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miniwheat77 · 9 months

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Seductive. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, p in v sex, rough sex, age gap, (let me know if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader takes some advice from a friend on base and seduces her Captain.

(This has been in my drafts for forever, I hope you like it.)

Your eyes narrow as you look upon her, very clear fake laugh leaving her lips as she places her hand on his shoulder. He doesn't notice, but you do. You can see the look in his eyes as she does, what she's doing. It's working. She walks away from him and makes her way over to you. You're sitting at a table in the mess hall, sandwich in hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask your only friend on the base you worked on. Her name was Katy, the only tolerable female on base. She might've been a little bit of a barracks bunny but you usually ignored that. She was nice and funny and you got along with her quite well.

“What?” She says. “You’re totally trying to seduce him.” You laugh. After witnessing her chatting up your commander. “Yeah? So?” Your eyes widen. “What the hell. You whore.” She shoves you. “Oh come on, don’t be such a prude.” She rolls her eyes. “Katy. You know you can’t have relations on base.” You chuckle. “What they don’t know won’t hurt em.” She smirks. “You’re not interested in anyone at all?” She asks. “No.” You say, confused. “Lame. I was going to tell you how to get what you want.” She smirks. You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I ever need your expertise, but you know I’m leaving soon.” She scoffs. “I know. It’s bullshit, you’re supposed to stay here with me.” She pouts. “It’s only for 6 months and I’ll be back.” You chuckle.

You’d been recruited for task force 141, and you were leaving in a couple of weeks. She was very upset that you were leaving but you were excited for something new. After finishing up lunch, the both of you returned to your posts. You weren't sure how you got recommended to be in task force 141, you hadn't even met anyone apart of it besides the few time's you talked to Laswell, but it wasn't her task force. It was different and you weren't sure if you were ready for it.

The two weeks leading up to the day you were leaving, were crazy. Almost every single day Katy convinced you to go out, you spent almost 2 full weeks hungover at work. It was awful, but it was some of the most fun you’d ever had. The time seemed to drag on, you were nervous and excited at the same time for something different. You were waiting on a bench patiently for your helicopter to arrive, the one that'd be taking you away. Katy was sitting next to you. Talking to you before you'd inevitably leave. She was worried but she'd never show it. She was good at hiding her emotions. She had been through a lot before she entered the military, so she was good at concealment. When the helicopter arrived, she gave you a hug and you finished your goodbye's to the other few acquaintances you had on base. They were sad to see you go, and they were worried as well. 141 went on some crazy missions and they were worried about you. "Don't get dead." Katy smiles, you could see the hurt in her eyes.

She was upset when you left but she’d be okay. She had guys on base to keep her company while you were gone anyways.

The ride to the base task force 141 was on took quite a few hours. They were off in the middle of nowhere in Iran. Working toward eliminating Hassan Zyani. The Iranian terrorist.

When you arrived on base, it was pretty early in the morning. "Hi." A man smiles. He's attractive, very attractive. You smile and take his outstretched hand. Shaking it. "I'm Captain John Price. It's nice to finally meet you." He smiles. His accent takes you a little off guard, forgetting that this base is going to have Military from all over. "Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N." You smile. He nods his head. "I've heard a lot about you. A lot about how sharp you are for your age." He smiles. "Really? I didn't know that people talked about me." You chuckle. "Oh they do. It's nice having you here Y/N, I'll show you around.” He spins around on his heels and you know you'll fit in just fine here.

Your first few weeks with 141 were busy. Nonstop missions, always up to something. If you weren’t out on a mission, you were inside of an office helping people out with research and all kinds of paperwork. You spent a lot of time with your Captain and Laswell. They enjoyed your company and your expertise with technology. Your relationship with each of the members of 141, and those in alliance with 141 were close knit. You got along so well with everyone right away and they took you in as one of their own. Joking and playing with Soap, but knowing he’d ring someone’s neck for you. Slight gestures that always made Ghost smile under his mask. Sharing sweets with him, laughing when he didn’t like it and would spit it out. Catching him smoking with his mask slightly lifted. Him threatening to kill you if you tell anyone. His eyes would darken and he’d glare if someone said something slightly aggressive to you. Playing small pranks on everyone with Gaz, he was like your evil twin. But the couple times Price got stern with you he was always there to help the situation. Usually a “take it easy cap, she’s new.”

But you didn’t really mind when he got stern with you. If you needed correction, you’d take the advice.

The only thing that really started to bother you, was the growing feelings you felt for your Captain. You didn’t figure he’d go after you, significant age gap, the job you both worked in. It just seemed impossible. You wondered if he was married but ended up asking if he had any kids and he said no, he’d never even been married. Your heart jumped. Literally wanted to beat out of your chest in excitement. He was single. Your only concern now was the significant age gap. If he didn’t mind, you definitely didn’t mind.

You spent many nights up late, daydreaming. You thought about the way he smelled, the way he has to taste on your tongue. The way his facial hair would scratch at the skin between your legs. You were groggy most days but managed to hide it. Your Captain always kept everything professional with you. He never gave you a reason to have such a growing crush on him despite his protectiveness. He was a little rough around the edges, raised his voice sometimes, very stern. You day dreamt about that too, how rough he could be. His calloused hands moving with the curves of your body. Sometimes you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, get him out of your head. But not even an ice bath would take away the growing heat you felt between your legs when you thought about him. You suffered like this for longer than you liked to admit. Longing stares at him during meetings. Constant concern about him on missions. It was getting a little dangerous how you felt about him.

You sat on the edge of your bed. It was pretty late at night. You were running out of options. You had one left, and you were growing desperate. With a sigh, you pull your phone out. Quickly dialing her number.

“Hey Katy.” You smile as she answered. “Y/N! Hi! How is everything?” She asks. “Everything is great, but I need advice.” You laugh. “Oh? With what?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and stepping further into your room to ensure nobody would hear you. “Do you remember when you said to ask you, ‘when I wanted to get what I want’ you remember that?” You say. She squeals through the phone. “You like somebody? You’re going to try to seduce them? You whore.” She laughs. “Yeah, if I told you who it was you’d probably freak.” She looks confused but you can’t see it. “What?”

“It’s my Captain.” She gasps. “Y/N! You little minx!” She laughs. “Just.. tell me how to do it.” You breathe. “Okay okay.” She laughs.

“First, start being friendly. When he makes a joke, put your hand on his shoulder, on his knee if you’re sitting next to him. You can fake a laugh, but don’t be obvious.” She says. “I’m listening.” You smile. “Your base isn’t that strict right?” She asks. “No?” She smiles on the other end of the line. “In the morning, before you put your uniform on, go out to get coffee. I’ve done it before in just a tank top and shorts. But you have to track his pattern so you know where he’ll be. Make sure he’s in the room, you don’t wanna seduce the wrong one yknow?” She laughs. “When you’re training, just wear a sports bra and shorts. Tight shorts. Ask him to help you train, and don’t be afraid to make some suspicious noises when you’re working out.” She smirks. “When you’re stretching, whimper. They like that.” You’re laughing. “You seem to know a lot about this.” You laugh. “Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes. You take a deep breath. “Start with those, and I’ll think of some more.” She giggles. “Okay. You’re a life saver.” After some more sly words from her, you talk a little more about everything going on. Once you’re done, you say your goodbyes and hang up.

The nervousness you felt in the morning after the conversation with her was almost too much to bare. You made your way into the mess hall, shorts and a tight tank top just like she said. You knew your Captain didn’t sleep all that well so he was always the first awake. You make your way into the kitchen, your eyes burned from being tired but you needed this. Needed him to pay attention to you. When you step into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes tiredly, his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He has to stop himself from choking on his coffee. He had never seen you dressed like this before. He has to kick himself for acting like a horny teenage boy, it was pathetic. You don't notice anything different about him as you finish getting your coffee, mumbling a small 'good morning' to him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you do as she says. When he'd make you laugh in any way, you'd put a light hand on his shoulder or thigh if you were sitting next to him. You'd come out nearly every morning in something revealing. He didn't seem to show any interest in you which sucked. You started to think maybe he just wasn't interested in you, but after more conversations with Katy, she said to keep up and not let up quite yet. To keep doing it for a while. So you did. It didn't take much to do it anyways.

“Morning Captain.” You say tiredly. “Good morning.” He smiles. He breathes out. He didn’t expect this, the way you looked under your gear. “Why are you awake so early Ah?” He asks. “Didn’t sleep good. Was thinking about working out but Soap is usually my spotter and I know he’s not awake yet.” You sigh. You laugh, sitting across from him at the table. You needed to try something else, so why not this? John perks up. “I could spot you if you need help.” He breathes. He’s trying not to sound too eager. “Oh I’d hate to ask you to do that..” you say innocently. “Oh, it’s no problem. I don’t mind.” He smiles. “Okay. I’ll go get changed and I’ll meet you in the gym?” He nods his head. “Sounds good sweetheart.”

You walk quickly to your room, changing into an even more revealing outfit. You wait around in the gym, doing your usual workout routine. When your Captain comes in, he freezes when he sees you. Sports bra, even tighter shorts. He breathes out, trying to collect his thoughts. Was he really this deprived? Thinking this way about you?

He sets all of his belongings down and makes his way over to you. “Ready?” He asks. Standing over the bench press. You nod your head. "You've stretched already right?" He asks. You nod your head with a smile. You lay down and get adjusted onto it. You grasp the bar, lifting it off of the rack and beginning to lift it up. “Let me know when it gets to be too much.” He says. You nod your head trying to breath through it. Katy’s words echo in your ear.

You start small, small breaths of air leaving your lips, and you get a tiny bit louder, very small moans escape your lips and you don't notice anything at first but as your whimpers got louder, breaths of air leaving your lips with each raise you do, you finally catch it. John stepping back. Having to adjust his hardening cock. The tightening he felt was uncomfortable and he couldn’t take it. You notice this action, having to stop yourself from smiling. It was fucking working.

Katy you devil.

You hang up the bar, struggling a little as you did so. “Did good Y/N.” He smiles. “Thank you, I’m trying.” You laugh. Your body had a slight sheen of sweat. He could see the way your cleavage looked. Beads of sweat. You probably tasted so sweet, he wanted to run his tongue along your skin. He has to shake the thoughts away. So dirty. It was fucking working. You were so surprised. John works out alongside you for only a few minutes longer before excusing himself to go do 'work' which you knew wasn't true. He was rock hard and needed relief, or at least to get away from you. The moment he leaves the Gym, you're picking up your phone to give Katy a call.

When she picks up, the first words out of your mouth are "It fucking worked!" to which she laughs. She asks if you hooked up but of course you say "Not yet." following this up by telling her what had happened with the Gym.

"Maybe you should surprise him in his office if that's where he went. Might walk in on a little something." She laughs. You laugh, shrugging it off. After a little more conversation, you make your way to his office. Maybe she was right. Maybe you might. As you approach you don't hear anything. But you think, he might hear your footsteps and it would be awkward for you to walk away, it'd seem suspicious. So without thinking you come up with some kind of lie and walk right into his office. Your breath leaves your body, a gasp leaving your lips. He gasps out, eyes going wide as he rushes to cover himself up. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You gasp, rushing to cover your eyes. "I'll.. I'll come back later." You mumble. You step out and he groans in frustration, he needed to catch you before you got away.

He scrambles up to follow after you. Opening up his office door. “Wait- Y/N!” He calls after you. You stop immediately, turning around. “Come here.” He breathes. You nod your head immediately, following him back into his office. “I.. what did you need darling?” He asks. His face is blushing red, and he slicks his hair back, he hadn’t even put his hat on. “I.. I was…” you pause for a second. He’s standing right in front of you, hard. Little beads of sweat on his forehead. You glance down, backing up into his office door and closing it behind you. “I was going to ask if you needed any help. But I guess you answered my question.” You smile. His eyes widen at how forward you’re being, but he’s not going to deny this. He’s breathing hard, he seems nervous.

He takes a step forward and smashes his lips against yours, pushing you back into the wall behind you. He’s got a tight grip on you as he kisses you, teeth knocking against yours with the force of his lips moving with yours. He reaches for the shorts you still have on, pushing them down your legs. Once you’re bare, he lifts you up by your thighs, walking you over to his desk and sliding some of his paperwork off to set you down onto it. ��Such a fucking temptress.” He breathes. He leans into you and you hold onto him by his neck, kissing him again. He’s got his hand wrapped around your lower back, hips rubbing into yours. The seam of his pants is stimulating you, making you moan out. He unbuttons them, unzipping them and pushing them low enough to expose his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at him. He spits in his hand, lowering his hand to slide it over your hole, earning a gasp from you. He slides his cock right into you, filling you completely full in one thrust. He clamps a hand over your mouth as a cry is about to leave your lips. “Stay quiet for me darling.” He chuckles. He holds it there as he begins fucking you, your body lurching with every hard thrust he takes. He raises your thighs higher up on his hips, pushing you further back into the desk, until the cold wood is pressed right up against your back. You clutch the edge of it, trying your hardest to stay quiet as he hammers his hips into yours.

“Been such a fucking tease-“ he grits his teeth. Holding onto your thighs. “Walking out there in basically nothing in the morning.. wearing those tight clothes- fuck.” He tilts his head back. Groaning out. “I didn’t think it’d work.” You look up at him, lazy smile on your lips. “You seduced me?” He smirks. You bite your lip, staying quiet. He snorts. “Bad girl hm?” He rubs at your clit with his thumb, and you tilt your head back once again. “Bad, bad girl.” He growls. Your knuckles are turning white with how hard you’re holding onto the desk, a death grip as he pounds you. He pushes a hand down around your throat, pushing down on you lightly. “You didn’t have to work too hard at it baby, just didn’t think you’d go for an old man like me.” He chuckles. “Oh… you have no idea.” You smile. You bite your lip lightly, gripping his wrist. He grits his teeth, he’s getting close. He draws his hand back, squeezing your breast, earning a whine from you. “Rub your clit.” He breathes. You look up at him, raising your hand. “Gonna show you how good I can make you feel.” He breathes. He pulls you closer to him, holding your thighs at a good angle. Instead of full thrusts, he starts grinding his cock into you perfectly. He rubs right up against the spongy spot inside of you and a cry leaves your lips.

He wants to tell you to quiet down, but he doesn’t care who hears anymore. You’re his, all his. “Oh my god-“ you cry out, letting your head rest back on his desk. “So tight on me sweetheart.” He grits his teeth. He keeps the steady pace, and your legs shake slightly as he pushes you closer to your high. “I- I’m gonna cum Captain.” You breathe. He smiles, “cum for me baby, that’s a good girl.” He growls. “Keep rubbing your clit.” He breathes. He’s right there too, praying you’ll cum before him. You tilt your head back, body lurching forward as you reach your high, and once he knows he’s ridden it out for you, he starts thrusting again. It only takes a couple until he’s spilling into you with a groan. You’re breathing hard as he helps you up, standing between your legs still.

“You’re a bad girl you know that?” He laughs. You smile. “Just for you though, Captain.”

“Good. Because I’m going to keep you to myself.” He laughs.

This was just the start of something scandalous.

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im-poe-dameron · 4 months

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THE HEART OF A SHIP

a/n: this fic is a result of wine and rewatching the force awakens. honestly my brain always short circuits whenever oscar isaac comes on screen. so i had to do something. it was meant to be small, but i literally couldn't stop writing so it became this. it's an idea that has been lingering in my head for awhile, i just had to let it simmer for a bit. and now it's fully cooked.

summary: you and poe were inevitable. two asteroids set on a course to crash into one another. a celestial event that would happen whether you wanted it or not. you just never expected it to happen so soon.

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption, love confessions sort of??, poe being romantic as fuck, p in v sex, guided masturbation, biting, sex in an x-wing, sex in a public place, unedited but we live and die by the fucking pen.

Intoxicating.

That was the only way you’d describe him. The only word that ever did him justice. He was the human embodiment of an Antakarian Fire Dancer. You got hammered on it one year after two glasses of the amber liquid, proceeding to forget half the night yet eager for more. Nothing could describe the man before you better. It simply wouldn’t do him justice. He was the itch beneath your skin that you could never satisfy, the reason you stood there now.

A glass of that amber liquid in both hands.

He’d disappeared from the celebration. An hour in from congratulations and happy faces, you watched him leave when no one was looking. And you did nothing to stop it. You knew he wasn’t one to relish in the joys of battle well done. Always intent on focusing towards the next thing—the next fight. It’s how you knew Leia would make him General, why he was so good at leading, at keeping the people he loved safe.

“Leaving without saying goodbye is rude, you know.”

He jumped slightly where he stood, his back to you, a holopad in one hand and a tool in the other. Of course he’d be here, fixing his X-Wing in silence. His own little ritual. You couldn’t count how many times you found him here after a fight, finalizing the last few checks before he caught some sleep. If he slept at all. Poe always seemed to be on the move no matter the time of day—a constant in the Resistance even when everyone else seemed to have lost faith.

“I said goodbye,” he joked, head turning slightly to see you come around, the holopad getting traded for a glass. “Just couldn’t see you in the crowd.”

You smiled. “You’re a shit liar Dameron.”

“I know.” He took a sip, winced, and laughed—the sound practically lighting you up inside. Igniting you like a fucking lightsaber.

“What’s the damage report?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.” He glanced back at the scraped up hunk of metal he loved more than anything. The amount of care he put into keeping her going was admirable—if a little insane at times.

But he was right. The damage was nothing he couldn’t fix.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smile still played on your lips, eyes alight and aiming to start something you wanted him to finish.

Poe caught onto it quicker than you expected. He could see it before you followed him out of the celebration. A promise that lingered in the air from months of longing looks and timid words. Something inevitable and real. So much so that you were willing to bet everything that he felt exactly the same way you did.

You wanted each other. That was clear from day one. But doing something about it became difficult when war was a constant and lives were put in peril on the daily. Poe didn’t want to leave you broken beyond repair if he never made it back. Just as you didn’t want to do the same to him.

The fucked up thing about it though was Poe would mourn you either way. He’d live his life half a man if you never graced him with your presence again. If you weren’t around to smile at him from across rooms and laugh at his shitty jokes. He was pretty sure he’d already started. Being away from you was like a poison he constantly had to take, a pain he didn’t want to endure. And if it were up to him…he’d choose you every time.

No matter the consequences.

“You ever been in an X-Wing before?” he asked, trying to see past the bits and pieces of the ache that hurt you both.

You rolled your eyes and Poe felt his chest tighten. “You know I haven’t. I’m not pilot material.”

“Sounds like bantha shit to me starlight.”

The name you’d heard so many times before echoed differently to you now. You wanted to break through its meaning and find the promise within. The antidote to this fucking ache that stuck to your chest. You wanted to rip it out and grind it up. You wanted to finally take what you desired, relish in the feel of calling him yours without the pain of knowing what came next. The both of you were trying to save your emotions—protect yourselves—but there was no use.

Poe had found a home in your heart and he was there to stay.

“Come with me.”

When it came to him you had no choice but to listen, following dutifully behind in a haze of want. He climbed up the ladder on the side of his ship, plopping down into the seat with the grace of a pilot who’d done it a million times before. The movement now muscle memory at this point. Whereas you clambered up—buzzed on one drink—nearly falling into the cockpit. He grabbed your arm at the last minute, helping you slowly maneuver your way in, until you were perched on this lap.

The seat was barely big enough to fit him let alone you as well. And yet…you’d never felt more comfortable. He pulled you back slightly, hands pressed to your hips, chest snugly placed against your back. With every intake and exhale of breath, you felt him move. Felt his body shift. If you focused, you knew you would be able to feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump you’d grown accustomed to.

“Now—“ He precariously balanced his glass on the dash. “Your hands go here.” Covering your hands with his, he showed you how he’d position himself if he were flying. The cold touch of the buttons and knobs beneath your fingers sent electricity up your spine. “These are to shoot.” Another shift. “And this is to aim.”

You sucked in a breath. “Seems complicated.”

“Not at all.” His fingers slid up your arm, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You tried to remember how to take a single breath. “You just have to understand how the ship works. How she moves, what she likes.”

Your breath hitched, body leaning into him more, and finally you felt it. The wall holding both of you back crumbled to the ground. All that remained now was the will to finally do something about it. So you let his hands guide you, watching in anticipation as they moved to your own body, pressing your palms into your stomach.

“There’s always a heart of a ship,” he murmured, moving your hand down. “A pilot guiding the way.”

“Poe…”

"After all, we've got to guide the ship back home." A soft whimper left your lips, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs to contain yourself. If the cockpit of his ship wasn't so fucking small, you had no doubt you'd be spread on his lap, lips connected to his already.

He grinned, his lips brushing across the back of your neck. “For me…” He stopped right above the hem of your pants, your fingers aching to finally delve down further. “That’s always been you.”

The alcohol had all but burned out of your system from how warm you were. His touch guiding yours seemed to have lit something in the base of your stomach, causing it to spread outwards. And you needed more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed your hand beneath the coarse fabric of your pants. The feeling of him cupping your mound—using you all the while—sent a jolt across your body; a soft moan falling free past your lips.

“Maker starlight,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He wasn't wrong. You could feel yourself dripping the longer he spoke, his words affecting you more than you anticipated. Ever since you first met, Poe always held a power over you. A reminder that no matter how many times you tried to rid yourself of him, no matter what you did...he would remain burned into your soul. He'd be part of you until you drew your final breath in this galaxy.

"It's cause of you," you gasped, your fingers and his sliding through your slick. Running along the lips of your cunt, skimming past your clit entirely. "Oh—"

The scrape of his teeth along your neck nearly did you in entirely, the plea hanging off the tip of your tongue in anticipation. He was toying with you. Playing you like a fucking instrument and listening to your melody. Drowning in the sounds you made—the ones he dreamed of. If there was a life after this, a fated place he could go to rest, he'd want it to be here. Crammed into this cockpit with you on his lap, the feel of you sliding through his fingers and the echo of your voice breathing his name sweeter than the alcohol you had handed him earlier.

Poe would do whatever he could to make this moment last just a minute longer.

"Need you."

He kissed the junction where your neck and shoulder met, fingers still guiding yours through your own heat. "I know you do starlight. But you're gonna cum for me like this first." Your sweet little gasp ripped him a part. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off nearly coming in his pants. "Let me guide you."

You nodded and spread your legs as wide as they could go in the cramped space. It wasn't very far, nor did it give him space to do what he really wanted to do to you, but it would have to do for now. The noise of the celebration in the distance only grew louder as people consumed more alcohol, the joy bleeding into the air. But you couldn't give a shit at that moment about why they were happy, or even what occurred before today.

You were lost to the depths that Poe pulled you into.

Heat spilled between your fingertips, a sticky mess starting between the two of you, but that seemed to only drive him forward. He pressed down, sliding your fingers into you with ease, his delving in right beside you—stretching you in a way that had your back arching. Wrapped his arm around your waist, he kept you still, his chin set on your shoulder and chest heaving with controlled breaths. A way for him to keep the last bits of his sanity as he felt your walls clamp around his fingers.

"Fuck baby," he grit between clenched teeth. "You really did need me huh?"

Nodding, you felt him press even further, fingers searching for something.

"You're gonna make a mess on me." Pumping his hand, he felt your body shudder—your mouth falling open as a ragged moan echoed in the ship. "Gonna take me so easily. I'll slip right in."

You burned from the inside out. A searing heat pulling tight across your body until you could nothing but fall into it. There was no fighting against that aching bliss, no running from what you wanted, what you dreamed of. Poe was intent on breaking you apart right there on his lap, and he'd watch with a smile on his face as you spilled yourself between the rough pads of his fingers. As you made a fucking mess on his lap.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, curling his fingers forward and nudging against something blinding. You cried out, hand grasping at his wrist to either pull him away or keep him right there. You couldn't tell at this point. And he smiled. "Is that it?" Rubbing against the spongy patch along your walls, he felt your entire body lock up, a whimpered sob breaking from your chest. "Yeah. That's fucking it."

You tried to warn him, his name a garbled echo of nonsensical letters on your tongue. But he already knew. His hand sped up, practically pushing your fingers out of the way as he gave you everything you wanted. Poe was certain that he wanted this more than you, that deep down he needed to know that you came because of him. That he was capable of turning you into a sobbing mess.

The echo of his pained grunt was loud in your ears, his hips pressing up into you to relieve the pressure of need he felt, and that's what did it. The knowledge that he was as gone as you were. That he had always wanted you.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, a splintered moan falling past your parted lips as the pleasure spilled over. And he buried his face into your neck, a broken sound of his own muffled by your warm skin. He fought against finishing, biting into your shoulder as he worked you through your release. Adamant to make this last for you—to drag you to the Maker and back with a sated smile on your face.

Eventually you couldn't take it anymore, pleasure bleeding into pain, and you dragged his hand away. A breathless sigh of his name shooting right to his cock.

Without knowing it you had broken him for anyone else. Obliterated his ability to ever see someone the way he saw you.

You and your beauty. Your ability to render him speechless, breathless, and at your fucking mercy. For so long he was the ship lost in space with no sense of direction to lead him back to something real, a purpose. But then you settled into his heart. You became his pilot, guiding him through the never-ending void of space. You kept him afloat even as the weight of the galaxy threatened to drag him down, happy to watch him crash and burn in as so many others had done before.

"That was new," you giggled, hand reaching back to run through his hair.

He smiled, his heart twisting in his chest and fingers still covered in your slick coming to grip at your hips. "To think..." Pressing your ass down against his hard cock, he felt the breath hitch in your chest. "We could have been doing this the whole time."

"W-What a loss," you breathed, that now familiar all encompassing need filling your veins once more.

As if he knew your body so well already, he began to pull at your pants, helping you strip yourself to the best of your ability. The soft clinking of his belt echoed loudly in the cockpit and for a moment you were sure that people in the distance could hear it. But that thought quickly left your mind the second you felt the hot skin of his cock pressing against your lower back—his precum wet and sticky now smeared against your skin. Saliva filled your mouth, the ache pulling at your chest, clawing its way to the surface.

You didn't simply want him. That was too small of a word to explain the feeling in your body. You breathed for him. You lived for him. Poe was the blood that streamed in your veins, the reason your heart beat the way it did. Because it beat for him.

"Say you want this," he grunted, grinding against your skin, his fingers digging in harder than before. Until blood nearly pricked at the surface.

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth before he could even finish speaking. "Maker, I've wanted this for so long."

A growl hit your ears, his nose pressed into your back as he lifted you slightly, and you felt like you would rip to shreds if he didn't hurry. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding into you with slippery ease. And you pressed back against him, desperate to feel him sink into you fully. To be stretched out around his cock. Poe choked on his breath when your warm heat encompassed his throbbing length so suddenly, nearly throwing him off the edge entirely.

"Fuck starlight. You're gonna have to give me a second."

Your lips curled up into a grin. "Yes, General."

For a moment Poe could only process the breaths he took, the word entering his already blank mind. It wasn't until a searing heat shot up his spine at the sound of his title leaving your lips, did he fully understand. His hips pushed up into you, forcing him to sink just a bit deeper. You clutched at the side of the ship, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. The position had him pressing right along your walls, the underside of his cock grinding blissfully against you.

"I used to think you had no idea." He pushed you up slightly until his cock was halfway out and he glanced down, moaning at the sight of him covered in your slick. Only to pull you back down hard. Your choked cry was like music to his ears. "Didn't know what you do to me. How my whole fucking body belonged to you."

"Poe—"

He repeated the movement, smiling at the noises that came free. "But I was wrong."

A pressure quickly built in the base of your stomach, threatening to destroy you. And you chased it. Meeting his thrusts, you fucked yourself on his cock, hands pressed to the dash in front of you and back arched to find the perfect angle that made your toes curl in your boots. Ragged breaths filled the space, accompanied by broken moans and stunted grunts. Each one louder than the last as you both took and took and took, until the very edge of bliss mounted in your bodies.

He gripped the back of your neck, hand fisting at your hair as he pulled you back roughly against his chest. And you fell into it. Whining his name when he grinded up slowly, your walls clamped down around his cock. You could barely see straight through the burn of tears that glazed your eyes, a fucked out expression painted perfectly on your face. And Poe wished he could see you from where he was, catch a glimpse of the way your eyes rolled back, neck on display for him to bite.

"You know exactly what you do to me, starlight." His mouth fell open in a silent moan when his balls drew up painfully, cock throbbing along your walls. He quickly shoved his hand into your slick, fingers locating your clit with ease.

"Maker—" You heard him bite out your name like a prayer he couldn't get out fast enough. A plea for you to give him everything you had, everything that made you who you were. "I'm— Fuck I-I'm—"

"Yes," he groaned, using his other hand to cup your chin and pull your lips to his. Finally kissing you after years of dreaming it would happen. "Fucking give it to me baby."

His tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing every sound you made with ease. The feel of his lips against yours shoved you towards your release. A muffled cry of his name echoing in his mouth as your body went taut, thighs quaking as you gushed on his cock. He choked, mouth open and panting against yours, following you instantly and spilling into your cunt—filling you until you were sure it was dripping out of you and gathering at the base of him.

"Yours," he sighed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. "'M yours."

The twist of your heart brought you down from your high, your eyes fluttering open as he stared at your kiss swollen lips, the way his spit smeared along your bottom one. You expected him to take it back once he slipped out of you. Surely this was nothing but a dream, a moment in time that may never happen again. But in his eyes you saw devotion. You saw the inevitable future that was always bound to happen.

"Me too."

He smiled, nose brushing against yours. "Guess we're stuck with each other starlight."

"That doesn't sound too bad to me, General."

He tsked under his breath, fingers coming to grip your chin—brown eyes flashing up to meet your gaze. "You're causing trouble."

You grinned, grinding on his softened cock that was still buried deep in you. "And if I am?"

The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, slowly growing hard with interest. "Hands on the controls baby." He nipped at your bottom lip. "You know what to do."

A soft flutter filled your stomach as you followed his direction. Taking the lead in a dance that you were now familiar with. With Poe everything came with ease, as if you'd gone through it with him hundreds of times over. And guiding him home was just the beginning.

#poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #poe dameron #my writing

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murdrdocs · 7 months

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FORMIDABLE COOL. ethan landry

about. blinded by your attraction and romanticization of college, you don't realize that ethan landry isn't who he says he is until it's too late

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+ fem! reader, mean!ethan, ghostface!ethan, p n v, manipulation (!!),, choking/breath play

wc: 1.4k+

→ kinktober masterlist

Out of everyone else in the friend group, it’s easiest for Ethan to get close to you.

Unsuspecting you, wide eyes and hopeful glances at anyone who looks your way, the desperation to live out your ‘college fantasy’ leaking from every single pore in your body. The stench of your sheer desire pulls him in, it urges Ethan to switch from that shy and dorky facade he’s put up around Chad and his friends to a more confident flair, the ego he uses while he’s behind screens on forums online.

It’s frighteningly easy to get you to give in. All he has to do is smile and look at you twice, and suddenly you’re spreading your legs for him in a movie theater, some new film you originally seemed thrilled to see entering the third act without either of you knowing any of the key plot points.

It’s after the first time that you cum on his fingers that you’re infected. His own personal love fool.

Truthfully, after you meet him for the first time, taking part in an insufferable ice breaker in a group of five other people, your name has inched its way up the Bailey dead pool, sitting pretty right below the other five of the friend group Ethan is steadily infiltrating.

You have the urge to eat, breathe and sleep Ethan Landry, your awe filled eyes glazing over any possible red flags in his behavior. You’re too busy forcing yourself into his lap and curling your hands into his hair to realize that he’s been blowing you off more often recently. You’re too busy bouncing yourself on his cock to notice the bruises he has along his back and shoulders, inflicted from someone other than you. You’re too busy grinding your face up into his mouth to take in his constant lies, times, dates, and actions that don’t line up well enough.

It takes you impossibly long to even start to notice his act, to start to take in the inconsistencies of his character depending on who you’re around. It’s Mindy who brings it to your attention first, coming to you as a caring friend, voice softer and rash opinions heavily watered down as she approaches you like she would a wounded animal. And when you flip out on her, denial heavy on your tongue which seems drier than usual, she only smiles at you sadly and watches as you run back to Ethan, another lie inevitably fed into your welcoming ears.

It all comes to a head on your floor.

Worn down hardwood creaks with each shuffle. The material is rough against your bare legs. The playlist you had going has ended, leaving nothing but the soft breaths from you and Ethan to fill the silence of the bedroom.

Your questions are spoken into the air, answered by Ethan like he’s your savior. Like he can control you. And he can.

He has.

His hand around your neck, his cock entering your walls over and over, the pace steady and slow, each thrust harder than the last, sending you up the wood, the rough scratch of it against your back. The words he has spoken to you – his confession – reverberate through your body, bouncing around your mind all the way down to your lungs which scream for the need of constant airflow.

Sensing your state, his hand loosens just enough to allow air in, the rough palm still circling around your neck as he refuses to let you go completely. You fear he’ll never let you go. But even more, you fear that you don’t want him to.

You don’t realize it, but hot tears are sliding down your cheeks at this point. It’s not until he points them out that you start feeling the emotions connected to them, shame and embarrassment and guilt planting itself in your brain, manifesting throughout your body.

“Why’re you crying, sweetheart?” His voice wobbles just enough to show you that he’s affected, too, but definitely not in the same way. He has a smile on his face, borderline villainous, opposite from the sweet and charming smile you’re used to seeing from him. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, a testament to the chase he’d led you on, followed by the slow fucking he’s been giving you for God knows how long.

Your eyes pinch shut, a pitiful attempt to dry your tears up without the use of your hands, rendered useless and bound between your bodies. It doesn't work well, and you flinch when you feel a drop of Ethan’s sweat land on your cheek, mixing with your self-created fluid.

You’d assumed the question was rhetorical, a taunt to remind you of your inferior status in this fucked up relationship. It’s not until he hums questioningly that you realize you’re expected to respond.

Your eyes pinch together tighter and you shake your head, only making Ethan chuckle.

“No? You don’t know why you’re crying?” Nothing from you. You refuse to give him more, especially when you’re already letting him abuse your cunt. Because that’s what you’re doing.

You let him lay you back. You let him peel your legs open. You lifted your hips and moaned approvingly when he slid your panties off and inserted two fingers into your entrance.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” The authoritative tone is more attractive than it should’ve been, and it has you instantly doing as told, eyes opening to look into those same dark brown ones you used to love so much.

“Why’re you crying, baby?” he asks you again. “You knew it – this – was all an act, didn’t you?”

And when you think back, you think you did know. You deluded yourself enough to think that this was sincere, genuine, your college dream. The thought heats up your neck, it stirs something unpleasant in your chest, it has you letting out a desperate cry that quickly slips into a pleading moan.

His hand squeezes at the sides of your throat, thumb sticking under your jaw to lift your head. “Answer me.”

Your nod suffices as an answer, especially when more tears slide down your already blotchy cheeks. His grin grows, spreading to either side of his face, reminiscent of a cheshire cat.

Satisfied with what you’ve given him, he plants a kiss at the center of your forehead, and you curse yourself for melting into it. It’s the last act of physical kindness he gives it, because he’s instantly gripping your hips, hiking your legs up around his waist, and fucking you with no mercy.

You cum with the sound of Ethan’s balls slapping against your skin, mixed in an almost beautiful harmony with your quiet sobs and the unabashed squelching of your cunt around his cock, a cacophonous edge to the sounds that perfectly represents your relationship with Ethan himself.

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #ethantobr!#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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Inevitable (Ending 1 to Situationship)

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: Major Character Death, blood, hurt/ little comfort, a g o n y

Simon closes his eyes in defeat. He had been dancing with death for too long, and it'd finally come to collect it's dues.

This particular mission had been long. He knew it would be. Price had debriefed him on it months before— since it would only be them two. They were the seniors of the task force. They've done a similar mission before, so it seemed only natural that they did it again.

But it didn't mean it hadn't been shit since they arrived.

Almost 9 months out in the freezing cold, MRE's every day, waiting for the chance to finally get their hands on vital information that would save millions.

It was a tiny town in Russia, Oymyakon. Home to about 500 people. Soldiers, mostly. The plan had been to wait for a large portion of the small militia to move cities— to another safe house in the nearby city of Khara-Tumul. What prolonged this mission was that while Ghost and Price knew they'd move, they didn't know when. And it had been imperative that the duo get out here not to miss this slim window.

To Simon, this had been a perfect way to not be distracted with the situation back home. With you.

You had been with him for years now, and he always loved going home to you. A warm flat, a home-cooked meal, and the love in your eyes every time he came back from a mission. But then something he hoped wouldn't happen, did. Simon's past chose to catch up with him now. Now, when he finally had something to look forward to in life.

One day, outside his door, was an envelope. He had felt a crushing pressure on his chest. The blood in his veins was cold, and his hands trembled as he picked up the envelope. He squeezed his eyes as he let out a shuddering breath— praying to whatever higher power that the enemies he has made throughout the years don't know about you. He practically rips open the package and his worst fear is confirmed. Photos of you and Simon out on a date. He even remembers the said date because you had been wearing the sexiest leather booties he'd ever seen. Simon had made you wear them as he fucked you into the mattress that night.

Which meant that Simon had to end it with you. He was about to go on a mission for an unprecedented amount of time and he would not be here to protect you. So a month before leaving, he treated you coldly. Harshly. A way he'd never dream of being with you. He would hear you crying in the bedroom and it was a knife to his heart, but to him, it seemed like it was the only way to keep you safe.

Then, a moment he'll never forget. He said that he didn't feel the same for you as he did before. Thought it best if you both went your separate ways and that it had to be within the next two weeks because he was selling the flat and moving away. That whatever of his you had, to give it to him. Any sleeping shirts, photos, and the bloody ring he promised himself you'd wear to your grave.

He was a witness to how you broke at his words. God. He, at that moment. wished his enemies just took him and be done with it. Relieve him of the agony he caused to himself by hurting you. You wailed, agonizingly loud, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping from your chin to the floor for what seemed like hours.

Til your heartbreak turned to rage. You spit venom at him. That if he had another 'cunt' waiting for him somewhere. That if he ever even loved you. You always were his strong merciless woman with fire in your veins and smoke in your lungs. How hard it was to be him, sitting on the couch and blankly stare at the telly without rising to your jibes. To tell you the truth. That there has been no one before you and there won't be one after you. But he forced himself to ignore you as you shoved all of your belongings in your luggage before throwing him the engagement ring and slamming the door.

Gone.

After this, he lived up to his namesake. He was a ghost from your past life. As if he had never been there in the first place. You moved away, far away, and it was bittersweet for Simon because this way you could disappear, out of the limelight. Breathing. Alive.

And he kept an eye on you, from afar. Just to make sure you were safe.

It worked. Both fortunately and unfortunately. You moved on, it seemed. Not from him, which he is so grateful for, but your life went on in every other aspect. It went uninterrupted up until his deployment.

It was supposed to be a simple but long mission. Wait for them to clear out before cleaning house. But even with all the careful planning, and no fucking mistakes, it went tits up.

Somehow they missed one. One fucking enemy. Simon had been standing behind John and turned around after hearing the crunch of broken glass behind him.

One shot to Simon's shoulder, another to his stomach, and then another to the right side of his chest. Before Simon falls, John shoots the last man dead. He throws himself to his knees next to Simon, gloved hands on top of each other as he presses hard into the bullet hole bleeding the most— the one in his ribcage.

"Christ, Ghost. Stay with me, son. We'll get you out of here and patched up in no time, yeah?"

Simon can't hear anything past the rushing of blood in his ears and his own heartbeat, pumping out blood from his wounds with each pulse. Simon's losing too much blood, too fast, and he knows it.

Price is panicking, voice warbling on the radio calling for medevac, but the wait time is 45 minutes. Far too long. And Simon had beat the devil once, long ago. Everyone knows he can't be beaten twice. He opens his mouth and blood bubbles in it as he tries to speak.

"I'm not making it, Captain."

"The hell you're not, Simon, stay with me!"

Simon grabs John's wrist with the little strength he's got left and whispers out, "Captain. John. Please," before digging into the inside of his glove, and pulling out something before clasping it in John's hands and squeezing.

"Please."

John looks at his own hand and nods, eyes glassy with years before he sniffles, clears his throat, and tells Simon of how his daughter had just learned how to argue back when he wouldn't give her any more juice because she's had too much.

Simon is still gripping John's hand as he drops his head back in resignation —before he imagines the family he could've had with you. Pretty little girl with curly hair, your eyes, and all of your attitude. In another life, he thinks, he'd find you there too. In any life, he'd love you.

He wheezes an inhale once—wet, painful— and exhales, and then his chest stills. Hand gripping John's goes limp. John lets out an agonizing scream through his teeth before he presses the button on his radio so hard it cracks.

"All stations— this is Bravo. We got the intel...One KIA."

---

You're in your bed, toasty and warm, when there's a knock on your door. You sharply raise your head before turning to look at the clock.

8 a.m.

'Who in the hell is at my door at this hour?'

You begrudgingly throw the covers to the side, hand on the swell of your belly before rolling up from your side to sit on the edge of the bed, and step into your slippers. One hand underneath your 3rd trimester bump, you drag your feet towards the front door and open it.

A tall man with mutton chops and a black beanie is standing in front of you. He looks down at your heavily pregnant stomach and closes his eyes, softly shaking his head with a, 'Bloody fuckin' hell.'

Your face is contorting into confusion when he opens his mouth to say, "You must be Simon's fiancee."

Your heart starts to pound into your ribcage. You don't even try to refute his claim because you have an inkling of what this is about. 'Please god, no.'

"It is with deep regret that I am here to inform you of the untimely death of your fiance, Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley. He died on active duty, contributing his best to our cause. The reputation gained by your fiance is a fine one, and I hope the knowledge of this affords you pride and comfort during your sorrow. I extend my heartfelt sympathy to you."

Your throat is closing up, choking you as tears well in your eyes. Chest is on fire because you can't breathe and your chin is trembling with the struggle to not weep and fall on your knees. Taking a deep shuddering breath, you clench your teeth. You're livid. Whatever the fuck this is, it isn't good enough for your Simon.

Voice warbly and wet, you hiss, "I could've gotten a casualty letter from the bloody military if I wanted to hear you spew your shit," ending it with a sniffle.

"You're right. May I come in?"

Throwing the door open, you shuffle inside as John steps inside. You're about to sit down when you hear a "Let me.", before the chair you're about to sit on is pulled back. Holding the underside of your belly, you let out a huff as you drop your weight to the seat.

You turn to look at John and you see the clench in his jaw before he opens his mouth to try and speak but he cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat. He takes a second before swallowing and grips the back of one of your dinner table chairs before attempting to speak again.

"Simon was one of my best." Your eyes soften at how frail and shaky his voice sounds.

"He was always at my six. Said it was to be the eyes I didn't have at the back of my head. But I know he always had his facing an open area whenever I was turned around. He died for me. Had he been standing anywhere else other than behind me, he would still be here," and he breaks down, shaky sobs leaving him.

You slowly get up, hand to your lower back before moving to him and giving him an embrace as you wail into his shirt— mourning the loss of a loved one.

It seems like a long time before John taps your upper back and says, "Come. This cannot be good for the baby. You need some relaxing tea, eh?"

With hiccupping breaths, you pull away to look at him before nodding.

"Come. You're gonna make it for me. I wish to get to know what kind of extraordinary man you must be. Simon would not have given his life for less."

He gives a self-deprecating chuckle before he digs into his pockets, before holding his fist out, dog tags glinting under the light and a small white square between his thumb and index. That square has your address written in shorthand and it had a bloody streak over a part of it— the streak the shape of a finger, as if ripped out from someone's hand.

"His dog tags. As well as what Simon on his dying breath. He carried this with him, and by the state of how crumpled it is, he had it everywhere with him."

You take the chain, putting it around your neck— tags resting against your belly— before taking the paper. It's a photo of you. You're in a flower sundress, skin glowing under the rays of the sun with a blinding smile and rosy cheeks. You knew this photo. Simon always claimed it was his favorite. That he loved your smile here because He had made you smile like that.

Your tears are slipping from your eyes and dripping onto your pajamas before picking up the dog tags and pressing a kiss onto the cold metal, then letting them drop. Little baby Riley gives a swift kick to where the tags landed on your stomach.

@thychuvaluswife

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months

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Still Adore You (With Your Hand Around My Neck)

Epilogue: Destroy Myself

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: this is the beginning of the end. the start of a chaotic relationship you just can't seem to leave.

warnings: Eddie and Reader are in their 20s. Modern Au! kind of mean Eddie. rated R for smut, 18+ only Minors DNI!! unprotected p in v. cream pie. swearing. shitty writing and grammar errors.

*if i miss anything let me know*

a/n: hello my loves! this is part one to my still adore you series! i hope you guys like it as much as i do. thank you all for the love and support you've given me, i love you all so much <3

Also if you are an ageless/faceless blog you will be blocked. please have something on your profile so I know you are not a minor and are not a bot.

series masterlist

I pray my salvation makes it to the pearly gates,

Bring the suffering that I face,

All the things that I face,

Destroy myself just to wait for you.

When God created the Earth, he picked two of his children to live amongst the paradise he built to be our parents - Adam and Eve. The Garden of Eden was beautiful, a place like no other. The only rule that God gave was for them to not eat from the one tree, the tree of knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil.

They had plenty of other trees to eat from, other fruits to feast on, but when the serpent came speaking words of temptation, Eve gave into him and took a bite from the forbidden fruit, Adam would soon follow after her.

Because of the rule was broken and they went against God, they were banished forever and were cursed with the pain of mortality. Their children and their children's children would face pain and sorrow, hurt and sickness, and ultimately death.

Like Eve, you gave into temptation as well, the warnings you received and how you ignored them all for the name of love. From the very first time you met Eddie Munson warning signs flashed, blinding you with the bright lights. Caution tape blocked you from crossing that line but you inevitably ignored it, ducting under it and continuing on your way.

You walked straight into the line of fire for the promise of nirvana, for just a taste of the sweetness of his love. For the longest time you thought Eve was stupid for falling for the devil's tricks but when he came to you with the prettiest brown eyes and lips that you wanted to kiss for hours, you finally understood.

Dying by the hands of the man that you love is probably the worst death. His strong grip squeezing the air out of you so slowly, smiling at you as he did it felt like torture, but what a way to go. You'd still adore Eddie with his hand wrapped around your neck, with his heavy palm crushing your windpipe, and you'd die so full of love.

The night breeze cools the heat of your skin, hitting your sweat soaked hairline and creating chills that ran up the skin of your arm. The night was still young as they say, the party inside still going in full force. Sweat bodies and clouds of smoke filled every room, creating a sort of heat that quickly became too unbearable.

Quickly finding refuge in crackling embers of the firepit. Unknown people and nameless faces fill the chairs around you, mingling with one another. Despite the happy nature and good vibe of the atmosphere around you, you sit with a permanent frown. Pissed isn't even the word you'd want to use for how you feel at the moment.

Furious, enrage, even spitting angry would be a better description for how you felt towards your friends right now. A random house party in a random place was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night, but then Annika and Nikki looked at you with their big pleading eyes and the end was history.

"We'll stick next to you the whole time," they said, "We promise we won't leave."

Only an hour in and their promise was nothing but a lie, leaving you the minute you stepped through the threshold shouting that they'd return shortly. You didn't expect any less honestly, Annika only wanted to come here for the possibility of hooking up and Nikki was more interested in the arrival of her possible new girlfriend Val.

You always found something to do whether it was people watching or drinking until your vision began to blur. Tonight was different however, being the designated driver you were banned from drinking any alcohol and people watching was only fun for the first forty five hours.

Now you sit playing on your phone, scrolling through every app on your phone until your friends finally arrived. You continue to look at the bright screen in your hands reading through old notes that you had yet to delete, too engrossed by the amount of grocery lists to realize that half of the group left the circle.

"You know this is a party, right?" A gruff voice asks.

Lifting your head slightly, you look up from under your eyelashes to the man across from you, scowl written on your lips. The orange glow highlights him in the best of ways, making him even more alluring.

Brown curls fall from the the bun that sits on top of his head, framing his face so beautifully. His lips pull into a smirk, making the deep crevice of his dimples pop out. Big doe eyes sparkle at you, glimmering in the heat of the flames.

His outfit is basic, a band tee with a faded logo, showing off how well loved it was. The holes in his black skinny jeans show off the tiniest hint of black ink that hides beneath the fabric. The fire and moon fight over the rings that sit on his hands, both going back and forth on which one glints in the silver. A loose cigarette sits tucked behind his ear and a sweating bottle of beer rests in his strong hands.

He's captivating, alluring you like the serpent did Eve. You don't engage, promptly scoffing and then rolling your eyes back down to your phone.

"You know my uncle always said if you roll them hard enough, they'll get stuck."

You hear it before you see it, the grin that sits on his face. It adds gasoline to the already burning inferno that rests inside of you adding turbulence, causing roaring flames.

"Good, hope they do." It's bitchy, ice cold like a winter's breeze. Instead of hurling an insult that you, he laughs. A true genuine laugh that you'd compliment if it weren't for the anger pumping through you.

Shutting your phone off, you drop it into your lap and cross your arms over your chest. Sighing loudly, you look at the curly haired man across from you unimpressed, eyebrow arching sharply.

He takes your challenge of a stare down, watching you over the glass of his beer bottle as he puts it to his lips taking a swig. His gaze in unfaltering but yours isn't. It's not your fault though, not when his neck looks so delicious as he swallows every last drop.

Removing the bottle from his mouth, he catches you eyeing the plump of his lips. Even though you've been caught, your stare doesn't waver, only moving the line of your sight back up to his eyes.

"Ya know, it's not really nice to be mean to your friend." His statement causes another eye roll from you, another loud scoff pulling from your throat.

"You're not my friend," Your words swim with annoyance and it only fuels the man in front of you even more.

Gasping loudly, a ringed hand clutches his chest as if he'd been insulted to the fullest. "I'm not you're friend? I thought the warmth of the fire cemented our relationship."

He curls his lips inwards, biting back a laugh that threatens to sneak it's way out. You're not any better, your bottom lip stinging with the pressure of your teeth that sink into it.

Silences covers the two of you, begging for one of you to break first. Although you put up the toughest of fights, you're the first to lose, a small giggle escaping the lock on your lips. The man isn't far behind you, snorting loudly into the quiet night air.

"First of all, I don't even know your name." You counter, mentally berating yourself for letting a laugh squeak out.

"Oh, you need my name?" He asks, eyebrows raising curiously.

Your eyes squint at the absurdness of his question, "Yeah, that's how making friends works, genius."

Batting his eyelashes, he waves a hand at you in flattery. "I love it when you call me sweet names."

His voice is flirty teasing you to the fullest and if you don't do something fast you're going to melt, and not because the heat of the flames.

"That's my cue to leave." Pushing yourself halfway up from the chair, you're immediately stopped by his arm waving you to stop.

"No, no I quit, I promise." It's said between breathless laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he does.

Smirking ever so slightly, you bask in the sound of his voice. Sitting down slowly, you sigh as if you'd rather not be here regardless of the growing smile tugging at your lips.

Once sat back in your seat, you wait with a tapping foot and crossed arms, trying your hardest to look annoyed. He looks at you smugly, like he's enjoying the little performance you put on.

"If I tell you my name, you gotta tell me yours." He demands, you don't respond just pulling your hand out to inspect the acrylics that rest on your hand.

"I'm Eddie." He beams at you, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip.

You purse your lips, looking him up and down as if you're bored. When you give him your name, he nods slowly and repeats it like it's the prettiest thing he's heard.

"Well there you go, now we're friends." The depth of his voice makes the beat of your heart skip, cheeks burning the more you get flustered.

Shaking it off, you give him a look that the kind that reads "really?", and he only answers by returning a look that says "of course". Sucking your teeth, you look down at the blue fabric of your jeans.

"We can't be friends if we don't even hang out." It's shy, your confidence subsiding harshly under the heat of his eyes.

Now he scoffs, shaking his head back and forth causing the loose curls to move with him. "Don't do me like that, Pookie. Just gimme your number and I'll hang out any time your little heart desires."

"You did not just call me fucking Pookie." You laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach.

You don't see him but Eddie just looks at you like you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, adoration swimming in the dark color of his eyes.

When your laughter ceases and you fall back into your normal position, you open your eyes to see him looking at you. For the first time in your life you finally see what it's like to be looked at as if you hung the stars in their place. It feels good, heart racing and air catching in the back of your throat.

Blinking out of your trance, you nod shakily. "Umm, you said something about my ugh number?"

Eddie reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and tapping in the code to unlock it. Handing it over to you wordlessly, it's already open to the new contact screen where you punch in the ten digit number. You ponder for a moment before typing in a name, flicking back and forth between the options you have, until you ultimately adding it under your given nickname with a black heart.

Handing it back to him, he looks at it smirking and then puts it back into its rightful home of his pocket. Opening his mouth to say something Eddie is interrupted with the sound of the backdoor opening and the rush of the music inside pouring from the doorway.

"Hey, we've been looking for you!" Annika shouts, stumbling towards you on unsteady feet.

Looking at the clearly tipsy girl, you turn back around to see give a sympathetic look to Eddie, quietly apologizing for your drunken friend.

"I guess that's my que to go." You shrug, moving from your spot on the chair.

Eddie only looks at you tenderly, dimples on full display for you. "Go ahead, Pookie. I'll see you later."

Sending you off with a wink, you walk away from the sanctuary you found. Walking over to your friend, you can't help but look back at the pretty boy you met finding him already smiling back at you.

Threading your arm in your friend's, you allow her to put her weight onto you so she doesn't fall. Unfocused eyes scan to where you keep looking, squinting to find the person.

"Who's that?" She keeps squinting, trying hard to see the man's features.

When her eyes seem to make out what she looks like, she perks up with a dopey smile. "Oh my fucking gawd, he's hot."

Saying it a little too loudly, you instantly clap your hand over her mouth and look back to make sure Eddie hasn't heard. You find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking with a clear laugh as he lights the cigarette that hangs between his teeth.

"Hope you got his number, would be a shot missed if you didn't." She chastises once you remove your palm from her lips. You sigh loudly and pull her along and make your way into the house.

Eddie kept his promise, using all his free time over the summer to see you. It started off innocently enough, late night drives down to the lake, midafternoon hangouts in the Dairy Queen parking lot where you’d sit in the bed of his beat up truck, and hanging out in his apartment watching him play video games.

Friends, that’s all it was in the beginning. Two people opening up to one another, bonding over their shitty childhoods and laughing at jokes that no one else ever understood.

As the heat of the roaring sun became more intense, so did the relationship between the two of you. Touches became lingering like the tickle of the tall overgrown grass by the lake. Kisses were light and airy, reminiscent of the lightning bugs that flew around in the dark summer sky. Eddie’s scent lingered with you even after you’d gone home, similar to sunscreen.

Tangled sheets and messy hair, flustered cheeks and dopey smiles. The two of you shined so bright even the stars that hung from the dark blue night were jealous.

But when the sunsets came sooner and sooner, so did the end of your fairytale. Calls became unanswered, hangouts were no more, and hand holding became totally off limits. What was once warm and sickly sweet smiles, was now cold shoulders and icy attitudes.

You felt stupid, falling for someone that wasn’t even yours. Giving Eddie your heart on a platter when he never even asked. When this all started you knew what it was, signing your soul over to the devil using your blood as ink.

The risks were in plain sight, the rules agreed on with the locking of pinkies, and yet you still broke them. Eddie told you over and over again this wasn’t anything other than some fun, a way to pass the boring summer days faster.

And although it hurt, you still plunged the sword deeper and deeper. What is love without some loss?

The mahogany teakwood candles that burns on the top of your dresser does nothing to get rid of the smell that you and Eddie have created. Notes of dark oat and frosted lavender are being drowned out by sweat and sex.

Cotton sheets soak up the perpetration, the outline of his body imprinted to remind you that he was once there, the only lingering memory of him when he inevitably leaves. Cheeks flushed with red, screaming claw marks on alabaster skin, and bruises in the shape of teeth.

"Fuck, squeezin' me s'good, baby." Eddie's all gritted teeth and panting breath as he wiggles around underneath you.

The ache in your knees is no match for the burn you feel in the pit of your stomach, your hole clenching around the thickness of his cock. Switching between bouncing and rocking your hips, you're hurdling closer and closer to the edge.

Sentences aren't even forming in your brain, only random blabbering falls from your lips in loud whines with the way he punches into your cervix.

"S'good, shit you feel so good." It comes out like a sob, ripped right out from the depths of your soul.

Big strong hands grip at the plush of your hips, finger prints threatening to leave a mark for the next day. A wicked grin forms on red kiss bitten lips, basking in the glory of you crumbling on top of him.

"Yeah? Is it good, princess?" Arrogant and cocky, two traits that only he can pull off without it being a turn off.

Your head wildly bobs, drool escaping from your parted lips. "Uh huh," the only real response you can give him in this very moment and it's all he needs to know he's fucked you dumb beyond repair.

Bending his knees, Eddie starts to fuck up into you with unwavering force. The thatch of course hair that sits at the base of his cock catches deliciously on your swollen and neglected clit, resulting in harsh mewl.

With your own eyes screwed shut you don't see that his have rolled into the back of his head, jaw unhinged with the pleasure of you clasping around him tightly. Regardless of his own peak nearing, Eddie continues to keep up with his facade, making sure you finish way before he does.

"I'm so deep huh? S'deep, shit- so deep in this tight f-uhh, fucking cunt." Teeth bite down on the fat of his bottom lip, holding the whimpers from escaping from his mouth.

The speed of his movements, the loud squelch of your juices, and the intensity of him hitting into your g-spot is enough to make your head dizzy. He's everywhere, his touch, his scent, his voice. He's everywhere, all around you and you don't think that anything else in the world could create the same euphoric feeling he does.

"M'gonna-, ah I'm gonna cum." The end is closing in on you, the wave of ecstasy crashing into the shore. Although it feels so good crossing the finish line, you know when it's over he'll be gone all too soon.

"Me too, sweetheart. Motherfuck-, cum for me." The act that he had put on has finally faltered, cracking right at the seams.

That does it, pushes you right off the edge into the blissful waters of your high. Your already weakening knees have now failed you, letting you drop onto the slick soaked skin of Eddie's tattooed chest.

The two of you continue to whimper and moan as your highs ripple through you. Both of you create lightning, a pair of super bolts roar in the middle of your quiet bedroom. In the heat of your bliss, you're completely ignorant to the consequences of such strong power being created. No matter what the outcome is, at least it was beautiful and for the smallest of moments, it was real.

After the glory has finally wore off you remove yourself from him, letting out a strong hiss when the feeling of him is completely out of you. Letting your body fall to the plushness of your mattress, you allow yourself to cycle through the memory of it all.

Naked chests heave, a silence pulling over both of you like a heavy quilt in the winter. It's comfortable like this, the heat radiating off of your skin mixes with Eddie's, the pumping of hearts syncing into the same rhythm pattern.

While your body settles into the softness of your bed, Eddie's is quick to jump up from his spot with a loud grunt. Fresh red marks flash at you, decorating the smooth skin of his back along with the pretty freckles you used to trace with the soft flesh of your finger tips.

As he sits on the side of your bed catching his breath, you wonder if he misses the feeling of your touch the way you miss his skin. You wonder if he misses the intensity of your body next to his, arms and legs tangled together buried underneath the shelter of his comforter. You wonder if his bed misses the shape of your body the way yours misses his.

The springs of your mattress groan when the weight of his body leaves and for a moment you feel the same way. Footsteps are muted by the fibers of your carpeting. You watch from your spot as Eddie grabs a tissue from your vanity, wiping himself free of any evidence of you and then disposing it into the garbage can with a careless toss.

Muscles flex as he begins to redress himself, hiding the masterpiece that you left on his skin. You hope that they sting when he's under the heated water of his shower, a pang that will go away within a few days while the pang of your hurt will last a lifetime.

His messy curls pull from the neck of his shirt, shaking with the motions of his head trying to get rid of the unruly hair that masks his vision. From the singular foot away that the two of you stand, you pray that he won't leave, that this isn't the end.

"Do you wanna stay? W-we could watch a movie or something." Behind the sincerity of your voice is a girl that mourns the loss of her once best friend, begging him to remember what the two of you had in the beginning.

The clang of his belt ricochets through the room, an uncomfortable hallow sound that you wish to forget. Spinning on the socked heel of his foot, he gives you a blank face. One so devoid of emotion, cold and vacant.

"Don't start doin' this, Pookie. You already know what this is." A clear warning given with a strict tone.

The nickname that used to cause butterflies only brings mountains of sadness. It used to have meaning, a funny inside joke between the two of you now dwindled down to the name of a place holder.

"I just thought-" Going unfinished by the sound of Eddie's deep sigh.

"Not tonight, kay?" He says as nicely enough to placate you and even though you know nothing will come from it, you're still full of hope.

Bending down, he begins to slide his feet into his shoes, the same one's you gifted to him only so many months ago. Watching him tie the browning shoelaces of his vans, you wonder if he remembers the way you smiled while handing him the box, or how he felt when you said you got them just because.

It tugs at your already bandaged heart, the sticky adhesive of band aids doing their absolute best to keep the muscle intact. The rattle of the remaining broken pieces rattle in your ears, muffling everything else around you.

The lanky man stands to full height, grabbing his beloved leather jacket from your floor where it was left in the tornado of excitement. Rounding the end of your bed he makes his way to you, standing over your still naked body.

Bending at the waist, Eddie places a wet kiss on your forehead and pulls away with charming smile.

"I'll text you, pook."

You nod at his words, gripping on tightly to the faith that this whole thing will work out the way you hope. Giving you a wink, Eddie quickly exists your room and just like that you crumble.

On the wet sheets of your bed you curl into yourself, naked and vulnerable in more ways than one. Tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from the depths of your stomach. It hurts watching him walk out because you never know when it'll be the last time.

You try to think back to when everything changed, where it all went wrong. All of the flashbacks and memories flood your brain, a film wheel of all the happy moments. More tears flow, a nonstop river of all the heartache.

You miss him, what your friendship used to be. At this point you don't even care if he loves you the way you love him, you just want him to care for you like he did all those months ago.

You wish you could go back to that warm summer day where you handed over your heart and let him carve his name in it, so that no matter what you did you'd belong to him for the rest of your days.

thank you all for reading!! i hope you guys like part one :)

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #still adore you

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cherryjuiceblues · 1 year

Note

for the sleepover!!

just a cute little midnight snack fluff blurb. y/n can’t sleep and goes downstairs to make her fav midnight snack— H wakes up and finds her downstairs and finishes making it for her 🥹🥹🫶🏼 no rush at all and it’s totally okay if u don’t get to it!! xx

✰ boyfriend!harry no warnings.

You’ve been staring at the side of Harry’s face for longer than you know, long since giving up on attempting to sleep and instead trying to make out your boyfriend’s pretty features in the dark. You don’t know why you’re struggling so much tonight but, it seems no matter what you do, your brain just won’t settle.

You’d considered waking Harry up but immediately dismissed the thought, frowning at the idea of disrupting his sleep. And after tracing his face with your eyes a multitude of times, feeling no closer to falling asleep, you decide to get up. You don’t breathe until you’re sure you haven’t woken Harry, engulfing deep breathes once you reach the kitchen, the tiles cold on your feet. Something warm in your tummy ought to mellow you out a little, you think.

Everything seems to make so much more noise when you’re trying to be quiet, the pot you’re extracting from the cupboard making you wince as it clatters against something and the lid you nearly drop scraping against something else. As the water boils (run from the apparently deafening tap) your body deflates—exhaustion more prevalent now that you’re up, and you rest yourself against the counter, head hanging low. Your eyes fall shut and despite the discomfort of standing you nearly drift off, until you hear the telling noise of bubbling water and force your eyes open.

“What’re you doing up?” A tired voice sounds behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, whipping around to see a dishevelled Harry. You frown. “Don’t be too pleased to see me,” he says sarcastically, scratching at his jaw.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, m’sorry.” You let him pull you into a hug as he walks over, chest hard and warm.

“My body was missing you,” he drawls, and you smile against him. “Get hungry?”

You nod, “Couldn’t sleep,” speaking into his skin. “M’making cheesy pasta.”

Harry hums and fiddles with the hob behind you—probably turning it down. Still wrapped up in his arms, you go to turn but he stops you.

“Lemme. Go sit.” And you want to argue but you’re too tired. So with delayed steps you totter over and lift yourself up onto the counter opposite Harry and the hob; probably a bad idea considering you might fall off it if you drift off, but once you’re up, you don’t want to move.

Harry potters about and you watch him with eyes half-lidded. Gaze as he takes out the pasta and pours an appropriate amount into the pan (you would’ve cooked enough to feed a family of four, most likely) and then as he grates some cheese to make the sauce. It’s a meal he makes well, experienced in the cooking of it whenever you need comfort food. Your eyes shut once more and you’re too gone to panic about where you’re sitting as the delicious smell of cooking lulls you to sleep.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, suddenly in front of you, hand on your knee. Well, you think it’s sudden but then you realise you’re just waking up. He’s holding a finished bowl of cheesy pasta and you perk up considerably, wiping the tiredness from your eyes.

“Mm, thank you,” you hum, reaching out to grab it with slow movements.

Harry pulls it away, removing his hand from you to hold the fork. “I’ll feed you, baby, y’can close your eyes.” You smile up at him, heart full, even though you shake your head in a way of saying you’ll keep them open. Harry knows you won’t. He stabs a couple of pieces and holds them up to your mouth that you open gratefully, eyes shutting immediately at the soothing warmth and taste. You try to reopen them, you do, but Harry reassures you. “Don’t fight it, love.”

He means it in the most sincere and caring way, but he also takes the opportunity to feed himself some, free of your inevitable grumbling and pouting (“Don’t eat my food!” He can picture you saying, before replying, “I made it for you, brat.”).

Once the pasta is all gone, and you are ninety-five percent asleep, Harry sets the bowl down quietly in the sink and scoops you up into his arms—your legs cling to his waist, and your arms to his neck, like the true depiction of a sloth.

When he lays you back down in bed, it takes you all of five seconds to sink into a happy and satisfied slumber, this time with Harry the one to watch your face before he too, falls asleep.

sleepover tag!

#cherryjuiceblues sleepover #blurb night #harry styles #harry styles blurbs #writing #harry styles x reader #soft!harry #softrry #bf!harry #harry styles imagines #harry concept #keepdrivingkisses #concept

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captainamericasmotercycle · 2 years

Text

wear the hat

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x pilot!reader

warnings: pre-uranium mission, 18+, minors DNI, jake and reader have similar personalities, sexual themes, sexual content, p in v sex, car sex, fingering, reader is from louisiana, inaccurate military (and sex) knowledge, a virgin writing sex, doesn’t follow movie plot

description: where you pick up jake’s cowboy hat knowing very well what you’re doing

wc: 2.2k

reader’s call sign is viper

Jake “Hangman” Seresin, the Casanova of Top Gun Academy - and probably the entirety of Texas - was someone you had your eye set on since you first started as a pilot. It would be an absolute lie to say you had never thought about anything with him.

As embarrassing as it is and though you would never admit it, you thought of him quite frequently. But the most embarrassing part of it was that you hadn’t seen Jake in almost a year and a half.

The first time you saw him on base, his smile alone almost brought you to your knees, and ever since then, you had been insistent on trying to become involved with him. Much to your dismay, he seemed to be sleeping with everyone on base except for you, so you tried a different approach than just throwing yourself at him.

You had gotten to know each other well, only not in the way either of you would have liked. You learned about his family, he learned about yours, you spent your free time together, everything just felt perfect in that moment, like everything had aligned in your favor. Albeit, all good things have to come to an end.

After your time at the academy, the two of you were sent to different sides of the planet to serve the country. But after running around the globe in circles, you both ended up stationed in Jacksonville, Florida for 2 years.

During those 2 years, you felt certain that you could not be around him without breaking down into absolute mush. Every night you thought of him; his smile, his laugh, his voice, his cock…iness. And every night you found yourself shamefully reaching between your legs, wishing it was him.

It fell into your favor that you lived alone - off base - because if anyone had heard you, you would be done for. You talked every day, which only contributed to your bad habits. The short time you had together felt like unending torture, you’d spend hours every week meticulously touching yourself, dreaming that it was his hand instead of yours, just for you to overhear another girl talking about her night with him the next day.

When the two years ended, it was both relieving and disappointing. You had thought that spending time away from him would be good for you, and definitely much healthier to stop thinking about him.

But you hadn’t thought you’d see him again so soon. You were barely briefed before being called back, but you did know that only the best pilots had been asked to return. It was inevitable that you were going to see him.

The first night back in Fighter Town, you hauled yourself to the Hard Deck hoping to recollect yourself before classes started in the morning. Though many people were in uniform, you had opted for a sundress instead, walking into the bar, your senses were filled with lively music, bright lights, and the strong scent of alcohol.

"Viper!” You turn to your left and see Natasha Trace calling out to you. You had met her the first time you had come to Top Gun for the elite training to become a Naval Air Force pilot. Although the two of you weren’t too close, you kept in touch often.

“Phoenix, hey,” you smile and join her as she walks through the bar. A couple of guys follow close behind you, seeming vaguely familiar. As the four of you approach a pool table, you hear a voice call out.

“What do we have here? And here I thought we were special, Coyote,”

Natasha turns to the other men, “Fellas, this here is Bagman,” she says with a smirk.

He sends her back a hard glare, “Hangman,” he clears his throat, “Trace, a pleasure as always,” his southern drawl, prominent in his speech.

He turns to you, a coquettish expression on his face, “Viper,”

Returning a similar guise, you look him in the eyes, “Bagman,” your own southern accent becoming noticeable.

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon, but who am I to complain,” he shot you a wink as he flirted shamelessly with you. God, if only he knew.

You moved away from him and stalked around the pool table, trying to find a seat. Choosing a seat next to another pilot, previously discovered as “Bob”, the seat you had chosen seemed to have been occupied by an upside-down cowboy hat.

You paused for a moment before picking up the hat, thinking about what you were about to do. Oh boy, you were probably going to regret this next move. Grabbing the hat, you rested it on your head and sat in the chair, crossing your legs.

Jake, who had been in the middle of aiming his shot, noticed your movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced toward you. Seeing the hat atop of your head, he quickly jerked his hand, instinctively, causing him to miss his shot.

Phoenix laughed, “Wow, Seresin! What a shot!”

Jake brushed it off and flipped her a bird, he walked to where you were and looked at you almost twitchy-like. “Now, darlin’, where did you say you were from?”

He remembers where you’re from.

You know he remembers where you’re from.

“Louisiana, born and raised, you?” You smiled at him smugly, knowing damn well he was getting agitated.

He huffed out a laugh and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, “I need a drink and I think you do too,”

You stood and left the group, Jake’s hand on the small of your back. You moved to the bar, but Jake guided you out to his car. When you stepped foot out of the bar, Jake laughed. And were as confused as ever.

“I don’t know how y’all do it down in Louisiana, Darlin’, but where I’m from, you don’t touch a cowboy’s hat unless-”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’m very familiar with the rule,”

“You’re really draggin’ this out, aren’t ya?” You tipped his hat at him and smiled, walking to the passenger side of the truck and getting in, Jake followed your actions and got into his side of the car.

You sat with your arms crossed, your head turned towards him, “I knew I was going to regret this,”

Now it was Jake’s turn to play dumb, “Regret what?”

You sighed and uncrossed your arms, “Darlin’, this isn’t something to regret.” Your faces moved closer as you talked, “And why is that?”

“Because I know. About you. About your ‘escapades’, you know, the ones with me in em’. You thought I wouldn’t find out you were screamin’ my name every night back in Jax?” your face dropped, but Jake only smiled wider.

“I-”

“What? You don’t think I didn’t think about you every day either? Every time there was someone other than you in my bed?”

“Then why didn’t you-”

“I didn’t think you felt the same,”

“Well I do,” your faces were now only centimeters apart, and something miraculous in you caused you to lean forward and press your lips against his.

His hand grabbed the back of your head, pushing your lips more firmly together and making the kiss more passionate. Every movement of your lips together felt starved, as if you have never been touched in your life.

You both moved rhythmically to each other, you reached your hand down between his legs and palmed his crotch. He pulled away and threw his head back, groaning.

He reconnected your lips, wrapping his large hands around your waist, and pulled you onto his lap, sliding his hand under your dress. He tugged on the waistline of your panties as you let a soft moan into his mouth. He pulled up your dress, and moved his hands around your torso, gently cupping your breasts. He moved his hands around our back and unclasped your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you, he tossed it in the back seat.

You gasped as he tightened his grip around you and you gasped again when you felt his tongue drag across your breasts. He took your nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, making you want to scream out. A hand covered your mouth before you could make any noise, “We don’t want to pull anyone out here, now, do we?” he asked, looking up through his long, dark eyelashes.

You whimpered at his touch of your mouth and lack of touch in other places. He smiled and moved his other hand down between your legs where you were straddled on his lap. He moved your underwear over and pressed his hand against your clit.

He rubbed slowly, teasing you, “Please, please,” you begged him, he rubbed faster, “Please what? Say it for me, baby,”

God, if you were in any other situation, you’d probably punch him.

“Please, Jake, I need you,”

He moved his hand and used his middle and ring fingers to circle your entrance, tapping against it gently. At this point you were trying not to shed any tears, you needed him, now.

You took a sharp breath in as he slid his fingers into you, he moved his second hand from your mouth to hold down your waist. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them as he did so, and hitting all the right places. He leaned over and sucked on a spot on your neck.

You couldn’t hold it on any longer and let out a gargled moan from the back of your throat, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,”

You set your hands on his shoulder and nodded quickly, not being able to speak. He pumped his fingers faster and you hung your head down lower and began to breathe more heavily.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you let out a whine, he put both his hands on your bare waist, “Can I-”

“Yes, please,” you said breathlessly as you started to unbutton his shirt. He undid the zipper on his pants as you worked on his shirt, and pulled down his underwear, his hardening erection, springing up onto his stomach. You wrapped your hands around his cock and pumped, wiping the pre-cum off his tip and spreading it over him as a lubricant.

He ripped your panties right off of you and threw them in the back seat, “Jake-”

“I’ll get you new ones,”

He lifted you onto him and you both let out a groan as he penetrated you. He bucked his hips into you, thrusting quickly. You were both in such bliss with each other that you could barely kiss each other with any sort of coordination. The kisses were sloppy, but soft and warm, you could’ve died right there.

He stopped thrusting, and you hung your head close to his shoulders, your arms around his neck. He held your waist and began to move you up and down his length. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Look at you, thinking there were no consequences to your actions. You know, baby, you wear the hat-”

“Ride the cowboy,” as you said it he bucked into you and you let out another gargled moan - almost scream-like. He grabbed his hat off your head, which you somehow managed to keep on the whole time, and threw it in the backseat with the rest of your belongings.

“Fuck,” you heard a voice and realized it wasn’t yours, it was Jake’s, “Fuck,” he let out a string of vulgarities as you bounced on him. His sweat started pearling on his forehead, and boy he’s never looked so good. You connected your lips to the sensitive spot behind his ear and he moaned out in pleasure. It was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

“Darlin’ I’m gonna...”

You hummed against his skin in agreement, you moved your head and bit down on his shoulder as you let yourself go, just moments after, you felt him shudder and let out a pornographic, obscene noise. He pulled out of you and zipped his pants back up. You stayed on his lap and the two of you sat there, breathless, you against his bare chest, your dress bunched up at your waist, sweating, on a high, and more attracted to each other than ever.

You moved off his lap and reached into the back to grab your bra, you clasped it back on and Jake watched as you flipped down the car mirror, fussed with your hair, and wiped your messed-up makeup off. Putting the mirror back up, you jumped out of the truck and shut the door, leaving him alone. He watched you walk towards the entrance of the bar, he quickly gathered himself and grabbed the hat from the back seat. He got out of the truck and called out to you.

You turned to see him walking with the hat, he caught up with you and set the hat on your head. He walked passed you, lightly smacking your ass, “This was fun, let’s do it again, Darlin’,” he shot you a wink and made his way back into the Hard Deck.

He is going to be the end of you.

i’ve never written smut before so i hope that was good idk bro but yes i hoped you liked it

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin smut #hangman top gun #top gun maverick #top gun #natasha trace #robert bob floyd #phoenix #cowboy hat rule #cowboy #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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goddess-evelle · 2 years

Text

In this video XI

We coded it so that

We are forced to cum inside our girlfriend every time we die. Can we beat the game, or will the overstimulation become too much? We are about to find out.

Warnings: Breeding kink, degradation, unprotected sex (don’t be stewpid), Sabotage?

A/N: I’m so tired :P Enjoy reading.

“Come on boys; you don’t even have to ask at this point. You know I’m all in. We’ve done even worst videos; this is just the most normal one. I mean at least the fans get an insight of what happens every night in our house” The boys seemed content with your answer as they smiled and each bent down to give you a kiss. They came up to you with yet another proposition about a video fully expecting that they had to convince you to make you want to participate, but let’s be honest you’ve done this ten time already. You were tired of beating around the bush. Being completely honest at this point you enjoyed these videos more than they did. So, needless to say, this time you were already waiting for them in the bedroom as they finished working a few details out. You saw out of the corner of your eye the way the Dream and George did some work in Sapnap’ computer. The action seemingly suspicious, but you did not thought anything of it. Just the wait of them setting everything up had you already dripping in wait for them to hurry and get ready to finally take care of you.

The boys finally got into their position to start the game; Dream and George wasted to time running up a mountain to attempt to jump off. Sapnap yelling behind them to wait for his character, but the two other boys only laughed and kept running. Somehow Sapnap’s character could not run. He became quickly mad at the sudden realization that for some reason he could not run immediately thinking that his game was wrong, but something that George said struck him. “That’s what you get for what you did on the last video” George used his high-pitched voice making Dream laugh. Your eye widened realizing that the boy’s had sabotaged Sapnap’s game so that he could not run. You laughed they were going to be the death of you. The Dreamnotfound characters finally reached the top of the mountain jumping to their inevitable death. The red screen flashing their pcs both stood up with a celebrating yell while pushing Sapnap’s shoulder and making their way towards you. You laughed watching the interaction as Sapnap tried to get his character to die. Dream and George made their way towards you seemingly a little too thankful for your action of wearing no parties under George’s shirt. They smiled as they sandwiched you with their bodies. Dream taking place behind you grabbing a hold of your legs spreading them for George as the oldest man moved in between them starting to push his already hard cock into your weeping entrance. He let out a half moan at the welcoming squeeze that your insides gave him. Dream gave him a scowl inwardly wishing it was him that was inside of you. He had to be honest; if it was up to him, he would’ve let George and Sapnap suffer and be unable to win. He admitted that he needed George’s help to be able to code being unable to die well, almost. However, he was happy to share with George knowing exactly how easily the older man could lose his self-control with some simple praise. He was more than prepared to pull out a box of tricks to make George cum quickly.

George started a slow deep pace inside of you taking the opportunity to really feel your walls squeezing his cock. He swore under his breath that you were a devil sent straight to make his life a living hell. His hips starting to piston faster inside of you as he started to let himself go into the immense pleasure. You had to admit; you would give anything to have his whines and moans engraved into your soul. The way he looked at you while he fucked you had him going insane. His hair was sweaty and disheveled giving him an almost desperate look as his eyes were red and glossing over at the intense pleasure. His lips swollen and red from the biting as he tried to keep his moans and groans to himself. “You look so good right now George” George’s eyes left yours; his complete attention now at Dream’s words making him lose his rhythm. You could feel his cock pulsating inside of you as George came to a stop. Dream reached out to swipe a loving thumb on George’s cheek giving the older man all the attention. You watched as Dream moved to press a kiss to George’s lips. It wasn’t usual that your boyfriends indulged into kissing, but there were times when Dream took the opportunity to show his boyfriends that he loved them as much as he loves you. The kiss had a major impact on the older man as he spilled into you without a warning. You let out a moan at the sudden feeling of his hot cum feeling deeply inside of you. As Dream pushed George out of the way to replace him Sapnap’s character was finally getting to the top of the mountain quickly jumping off. However, his character only seemed to miraculously survive the fall. At this point Sapnap was a screaming mess of how he hated the other two boys, but the sound of Dream pounding your dripping hole was distracting all of you to care for what Sapnap was saying. You had never felt Dream moving so erratically. He seemed to have an unforgivable stamina as he fucked you like a possessed man. He did not even feel the burn that was increasing in his thigh as he sunk deeper and harder into you. Dream chased after his own pleasure as his hips started to give sloppy movements. “Fuck, you are just a fuck toy for us” His hand took a hold of your neck as he bent down; hips still moving in uncoordinated thrusts. “You don’t even deserve to cum today.” Tears filled your eyes at the harsh dirty talk, but you could notdeny the way it had your heat sucking him deeper into you.

The action did not go unnoticed by Dream as he smiled and slid his tongue over the few tears that had fallen down your cheek. “You know what I’ll do something better. How about I breed you like the little whore you are, and I don’t even let you cum. Huh? How does that sound you slut.” You were going absolutely crazy with the way he was power thrusting into you. Dream was giving broken moans into your ear as he loved being inside of you fucking you so closely. He was a moaning mess unlike you’ve heard him be before. Apparently, he really missed out in the last video because this was pussy drunk content with finally being able to get a wet grip from your pussy. Head rolled back as he spilled inside of you. He grunted voice deep and low next to your ear as he degraded you like the slut that you were. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum inside. You better fucking take it all.” He said with the last shocks of his orgasm. Sapnap’s computer was now turned off apparently, George disconnected his pc telling him that he could only watch for the night. Sapnap was understandably grumpy about it, but it did not really matter when he could finally see the show. Dream was finally pulling out of you; his cum dripping into the sheets, but that did not seem to face him as he let the heaviness of his cock fall against your clit making your thighs shut at the sudden dash of pleasure. “Open your fucking legs slut” He said as he used his strong arms to pry your legs opened. His cum leaked out of your hole messily, and suddenly he smiled as if a brilliant thought had just reached him. You saw him get out of your line of vision feeling too tired to follow him with your eyes. You hear a pained grunt as Dream came back with his hand tangled in George’s hair. He did not even say anything all he did was push George’s face into your cunt letting him know what he wanted him to do. He held George’s head against your cunt as the oldest man started lapping up the delectable mix of your Dream’s cum and yours together. Soon enough Dream let George alone with the task as Sapnap pushed his shoulder obviously mad at the resolution of the video. “Dude, what the fuck? That wasn’t even fair” “Well, Sapnap you deserved it after last time only you fucked her.” Dream retorted with a smirk on his face. “Oh, and get comfy cause George and I took a little something for…inspiration” He winked at Sapnap as he jerked his head towards the nightstand where a package of Viagra was missing two pills. “FUCK!” Sapnap said as he ran his hands through his face. This was going to be a long night indeed.

#dream team x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken smut #dream team smut #georgenotfound smut #dream smut #dream team #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap smut #sapnap x reader

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chickenparm · 1 year

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Fidget Device (Alhaitham/f!Reader) (3)

oh hey i finally did another part for this to wrap it up. @drawlypsy did some art for the previous part that you can see here!

this is the final part of this little fic.

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AO3 LINK Previous Part

Alhaitham/f!Reader 2,363 Words - NSFW (Cockwarming, mild DP in one hole, shower sex, P in V, mild dirty talk)

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Alhaitham has a special appreciation for noise suppression. The thoughts in his head aren't often loud, but they're numerous enough without the added distraction of unwanted clutter. But there's also a special appreciation for the way the shower masks the opening of the door, the rustle of his clothing, the grinding of his teeth in frustration.

Or, if you do notice him entering, you have the gall not to say anything. To let him have his way after rather soundly evening the playing field. Alhaitham isn't too interested in gaining the upper hand again, which is a good thing. And that's immediately counteracted by how he's inversely disinterested in actually speaking about whatever game the two of you have been participating in.

Only when he yanks the curtain back do you spin to look at him, wide-eyed for only a moment before realizing rather quickly what’s going on. There’s conditioner in your hair that you haven’t washed out, but it travels down your body with the rivulets of water. It makes your skin slick as he pushes you against the wall, shoulder blade to cold tile, and cages you in.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, careful and measured. “Was this the outcome you were expecting?”

“I didn’t expect anything at all, honestly.”

“Poor judgement, then.” The warmth of the water has nothing on the heat of your skin as he cages you in, pressing against you and tilting his head to speak in your ear. The smell of your conditioner floods his nose, a concentrated version of what he’s only occasionally caught wind of when you walk by. “Kaveh always says I have a temper. Was it amusing to try and test it?”

There’s a shove against his chest from you pushing against the wall to gain some wiggle room. Alhaitham doesn’t budge; you wanted his attention. Now that you’re the sole recipient of it, you’re backing down? That’s not going to happen. It’s apparent that he hadn’t resolved the situation to his normal standards, and now it’s become far more frustrating than he initially expected.

Maybe something casual, just to build on the closeness that was already present with you. The moment he’d touched you last night, it was obvious that it could never be just casual, but he was adamant on trying. Relationships are a load of extra work he’s not sure he’s willing to handle, but a day of daydreaming when he was meant to be doing his job shed some light on his willingness to try.

And then you had to go and pull that stunt by sucking him off beneath the table, giving far more than you got, and then leaving him there as if it were nothing. It never could have been something of no consequence - something he realized after putting you to bed, after returning to his room to shamefully get himself off at the sounds you’d made, after spending his work hours contemplating the merits of coming home and just making things official.

A shift of his body, just enough to grind himself against your ass, and you stop your struggles immediately. At the very least, it seems as if you understand what it is that’s inevitable. Whether it happens in this shower, or some other day when the tension decides to snap, it doesn’t matter. But Alhaitham would rather it be right here, where he can claim immediate satisfaction before hauling you off to his bed.

But he’s not as much of an asshole as everyone seems to think he is. Inevitable or not, he won’t force it, and against your ear Alhaitham murmurs, “I’ll do exactly what you tell me to do. As long as you tell me.”

Your fingernails catch on the grout between the tiles as you tense, thoughts visibly whirring through your mind before you come to some sort of conclusion that satisfies you. The linchpin is you, after all, and Alhaitham isn’t so emotionally invested that your rejection of further intimacy will leave him devastated.

It would not be ideal, but the chances of him surviving it are high. Not completely, but… enough to risk it.

“Was I not obvious before?” Your voice does not carry the weight that you seem to think it does. The water muffling the echo off the walls doesn’t help matters, but you press onward anyway. “Letting you touch me like that? Getting on my knees for you? You’re being awfully stupid for someone that’s usually so observant.”

Alhaitham takes only a single heartbeat’s worth of time to marvel at how swiftly his patience has reached its end.

A hiss from between your teeth ricochets off the tile in front of you as he drops all pretense of being slow and caring about this. The heat of your cunt welcomes him as he drags his cock through it, the obvious slickness of your arousal not entirely lost on him. Not so long ago, he’d felt it on his fingers as he absently toyed with you, seeing just how much he could get away with while using your body for his own needs.

Quite a bit, it seems. You press back against him, your thighs clenching together tightly as he rocks between them. Each press forward is accompanied by a gasp of your own, his tip nudging against your clit that’s undeniably swollen and demanding more for him. Reaching around you, his fingertips circle around the bundle of nerves, slickened by the water and his own pre-cum.

His other hand hovers for a moment, debating pulling you from the wall to toy with you further, but the squish of your breasts beneath your combined weight is far too pleasing a sight considering the tiles must be cold. Let you suffer a small discomfort, if only in return for how callously you left him dazed at the dinner table.

Instead, he uses it to grasp the base of his cock and line himself up against your entrance, teasing the rim as you visibly swallow in anticipation, your eyes looking at him over your shoulder in some amalgamation of pleading and desperation.

The thought crosses his mind that he could just… leave you here. Wander back to his room and fuck his hand to leave you wanting and unsatisfied. The outrage would be so very sweet to witness, but then he thinks back to you laying in his lap, shaking and pulled apart by the mindless thrusting of his fingers. The expression on your face was burned behind his eyelids, flashing across his vision even now with every blink.

It’s not out of line to want a refresher, he thinks.

The spray of the water isn’t nearly as hot as you are inside as he pushes in, needing just a little pressure to get past your tense anticipation. The moment he stretches you, your eyelids fall as your cheek falls against the wall. Before giving you anything more, he watches the expression on your face, the bob of your throat as you swallow, the little gatherings of water on your eyelashes before they grow too heavy and fall on your cheekbones.

But you look a little too complacent, and after everything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours, neither of you particularly deserve any sort of calm. Alhaitham is well aware he’s in the same boat, and the circling of his thumb on your clit is a punishment for both of you. You suffer through the exquisite feeling of him pushing forward while relentlessly pleasuring you. Alhaitham is subject to your walls clenching around him with near bruising force, requiring far more effort than he expected to bottom out inside you.

And then you moan his name, tortured and whining as he falls still again. Alhaitham thinks he could get off rather easily just like this - buried inside you, his fingers thrumming across your clit, the rhythmic fluttering of your walls coaxing around him to just do something.

Alhaitham is just petty enough to try.

Leaning in against your ear again, spreading his fingers down to feel the tightness of your opening around where he’s fucked you open, Alhaitham remarks, “I’m not going to fuck you properly. Not yet, at least. We’re both going to make do with just this.”

“Alhaitham-!”

Your whine is cut off by his slick fingers dragging along the taut skin of your hole, gathering your wetness before pressing his middle finger alongside his cock, threatening to add more to your already-full pussy. Alhaitham watches your expression with rapt attention, surprise at his actions morphing into unfiltered pleasure at his actions. Quietly, just above the sound of falling water, he asks, “Can you do that for me? Then we’ll figure the rest of this out afterward. Show me how good I’m making you feel with so little effort, then I’ll show you what I can do when I’m trying.”

Alhaitham isn’t sure if the wetness on your face is just water from the shower, or tears. But you nod mutely, face lax with your arousal as he pushes his middle finger inside you alongside his cock. The little sounds you make aren’t entirely lost to the cacophony the shower head is making, but Alhaitham is satisfied enough just to watch your face, your body language.

Even if he were completely blind, he’d know you were drowning in it all just by how you’re starting to grind down against his thumb. Inside, your cunt grips him as if begging for more than what he has to give. More fingers, if the angle allowed. More friction, if he weren’t vindictive enough to make you cum just from being stuffed full of him.

It’s not as if he’s faring much better - if anything, he’s arguably pathetic next to you. While you’re being stimulated, your cunt toyed with and his attention solely on any way he can get you off without actively fucking you, Alhaitham offers no such liberties to himself. His breathing grows shallow, his muscles tensing, his jaw clenched tight with impending release at solely the feel of you threatening to come undone around him.

Grateful that you’re far too consumed to notice the tremor of his voice, Alhaitham urges you, “Nearly there, don’t hold out on me now. Don’t forget, I’ve made you cum from far less.”

Maybe it’s his words, or the memory of how he’d nonchalantly played with you only a few steps out of the bathroom, on the couch he hadn’t been able to keep from staring at the few times he walked by it today. No matter the cause, you arch away from him as you cum, as if subconsciously trying to get away from the source of pleasure that takes only a few seconds before it becomes too much.

Yet Alhaitham hasn’t reached his own end, and he leans his weight against you in a bid to keep you from getting away from him in any capacity. There’s no way he’s pulling out of you until he’s gotten what he wants. As much as he’s enjoying how you’re squirming and pleading to give you a break, this all boils down to how he can put a pin in this whole affair by having the upper hand again.

“Just a little longer, I’m-... I’m about to…”

The air feels stifling as he sucks it in, pressing his forehead against the back of your shoulder as he snaps. Despite his resolution to not do anything more than simply feel you around him, his self-control slips just enough for him to thrust himself shallowly through his orgasm, dragging himself along both your walls and the finger still curled inside you alongside himself.

Alhaitham’s forehead is slick from the conditioner that’s mixed with the water on your skin, from the sweat built up from so little effort. Everything is hot and humid for a moment, slowly becoming more bearable as the hot water runs low and the steam coming off dissipates in the tepid temperature.

The only thing holding you upright is him, he’s realized, and while his own limbs feel weak he at least has the presence of mind to understand you’re inadvertently using him as support. First removing his hand, then his cock, Alhaitham gathers you against his chest and finishes what you started to hurry them along and out of the cooling water. Thankfully, you don’t protest against the clinical way he rinses out the hair product, then your thighs from the evidence of what you’d done together.

By the time he’s toweling the two of you down, you finally find the faculties to speak. It’s not quite what he expects, and he pauses in surprise as you say, “We’re pretty dumb.”

“Speak for yourself.” Alhaitham answers, beginning to run the towel down your shoulders for the last bit of water before letting you finish the job while he pulls on enough clothing to be decent. “I was going to talk to you about what happened after I got home, but then you had to pull that little stunt.”

Alhaitham can hear you mutter under your breath, a quiet declaration of, “Rude.”

But you don’t argue it. Rightfully so; since he really had intended to bring things up in a way that might have been more tactful than he would do so for others. If only because he does care about the outcome of all this, and being insensitive about it would only bring about the result he doesn’t want.

And this wasn’t the expected conclusion at all, whether he was careful about how he approached it or not. Maybe it’s best this way; less awkward talking about feelings and the like. Surely you got the point, so long as you caught his promise to give you more.

The rest can be worked out later. For now, he’s reached the limit of exertion he’s feeling up for on all fronts, both emotional and physical. It can be sorted tomorrow; or immediately in the living room that you follow him into, your legs flung over his lap as you mirror the position from the night before with a book in your hand and a knowing smile curling at your lips.

#mind the a/n for the content tags #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham/reader #f!reader #female reader #afab reader #afab!reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin #genshin impact #nsft

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tarisilmarwen · 9 months

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Rebels Rewatch: "The Holocrons of Fate"

In which things get Force Weird and Maul is the actual worst.

Full disclaimer in the name of honesty, I still think Maul's "resurrection" in TCW was stupid. It will never not be stupid.

That being said, I'm glad they decided, "Well, let's actually do something interesting with him." once they had him.

Making him into a Sisyphean/Tantalus-figure--always reaching, never grasping--adds a layer of depth and tragedy to him. No matter how hard he tries, Maul will never gain what he seeks. When it's within his grasp, he will inevitably self-sabotage or have it slip away from him.

We meet him at a time in his life when he's just lost everything, again. He finds new purpose and motivation in the form of Ezra Bridger figuratively falling into his lap--here's someone to carry on his legacy, that he can mold and teach--but in his eagerness to have him, he irreparably damages any chance the boy would have had to learn from him willingly.

But like Sisyphus pushing at that rock, like Tantalus reaching for the grapes above him, he cannot stop trying.

Probably fitting that his question to the holocrons is an answer to the inevitable existential dread of his own existence.

But I'm getting waaaaaay ahead of myself, he hasn't even shown his ugly face yet.

Instead we drop in on Kanan and Ezra, on a CR90, presumably coming back from a mission they headed up. Ezra's asking after the holocron again, still not quite over his obsessive addiction to it, still hyper-focusing on it as the only good thing that could have possibly come out of the mess at Malachor.

"But if not to get the Sith holocron, why did Master Yoda send us to Malachor?" That's a good question. *stares at writers*

Kanan offers up the idea that is was for "a chance to destroy the Sith." Sure we'll go with that.

Their conversation is interrupted by them coming to their destination, a rendezvous point with another Rebel ship.

Thaaaaaaaaaat Maul has almost completely murderized. This scene is one of the ones that does a really good job subtly showing off Kanan's blindness. Ezra offers commentary for Kanan's benefit throughout, Kanan has a hand out to feel, he mentions the carbon scoring smell and inclines his ear towards the sounds coming from behind a door.

The only survivor can only gasp out about a "red blade... after you." ("you" being very specifically Ezra) and that the Ghost was in danger.

Right so I'd just like to emphasize, for the fandom's sake, Maul murdered an entire Rebel ship looking for Ezra.

Kanan and Ezra assume, naturally, that "red blade" means there's a new Inquisitor after them and rush to contact the Ghost. Whereupon they discover that it's Maul who's threatening them now.

And ooooooh Ezra's piiiiiiiiissed.

"No... I betrayed your friends, but I would have remained loyal to you." *rubs eyes* That's... There's not a significant emotional distinction there for Ezra, you know that right, Maul? Of course you don't.

Back when fandom was Absolutely Certain that Maul was going to successfully abduct Ezra in "Twilight of the Apprentice" there were theories flying around that Sabine would have to ply her Mandalorian connections in order to get information about where he might be hiding, since we knew by then her family had ties to Death Watch. Things didn't happen that way, obviously, but it was still nice to get a nod towards that connection.

Maul proceeds to be the world's worst houseguest, forcing Hera to take him on a "tour" of the ship while he comments snarkily about each room.

Like you have room to talk mister Lived In Literal Garbage For Years.

Anyway this tour seems to be mostly a ruse to look for Kanan's holocron, and Maul very creepily and uncomfortably pulls the information out of Hera's head. (Possibly along with Kanan's real name??? It was never actually elaborated on how Maul knows "Caleb Dume", but it would make the most sense he skimmed it from Hera, to throw her defenses off guard for his stronger mind probe.)

You leave mom alone you cockroach.

I know this is serious but boy I would have LOVED to hear the conversation Kanan and Ezra must have had with Sato when they got back.

"Hey we need to borrow a speeder to go out into the desert past the sensor beacon fence where all the spiders are to visit a giant weird Force Moose and retrieve a Sith Soul Jar because a creepy spike-horned Dark Side nutcase kidnapped everyone else on our crew."

I'm just picturing Sato throwing up his hands all, "Just take whatever you need."

Also amusing: the idea of Ezra trying to describe the Bendu to Kanan later.

I absolutely dig this idea of holocrons creating a Force Convergence powerful enough to grant visions. I'm always in favor of Jedi artifacts being just a little bit weird with the Force. I mean, kyber crystals sing and hum to Jedi, lightsabers are a living extension of the Force moving through them, their temples carry thousands of years of emotions and feelings sticking to the walls, why shouldn't their holocrons be able to join with Sith holocrons to make an oracle?

The Bendu says he's neutral but he's also clearly set up this little test in order to help heal the rift between Kanan and Ezra (and he gives a fond little smile when he can sense their reconciliation).

"Why take his weapon?" "He's got to learn to solve problems without it." *WEEPS IN FINALE FEELINGS REMEMBERING THAT EZRA LEFT HIS LIGHTSABER BEHIND AND RELIED ONLY ON HIS UNIQUE FORCE ABILITY TO CONNECT IN ORDER TO SAVE EVERYONE*

Lol @ Maul trying to blunt force the Jedi holocron open. My dude. My guy. You were the one to point out that Sith holocrons can only be opened by a Sith or one who thinks like them. Follows that Jedi holocrons might operate on the same principle? Maybe?

Not sure what the point is of getting to the engine room quietly given the racket y'all made literally a second ago.

This is actually a new part of the ship we haven't seen before now. It's accessed both by a grate in the floor under the main central ladder and the door at the very back of the cargo hold.

And this is a really clever idea with magnetizing the hold, remembering that Maul's legs are metal. They almost pull off their own rescue here.

Bastard.

Sans his lightsaber, Ezra reaches for his blaster holster instead. Except I think that's empty too, I looked but I didn't see it equipped.

Kanan senses his panic and distress from outside and follows in. This scene reminds me a little bit of when Vision!Kanan showed up in "Path of the Jedi". Not sure why, just kind of does.

Ezra instinctively moves to shield Kanan from the krykna, aww.

Ugh this return to that timid, self-protective pose. :( We haven't seen Ezra shield himself like that in ages and it makes him look so much smaller.

Kanan tells Ezra everything Ezra's been desperate to hear for six months:

It wasn't your fault.

I never blamed you.

Forgive yourself.

<333333333

Haven't talked about the music much but this is a nice rendition of Ezra's theme here for this heartwarming moment.

Ah noooooope I like the krykna EVEN LESS now, wtf is this it's creepy.

Ezra nervous little glances as the krykna uncurl. <3

Ezra passing Kanan's mask into his hand. <3

Bendu's "Once a secret is known, it cannot be unknown." was a lot more ominous in the trailers, ngl.

Kanan showing a remarkable amount of trust in Ezra, leaving the decision on whether to open up the Sith holocron or not up to him. Ezra looks trepidaciously at it a moment and then decides not to, passing it back to Kanan.

(And then he never touched the Dark Side again lol.)

I can't even be mad that Ezra got the first blind joke in. At least he beat Maul to the punch.

Hhggngnghhh I hate him so much this rat bastard trash man. He immediately takes advantage of Kanan's blindness to lead him to an airlock and tries to space him.

EZRA WASN'T EVEN OUT OF SIGHT LONGER THAN A MINUTE OR TWO, MAUL, CAN YOU NOT?!

You actually can survive the void of space very briefly. You have about 15 seconds before you pass out, possibly more if you exhale first.

Uggggggggghhhh this scene makes my skin crawl, Maul is literally fresh off his second attempt to murder Kanan and orders the droids to kill the rest and Ezra is standing there completely unaware of the danger he's in or what Maul's done.

Maul bald-face lies to him and tells him his friends are fine. Just imagining the horror of what would have happened if Kanan hadn't made it back inside, how Ezra would have emerged from the holocron vision only to learn the awful truth that Maul had killed everyone he loved, that he was alone, alone with a deranged murderer who had decided he was his apprentice...

*shudder*

As they prepare to join the holocrons, it's interesting to note that Ezra's wish is a bit Dark Side tinted--he wants the answer on how to destroy the Sith--while Maul's is Light--the vaguely described "hope". Hope for what it's not clear at first. Hope for meaning? Hope for purpose? Hope for another chance to fix what he considers the point at which things went wrong? Commentary from behind the scenes has said that Maul's motivation for revenge against Obi-Wan is primarily rooted in his fixation on his failure at Naboo. "If I can just kill this guy, the person who was there when everything went wrong, it will make it all better."

I think, given that Maul had become self-consciously legacy-minded, thinking about the future he planned to create with Ezra at his side, he turned his mind backwards to unfinished business from the past, messes he still had to clean up, in order to move forward.

And that's why he manipulates the holocron vision to show him Obi-Wan's fate.

This sequence is really pretty.

The music cue that accompanies this moment is not overly bombastic, but rather sly, mysterious, and eerie, high vocals mingling with strings to create an odd balance.

The resignation on Sabine, Hera, and Zeb's faces when the droids point their weapons. :(

Hera's elation when she hears Kanan there. :D The very worried Spacefamily books it to Ezra of course.

Maul doesn't see anything from the vision at first, "Only oblivion!" he says, because the path he's on can only lead him there and urges Ezra to "Go deeper!" It just occurred to me that he's basically doing what his old master Palpatine would try to do in Season Four--piggybacking off Ezra's connection and using him as a conduit to achieve what he wants. He pushes Ezra to look harder because he can't see anything himself.

The brighter burst of blinding light could have just been an effect of Maul and Ezra sinking deeper into the vision but also I like to think Maul manipulated the convergence to try to keep the others away because it swells up right when we hear Hera calling for Ezra.

This bit is so cool, the Force is so loud and present in the room that Kanan's blindness doesn't matter, he can physically see through it even with his ruined eyes. Hera's voice distorts and fades as if it's coming across a large distance even though Kanan only goes a couple steps away. The orchestra rouses with full strings and chorus. The negative film effect makes Kanan, Ezra, and Maul look like celestial figures of pure energy.

THE WAY THIS IS BOTH (LITERALLY) ABOUT THE TWIN SUNS OF TATOOINE AND (FIGURATIVELY) ABOUT LUKE AND LEIA, THE CHILDREN OF THE CHOSEN ONE AND THE TWO MOST KEY PLAYERS IN THE ULTIMATE DESTRUCTION OF THE SITH.

THE WAY ALL THREE OF THEM--LUKE, LEIA, AND EZRA--ARE NARRATIVE "CHOSEN ONES" WITHOUT BEING THE IN-TEXT CHOSEN ONE, HOW THE FORCE STILL PUTS THEM IN KEY PLACES IN ORDER TO BRING ABOUT THE FULFILLMENT OF THE PROPHECY.

THE PATH TO LIRA SAN WILL BE DECIDED BY THE FATE OF THE THREE.

Ezra ultimately trusts Kanan and looks away just before Maul can discern where, exactly, Obi-Wan is. The severed connection explodes outwards, throwing them all across the room, and the holocrons are shattered.

Maul's cackling and crazed body language as he stumbles out to escape make it seem like the knowledge that Obi-Wan's alive has actually driven him insane. It's quite disconcerting.

The Spacefamily surrounding Ezra worriedly. <3 You have to wonder if Kanan is fearing a repeat of Ezra's collapse back in "Gathering Forces", if perhaps for a moment he's a bit too still here.

Oh look the two Most Important People in Ezra's life and narrative journey!

The way Kanan keeps his hand on Ezra's shoulder until the very end. <333333

With a few minor nitpicks (mostly that a few of the mysteries aren't well explained or answered, see Maul's knowledge of Kanan's real name) this is a pretty solid episode, a worthy follow-up to the premiere. We continue to settle Ezra's Dark Side temptations, burying them mostly for good in this episode, though the lingering effects it had on him emotionally will continue well into his characterization, motives, and arc down the line.

Maul is an awful bastard in this and such a good villain. :) He's so much more confident and assured of himself, clear-headed and calculating. 0 for 2 on successfully kidnapping Ezra but his menace will still pervade and influence a lot of Ezra's decisions this season.

I'll talk more about the overall effects and purpose of the holocron arc when we come to its end in "Twin Suns" but for now I'll just enjoy this episode once again, it's great.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #rebels rewatch #liveblog #spoilers #maul is once again the actual worst

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milk-tea-and-memories · 2 years

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pairing: best friend!megumi x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, nothing else i think but please lmk if you find something

megumi doesn’t drink, of course, he’s too smart for that. because when megumi drinks, images of you that usually he keeps at bay flood his mind. you, skipping down the little dirt road in the park, occasionally bending down to pick the tiny strawberries that line the overgrown path. it’s you that megumi sees, bravely making conversation with complete strangers and petting their dogs and shaking their hands and megumi just doesn’t know how you do it. megumi enjoys his apathic reputation, he doesn’t care, why should he? but lately you’ve been making him overthink. when you ruffle his hair his usual scowl is usually accompanied by a blush that megumi quickly hides by turning away and pretending to fix up his hair. this mornings worries consist of how to ask you to go to that new restaurant that just opened up in town, without it sounding too much like a date. when he finally pressed send, he cringes at how long it took him to write such a simple message. your reply comes quickly, made known by a soft ping that megumi knows means it’s you because everyone else is set on vibrate only.

sorry gums not tonight, i’ve got plans :p, let’s plan for tomorrow

megumi tries to seem unaffected, though truthfully he hasn’t seen you for a week now since you’ve been studying for your med exam, and he misses you

k. he sends, then winces at how low that sounds, he knows gojo wouldn’t approve. deciding to go on a walk, megumi puts on his jacket and wraps a scarf that you’d bought him at one of the little boutiques in town around his neck. walking around the park that he usually accompanies you to, megumis heart drops into his stomach as his brain processes the scene before his eyes.

two figures are walking in the park, the setting sun casting warm light against their red cheeks. one of the two, tall, taller than he is megumi notes, with dark hair that seems to style itself effortlessly, is saying something animatedly to the other, who slaps him on the head. he immediately recognizes the latter, because it’s you. so these are what your plans were, or more specifically, these are who your plans were. megumis brain immediately begins to compare himself with your new companion, the way his cheekbones sit on his angular face, the way his hands gesture, and most sickeningly, the way he makes you laugh. has he ever made you laugh like that? has he ever laughed like that himself? megumi looks away and heads home, his hands shoved so deep in his pockets he hopes he isn’t pulling his pants down, turning from the scene that he’s sure will be running through his head for the rest of the night. he brushes away an invitation from yuuji for a pizza night, opting to sit in his dark room, periodically glancing at his phone and trying to force the images of you and someone else out of his mind. megumis phone dings again softly, and he is greeted with a picture of you and your companion at a restaurant, squinting at the banner behind you megumi realizes with a sigh that you’ve brought your date, me go mi supposes, to the new restaurant, the one that he asked you to. which brings him to now, sitting in front of the bar, drinking something that the bartender promised was strong. and it is, megumi doesn’t know how long he’s been there, minutes? hours? all he knows is he wants to see you, so his fingers sloppily swipe through his phone until he reaches your contact, pressing it with no second thoughts.

“gumi?” your voice spills out of the speaker and megumi smiles, letting out a little giggle, “gumi are you drunk?”

“nOoOOoO…” megumi stubbornly says, before whispering, “yes, but don’t tell y/n”

“gumi i am y/n” you say exasperatedly, “i’m coming to get you, don’t move.”

megumi stays as still as possible, keeping his eyes open until he inevitably blinks. when your car pulls up, megumi sees you walk quickly up to the door, brushing away a middle aged man that comes up to you doing his best smolder, scanning the room until you see megumi sitting there. megumi wonders how you can be so beautiful and how your eyes are so pretty and how your hair sits perfectly on your head and how nice you look.

“megumi stand up let’s go,” you drag him up from the stool, “a picture will last longer” you add with a wink.

“but you told me not to move?” megumi giggles again, but he’s dragged out of the bar regardless and stuffed into your car.

the ride is silent sans the wind blowing through your open windows and the occasional hiccup from a snoring megumi. the silence is broken however, when you hear the sound of the mirror on the sun shield in your car being opened.

“megumi?” you ask, wondering what in the world could be prompting him to check himself out at this moment. “whatcha doin?”

“figurin’ somethin’ *hic* out” megumi mumbles in reply.

“what?”

“why ‘m not good enough for ya.” megumis voice takes on a pouty tone.

“what? megumi what do you mean?” you wonder because though you know about megumis insecurities he’s always known he’s been enough for you.

“why’d you hafta find that *hic* guy,” megumi continues, “the one you were at the park with *hic* and at the restaurant that i asked you to” this last part is spoken accusingly.

“gums im sorry but we were hungry and it was the closest restaurant, it was really good, we should go sometime too, but you can’t be upset over that?”

“of course i am,” megumi sounds exasperated, “i don’t want some random guy with you all the time, makin’ you laugh and stuff,” he grumbles.

you fight to hide the smirk covering your face, “oh yeah? and why’s that gums?”

“because i love you?!” megumi shoots, and then immediately slaps his hand over his mouth, the alcohol in his system making his eyes open wide like in the comics.

”what did you say?” you ask quietly

and megumis heart speeds up and he’s sure it’s broken the sound barrier

what did he just say

he just told you he loved you

he sits, deathly still, as your car continues down the road

what did he just do

”megumi” your voice cuts through the silence like a knife through the silky tofu you two prepare together for your lazy sunday morning miso soup

”i just didn’t want you to regret…anything” you continue, your voice softer, “i don’t want you to make a mistake.”

megumi thinks this over in his head

does that mean you like him back

what about the guy

what were you doing with him

”we can talk about this more when you’re sober gums” you sigh

megumi looks up to see that you’ve arrived at his house

you open the door with a spare key that megumi had given you and with that the rest of the night goes by in a blur

he briefly remembers you urging him to brush his teeth and you kissing his forehead goodnight

which brings megumi to now, with the morning sun fighting to push through his tightly closed blinds and his head filling with memories of last night

he bangs out of bed, he can’t lose you, he knows he will after what he pulled last night, but he can’t he can’t lose you

changing into his black pants and foregoing a top he starts for the doorknob but it twists open before he can reach it

your smiling but worried face stares back at him

“good morning gumi, i hope you don’t mind i slept here last-oof” you begin but megumis wrapped his arms around you

just as quickly he recoils

“i’m sorry about last night” he says monotonously, his eyes looking anywhere but you, settling on the carpeted floor

you sigh, unwilling to tackle such a heavy subject so early in the morning, but doing so anyways.

“did you mean it?”

megumi feels his chin being lifted by your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye

he stutters, rubbing his hands together nervously

”yes-i mean n-no well yes of course but i’m sure you don’t-i mean” he pushes your hand away and looks back down at the floor “forget it. i want you to be happy, i’m sorry i told you, i’m glad you found someone.”

he notices how you look away and with that he awaits your inevitable rejection, for you to agree with him that while he’s great he’s just not it, just not who you’re looking for, that being megumi is just not enough.

instead, he’s greeted with the feel of your incredibly soft lips, how are they so soft megumi wonders but he’s not surprised, it’s exactly how he imagined them. your hands go up to his hair and all his dreams are suddenly coming true

you pull back smiling and flick his forehead “i am happy gumi, here, with you.”

megumis heart rate slows and speeds up simultaneously

you like him back.

you’re not leaving.

you like him back

“oh and gumi? that guy you saw me with is my cousin makino.”

you smile at his blush and the smile that he can’t keep off his face

he glares at you, “coulda told me sooner,” he grumbles, “would have saved me from this hangover.”

you laugh and drag him back to the bed, snuggling into the blankets and megumi cautiously wraps his arms around your middle, searching your face for approval but your eyes are already closed, your nose nuzzling at his bare chest and your leg wrapped around his.

“don’t worry, i love you too, dummy”

#megumi hcs #fushiguro megumi #jjk headcanons #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fanfic #megumi x gender neutral reader #megumi angst #megumi drabble #megumi imagine #megumi x you #suddenly was inspired to write #because someone liked my post #i’m so controlled by this shit #but enjoy

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sunflowernyx · 2 years

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[Unfinished] 'Sleepwalker' Rebelcaptain soulmate AU

Genre: Canon divergent, romance, soulmate au, dream sharing, reincarnation romance

Rating: General audiences

Pairing: rebelcaptain, jyncassian, jyn/Cassian

Summary: They live double lives, fighting in their waking hours, and living as dreamy phantoms in sleep, watching over another without knowing who they are.

Notes: So episode 8 of Andor has made me realise a concept like this would require waaaaay more angst and reflection and the style of it isn't to my liking. But I still wrote 3k so I thought I'd share it!! (and I'll probably return to it when we're done with season 1 and I'm done with the other complete-AU-Au I'm writing instead!!

---

"The two-faced divinity: A sun goddess and a serpent from the Overworld sharing the same mouth."

- Luthen Rael

---

The first time he dreams of her, she is a silhouette of white, a ghost, a goddess.

She is nothing but sunlight, a burning fire so bright and so warm, all he feels is home.

And then she is torn from his grasp, torn into reality, into mortality, breaking apart, her glow fading from his world. The path dimming until it is lost in darkness.

Kassa wakes in his cot and cries so loudly that Kerri joins in, a three year old and an infant breaking the silence that is never silent in the Kenari mining town.

***

When Jyn is thee she stands on the precipice of an abyss she cannot explain and an explosion knocks her out of her cot.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t make a sound, and neither papa nor mama notice that she wakes. Instead she climbs carefully to her feet on stubby little legs and waddles over to the window full of lights, gold and orange and green and pink, from a city that never sleeps.

Though she knows only skyscrapers and clouds and the galaxy above her, papa calling her a star in their sky, she marvels at none of it.

None but the turquoise serpent that slithers through the glass from the sky outside. It lifts its head and regards her with deep black eyes, eyes that soften in quiet recognition of who she is and who she isn’t yet.

She reaches up and touches its face gently, the skin of her fingers growing wet from the serpent’s tears, feels its pain and its grief and its longing, aching in her chest. And then she feels its tears running down her cheeks as well.

When it asks her silently, she allows it to curl around her, and she settles into its warmth, into the deep sensation of home and safety, and falls back asleep, child and serpent coiled together in peace.

Later, when she remembers the night, Jyn still cannot tell if she had dreamt it or if it was real. All she knows is that her parents had found her the next morning with a kyber crystal in hand.

***

For most of his life Cassian Andor despises the Force.

He despises it because it seems to go out of its way to taunt him. Little flashes of future events taunt him in his dreams, in waking moments, events he cannot understand or stop. They feel like warnings or a reminder of the inevitability of tragedy in a galaxy consumed by war and oppression, and always, always he finds he only understands them in the thick of it.

When Maarva catches a cold and nearly dies.

When Bix’ parents are interned.

When Clem is hanged.

He takes matters into his own hands at thirteen, and though he understands this warning, the sense of where he is going, he still throws the molotov cocktail at the storm troopers.

Cassian is full of rage and grief, and he hates the Force for seeing all of it and doing nothing to stop it.

And more than anything else, he hates the dreams of a different time, of a different place, of himself sitting in a room on a bed with a hologram in his hands of a woman, beaming with tragedy in her eyes as she lies.

***

Rebellions are built on hope!

***

The only thing he can forgive the Force for is the dreams he dreams of a girl, barely his own age.

(Cassian never thinks of added strength to his blows, how easily he can convince people to cut him some slack, or the ability to catch Maarva’s cane when it should be out of reach as products of his connection to the Force).

Always she is in unfamiliar territory. Be it an eternal city, bright among the clouds, or a landscape where the land is black as night and the sky is white as snow.

She runs and she plays, and she listens to her parents, and Cassian is almost jealous of her in those early years, for having parents, for having peace. For knowing to whom she belongs.

But then things change, and he sits with her in the dark of a cave. He doesn’t know why she’s there, shaking a little lamp into life every few hours and singing to herself in the dark. All he knows is that he’d gone to bed, exhausted from an argument with Maarva that had gone anything but well because of his lacking grasp of Basic, and the next thing, he’d opened his eyes to the girl and the lamp and the cave.

She’s clutching a crystal, hanging from her neck.

He isn’t sure how he knows, but Cassian knows with every fibre of his being, every particle of his soul, that this girl is real, that somewhere in the galaxy she is sitting alone and abdoned, afraid of the dark, and singing to herself.

Every time she clutches the necklace, he feels a spec of stardust touch himself, and every time she cries his heart breaks apart a little more for her.

Eventually, it becomes too painful to sit there beside her without doing anything, and though he knows he will never be able to touch her like this, he still reaches out and carefully places his hand around her shoulder. Careful, so as not to break the illusion of touch.

***

Jyn learns to steal, not from Saw, but from the boy in her dreams.

He picks a pocket here, steals a gold chrono from a tourist there, pretends to be ill and scams himself into a hot meal on a day it’s too cold to walk back across his frozen over town of scrap and snow.

She doesn’t smile as easily as he does, and he doesn’t fight as well as she does, and so she decides to leave the scamming to him, and focus on the pickpocketing.

It isn’t the only thing she learns from him. She learns how to knit socks, how to take apart a droid faster than anyone. By the time saw finally introduces her to a blaster, she’d already known through the boy in her dreams how to aim with sniper precision and where to hit her target to kill them in an instant.

Her adoptive father raises an eyebrow when she shows off and smirks.

“Good,” is all he says, and ruffles her hair.

By the time she learns what it feels like to be in an imperial prison, she is eight years old. She learns that a group of boys can be the cruellest to each other, that cold on Lah’mu isn’t true cold, and that imps are happy to dish out violence or manipulate others to do it for them. She learns how to hold herself with dignity, as if she had a pillar of steel at your core, how to hide her reactions, her fears, her rage.

And she learns it all by watching the boy in her dreams go through the horrors of imprisonment — and then war.

***

By the time Cassian makes it off Mimban, he has forgotten where the sources of his knowledge comes from. Did he learn to assemble a sniper rifle on the fly from a general in white? Or in a dream?

Did he learn to stab up and under the helmet to sever the nerves of a ‘trooper so they won’t have time to make a sound from experience or because he’d seen blood on a smaller, more elegant pair of hands first?

Who taught him to run?

It certainly wasn’t the girl in his dreams.

He sits on barrel of explosives, watching her dance through an army of troopers, her brow knitted, her green eyes ice cold. Like a goddess of war, takes down her enemies as if they are nothing but insects below her feet, barely even catching a breath anymore, her skin dry of sweat.

When the last ‘trooper falls, she pauses and heaves, depositing her truncheons to her belt, and looks around with bored disdain on her face.

Finally, she looks in Cassian’s direction, and for a moment her eyes catch on his. Cassian has only ever seen them from the side, catching and changing in hue to whatever colour the light in her environment might influence her, cooling at night, warming with sunrise. But now her eyes lock on Cession and they are beyond vivid, startlingly green.

And full of stars.

Then her comm scratches and he wakes up in a cold sweat.

***

Because she travels with Saw, Jyn hears all the stories. She sits in a shed somewhere, peeling potatoes with an old village crone, listening to the way she relates the myths of the Force, the breath of life through the galaxy. She hears stories of heroes and villains, Jedi and Sith, from the soldiers she fights with. She loiters in a mall under a local government administration, keeping an eye on imps while Maya sets up the explosives, and hears girls talk about soulmates, force bonds.

And then shush each other, giggling.

Giggling, because the Force religions are evil under the eye of the empire.

Giggling, because any sign of Force sensitivity will land you twenty years in prison.

Giggling, because of a boy that walks past, his blond hair slicked back with too much gel.

Oh, Jyn hears them all. She hears of shared bruises and shared words. She hears of names being whispered against your skin, and flowers blossoming where no one chan see them.

The favourite in Saw’s cadre is the shared wounds, and it becomes so, not just because of the pride freedom fighters take in their wounds, but because Saldon lost his foot suddenly and without warning, his limb turning to stardust in the gloom of a twilit moon.

Jyn is there to hear the screams, to watch Saw end the poor man’s life.

Jyn is there to cower under her blankets afterwards at the horrible mercy in her adoptive father’s hand.

Jyn is there to clutch the kyber crystal to her chest and close her eyes.

She’s still there, on the edge of sleep, when a warm hand brushes over her head.

***

She refuses to think of the person in her dreams as her soulmate.

She refuses to get attached.

But then she flickers into consciousness in a waking dream, for the first time in a week, to warm sunlight and a nice hotel room. The shower is on, but the person she has dreamt of her whole life is fully dressed in a white shirt, brown pants and terrible shoes for running. His face is clean, his hair rumbled, and his face marked with exhaustion as he speaks to a woman in the other room.

Jyn floats curiously to the edge of the shower wall and finds a gorgeous, dark-skinned woman in his bed, her hair falling off her head like an explosion of curls.

She rolls her eyes, too used to the man in her dreams having night time partners to make anything of it, floating back, instead, to his presence as he continues the conversation.

“I was planning on going the other way,” he counters when his partner asks him again to go down the beach, and Jyn sees it, the flicker of gold glittering around him. Stars dancing, twirling in a force field, almost indistinguishable from the drops of air in the room.

The woman in the other room pushes again, and Jyn sees the flicker of fear on his face.

“No,” she says, floating closer.

“Fine,” he allows, closing his eyes.

“No, listen to yourself,” she implores him.

Her hand comes up to rest against his chest, over his heart, where she has never touched him before, where she knows she can’t.

And she sees it, see-through white skin against his tonnned muscles. Fear flickers through her and she hesitates.

Jyn closes her hand around thin air and resigned herself to follow him down the beach instead.

She watches him pull on a yellow vest and head out without a second glance at the woman, watches the sea breeze rustle in his hair. She watches as he starts sensing something to be wrong, starts noticing the thieves running for their lives, while every other person around him accepts the events as natural, accepts the order of things.

And she knows that it is his vigilance and their complacency that marks him as trouble in the eyes of the imps patrolling the bay.

He’s so good at talking his way out of trouble, his silver tongue getting him anything he wants, influencing the people around him with a little nudge from the Force in his words. But the imp isn unaffected, and Jyn watches with horror as her soulmate is attacked by a mindless KX unit.

Jyn had promised herself not to get attached.

But it doesn’t stop her from hating that she can’t intervene.

It doesn’t stop her from yelling and crying and begging the Force to save him.

It doesn’t stop her going hunting for KX units and imps in a cold-blooded, silent scream of rage and pain, the day she wakes up after that particular dream.

***

And it doesn’t stop her from reading Nemik’s manifesto over his shoulder, and smiling to herself the day he completes it, only to hand it over to the leader of the Rebel Alliance.

She curls up in the tiny bed she’s made for herself of cardboard boxes, clutches the kyber crystal, and mutters “now change their name, next”.

***

Cassian wakes from that dream with laughter still warm on his lips.

For all of his life, he feels as if he’d lived two lives. The one he fights through in waking, and the one he dreams of at night. It’s impossible to tear the two apart at this point. The girl is as real to him as the people he fights with, the people he laughs with, the people he loses.

She is a small miracle, a flicker of hope in the stormy war to warm his chest, always accomplishing what she sets out to do and never losing herself — even when she has lost all others.

Sometimes, he doesn’t dream of her in he present. Sometimes he dreams of her in a different setting, on a beach, somewhere warm, with the sun catching like gold in her hair. He remembers her vividly in those, adulthood shaping her face, lovely, both round and angular, her eyes wide and green, with starlight and grief and affection to dance like flecks of gold in her eyes. Deep blue all that colours her frame, her shirt, her vest, her pants.

And her hand in his.

Never had it occurred to Cassian to ask the Force if she had dreamt of him, too.

Now, it comes as a shock, a blow to the face, that she had seen him, had heard him, had followed him down his path and seen all that he had done. What had she seen? What hadn’t she seen?

Kenari, Aldhani, Ferrix?

Blood on his hands, lies in his mouth?

Another woman in his arms?

Cassian shakes his head at the last thought. She isn’t his and he isn’t hers. And somehow, Cassian thinks, she is the last person who would ever hold it against him, what he does in this war.

Whatever they are, he has never come across an existence like theirs. He’d thought the Force had simply been playing tricks on him, mocking him for reaching for every human within reach, only to take their lives when they had turned out not to be what he had expected.

He had thought the visual of a girl so alike him, and yet so much better, so much more capable of doing the right thing, had simply been a punishing reminder of his own failure to do what was right, to run from the path of the righteous rebel.

But now he sits on the edge of his bed in the Yavin Four bass, producing the gold chain with the sky kyber attached, blue and shattered transluscency.

He turns it in his hands, feels it burn against his skin and tries not to think of Aldhani.

He had been so busy that night, doing his best to run and survive. But he still remembers, all these years later, the silhouette of someone in the stars, white and gold and ethereal, so familiar and yet so beyond his reach.

The thought occurs to him, that if he isn’t being taunted with a better life by the Force, then maybe they had been bound, connected, tied together beyond space and time for some reason or other.

The beach flashes before his eyes again and Cassian shakes his head free of the image, the feeling of a body held close in his.

Whatever it is, soulmates, force bound, whatever she is, if she sees him too, then she must understand that he can see her, that he has always seen her.

Which means there is one existence in this wide galaxy that Cassian is now responsible for.

***

That he wants to be responsible for.

***

He doesn’t go looking for her.

He doesn’t.

***

Where would he even begin?

He has no clue who she is, only has a vague description in his head he can’t run through a facial recognition software. He knows she ran with a violent rebel cell, but not with one or where.

He knows so little and yet he knows everything about her.

And never is it enough to find her.

It is only ever enough to distract him during long research hours in an empty computer room, looking up planets with black soil (there are countless), looking up peoples with stars and constellations in their eyes (there are none, only fairy tales), until he falls asleep at his desk and dreams of her instead.

Dreams of the way she struggles through every day, dreams of what she has to do to keep from starving, the shoes she steals, the life she bargains for. How she steals from Imperial treasuries or cons a local politician or blows up a military base. Always alone, always lonely.

Always out of reach.

It isn’t doing him any sort of kindness, either. Melshi frowns with concern, Vel narrows her eyes suspiciously, and Cinta, as always, remains stoically silent to his predicaments.

Until one day, when he’s sitting in a meeting, invited by Mothma herself and for the first time, as an observer of all of Saw Gerrera’s cruel words launched at the Alliance.

The spectre of a hero that will do anything and everything, which haunts and terrifies and awes every alliance in equal measure, pops up in a massive hologram to begins his berating speech and Cassian—

Casian hears none of it.

He tumbles out of his chair in shock and horror, losing his balance momentarily and with a loud clatter.

Melshi and Vel both turn to look at him with astonishment, and Cassian climbs into a sitting position on the floor with a wince and an apology in his tone.

He’s rubbing the back of his head, at age twenty two, when he says “Sorry. I just… realised who my soulmate is.”

The others share a look.

“What?” Melshi demands in horror. “Saw Gerrera?”

“No. His—“ Cassian hesitates, looking down at his hands before looking up again. “His daughter.”

Now they’re openly gaping at him.

“That—“ Vel begins.

And Melshi finishes. “That’s definitely worse!”

***

And then, the dream becomes real. Someone steals his blaster.

Cassian senses the expert touch of the pickpocket, the weight being lifted from his thigh. And he whirls in the crowd to a familiar unfamiliar face.

Bright and pale, with green eyes that glow in the dusty, brown air, the miserable crowd, the girl from his dreams stands before Cassian, twirling his blaster around her indigo finger.

She’s grinning smugly.

“Let your guard down,” she says, her voice full of laughter.

And it burns over his skin, burns into him, through his soul.

“You!”

Cassian takes two quick steps, crossing the distance between them and grabbing her around the waist. She shrieks and fights, but he hauls her easily over his shoulder and starts back the way he’d come.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she complains.

“Only whatever you’re letting me,” Cassian responds, laughter in his voice now.

He shouldn’t be so calm about this. They’re making a spectacle, and this planet is still imperially occupied. He’s a spy, and he knows the consequences of being spotted, but somehow none of it matters. Somehow, he feels safe, feels free, feels mischievous for the first time in as long as he can remember. Simply by being in her presence, finally.

#Rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain fic #rogue one #star wars #cassian andor #jyn erso #fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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secretwhumplair · 1 year

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The proposal, p.2

1,373 words | Royal arms (sequel to The proposal, p.1)

Content | Captivity, fear for loved ones, implied starvation, political/implied forced marriage, discussion of a trans man getting pregnant

Notes | Rejoice! Arracen is now officially canonically trans!

Some of this probably comes a bit out of left field and that's because I didn't know from the start lol.

Taglist | @whumpy-writings @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @newbornwhumperfly @nicolepascaline @thegreatwhodini @neverthelass @wolfeyedwitch @onlybadendings @quietshae @whumpcreations @whumpydaydreams @whumpsy-daisy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @kixngiggles @tears-and-lilies @melancholy-in-the-morning @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whump-cravings

As Arracen got to his feet, the scent wafting up from the table made his stomach growl, easily loud enough for Idalis to hear, and he had to swallow down more tears, this time of sheer humiliation. But Idalis didn’t comment. Arracen didn’t even catch a smirk.

Idalis started eating as soon as Arracen sat down, implying permission to follow his lead. Arracen tried to remain civil, tried not to let on how desperate he was, even as the food in front of him pushed every other worry to the back of his mind. It shouldn’t, really. What was he, some kind of beast?

He felt Idalis’ sharp eyes on himself, still, and once he had sated the worst of his hunger, he forced himself to look at him again; he wouldn’t sit here with his head down like a kicked dog waiting for his new master to grace him with some insight into what was going on.

Even though maybe it would have been safer.

»I was under the impression you kept a human pet,« Idalis said abruptly, dipping his bread into the rich broth that had been served. »I’ve since been informed of the situation. It seems we are on the same page about this matter.«

Arracen’s mind, still reeling from the absurd accusation, raced to figure out what Idalis was trying to tell him. Was he trying to make him feel secure? Preparing to pull the rug by telling him this was their only common ground and so Arracen was currently having his last meal?

He had - at least heard about, if not met, Lint. Something must have happened, for better or for worse. That was, really, the only thing that mattered.

He couldn’t fuck this up, for his and Nelisa’s sake. »I’m glad to hear that.« Have you met Lint? Is he alright? What have you done with him?

»He’s fine.« This time Idalis smirked, and Arracen couldn’t keep looking at him, knowing how transparent he was. »He and your other lover.«

Nelisa hadn’t had the good sense to escape, then. He was momentarily overwhelmed with a mixture of terror and selfish relief, but he had to focus. There it was - the threat was coming, he could feel it, as inevitable as a monster approaching a ship at sea. Idalis was just about to tell him what he would need to do, what more of his dignity he would have to trade away, to keep it this way.

The worst part was that he would do it. Of course he would.

»But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you. I have a proposal to offer you.«

Oh, of course. A proposal. If Arracen hadn’t been so hungry, his appetite would have abandoned him at the duplicity. »I’m listening.« What else could he say?

»I purpose to marry you.«

For a moment, Arracen could only stare in shock. One among the two of them had lost his mind, there was no other explanation. »I beg your pardon?« he finally choked out.

»I wish to marry you.« Idalis set his cutlery down. »Your people love you, you know that. It will be easier for me, and them, if they learn to love me also, and what simpler way to achieve that than through you? And further, I will need an heir sooner or later. That is to say, a consort that will carry them.«

Arracen swallowed thickly. It was always going to come to this; he had known that his whole life. If there was one thing royals did not get a choice in, it was the matter of producing an heir. It had been easy to put it out of his mind, for a time.

But maybe he shouldn’t have.

Then it wouldn’t have hit him like a horse’s kick to the chest now, when everything hinged on his reaction.

»If you agree, and I find you trustworthy, you may rule this your country in my stead while I’m away. Your lovers will be safe - I won’t mind them-« his eyes flickered to Cassio, »-as long as the child is mine, and so long as my husband cares for them, I will protect them like family.« There was a genuine softness to his voice for a moment, before he sobered up. »And you are also royal. You, too, will need an heir sooner or later. I am offering you a mutually beneficial arrangement.«

Arracen still couldn’t find words. All his lessons in diplomacy and rhetorics, swept away by the notion that, in fact, he could not and would not lead the life of a man given a body that fit.

Idalis gave a small huff. »Let me be clear, I am proposing to take you as my king consort, not my queen. You can have all the moondew you want after you give me an heir; it will be easy, now that we can work on rebuilding the trade routes. But I do need an heir and - I like men. Which makes you the preferred candidate, politics aside.« His voice trailed off, and for the first time, his gaze did too.

It was true, Arracen reckoned. There weren’t many male royals with a womb, not that he knew of. The argument made his heart a little lighter, even; Idalis was choosing him because he was a man, not in spite of it.

Not to spite him.

He had heard of moondew - that fairytale substance that could transform someone’s body to match their soul. It wasn’t really a fairytale, but it might as well have been in the chaos of the past years, with him going to be a hostage at Thobrinos’ court, and then the war Idalis started messing up all the trade routes from the west.

Eliphion, the country that was truly Idalis’ own, held the largest known sources. He wasn’t making an empty promise, or at least he wasn’t thinking so, Arracen was willing to believe that much.

But none of that mattered; he had to stay sensible. All the sweet promises aside, he was being coerced into marriage with a man who had taken what was his, and was now offering it right back to him as if it was a great gift.

He might have to take it - that was the worst part - but he would not let Idalis pretend it was anything other. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to see what was underneath the mask, but he wouldn’t just let it slide like a helpless child. »And if I don’t agree?« His voice almost cracked over the words, and he hated it.

Idalis cocked his head, eyeing him as if he hadn’t particularly considered this eventuality. »I will appoint a steward I see fit, and you… well, I suppose I could just put you under house arrest. See to it that you don’t stir up trouble. Your people wouldn’t be thrilled to hear you’re dead, I’m sure, and I am no tyrant.«

Arracen had to hold back a snort at the last words; that was rich. »And what of… Lint and Nelisa?« Idalis had said he would protect them if Arracen married him. Which must mean-

»You really care for them, don’t you?« Idalis said softly, as if he didn’t know, as if he wasn’t holding their lives over Arracen’s head. »They could go into house arrest with you, if they so choose. Or they could go back to Skalasia. I don’t care, so long as they don’t start trouble here.«

Once more, Arracen found himself thrown off balance.

There was no threat - nothing that would make matters worse, when matters weren’t half as bad as he had feared, and an option that would make matters better.

Well, largely better.

»May I consider?« he finally managed. Part of him doubted he would be given time; surely, Idalis had purposely sprung the proposal on him like this, so he would feel cornered and make an unwise choice.

But part of him didn’t believe that any more.

»Of course.« Idalis smiled, and it looked bafflingly genuine. What did he think he was doing? Did he really believe this was a generous offer? »When you’ve finished your meal, would you like to see your lovers? Take it as a sign of goodwill.«

This one Arracen couldn’t think about twice.

#whump #whump writing #arranged marriage #my writing #royal arms #arracen #idalis #cassio is baaarely in this one but it's important that he is present c: Idalis wouldn't do this without him

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mlobsters · 10 months

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supernatural s6e11 appointment in samarra (w. sera gamble, robert singer)

reminds me a bit of where julia went to get medical/god related problem fixed in the magicians (sera gamble showrunner)

the magicians s2e7 plan b

is dean gonna try to make an appointment with big d death by temporarily killing himself

DEATH Sam's soul or Adam's.

DEAN But --

DEATH As a rule, I don't bring people back. I might make an exception once, not twice. So...Pick.

eyeroll. frankly forgot adam was there too, and felt like the show did too. but hey opportunity for dean to have to make a completely inevitable but guilt inducing choice for sam, you know they can't pass that up.

DEATH She's right. Nothing lasts forever. Well, I do, but...

*rimshot*

so pretty

DEATH I want you to be me for one day.

all right i mean, i mentioned this in the last one too, but sam is understandably pissed what with dean going behind his back to work a deal with death for his soul, essentially a medical decision. we're so far afield from reality, but thinking about it from a disability justice standpoint.

anyway. i liked death got up in dean's face to remind him that he's.... death.

TESSA Wow. They'll just let any slack-jawed haircut be Death these days.

lol what a random insult. dean and his generic hair (of which i pretty much have the same haircut at the moment)

oh what is robosam up to now. i don't even remember what the beef was with balthazar. rereading the summary, i must have been really out of it trying to watch that episode.

BALTHAZAR Well. The plot thickens. Where's your soul, Sam? Good God, no. It's not still...It is.

SAM My brother found a way to put it back in me. I don't want it.

BALTHAZAR No, you don't. No, no, 'cause Michael and Lucy are hate-banging it as we speak.

sigh. (it's a metaphor and that's that)

i suppose this (going after bobby) is supposed help us remember that soulless!sam isn't just harmless and fun and helpful like they have been selling so nicely the past few episodes.

obviously we were gonna have to kill a kid in his rounds. but i do not understand this whole, i'm putting my foot down thing. because isn't that breaking the rules and that means no soul for sam??

dean is shockingly bad at following the rules here. like. what. was the point of this. getting sam's soul was not enough motivation to suck it up?

here we go again (goin down the only road we've ever known)

i see. gotta teach dean a lesson, that you can tie into sort of consequences of them dying/not dying on the regular.

DEATH I wouldn't do it for you. You and your brother keep coming back. You're an affront to the balance of the universe, and you cause disruption on a global scale.

DEAN I apologize for that.

DEATH But you have use. Right now, you're digging at something. The intrepid Detective. I want you to keep digging, Dean.

hmm.

also, make it seem less horrible that they're forcing the soul into him against his will if he's willing to straight up murder bobby to keep it out. he's not able to make rational decisions, don't need consent now!

i get it. but also :p

jackles and julian richings work really well together (though i think julian is doing the heavy lifting). good conversations. and it's nice they're fleshing out death's character some

DEATH It might feel a little… itchy. Do me a favor, don't scratch the wall. Trust me, you're not gonna like what happens.

that's so funny, when i read in fic he was scratching at the wall, i didn't expect it to be described as exactly that.

ok then. next episode ought to be interesting

(wiki)

Tessa: Just so you know, when people die they might have questions for you. Well, you know, not you, but Death.

Dean: You mean like, how did Betty White outlast me? Betty White was an American actress, animal rights activist, author, comedian, radio host, singer, and television personality born in 1922. She passed away in 2021, ironically outlasting Dean Winchester himself.

NO. bad wiki

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 6x11 #julian richings #robosam #for the last time?#the magicians #sera gamble #robert singer #mangled whitesnake lyrics #spn-tm-thoughts

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deathandthemaiden23 · 1 year

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Love Drunk (NSFW ONESHOT)

Death and Sidhela go out on a date at the local tavern, and eventually, inebriation gives way to more intimacy.

“How about it, mi nina…?” He coos down at her. His hand starts to find its way into her own lap, rubbing against her thigh and tracing idle circles in the fabric of her dress, concealed and kept fairly discreet under the table as she sucks in a hitching gasp of excitement. “Do you want tu Muerte to take you home and spread your pretty little legs…?”

She swallows hard and nods shyly at him. “Y-Yes… P-Please…” She whimpers.

He pulls back, leaving her visibly disappointed. “Think we’ll need a lot more to drink than this, then.” He says with a grin, then calling for the bartender.

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

He takes a sip from his tankard and studies her with silent admiration from across the booth, wrapped up in her winter cloak to shield herself from the blustering cold. They were sat towards the door, which was rather unfortunate for her, rather sensitive to the frigid wind outside and a girl admittedly more acclimated to the summer climate than the harsh winters of her small village. Despite her newfound form as a member of the bean sidhe, she was still warm to the touch most of the time, although he was so cold himself that it was almost inevitable that anyone else would seem that way in comparison. Nevertheless, however, he found it cute, the way she would intentionally hide herself in her little Galway shawl whenever they went out in public together so as not to be recognized by anyone in the town. Fadó was not the kind of place she wanted to be recognized, neither as a banshee nor the woman she had been before the affliction of her curse. If she had her way, she would exist as nothing more than a ghost.

Death seemed perfectly capable of keeping his own presence clandestine to the outside observer for the most part, but here with her he was content to take corporeal form, if for no other reason than he didn’t want for anyone in the bar to get the wrong idea and think that it was okay to approach her with anything within the realm of sinister intent. If push came to shove, he would defend her without question, but he was admittedly not in the mood to spar with any of the fools who might take issue with them. Rather, he was in a dopey, lovesick mood at the moment, an infectious condition in which she had no doubt infested him, and he was rather determined to bask in it for the time being. His job was more tedious than usual as of late; he supposed it must be as a result of the honeymoon phase they’d found themselves in following their first few forays into sexual exploration together, that the rest of the world seemed gray now that she had introduced such color and excitement into his life. He never wanted to be apart from her, and every time he was, he simply counted the minutes until he could finally return to her side. Just as she was acclimated to the enveloping warmth of the tepid summertide, he was irrevocably attached to the coziness of her effortlessly whimsical company. Around her, he didn’t feel so cold anymore.

It was an embarrassing concession, to a certain extent, that he had acquiesced to such domestication in such a short amount of time. He was Death, after all; he was an intimidating, formidable force that weakened the collective knees of every species upon this land, but… Around Sidhela, he was almost reduced to a loyal puppy simply following her around. He didn’t care what activity she proposed; if she was to be his company, he found enjoyment in just about anything. He had candidly told her as much on more than one occasion when her insecurity would rear its ugly head and make her hesitant to speak her mind to him, that, as far as he were concerned, they could simply watch paint dry and it would be the most riveting source of conversation simply because she was sat next to him, preferably with their hands entangled. How he loved to hold her hand and study her palm and idly trace the lines there with his claw; he didn’t know palmistry, to be perfectly honest, but he was compelled by the story those lines told anyway. They did, however, make him a little sad, because some of those lines were not there organically, but were instead scars from having dug her nails in there with her clenched fists in old, desperate, lonely times, times where he wasn’t around to comfort her, where she had to stand alone against the world with no one at her back to defend her beyond a small family just as alienated from the town as she was. It couldn’t be helped, for he hadn’t known her then, but… He knew her now, and he was determined to keep knowing her.

She’d ordered some kind of fruity, floral drink from the tavern’s menu, something undeniably boozy but still muddled with so much sugar that he almost couldn’t taste the alcohol to begin with when she excitedly insisted that he try it, pushing it across the table at him with the most adorable little grin on her face. He found he couldn’t say no to an indirect kiss, and he so loved to make her happy, so he accepted the small, battered chalice and lifted it up to his maw for a little sip. He didn’t often imbibe alcohol, to tell the truth, it was a vice he saved only for special occasions, but any occasion with her was an occasion worthy of celebration, so he didn’t mind indulging just a little bit, at least for tonight. The booze warmed his throat; it was a nicely aged whiskey with notes of lemon and elderflower, and there was an elegant slice of cucumber floating on top of the ice to bring all the flavors together. After trying it he almost admittedly regretted his own drink choice, which was a tremendously bitter and potent potato moonshine. It was enjoyable for him, really, he’d always been partial to moonshine regardless of its cultural origin, but embarrassingly, he found himself wishing for that fruity drink in her hand anyway.

Even more embarrassingly, she seems to notice him staring at it and giggles at him in amusement. “You can have more, mo chroi. In fact—” She exchanges glasses with him, straining to reach for the tankard in his hand as she replaces it with her own cup. She places it lovingly in his paw and smiles when his fingers close around it, brushing up against hers as she pulls away again with an unmistakably dopey smile. “Why don’t we trade? I’ve always wanted to try poitín.” She notes, pulling it close to her chest. He cannot help but stare as some of it jostles up and out of the tankard at the commotion and lands on her ample cleavage, making it glisten ever so slightly for his lecherous gaze.

“You’re not gonna like it.” He warns her, although chuckling as he takes another sip of her drink at her permission.

“Maybe.” She giggles. “But I won’t know until I try.” She lifts it up to her face and the sheer strength of the alcohol is indicated by the smell of it, so powerful that it makes her eyes water as she immediately pulls it away from her face. “Faith and begorrah!” She exclaims, earning a boisterous laugh from him. “…Smells like shite.” She says with a disgusted grimace.

He continues to chuckle, setting her cup down and gently prying the tankard loose from her fingers. “That’s about the reaction I expected.” He says teasingly, taking it back and sipping from it again with not so much as a flinch from the abrasive burn on his tongue as he observes her face starting to flare up with flustered embarrassment at her own folly. He pushes her drink gently across the table at her once more. “…Pick it up, cosa dulce.” He instructs her in a low voice, firm but lush.

He's charmed when she obeys him without question, shyly wrapping her fingers around it and gingerly lifting it to her mouth, shivering with delight at the warmth and pleasant sweetness washing over her from the alcohol when she takes a drink. She seems to be quite taken indeed with his subtle dominance over her if the subtle musk of her shameful desire is anything to go off of. His tail sways slowly with unmistakable fondness and mutual want for her. “It’s okay, princesa, moonshine is… An acquired taste.”

She frowns at him, but ends up giggling again. “I suppose.” She concedes, still blushing. “You seem to drink it so effortlessly, though.”

“I’m used to it.” He says simply, eyes closed in content as he continues sipping from his tankard. When he opens them again, he beams at her with a sly smile. “It’s a taste I’ve acquired.” He says, reiterating his earlier point.

She sets down her drink and begins playing with her hands, quiet and nervous as though she wanted to say something but didn’t have the gall.

“Ah, the fiddling of the hands…” He observes astutely from behind his cup. She wasn’t even aware he’d been looking at her— until a mere second ago, his eyes had been closed again. She squeaks, self-conscious, and immediately works to calm her shaking fingers, even more taken aback when he reaches across the booth to wrap his own hand around one of hers. He pulls it gently towards him and plants a kiss on it. “What… Embarrassing question ails you this time, ninita?” He smiles roguishly, enjoying her apparent discomfort. Letting her hand go, much to her noticeable disappointment, he gives her a look of concern. “Ay, pequena, you’re shivering.” He notes, a little worriedly as he briefly abandons his previous question.

“I’m right by the door.” She tells him a little flatly, another helpless shudder rippling through her as the tavern’s entrance opens once more to welcome the next patron.

“Well, I’d tell you to come closer to me so you can warm up, but I don’t exactly have any body heat to offer you.” He jokes a bit awkwardly, self-consciously rubbing the back of his head. It was times like these he wished he could be warm; it wasn’t necessary for him to need warmth, of course, but at the very least he wanted to bring her the comfort of his physical contact without her often shivering in his arms. It didn’t stop her from regularly seeking his touch anyway, but he felt bad about it nonetheless. However, against all odds he watches her get up eagerly from her side of the booth as though she’d been waiting impatiently for his permission to come over and joins him anyway, gesturing for him to scoot over so she can cozy against the side of him, wrapping her arm around his and nuzzling adorably against his poncho.

“Much better.” She sighs affectionately, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his cloak as though she were a cat rubbing its face against its owner’s leg in a gesture of fondness.

Flustered now by the unexpected contact, he glances down at her. “I just told you, mi nina—”

“Don’t care.” She breathes, turning in towards his side and placing a delicate hand at his chest as she pulls back to look up at him. “I told you that you’re warm to me, didn’t I?”

“Always thought that might be a kind of metaphorical warmth, but okay.” He says embarrassedly, almost to himself.

She shakes her head. “Not at all.” She disagrees, earning a small smile from him as he stares down at her with lidded eyes effortlessly communicating his lust and desire. Really, could she be any more perfect for him? She’s silent for a moment as her eyes falter momentarily from his, apparently gathering up the courage to speak again. She looks at him again, her eyes timid. “…Mo ghra, I… I just wanted to know if I was ever an acquired taste for you.” She hesitantly tells him, broaching the topic of their earlier conversation again.

“Mi amada…” He begins, almost in chastisement of her.

“I’m serious.” She insists, pressing him. “Y-You can tell me, you know, if… I-If the way I am, if it… Ever got on your nerves. I promise I can handle it—” She disclaims quickly. “I just… Wonder.”

“If ever I have a bone to pick, it’s with your constant anxiety.” He answers very frankly. “But…” He trails off, rubbing her arm in reassurance as he can feel her stiffening up with discomfort at his assessment. “…That’s not a demerit against you. It’s something you can’t help; I know that very well, and it’s not your fault.”

“I’m s-sorry.” She apologizes reflexively. “I’ve always been this way, I-I’m… Suh-Sorry. I know it’s annoying.”

“Not annoying, it just… Makes me sad.” He admits to her. “It makes me wish I could help, it’s frustrating to know that… Well, that I can’t fix it.”

“You do help, though.” She assures him. “Muerte, you’re my medicine. I don’t know how I ever got along without you, really.”

“It makes me sad that you need my company to see color in this world.” He continues, continuing to wistfully rub her arm in an attempt to comfort her even in spite of the grim nature of this conversation.

“Love is powerful.” She tells him, squirming ever so slightly in her seat, staring off into space at the door as she speaks. “I-It’s… A cure all for so many people, and… M-Maybe things wouldn’t have been so hard for me for so many years if… If I’d had someone like you to help me through the pain.”

“You know, it fills me with regret every time I have to leave you.” He says, almost mournful in his tone, even elegiac and somber. “I wish you could come with me, everywhere I go. It would make me so happy to show you the world, ninita. You’ve been confined to this small, hateful little town for your entire life, and there’s so much beauty to be seen in this land. It fills me with a profound sorrow, that I can’t just… Share everything with you like you deserve.”

“Oh, Muerte, I can see all of that already just being around you.” She tries to reassure him softly.

“You don’t need to try to spare my feelings, Sidhela.” He frowns, almost cutting her off.

“I’m not, I’m really not.” She tells him earnestly, seeming a little hurt. “I promise. I don’t need to see the world; it makes me content to just… Share your company.”

He sighs, appearing to have not much else to say on the subject, it having visibly seemed to dampen his mood considerably. She starts to feel bad just looking at him, beginning to regret having even asked the question of his opinion of her in the first place. She starts to beat herself up for it in her mind; she should have just kept her mouth shut, she should have just held her tongue. It was clear this topic of discussion hurt him, and yet she couldn’t help herself from talking about it anyway.

“…I’m sorry, Muerte.” She tells him quietly, rubbing his chest in an attempt to coax some happiness out of him now. “I’ll try working on it. I know it makes you unhappy to see me being so insecure all the time.”

“You can’t just stop being the way you are. Your condition as a banshee is not your only curse, mi nina. You’re cursed with an anxiety that I can’t cure, how matter how much I wish I could.”

“I can try to work on it.” She insists. “I want to be better for you.”

“You’re just perfect for me.” He corrects her. “I shouldn’t have raised an issue about this to begin with. Forgive me, mi dulce, for speaking out of turn.”

“I asked you an unfair question.” She says in a mouse-like voice. “I put you on the spot.”

He shrugs. “Don’t think anything of it.” He brushes her off.

“Can we j-just… Forget I ever asked?” She asks him timidly. “We were having such a good time, mo ghra. I’d hate to have that completely ruined.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “…I think that’s a good idea.” He says, a smile taking over his expression again. “Hey—” He says, turning towards her now, taking on a much more carefree attitude again as though he was just as eager to forget the previous conversation as she was. “Have you ever been completely wasted? I must admit, I’m very interested to see what you’re like when you’re drunk.” He grins at her, briefly imagining in that moment her slurring and garbling her words at him adorably, almost unintelligible, her cheeks hot with her inebriation as well as… His tail curls around his leg in stimulated excitement at the mere thought. Her, leaning against him to keep upright, her affection towards him seemingly multiplied tenfold by her intoxicated state as she clung to his poncho all the while. The way she’d giggle and snort-laugh happily as she found herself swung upright into his strong and capable arms, as he carried her back towards the cottage, helpless as her dizzy head began to swim with thoughts of unmistakable desire for him.

“Mo ghra…” She’d say slowly and disjointedly, tracing circles in his poncho as she stared up at him with lidded, almost sleepy eyes.

He’d be equally drunk, of course, but that wouldn’t stop him from his resolve to get them back in that bedroom of hers in one piece; not necessarily with the strict end goal of sex in mind. That would be wonderful of course, and he’d enjoy every last second of it, but at the very least he wanted to hold her close to him under her comforter and simply bask in the coziness of her presence.

But she would want it, yes she would. She would likely be the one to initiate such an encounter; shy as she was, she had a certain saucy boldness around him that never failed to arouse him, that never failed to consume him with a mad heat. He was finding over time, much to his own inner flusterment and slight dismay, that his libido was starting to get more out of control. He supposed it must be from eons of being almost ridiculously touch-starved, completely devoid of truly affectionate touch from another living being, and finally tasting the honied sweetness of sexual intimacy made him slavish to the mere concept of it. He wanted, he craved to fuck her constantly. It was almost embarrassing. He never thought in all his existence that he could be so humbled by love and devotion, so beholden to simple desire that he would seek it out at any given opportunity. He was used to having the upper hand over everyone that encountered him, but not with her. He didn’t have the upper hand with her. It was a nice change of pace, but he just wasn’t used to it.

He snaps out of his fantasy when she starts to speak in response to his inquiry, self-consciously clenching his hindlegs ever so slightly, his fantasy so apparently stimulating in that moment that he was growing hard right there in the tavern.

With a giggle, she starts to play idly with a lock of her own silver hair. He gets nervous at the way she rubs his leg, her hand dangerously close to discovering his erection. “W-Well… I’m heavier, Muerte, so it takes a lot to get me actually drunk.”

He swallows uncomfortably. If he pushed her hand away, she’d get suspicious of him. “You haven’t really answered my question though.” He manages teasingly, forcing a wolfish smile at her.

“I have, once or twice.” She admits bashfully. “But only on special occasions, a-and… Never with anyone else around.”

“Why not?” He asks, frowning.

“W-Well, because I’m embarrassing when I’m drunk.” She laughs nervously. “I’m… Loud, and... A-And loopy.”

“Well, that sounds just adorable to me.” He grins. He pulls her closer as she squeaks quietly, and then, and then, her hand accidentally brushes up against his bulge. He freezes up in mortification, soundly regretting his actions just then.

She quickly pulls her hand back in flusterment at the sensation of him. “M-Muerte....!” She gasps, startled.

“I’m s-sorry.” He reflexively apologizes. “You weren’t supposed to…”

But her hand is already back at his knee, and she’s cornering him against the side of wall now. “Oh daor, Muerte, you’re excited for me, aren’t you…?” She breathes, cocking her head at him with a sweet smile.

He swallows, rediscovering his boldness at her apparent reciprocation of his shameful feelings as a low growl starts to thrum in his throat. “Maybe I am…” He answers back decadently. “But, what are you going to do, huh? Make a scene in the bar? Not a very good idea, ninita…”

“Well, we could go home…” She suggests, smiling at him. “But…You said you wanted to see me drunk… Do you still want that, o-or… Do you want something else instead…?”

“Why not both, hmm?” He says teasingly. She starts to warm at the suggestion, a powerful wave of arousal rippling up her spine and making her shiver. “How about it, mi nina…?” He coos down at her. His hand starts to find its way into her own lap, rubbing against her thigh and tracing idle circles in the fabric of her dress, concealed and kept fairly discreet under the table as she sucks in a hitching gasp of excitement. “Do you want tu Muerte to take you home and spread your pretty little legs…?”

She swallows hard and nods shyly at him. “Y-Yes… P-Please…” She whimpers.

He pulls back, leaving her visibly disappointed. “Think we’ll need a lot more to drink than this, then.” He says with a grin, then calling for the bartender. He orders a flagon of mead for them to share, and it’s not long before the continuous imbibement of alcohol has both of their heads swimming with a million different trains of thought. Some of them are simply innocent, lovesick musings of how cute they thought the other was; most of them, however, are shameful and wanton and carnal.

At around the stroke of seven in the evening, they finally stumble out of the bar together, Sidhela clinging to his arm for dear life as he clumsily leads the way on the seemingly endless journey out of the town square, her teeth chattering helplessly from the frigid cold all the while. The trip home seems to take an eternity, but once the cozy warmth of her forest cottage settles back into their bones, their lust promptly picks back up where it had left off in the bar. Back in the sanctity of their home, they’re free to be as frisky as they please; Death peppers her lips with passionate little kisses as they stagger back towards the hall leading to her bedroom, feeling each other up and undressing each other in an impatient frenzy as she desperately kisses him back all the while. In the commotion, a vase gets knocked off an end table and shatters against the floor, but neither of them could honestly care less.

Sidhela, in her drunken stupor, clings to his chest for dear life as she pulls him back towards her canopy bed. She parts the curtain and climbs inside, pleased and hopelessly turned on as he immediately follows her into the plush security of her bed. She collapses onto her back and invites him to climb over her with a saucy, crooked finger, but he seems to have other plans as he grips her by the waist and hoists her effortlessly into his lap. She giggles as she’s positioned there, but the sensation of his massive cock sliding up against the creaminess of her vulnerable slit makes her gasp with helpless titillation. He chuckles darkly as she adjusts herself to mount him without hesitation, placing his hands on her hips to stop her.

“Now, now, in good time, ninita…” He tells her gently. “I’ve got something else in mind first…”

“What?” She asks him desperately. “Please, Muerte—”

“Shhhh…” He shushes her with a sly smile, and she stiffens with another girlish gasp as his fingers have already found their way to her dripping cunt, him beginning his filthy exploration of her most intimate place as she arches her spine and whimpers his name. He slips one finger into the tightness of her opening, stretching her open with one digit followed by another as they sink in to his knuckle. Stroking upward at her walls, his lazy smile spreads into a grin as she starts to fidget and squirm in his lap.

“M-Muerte…” She sobs, riding his fingers in a way utterly wanton and frantic as he continues to fuck her generously with his hand. “I… I… H-Hahahhh…”

She swallows hard and buries her face in his chest, humping his fingers with reckless abandon. His claws scrape at her insides but her walls are so plush and slick with arousal that she barely feels it. His palm grinds harshly against her clit all the while, and he’s even gleaning pleasure of his own from her ass bouncing tirelessly over his cock, growling and groaning in excruciating want to sink his shaft deep inside her eager passage again, but not yet. It was sexually stimulating all on its own simply to have her mewl and simper for him so desperately, it got him all pent-up and frustrated in the best way possible and prepared him for their eventual intimacy. He communicates his want for her in almost incoherent, drunken mumbling under his breath, whispering filthy words to her in his language that he knew she didn’t fully understand, but could derive arousal from simply from the filthy, lecherous tone of his voice.

“Ay mierda…” His voice rumbles as he fingers her expertly with his surprisingly dexterous fingers. He starts to thrust his hips up in a desperate attempt to create more friction between their bodies, and his head starts to swim at the sensory overload, at the alcohol still in his system making everything dizzy and delirious in the best way possible. Every movement feels as though he’s on a boat, swaying and rocking back and forth with the bobbing waves; it’s an addicting feeling, and he was almost getting close at the mere needy sound of her, echoing in his head like the most beautiful siren song as it pulls him all the closer to her. She bounces on his fingers, grinding incessantly against them in a frantic attempt to scratch her carnal itch, and she’s getting close, it’s washing over her body like tides on a sandy shore, getting closer and closer with the awesome, swelling might of the ocean’s depths threatening to pull her in and drown her with ecstasy completely.

At the worst possible second, at the most infuriating moment he pulls his fingers out of her; he relishes in her frustrated whine at his denial of her impending orgasm, but he decided that this had gone on for far too long, he had denied his own pleasure long enough, and now he was utterly tired of it. He places a hand on her chest and shoves her onto her back as she squeaks loudly in shock, a raw, primal urge sweeping over him as he grips her by her ankles and yanks her towards him again before rolling her over onto her stomach. He hikes her ass in the air without a word, seeing only her in his tunnel vision, the path ahead so narrow but so crystal clear at her mere presence at the end of it. Fitting his massive, hulking frame over hers, he grips her hips almost painfully as he rubs against her feverishly. He lines himself up and pushes in at long last, bolstered by the way she pushes her ass back against his pelvis and whines almost pathetically at the sensation of his cock stretching her open again so deliciously. She spreads her legs further apart to allow him deeper access, overcome with shameless lust for him as he snarls in approval and rears his hips back to issue a hard, punishing thrust.

“Cosita sucia…” He grunts down at her as she looses a high-pitched squeal and collapses unceremoniously into the bed beneath her, muttering brokenly and drunkenly in her pleasure as she simply lays and takes his aggressive treatment. In his own drunken state, he’s leaning against her, almost crushing her underneath his weight, pinning her against the mattress with no path to escape as he takes what he wants and so desperately needs from her. He ruts in and out of her cunt, so sweet and tight, pulling closer, getting faster with every single thrust until she’s practically caterwauling, squalling and bleating pathetically as she’s powerless to stop her advancing orgasm so rapidly approaching.

“Mue-Muerte… Muerte, le do thoil… Le do thoil…” She weeps like a broken record, burying her face in her hands and muffling her cries there, almost shrieking as he takes a handful of her hair from behind her and harshly yanks her scalp back so he can whisper in her ear.

“No hiding, ninita…” He breathes in a terrifying, guttural snarl. He suddenly lets go of her hair and lets her drop, landing gracelessly on her face again. But she meekly obeys his instruction, finding her thirst for his degradation partially sated by his chastisement just then as she props herself on her elbows and grips her sheets tightly in a desperate effort to keep herself grounded through the onslaught. But she wanted more, she wanted him to make her feel shame, embarrassment. Even in her inebriated state, she’s cogent in the sense that she knows what she wants from him. Trouble is, however, that she didn’t know how to ask for it, nor invoke it. She wanted to tell him to call her names and push her down and… Her face burns at the thought of him even spanking her with those great big hands of his, so much so that she unconsciously starts to push her ass back into his pelvis again.

“M-Muerte, I-I…” She mewls, doing everything in her power to fit in closer to him. He growls in approval at the sheer shameless display of her desire, and seems to reward her with a few especially deep thrusts until it completely and utterly ruins her. “MUERT— Mmph!” His hand is clamped over her mouth now as she cums, forcibly silencing her as she bucks and squirms underneath him to escape the excruciating weight of her own climax slamming into her like a freight train. But he doesn’t join her in her orgasm this time, him naturally lagging behind her as a result of her significant head start over him from earlier, and only continues his persistent, dogged pace. This naturally invites a delicious ache she had never quite experienced before; as he keeps thrusting away with reckless abandon, rendering her powerless to evade his cock as he fills her over and over again with boundless enthusiasm in an attempt to trigger his own long-awaited release, she finds herself hopelessly overcome by the utterly painful decadence of overstimulation. He seems to have gotten more aggressive now, spurred on with pent-up frustration at the feeling of her walls fluttering and contracting around him, and this only makes it all the more excruciating; her cunt is so raw and sore from so much continued abuse and rough treatment, but in such a way that it paradoxically makes her want more from him, so much more.

He seems utterly unconcerned at the matter of her pleasure now, far too overcome by the primal heat in his core to do little else but buck and thrust endlessly until he finally reached his own blissful end. And it was getting close, so close that he can taste it; devoid of coherence and his usual eloquence, he simply groans her name repeatedly, eyes closed, brows furrowed in frustration as he bounds closer and closer to it. He rocks against her furiously, humping her endlessly as though in heat until it finally passes over him. Seizing up with a loud snarl, he hits climax at long last and hilts his cock inside a final time as his knot inevitably begins to swell and engorge to seal off her tiny hole. His release is already spilling from the tip of his cock and pooling inside of her, and he finds himself paying her a few more powerful but shallow thrusts to push his cock deeper inside; his knot doesn’t escape her, but the movement is enough to stretch her hole open just a little bit and make her gasp so deliciously in muted pain that it makes pleasure in its simplest essence ripple through his core again.

“Muy bien…” He breathes into her hair, almost completely winded. He was cold, so cold, but between this and the alcohol still lingering in his system, he could swear he had never been so warm.

His pelvis attached intimately at her own, he’s careful not to hurt her much more as he rolls them over so he’s positioned beneath her now, with her laying atop him facing the ceiling, pleased as she simply complies with his direction without complaint or protest. Decently lucid again once more in the aftermath of his climax, he decides he isn’t quite done with her yet, sliding a hand underneath her thigh and pulling it outward to spread her legs again for him. Seeming to catch the hint, she parts her thighs the rest of the way of her own volition with a shuddering whimper to communicate her consent to whatever he was intent on doing, pleasantly surprised and shocked as he focuses his attention at her clit now with a sensual, cursory stroke. He circles his finger around it very slowly and deliberately, his other hand cupping around her tit as he starts to play with her most sensitive areas, and she writhes on top of him in unmistakable pleasure at his ministrations. She sings his name in keening sobs, eagerly submitting to his will without question because the way he made her feel was just so fucking good.

“Do you like when I touch you here?” He breathes, now beginning to sober up ever so slightly as he traces his finger around her sensitive bud. “Oh, I can tell you like this… Arch your spine, nina sucia…” He instructs her, pleased when she immediately obeys him. He works her to her second climax over time, purely clitoral and thus immensely excruciating in the best way, strengthened and intensified by the way he holds her legs open so she can do nothing but convulse powerlessly as it passed over her, gasping his name like a feverish prayer until it finally ebbed away and left her utterly spent in his arms.

“Yes… Buena nina…” He praises her, intimately sliding his paw around to caress her belly, now swelling from the sheer amount of seed inside of her.

Still catching her breath, she stares at the ceiling with widened saucer eyes, the residual threads of such a powerful orgasm having broken her mind ever so slightly. His cock still buried inside of her, she presses her hands to her hot cheeks and lets out a shuddering sigh.

“Oh dhia…” She whispers. “Oh, Muerte…”

His breathing is much more even and temperate by now, and he seems to hum as he continues to rub against her tummy.

“If only…” He says quietly to himself.

“Hmm?” She makes a sound of adorable curiosity at his words, having just barely heard him, and he chuckles.

“Nothing, querida.” He says dismissively, petting her hair now. “Just… Thinking out loud.”

“Of what?” She asks innocently, glancing up in his direction, though she couldn’t see his face from this angle. “Can you tell me?”

He sighs, pausing as he tries to decide whether or not it’d be a good idea to broach such a topic with her. He ultimately decides that it was worth the risk, because really, this had been on his mind since their first time having sex, and he knew she was the hopeless romantic-type. It was likely she wanted such a thing as well, so he decides to go for broke. “…I was just thinking that it’d be nice, you know, to create life someday.”

“Create life…” She parrots him quietly, slightly confused by the phrasing. “O-Oh.” She says, her face flushing furiously as she suddenly realizes what he meant by that. “D-Do you…”

“I’m afraid it’s probably not even possible.” He says wistfully. “It makes no sense, really.”

“How can you be sure?” She asks, challenging him gently. “You know, Muerte, a lot of things don’t make sense in this world.” She reminds him. “It… It could happen.”

“Mhm…” He says quietly, appearing to be brooding in his own thoughts now.

“…Muerte…?” She begins, then falls silent again.

“Yes?” He asks her softly, still idly rubbing her stomach.

She falters. “…If you ever did, w-would… Would I be…?”

“Yes.” He tells her immediately, with no room for misinterpretation.

She blushes harder now, sliding her hand over his now. “…I’d do it, you know. I’d have your babies, Muerte.” She tells him in a fragile voice.

His silence makes her nervous, but the truth was, he was genuinely stunned by her words and simply couldn’t think of anything to say in response. “…It’s probably not possible.” He repeats now, as if telling himself that rather than her. “It’s really rather ridiculous as an idea, to be honest with you.”

“Muerte, now you’re the one being insecure.” She chides him lightly, glancing up in his direction again as she rubs his hand in an attempt to reassure him. “You don’t know what could happen; you’ve never been intimate with anyone before this, right?”

He’s quiet for a moment, pondering her words. “…That’s true.” He concedes awkwardly. “Still…”

“Then how can you know it’s not possible?” She presses. “At the very least, I-I… If you ever want to, that is, w-we… We could try.”

“The thought of it doesn’t freak you out?” He asks her, genuinely curious but nevertheless pleased by her words.

She shakes her head, her eyes closed in content. “Just the opposite.” She tells him. “I’d… I’d always wanted to be a mother.”

This simple admission stokes lust inside of him again, and the very thought of her pregnant and full with his brood sends a fresh rush of seed pooling inside of her at his excitement. Drunk with love for her, he can’t control the dopey smile starting to creep across his lips now.

“Well…” He trails off with another sigh, stroking his hand down her hair and tangling it gently in her silver tresses. Her words seem to fill him with some kind of resolve and determination he can’t suppress. It was foolish and completely impractical for him to want this, but, looking down at her and imagining it in his mind’s eye, the way she’d adore and fawn over their children and love them so unconditionally, likely discovering a new appreciation for life that she didn’t have before… It fills him with such unabashed and untrammeled joy that he can’t stop himself from smiling at the thought. To create life with her… It would be the happily-ever-after he’d always wished he was capable of having. For now, he wouldn’t let himself consider the inanity of the idea, just the potential of it, a dream he didn’t even know he’d had until he’d met her but now wanted so fiercely that he almost couldn’t stand it. “…Maybe, pequena…” He breathes.

“…Maybe someday you will be.”

#puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots death #death x oc

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