks, biting the shell of your ear.

“C’mon, princess. You can admit it if you like,” he murmurs. Your fingers dig into the wood as you try to push yourself—in what direction, away from his hand, towards it, Bucky doesn’t know. He reaches farther down, fingers tracing through slick heat and he chuckles huskily against your skin, biting lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. “‘S that all for me?”

“Shut up,” you growl. Your eyes flash to him and he pushes you flush against the door, your head falling back against his shoulder as cock nestles itself between your cheeks. So close, not quite there. His hand on your neck travels forward, crooking inward and his fingers wrap around a silky neck from the front. He can feel every beat of your heart, the raspy whistle of your breathing. Lips falling to your exposed neck, Bucky sucks marks he knows are going to last if he doesn’t stop himself soon but two weeks has been two weeks too long— “Barnes.”

“Relax… it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper fuck.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Needy brat.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work at a languid pace inside you. He knows every nook and cranny, every angle that brings you euphoria and he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust, arrogant smile growing when you melt back onto his shoulder, lips slightly parted.

“Don’t have time for foreplay,” you finally manage to croak and you turn to look at him, eyes surprisingly clear for having his fingers in your soaking heat and working you up a steady incline.

“It’s the fucking beach, kitten. They won’t be in a rush to get anywhere.” Your lips are tantalizing up close and he chuckles, fingers pressing gently into your pulse. “How quiet can you be?”

“Try me,” you breathe, chest heavy and eyes filling with assured focus, “bitch.”

Challenge accepted.

Nudging your legs ever so lightly apart, he is about to push in. He can feel your heart beating through your back, a quick, racing drum and your breasts heave with every anticipating breath.

“James! Y/N! Wanna meet Steve at the beach?”

Natasha’s voice breaks the humid tension like a hot knife through butter, and your eyes fly open as if you’ve risen from a trance and he growls, not quite moving yet.

To say nothing raises suspicion.

He hates it here.

“Sure!” Bucky yells back right into your ear, much to your displeasure and he shrugs, trying to repress the smirk as his hand drops and playfully squeezes your breast. You return with a subtle nip to his jaw and he steps back. Your shoulders drop and you turn around, leaning against the door with a soft, condescending smile. Your eyes are blown with a mistiness and your thighs press together as he sucks his fingers clean. Your gaze narrows, he smirks with glee.

“What was that about not being in a rush to get anywhere?” you ask, dismissively sweeping your gaze up and down his body before grabbing your pants and pulling them up. His eyes follow the slow trail of the fabric and he sighs softly between parted lips. “Play one of those audios I know you’ve got on your phone. Can’t ever get enough of me, can you, soldier boy?”

“Don’t put yourself on a pedestal, princess.”

“I’m not.” You pick up your bags and open the door, letting cool sea wind sweep into the room that was cloudy with heat and lust. He can’t help the smile that digs into his cheeks despite how disappointed he is as you shrug innocently. You play the part so well. “It’s just the facts.”

Not for the first time, Bucky is left with the thought that Rumlow doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

It’s near the end of the month, the very last day. The thirty-first of May.

You broke up with your stupid boyfriend three days ago. He knows because he looked at your Instagram only to find all the pictures with him gone.

But he wasn’t stalking. He was just…

Curious.

Also, Natasha FaceTimed him and Steve, ranting all about it. So, he came upon this naturally.

Not stalking at all.

“Hey.” Bucky’s lying flat on his bed, naked and the sheets are too warm as he hears you pick up with a disgruntled sigh. “You awake?”

“Am now.” You don’t sound too heartbroken but your voice is a bit thicker than he remembers as you sniff. “What do you want?”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was crying.”

He arches an eyebrow at your blunt response but doesn’t continue that line of interrogation. “Where are you staying?”

“Why does it matter to you? What do you want?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, princess,” he replied dryly. “But if you’re on the streets, I can come pick you up.”

“I’m not on the streets,” you reply sharply in a way that makes Bucky doubt your words. “But fine. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Princess,” he begins but you cut him off.

“I just needa pack some things. See you in twenty.”

You hang up without another word. He lets his cellphone drop with a heavy sigh, sitting up and pulling on some boxers and some ratty old university hoodie.

It’s another fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the door and he moves from the kitchen to the door, abandoning the orange juice he poured to pass the time. Swinging open the door to reveal that pretty face, he smirks to hide the concerned expression threatening to overtake his face. You look like hell, heavy eye bags and a wariness that he’s not used to seeing on your bold face. You’ve got luggage by your legs and a backpack is strapped to you as you regard him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“You called me, remember?” you reply dryly. He steps aside, inviting you in. Walking in, toeing off your sneakers, and shedding your jacket, you let your backpack drop as Bucky pulls your luggage in. “Woke me up and everything.”

“Yeah, I bet I woke you up from your beauty sleep,” he snorts and you roll your eyes as his eyes trail over the dull skin of your shoulders, the limpness of your hair. He closes the door behind him, an unfamiliar tug pulling at his stomach. “Your boyfriend didn’t even give you time to find a new place?”

“No. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Just a guy you used to fuck on occassion who couldn’t even make you come,” he says sagely and you sigh, rolling your eyes again.

“Are you describing yourself?” The words make blue eyes flash to meet yours and you smirk at the dangerous warning glimmering in his irises. Cocking your head, you shrug and lean against his dining table. “So, what do you want?”

“Why do I ever call you here if it isn’t for fucking you, huh, princess?” he muses, but even he can’t find the reason anymore. Whatever libido he was housing had melted in the time between you hanging up and you arriving at his apartment. As you stand before him, his blue eyes flicker from your exhausted face to the way your body seems strung out and on high alert. He sighs, too. “I didn’t want you in some seedy motel where the locks don’t work and the concierge is probably on the registered sex offender’s list. That sound good enough for you?”

You smile, the only thing familiar about you, and it sends a wave of relief through him. “Being nice isn’t your colour, Barnes.”

“Go take a shower,” he retorts, plucking your bag from the floor by your feet and he notices you don’t protest when he grabs your jacket and throws it in the hamper. “Then, we’ll talk.”

“Fine.” You’re unnaturally obedient as you head silently for the bathroom and he brings your luggage to the living room, setting it by the couch and laying it flat. Unzipping it quickly, he grabs the clean clothes he can find right off the bat and goes into his room to put them on his bed so you can grab them as soon as you come out. You’re standing in his bathroom, shedding your tank top and he grabs some clean towels.

It’s a strangely intimate silence as he offers you the towels and you dip your head in thanks. He can see the beginnings of a bruise on your bicep and he reaches tenderly for it, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“Did he—” The anger comes unbridled, hot and heavy and dark, in his voice and you don’t even jerk out of his touch. You’re completely relaxed in his presence as you look at your reflection in the mirror, so unlike a few minutes before when you’d been a ball of tension and you shake your head. His thumb gently digs into your skin and he can feel the pulsing heat of it. It’s fresh. Not even a day old, probably.

“No. I was walking and it was dark. Guy was coming out of a cab and didn’t see me standing there. Got whacked by the door,” you assure, pulling your arm out of his loose hold. Unbuttoning your pants, you continue to undress as he stands there, eyebrows knitting together. The air is wrought with an energy he’s unfamiliar with and he withdraws but your hand reaches for his wrist. Wide eyes dart to your face and he’s shocked by the surprisingly soft smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Hungry?”

You let go of his wrist and his skin is tingling. He rubs at it absently as you nod, your strange smile ever present. “Starving.”

“I’ll whip you something to eat.”

As he’s stirring Kraft Dinner around in a bowl, he listens to the shower run and thinks.

Or doesn’t think.

Time seems to pass in such a strange way. He’s cooking for you and you’re in his shower and nothing about this is normal or something he’s used to, but it’s not something he hates.

The shower turns off just as he’s sliding the mac into a bowl and he pours you a glass of water before finishing his own abandoned cup of orange juice.

Your footfalls are light and you smell like his shampoo as you sit down at his kitchen island, clad in the clothes he laid out for you.

“It’s just some Kraft I had lying around,” he says uneasily, pushing the bowl towards you but you take it anyway with a shrug and a easygoing smile. You look more awake after the shower and colour has worked its way back into your lips. There’s new life in your eyes as you eat and Bucky, satisfied, heads for the couch just to watch whatever’s on until you’re done.

Everything seems so strange, mundane, almost… domestic as you eat, scroll your phone, and he watches The Dark Knight just because it’s on. He watches the movie blindly, his mind still going a mile a minute and his body unintentionally becoming attune to yours in a way he only knows with when he’s fucking you.

But now, he knows how you move, knows when you’re putting your bowl in the sink and knows when you’re walking towards him by the way his heart starts beating just a millisecond quicker, the gentle give of his couch as you sit down beside him. Your eyes burn into his cheek and he glances at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come here,” he allows, lifting his arm from the pillow and you scoot closer, pulling the pillow into your lap and hugging it tight. He rests his arm along the back of the couch. “You didn’t die of food poisoning. Pity.”

“You’d have to be truly something to fuck up Kraft Dinner, Barnes,” you reply dryly, smirking at him and he suppresses a snort as you tuck your knees up. “It was good. Although, I hope you’re not living off of that stuff.”

“I do take out every once in a while,” he says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a college student and I can cook better than you.”

“You’re one year younger than me. We’re not so different.”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky can’t help the amused smile edging its way onto his face as you fall into silence, watching the movie, too. One thing Bucky’s always liked about you, even if he didn’t like anything else, is that you share a lot of the same interests as him. They had whole rants on how terrible some movies were, or the disappointment that was some TV finales. It always made pillow talk a fun time, if they ever made it to that stage.

It was more often than not either of them would wake up before the other and just head out without a single word.

Bucky finds he likes your companionable silence more than he thought he would. Maybe he should’ve indulged pillowtalk a bit more. By the small, sated smile on your lips, he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

“You know,” you say after a while, “when I said at the beach house that you wanted me…” Your voice rouses Bucky from his trance of staring at the TV. The credits are rolling and he hadn’t even realized. So lost in his thoughts he was near the end, thinking about Rachel’s letter to Bruce and hyper aware of your every shift in your seat beside him, the movie seemed to pass by in a blink.

Something about the long lost melancholy of lost chances…

Bucky’s never been fucking sentimental, but even he can see the chance that Bruce Wayne really… really missed out on, and the blue-eyed man doesn’t want to be in that position ever. To do the right thing only to find out it’s too late. Because she died in the end, didn’t she? She died and he was alone even though he tried…

“What?”

“At the beach house,” you repeat. “When I basically told you that you wanted me…” you say with a roll of your eyes, “it was just teasing, foreplay.” Then, more seriously: “But I guess I was being like Two-Face. Double entendres, innuendos, all that.”

“You’re going to become a vengeful, homicidal DA?” he quips wryly and you huff in faux irritation, poking him lightly in the chest.

“No. God, use that brain inside that pretty little head of yours for once.”

“Aw, you called me pretty.”

“Barnes.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“Well, what I was saying… When I said you wanted me… God, this is stupid. Feel free to just punch me in the face after, but…”

“But?” Eyebrows knitting together, he looks at you and you pull the blanket up to your face, embarrassment telltale in the way you avert your eyes. He gently pushes the blanket down, muting the TV and waiting patiently. You look more alive that you did the first minute you walked into your apartment and you look like you want to bury yourself in the blankets but he’s not going anywhere and you stare at him, lips pressed into a flustered line. “I’m not going to punch you in the face. You can just tell me.”

“I guess… I just... I wanted to believe that you wanted me,” you state, shaking your head, “for me. Like some affirmation that there’s a possibility you could ever want me like that, and… I’m being dumb. I swear I’m not usually like this, all sentimental and shit, but it’s just I feel like shit and you don’t care about any of that and Brock… I broke up with him because I know he doesn’t love me even if he says he does and that I deserve better but I just… it gets to me, you know? It fucking gets to me when I’m all alone and now I am alone and if he didn’t put me first... maybe it’s because I’m not wanted.”

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, reaching for your hands and you surrender to him easily as he cranes his head to keep your eye contact despite you ducking your head. “I don’t judge you for any of that shit and that’s wrong. He’s a fucking prick, and people want you here. Romanoff, Steve, Sam…” Me.

“I know. I know and I just… I’m scared because I have nowhere to go. And, you’re always honest with me, and just slap me in the face because… I can’t believe I’m asking you this what if… what if everyone’s gonna treat me like Brock did? What if no one will ever really want me?

There’s a beat.

Then, two.

He’s squeezing your hands so hard he’s surprised you haven’t drawn away but then he realizes your fingers are clutching onto him even tighter, his bones wincing as you crush his digits.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid—”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky shakes his head and you—fourth year college student and someone he shouldn’t be attached to because you two are so different but he is because you two are so alike—are something else. No one has gotten under his skin like you have.

You’re not fucking stupid. Because I do want you. In a way. In more than one way. And you are irritating and burn so fucking bright and you’re fucking bold, but—

I want you.

He doesn’t say any of that.

And it’s complicated, but that’s how the universe fucking works.

“You’re free to stay here for however long you need to,” he tells you quietly, seriously. “I don’t care how long it is, and there are no catches. Just… just don’t give that fucker another chance, yeah? ‘Cause there’s always gonna be someone who wants you, kitten. Someone who’ll treat you right.”

You smile faintly, knees tucked to your chest and hair still a bit damp from your shower. You’re warm, soft, with no cigarette smoke clouding your silhouette and no glossy sheen of alcohol. You look like you in a way Bucky’s never known before.

He thinks this beats you in any kind of black dress.

“Okay,” you accept and you lean over first to kiss him. It’s a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, an innocent, flitting thing, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He eases against the couch and you lean against his chest, cuddling close against him. His arm falls around your shoulders, holding you tight to him and you melt against him just like he does around you.

For a moment, Bucky wonders how the fuck he got into this situation.

Then again, he’s not complaining.

The view is fucking stellar.

6K notes · View notes

tricktster · 5 years

Text

the twilight series suddenly makes 100% more sense if you read them under a specific premise that, i contend, is heavily supported by the text:

Much like Amy’s diary in Gone Girl, the books in the Twilight Saga are verbatim reproductions of in-universe diary entries carefully and deliberately created and curated by badass unreliable narrator Bella Swan as a means to achieve immortality.

Prerequisite assumptions:

1) Bella actively and persistently wants to become a vampire, both diagetically and (I contend) non-diagetically. The average vampire novel format often fails to capture realistic human behavior in one highly specific area: the protagonists are frequently mortals who grapple with the choice of whether to become a vampire. This is stupid, because being a vampire would obviously be dope as hell; particularly in the Twilight Universe, where vampires are not required to take a human life to survive, and indeed, have the capacity to live full and rewarding lives while integrated* into the human community.

(*integrated-ish; see Assumption 6)

2. There are too many coincidences for Bella to have encountered the Cullens by sheer chance, only to be the ONE person that Edward can’t live without (due largely to the novelty factor of not being able to read her ding-dang thoughts.)

3. Diagetically, the Volturi don’t even know Bella’s psyonic gifts until New Moon, but we also know that the Volturi scour the globe for recruits to enlist into the protection of their governing body.

4. Nobody wants to be a voiceless cog in a bureaucracy.

5. Nobody, and especially nobody in high school, wants to be a high school student forever.

6. Vampires in twilight are, as a group, cartoonishly terrible at disguising their true nature.

7. Forks is a backwater town approximately 3.5 hours away from the biotech hub of Seattle.

7. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney can eat my farts and they deserve to be preserved in this snapshot of an innocent author’s mind slowly unraveling.

Proposed timeline:

In 1993, there is a key system meltdown at a improvised biohacking startup in Seattle, rendering all innovative genetic modification experiments into a puddle of brown sludge that nobody can figure out how to dispose of per Federal regs, since they don’t even know what it is.

The broke founder of the startup, who for the purposes of this timeline I will call Jeff Bezos because that’s who it was, eventually grows tired of all the discussion about what to do, and just pops it in a barrel, drives a few hours out of town, and dumps it in a pond.

Bella Swan, a small child, is hanging out at a park with her family friend Jacob Black (and a ton of his friends) when they all decide to wade in a slightly murky pond. Thereafter, they are transformed.

Bella grows up as a normal, highly powerful mutant with a +20 to deception checks and wisdom saves. She lives in Arizona, but up until 2002, summers in Forks. While in Forks, she picks up on the local lore about a family of vampires who don’t eat people.

Because Forks (population: 17 + Charlie’s mustache) is boring, Bella bones up on the only interesting thing about it, i.e. Vampire Hometown baybeeeee.

In 2000, George W. Bush gets elected president, and his evangelical politics and general bumbling ineptitude informs Bella’s opinions on authoritative governmental entities.

In 2001, the Cullens make their intention to move back to Forks known, but they take a while because they need to pack all their stupid graduation hats and volvos, etc.

Later in 2001, a psychic Volturi scout rolls through Forks to ensure that nobody within living memory recalls the Cullens, and notices an anomaly in the psychic field.

The scout goes to confront Bella about joining the Volturi, and Bella immediately clocks him as a vampire, because vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human. This leaves the scout in a bind: she’s too valuable to kill, but she’s a pre-teen, and therefore too young to be transformed per Volturi authority.

The scout warns her he’ll have to kill her if she discusses the existence of vampires with any human. He then tells her he’ll be back in five years, and begins to sweet talk her on how good life will be when she’s a vampire, beautiful, immortal, powerful, etc. Bella asks if she has to kill, and dude says “nah, actually there’s a bunch of vegetarian vampires who are moving back here soon. Fucking nerds, but otherwise they’re doing well.” Bella is all about becoming a vampire, because Bella is a rational actor.

Bella moves to Arizona, and as the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are unjustifiedly initiated, she recognizes that while she DOES want to be a vampire, she does NOT want to be a foot soldier in any war that she can’t support. She needs a plan.

In 2004, Bella is watching her step-dad’s minor league baseball game when it occurs to her. On her own, she’s a target for the Volturi, but if she had some people to watch her back, she might be okay. Of course, nobody fucks with the Volturi on behalf of some rando human. She’ll need to con her way into a coven who’ll have her back and also give her that +10 to constitution via vampiric transformation, which she desperately wants because she’s a rational actor. And where are the non-volturi vampires that might have her back? Fucking Forks.

Bella moves to Forks in 2004, and upon seeing the Cullens, she immediately clocks them as vampires even though they left their “we’re all vampires” booty shorts at home, because, as previously discussed, vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human.

Bella notes that all the vampires but one are paired off in heterosexual bliss, and takes note of the straggler as a potential vehicle to vampyrdom.

Bella figures out that Eddie can read everyone’s mind but hers, because Edward Cullen fucking sucks at looking/acting like a human who can’t read minds. Bella further observes that Eddie has a huge undead boner for her.

She’s found her mark. Now she just needs to convince him that she’s better off as part of the coven than on her own. Problem: Eddie’s a self-pitying insufferably guilt-striken perpetual adolescent who keeps himself busy by feeling sorry for himself because he’s a vampire, angst angst angst etc etc. Also, I think he’s Catholic, so add some more guilt in. She’ll have to win him over by convincing him that they’re destined to be soulmates.

What does a vampire used to having complete insight into everyone’s mind but his crush’s want? A method to know what she really thinks of him. Bella begins writing a “diary” knowing that there’s no way in hell Eddie won’t sneak in and read it. So she Gone Girls it, and begins to lay a trap to lure him in. That first diary? Twilight.

This was just in the movie but a stoner chases her around with a worm on a stick. Nothing to do with this theory, I just like that part of the movie. Where’s my spinoff about that guy?

Eddie won’t give Bella what she wants (eternal life) by the end of book 1, even though she asks him to EXTREMELY POLITELY. Time to hit the diary with some more promises of undying love.

Bella reconnects with her old friend Jacob and the rest of the Mutated By Jeff Bezos Boys. Alas, they cannot turn her into a physically powerful sexy immortal with a bite, so she’s still stuck with plan A) win over a whole family of vampires with big Mormon energy. It’s the long con.

Edward’s angst abruptly takes a swing towards terminal. He’s absolutely your classic sadboy, perhaps because Bella now has one (1) friend that he knows about.

When Eddie begins to drift away on account of Angst, Bella conjurs up a secondary love interest who, coincidentally, is ALSO a sexy supernatural entity, and is much less coincidentally just Jacob.

We should establish here that Edward is like a 107 year old white dude and so even though Diary!Bella pretends not to see it, Metatextual Frame Story!Bella knows that dude is super racist.

Jacob Black is three things: 1. Like Bella, a mutant (although one with shapeshifting abilities), 2.one of Bella’s oldest and most trusted confidants, and 3. down to clown on an elderly teenage vampire who keeps stereotyping him. Sure, says Jacob, I’ll take the form of a werewolf. He seriously thinks we’re all just beastmen, huh? Hey look at me now, I’m Regis Philbin because this is 2005 and Who Wants to be a Millionaire is still sort of relevant. Sick.

Edward does not like that Bella has one (1) other friend. Bella and Jacob plot to use this to their advantage and lure Edward back on the wings of jealousy.

Eddie gets himself into trouble on account of Angst and poor communication, so Bella has to go rescue him from himself/the Volturi.

Aro finally meets her and gets to test her powers, which impress him. Now she’s back on the fucking radar.

I forget everything that happens in Eclipse, so i have chosen to omit that part.

Eventually she extracts a quid pro quo from Eddie; i’ll marry you if you turn me into a dracula.

We don’t really call ourselves that, Wet Blanket Cullen replies, entirely earnestly.

Bella gets married at 18 in 2006, and Eddie starts to backtrack his promise about changing her. This won’t stand.

Well, look, he’s an elderly guilty catholic/mormon teen who probably still uses super racist terms, but she’s stuck on honeymoon island, he has certain angles that work for him, and seriously what are they gonna do but fuck? Bella’s alternative is listening to her “husband” drone on about his interests, which are almost certainly Car, How Do I Post a Minion Picture on Facebook, and Licorice Used To Be a Lot Cheaper in the Good Old Days.

Whoops a fetus.

Bella recognizes that she’s GOT to have this baby: time’s running out, and Bella knows that at least two of the Vamps in her coven will cut ties if she terminates or otherwise fails to carry this baby to term because of the conservative religious subtext. She’s going to have to stick it out for 9 months, even though it’s a risky call.

Bella gets what she wants after giving birth. “My time as a human is over, but I've never felt more alive. I was born to be a vampire.” That’s a direct quote. Except now she’s got a (pretty cute and easy) baby that she desperately wants to protect from Turning Into A Vaguely Religious Cullen Dressed Head To Toe In Cream Colored Wool.

Bella decides to fake her own death and escape with the kid and Jake so they can form i guess a detective agency. Bella will get “killed” by the Volturi, move to Sydney, and open up shop, and Jake will take the kid after her a few months later.

They’re gonna need a reason why Jake gets the kid though, and there’s only one reason to do anything amongst the Cullens: a heterosexual love interest with a super problematic age gap.

Jesus, Jake sighs, is Eddie really going to believe I’m in romantic love with your actual infant? Does he really think that little of me?

Yup.

Bella tries to draw the Volturi’s attention.

Works too well.

The Cullens call up all their vague acquaintances, who are at least kind of fun. Particularly that one dude who keeps getting angry about British conduct during the American Revolution.

Well, fuck, now the Volturi are bringing an army to fight their ragtag army of Vampires Who Are Cool And Interesting Enough That We Can Safely Presume They Are All Definitely Gay. Bella can’t let those guys die, they’re the first actually compelling vampires she’s ever talked to.

Bella saves the day because she’s OP.

All the Cool Vamps start packing up to leave and Bellz almost goes with them, but the Cullens would just keep sending missionaries after her if they knew.

Bella finishes her fourth journal with the vague warning that the Volturi are still out there somewhere and they miiiight just try and get her.

Two days later, she stages a scuffle and gets the fork out of Fucks. Her journals are the only clue.

Sirius Black and baby nessie follow once edward has stopped sobbing into his cream colored sweater and moved on to Extended Power Pouting.

Bella recruits her own army of fledglings.

Bella stages a coup against the Volturi and succeeds.

Bella sits on the iron throne with a hot lady vampire on each knee and they all kiss and stuff.

Nessie I guess forms a post punk band?

Edward dies from aspiration of a brussel sprout that he ate because he just wanted to feel something.

Charlie and Billy get married.

Charlie’s mustache develops a cult instagram following, providing them with a modest retirement income.

Jacob shapeshifts into Bill Murray and is always crashing weddings.

Bella’s stepdad is off in the B plot this whole time winning the world series with the help of a kooky angel.

There. Fixed. My soul is at rest.

36K notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

All For The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin/Jedi Reader

Word Count: 3,282

When gathering bounties, the Reader wonders how long it would take Mando to catch them. A bet ensues. Will the Reader last all 24 hours, or will Mando hunt them down before the time is up?

You sighed in the comforting silence of the Crest, carefully taking apart your lightsaber to examine the purple kyber crystal. You’d never had problems with your lightsaber, but you liked to be sure everything would continue to be in working order for any future events. Grogu was asleep, and would likely be that way for at least the next 24, if not 48, hours. The final member of your small clan was sitting on a crate, silently sorting through available bounties. He dismissed most of them on the basis of time, considering the three of you could only be in one place for a week or two.

“How long does it take you to catch one?” You asked, breaking the silence as you clicked your saber pieces back together.

Mando looked up, the T of his visor sending a shiver down your spine. “What?”

You shrugged off the feeling of the shiver, putting your saber back on your belt. “How long does it take you to catch a bounty, on average?”

“On average,” Mando repeated slowly, clearly thinking it over. “Two days, depending on the skill set the bounty has.”

Nodding, you stretched. “What about me? How long would it take you to find me?”

Mando was quiet. He’d met you due to a bounty on your head, but had never once tried to turn you in or hunt you down. “Where?”

“Here,” you said, gesturing to an open hatch that overlooked the bustling city.

Again, Mando considered it. “A day.”

“A day?” You laughed, standing and moving to set up your sleeping area. “I bet I could last longer than that.”

“Do you now,” Mando drawled, his voice a tone you’d decided long ago was amused.

You smirked. “Yeah. I do. I think it would take you at least two to catch me and bring me back to the Crest.”

Mando stood, holding a hand out. “Wanna bet?”

Immediately, your chest tightened with excitement. You and Mando made bets a lot, considering it was often the only thing to do in hyperspace. “Fine,” you said, shaking his hand. “Some rules. No going easy on me. I want this to feel legit.”

Mando nodded. On bigger bets, you and him would alternate coming up with rules until you were both satisfied. “Second,” he said. “No intent to hurt or kill.”

An obvious one, but you kept going. “I get a head start of half an hour.”

“Okay. No using your weird power.”

“It’s called the Force, and sometimes I can’t control it.”

“Fine. No excessive intentional Force using.”

“Then you can’t use any weapons beyond your blasters.”

“My built in ones?”

“I’ll make an exception. But no Z-6. It stays here. And don’t use those fancy ass settings on your HUD. That absolutely counts as cheating.”

Eventually, you and Mando reached a nice point of agreement on all fronts, and you began to get ready as Mando took the Child into the cockpit to wait out your half hour head start.

Immediately, you dug up clothes Mando didn’t even know about, dressing quickly. They were your old Jedi robes, altered after you left to help you survive with a bounty on your head. You clipped your saber to your belt and tugged your old boots on, carefully tying away your hair and slipping on your hood.

Walking silently out of the Crest, you checked your wrist, where a small multipurpose watch sat nestled between strips of leather to make makeshift vambraces. You set the watch to alert you when Mando left and raced off into the city.

Even now, as the sun was setting, the city was busy. You slowed, checking your watch. Mando was still on the ship, and would continue to be for another ten minutes.

Taking a minute, you stopped to wander, making a plan. It had been almost 18 months since you’d hid from anyone this way, but as you imagined the Mandalorian hunting you down, it sharpened your instincts back to their razor-fine point.

You smiled to a merchant you bought food off of, heart beating faster when your watch chimed and set a 24 hour timer. Mando was on the hunt.

Scanning the skyline, you noticed a standout structure. A big wheel with baskets to hold people. It was in the more abandoned part of town, where only the desperate dwelled.

But you weren’t desperate yet. Drawing your hood closer around your face, you continued about your way, acting as if you belonged. With your bag and your entirely innocent demeanor, you hoped Mando’s helmet would just glide right over the back of your head.

You fought to keep yourself from tensing when you heard the telltale clinking of beskar behind you. But you managed to keep yourself composed as Mando passed right by you. The merchant you were talking to was relaxed, maybe a bit too relaxed, you realized as you used the Force to speed up the transaction.

Stuffing the spare clothes into your bag, you bowed slightly to the merchant and began to walk off, towards the residential district. To anyone, it would look as if you were merely done shopping for the evening and were headed home.

As you walked, you cursed your subconscious instincts. The Force had, upon remembering the feeling of being hunted down, heightened your hearing. You pulled your hood down, sliding a pair of pod racer goggles over your eyes. You couldn’t risk getting anything in your eyes now.

Leaving your hood down, you shivered as a breeze blew through, carrying the sound of beskar. Was he already on your trail?

Wondering if he’d remember if you used Force persuasion on him, or if it would even work at all, you continued to walk without a care in the world. Ducking down a narrower street, towards the abandoned district, you checked your watch once you were in a good enough alcove. An hour had passed since the hunt had begun.

You continued to make your way towards the wheel, climbing up on people’s rooftops and racing across with silent footsteps. You caught sight of Mando at one point, checking his vambrace. Probably checking the time, just as you had been periodically doing.

You walked away, ducking behind a chimney when he turned to look in your direction. But his focus was on the ground. Had he seriously forgotten about the skillset that kept you alive for all those years?

You continued towards the wheel structure, killing another hour with how you were twisting and turning to see if Mando was following you or if he was just looking.

You scaled the wheel with ease upon reaching it, settling down in the highest basket. You could see Mando’s helmet glinting in the low night lights occasionally, but he didn’t seem to be on any kind of trail, so you scooted down, heightened your senses, and closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke to the sun on your face, filtered through the protective lenses of your goggles. You were awake immediately, senses all hitting eleven as you felt someone scaling the wheel.

Looking down, you blood ran cold. With nine hours gone and fifteen left, Mando had found you.

You scooped your stuff up, tossing the cloak you’d purchased on to hide your Jedi clothes. In one smooth movement, you jumped, grabbing the old structural beams of the wheel and thanking the Force you’d picked up a pair of gloves as you swung from beam to beam with practiced ease.

By the time you’d hit the ground, Mando was only halfway down, cursing loudly. So he had forgotten you were a self-taught acrobat.

As soon as your boots made contact with the ground, you took off running, heading through the maze of scrap metal. You gave Mando a generous five minutes to get off the wheel, so you abandoned your cloak down one split at a fork in the road, backed up, and sprinted down the other one.

You were aiming to hide away in the shadows of one of the warehouses, hoping they were filled with junk you could hide behind. Once you had proper shadow cover, no one would be able to find you.

Of course, your entire plan was hinging on Mando not finding you before you reached the warehouse. The Force was active in your veins, reaching out and determining where he’d gone. He had followed the fork with your cloak, which would take him back to the market district.

Slowing to a walk, you caught your breath, noting a pair of eyes on you. “Hello?”

The person squeaked, hiding behind a crate.

You smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. “Hi. Did I scare you? I’m so sorry, me and my friend are just playing a game.”

The person, who you could now see was a child, peered out. “You’re a Jedi.”

You glanced down at the lightsaber on your belt. “I was,” you murmured. “But now, I’m just a person.”

The child still seemed nervous. “Do you need help?”

Crouching down so we’re the child’s height, you thought. Mando hadn’t said anything about receiving help, but you were fairly certain it was against the rules anyway. “No,” you said. “Like I said, it’s just a game. My friend isn’t actually trying to hurt me.”

Of course, in that moment, a thick rope wrapped around your body, causing the child to cry out, scurrying away down a tunnel as you writhed. Truthfully, this would’ve been easy to escape, but you wanted to put on a show and make this interesting. You stood, hearing Mando’s footsteps clinking slowly as he wound the rope closer.

“I can bring you in warm,” a low voice said from behind you, causing your entire body to shiver with an exhilarating mix of terror and excitement. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

You waited, still and compliant, as Mando drew closer. Might as well use this time to test a previous theory.

You turned, leaving a single coil of rope around your elbows and waist. “Mando. They sent you after me, hm? They’re fools, all of them.”

Mando, to his credit, stayed silent.

Sighing, you lifted your hands, opening your palms in the universal ‘I’m unarmed’ gesture. “I’m not your bounty,” you said firmly, dominant hand making a small arc as you prayed this would work. Mando’s mind was a steel trap, and Force persuasion rarely worked on those who were strong willed. “You need to let me go and head back to the market district. That’s where your bounty went.”

Mando’s body shuddered, muscles tensing. “Shut up,” he growled, actually growled, at you.

Instead, you repeated your phrase, putting as much Force behind it as possible.

Mando didn’t falter, and when you saw that this wasn’t going anywhere, your dominant hand shot down, quick as a flash, and grabbed your lightsaber. Severing the rope in one smooth movement, you raced off while Mando caught his bearings, shaking his head and following after you.

You were fast and you knew it, having been trained as a Jedi meant you were always in peak physical condition. But no amount of exercise or training could help the fact that Mando’s legs were longer than yours.

“Shit!” You yelled, skidding around a corner and seeing a ten foot tall chain link fence between you and the warehouses. At the top of the fence sat coils of highly charged wire, meant to deter those who wanted to enter. But nothing could deter you now.

You began to scale the fence, making it almost all the way up before Mando caught up to you. He called your name out, voice desperate. “Come back here!”

“Like hell I will,” you replied, gripping the top chain and praying this would work.

He called your name again, the fear in his voice making you pause. “You’ll get hurt! Let’s just go.”

You screwed your eyes shut. In one calculated movement, you threw your body over the electric wire, arching your back and falling the ten feet down to the ground on the other side.

Turning, you smiled at Mando, who was in apparent shock that that had actually worked. “Good luck,” you said with a mock salute. “You only have fourteen hours left.”

Just like that, you ran off, heading down the row of warehouses. You picked one about five down, some old storage plant that made an excellent hiding place. Wedging yourself between two crates on the top floor, you settled in with an old book and a dim flashlight.

At the three hour mark, you put your book down, wanting to save the rest for later, just in case you found somewhere else to hide. Instead of reading, you shuffled around until you found a semi-comfortable position and slipped into sleep.

Your nap lasted longer than expected, clocking in at just over five hours. The exhaustion of being hunted wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but it had been a while since you’d experienced it, and you were fairly certain that you’d sleep for years upon reaching the Crest again.

You checked your watch, standing and stretching to work the kinks out of your neck and back. Six hours left. This was shaping up to be the longest twenty four hours of your life. You’d always been cautious when you’d been hunted, but those were average bounty hunters. Being hunted by Mando was a totally different experience.

Speaking of Mando, he wasn’t anywhere close to you, if your senses were accurate. You looked around, spotting a promising place to settle in the shadows.

You carefully scaled thick chains and swung a few times to reach the hanging canvas cloth, held in the air by a length of chain. It took a few tries, but you were eventually cocooned safely in your makeshift hammock. Leaning back and letting the canvas cradle your body, you pulled your book out, entirely determined to finish it.

You did manage to finish the book, killing another five hours. Only one left.

At this point, you were worried about Mando. He hadn’t showed up for thirteen hours, which was concerning. Had he given up? No, he wouldn’t. He had to have a plan.

You wiggled upright, wrapping a leg loosely in chain and sliding down to the ground. If Mando was waiting for you, then you’d give him what he wanted. There was only an hour left anyway.

You found him in the market district square, talking to a merchant. He was waiting for you to come to him.

“Smart bastard,” you grumbled, checking your watch. Half an hour.

Mando turned, spotting you with your saber out but unlit. “You found me.”

“You were baiting me,” you argued. “You’re still treating this like a game.”

Everyone in the square hurried off, as if bounty hunts were normal out here. There was a clear ring for you and Mando.

You lit your lightsaber, moving to a fighting stance. “Come get me, Mandalorian.”

Mando’s hand twitched on his blaster, but before he could get a shot out, you were gone.

You ducked and weaved down abandoned streets, lightsaber unlit in your hand. You were headed back to the Crest, Mando hot on your heels.

You jumped, easily stepping up a stack of crates to the rooftops. Mando remained on the ground, racing beside you. He fired his blaster off a few times, and while his aim was true, you blocked them with ease, saber lit and whirring as you ran.

Eventually, you reached the end of the roofs, jumping down and zig-zagging your way through the smaller houses on the outskirts of the city. The Crest was just up ahead, and you skidded behind it, where no one else could see you fight.

Mando came up behind you with a flurry of dust, his blaster raised. You blocked the shots, hearing the click of the blaster emptying. Mando swore, coming at you with his fists.

It wasn’t a horrible mistake, but his fighting style was entirely focused on physical force, whereas yours was more about the dance and balance of the fight. You matched Mando’s every move, whirling around him and occasionally striking his pauldron or backplate. Your lightsaber did nothing against the beskar, but it was more about the fact that you were slowly wearing him out.

Eventually, you managed a high kick, accidentally aiming wrong. You’d meant to catch his collarbones, but your foot hit the lower lip of his helmet instead, sending it flying off and spiraling into the air.

You stopped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck. Sorry. Go get that, okay? No cheap shots, I promise.”

Mando shuffled, grabbing his helmet. When he softly signaled you, you opened your eyes. He was ready, fists raised. As you lit your saber and slid to a fighting stance, your watch beeped. You stared at it, confusion quickly melting to happiness. “I won!”

Mando stood straight, a low chuckle coming from under his helmet. “So you did.”

You two ended up back in the Crest, the same way you’d been the last time you’d been here. You had bathed, changing back into the soft sleep clothes you wore around the Crest. Mando, still in his armor, recharged his blaster, methodically taking apart his pulse rifle to examine the pieces. You did the same to your lightsaber, sitting opposite Mando in the cargo hold.

“You never told me what you wanted.”

“Hm?” You looked up, a bit confused.

Mando shrugged. “You won. What do you want?”

“I dunno,” you said softly, clicking your saber pieces back together. “Who are you?”

“What?”

“That’s what I want,” you decided. “Who are you Mando? I’ve known you for almost two years, and yet, I know nothing about you.”

Mando was silent, so silent you figured he wouldn’t answer. But then, he looked up.

“My name is Din Djarin.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Din Djarin.”

After that, it was silent again. You finished with your saber, putting it with your day clothes and heading to the cockpit to entertain Grogu, who had just woken up.

That night, after you’d laid down in your tiny sleeping area, you heard the door hiss open. Assuming it was just Din, you rolled over, rubbing your eyes against the harsh lights. “What?”

Din looked as ashamed as someone wearing a face-covering helmet could. “I can’t sleep.”

You were still confused. “Pardon?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I heard you,” you grumbled. “But what does that mean?”

Din took a breath. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see you, leaping that fence like an idiot. You scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

“Huh.” You shuffled in your bed, balling the blanket up. “I guess, well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Din promised. “But can I?”

He didn’t even need to finish. You scooted over, making as much room as you could. “C’mon. Yours probably has more room, but I know for a fact my mattress is softer than yours, and I’m sore as shit right now.”

Din chucked, climbing into the bunk and lifting Grogu up with him.

It took some finessing, but eventually, you and Din were comfortably snuggling together in your bed, Grogu in his tiny hammock above your feet.

“Do you really sleep with it on?” You asked the pitch blackness in front of you.

“Hm?” Din hummed, and his voice sounded clearer, more human.

You smiled, curving into his chest and wrapping him up closer to you. “I guess not. Good night Din.”

Din let out a soft breath, ruffling your hair and letting his chin rest on top of your head. “Good night.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #my writing #pedro pascal

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years

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Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings, of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,” Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18 @threeminutesoflife @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @sherrybaby14 @opheliadawnwalker3 @life-of-yn @mcudarklibrary @marvelfansworld @imdarkinme @sapphirescrolls @samingtonwilson @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @pseudonymphet @dahkness @saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @chixkencxrry @anyatheladyclown @stargazingfangirl18 @saint-bvcky @cherienymphe @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cockslut-padalecki

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writingsbymarie · 4 years

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Drive - Rafe Cameron x reader

Word count: 2,890

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drug use, angst, and a steamy make out

A/n: yes I know Rafe is not a good person, but he is intriguing and I love Drew so I just had to write for him, and in this, I wrote him much sweeter like they should have written him, and in this, he doesn't kill the sheriff. I also wrote this while listened to Drive by Halsey you want to listen while reading :). Also, send in requests for JJ and Rafe, and I’d also be willing to write for John B. and Pope. This probably one of my favorite things I have written so I hope you guys like it :)

He was a dick. God, you hated him, but for some reason, you were drawn to him. After your dad went missing you had to take care of your brother, yeah we were 18, but you couldn’t be John B.s legal guardian, so you kept your uncle a secret and found yourself a job at the country club for the summer, and that's where it all started. That's when you found yourself falling for the self-centered, arrogant Rafe Cameron.

He was a year older than you, and before the summer you had seen him at parties and heard stories about the crazy things he did. Drugs were the big ones. Not only was he doing cocaine, but he was also selling it too. You didn’t quite understand why he would sell them since he was rich, but the boy who had so much potential and privilege was running his life into the ground.

Your first encounter with the honey-haired boy happened at the food area of the club. You were a hostess, and he came to order a smoothie. You walked over to greet them but before you could say anything Rafe spoke up.

“Hey pogue, bring me a strawberry banana smoothie” he demanded. You wanted to give him a piece of your mind because he didn’t even say please, but the last thing you needed was a complaint from Ward Cameron's son. So you forced a smile and choked out the niced ‘that will be right up sir’ and turned on your heel rolling your eyes the second you were not facing him anymore. You brought the order to the girl who was making the smoothies and she started the order. You looked over at a Rafe who was waiting by the golf cart with his friend Topper and Kelce. You couldn’t deny one thing. Rafe was an attractive young man. You hated that you thought that, but he was your type. A tall blonde with a toned body. The girl who made the smoothie tapped you on the shoulder and handed you the smoothie taking you out of your thoughts. You walked towards the boys who were laughing about who knows what and handed the smoothie to Rafe with a smile.

“Have nice day boys” You said with a forced smile. “And by the way, my name isn’t ‘pogue’ my name is Y/N” and with that, you turned around leaving Rafe wondering. Rafe would never admit it, but he found you hot. He was intrigued by you and that is precisely why he came to see you multiple times a week without his friends. He would make excuses of why he was there, but eventually, it became a pattern that you caught onto. Your conversations got longer, and you began to see a soft side of a boy you thought was a narcissistic unpredictable asshole.

The first time you started to catch feelings was at the end of one of your shifts on a Friday night. The sun was setting and you grabbed your phone to call John B to pick you up. At this point in the summer, you and Rafe had a platonic friendship. He had even given you the nickname pogue princess which you hated to admit made you blush every time.

“There's my pogue princess” you heard from behind you immediately knowing who it was. Your heart skipped a beat and you turned around to be faced with the rich blonde boy you now would call your ‘friend’.

“Damn you couldn’t go a whole day without seeing me, if I didn’t know any better i’d say you like me kook, and that's not allowed” you smirked, giving a light hit on the shoulder.

“In your dreams princess” he winked and you rolled your eyes walking past him.

“My shift is over Rafe so I’m not bringing you a smoothie”

“I didn’t come for a smoothie I came to see you” he mumbled like he was scared to admit. The truth was he hated how he felt about you. He hated how his heart skipped a beat every time your eyes met his. He hated that he found himself drawn to the country club just to come to see you, and he hated that he craved your attention. You, on the other hand, were feeling the same way. You hated that every day you worked you waited for him to show up. You hate that the second he walked in you felt warm and happy, and you hated that you were falling for a kook and that the kook you were falling for was Rafe Cameron.

“And why are you here to see me, you could be out with your friends right now doing whatever kooks do in their free time,” you asked as you turned around to face him. His demeanor was soft and it made your heart melt. It was the way his eyes on you and then and there you felt a feeling you had never felt before. Love.

“As much as I hate to admit it. I like talking to you. It's refreshing” You wanted to respond with something witty, but you were almost speechless. His face began to heat up when you didn't respond right away. You could see the small panic in his eyes. “Sorry, that was weird I-”

“No, no, it's not weird I like talking to you too” you smiled. You walked out of the country club side by side with Rafe.

“So how was your day?” he asked sweetly.

“Pretty good, just hate when the creepy old rich men hit on me, but they tip well so I can’t complain too much, how was yours”? You smiled.

“Pretty boring just the usual”

“What's the usual for a kook thought? Is it sitting by the pool, going for a boat ride in your yacht, and drinking in your mansion” you joked.

“I mean some days are like that” he smirked, bumping his elbow into yours.

“Not surprised” you giggled.

“Wait how are you getting home”

“I have to call my brother to come-”

“I can drive you,” he interrupted. It was almost desperate. The truth was he had gotten in a fight with his father and for some reason the only person he wanted to be with was you and that scared the living hell out of him.

“Are you sure, driving through my side of town for a kook is asking a lot”

“You're not asking, I'm offering” he was being sweet, and it was a weird thing to see. You didn’t understand how the boy who constantly bullied and beat up your brother and his friends could be kind. You felt guilt and love. Rafe was horrible to people you cared about, but you just couldn’t shake him.

“Fine, but only this once, and my brother can not find out”

“My mouth is shut”

You both walked to his car and he opened the door for you. You took a seat and fastened your seatbelt. The sun was almost set and you could see the stars starting to fill up the sky. Rafe started the car and backed out of the parking lot. You knew there was something different about him today. You just knew something was wrong or something had happened.

“Hey Rafe”

“Yeah”

“Are you okay?” you asked your voice soft so you didn’t scare him off.

“Um, yeah why” he stuttered and it was an obvious lie.

“You just are acting different today, you know you can talk to me it's not like I have anyone to tell”

“I don’t want to burden you with my problems”

“It wouldn’t be a burden Rafe, and maybe I can burden you with some of mine”

“If I share mine you owe me some of yours I want to know you”. He wanted to know you. You felt your heart race, and your whole body heated up.

“Deal”

“It’s just my dad, he doesn’t think I can take over the family business. He never believes in me. It's always Sarah. She's always been his favorite no matter how much I try to prove myself to him all he sees me as is a disappointment” he ranted, and you felt your heart drop. You knew Ward was a cruel man, but showing obvious favoritism towards a child is sad. You felt bad for Rafe Cameron, something you never thought you would think.

“Rafe you’re not a disappointment, look parents suck, not all of them, but a lot of them. Parents should never put their child down like that I’m sorry that he's doing that to you” you assured him, and you grabbed his hand that was on his thigh and gave it a small squeeze. Rafe's heart was beating out of his chest. His hands were clammy, and he almost felt dizzy. He had never felt this way about a girl, and it terrified him.

“Thanks” he whispered.

“Anytime” you both sat in silence the only noise coming from the soft radio.

“So what about you”

“Well my dad is probably dead, and my mom left us when I was 5, and I’m trying not to lose my brother to DCF so there's that” he didn’t say anything at first, but his heart broke for you. You had so much pressure on you, and you were only 18, and you didn’t have a parent to call you a disappointment. “Sorry that was a lot,” you said embarrassed putting your face into your hands.

“Hey look that's was a lot, and I know that there isn’t anything I can say or do to make those things better, but you can always talk to me Y/N just know that” he soothed glancing over at you for a second and putting his eyes back on the road. Your heart was swelling, and you were happy. You were so happy for the first time in months.

“Thanks, Rafe that means a lot” and he looked at you and smiled, and with that he was near your house, and you directed him to your house.

“Thanks, Rafe for everything”

“Of course, and I hope to see you soon pogue princess”. You let out a small laugh and exited the car feeling a mix of guilt and pure happiness. Rafe found himself watching you as you walked away, and the second you walked inside he missed you, and you missed him too.

As summer went on things began to get chaotic. You were going on a crazy adventure to find 400 million in gold, but you were still working, and seeing Rafe at the country club, and Rafe had hired you to work midsummers. He even bought you a dress to wear, and this was the day things between you and Rafe turned from friends to more than friends. You were handing out drinks and Rafe had taken the last one. He had you put the tray down and invited you to see his room. You walked with him admiring the beautiful mansion. When you reached his room it was clean and huge.

“I’m pretty sure your room is bigger than my whole house” you laughed. He walked to sit on his bed and you followed, taking a seat next to him. You were so close to him your legs were touching, and you could feel your body heating up.

“You know I get paid to serve people here Rafe” you laughed.

“I know if you just take a break there's nothing wrong with taking a break you gotta ease up Y/n” he joked and you laughed. It was quiet for a minute until Rafe spoke up again. “You know you look absolutely beautiful tonight” at this point your heart was beating out of your chest, but you weren’t exactly sure what to say so you made a joke to cover up the blush arising on your face.

“I don’t look beautiful all the time” you questioned sarcastically.

“You look beautiful every day” he said in all seriousness, and you turned your head to see his blue orbs. You felt yourself leaning in and you saw his eyes flash from your eyes to your lips. You wanted him to kiss you, and god he has been wanting to kiss you since the first time he saw you at the country club, but he was terrified of rejection. His hands were sweaty and his heart was beating out of his chest. Your lips were inches apart, and Rafe's eyes fluttered shut and his lips met yours. You immediately leaned into the kiss butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You turned your body to get closer to him. His hands found your hips and your hands were on his cheeks. Your lips moved against each other slowly at first but both of you were desperate for each other's touch. You lifted your hips and you landed on his lap and wrapped his arms around your back pulling you as close to him as possible. The kiss became much more urgent and you pulled apart and you got on the bed and moved to get fully onto it. Your eyes reeled him in to follow you and he positioned himself on top of you and put his lips back on yours. Your hands wrapped around his neck playing with his hair pulling it a bit making him moan. His hands were feeling up and down your body and you felt euphoric. His lips left yours and went to your neck finding your sweet spot and you gasped. You pulled him from your neck and flipped him over so that you were on top and dived back down to kiss him again and his hands found your ass and you moaned into the kiss. One of his hands left your ass and he began to pull down the strap of your dress. Just as you started to unbutton his shirt you heard a voice from the hallway. It was Rafe's father calling him to come back to the party. Your face was bright red and you practically jumped off of Rafe, and Rafe told you to hide in the closet as he picked up his clothes. You felt amazing, and you thought this was the start of something beautiful, but you were so wrong.

After your brother was pushed from the tower Ward became John B's legal guardian, so DCF wouldn’t take him away, but that wasn’t the worst of it. You had found the gold, but now you found out that Ward not only tried to kill your brother. He had killed your father. The father of the boy you loved had killed your father and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. He came to visit you at your house and you had to be the one to tell him what his father had done. You were crying when you heard a knock on the door to see Rafe.

“Rafe I can’t do this right now” you sobbed refusing to open the door.

“Y/n what's going on your brother tried to kill my dad for no reason” and your heart sunk. He didn’t even know the truth. You opened the door, and his eyes softened. Your eyes were puffy, and tears were streaming down your face. He didn’t say anything. All he did was pull you into his embrace, and you cried into his chest. You wanted to push him away. After what his father did you wanted nothing to do with his family, but you couldn’t push Rafe away. Rafe held you in his arms rubbing your back while whispering that everything was going to be okay, but it wasn’t going to be okay. His dad murdered your dad for the gold, and you were so angry and you pushed him away and you could see the confusion in his face.

“No it’s not going to be okay” you wept.

“Y/n” he said as he tried to step closer, but you stepped back.

“Your father murdered my dad” you yelled, and Rafe's face changed to confusion and then anger.

“That's a lie,” he whispered.

“Its, not a lie Rafe, he murdered my father and he tried to murder my brother” you cried.

“He wouldn’t do that Y/n”

“He did Rafe” you wept.

“No, no your wrong, you’re lying this is all your brother”

“Rafe I need you to go”

“No, not until you tell me why you would say that about my dad” snapped, making you flinch. You had never seen him this angry, and you finally realized why people were scared of him and you felt your heart begin to shatter.

“Rafe get out” you sobbed and you pushed him out the door closing and locking it. You slid down the door, your chest heaving. Rafe stood outside the door trying to comprehend what had just happened. He refused to believe that his father would murder someone, but the sound of the girl he loved sobbing on the other side of the door broke his heart. As much as he loved her he thought he needed to be on his father's side, and with that, he left her all alone leaving both their hearts shattered in pieces.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe imagine

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spc4eva · 3 years

Text

Star-Burned: Chapter One

Ok, honestly, I couldn’t stop myself.

So this is my first reader insert. I am hella nervous. There will be no Y/N included, but pet names (and nicknames) given out by Paz that will act as Y/N. Additionally, feel free to imagine yourself in the shoes of the character, but I am going to include a few features that she has - to include very, VERY Merida curly red hair. Honestly, I'm gonna treat her more like an OC, but since it's a reader insert - imagine yourselves how you want QUEEN.

There's gonna be smut. But plot. I promise.

Summary: A Mandalorian crash lands on your planet with severe injuries. You're a moisture farmer who's handy. It's been a long time since you've had company other than your massiff, Jumbles. You take the Mandalorian in because you're a bleeding heart, not realizing what danger you've put yourself in. But the Mandalorian doesn't forget and he's more than willing to repay his debt and protect you.

Word Count: 5,398

Rating: M (18+) explicit sex scenes

| Chapter Two |

Cross Posted on AO3

Someone had crash landed.

Which, for this quiet hovel a planet, was the most action you'd seen in foreverrrr. Maybe ever to be honest. You were used to dealing with Jawas, the occasional drifter, and patching up your moisture farm as best as possible. Was honest work, pretty lonely since your folks had passed away, but it was all you had. Not entirely of course, there was the local wiley massiff that you'd feed scraps and talk to, as if it were a kindred soul, eying you with those beady little eyes before salivating over its disconcertingly large maw. Yeah, you should have been worried that it might've been sizing you up in case you didn't come out with a meal for it, but at least you did have a blaster. Would've been a sad day to have to put Jumbles down - yes, that's what you had named it. For no particular reason other than it had spontaneously fallen out of your mouth and the creature seemed to listen to it.

So when Jumbles trotted up with its spines quivering, baying and leaping around, you half expected it was going to lead you to another rotting womp rat corpse. What you were not expecting was to see smoke peeling from between the canyon walls, dark and sulfuric. Your years patching the farm up, making repairs to any scraps you had laying around - to include droids at times - had made you rather handy. You had to be when the nearest town was a two day ride on your speederbike. Self sufficiency was necessary, because it cost credits to get fuel and to ride out that far. Additionally, you had to plan for it... months ahead.

Jumbles sprinted ahead, wagging a tailless rump before glancing back at you with bounce in his paws. Follow. Come quick.

Now that you had an idea of what it was, your strides lengthened until you were chasing after the massiff. Between the terracotta walls and around a bend, until you were face to face with a crashed starship that had smoke rolling off the main engines. You winced at the carnage, a good portion of the hull smashed inward and splattered open, storage containers and supplies dashing the sand like organs splayed from a chest wound.

Jumbles woofed, approaching the wreckage.

"Not a good idea, boy," you started to say. Even if it was a dangerous wild creature, you still worried about it and this mess was still smoking. Who knew if it was about to explode, there could be fuel leaks in tandem with hanging wires and-

Jumbles went inside the ship.

"Ah!" Your legs churned after it. Even if you had to drag the massiff out of the carnage, you would. Jawas would find it soon enough and have their way with the supplies. Could be a good amount of things to take, but even if you were friends with Jawas, you didn't really like picking the bones of others.

Wires snapped and hissed like tiny snakes around your ear, threatening to singe your barely restricted hair as you ducked. The ship was in an abysmal condition, but the upper echelons of the craft were still intact... Warped, but intact. Your mechanic eyes began discerning the issues, locating the biggest issues first, which was-

Jumbles barked, your neck snapping fast enough that you thought you pulled a muscle. Palming your neck, you trailed forward and saw what... no, who the canine was standing over. Maybe he thought it was a droid. Hell, you thought it was a droid for a moment until you bent down to get a better look and saw that it was breathing. Jumbles yipped again and you blinked, realizing that the massive armored creature was a living person and looked hurt.

"Hey," you started, poking into the man's shoulder where the blue steel didn't meet. "Hey, you need to get up. This ship might go-" Maker, he felt like metal underneath all those layers. Could be a droid then and you were just wasting your time. "C'mon get up!" But you couldn't leave someone here to die on their ship as it leaked fuel and ignited itself. You rarely saw people as it was and what if the last person you ever saw with this guy and you let him become a toasted human inside his armor?

Hooking your fingers into the pauldrons of the armor, you made a valiant attempt at trying to drag the figure out of the ship. He didn't budge. Face down, unconscious, and weighing an absolute ton. Your heart was pumping by now and panic made your hands shake as you desperately glanced around for a solution. Just... anything, a repulsor lift, a speeder... a speeder? Jolting to your feet, you spotted the storage area, having been thrown haphazardly around like a pinball during the crash landing, but still intact.

Now, the issue would be getting this man onto the speeder. You couldn't even drag him, how in the Maker's name were you going to hoist him over? You brought the speeder over and chewed your lip at your plight, hopelessly glancing from bike to fallen warrior.

"Hey," you tried again, hoping that maybe you'd get an answer this time. "Hey, c'mon are you in there?" You knocked on the helmet as if it were a door, your knuckles screaming in immediate protest. That was the least of your worries, because a hand flew out, grabbed your ankle, and ripped you off your feet. Back smacking on the steel floor, you groaned as the metal giant finally stirred. Despite the brazen display of insane speed, the figure was barely able to move more than a few centimeters... but he was alive, so he had that going for him. "Maker-" Scrambling back to your feet, you gave him another look over. "If you can hear me, I'm going to try and get you on your feet. I need your help though, can't pick you up myself."

You positioned yourself around him, finding his arm and slinging it around your shoulders before popping a squat. Now, you weren't very big or very strong. Just strong enough to lift things when you needed to, but you had lifts to do the heavier jobs back on the farm. Your knees quaked as you tested the pressure before sucking in a greedy breath. "Alright, one, two, three-" Exploding upward - or making an attempt to explode upward - you made it about a foot and a half before your calves died on you and your back buckled forward. "AH!" It didn't feel good, the absolute loss of control over your body as you expected to fly face first into the side of the speeder. Unfortunately for you, you didn't have a helmet protecting your face.

But it never came and you chanced opening an eye to look. The man was trying to stand, alleviating a brief amount of pressure as you widen your eyes. Swallowing the huge lump in your throat, you quickly thrust him forward and unceremoniously onto the bike. He grunted, but didn't manage any words before lolling, stomach first, onto the seat.

There would be no comfortable way to ride this bike, you saw that now as you tried to shove him over the tail a little better, squeezing yourself tightly into the thrusters, almost off the seat entirely as you kicked it into gear and backed out through the massive tear in the hull. Jumbles ran along dopily as you very carefully - at almost a gruelling pace - brought the bike through the ravine and up the ride toward your moisture farm. Now came the second issue.

Getting him inside.

"We have to walk again," you warned him, the light of day revealing the color of the man's armor - a deep ocean (or from pictures you’d seen of oceans) blue accent with marigold yellow. Didn't quite strike you when you were panicking, but you saw it now as the haze of strife cleared. A Mandalorian. You had pulled a kriffing Mandalorian from the wreckage of his ship. Fuck. That ship definitely had carbon scarring on it - indicative of a dogfight.

Too fucking late now.

"6PO can you get the lift?" You shouted for the protocol droid, an old rusted out piece of crap that you'd reprogrammed to help around the house. There was too much for you to do with just your own hands. The droid could manage the more mundane tasks, but still made a piss pour cup of caf.

The droid stuttered out - having never learned to talk properly - gave you a blank look, and then started waddling toward the work shed where the lift would be.

"Alright, mando, can you hear me?" you bent over, turning his helmet so that the visor was sort of looking up toward you. "Your ship crashed. Where are you hurt? I can't see that much with all that armor on." Part of you was asking this so you could tend his wounds and then send him packing. "6PO?" you raised your voice irritably, Maker that droid was always slow right when you needed it to be fast.

"W-where?" Finally he spoke, his strangled voice translated through the modulator in his helmet, breathy and in pain.

You told him the planet, pretty backwater and without much activity. There was a spaceport on the other side of the planet, but nowhere near where he was now. Finally, 6PO came over with the lift, cocking its head as you sighed. "About bloody time," you grumble, dragging the lift up and devoting your attention to your charge once again. "Gotta get up again."

This time the Mandalorian was more receptive, putting weight on his legs as you eased him onto the lift, which sagged until his weight. By the way he was cradling his abdomen you were guessing there was some sort of trauma there, but it was hard to tell. You weren't a medic, you weren't even pretending to be as you brought him into your home and slipped him onto your bed since it was the biggest one in the house. But what you did have was bacta, because if something happened to you where you crushed an arm or broke a bone, you needed to be able to fix it. Wasn't often that you had to use the concentrated shots, but it was always better to keep one on hand (even if it cost a fuckton of credits for it). Better to spend the money than die with it in your pocket.

Should you use it on the Mandalorian? That was the question, wincing as he drew rattled breaths in the bed, holding the shot in your palm as you really considered how many credits you had spent on this last year.

"I need to take a look. Can I remove your armor?" Very carefully you approached like a womp rat before a nexu, almost afraid that one of the very many weapons on his belt might soon be tilted toward you. Of course you knew the stories about Mandalorians and having a behemoth one in your modest home didn't make you feel much better. But he was still a person.

"Not... not the helmet," he grunted eventually.

Everything but the helmet. Alright, that could work. You didn't know how armor worked, so removing the armor was a shitshow of fumbling, your fingers catching buckles, pinching flesh, and other times was fastened so tightly that you had to put some weight into getting the kriffing things off. Took the better part of an hour, but you managed to remove the armor - aside from the helmet - and leave the Mandalorian in just his flight suit and boots. Now this next part felt a bit intrusive, but you convinced yourself that this was in for the better health of the mando.

Unbuttoning the top of the flight suit, you started to peel it down, a rush of heat playing across your cheeks as you revealed the muscular and well hewn figure of the ailing man beneath the beskar. You looked a little too long, but doubted the fellow was even conscious enough to catch your ogling. Biting your lips, you pushed the undershirt up and took your medical scanner to the constellation of bruising against his ribcage. Oh, it didn't look good and the scanner came back with a result that made your legs weak, but not in a good way.

"You've got three broken ribs, lacerations to your spleen and kidneys--" ok you didn't know medical stuff, but the device was blinking indicating that he needed treatment immediately or face going sepsis. Your brain nearly exploded with panic as you tripped over your own feet and sprinted for the bacta infusion, which jumped between your nervous, sweaty hands. "Th-this isn't g-gonna feel good," you stammered, uncapping the three pronged syringe. Maker you hated looking at it, the thing looked like a torture device.

Or go sepsis---

You shanked him with the infusion, pushing the plunger down, expecting him to recoil in pain. Actually, he didn't, which made your head turn slowly and a cascade of fiery curls follow as you just stared, in more distress than the severely wounded mando. "I-I will leave you to rest."

---

The infusion had been enough to stave off sepsis and repair the Mandalorian's organs, but he was still recovering from the broken bones. From your readings, the bacta had set them back into place, but he required more time to naturally heal the rest. What that meant was that you had suddenly become his caretaker, which consisted of feeding and helping him over to the fresher because he couldn't take his full weight on his injured side. For a Mandalorian, you didn't think he was that mean or callous. If anything, he was pretty gracious that you'd put the effort into struggling to get him back to your ranch.

But work didn't stop. In fact, you still had to run the farm while periodically checking in on the Mandalorian. Despite it, you tried not to seem bone weary when he asked for him. Wasn't his fault. If anything, it was your fault for helping him in the first place. He did answer a few questions, rumbling in a deep voice that sounded like thunder hinting at lightning on the horizon.

"What's your name?" "You can call me Paz."

"Why did you crash land?" "I was shot down."

"Why though?" "Made some Imps upset."

"So you can't take your helmet off?" "Not in front of anything living."

"Oh so, it's fine if they're dead." "I try not to remove it unless I'm alone."

"Why is it blue?" "Why is what blue?"

"Your armor? Why choose blue?" "It's my favorite color."

“Mine’s gold. Kind of like the yellow there on your armor.” “Your what?” “My favorite color.”

"You think those Imps are going to come looking for you?" "My ship crash landed, so I doubt it."

That ship, you had actually gone back to one afternoon to cordoned off from the Jawas. You knew them and decided that you liked the Mandalorian enough you weren't going to let his belongings get looted. Since it was close to your farm, laying claim to it - by Jawa code - was not difficult. You left them signs in their tongue, warding them off, before finding yourself taken aback that the thing hadn't exploded while you were gone. It needed a lot of work and probably a proper spaceport where it could be hoisted up and repaired from underneath.

Your stupid bleeding heart meant that you went and fixed a few wires in your spare time, soldering them off, and cleaning up the worst of the wreckage. The engines would take more time, but they weren't too dissimilar from what you'd worked on in other vehicles, including your speeder and tractor. Peeling open a few holobooks, you would hum yourself to sleep at night in your childhood bedroom, blinking away sleep as you contemplated how else you might help this... Paz. Being generous was not forlorn to you. You'd helped drifters passing through, offered to lodge them up for the night, fill their bellies before sending them off... This planet wasn't that bad aside from the arid landscape and mischievous Jawas.

Not like you had to worry about raiders or skugs. So your tenderheartedness hadn't come to bite you in the ass yet and aside from wanting a replacement to the bacta shot, you weren't expecting payment. It was called being a good human being and you pride yourself on the fact that you'd done something so nice. Plus, the added bonus was you didn't only have Jumbles to talk to. Now there was a living, breathing person who could hold conversation with you. Course, wasn't really to his will, but you tried not to pester him too much even though you were incredibly curious about what he did. Plus he seemed to get bored being pent up in that room.

"Tranyc," he'd taken to calling you that in some mysterious language you didn't know, as you hummed into the bedroom after knocking, carrying fresh caf and breakfast. Weeks had passed and he was almost well enough. "I think I might be able to walk on my own. Do you mind-"

Mind keeping an eye out for him? You nod, setting the tray down on the nightstand before preparing yourself. Now, you were a master of helping the blue Mandalorian on his feet, keenly aware of where you fit and could support him from without being crumpled like tin foil. He threw his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the floor as you stood guard, poised like a goalie ready to catch the ball in front of a net before the big shot was made. Admittedly, you were a little too silly for your own good, but being on your own for so long had done that. You would talk to yourself, make funny gestures, and do ridiculous things just to chase away the loneliness. Those mannerisms hadn’t really faded in light of your new acquaintance.

Paz pushed off the bed and stood there, towering over you at full height. You relaxed, glad to see that he was able to hold his own, but also sad about that. A pit welled in your belly, the realization that these few weeks had brought you a lot of happiness in having the company of another. And... you kind of liked him. Not in a companionable sort of way. No, you thought he was attractive --- from his voice, to his sturdy body, to the calm manner he'd talk to you. Despite all the stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, he was very warm and patient. Even if there was no face to place with all of that, attraction was more than just appearances, wasn't it? Then again, you'd been shocked by your sudden arousal on the first day of his arrival after just brushing his muscular chest.

Living alone didn't help your touch-starved addled brain.

And then he took a step forward and your spine jolted, darting forward as he winced for his side and wobbled. "Ah-hee!" a strange noise came out of your mouth as you tried to stop the tower of a man from tumbling and honestly, he tried too. But the result was still a mess of limbs, and you tried to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning him so that he didn't hurt his ribs again. Maker, that was your first mistake, thinking that you could take the weight of his body.

All air was crushed from your lungs, vision spinning as you made impact with the carpet. And it wasn't coming afterward, your throat bobbing but the pressure on your ribcage still too much that you were suffocating and unable to see at the same time. "Maker!" it wasn't your voice, but at the sound of it, the air whooshed back into your lungs and you sputtered hoarsely as someone sat you up. Not someone. There was only one other person on this farm. "Tranyc? Hey, can you hear me?"

"Y-yup!" you squeaked, the frayed edges of your vision swimming hazily back into focus as you saw that Paz was sitting on the floor with you, propping your semi-noodley form up. "A-are you ok?"

He sighed, the noise crackling out of his helmet as you trembled, sensation returning to your muscles. "I nearly crushed you. What were you thinking?"

"T-trying t-to he-help," you stammer, taking big gulps of air in between each word. Now you could feel a bit better, rolling your neck as you took account of what had happened. You had jumped to his side before he fell, taking the brunt of the fall directly on top of you. Not very smart at all. Then, he'd turned, picked you up and you were --- you were on his lap. "Wha--" Lancing like wildfire across a dry field of brush, blush erupted up your neck and face. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I fell on you," Paz pointed out, his helmet tilting to the side as your ears began buzzing. "Are you certain you're ok? I nearly flattened you."

"C-couldn't b-b-be be-better," your tongue was betraying you, thick and clumsy as you pushed against his chest -- oh Maker, the chest without the armor and only the flight suit. You could feel the grooves of his strong pectoral muscles beneath, the color on your face heightening to as bright a red as your hair. "I should... I should leave you to eat. Breakfast is on the ta-table."

You got to your feet, the weak wobbly limbs shaking, but not because you had been used as a pillowy landing for the Mandalorian. No, a heat radiated around your tummy and laddled lower into the abyss between your legs. A very, infrequently ventured area that had been visited once or twice by drifters, but never for much longer than an evening. Anyways, the Mandalorian wouldn't be interested in anything like that. You were just being hormonal and touch-starved. A little alone time could help you with that, right?

Pushing back your mop of hair, you trotted into the kitchen, glanced at the time and then rolled over onto the couch from behind. You flopped onto the cushions, hair flying everywhere again before you stared blankly at the ceiling, wishing you weren't so terribly horny right now after just grazing a man's chest. How pitiful was that? You were an adult, had been for a good amount of years, and all it took was a deep voice and strong body to make you lose all sense of yourself?

A soft whimper parted your mouth, the ache so desperate and painful that you gripped the fabric of your coveralls over your crotch and pressed into the sensation. Well, he couldn't walk anyways and you were the only one who lived in the house, so there was no risk in just relaxing here, was there? Despite it, you grabbed the nearby blanket and kicked off your overalls, returning a hand to the ailing point between your thighs.

Cheeks flushed, neck cocked against the arm rest, you spun circles on the fabric, your pads picking up the wetness through the material. Maker, you were absolutely dripping, soaking through your panties, and making your fingers tacky. Hooking underneath the textile, you run your fingers along the warmth, licking your lips and closing your eyes -- the first thing coming to mind being Paz. The mystery of the man beneath, the muscular pillars of his body, the golden blonde curls against his broad chest.

Your fingers move up to the bundle of nerves so desperate for attention, nearly screaming at you as you finally lavish attention. His voice, the deep rumble and attentiveness as you talk from where you sit in that chair beside the bed -- your bed. He was sleeping in your bed. Would it smell like him after? Would you ever wash the damn blankets after he left? Probably not. Edging yourself closer, you imagined his thick fingers plunging into your heat, reaching up into your molten core and--

"Tracyn?"

You nearly fell off the couch, clutching onto your sex for dear life as you froze. Your whole body vibrated, muscles stiffening as you fought off the white hot surge of an orgasm. How the fuck had he gotten out of the room?

Tufts of your long hair were sticking out from the couch. No matter how far you slumped down, tried to hide beneath the edge of the blanket, your fucking hair was a blinding curly beacon and fluffing out as an admission of betrayal.

You couldn't hold your breath any longer, the guttural whine hitching as the orgasm pittered into a woefully unsatisfying leap -- like a bird that had flung itself over a cliff with a broken wing, somewhat flying before it plummeted to the earth below. He came around the couch, still clutching his side, and paused. Now, the blanket was in the way, but your coveralls were crumpled on the floor and your face was deliciously flushed.

Oh, stars you looked awful. You absolutely knew how dirty you felt by assuming that he'd not walk out and find you, hand slicked with your own wetness and too embarrassed to move.

"What are you- Did I hurt you?" he asked, reaching down to snare the blanket away.

"N-no!" you gripped it with your free hand, but half of it was pulled away to reveal the outside of your bare leg, and the arm that was still hiding down there.

"Were you...?" his helmet tilted as you both just remained where you were for a beat. Heart racing like fathiers on a track in Canto Bight, your lower lip trembled in shame, waiting for him to throw the blanket back over and return to the room. He was walking. He could just leave and let you wallow in your own miserable chagrin -- drown in it at this point... "Did you finish?"

"W-what?" you squeaked, face managing to deepen another shade of crimson.

"Did you finish, mesh'la?" he repeated, sitting down on the couch by your feet, a tanned palm tracing the top of the foot. His skin was calloused, rough, and sandpapery. The foreign sensation made you shudder in his grasp, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, you liked the way his hand slowly coasted your calf in a soothing manner. "All alone on this big farm. Not another soul aside from Jumbles."

True, not another soul. You gave a quivering nod in agreement as his hand reached to graze the back of your knee. Still so gentle, with no insistency or malice.

"Doing everything all on your own. The farm, helping me, taking care of yourself," his hand moved higher, framing the outside of your lower thigh, which caused you to jump. "You haven't once asked me for anything. No repayment or deal despite using that bacta... Couldn't have been cheap. This is just a moisture farm, you're not raking in credits..." He paused, grazing your upper thigh now, daring to push the blanket over a bit more. "For weeks now... Helping me... Did you finish?"

You had, but it hadn't been any good. Your stupid head bobs anyways, sending a few curls tumbling into your face.

"Maybe-" he was drawing his hand back, the warmth of his scratchy fingers receding and you actually whined because of it, his helmet tilting back up to look at you. "Maybe," he was stronger now. "I can repay you a little for all you've done."

Maker, not a word came out of your mouth, you were nearly gnawing on the blanket from how nervous you were, but also from how much your core began aching again.

"Do you want me to, mesh'la? I won't touch you unless you want it. I don't want to overstay my welcome, I just thought that-" he trailed off and you wondered what he had thought. Had you been so obvious about liking him? You didn't think so, you thought you had been your usually, dorky but polite self.

"I want you to," you insisted, releasing the blanket so that the rest could slip off and pool on the floor. You still had your shirt on, but you were nude from the hips down, fronds of hair curling over your mound that matched the drapes. This felt oddly... exposing, even if it was only the lower half. And the fact you couldn't read him didn't help, just a blank mask of a face that was drinking you in and you had no idea if he liked or disliked what he saw. What if you were not at all what he had been hoping for? What if he didn't like what he saw?

He groaned, his palm returning to your leg, sliding up and burning a blistering wake of fire before he curved into your hip and jerked you toward him. "Oh, mesh'la," he moaned. "A desert gemstone hidden in these canyons. How did I get so lucky? Of all the planets and places-" he touched you down there, the very sensation of hands not your own making you jolt and your neck tense. Fuck --- it really had been a long time. "Wh-when the last time... have you ever... ?"

"A fe-ew ye-ears now," you admitted as his fingers scissor up between your folds. "Be-been on m-my ow-own for si-six. N-not ma-any t-t-travelers."

"So wet," he muttered, bringing the slick up and pinning two fingers on your aching bud. Back stiffening, you bucket at the sensation, grounded by his other palm pressing into the hollow of your hip. You were halfway tugged onto his lap as he watched on with fascination, the curve of your left leg hooked against his hip. "What were you thinking of? Before I found you?"

You blush deeper, if that were at all possible, turning your face away from him as he continued to draw lazy circles on your clit. "Y-you."

His groans again, a growing hardness against your leg -- a hardness for you. It's hard to decide what is more startling -- the fact that Paz is here getting you off or that he's aroused by the fact that you'd been playing with yourself while envisioning him. "I'll take care of you. You deserve it mesh'la. After everything you've done for me. I'll make you feel good," he promised, increasing his pace, dipping in his ring and pinkie finger while he continued to oscillate against your bundle of nerves. His fingers stretched you, just as thick and delicious as you'd imagined -- no, it was better than you imagined because it was real. Pumping into you gently, reaching so much deeper than your own small fingers can. "Tight. Maker, you're so tight."

Squirming on the couch, you grabbed onto the cushioned as he pleasured you, coaxing you toward the end of days, making you see stars beneath your closed eyelids. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, a warbled cry strangled completely as your legs locked out and walls tightened to vice grip his fingers.

"Cum on me, mesh'la. Let it all out, come on," he encouraged, his fingers quickening over your clit, your soul absolutely rending as you as ecstasy drowns your senses, your muscles clench, and the scenery of the house falls away. You're floating, physical body panning away from you as you bliss out and disconnect from your breathing and deflating heart rate. You'd never had an orgasm this heart stopping, so utterly piercing that you couldn't even tell where you were anymore.

Finally, you blinked out of your stupor, expecting to be left laying cock legged and messy, but instead you're in bed. Your actual bed, not the twin one that you had been sleeping in the past few weeks. Rolling your head to the side, you didn't see him, but you heard him in the adjoining fresher. You had underwear back on and a pair of pajama bottoms.

What the heck was happening? Did it matter? You just hoped it wasn't ending anytime soon.

#paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla x fem!reader #paz vizsla smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #star-burned

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

peter learns to shut the fuck up challenge

oh my god hi okay i’m (kind of) freshly back to tumblr and haven’t written content like this in over half a decade please be nice to me i am a broken 21 year old who can’t take criticism for shit

marvel cinematic universe: peter!centric, eventually starker

content: graphic depictions of violence, extremis!flash, selective mutism, brief talks of dying but it’s not that bad tbh, slightly aged up peter (he’s 18), use of slurs and derogatory terms, both in reference to self and someone else

summary: peter’s taken enough shit in his life. he lost his parents, he lost ben, he’s dealt with the number of shitty men may brought home - flash was like the cherry on top of the shit sundae. after a particularly bad day of taunting, peter is fed up, and decides to teach flash a lesson - but our baby boy is in for a big surprise when he discovers he isn’t the only freak kid at midtown tech.

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Peter'd been categorized as a loudmouth for years - by May, his friends at school, the Avengers he fought (and fought beside) in Berlin.

Never able to stop his nervous ramblings, his mouth tended to run away with him. He somehow never developed a filter, often getting himself into quite a bit of trouble. Usually his pretty face and quick thinking kept him from any real repercussions.

But there was one such instance he... couldn’t exactly get out of.

He'd been struggling with Flash's bullying for years. He'd called Peter names, hurled slurs, spat out indecencies - normally, Peter could take it. But after the bite... they all landed so much harder.

Peter didn't understand it - spiders didn't have emotions, did they?? Even if they did, that doesn't explain why he's so sensitive. If anything, you'd think the bite would make him aggressive, or argumentative, or angry - spiders were predators, not pussies. What was his problem?

He'd finally had enough one day at the end of his senior year. Flash was being particularly snide - excitement from graduation pushing his normal antics into overdrive.

"Oh come on, Penis. You gonna fight back one of these days or are you just gonna keep hanging your sad faggot head around town?" Flash followed him out of the school building, laughing at his own "joke".

What he wasn't prepared for was an actual answer to his question.

"Yeah, actually. I will."

Peter turned around, grabbing Flash by the straps of his backpack. He glanced around, checking for spectators, before shoving his bully into a secluded alley just ahead of them.

Flash, surprised (but not entirely put off), worked himself free of the backpack and slid behind the smaller boy. Sure, Peter was enhanced, but Flash still had a good head on him height wise.

"Finally decide to manhandle me back, huh Parker? That's so cute." Flash smirked, looking him up and down as he crowded Peter into the corner. "If you're feeling so big and brave, go ahead."

Peter looked up, confusion warping his soft features. Flash... wanted Peter to hit him? Why?

Before he could actually ask, he found himself collapsing on the ground, gasping for air. Flash drew his fist back, shaking off the punch he'd just thrown into Peter's side. He snatched his bag off the ground, tossing it away from Peter & beside a nearby dumpster.

"Christ, you look so pathetic down there! I almost forgot how small you were for a second," he laughed, taking a second to gloat. "Come on, Parker. What happened to finally fighting back?"

Peter'd always been a bit overzealous - I mean, c’mon, the kid grew up listening to stories about Steve Rogers for fucks sake, how could he not develop an underdog complex? He'd spent his childhood defending his family name, his teens protecting May from overzealous asshole boyfriends, and the most recent few watching over all of Queens.

So yeah, of course Peter was going to take this opportunity to kick some ass if he could.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled forward, regaining his balance and breath as he met Flash's eyes. The tiny success was short lived, though, as he felt himself flying backward and up into the brick wall behind him. What the actual fuck?

Peter's senses never failed him - and yet, they just had, twice in the last five minutes! What the fuck? How was Flash able to hit him without warning? How was Flash able to throw him?

The confusion must've been all over his face - Flash laughed as Peter crumpled & didn't attempt to get up again. He crowded into Peter's space, getting close to the little spider's ear.

"You really think you're the only special one in Queens, don't you Penis? You think you're the only one that can break a grown man in half?" Peter groaned, wincing at the pain behind his eyes. "Newsflash, freak. You're not special, you're not important, and you're not leaving this alley alive."

It was then, as Peter glanced back up, that Flash's eyes were glowing a sick green-grey unlike anything he'd ever seem. The senses that'd previously failed him so tragically now did a full 180, sending a wave of cortisol through his system. The need to runclimbswingescapego washed over him, the spider inside completely overriding the human.

As if he'd read Peter's mind, Flash quickly grabbed him by the throat, cutting off both his airway and any potential escape route. He squeezed hard, dragging Peter up the wall until they could look each other in the eye. He crowded closer, setting Peter's skin on fire in the worst way possible.

Peter was choking, clawing at the hand on his throat and trying to kick the monster in front of him away. Flash, annoyed, tightened his grip until Peter's hands dropped and his face turned purple.

Flash chuckled, dropping a now barely conscious Peter into a puddle on the rocky ground. He opted to trade his hands for the steel toed boots he'd so carefully laced up that morning, lips curling as the idea took shape in his head.

The first kicks landed on Peter's stomach, forcing air and blood from his mouth. The next were more stomps than anything, not aimed with any thought or finesse. Each landed heavier than the first, quickly pushing Peter toward a complete blackout. The spider was still screaming, but Peter couldn't do jack shit about it.

He lay back, resigned to his fate. I'm going to die here, he thought, desperately wishing he'd just kept his fucking mouth shut. A little bit of bullying was so much better than dying a week before graduation.

But, somehow, he didn't. Sure, Flash beat him all to shit - May had the hospital bill and the new grey hairs to prove it. But Peter lived.

It took Flash a while to get it all out of his system. The more pain he inflicted, the brighter his eyes got, slowly taking over any illusion of empathy his once brown irises had. He did, eventually, tire, and grow bored of kicking the same stunned spider. When he’d had his fill, he reached down for his backpack, hooking it onto his shoulder and smiling to himself.

Before leaving, though, he turned back to Peter, crouching down and settling mere inches from his face.

“Looks like I got Peter Parker to finally shut the fuck up.” Flash looked down at him as he rose, spitting on Peter’s face as a last hurrah before ditching him and the alley completely.

Peter crawled his way out of the alley after Flash left, blood soaking his shirt and face so swollen he was nearly unrecognizable. He dragged himself to the nearest shop, the kind (and very distraught) owner calling an ambulance the second she'd seen him.

............................................................................................................................

6 weeks later he was back to 100%, diploma in hand, ready to get the fuck out of Queens and up to Cambridge. He'd spent enough time being coddled, people hovering over him and tending to wounds he knew would take care of themselves. These took significantly longer, the extent of the damage worse than anyone thought - but he still healed, and was ready to stretch all eight of his metaphorical legs and get back to school.

The only problem? He couldn't speak.

Okay okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic - his vocal cords and tongue and everything still worked perfectly fine. But every time Peter opened his mouth, words failed him.

It was like Flash's hand was back around his throat, forcing air out of him and the words back inside. How the fuck was he supposed to go to school if he was effectively mute? Peter’d learned Italian in school, not ASL (a choice he was quickly regretting), but even if he had, he wasn't sure his hands would be willing to speak for him either. All forms of effective communication were stolen from him.

He had less than a month before he was supposed to be in the MIT dorms and starting class. 90% of his prereqs required group discussion and verbal participation, so Peter was well and truly fucked if he couldn't figure this out.

Besides, what superhero couldn't talk? How lame was that? Half of his whole schtick was sassy one-liners. At this point, Spiderman was becoming synonymous with snark!

His first night back in May's apartment, he cried himself to sleep thinking about it. This sudden feeling - all grief and loss and shattered expectations he didn't even know he had... his whole world was suddenly gone, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.

The worst part?

He didn't even have the words to ask for help.

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

~~*~~

Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.”

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

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allmights-right-boob · 3 years

Text

Not fic: Cursed Twilight addition

So I’m about to have my BNHA rights revoked but I just finished Midnight Sun (at the time when I started writing this) and started thinking about the characters and that Rosalie and Bakugo are weirdly similar so now here I am outlining a Twilight Au that no one asked for (except me but I’m garbage) that I will never write because I can’t focus long enough to write an actual story (fun fact this outline is taking months to complete). To be honest though this is more of a background on all the characters as opposed to an outline of the Twilight story (oops) which may or may not come later. Author’s notes are in parenthesis if you haven’t figured that out.

Basically I’m replacing Twilight characters with BNHA characters, not everyone will have the same back story, it’ll be blended(future me: um so that was a lie). Everyone’s quirks are still mostly the same but as their vampire gift with some variation to fit the word. It still takes place in the Pacific north-west because I’m not super sure if there’s a place as cloudy as there in Japan besides the mountains like Mt.Fuji (but that’s more misty I think) but there’s too many people around places like that I feel. But then again I’m not actually writing this whole fic so you’re welcome to imagine them still in Japan. If I did write this as a fic I would actually do proper research to decide where to put them but meh, this is a not-fic. As it is I’m calling the town it would take place in Forks/Crossroads cause that would be a cool alternative name. The backgrounds take place all over the word but I never actually say where. My bad.

Also if you do read this I love you very much and I am so sorry, this is ramble-y and has way too many run-on sentences and is written as if I were speaking to you as opposed to an actual written story. It’s also taken so long to complete things I wasn’t sure about in the beginning become solidified later but it’s also written out of order so probably reads really bad. Again my apologies.

So the characters are as follows:

The Olympic Coven/Cullens - The Might Coven/Aizawa-Yagis

Carlisle Cullen- Toshinori Yagi

So obviously I made Toshi Carlisle because suave blond everyone loves is both of their MO. Toshi is probably around 500 years old and like Carlisle was turned while hunting vampires. I still want him to have two forms but I’m not entirely sure how to do that within the confines of the Twilight universe. Maybe he was injured in a battle where he literally lost parts of himself and can’t fully heal so he’s become weak but still can’t die? He’s a doctor but might be semi-retired because of his injury, the cover story is an undisclosed chronic illness. He’s also a part time stay at home dad. He definitely used his vampirism to help and protect humans in the past.

Probably had a coven when he was younger with Nana and Torino but Nana was killed and Torino sent Toshi away for his own safety. He may or may not have started out as vegetarian, I can see Nana as veg or only eats bad people, Torino is an eats bad guys type but will eat anyone when pressed. Toshi either started out as a vegetarian before meeting Nana or if she found him immediately and took him in he would go animal based pretty quickly, She always respected his lifestyle. Grand Torino respects it to an extent but now that Toshi is hurt wants him to drink from humans because he thinks it’ll help Toshinori heal or at least be better for his body. He was in his 40s when turned.

Esme Cullen- Shouta Aizawa

It should surprise literally no one that I’m making this Erasermight because I am soft for my boys and anything is an excuse to ship them. Shouta is honestly the person who has taken the longest to work out along with Shinsou. Like so, so, long. These two are also related, they’re cousins or uncle/nephew or something. They’re also the most different from their counterparts, probably because it’s taken so long for me to work their stories out I’ve just completely changed them from original Twilight.

So the time period is really vague with him, it’s either the late 1800s or WWI. Hitoshi was an orphan around the age of 12 and Shouta his guardian is 30-31. Either way there was a war (and I looked at the wars in the second half of the 1800s, it’s just so many wars. What is wrong with this world?) and it could have easily been the civil war (and if so they were Unionist, obviously.) But wherever he and Hitoshi lived there was a war happening and he was probably not in the army at the time, just protecting his home and neighbors. At the same time Toshinori and Izuku were in the area trying to help civilians because wars suck and they’re basically un-killable so they can help and with the chaos of everything if someone started to suspect something of them they could fake their deaths and leave. And they probably did. But while traveling through they stop in a town/village and meet Shouta and Hitoshi.

Shouta is his gruff no nonsense self and Hitoshi is a little in awe of Yagi because this is still pre-injury so he’s this huge imposing man who’s gentle and knowledgeable about medicine. Eventually even Shouta comes around to liking Yagi, who has the nickname All Might because of his strength, even though he thinks his over the top enthusiasm in front of others is exhausting. In private Toshi ends up letting his guard and persona down with Aizawa because he realizes he doesn’t have to keep it up, he doesn’t need to make Aizawa like and trust him the way he does with the others, it’s just natural the way they click. Toshi probably fell in love first, vampires fall in love fast and long and all encompassing in a way that if they were human would be rather unhealthy (and probably is anyway because this is fiction but I don’t really care because this is fiction and I relate to unhealthy love way too much). Shouta was more reserved because he is a cautious man by nature and probably loves in a similar but more healthy way to vampires, long and devoted, but he must be careful to whom he gives his heart. I still don’t think he meant to fall for Toshinori, loving a man in the time that they lived was dangerous and inadvisable if one could avoid it. But Toshinori Yagi is the kind of man one cannot help but loving.

They didn’t tell each other how they felt though. A few months after Izuku and Toshinori’s arrival there was an attack on the town, Hitoshi they found safe but Toshinori caught wind of Shouta’s scent and followed, finding him mortally wounded. Desperate to keep him Toshi turned him and split off from Izuku and Hitoshi while Shouta adjusted to vampire life. They quickly became lovers, though Shouta had a brief stint as a human blood drinker as revenge for the destruction of his village. But it started to test their relationship and in the end Toshi and his own morals were more important to him than human blood. The four of them reunite a year later and they try to keep their relationship a secret but both of the boys figure it out pretty quickly. Izuku accepts it immediately because his dad is finally with someone and is happy while it takes Hitoshi a bit of time because period typical homophobia and it’s going to take a while for Yagi to earn his trust back after turning Aizawa in front of him.

Aizawa has an erasure power same as in canon. Since he doesn’t need to blink he’s a bit op but opponents who are faster than his eyes can track and multiple opponents are his weaknesses. He’s a history teacher at Forks/Crossroads high but purposefully does not have his own kids as students. He’s a mystery to most of his colleagues who probably haven’t even figured out he’s got five kids in the school.

Rosalie Hale- Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo has a pretty similar start to Rosalie but because what happened to her is so awful and I have problems doing that even to fictional characters that part is different. He’s still a rich kid from the early 20th century, probably turned in the 1920s, but he and his explosive temperament pissed off the wrong people who jumped him in an alley and beat him almost to death, like actually thought he was dead so they left him there (I know this isn’t that much better than what happened to Rose but man she had a horrific end to her human life). He was around 17-18 when he was turned.

While human he had met Dr. Yagi, who was probably treating one of his parents for a chronic ailment, along with his son Izuku and his ‘companion’ Aizawa and Aizawa’s ward Hitoshi. All of the others gave him the creeps but Izuku was a relatively normal boy, a bit younger than himself and accompanied his father when visiting the Bakugos. Their relationship is pretty much the same as canon where Izuku likes Bakugo a lot and Bakugo is nothing but awful to him. They end up with a sort of ‘I hate you but you’re my best friend’ relationship except neither actually hates the other. When Yagi finds Bakugo half dead in an alley he turns him because he was weirdly fond of the angry young man and more so because he thought that the relationship between the two boys was growing into something more, he and Izuku hadn’t talked about it, as he was waiting for his son to come to him, and he didn’t have time to ask. He realizes later that no, Katsuki and Izuku are not star crossed lovers like he and Shouta but he can’t say he regrets turning Bakugo other than Bakugo’s own hatred of being a vampire. He loves his angry son okay.

Bakugo had a life goal which was probably taking over the family business though based off canon that would be fashion and I can’t see him interested in that. Whatever it was he was pursuing it with the same single mindedness that he possesses for heroism and since he can no longer achieve his goals as a vampire he resents it along with the fact that the decision to become a vampire or die a human was taken away from him. He does have a good relationship with Toshinori and Shouta even though he still acts like a brat. His cover story is that he’s Toshinori’s cousin’s son and is an orphan who they took in. He kept his family’s name.

Like a number of vampires Bakugo has a talent or gift. His is his incredibly powerful and dangerous explosion ability. He can cause explosions from his palms. So far the League has not discovered him but everyone worries that one day they will and the Might Coven will be hunted and slaughtered for Bakugo’s power.

Emmett Cullen- Eijirou Kirishima

Sometime around the 1930s Bakugo was hunting and found a bleeding almost dead Kirishima. It was either an animal attack like canon or an accident where he fell off a cliff (that feels like something he would do). I don’t think he decided to turn Kirishima, he just smelled blood and lost control. He’s still ashamed about how he reacted to this day as he’s typically better than that around humans. Luckily the others were hunting with him and were able to pull Bakugo off. He’s never held what Bakugo did against him and his enthusiasm and friendship actually endeared him to Katsuki despite his guilt. Eijirou was turned at 19 and has never had issues with being a vampire, it sucks that he had to leave his human family behind but he loves his vampire one just as much and he got the love of his life out of it. It took awhile but Katsuki and Eijirou eventually admit their feelings and they start dating. They’ve been married a few times now because Bakugo is extra and Eijirou loves confessing his love.

With Kirishima’s gift it doesn’t work the same as in cannon where you can tell it’s activated. In fact they still might not know Kiri has a gift or if they do it’s only a suspicion. He’s just harder than the other marble like vampires. Where the others have almost certainly had mild injuries (mostly from Bakugo’s explosions) like cracks that heal immediately, Eijirou has never been injured as a vampire. At all. He’s also immensely strong, because he was as a human, and that has been enhanced but he’s nowhere near as strong as Toshi was pre-injury. His cover story is he’s a foster kid they took in and he keeps the last name Kirishima.

Alice Cullen- Denki Kaminari

Like Alice Denki spent the end of his human life in an insane asylum (I refer to it as such because these were not hospitals and more like institutions of torture). I honestly can’t figure out if mental health care was so bad in the early/mid 20th century that a 15-16 year old boy with ADHD being sent to one is unrealistic or not. I’m pretty sure it was similar to Alice where he saw something he shouldn’t and was put in it to silence him.( I should probably figure out what that was sometime) Either way that’s where he ended up and of course he had to deal with electroshock ‘therapy’ which both severely messed with his memory and sorta brought out a natural resistance and even control over electricity, so he had to receive stronger and stronger sessions. This manifested in Denki’s electric power when he was turned into a vampire.

While hunting in the woods surrounding the institution, Hitoshi spotted Denki in the window and was instantly taken by the boy with eyes as golden as his inhuman family’s. He would make trips by the asylum just to get a glimpse and eventually took a night job there to meet him against his family’s advice. When they met Denki recognized him despite how careful, and honestly far away, Hitsohi had been and instead of being creeped out he was happy just to make a new friend. They would talk as long as they could and Hitoshi would bring Denki little bits of the outside world like flowers or decent snacks. And he would take care of Kaminari when his ‘therapies’ would leave him incapacitated and the nursing staff would neglect him.

Even after his family moved away to a location where the weather suited them better Hitoshi stayed working at the asylum not willing to leave Denki to his fate there (And to note this is around the time the others realized how serious Hitoshi’s feelings are and start planning how to help Kaminari or bring him into the family. Before this they were starting to suspect but kinda thought he was being weird about a guy he saw in a window. To be fair though he was being weird about a guy he saw in a window.) One night after an ice bath ‘treatment’ Denki developed a fever and over the course of a few days had full blown pneumonia. In his delirium he confessed his feelings to Shinsou who reciprocated and decided he would steal Denki away when he knew the trip back to his family wouldn’t kill the sick boy. Of course being a poorly run and over populated institution his condition was overlooked and ignored especially since a ‘specialist’ was coming to perform procedures on several patients, aka some guy with no degree was going to lobotomize as many people as he could fit into one day. Shinsou didn't find out until he came in that night and found out Kaminari was already in the procedure room. He flipped out and killed most of the staff there and took a severely injured Denki home to Toshinori in the hopes of saving him.

The change seemed to take longer than it had for the others but does end up working, though when he finally comes to Denki is much more quiet and subdued and remembers almost nothing about his past. All he knows is his name, Hitoshi’s name, and that he loves him. He also has weird headaches periodically for decades later and slowly becomes more like himself before the lobotomy. He never fully recovers his memories, a bit here and a piece there, all moments shared with Hitoshi. He decides he doesn’t need the rest, everything he needs is here and in his future with his family.

His cover story is typically as a foster kid so he keeps his last name Kaminari. Sometimes he decides to change things up and goes as a Yagi or even Bakugo’s brother when Katsuki is feeling generous.

Jasper Hale- Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi’s early years were spent in his small town or village (I think the difference is size but I’m american and I don’t think we have villages no matter how small a place is so...) Everything was uneventful up until the war, I don’t know which war, civil war in US or WWI in Europe, but around the age of 12 his village was destroyed, his guardian was turned into a vampire and he had to go live with Izuku while Aizawa learned to manage his bloodlust. During that time he and Izuku grew really close and even now they have the most brotherly relationship out of all the siblings.

So after a year the four reunite with a vampire Shouta and an overly protective Izuku and a very weary Hitoshi. Everything goes on as it did for Toshinori and Izuku before they split but now with their two new additions. Yagi gives Hitoshi the best education he can without sending him to boarding school although they had discussed it. They were in a precarious position with a human boy knowing their vampire secret and they couldn’t run the risk of news getting back to the League, the governing body of vampires run by a mysterious head known only as All for One.

Years pass but unfortunately news of the Might Coven’s human pet gets back to the League and due to past history involving Nana and Toshi, AfO comes himself to deal with the situation and brings his two most powerful underlings, his adopted son and second in command Tomura Shigaraki and . A fight between Yagi and All for One happens and AfO rips out a piece of Toshi’s side and Toshi ends up crushing AfO’s head, killing him (maybe but probably not). Tomura, who had been fighting against Shouta and Toga who battled Izuku, realize they can’t win.

Now the vampire known as All Might is pretty popular amongst his kind but the Might Coven was at the time nowhere near strong enough or influential enough to fill the void that would be left by the dissolution of the League, which would happen if they killed all three of the vampires there. So they took a gamble and spared Shigaraki and Toga thinking their loyalty to AfO was limited, since most vampires don’t form bonds the way ‘vegetarians’ seem to, and that they would be happy with their promotion. They also agreed at Hitoshi’s insistence that he would be turned so they would no longer have a human knowing the secret about vampires. So Yagi turns Hitoshi and they let Toga and Shigaraki go and continue about their lives as much as they can with Toshinori’s injury.

Just like the rest of his family, Shinsou's quirk is the same as canon. If someone answers his question he can control their minds. It’s probably a little stronger than in canon too, at least against humans. Vampires have better resistance. His cover story is the most truthful, he’s Shouta’s orphan relative. He sometimes takes on Aizawa’s last name though in this school he decided to use his original.

Edward Cullen- Izuku Midoriya

The more I plot this out the more I’m taking Twilight, stripping it down to the bare outline, and making it into something totally different. Like the only similarities are Izuku and Shoto’s relationship follows Bella and Edwards, somewhat. Izuku is the tanned skinned, freckled, green eyed boy in a family of pale golden eyed outsiders. He seems completely human even to other vampires, til you get him in the sunlight where he literally shines.

I’m not sure when Izuku was born, maybe the 1700s, but he was still the first of the Might Coven besides Toshinori. Sometime after Nana’s death Toshi finds an ailing pregnant woman named Inko Midoriya who’s bizarre husband still hasn’t come home from his business trip to a foreign country. She’s convinced she is going to die before he returns and her pregnancy is so hard and so seemingly fast but her baby feels strong enough to survive so she begs Toshinori to please take care of her son till his father returns. Inko dies before she can give birth to her baby so Toshinori takes the baby out himself as a last ditch effort but there’s something not right, not with the baby or the amniotic sac that’s almost as hard as Toshinori himself. And when the sun shines through the window Toshinori’s arm glimmers and so does the new born baby. Dread at the thought that he’s holding an immortal child wells in him but he’s never heard of an immortal child being born and he’s especially never heard of a vampire with a heart beat. So against his better judgement he takes the child and runs, he can’t wait for Inko’s husband, and he can’t risk someone seeing the child and reporting back to the League. So he and Izuku, a name Inko had picked out before her death, stay on the run for years as the boy grew until he was at an appropriate age to be around at least vampire kind. Conveniently the half vampire boy doesn’t need blood to survive and seems to have very little if any bloodlust at all. Or so it seemed.

Now some differences I’m making will be Izuku’s aging. I know Rennesme ages fast and stops when she looks 21-25 but I’m thinking Izuku either ages very slowly or stopped when he looks closer to 15-18? Probably the first one. Also I think male half-vamps have red/gold eyes but Izuku has green because I said so.

His cover story is that he's Toshinori’s son from a previous relationship. They tried to call him a foster child in the past but they’re too close and Izuku uses Toshinori’s given name and dad interchangeably. He likes to use his mom’s last name as a way to honor her. Not every school but it is a pretty common thing for him to do and he’s using it in Forks/Crossroads this year. He doesn’t seem to have a gift but he’s a half vampire, his presence is a gift.

Humans

Bella Swan- Shoto Todoroki

Time for ‘technically main character number two but I preferred everyone else in Twilight over Edward and Bella so he and Izuku get put down lower on the list’. So Todoroki and Bella’s similarities are: new kid comes to live with other parent after the parent they lived with got married. I really don’t think there’s a lot else similar? But Bella doesn’t have that much back story to begin with.

So Shoto’s parents grew up in Forks/Crossroads but moved somewhere sunnier before he was born. He grew up in a city, maybe Phoenix (almost certainly Phoenix for the name alone). His parents had an unhappy marriage but I honestly don’t think it was full on abuse, I feel like Enji still neglected them but never physically or verbally hurt anyone. And since Shoto moves back in with Rei I don’t think she gave him his scar either, I think it was an accident where young Shoto pulled maybe a hot kettle onto himself? It probably was the catalyst for his parents divorce but ultimately that was happening either way. Both parents blamed the other for his accident but I think the courts realized it was just that, an accident, maybe some negligence (I don’t really know how custody courts work and what happens when a kid gets hurt and this isn’t a real fic so I’m not researching) but either way Enji gets Shoto (maybe all the kids but Rei gets visitation, comes down for the summer like Charlie? Kids go up there for vacation and holiday? Or split the kids 50/50? No idea this is still more backstory than Bella got) Enji is still a workaholic and Toya ends up running away/leaving probably shortly after the divorce anyway and Fuyumi and Natsuo eventually leave for college and are still closer to Rei even if they lived with their dad.

So when Enji gets remarried Shoto asks to move in with his mom since she’s all alone and Enji wouldn’t be and ‘wouldn’t it be nice to just be two newly weds with the house to themselves’. He makes a very convincing case and Enji is trying to let his youngest make his own choices so he agrees. Shoto moves north and it isn’t the worst, he likes both the heat and the cold unlike his parents, Rei hates the heat and Enji hates the cold. School is weird because people actually want to be his friend; there’s a group of stoic, pale, intimidating students he’s 90% sure are vampires; and there’s a beautiful boy who hangs out with them who looks partially horrified and disgusted by him, or like he wants to eat him alive, literally.

Renee Dwyer- Enji Todoroki (Technically)

So I ended up making Enji considerably less awful.

After the divorce Enji figures out his sexuality and eventually starts dating a much younger model who goes by Hawks after he saves him from a burning building (Enji is a firefighter). Shoto offers to move in with Rei after Hawks and Enji get married, he has nothing against Hawks and they get along as well as can be expected but they are newly weds and Enji might be going into semi retirement to travel with Hawks for his career. And the thought of being around his dad so much, who can get a little overbearing when not working, is just not something Shoto wants to deal with. Though it is weird his dad is married to someone so much younger, Shoto knows several other people in his class in Phoenix whose dads did similar and they cheated on their wives and didn’t even have a sexuality crisis in their forties so he’s letting his dad slide on this. Shoto definitely has a better relationship with Enji in this than canon Shoto but they don’t have Enji’s shity eugenics baggage here either. Overall Enji in this is just a neglectful workaholic who’s learning to work on himself with the guidance of the love of his life and is letting Shoto make his own decisions like living with his mom and this is all growth.

Charlie Swan- Rei Todoroki (Technically)

So Rei after the divorce moves back home because she hates Phoenix and hot weather. Maybe she gets custody in the summer or has Fuyumi and Natsuo since Toya took off and they split the kids? (I still haven’t decided how the custody went with those two but they don’t live in Forks/Crossroads or Phoenix so it doesn’t matter.)

After returning home she either started working at or opened up a yarn shop, I see her enjoying needle craft and she’s definitely not a sheriff type. She’s just a quiet, keeps to herself woman with a few close friends; children mostly grown and just happy to spend more time with her youngest.

Phil Dwyer- Keigo Takami

He’s a model who gets saved by Enji when his apartment burns down. He offers to take Enji to dinner and keeps offering to reward him until at Moe’s insistence Enji agrees. They hit it off and the rest is history.

Things I would have said in the tags but there’s a limit so I put the actual important stuff there and ramblings here:

It took me three weeks to finish this (midnight sun) audiobook. I literally drive for a living and couldn’t finish it in less than the entirety of my library rental time. Jake Able deserves more money.

I have read twilight three times now and it never gets easier. Yes I do have terrible taste.

I hope someone reads this. It took like three months to finish this post. I still have so much in my head. I haven’t even started talking about the League. Please ask questions, I want to actually write this but my brain won’t let me write full fics so this is what we get.

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Louis Punishments | Mature | 1759 words

Just a bunch of punishments Harry has given to Louis.

2) Hoping To Discover A Certain Kind Of Lover | Explicit | 2353 words

He knew the basic idea of what was supposed to happen. It was the entire point of the film Zayn was working on. To match up unmated alpha and omega strangers and to film them as they kissed for the first time. The two of them shuffled awkwardly back and forth, unsure of what to do.

Enough was enough. “I’m gonna just go for it, yeah?” Harry suggested, and Louis nodded quickly, already leaning closer to him.

Everything was hesitant at first. Tender lips met, and all of it was soft and new, neither of them wanting to overstep. A little zing of anticipation and something unfamiliar shot down Harry’s spine as he swallowed the tiny sound of surprise Louis made. Neither alpha nor omega were pushing, but that was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? To see what happened when people let go and let themselves be? Harry figured he would try. For the sake of the experiment, of course.

Gently, so, so gently, Harry slid his hand up the side of Louis’s throat, cupping his jaw to hold him as close as he could. Their lips finally, finally, finally parted, and Harry could taste the hint of tea and honey lingering on Louis’s tongue. Suddenly and all at once, he couldn’t get enough.

3) Irresistible | Mature | 2380 words

Louis goes into his first heat at school and no one is able to resist him. Harry - who's been in love with him since forever - fucks and bonds him in the toilets.

4) Signed, No Name | Mature | 4647 words

Harry doesn’t know Blue, he just knows that he leaves random notes in the corners of the books he checks out, and he’s head over heels for him.

5) It Could've Been Worse | Not Rated | 4949 words

The one where a pandemic happens, harry is obssessed and louis hates apps made for 15 years old.

6) Take Me To The Stars | Explicit | 5840 words

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

7) Kiss Like Fire | Explicit | 9093 words

Harry watches as his uncle's new omega walks around the backyard, serving canapés and drinks to all of the family members gathered. Harry is surrounded by his cousins, all sat together, too young for the adults but too old for the kids and teens. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip when the omega crouches down by one of Harry's younger cousins and hands her a small cracker, sending her off with a sweet smile.

He watches as his uncle comes out of the house, sliding the patio door shut behind him and quickly making his way over to his omega. The omega looks up at him when he wraps an arm around his waist. His pretty lips move with soft-spoken words. Harry has to fight to keep his alpha in check when his dirty old uncle's hand dips down, grabbing at the omega's ass and making him jump.

"Dude," one of his cousins says, "Uncle Darron's new omega is such a milf."

8) Waking Up Alone | Mature | 10060 words

"Nothing makes you hurt like hurting who you love"

Love shouldn't hurt, loving somebody with everything you have shouldn't make you feel like you're dying. Louis feels like he’s drowning. He should have known where this was going from the start, he should have been prepared. Now he’s waking up in an empty bed, some days he doesn’t want to even wake up again. There's a hole in his heart; it's in the shape of Harry. Nothing he does can fill it. Drugs, alcohol, pouring out his heart into songs that Harry probably won't ever hear. When Louis is with him, he feels like he’s in heaven. Being alone, that's what he feels he deserves, at least Harry can be happier without him.

Maybe if they met at a different time, under different circumstances, he could have saved them. Louis had to do what was best for Harry, but it kills him a little everyday. Louis sees his smile everyday, but he knows it's no longer for him. Someone else makes Harry happier, but Louis wanted it to be him. They could have had forever. Louis would have given Harry everything.

"Forget what I said, it's not what I meant" Harry had tried to say, but Louis knew that wasn't the truth. After everything they’ve been through, Louis still loves him.

9) To The Beat Of My Own Drum | Explicit | 10285 words

A collection of drabbles.

10) Alone Too Long | Explicit | 10371 words

By the time The Temptress finally reached bay, the Captain only had one thing on his mind, and that one thing was Louis Darling.

11) Straight Boy | Explicit | 12251 words

Young, brunette and handsome, Louis attracts unwanted attention in prison. When his cellmate offers him protection, Louis accepts the offer, even though he doesn’t trust the guy. Little does he know how much it will change his life.

When he’s released from prison, Louis finds himself needing and wanting things he shouldn’t want. Louis is straight. He is. He has a girlfriend. What happened in prison stayed in prison—or so Louis tells himself.

Until he meets his former cellmate again. Harry. The guy he hates and craves.

12) Beautiful Crime | Not Rated | 13282 words

Note: This fic contins no explicit smut but since it’s a/b/o we’ve decided to include it in this monthly roundup.

Louis is keen to defeat the one and only Alpha Harry Styles who has a notorious reputation in the entire country for his ruthlessness but a turn of events brings them on crossroads which deviate from their havens of war.

13) Anticipation | Explicit | 14156 words

Louis' a stripper. Harry's the new club owner. Louis decides he wants to get in his new boss' pants fairly quickly, but it might take more work than he thought to do that.

14) Strong Enough | Explicit | 20787 words

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad it’s Liam that's dragging the subject out from the shadows and into the light. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. Liam takes a deep breath. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

15) Alpha and Omega | Not Rated | 22270 words

Note: There is no smut where someone bottoms in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis finds a new sense of self when the son of the werewolf leader, Harry Styles, comes to town to quell unrest in the Chicago pack and inspires a power in Louis that he never felt before.

Not my own work but rather a reimagination of the book Alpha and Omega with Harry and Louis.

16) Amazing Grace | Mature | 24290 words

Harry’s a dedicated pastor who's happily married, Louis is the troubled youth that stumbles into his life.

17) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27083 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

18) Just a Bit Twisted | Explicit | 30548 words

Professor Harry Styles is hated and feared by all of his students. Strict, reserved and ruthless, he doesn’t tolerate mistakes and has little patience for his students.

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-year-old struggling to provide for his younger sisters after the death of their parents. On the verge of losing his scholarship, Louis becomes desperate enough to go to Professor Styles.

Everyone says Styles doesn’t have a heart. Everyone says he’s a ruthless bastard. Louis finds out that everyone is right.

He strikes a deal with Styles, but unexpectedly, the deal turns into something so much more.

Something all-consuming and addictive.

Something neither of them wants.

19) Like It's A Game | Explicit | 32223 words

There is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

20) We'll Be the Fine Line | Not Rated | 32474 words

“…Hey, Harry. It’s Louis…… um, yeah. Listened to the album tonight. It’s real good mate. Um, yeah, just real, impressed. I was kinda putting it off, ya’know, didn’t know if I wanted to listen to it. Saw you went on James and, uh, Saturday Night Live. Couldn’t watch you, have a hard time watching you on these things……. Anyway, mate, just thought I would drop a line. Don’t need to call me back. Alright.”

Louis listens to Fine Line, and, drunk, he leaves a voicemail for Harry after months of not speaking. This reminds Harry of a time before everything fell apart, slowly, painfully, a time when the two of them were still in love. And he desperately wants to go back.

21) The Space Between | Explicit | 33074 words

Living in East Verona was a privilege. One Prince Harry only found out when he decided to cross the borders into The Zone looking for entertainment, a temptation, a distraction, anything that would allow him to escape his boring, mundane life of luxury.

But what he found was something he never could have expected - poverty, destruction, chaos, but most importantly, a blue-eyed boy.

Together, they embark on a journey plagued with hazards and risks and twists and turns.

Can these two star-crossed souls fight for their freedom and keep each other safe at the same time?

22) Yes, Daddy, I Will | Not Rated | 33510 words

Where Harry is a dom and Louis is his cute little sub.

23) Last Blues For Bloody Knuckles | Explicit | 34241 words

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

24) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39593 words

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

25) Hit Me With Your Sweet Love | Explicit | 39690 words

Powerful people only end up with powerful people. The rest are just playthings in their lives. Louis Tomlinson was many things, but he wasn’t anybody’s plaything.

26) Stole My Heart | Mature | 51343 words

Louis doesn't want much. A warm bed, and people who care about him.

Harry has everything he needs, despite his mother insisting he needs a mate. Money, status, and any omega he wants, why lock his heart down.

Until Louis comes along, and steals it.

27) No Going Back | Explicit | 56102 words

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

28) Royal Desires | Mature | 66207 words

When Prince Louis falls into an early heat, his new personal guard Harry Styles is brought in as his heat partner for the time being until Louis finds a suitable royal prince to bond and take the throne with. The only problem is that Harry is everything Louis wants but can't have. Freedom, tattoos, individuality...and quite possibly love.

29) How To Break A Heartbreaker's Heart? | Teen & Up | 67447 words

Harry is straight.

Louis is gay.

Harry happens to be homophobic.

Louis has a dark past.

Harry had a dark childhood.

Will Louis and Harry unite and defy their past? Or will homophobia win for the umpteenth time?

30) Lavender Dreams | Not Rated | 77888 words

Louis is an outgoing person that goes to school for educational psychology and Harry is a biology major who happen to run into each other... a lot.

31) Be My Omega | Mature | 138372 words

It all started when the alpha laid eyes on the short curvy omega and he knew at that moment that his life would never be the same, in a good way of course.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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littleaclove · 3 years

Text

Character: Matsukawa

Prompt: Secret Admirer

Letter:

So uh I don’t exactly know how to start this but uhm hi? I just wanted to y’know talk to you without confronting you because you’ll be too blinded by my gorgeous looks. I just wanted to kinda convey my feelings that have been building up for a while I guess? Uh just so you’re not too creeped out that I’m a 50 year old kidnapper I was one of your lab partners this year and I just adored you and developed feelings. Sorry if I’m pushing boundaries but I just wanted to get it out there. Also if you don’t return a letter within a week uh I’ll give up on it I guess? I don’t really know. If you want to y’know reply just leave the letter in locker 108 and I’ll grab it from there. Or leave it on a bench in the volleyball gym. You could always come and admire me from there ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) If I get a letter back we can meet someplace if you'd like but if you don't then at least you took the time to read this. And uh yeah that's about it. I just wanted to convey the message that I like you and it would be great to ask you out in person.

Signed,

That really hot guy that has a huge crush on you

Drabble:

Music while writing you accepted: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift, Sunkissed by khai dreams, I Like Me Better by Lauv, Get Used to It by Ricky Montgomery, This Town by Niall Horn, Home for the Summer by Sara Kays, 18 by One Direction, My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery, Night Changes by One Direction, Captivated by IV Of Spades, Cherry Flavoured by The Neighborhood, Photograph by Ed Sheeran, Loverboy by A-Wall, Ride Home by Ben&Ben, Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez, Best Friend by Rex Orange County, Video Games by The Young Professionals, Tongue Tied by Grouplove, Somewhere Only We Know by Reneé Dominique, California by Ricky Montgomery

Music while writing you didn’t accept it: They Don’t Know About Us by One Direction, Fall by Ben&Ben, Riptide by Vance Joy, Someone to you by BANNERS, Lookalike by Conan Gray, Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery, I Can't Help Falling in Love with You by Haley Reinhart, Lifetime by Ben&Ben, This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory, Could I Love You Any More by Reneé Dominique (feat. Jason Mraz)

You sent a letter back!:

Your heart races when you read the letter and you know that this person is just a whole casserole drive and a half. You go home that night thinking of all the possibilities and what you’re going to write in that letter. You wake up the next morning, head filled with excitement and curiosity. You trudge to school though, dreading the hell you have to endure everyday, but today you feel just the slightest bit lighter on your feet. You go on about your day, while Matsukawa looked in the locker to see that there’s nothing there (y/n is just giving me such dumb bitch energy istg). He deflated a little bit, but still had a lot of hope that you’d return his letter! The team asked about it when he’d gotten to their afternoon practice and he just ever so slightly felt a bit more disappointed. On the other hand, you went home so very excited and ready to write them a letter! You get all the supplies ready and start pouring your reciprocated feelings onto the paper. You seal the envelope and put it aside for tomorrow. You feel the sunlight slip through your blinds and start to get ready for the day. You grab your envelope containing all the feelings you have towards this person and head out the door. Once you start on your way to school, you start to feel your hands get a bit sweaty and feel the nervousness swell up inside you knowing you’ll be meeting this secret admirer soon. You leave the letter on one of the benches in the boy’s volleyball gym and set on your way to class. You keep trying to focus on the lesson but the curiosity of whom this person who sent you the letter is, is overwhelming your thoughts. Matsukawa goes to afternoon practice when he sees the team snickering around Hanamaki. Matsukawa goes over to see what they’re laughing about when he sees a letter. He immediately swipes it out of Hanamaki’s hands, ignoring the team’s coos. He carefully opens the letter, not wanting to rip what’s inside. He reads what’s inside and his eyes light up noticeably. He keeps it safe in a pocket in his gym bag and carries on with their practice with a new found light-heartedness. When you go home, you do all of your homework to keep your mind off of the anxiety of them seeing what you’d written and deciding that they didn’t like you now. You fall asleep that night with excitement and anxiety clouding your mind. Matsukawa is now writing what’s a shorter version of the first letter along with where and when to meet each other tomorrow. The next day, he slips it into your locker and swiftly walks to class so that you two don’t meet before the time. You quickly read it before class starts with a huge grin on your face. Today you couldn’t focus on anything but this meeting all day. You finish classes with a sigh of relief. Finally, it’s time to meet each other! You pretty much ran to the spot you’re going to meet at and end up getting there just on time. As you come up to the spot you see a füçking tree of a man standing there. So that’s why he’s on a volleyball team. You approach him slowly, not knowing exactly what to do now that you’re actually here. He turns in your direction and his eyes light up as soon as he spots you, already knowing who you are.

“Hey, y/n..!”

Him being his awkward self in this situation, you start bursting into laughter at the situation, since it’s the only way you know how to deal with things like this. He starts laughing along, thankfully. After you both finish you laughing fit, you start the conversation up again.

“Hey! Your name is Matsukawa, right? You were from that one lab we did in science!”

“Uh yeah!”

“Y’know, I did always think you had, to put it in your words, ‘gorgeous looks’.”

“Haha thanks. Do you want to go to a cafe now since we have met now? Think of it like our first date!”

“Oh so this is a date now?” You make the

( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)face.

He rolls his eyes and grabs your hand as you walk to the cafe. You two take a seat all the way in the back and end up becoming official on every platform by the end of the day because you two clicked so well.

You didn’t feel the same way:

You read through the letter kind of confused as to who this person is and how they fell for you without even holding a conversation, or one that you remember, with you. You kind of just disregard it, remembering that the mystery person said that you didn’t have to leave a letter if you didn’t reciprocate these feelings. You continue on like nothing really happened, a tinge of guilt bubbling in the back of your mind that they’d be checking for a whole week, just to realize that you didn’t feel the same way. Meanwhile, Matsukawa’s heart was beating louder than life. He has high hopes that you’ll return a mysterious note right back to him. The team was trying to hype him up in their own interesting ways (*cough cough* oikawa saying that he probably flirted with this person and saying that he’s surprised he’s able to steal that spotlight *COUGH COUGH COUGH*). He now has a good feeling about this letter that he sent you. The next day he checks thoroughly through the whole gym, plus all throughout his locker, to no avail. He steals glances through the day to see if anything has changed yet. He thinks that you maybe just need a little more time. After all, he did give you a week to write and leave your letter back to him. Despite that, he still has this voice nagging in the back of his head that you truly don’t feel the same way. This continues on the whole week, his hope quickly dissipating. By Friday, he’s just stopped checking, knowing he’s in an unrequited love. His team consoles him, not knowing who he has his one-sided love with, but still wanting to help. He now just glances at you from afar, silently cheering for you if anything goes your way, and telepathically comforting you if you’re down. You don’t even acknowledge him, not knowing he’s the one who sent you that, though he still desperately tries to subtly get your attention, whether that be getting the top score, winning a volleyball match, or maybe passing you by a little too frequently. By the end of the year, and the end of high school for the both of you, you two go your separate ways, him only hoping that you two meet again and he can have another chance at asking you out, maybe in person this time. That way he can get the confirmation or rejection up front, rather than waiting and killing any of his lasting hope. When high school got out, he longed for any sort of contact with you, but little by little he’s now forgetting about you and moving on from his high school sweetheart who never knew him.

Word count: 1650

a/n: I’m sorry for the amount of ‘uhm’s in his letter that’s just me being awkward and not knowing how to write-

#mattsun #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa angst

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strangest-loser · 4 years

Text

Twilight Rewrite

Fire in my Blood ~ Jasper Hale X OC ~ Book Two - Chapter Two

Book One // Chapter One

This chapter is for @whattheheckisevengoingon because babe gets all my references. Also there is smut so if that makes you uncomfortable then read down to the barrier, skipping that part of the story wont affect the rest of the plot.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Contrary to what the government wants you to believe faking your death and moving across the country with a new identity is not as hard as you might think, especially when you are an immortal vampire and your new adoptive father knows a guy. Alessia had always wanted to live in New York, and even though it wasn’t the city... Ithaca was beautiful.

Ever since she was a little girl she had wanted to audition for the New York City Ballet and even though she couldn’t live out that dream anymore the view from the small house she found with Jasper still made her extremely happy every time she saw it. As much as the two of them loved their family the decision to move into their own place was an obvious one. The only place the two wanted to be was in each others arms. Beams of sunlight crept up the bedsheets and reflected thousands of shimmering flecks around the room when it met the bare skin peeking out from the covers. Quiet strings of conversation laced the air as the two talked about anything that came to mind. Jasper would often spend afternoons reading to Alessia, or sometimes Alessia would softly sing to him, and sometimes the only sounds to be heard in the room were the songs playing through the small speaker on the windowsill accompanied with the sighs and laughs that came from a night full of love. It was like they had managed to construct their own piece of heaven for their own damned souls. This is how every day has been spent since the two moved into their small house that was more like a cottage, with one attic/loft bedroom a small kitchen and living room, a study and a big garden and mini greenhouse. It was far removed, on the edge of the woodland, and if you followed the path far enough you would find the much bigger home where the rest of the Cullens resided. To be completely honest it was perfect.

It took about a month before the two were able to pull themselves away from their nest enough to throw on Jackets and boots and step out into the crisp November air. Walking the trail towards the Cullen home Alessia kept her hand tightly laced in Jasper’s own, recounting Halloween night a few days ago when she managed to convince Jasper to wear a cloak and travel into the town square to see the decorations and children's costumes. While being around so many mortals wasn't the easiest thing in the world it was easier when she was there, and he wanted so desperately to get used to it. Having Alessia around made withholding his own urges much easier on Jasper and the two actually managed to enjoy their night.

One of the harder things about her new life was trying to get used to her new name. Keeping Alessia Cullen would have been too obvious and anyone who knew her in her past life would immediately recognize the two names and her cover would be blown. And so the obvious choice was made and Alessia was shortened to Aleah, that’s the name that was printed on a stack of documents in a folder handed to Carlisle by a family friend the day they left Forks, Alessia didn’t know much about him only that Jasper had worked with him before. By far the best thing about the move however, in Alessia’s opinion, was that Edward Cullen was no where to be found.

Nightfall was quickly approaching but the forest was already dark, the trees blocking out any light the sunset was still casting over the town. Alessia smiled dragging a laughing Jasper behind her as she pulled him deeper down the trail that lead to the patch of meadow on the Cullen’s land that Alice told her was the location of the small celebration that she was forcing everyone to attend to spend time as a family. Clingy didn’t even begin to sum up how Jasper and Alessia had been acting since she woke up in her new state, it was so bad they almost didn’t make it but the tree-line gave way to the beautiful sight of candle jars hanging in the surrounding trees and littering the ground to bask the clearing in a beautiful glow, illuminating the wildflowers that laid under their feet.

“Subtle really isn’t in your vocabulary is it”, Jasper called to his sister as the mates walked to the group of the rest of the Cullens standing next to a fire pit, they were clearly the last to arrive. His comment didn’t go unnoticed by his love who elbowed him in the side and gave him a warning gaze to behave, and although he knew it was all playful he found himself following her command without hesitation.

The night was wonderful and it slowly bled into the morning, filled with stories and laughter and love. Alessia began to really feel like she was becoming one of the family. Day broke to Japer and Emmet roughhousing while Carlisle spoke in hushed tones to Esme, loving smiles etches onto both of their porcelain faces, and all three Cullen girls lay in the grass chatting about funny things that they had noticed about their new home, well Alice and Rosalie were talking, Alessia was staring at her man and making it extremely obvious much to the partial awe and mostly disgust of the two girls sitting with her, but she couldn’t help it, her soldier boy had a nice ass.

Later into the morning the family decided to retreat up to the larger house at the end of the trail, far away from the hiking trails and further still from the nearby town. the sunlight reflected Alessia’s cheeks as she stepped onto the front porch swiveling around to wrap her arms around the column of the front steps, letting the sun illuminate her face the warmth soaking into her stone cold skin. It felt amazing and it comforted her when her racing mind brought her thoughts back to home. Letting her feet carry her into the living room she fell onto the couch and into Jaspers arms as Emmet and Rosalie fought over weather to watch Psycho or Pride and Prejudice, they both lost when Alice slid Dead Poets Society into the DVD player and all arguments ceased as the Cullen children settled down to exhaust their movie collection.

That’s how the winter months drifted by for Alessia, any time spent away from the cottage where she lived with Jasper was spent with the Cullens. By the time Christmas time rolled around Alessia managed to get everyone to get into the spirit. Emmet and Carlisle opened the front door lugging a christmas tree into the living room where Esme and Alice were sitting watching Home Alone. An hour later Emmet’s jeep pulled up to the house and Rosalie, Alessia and Jasper began unloading boxes upon boxes of decorations into the room, they made an early morning trip into the city to get enough decorations to properly fill the house with christmas cheer. That night everyone in the family had fun wrapping their tree in white lights with red and gold baubles. Alessia couldn’t keep the massive smile off her lips when she was hoisted onto Jaspers shoulders to place the star on top of the tree. As soon as her feet hit the floor she spun in his arms and kissed him hard. Christmas was special to Alessia because it was a time for family and friends, her Christmases as a child with Charlie were some of the happiest times of her life. She wanted to cry when Carlisle switched on the lights and their golden glow twinkled in her amber eyes. Their happy moment was interrupted when a chime sounded from Alice’s laptop in the corner making Alessia stiffen and pull away from her mate, heartbreak staining her happy emotions as she faded from the room, walking out into the woods ignoring the sympathetic stares from her family. Emails from Bella were extremely painful for Alessia because knowing that her sister was in pain and constantly trying to reach out to them trying to know where they were or if they were ok. The empty woods allowed Alessia’s temper to flare and before she could stop herself she began to lay into a steady old tree, punches splintering the bark until eventually the tall tree was ripped from its stump and thrown across the meadow landing fifty feet away with a crash. She sank to her knees dry heaving and sobs began to wrack her small body while her eyes remained stubbornly bone dry. The fact that Alessia had her family and mortality ripped away from her hit her like a train and she mourned the loss of her old life for the first time since she woke up. An hour passed and snow began to fall catching in her doll like lashes and her chocolate curls as the crunching sound approaching her creeped to a halt. Alessia let Jasper lift her body into his arms and carry her to their small cottage.

The couple laid together while Jasper waited for Alessia to speak, she didn’t. She seemed to deflate before letting her body gravitate towards her love, slotting her body perfectly against his own. Jaspers fingers immediately carded through her hair sending a shiver straight down her spine, no matter how many times they found themselves wrapped around each other the position they were in only got comfier and more natural every time. The stress melted from Alessia’s body with every stroke of Jaspers hand down her back, snuggling her face into her boyfriends neck and locking her arms around his waist fully content to stay where she was until January 30th. Hours past with the couple laying in each others hold before anything was said, Alessia’s soft voice sent soft vibrations against Jaspers neck, “Never leave me... I don’t think my heart could take it.” Her voice was small letting the small 18 year old girl shine through the front of a confident, self assured vampire. Jasper laid small kisses on her head before sliding two fingers under her chin to meet her sad gaze.

“Even death cant take you away from me Darling.”

─ ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ Smut Ahead ─ ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Warmth flooded Alessia’s un-beating heart as she crashed her lips onto Jaspers, the soft cold skin of her fingers sliding along his scar covered arms while Jasper pulled her effortlessly into his lap. The lack of oxygen needed by their lungs allowed them to get completely lost in each other, their lips only separating to allow Jasper to pull her shirt over her head, his lips immediately latching onto her neck forcing a moan to bubble out of her lips. A lot of the first few months of their relationship was spent just like this, mapping out each others bodies and branding every single inch of skin into their minds. Jaspers lips trailed to nip just behind Alessia’s ear, abusing the spot before slowly letting his mouth trail its way down her neck and littering her collarbones with hickeys that would disappear in minutes. Purely pleasured sounds were ripped out of Alessia while she tried to focus long enough to rid herself of the bra that was way too expensive for her liking. Inches of perfect pale skin exposed were soon met with feral kisses from the ex soldier before he slid a hand up to cradle the back of her head and flipped her on her back, leaving her at his mercy before resuming his mission to cover her chest with imperfections, painting his mate with his mark.

This wasn’t how it always went, nothing was ever routine for the two of them. Whenever Jasper stressed himself with nightmares and memories of a past that haunted him nothing felt better to him than handing complete control over to his love and letting her play with him until his muscles felt like jelly and his brain was pumped full of endorphins without having any responsibilities in the moment that didn’t involve following Alessia’s orders, something in his base instincts made it easy to follow her commands, his body following her words without his minds input. “Shit” fell from Alessia’s lips as Jaspers lips closed around her breast, arching her back into his hold while her mind began to cloud over with pleasure. Jasper took over her senses, he was all she could register at that moment, nothing existed outside that bedroom door and nothing else mattered other than the two of them and whatever the hell Jasper was doing with his tongue because sweet jesus!

Alessia’s fingers screwed up in the cotton of the bedsheets beneath her the sensation of her nails scratching the cotton was loud in her overwhelmed mind and her involuntary mewls turned to whimpers as her mate dragged his teeth against the bruises littering her tummy, his fingers fighting with the buttons of her jeans and a frustrated growl escaped his throat when he couldn’t get them open fast enough. Giggles filled the room at his struggle and with Alessia’s assistance and a few more stolen kisses Jasper moved his assault to the bottom of her legs, his kisses following the decent of her jeans before they were tossed into the void. “Jasper I swear of you don’t get a move on-” Alessia’s breathy protest was cut off by a loud moan. Jaspers lips abandoned her legs to lick a stripe up her core through her lacy panties. Golden eyes rolled into the back of Alessia’s head as strong fingers ripped through blood red lace and Jasper launched into his feast like a man starved. Not even able to conjure words in her mushy brain anymore the symphony of sounds that escaped Alessia’s lips was answered with Jaspers own groans of pleasure, sending vibrations rocketing through her core. The cotton bedspread was released from Alessia’s iron grip and her slim fingers entangled themselves in the blonde locks pulling them impossibly closer to her heat, her soul may be damned now but by god if this wasn’t what heaven felt like. The ever familiar knot began to tighten in her core and Alessia knew if the was still human tears would be falling from her eyes as Jasper’s skilled lips wrapped around her clit and sucked, she fell from her high legs shaking and mind foggy pulling herself up to slam Jasper to her previous position attacking his lips tasting herself. Alessia climbed into his lap watching the awe on his face as she lowered herself onto his length, her eyes rolling slightly before kissing Jasper again trying to ground her overstimulated mind. The pace was punishing and had she still been human her mind would be broken and fuck drunk and she probably would have passed out from just how perfectly he filled her. Her hands roamed the bed searching for his own, their fingers interlocking like puzzle pieces and nothing could have been more perfect than in the next few moments, ecstacy filling their minds and bodies as the look of complete adoration filled their faces. Alessia thought soulmates was a bullshit concept and for the longest time she just couldn’t grasp the idea that there was a person in the world who was your other half but everything about the love between Alessia and Jasper didn’t need explanation, it was biological obsession, psychological adoration, they clicked and their vampiric instincts saw the other and screamed ‘MINE’.

Love didn’t even begin to explain what they felt, but they had eternity to find as many words as they could.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phew! Sorry this is out much later than I expected it to be but here we are the filler episode we were all looking for.

The official movie storyline will continue next chapter and we will see more feisty Alessia because she’s hot when she’s angry.

Have any of you guessed her power yet??

Aoife xx

TAGLIST

@treestarrrrrrrr

@whattheheckisevengoingon

@fangirl1029

@iliveforthefandom04

@frozenhuntress67

@mikariell95

@jessabellaswan

@geekysimmerthings

@payourdebts

@theroyalbrownbarbie

#alice cullen #edward cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #original character #rosalie hale #rosalie twilight #twilight rewrite #twilight #twilight x reader

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1zashreena1 · 4 years

Text

Emotional Spanking -8

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess has an emotional epiphany, a panic attack, a visitor, and a pleasant disciplinary action. In that order.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

SMUT. SPANKING. FEELS. the L word, previously completed kink negotiations, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego, immediately followed by hard!Diego, overwhelmed Princess, He Licks Everything, is a relationship happening??, literally no one knows, not even them

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

This piece is my baby. My heart is in this one. You have been warned.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

Whoever is banging on your door at 6:45 on a Monday morning is relentless. You know it's not your downstairs neighbors; the second floor apartment is still empty because your landlord is actually very sweet and doesn't just screen future tenants for ability to pay the rent, he tries to make sure they'll fit in with the current tenants too. And the little family on the first floor has that loud-ass two year old. There's no blabbery baby talk and the sound of the impact is damn near at the top of the door. So it's definitely Stranger Danger.

You're just going to wait it out. They have to give up at some point. And you've just spent three days ignoring literally everything in the universe, so really, the odds are in your favor here.

Except… you live in a tiny little town. The population on the sign says 570, but they were being generous in counting all the farms within a 10 mile radius. No one comes to your door accidentally. People don't wander up three flights of exterior stairs on an old farmhouse in the middle of Pennsylvania Dutch Country while it's barely above freezing and still dark out. So there are two options:

Serial Killer.

Or, ugh, someone who knows you.

They're not stopping and it's starting to piss you off.

"This better be a fucking murderer!" You mutter as you stomp to the door. Impressive really, considering your pajama pants are over a foot too long and the apartment is carpeted. You reach the door and turn the deadbolt (banging still going on), unlock the doorknob (really, this is just excessive), and yank the door open with a war cry.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Its Diego.

Its Diego looking... odd? You take a split second to catalogue his appearance, it's like a reflex at this point because you can't not ogle him every time his existence is within your range of sight. He's not wearing a belt?? His shirt is half untucked and his jacket extremely wrinkled. One side of his hair is completely flat, as if he slept on it, and his squinted eyes are very, very red. Like he just came off a three day bender. Or he's been crying, your traitorous brain oh so helpfully supplies.

Diego, frozen mid-bang, also takes this time to look you up and down. His eyebrows raise and his brow furrows, clearly not impressed. You're wearing the same pair of pajamas as the last three days. Mismatched socks (one is orange, the other neon green), the overly long drawstring punjammy pants with one cuff rolled up from your stomping, a shelf bra camisole that lost its ability to function as a bra sometime in the last decade, no make up, and your somehow greasy yet simultaneously frizzy floop of curls.

Softly, but with great feeling, he rasps, "What the fuck, Princess?"

Oh no, this is Not Good. This is so, very, incredibly, horrendously bad. Your right arm tenses in preparation to slam the door in his face. His left hand shoots out to land on the door, his arm taut to hold it motionless. He's keeping the door pinned to the wall so he can continue taking up all of the open space of the doorway with his massive body. You snarl silently at him but let go of the door because you know this is the one man who actually can physically overpower you. And you don't need a shattered door to match your shattered pride.

You aim for unbothered dismissive bitch when you ask, "What are you doing here?"

You fail spectacularly when it comes out in a tremulous whisper.

Instead of waiting for an answer you spin around and go left into the living/dining/kitchen largest-space-in-the-apartment all-purpose room. You collapse on your tiny sectional and tuck your feet up under you to sit cross legged. You can hear Diego slam the door and follow after you. As he comes around the chaise of the sectional you reach behind yourself and grab the crocheted blanket your mom made off the back of the couch and desperately try to hide in it. All you want is to become invisible. Diego, of course, is not going to allow that. Asshole.

"What am I doing here? You have not answered anyone for three days! Not your normal phone, not the phone I gave you, not even a Facebook message from your mother! Your sister told Lisa that no one can reach you. Lisa called Julio! What have you been doing?? Clearly you have... gone nowhere…?" His speech started off barking but had shrunk to down to a horrified whisper as he took in the state of your apartment. Everything is everywhere. There are dirty dishes on the breakfast bar. Hair bands scattered across every horizontal surface. A lone lip balm is abandoned on the floor among a sea of used tissues.

--------

This is so not the woman he knows. There's no sarcastic snark of an answer. That woman would never leave something as important as a lip balm on the floor. Shit, she uses packing cubes for fuck's sake. As he kneels down to retrieve the tube of mint goop he hears it. The one sound that always makes him freeze up and opens a sinkhole in his belly: She's crying.

This unflappable woman who makes eye contact with all of his men, who never hesitates to lecture him on 'feminist theory', who gleefully stuffs an entire slice of pizza into her face while sitting in the VIP booth at the club with skinny models looking on in horror, and once called his bluff about putting on a show in the back of a limo by winking and telling Julio to watch them as she pushed him to his knees in front of her while simultaneously yanking up her miniskirt… is crying.

And it's probably my fault. He's almost certain this is his fault. Who else could make her emotional like this? Is someone else important enough to be worth her tears? It had better be my fault. If it's someone else I will kill them.

He looks up to see she has wrapped herself entirely in that weird fuzzy blanket her mother somehow made. The whole blanket creation process had been a mystery to him despite listening to her mother explain it step by step. She even has it over her head like a hood. Which would be adorably hilarious if she weren't ugly crying. Ew, please stop.

It only takes two shuffling steps on his knees to reach her, the living room is so small. He wraps his hands entirely around her forearms and pulls her own hands from her face. How is she beautiful with snot running from her nose? Only for her to flinch backwards. Okay, ouch.

"Look at me." He demands. She just scrunches her face harder. He tries a softer tone, "Please?" That does it. Those bottomless eyes come up and they are so, so lagoon green rather than the normal deepest blue of the open sea. How does she do that?

"Tell me. Talk to me, Princess. Let me in."

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

How does he do that? This large, intimidating, powerful, volatile man should not be able to make you feel safe of all things. Blurting out your feelings to Lisa had been terrifying. Realizing what had just come out of your mouth had brought on a sense of fear so acute it was nauseating. But here you are, staring into that pleading chocolate gaze and wanting nothing more than to answer him.

You can vividly remember the conversation that triggered this entire mess:

You came home from another insane weekend in New York and desperately needed to ruin your best friend's day with extremely detailed descriptions of your depravity. Lisa being Lisa, acted exaggeratedly horrified to hear that you demanded he fuck Franchesca in the bathroom so you could go down on her after to lick out his come while he then fingered you. Okay, maybe she wasn't exaggerating… much. But she knows you. She was not surprised that you wanted to watch him rail Franchesca over a bathroom sink but he insisted on trying to choke you with his tongue while he did it. And she is not shocked that you licked Franchesca off in under two minutes-- or came for him just after. Lisa is still laughing about the finality of Diego's abrupt dismissal of Franchesca the second you come all over his hand when she tells you, "That asshole is a full on freak, girl. Perfect for you!"

And the moment of your damnation, a soft sigh of an admission, "Yeah. I love him."

And you had removed yourself from all human contact for 3 days immediately following that. No social media, no phones, no internet. Nothing.

...so here you are.

His gigantic hands are wrapped around your forearms, fingers so long they overlap his thumbs. You're not afraid of those hands or their assumed capacity for violence. You should be; you know that, you're not stupid. Or maybe you are. After all, you trust this man who runs the most powerful fucking drug cartel in the western hemisphere and you've never even gotten a speeding ticket. While you've been lost in your musings, he released your forearms only to cup your face in those ridiculous hands. Those hands you love, you fucking dumbass.

No other man has ever touched you like this. Never touched your face with reverence, handled your body with an almost jealous possession, or ripped your heart open ever so gently with an earnest expression. He listens, enthralled, when you go off on a rant. He watches where you look while you're out and about. Like a hawk, he notices every shiny little thing you linger on, only for you to find it hidden in your luggage on the way home, wrapped neatly in a tiny box. You once told him that you don't like your elbows touched, it produces some weird overload sensation in your nervous system. And he never took your elbow in hand again, shifted to a hand on your lower back (or your ass, of course. Always a classic). He never seems to care what size is on the tag of the clothes he gets you, only that you like them and you like the way you look in them. He throws his head back with booming laughter when you scream obscenities at traffic. He always thanks you when you make food. Even if he does have to peel the cheese off… he just gives it back to you.

You may have gotten used to the private jet, the SUVs that cost more than your parent's house, the way every restaurant where he takes you has no prices, hell sometimes there isn't even a menu. You've even grown accustomed to the jarring dichotomy of coming home to an apartment the size of his penthouse bedroom while still dripping in precious stones and stuffing your new Louboutins in your purse for the three story climb.

But you're almost certain you will never be over the way your cardiovascular system seizes up when he captures you with a single look, or the functional failure of your lungs when his eyes crinkle with laugh lines, the complete implosion of your stomach when those damn dimples appear, or how your entire reproductive tract clenches with need when he licks his lips, and when your brain stutters to a halt because he lays those hands on your shoulders and swipes his thumbs up your jawline to stroke the pulse point under your ears while leaning his forehead on yours.

You realize you've just been staring at him like a moron for what must be for-fucking-ever. You can tell it's been a while because his eyebrows have lowered and he's starting to look a little defeated. You can feel the weight of his hands easing from your cheeks as he begins to pull back from you. Oh no you don't, you gorgeous fucking asshole.

You slap your hands down on his shoulders with entirely too much force and fling yourself off the couch directly into his lap with a level of violence usually reserved for people who won't put their phones away in a movie theater. He grunts with the sudden addition of your weight and teeters backwards for a second before smashing you into his body via the vise of his arms. You bury your face in his neck, where his stubbly beard catches on your stupid frizz, card your fingers through his amazingly soft hair, and start a whole new round of bawling.

He's kissing the side of your neck, nuzzling into you like he wants to be inside your skin with you. His fingers are spread wide across your back, he's trying to touch as much of you as possible all at once. You can hear a soft, keening whine but you have no idea which one of you is making it. Does it even matter?

The noise stops when you feel his teeth gently sink into the join of your neck and right shoulder. Oh. Guess it was him. His right hand dips low to palm your ass cheek and flatten you further against him. You automatically squeeze your legs around his hips in response.

You realize he's not hard. The shock of this revelation further delays you in understanding that someone is talking. And that someone is you.

"Please please, I'm sorry, please." Hiccup. "Its never- I've never been. I'm scared. It's too much and I'm scared." Another sob. "You keep leaving and it's just. What i-i-i-if you don't come back?" A stuttering inhaled gasp. "Who am I w-w-w-without you? What do I do?" A coughing sob. "You m-m-m-make me weak like this and I fucking h-h-hate it!" And you dissolve into another round of wailing sobs. You know you're practically screaming but you can't seem to stop. Your left hand is clawed into his hair and your right is fisted in the collar of his jacket, ruining the Armani. You're fairly certain the mess of snot and drool leaking out of your face isn't doing any favors for his shirt either.

He's just… letting you. Just letting you ruin his stupid expensive clothes and have a meltdown all over him. Like this is okay. Like it's no big deal. His left hand is rubbing circles over your ribcage while you howl. He releases your neck to raise his chin and tuck you up underneath it. Rubbing his goatee over your hair, then kissing the top of your head so incredibly gently. That can't smell good, you think hysterically.

Your sobs are finally starting to ease but he hasn't made a move to let go yet. You start to wonder how long he's going to kneel here holding you. Can it be forever?

It finally registers that his breathing is rough, labored. His shoulders are shaking under you. Now you're legitimately frightened.

"Diego?" You finally work up the nerve to speak. You hate the way your voice sounds like a small child. "...baby?" He is slowly stiffening under you and not in the fun way. You start to pull your face back from his neck only for his left hand to shoot up into your hair and hold you in place. It's not painful but it's definitely not soft either. Your breathing is starting to speed up. You instinctively know something important is about to happen. And it terrifies you.

He is holding you so tight its bordering on painful when he finally speaks into your hair.

"Why. Tell me why you fear that I never return. You are not weak. And this is not hate." He uses the hand in your hair to pull your head back. You fight it at first, it's just your nature. Then you squeeze your eyes shut and let him move you like a ragdoll. With no vision you don't know what he's doing until you feel the press of his forehead against your own. He bumps his nose against yours then rubs his bristled cheek against your soft one. You realize he's rubbing you like a cat and it makes you smile ruefully. My Murder Panther.

With his lips pressed right to your ear, he rumbles ever so softly, "Tell Diego, Princess."

Your whole body seizes up with the sensation. Oh, you fucking bastard. You would say it aloud except the undercurrent of fear in his voice gives you pause. He's afraid. He's afraid of you. Of the possibility of your rejection. Just like in the kitchen when he blurted out that he wanted to keep you. The way he froze, paralyzed in fear, after he whispered that he loved you. It's the same soft, lost little boy voice, the slight tremble in tone, the uncertainty.

And this time...this time, you can't take it. Tears slowly slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. You remember the night you met. His breathtaking smile when you turned the tables on him. Those damn dimples. When you felt the gun in the back of his pants. The moment you decided to do what you wanted and not what you should. Fuck it.

You press your own lips to his ear, his grip in your hair pliant enough to allow it. He's shaking under you. The fingers of his right hand are digging into your hip like claws, you find the pain grounding. Knowing that you're in control of this entire moment is both thrilling and terrifying. You could break him, right here and now. Fuck it.

And he would let you. This rich, powerful, enigmatic man who has already confessed his love to you. Fuck it.

"Diego.." You breathe into his cheek. He shudders under you and sighs out in a broken whimper.

Fuck it.

"Diego… I love you."

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

There's a long moment that nothing happens. Everything is frozen in place. He doesn't even breathe for fear that he'll wake up from this, just like the dream from a few weeks ago. When he does remember to inhale it's a raspy choke of a gasp. It hurts, he realizes. Is it supposed to hurt?

His eyes are burning. Taking an immediate red eye flight from LA and then driving three hours to her place was probably not his best plan, but he had been terrified. He had needed to have her exactly where she is right now.

He loosens the grip in her hair and turns his face into hers to rub his wet lashes on her cheek. Her hands are coming forward to frame his jaw, hands so tiny and soft. He has refrained from saying it himself for fear of scaring her off. He knows its selfish and he doesn't care, he wants to hear it again. Over and over. Until it stops hurting.

"Diego?" Her voice is so soft, harsh from crying yet still so high. He opens his eyes to see that she still has hers closed. He slides his goatee over her skin until his lips hover over hers.

"Again." He murmurs, "Please, my princess. Tell me you will let me keep you."

‐-------------------------

This couldn't hurt more if he'd reached into your chest and snatched your heart with his bare hands. He sounds so small and hopeful, so vulnerable. Am I his first? The first person to love him?

You can't stand this man begging for your affection. You find yourself wanting to give him everything. Your secret is already out; in for a penny in for a pound, right?

You take a deep breath and dive in head first because you're a fucking Scorpio, damnit.

"Diego, baby." You stroke his cheeks, petting down his stubble with the direction of the growth. Just like you would pet any other cat, you find yourself grinning. You open your eyes to see him so close its dizzying. His are shut but his expression is pure yearning, eyebrows drawn down and brow furrowed, jaw tensely solid, wet lashes stuck together in spiky pieces. "I love you."

He chokes and his eyes snap open to meet yours. Now it's your turn to muck up the basic process of breathing. There's so much everything in his eyes you feel like you're drowning. Every fucking romance novel cliche was right.

"Again." He demands. In typical Diego fashion, he wants it and he wants it now. You can't help your smile growing wide. There's my Murder Panther.

"I love you." You maintain eye contact while leaning your forehead against his. "I love you." Its like you can't stop yourself. You brush your lips over his goatee, he chases you back to ghost a kiss on your lips. "I love you." Its just pouring out of you now.

"I-" Kiss.

"Love-" Kiss.

"You." Kiss.

You expect him to keep kissing you. To slide that perfectly wicked tongue between your lips and drive you even further insane. But he doesn't. He pulls back to pant in your face, then closes his eyes and whimpers. You watch the play of emotions across his features, so quick you can't identify a single one. He finally gathers himself into some cohesive comprehensible thought and speaks:

"I dont. I have never. You have to, to do the...uhh… help?"

Or not.

You can hear so much in that soft rumble. Fear, relief, uncertainty, pleasure, hunger, but most of all, trust. He's trusting you. Trusting that you know what to do. Trusting that you can lead him on this new path. Trusting that you'll take care of him. This man who leads the largest criminal outfit on the continent and is intimidated by nothing, entrusts his being to you. It's like being stabbed in the heart, a searing pain that brings tears to your eyes and a painfully wide smile to your lips.

You slide the thumb of your right hand forward to swipe over his cheekbone. Your left hand goes back to stroke his hair. He nuzzles into your right hand, beard both soft and scratchy. Just like him, all contradictions. You can see his lashes flutter and you open your mouth to speak but…

Wait a minute.

Seriously???

"Diego… Are you staring at my tits?"

He's not even remotely repentant. "They are just. Right There! And no bra!"

You throw your head back and laugh. You laugh so loud it hurts your throat and brings tears to your eyes. You laugh until you're gasping for air. When you finally open your eyes and look at him your heart tries to crawl up and out of you just to get to him.

He's staring up at you, eyes wide with adoration and jaw hanging open in wonder. You bend forward to rest your forehead on his again. "You soft little Murder Panther." You don't even bother trying to hide your ridiculously pleased smirk.

His right hand slides up your hip to your lower back while the left lowers slowly from your hair to the back of your neck. His lips curl up at the corners. His gaze is still soft as he murmurs, "Only for you, my princess."

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

She's so soft in his arms. Relaxed and loose, trusting that he'll take her weight without buckling and keep her safe from falling. It makes his chest ache and his eyes burn. He raises his chin, bringing his lips to her, only she dives down for him at the same moment, colliding together just this side of too much, too fast. Always so eager, the thought makes him groan deeply. She shivers in response and whines, so high pitched it makes his ears ring.

She's curling her fingers in his hair, using the leverage to tilt his head to the angle she wants while he kisses her. He's rubbing his lips over hers, making sure to apply enough pressure that her fair skin will show the beard burn later. When he feels her left arm begin to tense he goes to draw back to look at her… only for her to yank on his hair. He yelps, and she seizes the opportunity to delve her tongue into his mouth. Holy fuck, she is perfect.

And then she's abruptly pulling back. No no no no no no!

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

Like a slap upside the head, you suddenly remember that you haven't showered...for three days. Fuuuuuuuck.

"Wait, wait Diego, hold on-" In the time it takes you to whine those five words he's already moved on to your neck. His left hand is threaded back into your hair and holds tight close to your scalp to gently but steadily pull. Just how you like it.

"Uhhhhhhhhh wuhhh…" Oh yes, so eloquent. He's rubbing that fucking goatee everywhere and you're about fourteen seconds away from passing out. You put your hands on his shoulders and start to push him backwards. He growls in displeasure and you whimper. Okay, maybe a little more, your traitorous brain isn't even helping here. You try again, "Baby, baby. I haven't. Oh god, yes. Uhh huh. Wait, just, can you pause? Mmmmmm… Oh my god, Diego stop!" Apparently barking works.

He growls again but manages to disengage from tormenting your neck with one last long lick. Do not think about that tongue!

"Fucking what?" He mutters, breathing hard. "I cannot have you? Now?" How very Diego. He's blinking at you in agitated confusion, pupils blown wide and flushed lips parted. His hand in your hair is shaking, the other has sunk back down to grip your ass very, very securely.

You can feel your face flushing with embarrassment. Your gaze darts off to the left, this is mortifying. "I haven't showered in three days. I smell." When you finally manage to make eye contact again he's grinning. Oh no.

"Oh si, Princess. I can smell you." His tone is arrogant, but the thickening of his accent betrays just how aroused he really is. His left hand slides down to your butt, too. That grin is all teeth, Pure apex predator.

"Yeah, that's what I me-yeeeeen!" He doesn't let you finish. Instead he slides both hands under you, where ass meets thigh, and picks you up to deposit you back onto the couch. You always squeal in delight when he picks you up, That is never gonna get old. The moment your weight is on the cushion he brings his hands forward and then around your inner thighs to spread your legs wide. Before you can even register what is happening he dives down into your lap, burying his face in your crotch and inhaling deeply.

While your brain has stalled in shock (because Are you fucking serious?) your hips have decided this is a great idea and lurched forward to practically hump his face. His exhale is the longest, loudest, sexiest groan you have ever heard. Your hands fly to his hair, but instead of pushing away they are definitely holding him in place. He's rubbing his face against you, turning his head from side to side, moaning endlessly like he can't get enough.

Your brain finally catches up and you abruptly cut off the whine that's been pouring out of you. You just have to open your mouth, "Are you fucking serious right now? You like that?!?"

With one last hard rub of his face against you, (FUCK YES, rub that bearded chin on my clit) he pulls back to look up at you. And if you thought he looked aroused before, he is positively wrecked now. His eyes are slitted in pleasure, brows drawn together with need, jaw slack, mouth open and panting. He doesn't keep you waiting for an answer. "Well, not your normal sexy bakery scent. You smell like you but just, more. Damn delicious." He growls.

Okay, two things:

You file 'sexy bakery' away for later discussion because wtf, lol.

And. And he really means that. He's dead serious. He has a death grip on your inner thighs, his hands are like steel. As if he's afraid you'll try to push him away, to stop him. Fat fucking chance, babe.

You cup his face with both hands and smile softly down at him. In wondrous amazement you whisper, "Holy fuck, I love you." The transformation of his expression from blissfully needy to Horny Murder Panther is damn near instantaneous.

"Good. Now gimme this pussy!" He orders.

You laugh, but your hands fly to the drawstring of your pants in obedience. He erupts into a flurry of actions, pulling his jacket off to dump it on the floor behind him. He only gets as far as unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves before giving up and just ripping the shirt up and over his head to join his jacket. The sight of solidly muscled chest rippling like that short circuits your brain. What were you even doing? Was it drooling? Its definitely drooling now.

His hands come back to your thighs, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh. He yanks you forward until your ass is hanging off the couch. You snap back to awareness and start frantically pushing your pants down. He grabs the waistbands of both your pants and underwear and hauls the whole mess down your legs at what has to be record speed. Before you have a chance to do anything else he's burying his face into your pussy like a starving man.

He uses his flattened tongue to give you a long, slow, torturous lick from the bottom of your entrance to your clit. Your back arches to mirror his movements while you sob in pleasure. Then he does it again. And again. Over and over in an endless loop of wet decadent friction. He grips the backs of your thighs, the heels of his palms brushing your ass while his thumbs are buried in the creases where leg becomes hip. He pushes your legs back more yet, widening you further and practically folding you in half. You can't even bring yourself to be worried about how your squishy stomach compresses into rolls. Diego certainly doesn't care.

He changes tactics to latch onto your clit. Sealing his lips around you, he alternates between hard suction and softly sliding his tongue up under your hood to drive you mad. The direct pressure is almost too much, you whimper and squirm after only a few rounds of this. He leaves off and you think you're catching a break to breathe. You are so, so wrong.

He goes lower to literally lick you from bottom to top.

With a shriek, both of your hands fly to his head. "Holy fuck. Oh my god, oh my god. Baby. You. Oh god. Baby, fuck yessss… " What started out as some kind of blasphemous incantation ends in you hissing with unadulterated sin. He moans against you in response but doesn't stop. The incessant long strokes of his tongue have you closer to orgasm faster than you can ever remember it happening before. Your legs are shaking and tears are pouring from your eyes. You reach your right hand down to touch his left where he's holding your thigh, needing something, anything, to ground you. And he laces his fingers with yours.

Your heart clenches. "Diego…" you whisper for him, sobbing from the intensity of everything. With a choppy groan he refocuses on your clit, ferociously determined. Your entire abdomen is tense, you're wound too tight. He presses his flattened tongue against you even harder, shortening his strokes just to cover your clit. It feels infinite, you can't tell where one lick ends and the next begins. Just constant, unyielding pleasure. It's too much, holy fuck it's too much, never stop.

Everything clicks into clear focus. Your pussy compresses tight on nothing, and then you snap. Your whole body seizes up with your orgasm. For one long, terrifying moment your heart pauses and your breathing stops. It all comes crashing back together and you suck in a lungful of air with a choking sob. Waves of agonizing pleasure wash over you, your body shuddering with each one. He's still pressing that incredible, miraculous, entirely evil tongue to your clit. Holding fast and drawing your climax out as long as possible. Growling against you with heavenly vibration. As the rounds of your clenching cunt ease in both intensity and frequency he slowly slides up and off of you.

He rests his sweaty forehead against the inside of your right thigh, panting so hard his breath is hitting you with almost physical force. You pry your right hand off your own thigh, keep your fingers laced together, and bring his hand up to your chest where you lay it over your heart.

You keep your eyes closed while you brokenly cry. "I love you, Diego."

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

His right hand snakes up your body to slide around the back of your neck. He's pulling you forward, sitting you upright. His left hand slides back down to your hip where he grips you tightly and pulls toward him simultaneously. Your eyes pop open when you feel like you're going to fall off the couch.

Diego scoops you back into his lap with your momentum and proceeds to just stand up. You yelp in surprise as your arms shoot around his neck to hold on. It takes a second to realize that you're essentially just sitting on his left forearm, his right hand is still gripping the back of your neck tightly. You moan in pure arousal, hiding your face against his shoulder. The fact that he just tosses you around like a ragdoll is so mind-meltingly hot. The sheer bulk and breadth of him never ceases to render you speechless. There's just so much Diego that he blocks out everything else. Its overwhelming in every sense. Let me just drown in Diego.

By the time you've contemplated your fate, bodice-ripper romance novel style, he's made it halfway down the hall to your bedroom. You tuck your legs tighter around his torso, the hallways in an old farmhouse aren't exactly spacious, and he purrs against you in response. Your body's physical reaction is so strong that you choke. Is there anything about this man that does not turn me on?

He makes it to your bedroom without incident (a miracle, really, considering it looks like a bomb went off in your apartment) and deposits you on the bed. He's been so incredibly gentle with those huge hands that it takes you by surprise when he firmly grasps your jaw and growls at you. "Look at me."

You swallow, hard, and open your eyes. He's staring at you so intensely, his gaze unreadable. He uses his grip on you to slowly push you down onto your back. You don't even try to fight it. You're not sure what he's doing but it's very clear that he needs to do it. He squeezes your jaw with purpose and you blink up at him in confusion. He cocks his head and regards you like… well, like prey.

It's been a long time since he has made you nervous like this.

He finally releases your jaw to slide his hand down your throat and rest it over your pounding heart. He pulls the neckline of your camisole away from your body then allows it to softly snap back against you. "Take this off." His growl is quiet, but it still sets off alarm bells in some primal part of your brain. He sees the hesitation in your eyes and barks out, "Now!"

You whip the top off over your head before he loses any more patience and rips it off of you in shreds. His hand is back on your jaw, ensuring you look nowhere but at him. His breathing is harsh, you can see a muscle tic in his left cheek, and his eyes are wild. Feral, you shiver with the thought. "Stay, Princess." He orders softly and releases his hold on you.

You don't dare move.

He straightens back upright and his hands go to his pants. You have a brief moment of hysteria, Have fun getting those impeccably tailored pants over that massive cock, but you manage to stifle the thought and keep your expression steady. He's toeing off his shoes while undoing the button, then pulling the zipper down. You watch his hands in fascination. It's an obsession you have no plans of shaking. He manages to get the pants over his hips with no problems, a complete lack of underwear always expedites the process.

He moves to climb on the bed and you spread your legs for him like a reflex. This man has had a profound effect on you. Before you get too far he throws his left leg over both of yours, straddling you and effectively immobilizing you. You reach up for him as he plants his elbows just outside of yours and cups your face in those hands you so adore. Your own hands land on his shoulders and he allows it, for now. You try to urge him down on top of you, but he's not budging. You want to touch more, feel all of him, but he's just looming over you to block out the rest of existence.

His hands are like iron, caging you in to bend you to his will. His eyes search your face, you have no idea what he's seeking. Finally, he rumbles down at you, "Do you know what you did?"

The question is soft, dangerously so. You can feel yourself starting to shake. You have a sneaking suspicion that there is no right answer so you just shake your head in a 'no'. He cocks his head again and you find yourself blinking rapidly. His eye twitches when he finally answers, "You scared me."

You're shocked. Never in a million years would you have expected this man to straightforwardly admit fear. He leans in close to your face and your breathing hitches. "I'm sorry." You whimper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I never meant to scare you." You don't even recognize your own voice. Its small, plaintive and timid.

He moves back upright and kneels over you. His expression is only becoming more fierce. You start to draw your legs out from under him, curling up some, instinctively seeking to protect yourself. "You didn't mean to?" He rumbles incredulously. His eyebrows are rising and you can feel actual anger radiating off of him.

He snaps, "You didn't mean for me to drop everything I was doing?" And faster than you can comprehend his right hand comes down on the outside of your left thigh. The sharp sound of the slap echoes in your tiny room. Your jaw drops in shock, then the pain blooms out from the point of impact. You look from his face to his hand, then back again. "Diego, I--"

"You didn't mean for me to cancel two drop receivements and a business meeting?" His hand comes down again, but you're already moving. You try to turn away, rolling your legs to the right. His hand lands on your left hip, fingers long enough to catch the outside of your cheek. You shriek and start trying to escape in earnest. His left hand shoots down and grabs both of your wrists, stopping you from pulling yourself away from him. "Diego! Wait, I don't--"

He clamps his legs around yours and uses your momentum against you to turn your hips entirely to the side. He has both your wrists pinned down in a bruising grip. Your shoulders are flat on the bed, there's nowhere you can hide your face. "No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause--"

"You didn't mean for me to take an immediate flight across the entire country?" This time the slap lands fully on your ass. And it hurts. You yelp as tears spill over your cheeks. "No! I'm sorry! Please--"

"You didn't mean for me to drive two hours from the airport after I've been awake for almost two days?" His volume has risen, he's practically yelling. His hand comes down again, lower this time to catch the bottom of your cheek, where it becomes the tender skin of thigh. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No I didn't--"

"You didn't mean for me to find you here like this? Having some sort of tantrum like a child?" He roars. This time there are three slaps, one right after the next, all landing in the same spot. Your shrieks are coming out in stutters, interspersed with gasping inhalations. "No! No no no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry Diego! I'm sorry!" You're sobbing with it, choking on humiliation. You can't hide your face, there's nowhere to run from this.

"Or you didn't mean for me to find out that you cared? Huh? That you love me!" His voice cracks over the sound of his near constant strikes. You're wailing in tears, "Yes! Yes! Okay! Damnit Diego, I'm sorry! I was afraid! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…" you dissolve into incoherence.

He releases your wrists and grabs your face again. You try to push him away, but you're too weak. "Look at me! Look at me, Bicki!" he hisses. You shake your head no. "Mirame, Princesa! Please, please." His voice is hoarse, dripping with fear and desperation. You open your eyes to find him right in your face. His expression is twisted up with pain and desire. "You cannot do this! I have to know you are safe! Protected! Let me keep you!"

It suddenly dawns on you what he means with 'keep'. He wants to protect you yes, but what he really means is 'have' you. Present in his life. At his side. Your heart in his keeping.

His hands are stroking you, over your hair, down your arms. He grips your hands tightly, bringing them up to his face. You hold onto him, your only constant in this. "Diego.." you hiccup. Then, with no warning and no conscious command on your part, you slap him. Hard.

You're both frozen in place, equally shocked. Staring at each other in escalating tension. You sniffle and it launches him into action.

He grabs your left hip in a bruising grip, pushing your leg to your chest, pulling it out from under him so he can get between your thighs. You frantically claw at his shoulders, his biceps, anything to pull him closer. You need him. Right now. You need him so deep inside you that you don't know where he ends and you begin.

He slides home in one powerful thrust. Your whole back arches and you grimace in excruciating ecstasy. The stretch of it burns, it hurts so perfectly. His left hand is wrapped around your left thigh, holding you open for him, his right on your left shoulder, keeping you steady and still for him to bottom out. He stays there, grinding his cock into you as far as possible. Still trying to push the last few inches into you. Your vision blacks out and you scream yourself hoarse with your orgasm.

When you come back to awareness he's kissing all over your face, murmuring your name. You turn your face to his, seeking. He fits his lips over yours and you both moan. You pet over his shoulders, reach back up to tug on his hair.

He starts a steady rhythm of long, slow strokes. You can feel every damn inch of him and it's so incredibly, deliriously good. You open your mouth to him and he deepens the kiss, tongue moving to match his hips. He tastes like you. All you can smell is his cologne, underscored by pure lustful male. This is indescribable. Each and every one of your senses is nothing but Diego.

His right hand glides down to cup your breast, hefting the weight of it and rubbing his thumb over your nipple. You break off the kiss to throw your head back, whining in pleasure. His lips trail down your neck, beard leaving fire in his wake. He laves his tongue over your nipple before latching on and suckling. You can feel another orgasm approaching, and so can he.

"That's it, Princess. Come for me. Show Diego what a good girl you are." His hoarse voice and soft commands push you right over the edge. You're rippling down around him, sobbing and nodding. Yes, yes, your perfect little princess.

He picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed into the wall with a steady banging. You can't seem to care. You're whining and pleading, "I'm sorry, please please. Yes baby, yesyesyesyesss…"

"I know," he coos softly to you. "You are so very sorry, aren't you?" You're nodding desperately in agreement. "Will you do this again? Huh?" You shake your head 'no' so fast it makes you dizzy. His words would be condescending if his tone wasn't so very emotional. It's okay. You need him to vocalize what you can't. And he knows it. He knows you.

He pushes your left leg out to the side, sliding his right hand up your thigh to grip your hip. His left hand travels down your back between you and the bed. Through nothing but raw power he lifts your wide hips and rotates you so you're flat on your back and fully open to him. You keen at the show of strength, just like he knew you would.

"Are you going to be a good little Princess for Diego?" When you don't answer he pulls back and stops. Your eyes snap open and you whimper in desperation. He's watching you, waiting. His brows are drawn together in concentration and his jaw is set tight. Those beautiful brown eyes are nearly black with hunger. He digs his nails into your hips while he waits.

You struggle with gathering enough oxygen before you can answer, "Yes, yes I'll be good. Be good for you, I promise!" You aren't sure who is in control of your mouth right now. You don't feel like you have any control. He rewards you by filling you up completely. Your eyes roll back into your head, taking all of him at once always steals your breath.

He stays fully sheathed and leans over you. Bringing your knees up to your shoulders and his face to yours, he takes your lips under his. You sob into his mouth, you can feel the head of him pressing against your cervix. He nips your bottom lip then swipes his tongue over the sting. "Does my princess want this? Does she want Diego to keep her?"

You cling to his shoulders. Closing your eyes in chagrin, you nod. He keeps his face pressed to yours. "Tell Diego. I need to hear it!" He hisses.

"Yes. Want you to keep me. Please." you whisper, broken and needing. He rears back and starts a frantic pace. His thrusts are short and brutal, stabbing directly into the core of you. You can do nothing but howl in pleasure and take it. Your spasms around him are nearly constant, one after another you come in rolling waves. You're begging, or cursing, hell, you have no idea what's coming out of your mouth at this point.

He brings the weight of his torso down on you, crushing you into the bed. "Come! Come now! Come, my princess, come for your Diego!" His words are a command, but his voice is begging.

You're bawling again. "Yes, yesyesyes. Diego, Diego pleeeeease!" You have no idea if he can understand you. You're pretty sure only dogs could hear that. "Please Please please please please, baby. Please. Need you. I love you!"

He buries his face in your hair and drops your legs in favor of engulfing your shoulders in his embrace. You wrap your legs around his hips, you have to keep him as close to you as possible. Your arms snake around his torso, squeezing tight to bring your chest up against his. He's grunting, his thrusts becoming erratic.

Then you hear him. His voice is quiet, words pleading, "Come. Let me keep you. Please, please. C-come. Princess, need you. Come home with me!" You nod tightly, sobbing silently as he freezes up in orgasm. He chokes out a groan, then collapses on top of you. You welcome the weight of him. He nuzzles into your neck, tickling you with beard and a big sigh. "Love you."

It hurts. It hurts deep in your chest. You hope it never stops hurting like this.

He retreats out of you, faster than you would like. You're pretty sure he forgets just how large he is. You feel wrung out, stretched out of shape and hollow. He pulls his right arm out from under you and rolls off to flop face-up on your right side. His left arm is still trapped under your back. Do you care that it's lumpy and uncomfortable? Nah. You unearth your right leg from under both of his and he makes a whiny huff about it.

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

He's struggling to catch his breath. He didn't mean for things to get so… out of hand. So to speak. She always does this to him. She withholds her more serious emotions and it drives him crazy. She never makes a fuss about his responses, never freaks out when he shows her affection, never gasps in shock when he gives her his ultimate deference. She acts like she has no deep feelings for him and it makes him want to beat it out of her. Apparently that is the correct method.

Her body is relaxed and casual on his arm. But he's greedy and doesn't want her to seal off all those delectably vulnerable emotions she just displayed. Soft, pliant, obedient, needy Princess is his new favorite.

He rolls her into his side with his trapped left hand while rumbling softly, "Come here." And she does. She snuggles into his side willingly and it makes him feel so soft that it's disgusting. Or maybe that's the guilt. She didn't agree to the spanking before hand. She didn't even know it was coming. Honestly, neither had he. His next thought feels like a stab to the lungs. What if she is afraid of me now? Did I hurt her? This is disgustingly emotional.

"Princess?" She sighs a soft 'Mmmm' in answer. She burrows into the coarse hair and soft skin of his underarm. Is, is she sniffing me?? He decides that ignoring her utterly adorable weirdness and addressing the ceiling is his safest option at this point. "Are… are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"

Her left hand freezes on his chest. Her face slowly creeps into his field of vision from the bottom left corner. Her expression is… mystifying. He keeps his head still but moves his eyes to his peripheral vision to squint at her in concerned concentration.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her lips curve up in an absolutely evil grin. That damn left eyebrow arches imperiously and he is completely certain that she will be the death of him.

"Did you hear me use the safeword?"

#Damnit Diego #murder panther #rough me up then dick me down #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #soft kitty #zash writes #all the feels #this is gross #love confessions

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