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stayimpact · 1 year

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Omegaverse - Chapter 4

Pairing : OT8 x Reader

Genre : Omegaverse

Warnings: Angst, Felix is really jealous, smut, minor dni

Word count: ~2,8k

When you regained consciousness, everything was blurry and confused. You were lying in a hospital bed with an IV attached to your arm. Your whole body felt sore as if you had been beaten. You tried to move but you were too weak. Indistinct sounds reached your ears, but you couldn't understand them and they hurt, your senses were still very sensitive.

Then a nurse came into the room. She smiled when she saw you awake and went over to you to check your vital signs. You tried to speak, but your voice was weak and hoarse. She handed you a glass of water that you drank eagerly.

"How do you feel?" she asked in a soft voice, almost whispering as if she knew which state I was in.

You nodded your head to say you didn't know. You were so sore all over that you couldn't tell what was normal and what wasn't. "You were unconscious for a few hours," she said.

"You have been unconscious for several days. Your body has undergone major changes," she began, you didn't understand what she was getting at and she must have understood your confusion and gave you a sympathetic look before continuing, "You are now an Omega, and we must take precautions to keep the Alphas away from you," the nurse explained.

You didn't understand what she meant, but you had a strange feeling. Your skin seemed more sensitive and soft. You felt as if your whole body had been reset, that you had become a new person.

"Why did I become an Omega...?" you asked, becoming more and more worried. "But how can that be? I mean, I was a Beta a few days ago and now you're telling me I'm an Omega?!" you pounded your fist on the bed in frustration "What am I going to do?! I have to work, earn a living in order to live! I don't want to be an Omega!!!" you cried and screamed.

The nurse hesitated, "I'm sorry ma'am... We don't really know even with the tests we gave you when you were unconscious..." she said, bowing her head, probably feeling useless and desperate not to be able to give you, her patient who was obviously in shock, any answers.

You had always been a Beta, independent and living a comfortable life that you enjoyed. Now that you were an Omega, submissive and vulnerable. A prey to the Alphas. You didn't know how you were going to cope with this new reality that had completely turned your life upside down, sweeping it away.

The nurse decided to leave the room to give you a few moments alone to gather your thoughts and reflect on the situation and returned a few minutes later with a tray of food. You were hungry and ate greedily. The food tasted strange, sweeter, and saltier than usual. You found it hard to identify the flavors.

You spent several days in the hospital, confined to a special ward for Omegas. Alphas were not allowed in, as their smell could disturb you and put you in danger. The nurses took great care of you. They wore masks to mask their smell and gloves to avoid direct contact, and a complete disinfection was done each time they entered and left the room.

Guests were not welcome inside, they could communicate with you through a secure glass window by texting or writing, microphones were removed from the room as a precaution, and an Alpha could probably endanger your life with just his voice.

You realized that your body had changed significantly. Your skin was softer and more sensitive, your hair was shinier, and you had gained a few pounds. You also noticed that you had a strong urge to reproduce, to find an Alpha to protect and cherish you.

It was a strange feeling that came over you as if someone was trying to manipulate you to their will. You didn't like it, maybe it was due to your change of sub-genre, but you still had the mind of a Beta, and it was fighting a power struggle with your new Omega side.

You had been isolated from everyone in this white room for several days, and after the doctors checked on the progress of your physical changes several times a day, they decided to explain to you what life was like as an Omega.

You learned that you were part of this 5% of the world's population, a very low number which surprised you because you thought that Omegas were at least 20% of the population. The doctors looked sadly at your remark, which you did not understand.

"In the last 30 years the number of Omegas has dropped drastically, for no reason at all," the gynecologist began, examining you, "On the contrary, the number of Alphas has increased by about 9%. The problem is that an Alpha can only breed with an Omega as you must already know." you nodded in confirmation "Being a species that has become... rare." he coughed to clear his throat "You Omegas have become a source of desire for them. A kind of trophy, a possession that drives them crazy and they fight to have you and keep you," the gynecologist explained as he finished his examination.

So your worries proved to be true. You had really become the prey in the cat-and-mouse game. But maybe it was the Omega in you that was controlling you, but the fight the day you fell unconscious with Felix didn't make you feel as uncomfortable as before. You even began to understand his reaction and it made you happy that he cared so much about you.

The next few days were quiet, but your transformation continued slowly but surely. His doctors had explained to you that you would soon go into heat, a very difficult time for Omegas when their bodies were in need of mating. They had also explained that Alphas would be even more attracted to you during this period and that you would have to be very careful.

You had a few options. You could either go into your first heat alone, or you could have a low-level Alpha look after you during this period. Unfortunately, the low-level Alphas were older people, as the pheromone level decreases with age.

The second solution made you want to vomit so you accepted the first. You wanted Felix to be there with you so much more than a stranger at your grandfather's age. A small tear came to your eye, he still hadn't come to see you in the hospital because of your fight with him the week before.

A few days passed and you began to feel the effects of your first-ever heat, the sensations were the same as at the presentation, your whole body was burning with desire and excitement.

You felt restless, and anxious and had abdominal pains. You felt a growing tension inside you, an irrepressible urge to feel the presence of an Alpha close to you, inside you. It scared you, but at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about it. You needed their smell, their presence, their physical contact, you wanted to intoxicate yourself with it and stay there for the rest of your life.

You had heard that the heat lasts about a week and that it is very difficult for the Omegas to bear. You understood that you had to stay away from the Alphas during this critical period and that it was dangerous to leave the hospital before your heat had completely passed.

You had made a nest with the blankets of your hospital bed, a seemingly natural reflex for Omegas, in order to seduce an Alpha and mate to give birth to pups.

Despite the risks, you felt like your head would explode if you didn't find an Alpha soon. You had tried to distract yourself by reading books and watching movies, but nothing could calm your burning desire so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The nurses had kindly brought you some sex toys to help with your heat after you refused to see an Alpha and you intended to use them. You stepped out of the nest you had created to close the curtain of the secured glass so that no one could see you and returned to the nest before removing your stockings.

You ran your hand between your folds with a moan, very sensitive to the touch. You rubbed your clit with one hand and massaged one of your breasts with the other, sometimes pinching your nipple which made you squeal.

You were soaking wet before you even started and you gently inserted one of your fingers, moving back and forth a few times before inserting another. Desire burned in your veins but it wasn't enough to satisfy you. You felt like you were going to go crazy.

It wasn't enough, you needed something else, something bigger and thicker. So you took off your top and threw it on the floor before grabbing a sex toy. It was shaped like a penis and reminded you of Felix's sex. You salivated at the sight of it and began to suck on the tip to lubricate it as you continued to push your fingers inside you, making you moan louder and louder.

You took more of the sex toy into your mouth, even choking slightly as you made a deep throat. You withdrew your fingers and the sex toy from you before getting down on all fours, your breasts resting on the mattress, and inserting the fake penis into yourself as if it were Felix penetrating you.

You let out a sigh of pleasure and closed your eyes, imagining that it was him pounding into you incessantly. You imagined he was grabbing your hips as he slammed his pelvis against yours on the floor, burying his sex deep inside you.

Your free hand grabbed the sheets, and you held them tight. Almost tearing them with your strength. You squealed loudly, powerfully. You imagined he suddenly grabbed your hair and kissed you, pushing his tongue in and wrapping it around yours.

A knot began to form in your stomach, and you moved back and forth more quickly with the sex toy. Your mind was foggy and you could hardly tell the difference between your fantasy and reality.

Your juices flowed down your thighs and you picked up a fast pace, tilting the sex toy so that it brushed your sweet spot with each stroke which made you scream as you drooled on the sheets, tears welling up in your eyes as it felt so good. The knot got tighter and tighter, and you felt you were about to cum.

You used your other hand to retrieve some of your juices to use to rub your clit quickly, your orgasm hit you almost instantly and the wave of heat invaded your whole body and you let out a long high pitched moan. You used the sex toy to prolong your orgasm, and gradually you came down from your height. Slowly coming to your senses.

Your heart was pounding, you had sweated profusely and you clearly needed a shower. You pulled the sex toy out with a wince, covered in your juices. You absolutely had to clean this up before the nurses came back.

A feeling of dehydration then set in, and you reached for your bottle to hydrate yourself. You emptied most of the contents before putting it down. And you lay down in your nest, falling asleep instantly.

However, you didn't know that there were several witnesses who heard everything from behind the glass. Felix felt he was going to go crazy when he heard you moaning earlier, a huge erection could be seen through his pants. So did Minho and Han, who had decided to visit you to check on you.

They used their hands to hide the tent in their pants and walked away from Felix who was glaring at them angrily "She's mine!!!" he muttered with a growl before walking to the door to enter the room to join you.

He was quickly stopped by the doctors and nurses but so caught up in his pheromones and your moans from earlier, he punched one of the doctors in the jaw to let him through. So that he could finally be at your side, taking care of you.

He fought hard, using his Taekwondo techniques to fend off the nurses and doctors. However, they were too many for him and he was quickly overpowered, a pain shot through his arm and he saw a syringe attached to it, a nurse had injected him with a sedative and he screamed in rage before passing out from the drug.

You had no idea of the turmoil that was going on behind the door of your hospital room, you were sleeping peacefully with your earlier activity that had completely exhausted you. Several days passed and you repeated your activities in the hope that it would stop. After 5 days it was finally over.

You stayed a few more days for observation, to make sure that your body had finally finished its transition and that your health was not affected. You were finally able to welcome visitors, provided that they took suppressants to avoid triggering a second heat.

Felix paid you a visit, he cried with joy when he saw you and threw himself into your arms. You stroked his hair as you cooed, letting him calm down. "I missed you Y/N!" he said as he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to calm himself.

You wrapped your hand around his cheek and kissed him gently in the hope of calming him down "I'm here... I'm here..." you cooed. You held back a small laugh, it was more his job to reassure you at this moment.

He calmed down after a moment and looked at you with red eyes. "Y/N I..." he began, stammering, his gaze avoiding yours. You waited patiently, a feeling of anxiety rising in your throat. "I'm so sorry, for the last time..." he said, wiping away a tear. "I was horrible to you on the day of the presentation. And...and I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me the most," he continues, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

You smile slightly, tears welling up in your eyes as well, his pheromones giving off sadness and you knew he meant it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't any help. I'm sorry I left you alone all that time without coming to see you. I was a jerk and I feel so bad about it," he said, his gaze still avoiding yours. You didn't answer, knowing he still wanted to say something else. "Even though your sub-genre has changed now, you are and always will be Y/N to me. I love you and will always love you," he finished with his lips quivering.

You didn't answer immediately and that made him sadder. "I'm sorry, you probably need time to think," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door, sniffing.

"Felix." you say simply, he stopped but didn't turn to you, clearly afraid to face you. "My Lixie," you say again, in a soft voice.

This time he turned to you. "Come back and sit down, Lixie, please," you ordered in the same tone, and he obeyed, returning to the chair near the bed, where he had been a few moments before.

You smile fondly as you look into his eyes and place your hand on his cheek. "You don't have to apologize, Lixie. You're here now and that's all that matters to me. You're still the one I love and will always love, no matter if you're an Alpha or an Omega," you said sincerely, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

He looked into your eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but this time with a smile of relief.

"I was actually afraid, afraid that my becoming an Omega would disgust you," you said and Felix looked at you wide-eyed from his chair, he was about to say something but you interrupted him, "But seeing you crying for me right now makes me realize that I was wrong to doubt you. »

He took your hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm so relieved to hear that. I love you, Y/N." he said with conviction. You smiled again and moved closer to him to kiss him gently on the lips. "I love you too, Lixie. And I'm so glad you're here with me now," you whisper against his lips.

He held you close, the tears had stopped flowing. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N. Always. Always," he said with determination. And you knew it was true. You had found each other, stronger and more in love than ever.

A/N: I did wrote smut again omg

Tag list: @mal-lunar-28

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existential-ashes · 1 year

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haven't vented on here in a while but ive been feeling so low and it's pissing me off

i KNOW it wasn't that big of a deal which is why i reacted the way i did to him and i KNOW he's probably gotten over it already and i KNOW in the end the reason he was mad had very little to do with me

but i feel like the world is ending and also i feel so silly for feeling like the world is ending and I hate that I can't seem to take my mind off of it or that I have to be fighting so hard against the urge to sabotage the relationship in the hopes of making myself feel better. he was being rude. but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that serious. but i don't like being talked to like that and i used to be much worse at reacting to negative energy. i didn't do anything to warrant that kind of response, and all things considered, i would have reacted much more explosively if i were younger. if there was one thing i could have done better, it would have been to just not engage once i figured out that he was in a mood. but i was more focused on standing up for someone who i think needs a break, so by the time I noticed, he'd already said several hurtful and barbed things to me that I've now just reread over and over and over and it became an echo chamber and now I'm convinced that he's right and I'm wrong and that everyone hates me.

and the thing is, the rational part of me KNOWS that it's not real and that it's all in my head, but I only get a few minutes' reprieve before i jump back in to analyzing shit and feeling upset. I've tried doing other things to take my mind off it, but I either can't concentrate or the distraction only works until I'm done with whatever project I've started. And then I'm back to spiraling over something that shouldn't matter as much in the first place because WHO CARES like he was right, it has nothing to do with me. So why does everything suck?

I really hate this part of me that just can't let things go. It's really not for lack of trying. I feel like i must be one of those people with a giant and fragile ego or whatever. idk. i shouldn't be thinking about how rude someone was for two days straight. i should be able to get over this. but I can't and it's so fucking frustrating.

anyways, everything sucks and i wish my friends would stand up for me instead of letting me face an asshole on my own and i wish i would GROW THE FUCK UP and stop acting like a teenager. and i wish i could keep myself from sticking my nose in things lmfao but i can't seem to keep myself from stirring the pot when I think someone is being insensitive.

#personal #i literally had to stop myself from leaving the gc #but the fucking audacity lmfao who the fuck does he think he is to talk to me like that #and try to make it seem like I'm not allowed to fucking speak #on a public forum!#full of MY high school friends!!!#fuck you and fuck off with that shit #i don't stay friends with toxic shitheads

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carnivigorous · 4 years

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OOC.

#{ ✄ } ▌» out of celery. « ooc.#ive been trying to fight this urge but it must be done #i HAVE to draw sedel as as close to the Hazbin Hotel style as I can possibly manage #he.... fits the aesthetic so much #it physically pains me kjdsklfaaaaaadfs #i think the biggest challenge is gonna be not making him look like... pink..... alastor. fri c k

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koitrash · 2 years

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Better than her

This has got to be one of the hardest but my favorite fics ive ever wrote. I was LOST this was started like a week ago. I really like how it turned out! I hope you guys enjoy it! :))

(gif mod creds to angel-gbc on youtube) wtf why do it look so blurry now :(

You and Ellie have been hooking up for a while and you wanted to see if she'd get jealous since you guys aren't exclusive. Needless to say it gets a little out of hand and a special holiday might be able to put a bandaid on it.

Pairing: Ellie x Fem reader

warning: MDNI!! Angst, Jealousy, NSFW, Fluff, fingering, fem oral (giving and receiving), tribbing, choking, lingerie, overstimulation sorta??

Word count: 5.5k

Ellie watched your hand graze over your ex’s bare arm for a second too long. She wouldn't say she was jealous, no- She couldn't be jealous when you guys aren't even dating. That's stupid. Ellie knew better than to confront you over a measly little touch knowing you guys weren't official. But she presumed you two were at least exclusive. The thought of you still hooking up with other girls made her face scrunch as she tried to wipe the image from her head.

You and Ellie had been running some materials to the butchers shop when you came across your ex, who you just learned was now working there. You guys didn't have a bad break up. You didn’t harbor any ill feelings for her but you certainly weren't looking to get back together. You knew your ex could be clingy, letting her hands linger on you a little too long. But you also wanted to know if Ellie would get at least a little bit jealous. You glanced back to her leaning on the door frame, a scowl planted on her face with a jaw cocked to the side. Fuck yes. You bit the inside of your lip to keep a smile down, threatening to show. Waving your goodbyes, you walked over to Ellie, who perked up to follow. Her hand slid across your wrist, moving to interlock your fingers, when you pulled back, bending down to tie your shoe.

Ellie’s eyebrow furrowed at the denial to the PDA in front of your ex. She eyed you, slightly annoyed, as you rose and continued to walk like she didn't just try to hold hands.

“We have to give Maxine that medicine before-” You twirled around to see Ellie still standing outside of the shop, eyebrows pushed together. “What's wrong?” You asked innocently, you knew exactly what was wrong. Ellie fiddled with her fingers as she glanced around awkwardly and you couldn't help the small twinge of guilt in your stomach. “Nothing.” She mumbled now walking to catch up with you. You tried to fight the urge to apologize and hold her hand, telling her you were just messing around. Say you really didn't want to get back with your ex and just make her jealous. But the show must go on, you were fully committed, waiting till you were far enough from the shop to grab her hand and brush against her shoulder the way you wanted to before. She stiffened at the touch and for a second you almost cracked.

The second time Ellie felt that familiar hold of jealousy was when she heard you talking about sex with your ex. You talked ecstatically, waving your hands as you told her dramatically about shit she really didn't want to know. You guys were playing video games together, your legs draped over hers as you both laid in her bed.

“Oh wow.” Ellie said unenthusiastically.

“Yeah but you've done better honestly.” You shrugged.

“Sure doesn't sound like it.” She aggressively smashed buttons on her controller, making her character roundhouse kick yours.

“No, I'm serious! You're like, way better.”

“Okay then, stop talking about your stupid fuckin’ ex.” She grumbled, scowl on her face as she continued to jerk the controller like it was giving her some upper hand at the game.

You couldn't help the smirk that rose on your lips watching her pout like a little kid who can't get what they want. “Well I mean she was really sweet. Super thoughtful girlfriend.” You continued.

“Mhm.”

“One time she brought me to this spot in the-”

“I. Dont. Care.” She jammed her thumb into the buttons in between every word and this time you couldn't stop the laugh that erupted from you. “Are you serious right now? Ellie, come on, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just don't want to hear you talk about someone that's an ex for a reason like she was amazing to you.”

“Oh come on-” You rolled your eyes.

“No seriously! Who was the one you came crawling back to everytime you guys fought to cry on their shoulder? The one who had to listen to you bitch and moan about her working overtime? Who was the one who had to watch this girl snatch the Y/n I know just to toss you out like some stale piece of bread? Me. So no, Y/n, I don't want to hear you talk about her, let alone sex with her. I don't want to see you touch her. I don't want to feel you snatch your hand away from me in front of her.” She huffed and you could only stare at her, wide eyed at the sudden outburst. This was finally time to shine.

“Why are you acting so jealous, it's not like you're my girlfriend. I can hook up with whoever I want.” The words left your mouth and you felt instant regret. It was a mean thing to say whether you meant it or not. This teasing thing was going too far and Ellies hurt expression proved it. But you had no way of cleaning this mess you made. She looked down at the controller, tapping it lightly as she jerked her jaw, fixing herself for what she wanted to say next but you didn't want to hear it. “I didn't mean it like-”

“You're right. Sorry. ” She didn't look at you. The air was thick and heavy as she continued to play the game. “Let's finish this round, You have to get up early tomorrow right?” She forced a small smile glancing over at you. Her eyebrows pushed together slightly, eyes screaming how she was hurt, offended, bruised by your words.

The rest of the night was stiff. She didn't walk you home like she normally does. She didn't give you a kiss goodnight. She didn't playfully banter with you. The game finished quickly, silence hanging painfully in the air and all you could think about was how much your stomach hurt, filled with guilt.

The third time Ellie felt that dull twitch of jealousy that made her nose turn and her head spin was months later.

You and Ellie just resumed life as normal, not bringing the ex up again. But it was never really the same. Everytime something about a couple would come up things got awkward. Small touches left. The sweet little kisses stopped. You guys haven't hooked up since. Which was telling because one: Ellie loved to kiss you and two: You guys had amazing sex. Fact. But you had an idea, an amazing idea you know would get Ellie back. Lingerie.

There was really no guarantee it would work. No real way of making sure you could get touchy enough to actually show it. But Joel told you there was this holiday back in the old world where couples celebrated being together, spent the whole day loving each other and it sounded perfect. You found this skimpy red underwear set on patrol with Jesse one day, thank god he didn't catch you stuffing it in your bag. The bra was a snug fit, making your boobs overflow slightly but you were just grateful it actually fit. You, Dina, and Jesse were supposed to be having movie night at Ellie's place tonight which proposed the perfect setting.

You anxiously picked at your fingers, a trait you unconsciously picked up from your brown haired best friend, while the movie finally came to an end. Everyone talked about the stupid ending while all you could do was watch Ellie. Her eyebrows pinched as her eyes roamed the room, thinking of a way to explain the plot twist of the final act. You adored the freckles that danced along her cheeks along with the beauty mark placed perfectly under her eye. She wore a gray t-shirt accompanied with her infamous jeans which made you think about trying to find her a new pair since those were so worn down. Not that she'd take it, you knew she had some special attachment to those old jeans.

The conversation eventually came to an end, in which you only contributed a mere ‘right’ or an absent head nod. Jesse finally stood, reaching out for Dina’s hand as she grabbed the last bit of popcorn, stuffing all she could fit in her mouth. Ellie laughed, watching her screwed face painfully chew a mouth way too full. They waved as they left hand in hand and you didn't miss Jesse sending a wink to you before he disappeared behind a door.

“So what made you want to sleepover tonight?” Ellie turned to you, soft music from the credits rolling in the background.

You shrugged, “Haven't been sleeping well lately, I had a nightmare.” You cooed, earning yourself a laugh from Ellie.

“Mhm, right.”

“I'm serious! I had a nightmare, a giant shambler was chasing me! Is it so bad that I want to snuggle up with my favorite person after a nice movie with friends?” You draped yourself on her dramatically, giggling wildly. She laughed as she pushed you off and you fell to the soft mattress like you'd just gotten shot. “Oh Ellie, why do you forsaken my love!”

“What do you want?” She giggled as she waited for you to reveal your obvious ulterior motives.

“Nothing… I just miss you, that's all.” You said after you got your laughter under control.

This time Ellie shrugged, chin tilting down as she fiddled with her fingers. “I guess we've both been pretty busy.” Which was true. You noticed it after she blew up on you months ago. She'd taken more shifts for patrol, almost avoiding you for at least 2 weeks. You guys only got to hang out if you were on duty together or the couple of times you came over to play video games after a stressful patrol.

“Please,” You scoffed. “I'd be surprised if every runner in a 100 mile radius didn't know your name the way you've been on patrol. What are you blowing off steam or something?” You half joked, leaning back on your elbows.

“Well yeah I stopped doing my favorite pastime.”

“And what's that?”

“I think you know what it was.” She nudged your thigh, hand lingering around for a second too long.

“I think you're going to have to tell me.” You eyed her, voice dipping low. She stared back at you for a moment, eyes traveling over your features, before she leaned closer.

“What are you doing Y/n?” Her gaze flicked to your lips and your heart almost leaped out your chest, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Well I had a surprise for you but you're killing the mood.”

“And what's the surprise?” Her hand danced on your thigh, fingers grazing lightly over the seam of your jeans.

“You're gonna have to find it.” You whispered, just inches away from her face now.

Ellie leaned in, closing the short distance. It was like fireworks every time you guys kissed. You loved the way she kissed you. You practically melted when her lips touched yours. She liked to kiss you slowly, like if she did it too fast she couldn't savor your taste. You heard her suck on a breath as you guys collided, melting into your hand cupping her jaw. The kiss was passionate and heated. She pulled away to look at you for a second, taking it all in. It was your favorite part, the way she looked at you in steamy moments like this.

“God, I missed your lips.” She whispered, and you wanted to consume every part of this girl. It was like every word that fell from her mouth gave you an ecstasy high. You dipped back in, open mouthed ready to let your tongue explore her mouth, drawing a soft moan from her. She pulled away again but this time to readjust herself between your legs, which you happily let her. Her hands snaked up your stomach, making your back arch into her touch.

“You're getting hot.” You sighed against her mouth, before she pulled away to look at you confused by your statement. You wanted to laugh until her hands slipped from under your shirt. “Ah- now you're cold.” A pout playing on your lips. Her mouth dropped slightly for a second, mind trying to puzzle together what you were mumbling on about. Her hand moved to hover over your stomach as she watched you, hoping she was making the right move.

“Warm.” The corners of her lips lifted as she listened to your confirmation. Her hand dipped under again, warm fingers gliding up your sides. “H-hot” Your body shivered at the touch. She only hummed a bit before moving her hands up more, hand cupping your breast. “You're on fire.” You whispered as she eyed you, slightly in shock.

“That's it? Your boob? That's not a surprise, babe.” Her face scrunched, looking disappointed. “I mean don't get me wrong I love it everytime-” You only pretended to look offended before lifting your shirt to reveal a lacey see through bralette, covered in cute little hearts and skimpy straps with a little bow tied to it. Ellies eyebrows shot up as her mouth hung open, you couldn't help the giggle that left your lips.

“Where the hell did you get this?” She gawked.

“Wait till you see the bottoms.” You moved to push your jeans off, eager to show the whole set. It looked amazing on you honestly. Ellie scoffed in disbelief as soon as she saw the red lace wrapped around your hips, a small bow tied to the top of each side.

“Where-” She started before you cut her off.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” You smirked under her. “What are you worried my ex gave to me?”

“No, I dont give a shit about your stupid ex.” She scoffed, obviously offended.

“Mmm, don't act like you weren't jealous when I touched or talked about her. Come on Ellie, I know you better than that.” You teased, wiggling under her gaze a bit. “So what would you do if I told you she fucked me in this?” Although it wasn't true you loved to see Ellie at a loss for words. To your surprise her hand lifted to graze your stomach and you arched into her touch a little too eagerly. She leaned down to your lips, “Then I’ll fuck you so good you’ll never mutter her stupid fuckin’ name again.”

“So do it.” You breath danced across her mouth before she closed the short distance. You hummed as her hands roamed down to your thighs, moving them to wrap around her waist. Your lips parted as her tongue started to explore your mouth, drawing a low moan from her lips. Her head tilted to deepen the kiss, your hands running over her toned biceps. You adored how your fingers glided across the smooth ridges of her muscles. A finger curved underneath your waistband, pulling it lightly before gliding over to your stomach. Ellie pulled back from the heated kiss. “I want you to sit on my face.” Her chest rose as she watched you, eager for your answer.

“What?” You laughed a little but her face stayed the same, signaling she was dead serious. “Are you serious? No, what if I break your neck or something?”

She only shrugged nonchalantly in response. “ Break it.” Her lips tugged into a smile, earning herself a scoff from you.

“Y/n I'm joking, you're not going to break my neck. Come on, I can take it.” Ellie dove back into your neck, placing kisses down to your collarbone. It distracted you more than you'd care to admit when she got to your breast, slightly spilling out the snug bralette, sucking at the soft skin. Her eyes looked back up at you, before she sent you the classic puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

With her body pressing against you, hands roaming all over your body and lips sucking at your skin so gently, you caved. “Fine” You breathed out, finding it hard to catch your breath as she continued to trail down your body. She smiled in response before you rolled off her lap, letting her lay down by the pillows. A smug grin stayed while she held her hand out, gesturing for you to come over, while mumbling a quick ‘Come on’. Doing as you were asked, you crawled over, sending one last worried look down to her as you straddled her chest, too nervous to commit.

“It's okay Y/n. We don't have to do it if you don't want to, but I promise I'll be okay if we do.” Her hand rested on your waist, thumb stroking the soft skin. You thought back to all the other times you guys had sex. Ellie was pretty skilled with her fingers and mouth, so much that you didn't trust yourself to not put all your weight on her. “I would be more than okay if you did, actually.” She pulled a face, lips frowning as her brows lifted and you couldn't help the chuckle that left your mouth. You sighed and inched up to her neck, grabbing hold of the headboard to help keep yourself steady as she gripped your thighs like she was about to eat for the first time in years.

“Well you look ready.” You chuckled breathlessly above her before she glanced up at you, eyes roaming over every curve of your beautiful body, covered in pretty red lace that she absolutely adored. “Can you blame me?” She smiled before guiding your hips down to her, heated breath tickling you. A gasp left your lips as she pressed her lips to you through your thin underwear and you had to fight yourself not to push your legs closed on contact. She cooed a low groan, sending vibrations up your spine as she licked at your heat, thin fabric holding pleasure above your head. You didn't know why you didn't slide it off earlier, probably because you felt so cute in the skimpy little two piece. Ellie pulled it to the side before you could complain and you felt yourself melt into her mouth as she pressed her lips to you fully, no stupid fabric cockblocking.

A shaky moan escaped your mouth as Ellie worked her tongue diligently, sucking at your clit. You felt her hands lift you slightly so she can gather more air. “Fuck, you're so wet.” She hummed before diving back in, keeping you up enough to let a hand snake around to your entrance. Your hips buckled as you gripped the headboard, a sweet moan catching in your throat as she moved back, letting her fingers enter you. Wet sounds filled the room as you tried to contain yourself, pure bliss pulsing through your body. You cooed out her name as she hummed again, watching you unravel as she thrusted another finger into you. “I love it when you moan my name, it sounds so pretty on your lips.” and your hips jerked again, the coil in your stomach pulling back.

Her fingers slowed as her mouth connected with your clit again. She shook her head while sucking and your head flew back, a high pitched moan running out your mouth. “That feels so good, Ellie dont stop,” You gasped, words flying out as soon as you caught your breath enough to. And it did feel good, like really good. So good that you wanted to fold her up and keep her stashed in your pocket, to have only to yourself. She moaned against you, eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed as she savored your taste, your moans, your skin, the way her name fell from your lips, she took it all in. Meanwhile the coil in your gut pulled tighter and tighter, threatening to release soon. “Right there,” You moaned and your hand hurt with how tight you were grasping the headboard.

Her tongue ran up you, slightly curving into your entrance before circling around your clit, mouth closing in to suck once more before you were unraveling into her. Climax washing over your body as you trembled, toes curling, and thighs closing. Ellies hands continued to brush over your hips as you rode the orgasm, eyes watching you closely, like she could paint this moment. You scooted back to settle on her hips while trying to desperately catch your breath. Your hands pushed the hair off her forehead, smiling down at her admiringly as she wiped her wet chin.

“You're so cute when you're jealous.” Thumb swiping over her cheekbone. Her mouth opened for a second, looking almost winded by your beauty, while she blinked a couple of times.

“I have a surprise too.” She finally spoke up and you bit down a smile, confirming you had this girl wrapped around your finger.

“Lemme guess, I have to find it?”

The ends of her lips lifted, fingers still dancing on your thighs. “No,” She laughed. “You're just weird. It's in my bag.” And that was your cue to roll off her lap again.

Ellie made her way over to her table, bag laying to the side and you admired her pretty frame, the way she walked, the freckles littered all over her shoulders, or the way her hair was always pushed back, exposing her slender neck. She whipped around faster than expected, drawing you out of your trance, with her hands hiding something behind her back.

“Okay so Joel told me about this holiday, Valentine's day, it's uhh-” She stuttered a bit, making her way over to you, still sitting on the edge of her bed. You mentally noted how Joel made sure to tell you both about this little holiday. “It's when you show people love- like-”

“I know what Valentine's day is. Joel told me too.” You cut her off and she visibly relaxed. “Why do you think I'm wearing this you dork.” She blinked at you for a second before twisting her arm around to reveal the big surprise.

A red and pink little teddy bear holding a rose, with hearts scattered all over, laid in her hands as you blinked, feeling your face heat up 100 degrees. Your heart soared at the gesture, there was no way she got you a stuffed animal.

“Do you like it?” She asked sheepishly and you only blinked at her again. Who wouldn't like it?! “It's stupid, I just found it on patrol- and I thought maybe-” Her hands dropped as her shoulders tensed again.

“No!” Your hands came up defensively before you jumped up to wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love it, Ellie. Thank you babe.” Her warm arms hugged around your bare waist as she melted in your hold. You only kinda geeked out about the recent use of pet names.

“It feels good to hug you again.” Ellie sighed into your neck, basking in your scent, placing a short kiss there. You laughed a bit.

“I'm not the one who took a thousand patrol shifts.” you leaned to the side to look at her face, which looked slightly sad she lost contact with your neck.

“I know, I know, give me shit about it later.” She pushed back in, kissing the side of your mouth until you fully turned to her. You honestly felt intoxicated by Ellies lips, or her touch, or her scent, or maybe her skin, her freckles were really nice too, and her pretty green eyes, and her voice drove you crazy.

“I want to go down on you.” The words left your mouth before the thought even popped in your head. Ellie’s brows furrowed for a second before the corner of her lips pulled up. “Okay” she breathed out, barely over a whisper. You moved her to sit at the edge of the bed and she unzipped her jeans, keeping your lips connected to hers. Only pulling back to slide her pants off before you were kissing at her neck. You loved the sigh that left her lips as you trailed down her chest, honestly Ellie’s moans were your favorite. Her breathing gets heavier as a hand cupped your head, pulling little strands of hair. You let your hand roam over her waist, trailing down to her hip to trace light circles. You were at her belly button when you stopped to look back up at her.

“Show me how much you missed me.” Your fingers dipped under her waist band, placing kisses as you slid them down her thighs. She leaned back, watching you spread apart her thighs, eyes heavy and face flushed. You could stare at her forever honestly. Your fingers grazed over her slit, earning yourself a hip jerk as her hand tightened in your hair. “Look who's wet now.” You pinched your fingers together, locking eye contact with her as you started to kiss her heat. Her brows lifted as her lips parted, letting a soft shaky moan out. Your tongue licked at her before cupping your mouth around her clit, sucking it sweetly. Her moans became louder, fingers now scraping your scalp with how hard she gripped. You felt her thighs close around your head and you hummed in appreciation, letting your hands dig into the skin on her hip. Pulling back you looked up at her to see her also looking down at you, chest rising quickly to catch her breath between moans. You snuck a finger to her entrance, circling lightly as you placed kisses on her lower stomach. Ellie mumbled a quick, low ‘fuck’ before you dipped a finger in. She pulled in a breath, sighing out a shaky moan.

“Does that feel good?” You hummed, only getting another moan in response as you started thrusting into her. You waited for another second as her hips jerked into you, still no response. Eying her you pulled your fingers out. “Come on babe, use your words.” You grinned as her head snapped to you, looking shocked and slightly annoyed you left her empty. Teasing Ellie was probably your favorite pastime. Her hand slid from your nape to your chin as she cupped your jaw, eyeing you lovingly. “It feels so good baby,” And just like that your fingers rammed into her again and you watched her head fly back as her back arched into your hand. You curled your fingers into a ‘C’ desperate to get to her sweet spot, walls tightening around you. A moan caught in her throat as her hips grinded into your fingers. “D-Dont stop, Y/n.” She gasped out and it lit a fire inside you. You leaned back down, tearing yourself from the erotic face Ellie wore, to lick at her clit again. She panted as high pitch moans left her mouth. This combined with the wet sounds you guys made together was absolute ecstasy to your ears, feeling almost intoxicated by it. Ellie mewed a long line of ‘fuckdontstop-right there,’ while fisting your hair. You shook your head vigorously around her clit, still pressing into her sweet spot with your other hand. Her moans were loud now, hands grabbing anywhere they could before she climaxed. She groaned as her thighs closed around you, hips jerking into your mouth, you continued to suck as she shook.

“Ah- fuck- I c-cant,” Ellie cried through moans as you continued to fuck her well past her orgasm. Your wrist burned and jaw hurt but that didn't matter, the sounds she made was like medicine to your pain. Her moans and gasps were frantic now and you knew another orgasm was coming. You picked up the pace, heart pounding out of your chest, “Come on El, cum for me one more time.” You lifted yourself from her clit to watch her finish. Her hips jerked into your fingers as her jaw dropped, brows lifting, eyes only slightly open, delicious moans falling from her lips. You slipped your fingers out, dragging them up her inner walls, earning yourself a short gasp with another hip buckle as you smirked down at her. She laid for a second, chest rising quickly as she tried to catch her breath.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” Ellie sighed out before you bent down to kiss her again.

Her hand pushed your shoulder, indicating you should probably sit on the bed as well. “I missed you too, Williams.” You whispered against her sweet lips.

“I wanna try something.” She muttered, not wanting to break the kiss again, but she moved quickly, pushing you down on the bed as she slid off your underwear. You watched her curiously as she pushed one of your legs up.

“Are you gonna eat me out? That's not new-” Her leg flew over your hip before you could continue and your eyes widened, realizing what she was about to do, excitement fluttering in your stomach. She smiled down at you before lowering herself to you, a gasp escaping your mouth at this new found pleasure. Ellie gripped at your leg as she started to grind against you, groaning at the wetness. You tried to jerk your hips the best you could in your position but Ellie was still doing most of the work. She moved around a bit, trying to find the right position so that both of you guys felt good before finally grinding into the perfect spot, drawing a loud gasp from your lips as she grabbed at your breast. Her breath was shaky as she picked up the pace, clit grinding into yours. It was an indescribable feeling, like you guys were completely connected not to mention it felt incredible. Your moans were erotic as Ellie mumbled something along the lines of ‘fuck you feel so good’ You couldnt quite get it from how hard you were breathing. You watched her through slitted eyes, as beautiful as ever, her eyebrows were pushed together as she concentrated, chest rising and falling quickly as her lips opened, drinking up as much air as her lungs could hold.

She slowed her hips, pressing into you intently sending pleasure shooting through your system. Your eyes rolled as your back arched and Ellie's hand grabbed at your neck, drawing your attention back. “Don't finish yet.” Was all she said as she panted down at you. Your hand met her wrist as she squeezed harder, moans now loud and erotic. You could have been high on some drug right now with the way she was making you feel. “Ellie-” You felt a climax creeping up.

“Not yet.” Her fingers curled into your skin as she thrusted her hips faster. “I cant-” You cried out.

“Come on my pretty girl, yes you can” She panted, barely being able to compose a full sentence. The use of praise made your head spin as your hip jerked into hers. “Fuck,” Ellie's moans started to become more erratic, telling you she was almost about to finish. The coil snapped and her hips trembled just as yours did. Loud, high pitched moans falling from her lips as pleasure overwhelmed you.

She fell on top of your chest, still heaving as you both tried to catch your breath, placing warm kisses to your collarbone. You glanced down at her, a soft smile playing on your lips as you caressed her cheek before guiding her face to yours. The kiss was short and sweet before she rolled off, settling beside you. You took this moment to place little kisses all over her face as she giggled, hand rubbing your waist. You pulled back to see her face, it was still flushed and her eyes were glazed over with passion but you admired it.

“I love you.” Fell from your lips and it was like you just poured cold water on her. Her eyebrows shot up as she stared at you wide eyed. It only scared you for a second, you were pretty confident she would say it back.

“I love you so much Y/n, you have no idea.” Ellie said, almost breathless.

“So what the fuck was that whole avoiding thing about?” you pushed her shoulder, making her hand slip from your waist. She only pushed it up in the air defensively.

“Yeah like you weren't talking about your ex constantly.” She half joked.

“I was trying to make you jealous! It was very obvious! I didn't even get this from her.” You gestured to the lingerie you wore. “I just said that because you took so long to ask me out.”

“Wha-” Ellie gawked, “Well it worked!” You only laughed in response and you felt her staring at your smile, turning back to her.

“I really did miss you El.” You smiled and she moved her hand to push back some hair from your face before moving to kiss you sweetly.

“I missed you too.”

AHHH HOW CUTE UGH I LOVE THIS SILLY LITTLE HOLIDAY I HOPE YOU GUYS HAVE A GOOD VALENTINES DAY <33333 we got a little bit of everything in this one huh it was a DOOZY to write but again the sex gods called me at 2 am

#ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfic #ellie williams smut

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

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devilsodas · 3 years

Text

night hawks iii

words: 2.1k

pairing: Hayakawa Aki x reader, Denji & reader

Also on: ao3

a/n: very, very, light spoilers for the bomb girl arc, if you haven't read it you probably wouldn’t even notice so it’s fine lol. anyways, I originally didn’t plan to do this for this chapter, (it was actually supposed to be just pure angst) but I thought this would be nice before I stomped on ur heart! next update might be for a while since school is coming to a close soon!

part ii | part iv

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if there is something in the town that the country can’t offer.

You don’t want to think too hard on that, either.

ii. blue shift

You’re perusing through the snack aisle, debating which awfully sugary and salty potato chip you’d force Aki to buy this time, when Denji ambles towards you.

“Town mouse or country mouse.”

You grab a boldly colored bag of chips--‘taste better with each bite!’ in a fluorescent lemon --and shake it twice. Too light for your liking, you grabbed two more. “What are you talking about?”

“D’you think the town mouse or country mouse is better?” Denji questions, studying your movements before shuffling the items in his palms into the basket hanging off your elbow. He looks at the row of chips, grabs two random bags, and shoves them in as well.

Brows scrunched in confusion, you halt in your movements. “Mmm..is that a new fad from some teen magazine? I never heard of that before.”

“Nah, it’s this guy named Asshop? Acehop? I dunno.” The syllables slur together when he says it, rushed, and you can hardly decipher the words. “But there’s these mice, one’s from the country, the other the town.”

“The country mouse is safe and all, but it has zero fun or good grub. The town mouse gets all the fun and grub, but it's always getting into trouble.”

“And you have to pick between the two?” You confirm. Denji nods, hands shoved in his pockets.

You tilt your head, “Lemme guess, you picked the town mouse?”

He grins. “Who wouldn’t want good food?”

Chuckling, You fight the urge to ruffle his blonde strands. From what Aki’s told you, Denji’s virtually been close to homeless for the past sixteen years of his life. No family but a dog he refers to from time to time.

Sometimes, when you’d come over for dinner, you’d see the way he eats; scarfing down every grain of rice and almost licking the plate clean, a man eating his last meal, that your whole body would ache, starting from your chest and spreading all over.

Everyone should have that at his age, right? Loving parents, no worries if you’ll have warm food on the table or a roof over your head ( but did you even have that? If you didn’t would you even know? How could you feel pity for the youth if you don’t know what youth looks like? )

You try not to think about it too often.

The options milled about in your head, like marbles in the palm of your hand.

“Being safe sounds great and all, but I’ve never been to the countryside before, so..” Denji nabs another bag and shows you for approval. Wasabi and Beef. You give a disgruntled face and he tosses it back with a huff.

“So the town mouse then?”

“I’d say yes, but that’d be a little biased. I’ve never been outside Tokyo.”

A groan sounds from behind you and, across the aisle, is Aki juggling ten different types of meat in his arms, his face matching the red of the marbled pork. Power is right behind him, shoving an unnecessarily large slab of wagyu beef into the cart with maniacal laughter.

( I’m saying this for the last. damn. time.-)

You should probably intervene before he grows homicidal.

“Why are you interested in this anyway?” You ask. Denji huffs, fidgeting with a red bag of shrimp chips (now with garlic and butter!) and haphazardly tosses it into the basket.

“There’s this girl,” He starts.

“Oooh, a girl..”You drawl.

He sputters.“I don’t like her or anything!”

Grinning, you bite your lip to hold back a laugh, “Never said you did.” You think he looks a little irritated, with his cheeks flushed a deep rose and a scowl framing his face, but the same mischievous smile stays on his lips.

“Anyways, she was the one who told me about it, I was wonderin’ what you would’ve said. We’re supposed to go to a festival tomorrow night.” He states lightly.

“Ah, if they have it, you should eat some takoyaki while you’re there. That always tastes the best from a festival stall.” You beam. “Be sure to have fun! Oh--and tell me about it once you get back.” For any devil hunter, it’s difficult to hold connections to those outside the business. You wonder how it must feel for Denji, sixteen and not knowing a single person his age who’s, well,

Normal.

The only times he goes out is for work or rare days like these when Aki (foolishly) thinks they’ll behave at the supermarket. Does Denji even know what’s normal for someone like him? Do you?

He gives you a thumbs up.

( in the corner of your eyes, you spot Power with at least fifty different types of cat food in her arms, marching to an oblivious Aki with a tyrannical smile on her lips.

it’s probably time to leave anyways..)

You sift through the basket hanging on your arm, double checking the junk food will last until the next time you decide to mooch off Aki’s credit card. A variety of bagged chips with different mascots thrown across the bags, pints of icecream and mochi, and at the very bottom, a magazine with...two naked women on the front. You snatch the offending book with a gasp, thrusting it into the blonde’s face.

“No way, you know for a fact he’s not gonna buy this. And if you hand him this at the counter, Aki will punch the crap out of you.”

Denji grabs both the basket and the magazine, rolling the book before slotting it under his arm. “ Not if you but it.”

“I’m not buying that.”

“Then I’ll just sneak it in.” He waves off. At the sound of shouting, you both run to deescalate whatever nonsense Power got herself into this time. The magazine and Aesop forgotten.

( Aki does notice the porno mag and he does hit Denji over the head with it...but he buys it anyway.)

“Town mouse or country mouse?”

He scowls at you through the mirror, muttering. “God, not you too.”

You swing your legs from where you reside on the kitchen counter, tapping your nails against the marble, anything to ease the nervous energy that makes your hand shake. Nyanko is slinking through your legs like a maze, begging for your pets every so often. You bring the cat into your arms, scratching the spot right behind her ears and she purrs, bingo. You raise a brow. “Did Denji already ask you?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments, busy as he loops his tie and knots it. Aki takes a moment to scrutinize its placement, then turns to face you. “Angel Devil.” He states, he says the name like it’s poison on his tongue.

“Oh yeah, how’s that working out for you?”

“He’s a hindrance.”

You stroll over to him until you’re both chest to chest and he stills. This close, you can feel his exhales drift the hairs at the top of your head and discern the specks of jade that’s always consumed by his seas of deep blue. He notices your stare, and swallows.

You take the tie into your hands and tilt it a little to the left. “You think everyone is a hindrance when you meet them. I’m pretty sure you loathed me at first, but now look! I get to babysit your cat!” Nyanko meows on cue and you turn back to him with a wide grin.

Aki stares for a moment, taking in the both of you before groaning into his palms and striding into his room.

“That’s not my cat.” He calls out.

“You still haven’t answered my question!”

He groans again.

“Why do you need to leave so suddenly anyways, it’s Friday night, we should be done for the week.”

“Nomo called for me!” He shouts. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“Great, now answer my question.”

He trails back into the hallway, coat in hand. Nyanko follows his footsteps, meowing after him.

Not his cat, huh?

“What’d you say?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “I said: answer my question!”

“No-- to Denji.”

Oh. You shrug, “I didn’t give him an answer. I’ve only seen the city, so I don’t think I could’ve given an accurate reply.” You say nonchalantly.

“It’s not really about where you’ve been--it mostly deals with preference.” Aki hums and shrugs on his coat.

“Yeah, but,” You finger at the stray hem of your sweatshirt, skittish, “well, I don’t know much from before I was like, what? Fifteen, sixteen? Even then things are kind of fuzzy..”

The hand he had on the doorknob stills, and Aki gapes at you, silent. You don’t know if you should continue your thought, unsure if this is information you want to give away to him, but his silence eggs you on. “ But I wouldn’t really know what I would prefer, since I don’t know alot about..me. Maybe I hated the city, but I’m still here--Or I hated the countryside which is why I live in Tokyo, but I’ll never truly know the original intent..I’m just here. Who’s to say the things I do now are things I would’ve done before I forgot everything”

The words come out muddled and jumbled together, and with the way he’s staring, you wish you could shove them all back into your mouth, never to come out again. You know that he knows that you worry about this from time to time, but the thought of being this vulnerable to anyone, even the person you know better than yourself, shakes you differently than any devil ever has. You wonder if you’re acting selfishly, to bare this out to him, because it always looks like it hurts Aki more than it hurts you.

You don’t like to think too hard on that either.

“That’s why I wanted to ask you,” you rush out. “I thought you’d have a better idea..”

Aki abandons the door altogether, standing before you in the kitchen. His eyes are glassy but the rest of his face is set in stone, unsure. “Does that even matter?”

You frown.“What?”

“I mean, if you enjoy yourself here, isn’t that good enough? Does it really matter what you thought , or who you were, five, ten, years ago? I like who you are now, I’m not that worried about who you might have been before.” He says, voice just above a whisper.

You blink, mind blank. You can feel the blood rush in your ears, roaring, as he searches your face.

I like who you are now

You think you should say something back, something just as momentous to ease the furrow in his brow, the same heat to your neck,but all that comes out is a measly, “Oh.”

Aki looks into you with the same eyes he had back at the diner and all at once you’re unsure of where he’s going with this. What you should do. What lines to cross. Your fingers flinch at your side. In the corner of your vision, his fingers do the same.

But then he blinks and it’s gone. You don’t know if you should sigh out of relief or disappointment.

You pointedly decide to hold your breath.

“And for the record,” He starts, hand on the door, “I chose the town mouse.”

The door clicks just as silently as it was opened.

Nyanko meows out to you, pawing just below the cabinet that holds her dinner and you breathe out a sigh.

“What would you prefer to eat, town mouse or country mouse?”

She hisses.

You should probably feed her before Power accuses you of animal abuse.

Later into the night, with the cat now fed and sleeping, you’re perusing the bookshelf when a small children’s book stands out to you.

The rest on the shelf are novels of varying lengths, so it sticks out like a sore thumb and, out of curiosity, you grab it.

The binding that holds it together is frayed and aged, the fabric of the book singed and faded. The cover is almost completely black, with the exception of a smiling rat on the corner.It’s a miracle it’s even in one piece.

You flip through it, an array of colors flickering on each page until it lands on the last one. It’s covered in blue crayon in a child’s chicken scratch, but at the very top of the page it reads:

‘Which mouse has it better?’

Town: Me, Dad

Country: Mom, Aki

‘And for the record, I chose the town mouse.’

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if there is something in the town that the country can’t offer.

You don’t want to think too hard on that, either.

#aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm #aki hayakawa #writings #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #if u can tell I rushed the later half #no u cant #also love the fact that the town/country mouse was in the manga since the very beginning of the story #w taiyo reading it #n then brought back in the 2nd half #x reader #reader insert

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years

Text

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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yolkyeomie · 3 years

Text

Humanity of the Inhuman | Kim Sunwoo

summary — legends are meant for the wild fantasies of the dream world, but when one myth suddenly comes true, you find yourself tangled within its webs of reality.

word count — 4.8k words

pairing — sunwoo x female!reader (ft. x juyeon)

genre — college au, gumiho au

disclaimer — !! light mentions of death, blood, and injury !! this was supposed to be only three parts but because I’m tired I have to put the rest into a part 4 🙂☝🏽

part I | part II | part III | part IV?

It’s been a week since you last saw Sunwoo in your house, and don’t worry it’s for a good reason. The gumiho didn’t just up and leave all of a sudden, he was a little too true to his word when it came to the nine tailed fox honor code.

He was simply doing what he set out to do in the first place: prove that Juyeon was a gumiho out to get you. Though seeing as it’s taken a week so far, there wasn’t a lot of information he was gathering.

It would get a little odd when you would walk into the mythology class the two of you shared and there was Sunwoo sitting in the very back. He wasn’t as close to the point where it would be suspicious but it was close enough to keep an eye on Juyeon. The awkward part was that sometimes you’d feel like the gumiho’s eyes were burning into the back of your head as well.

And yet despite his hard stare, Juyeon didn’t seem to notice at all. The first two days of Sunwoo spying on the two of you was uncomfortable but thanks to the boy’s kind nature, it was as if the gumiho’s presence disappeared completely.

You didn’t even hear the fox bead most of the time and that was your sure fire way of figuring out whether he was truly there or not.

“You wanna be partners?” Juyeon asked, closing the notebook in his hands and the class began to disperse around the two of you. “For the project I mean! Do you wanna be partners for… the project…?”

You thought about it for a moment, you always had a habit of just doing projects on your own ever since you were a child. While yes doing a project with a partner would make it easier and not as heavy of a load on you, you couldn’t stand working with others. There was always someone who decided to be the freeloader yet still got all the markers for the work. Plus, it was just faster to do it on your own.

But Juyeon is a good person, he’s been your class friend since you first stepped in the class. There was no reason for you not to believe he was a bad worker. “Sure why not,” you shrugged, “It would probably lessen the workload on the both of us and I’m sure you’ve got other things to do outside of campus.”

“How’d you know that?” He asked rather quickly, turning to you with rather curious eyes.

“I don’t know, you just seem like a busybody and a sociable guy,” you replied, giving him a half smile as he finally started to grab all of your belongings. “People like you have large friend groups and millions of extracurricular activities to keep themselves occupied.”

“Now I wouldn’t say I’m a busybody,” he tried to counter, his mannerism similar to those of a puppy’s as he spoke, “but you’re right, I do like to hang out with lots of my friends. Being around people is just… so much better than being alone.”

At those words you take a quick glance over toward where Sunwoo sat, though the gumiho was long gone now. If Juyeon liked hanging around people more than being by himself, it must have made it incredibly hard for Sunwoo to follow him around without looking suspicious.

You could just see it now, the gumiho trying to look as ordinary as possible as he practically chased down Juyeon and his abnormally large friend group. The boy lived in the dorms too so there was no way that Sunwoo was getting him completely alone. You almost giggled at the thought of the gumiho struggling.

“So where do you want to meet so we can work on the project?” Juyeon piped up, steering the conversion back to the project. Though the boy sounded a little too excited to be talking about it. “There’s the cafeteria on campus, a pretty decent coffee shop that’s nearby… oh and our homes! You know, my dorm will always be open to you. And Hyunjae will be more than happy to clean up around the place for you as well.”

“How about we just meet at my apartment for now?” You offered, standing up from your seat and urging him to follow suit.

“Really? You want me to go over to your house? Just me alone?”

You nodded your head, a laugh escaping your mouth as you replied,”I mean, yeah? It’s just a project and I trust you enough to—“

“—hey,” the two of you turned your heads, unsure on who was interrupting your conversation in such a fashion. Sunwoo stood behind the two of you with an almost amused grin, playing with his near fluffy hair with one hand and the other shoved deep into the university sweatshirt he wore. You thought he had left already, he must have blended in almost perfectly with his surroundings. “Let me join your group for the project.”

“Huh?” Both of you responded, different levels of shock exposed on your faces. Though Juyeon was the one who kept talking, “I’m sorry, but this is a solo or partner project. You’ll have to find someone else, I don’t know if we are allowed a third…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sunwoo assured them, giving Juyeon his signature mischievous smile. You think this is the first time that the gumiho has personally interacted with the boy in public. “I’m sure the teacher will be fine with it, aren't I right?”

You both turned to look at your instructor at the front of the class, but the glint of amber yellow amber in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed to you. The teacher was attending to another student, but took a moment to look up and toward the trio that was staring back at him. He smiled at the three of you before nodding his head, “he already asked about groups of three earlier, it’s fine with me! This whole class is either going solo or in pairs and he didn’t want to be alone so this can be a small exception to the rule.”

Juyeon nodded his head in understanding, turning to face Sunwoo again before giving him a compliant half smile. “Whatever authority says goes I guess. If Y/N is okay with it then…,” he glanced at you for a second and you nodded your head, not really wanting to hear the gumiho’s complaints later if you disagreed, “welcome to the group then. I’m Juyeon, by the way. You are…?”

“You can call me Sun,” he answered, replicating the same compliant expression Juyeon had as he introduced himself. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

“If that’s all then I’ll be going now. I’ll call you about times to meet for the project,” Juyeon excused himself, turning to you with his kind gaze and giving you a proper goodbye before grabbing his belongings and making his trek out of the mythology class.

You watched him leave for a moment, making sure that the boy was out of the room completely before turning to the gumiho beside you. “So? A week of following him and he was just your normal human being wasn’t he? So now your next step is to invade his daily life to try and get dirt on him?”

“What I can say, he was a slimy guy to follow,” Sunwoo admitted, moving to sit on the table you had just used as a desk. “Not only am I doing this to keep my eye on him, but I’m also doing this because you willingly invited a gumiho to your house? Now you really need my protection.”

You rolled your eyes at his claims, beginning your own journey off the campus as you replied to Sunwoo, “I told you to prove to me that Juyeon was a gumiho and I still don’t have that information yet. Until you get solid evidence, I’m going to continue to trust him like I’ve done before I met you. Plus! He’s shown no red flags to me and I’m very good at catching red flags.”

“Red flags of human men maybe, but I’m telling you!” Sunwoo argued, following after you closely, “Juyeon is not of this mortal realm and nearly killed me.”

“If Juyeon nearly killed you, how did he not recognize you the moment you asked to be in our group?” You asked him, not only to antagonize the gumiho but because you had a genuine question on the matter.

“If I’m being honest,” Sunwoo thought to himself for a moment, “I don’t know. Just mentioning the sun part of my name should have at least triggered the fight in him, but he took it like a champ…”

“Maybe the gumiho that was chasing you and tried to kill you wasn’t Juyeon,” you suggested, stopping in your tracks and turning to him before he could give you his regular counterclaim, “maybe the gumiho that was following you was just using Juyeon’s appearance as a disguise? Can’t you guys shapeshift? It would make sense that the Juyeon you saw wasn’t the real one.”

Sunwoo only let out a deep sigh, not wanting to consider your words but the logic was a little too strong to just set aside. “That makes sense but… I just can’t agree. I know that Juyeon was the one who attacked me and is targeting you, I just have to find a way to prove it.”

II.

Why did you even offer your apartment to be the meeting place for the project? What type of rose tinted glasses were you hearing in order to make that type of decision?

Because of your horrible decision making, now you were sitting in your living room on the exact couch you nearly crumbled into when Sunwoo had kissed you not even a full week before except the gumiho wasn’t the one sitting next to you. It was Juyeon. Sunwoo was sitting on the floor in front of the two of you, his smug expression was enough to know the thoughts that were running through his head.

“Since the project is about gumihos, we can easily split this up into three parts,” the boy offered, unwillingly becoming the team leader since the unseen tension between you and Sunwoo had left you speechless, “one of us does the presentation, the other person finds images to add to the presentation, and then we split the research into two parts. I was thinking Y/N could do the presentation since you definitely have a better eye than me when it comes to decorating…”

You had practically cut out Juyeon’s voice in your head. You were a little guilty of doing so, but you couldn’t help it! Not when the gumiho’s mischievous stare was burning holes into your head and the memory of you and Sunwoo sharing an intimate moment on replay in your head. You can replay the situation almost scene by scene in your head actually, that’s how ingrained in your mind it was.

It just had been a very prevalent thought in your mind recently because Sunwoo was gone most of the time. But now he’s here, and so is Juyeon.

“I don’t think Y/N wants to do the presentation actually,” Sunwoo intervened, a foxish grin appearing on his face as he offered, ”I think she wants to do the research instead. It looks like she’s got some… things… on her mind.”

“What?” You quicked added, trying not to seem as disoriented as you actually were. “No— it’s fine. I can do the presentation. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Now that you mention it, Sun,” Juyeon nodded, a frown beginning to cross his features as he watched you, “Y/N… you do seem a little out of it.”

“Maybe we should do this another day… don’t we all want to be focused on our project so we can get a good grade? If someone is distracted, we might not do as well as we can do.” Sunwoo continued, lying straight through his teeth as he encouraged Juyeon’s kindness for you.

You wanted to stop him, you wanted to prove to both of them that you were perfectly okay, but that jingle of the fox bead within Sunwoo’s possession seemed to say otherwise. “Sure, let’s meet another day. How does the day after tomorrow sound? It’ll be right after class too.”

“I’m fine with that,” Juyeon agreed and Sunwoo only nodded in response. “I’ll text you the roles I think we should all have later so you can think about what you want to do in advance. Make sure you let Sun know too.”

You all exchanged goodbyes and wanted until Juyeon left first before sitting in complete silence. You were too ashamed of letting the past distract you and Sunwoo was simply enjoying the moment that he had created.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to go and follow him,” the gumiho exclaimed, rising off the ground and stretching his limbs. “What a busy day today has been. This is the most I’ve done in a while now… maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable just living here—“

You stop him before he can walk past him, your nails threatening to dig into his skin while the other hand is hovering over the conspicuously placed talisman you own. You felt Sunwoo’s skin crawl as soon as he noticed it and gave you his most innocent smile and big baby doll eyes. “Something the matter?”

“Find out if Juyeon is a gumiho, quickly.” You hissed at him, hoping the very obvious threat was getting through that thick skull of his. “Because I don’t know if I could spend another minute on this couch with him in my house knowing damn well we kissed because of your need to be proven right.”

“What can I say!” The gumiho gleefully responded, leaning down towards you and whispering, “being a gumiho makes me a really good kisser. Of course you wouldn’t forget it so easily.”

Sunwoo yelped as you nearly punched him, slapping the talisman onto his cheek and letting go of him. You watched the nine tailed fox grovelled in pain on the ground, wanting to snatch the paper talisman off but not having the ability to touch it in the first place. “Say that again and next time everything in the house will be covered in a talisman!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He begged, his true form struggling to tear itself out of his humanoid body. The talisman was doing its job trying to dispel and absorb the evil energy and Sunwoo was doing his best trying to keep himself from going into a withdrawal.

You couldn’t stand to watch him lay there in agony anymore. Sure it was funny for a few seconds since you got your revenge, but as time passed you noticed it was taking a lot more energy than you thought for him to keep himself stable. “Stay still for like two seconds okay? Even though that might be… a little hard for you but… whatever just— hold on!”

You drop to your knees in an instant and tear the talisman off like a bandaid, wincing on Sunwoo’s behalf as you watch him take the deepest breath he possibly could. The gumiho form of him seemed to dissipate almost immediately now that he has control over his power but it only made your mind wander.

If a small talisman months old could cause so much damage to him, you wondered how exactly he could go head to head with a gumiho of a nearly full fox bead. “You’re not like… hurt right? The talisman didn’t leave a scar or something because they looked like it hurt really badly.”

“I… really need that fox bead back.” He spoke in between breaths but that sentence gave you all the information you needed to know. The fox bead was probably the primary source of strength for gumihos, sure without it they were still dangerous but in a state like Sunwoo’s who said his was empty? You might have just reduced him to a killable state.

“I am… so sorry,” you apologized, taking the smallest step back as you watched Sunwoo get off of the ground. “If I knew you were that screwed without your original fox bead I would have never touched you with it. It’s my fault, seriously.”

The gumiho shook his head, “No, you’re fine, don’t worry. It’s the person with my fox bead we have to worry about. I don’t think I truly realized how badly of a situation we’re in right now. If I get proof that Juyeon is a gumiho and he catches me? There is no way you or me will get out of that situation alive.”

III.

And oddly enough, a week has gone by since that incident. No, not a week, a month actually.

You finished your project with Juyeon despite the fact that Sunwoo bailed at the last minute, and you've barely seen him since. He went charging after your mythology class friend to find his fox bead and gather the information you needed to prove his claims so he didn’t go far, it's just… been a moment since you’ve seen him.

You know for a fact that he’s still alive because every so often you’ll hear noises in your house while you're trying to sleep and hear the quite yet familiar tone of Sunwoo’s voice curse. But other than that? You don’t see him. Your life had gone back to normal as if you were never being hunted by a gumiho in the first place, as if you never met Sunwoo in the first place.

You did in fact get rid of that talisman though, just in case he came back and wasn’t watching his step.

“Maybe I just need to get out of the house,” you admitted to yourself, staring aimlessly at the ceiling of your room. “I don’t leave much anymore… Maybe Kevin wants to hang out or something?” You had to admit, you did not realize just how boring your life was outside of being associated with Sunwoo. Your days were nothing but wake up, go to class, come home, and repeat.

You reach for your phone amid the blankets folds, grumbling and mumbling to yourself only to grab a hold of it snatch it away from its prison. It was almost dead but that was your fault, you came in your room and immediately collapsed into the bedsheets without question. Where was your charger? Knowing yourself you probably left it in the living room without thinking, who would have known you were going to get up in the first place?

“It’s nearly midnight, Kevin is probably fast asleep by now,” you concluded, thinking about your words for a moment before a text appeared into your notification bar. “Oh, never mind.”

Though, it wasn’t the usual cryptic text you received from the boy. Actually it wasn’t Kevin at all, but it was Juyeon. The last time he had spoken to you over the phone first was when you blacked out after finding Sunwoo.

With your eyes glued to the bright white screen, you forced yourself out of the bed and practically leaped over to the living room to search for your charger with newfound energy. You reached over to flick the lights on but immediately backtracked when Juyeon started to call instead.

“Juyeon,” you start, trying to sound as normal as possible. “What brings you to my phone number tonight?”

“Can I be honest with you?” He questioned, his breaths sounding as though he was forcing them to be rhythmic and slow. You raise an eyebrow at his soft yet rather serious tone, this wasn’t a Juyeon you usually interacted with. “It’s… kinda important honestly.”

“Of course, we’re friends right? I mean… like class acquaintances… but friends nonetheless,” you agree and you might have mistaken his huff for a slightest scoff for a moment. You choose to point it out whether it was serious or not, “what's with that frustrated tone in your voice? Got an attitude or something?”

“No, no that’s not it,” he quickly countered, “it’s just that every time you say that we’re friends, you always have to mention the fact that we're just college friends. It’s a little bothersome sometimes.”

You raise a brow at his words, falling into the couch as you respond, “I mean… is that not what we are…?”

There was a pause on the other side of the phone and you patiently waited for the boy to give you a reply. Instead, he just jumped to the next topic. Typical conversation tactics of a man. “I have something for you and something to tell you, but it has to be done in person. It would feel right if it was over the phone. I was wondering if you would be free to come by the dorms sometime tomorrow?”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me in the middle of the night?” You teased, almost rolling your eyes at his decisions before answering him. “Sure, I don’t think I'll have any classes that afternoon so it should be fine.”

You could almost hear the smile on Juyeon’s face, “perfect! You have to come okay, no bailing out on me now. I’ll be waiting for you!”

You didn’t even bother answering him, slowly sitting up in your seat as goosebumps began to trail down your arms. “Y/N?” He questioned once he noticed your abnormal silence, “are you okay?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy didn’t even get another word out of his mouth before you hung up on him, staring out the window of your apartment and trying your best to withhold a scream that wanted to escape. There in the corner of your window stood a figure, glowing amber yellow eyes piercing through the glass and staring straight into your soul. Unfortunately for you, you knew that amber yellow tint a little too well from your mythology studies and first hand experience.

Now you were regretting throwing away that talisman.

Though the fear that crept up your throat like bile dissipated within a moment as the light jingle of bells rang in your ear. The fox bead must be nearby, if you can hear it ringing then that means the gumiho was in the area.

You did have to be careful though, just because you could hear the fox bead didn’t necessarily mean that it was Sunwoo. After all, you haven’t seen him for about a month now. Who knows what could have happened to him… but let’s not let dark thoughts cloud the mind, right?

“Sunwoo…?” You hesitated, inching ever so slowly toward the window. You had to be careful, just because you saw a pair of glowing eyes didn't necessarily mean it was the gumiho you had come to know.

The figure didn’t respond though, in fact it barely moved from its position at the window. You stopped in your tracks, ready to run to your room for safety, when it teetered to the side before falling out of the frame. A loud thud could be heard as they fell to the ground and you finally sprung out of your seat to check. Don’t worry though, you were still extremely cautious going about your next actions.

You cracked open the door just slightly, peering your eye through the crevice to scope out the area. You didn’t exactly give yourself enough room to look around though, just barely seeing the moon’s shine on the night sky.

You were just being cautious! What if you need a quick escape back into your house because a gumiho suddenly attacked? You did live alone after all, who were you going to call if you got into trouble? Definitely not the police. Would they even believe you if you said a nine tailed fox was trying to—

“You suck at being stealthy,” your body was pulled across the doorway as the door opened wide, not even giving you a chance to react before you found yourself outside of your apartment. You looked up with a nervous grin on your face to see Sunwoo towering over you. “I’m surprised you haven’t been taken in as a gumiho’s latest feast yet.”

“You’re back,” you stand up tall, completely disregarding the nine tailed fox’s statement to talk about something else. “Where have you been? I mean— I know where you’ve been, don't get me wrong. But you were gone for a month! Any longer and I think I would have forgotten about you completely.”

“I was doing my job was I not?” He smiled, though it wasn’t his usually mischievous grin plastered onto his face. In fact, he looked a little… strained.

The way he was leaning onto the door and holding it steady so he barely had to move a muscle wasn’t helping his case either. “Now I’m back to have a nice comfortable rest, I’ll probably leave again tomorrow though, you know… gotta catch the gumiho!”

“Hold still for me,” you demanded, reaching out for his shirt collar to inspect something .

Sunwoo swiftly dodged your hand, moving away like it was a bullet coming straight for him. “I said hold still.”

“Why? Do we have a problem or something?” The gumiho asked, grabbing a hold of your curious hand this time with his free hand as Sunwoo let out a shameless giggle. “Did you miss me that much? One month away and now you can’t get your hands off of me!”

“I’m not trying to be handsy,” you scowl, pushing the door with your foot and watching Sunwoo stumble about for the loss of his support before taking his shirt collar in your hand, “I can tell your bleeding through your shirt.”

He winced as the fabric skidded against his skin, revealing the very fresh and oozing red blood that was spilling out of scar on his neck. No, it would be undermining the damage if you simply called it a scar. It was more like a wound, a wound that was rich with fresh blood and scaling down from his neck down to his side… who knew how far down it went actually.

That was just one injury you had spotted, but there were probably countless scars and wounds that dotted his skin.

Each one seemed to be of such increasing severity that it was making you nauseous. “How long have you been like this?” You asked, letting go of his shirt to save yourself from a possible black out. You made sure to grab onto Sunwoo’s arm after, seeing as he barely had enough energy to actually stand on his own.

“You’ve been gone for a month, please don’t tell me you’ve been this badly injured for a month,” you demanded, “I know you’re this… this crazy mythical creature and what not but the severity of those wounds… it’s bad, Sunwoo, even worse than when I first found you. You need to go to a hospital.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” the boy tried to reassure you, “I’m a gumiho, remember? I’m going to heal much faster than a mortal ever could so there’s no need to go to a hospital—“

“Sunwoo! Look at yourself!” You practically screech, letting go of him and watching the gumiho cling into your door frame for support. “You are hurt, Sunwoo, heavily, from your neck down. Any sane person, mythical or not, would know that you need to get proper treatment and not rely on my poor first aid knowledge and your resortive abilities!”

“For the last time, Y/N, no means no. I’m not going, everything will heal if you just give me time.” Sunwoo begged, on the verge of throwing a fit like a child at your constant nagging. He leaned up against the doorframe and slid down it with his arms crossed, a pinch of annoyance struggling to stay hidden behind his attitude.

You have to physically hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around his neck and wringing him out like a wet towel. If his wounds didn’t end up killing him then surely you would end up being the gumiho’s demise. “Fine, can you at least tell me why you’re injured and when all of this… happened?”

Sunwoo glanced toward you, resting his head in his hands as he thought about your words for a moment. You can see the usual mischief in his eyes as he did, the audacity of the gumiho to think that he wasn’t going to share this crucial information with you is absurd. “I hope you’re not in love with Juyeon, Y/N,” he told you, his eyes shifting into that amber yellow tint, “because you’re about to get your heart broken.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of the gumiho’s words before it hit you. “Oh… you can’t be serious.”

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding VIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI - - - Part VII

He didn’t feel any pain when the saber pierced him

the world exploded and Obi-Wan was relieved. it worked- this must be breaking out

then not Anakin was there and that wasn’t right and he felt like he was burning alive and broken pieces fell but he wasn’t free he closed his eyes had to concentrate

Wake up Break Out Not Real

Woke up but he wasn’t Out and it hurt and Not Real Anakin was yelling at him for being stupid but he was trying to get Out and he had to try harder and went for the knife but it didn’t reach and his arm felt weak and he started to black out

He FORCED himself to WAKE UP and it ALMOST worked he could feel the heat but the rest wasn’t real so he tried again and

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!”

and that was irritating because trying was all he had left anymore he was trying so hard and if he wanted to die then he would have just

There were hands on him and lightning in his chest and this must be

Obi-Wan blinked aWAKE confused-

“He keeps fighting the sedatives! -”

“-Varp! Up the dose, we need to finish the operation before...”

The familiar haziness of a full Bacta Immersion and there was something he was supposed to remember he had to WAKE UP and he struggled and there was yelling from somewhere

Bacta Pod- must be the temple. and he tried to remember how he got there but whatever it was must have been bad because he was VERY high and he had to... had to wake up (but he was awake someone told him he was already awake) and he had to break out (but this was safe safe someone was telling him this was safe so he must have broken out already) and something else not something not he heard cursing and everything got even fuzzier

Obi-Wan woke all at once, as though someone had dumped a bucket of water on him. Vokara Che and a Nautolan he vaguely recognized were hovering over him, watching him with unnerving intensity.

He shifted slightly under their gaze, and was confused to find himself unable to move any of his limbs.

“We’ve cuffed you to the bed,” Healer Che told him calmly. “Do you remember why?”

Wake up Break Out Not Real

Obi-Wan thought back furiously. The memories of the last few days came racing back, then the last few years.

He closed his eyes trying to think; his life had been so surreal for so long that it was hard to assess using reason. But something wasn’t adding up. He backtracked to the the last memory he knew to be true.

Luke, of course. Luke was the most real thing in the galaxy. He held Luke for a short time before Owen rightfully kicked him out.

Then...back to his hut, to try and desperately fix whatever was wrong with the vaporators now...The Jawas stopped by...They had spice.

He had thought about purchasing it before, but he knew the Sandcrawler was a safer bet if only for its indifference to him. They wouldn’t judge him or take note of the vulnerability in the way the people of Mos Eisley would. He sat in his hut berating himself before finally giving in.

Then having a wonderful, perfect lucid dream- Cody, and Anakin, and Plo Koon and Bant and Mace and Anakin, his Anakin. But...if it was a dream, why did his attempts to wake fail so miserably? His body felt odd, not really hungry or thirsty. It didn’t make sense.

Even assuming a distorted sense of time, this was too involved for a hallucination. The fact of the matter was that he was a Jedi Master. Even without the force, if he was lost inside his own mind...he should have been able to get out.

This...couldn’t be a drug-induced hallucination. Maybe it was at some point but...

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, suddenly struggling for air. Vokara laid a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away.

“Master Kenobi, please try and take deep breaths,” The Nautolon urged in a soothing voice.

He complied, steadying his breathing and finding calm. He had an enemy to fight against and he was done making a fool of himself.

“I understand now,” Obi-Wan said flatly. “This must have been very entertaining for you.”

“I assure you Master Kenobi,” the Nautolan said frowning, “Your pain is not a source of entertainment for I, nor anyone else in the temple. Quite the opposite- a number of people were stricken at the thought of you joining the force before your time.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You can drop the act, Sidious.”

There was a pause.

“I’m Master Vokara Che, Chief Healer of the Jedi Temple. I’ve known you since you were a crecheling,” she responded carefully. “This is Master Sife Aerdo, they’re one of our best soul healers. Neither of us are putting on an act, nor are we here to harm you. Is there something we can do to convince you of our identities?”

Obi-Wan glared at her, before turning to look straight at the ceiling.

“Vokara Che is dead, along with everyone else. I assume my mental defenses weakened after I drugged myself; you must have been besides yourself with glee to find me in such a state. I hope you’ve had your fun watching me run around in your Sith mindtrap, because its over. Torture me all you want, parade as many ghosts in front of me as you desire, you know I have nothing useful to tell you. And you’ve already destroyed everyone who you could possibly use as leverage against me, so I have no motivation to allow you a shred more entertainment. You can try and turn me if you wish, but honestly, what could you possibly put me through that you haven’t already?”

Master Aerdo tried to catch Obi-Wan’s eyes, “Master Kenobi, I understand you had a terrible vision of some kind. I am not denying how it has impacted you. But I ask you to take a chance to see for yourself that those you fear dead are still here, and they still care for you. I’ve had a look at your shields and I’m concerned by how fully you’ve blocked yourself off from the force. I understand you may have done this in an attempt at defense, but-”

Obi-Wan let out a snort, responding snidely, “You’re going to have to do better if you want to get any further into my mind, Emperor Palpatine”

And at that, he closed his eyes, sinking deep within. His weakness had cost him Luke but there was still a chance that Leia was safe with Bail and Breha.

(don’t think too hard about Luke you’ll lose what strength you have left)

He might not be able to escape, but he could raise his shields even higher, cutting himself off further from his surroundings.

If Palpatine wanted his attention he would just have to torture him like a decent person.

Part IX

#star wars #star wars au #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #mention of death #attempted suicide

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish.

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed.

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87.

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell.

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put.

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him.

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick.

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall.

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink.

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you.

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!”

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room.

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile.

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside.

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them.

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly. “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath.

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light.

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image.

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it.

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been.

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling.

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes.

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot.

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked.

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.”

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it.

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

“I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations:

She speaks English.

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see.

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #narcos #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #reader insert #hurt/comfort #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanficiton #narcos fanfic #better love #aftershocks

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bodyswapmischief · 4 years

Text

Chemical Warfare Weight Gain

As I began waking up, the only thought running through my mind was the beeping of the EKG, my arm was attached to. I laid there for a few minutes, my thoughts slowly returned to me.

I began remembering my name, my past but, I had no idea how I ended up there. (I was a soldier in my countries army), I told myself. Although I felt no pain, I feared the worst. (Did I get injured in an enemy attack), I continued thinking to myself.

With a deep breath and my growing strength, I opened my eye and, looked up at the world, around me. I was in a dimly lit hospital room, a curtain prevent me from viewing more than my immediate surroundings. I turn my attention to my body still covered by a thin blanket.

By this time I had no trouble sitting myself up. And, as I did I threw the blanket off me, revealing my hairy yet muscular body, which only wore a pair of boxer briefs. I was thrown a bit off guard but, started to rub the different parts of my body, letting the hair slide through my fingers. (Damn I must have been out for awhile), I thought while feeling the field of hair that covered most of my body. I knew my body had the potential to get really hairy, but I usually shaved on a daily basis to prevent it. Now all that constant work wasted.

My attention turned to my underwear. I looked around and waited to see if I could hear anything. And, when I thought I was safe. I took off my underwear. Again I was relieved. My 8 inch dick was still there surrounded my meaty sized balls. However, I would admit they looked smaller, as the hair on my legs and torso met at my pelvic region to create a massive bush of hair.

Looking around the room I noticed a mirror, which allowed me to see my back and ass, which were also covered in a layer of fur. (Damn, I going have to fix this), I thought to myself.

As I sat there becoming acquainted with my hairy body, something odd popped in my head. (This hair on my body had to take at least a month to grow out. So, I was on this bed for awhile. But, there wasn't an IV placed on me. No, feeding tube. I don't remember waking up to feed myself. How did I survive without food and water.), I started to question the situation I found myself in. But, the strangest part was that I didn't feel hungry.

With questions running through my head, I put my underwear back on and went to look for a doctor or nurse. Leaving my covered area, I finally noticed I wasn't alone. On the other side of the room, partially covered by a divider. I saw a man, also, on a ER bed. Unlike me he was very fat. His belly was exposed as his blanket was on the floor.

As, I got closer to him, I noticed he was completely naked. Ripped pieces of underwear were buried under his fat ass. He was also hairy, but not as hairy as me. His big beefy legs and puffed out fat pad made his dick look small. But, It wasn't like he could have seen it over the mountain that was his stomach. His chest looked somewhat muscular, but now an equal layer of fat made his pecs look more like boobs. Seeing his face, something seemed familiar but, I couldn't make it out. Even through the double chin and fat checks, I felt like I've seen this face, before. (But this guy must be close to 300lbs, I would remember someone this big), I thought to myself.

Feeling embarrassed for him, that his fat naked body was on full display. I picked up the blanket and covered him. His fat stomach even more pronounced with the thin fabric clinging to it. Unable to resist the urge, I patted his stomach, "there ya go big guy." I was shocked as he began to move. His eyes struggling to open. He softly moaned, trying to tell me something. But with the breathing tube in his mouth and the fact he was half conscious, he wasn't understandable. I looked around and also noticed no IV, was placed in him. "Don't worry buddy, I'll go get us some help and answers." I left as his eyes began to close again.

I continued walking and every room I past had the same sight. Big fat men, of different sizes, laying on hospital beds. Not one of them hooked up to machines, other than heart monitors and some had breathing tubes . I reached the elevator and pushed the button. Nothing happened. I started to panic and moved quickly to the stairwell. The doors that lead out were locked. I started yelling for someone ... anyone, as I continued walking the empty halls.

I found my way into a big room, with the biggest guy on the floor here. He must have been 600 pounds. There was no way this man was able to move as his body was nothing more than a giant bean bag of fat. No curves ... just a blob of fat. His file sat on a nearby desk.

"Officer Ryan Lakewood" the file read. I paused for awhile, but suddenly a wave of recognition rushed my brain. I knew that name. Lakewood was one of the more well known guys in the troop. He was massive with muscle; easily the strongest guy. I remained in shock as I walked towards the fat man's face, "It couldn't be" I told myself. But, as I looked at the man's face ... It was him. Underneath all the fat that filled his once chiseled face, I could see him; the man he used to be.

How did that happen. He did eat a lot, but all of that went to fueling his massive muscles. Before, I could think anymore the heart monitor he was attached to flatlined. Panicked, I started to do chest compressions. But, it wasn't long before doctors and nurses, covered up in protective gear, rushed in. They grabbed me and in my panicked state, I started to fight back. But, I was no match as I felt a syringe being stabbed into my skin. As the drowsiness set in, I heard the doctors say "He's gone, the last one over 400lbs ... at least the others still seem to be in stable condition."

I woke up tied to a chair in an empty room. I looked up to see two doctors in front of me. "Hello Liam."

"What the fuck is going on." I yelled.

They explained everything to me. Our enemy secretly broke into our base and unleashed a gas attack. However this gas attack was a new chemical warfare weapon. Once inhaled it latched on to any food in the stomach. The calories release from the food became a deadly ridiculous amount. But death was prevent by the second affect of the gas. It speed up the fat production process and allowed the skin to become more elastic, allowing the infected to safely grow fatter. Even then those who gained an insane amount of weight had other complications, and were deemed very likely to die. Most of these men were 400lbs or more.

However, the worst part is that the men stayed affected by the gas. Meaning if they ate anything, another massive weight gain would happen. The only positive was these men never had to drink or eat anything ever again.

Our base was the first and two more came after. The doctors feared more attacks. So, they started looking for a way to negate or reverse the affects. But, they weren't able to see how the gas worked first hand. They could have given a man something to eat. But all the men were too big. Giving these men anymore to eat would have been a death sentence. All the men where to big ... except me.

My stomach was completely empty when the gas attack happened. The doctors proceeded to tell me that I was their best choice to help save 100s if not 1000s of my brothers. So, I agreed. In a short time, numerous machines were attached to me. When all of it was done, they brought out a small salad

I put one piece of lettuce in my mouth and the flavor was amazing. It was the best thing I ever ate. All this time, I didn't feel hungry, but now I was starving. I ignored the fork and started shoveling food into my mouth, with my hands. Over the euphoria of the sensations happening in my mouth, I could here the doctors outside the room, yelling to stop. But, I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. By the time they came in the room, I was done. But, I was still hungry. I felt my body tingle but, it only made me hungry. I tried to run past the doctors but they stopped me and knocked me out with another dose of tranquilizers.

When I came to, I felt myself laying on a hospital bed again. I was no longer hungry, but I felt heavy. I slowly opened my eyes to face the truth. I looked down to see a hill of fat where my abs once were. I uncover myself and started to examine my new fat body. I sat up and looked into the mirror placed by my bed, as I continued to feel different parts of my body.

My face now had chubby checks and small a double chin, hidden behind my new beard. My stomach jutted out, covered in fur. I used my hands to push it in and felt no signs of the abs that once graced the area. Instead of hard muscular pecs, sitting on my chest were hairy soft breast. I reluctantly touch my new man boobs. It felt weird. As, I touch them I notice how they and my new belly jiggled with every movement. I looked at my, once slender, thighs; they were big, juicy, and also covered in hair. I tried to suck in my stomach but couldn't. It was like my body wasn't use to sucking it in, a muscle I would have to work on.

So, I used my hands to adjust my stomach so I could get a good view of my dick. All this jiggling, reluctantly made my dick hard. Surrounded by fat and a bush of pelvic hair, it didn't even look 8 inches any more. I was lucky if it past of as a 4 incher. I stood up and looked in the mirror. This was my new body ... I couldn't believe one small salad did this.

Over the course of the next few days, doctors came in talk to me. The data they received from me was helpful but, they would need more cases like mine to get enough data. They continued working on a cure but without that additional data they keep running into problems. And that data would never come because, the gas attacks stopped. Many of the world countries secretly got together to stop the country responsible. The use of that gas was a war crime. And, all information was kept secret from the public.

In total I gained 60lbss from eating one salad, going from my fit 186lbs to a fat 249lbs. The rest of the survivors and I were gathered and were given a debriefing. I look around and was a little happy to see I was still one of the thinner guys there. But, you could tell we were all bummed out about our new bodies. We were told to never eat anything again, unless we wanted to die. They explain that as long as we didn't eat anything we wouldn't feel hungry. But, once food entered our mouths we would be insatiable unless we were isolated from all food for a couple of hours.

They also told us the weight gain was permanent no amount of exercise would lead to weight loss, but it would still help the muscle we loss from spending months at the hospital, being inactive.

Many of the bigger guys were forced out of the army. The, still very fat, thinner guys were given a choice to leave. I stupidly agreed to continue serving my country. I didn't realize being overweight, the best way to serve my country was patrolling the streets like some glorified security guard.

Now, I'm constantly mocked by civilians and other soldiers who know nothing about what really happened. I get teased with food and called pig. I had a few close calls where people threw food at my face. Luckily none landed in my mouth. The hardest part is never eating again. It's not that I'm hungry, it more like a habits. Imagine doing the same thing for 26 years of your life and now you can't do it anymore. I miss eating, I just want to be normal again. But, the urge to stay alive is stronger. If I give in, the inner pig would be unleashed, eating every in sight and killing me in the process.

#body #male #swap #transformation #stories #tf #mischief #story #gain #magic weight gain #weight #weight gain

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buckysflannelpajamas · 3 years

Text

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

TRIGGER WARNING: victim blaming (though he doesn’t mean it) and mention of attempted r*pe and past attempted s*icide

Beep

Ugh. What is that sound? It’s disturbing your sleep.

Slowly, you open your tired eyes to find yourself in a dull grey room. Your heartbeat starts to pick up when you realize this isn’t your room.

Where are you?

The sound of the beeping quickens as your eyes race around the room, trying to figure out where you are. Dull grey walls, uncomfortable bed, heart rate monitor, IV bag… you must be in a hospital.

Shit, what happened?

You can’t help but notice that the IV is connected to a needle in your vain. Your heart rate continues to rise. Fuck, you hate needles! You move your hand to pull it out, only to be stopped by a large hand gently grabbing yours.

“Woah, woah, woah. You're ok, just take it easy.” A cold hand presses your shoulder gently to get you to lay back down.

“Bucky?” You recognize the voice immediately. Why are you in a hospital and what is Bucky doing here? Just as the questions enter your mind, fuzzy memories of the night start to drift back.

Arthur, the car, Bucky, the ambulance.

Oh shit, what did you get yourself into.

“You’re in the hospital.” Bucky starts. “You, Uh, had a ruff night.” Seeing that you’ve calmed down, Bucky carefully takes his hands away.

You don’t say it, but deep down you don’t want him to take his hands away.

“I know, I remember… well, kind of.”

“That’s good. You must not have gotten too high a dose.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You groan to yourself.

“You got that fucking right.” Bucky agrees.

Wait… what? Wasn’t he being nice to you last night?

“Excuse me?” You question, unsure you heard him correctly.

Bucky takes a step back from you, starting to pace. “I mean, what were you thinking?! Leaving the compound unsupervised!”

“I took a few steps outside! I didn’t think it would be a big deal!” You defend. It was one thing if you were upset at yourself about what happened, but Bucky has no right to be.

“Well it was! You’re fucking lucky that it was just some scumbag actor that took you and and not a group like Hydra! Also, seriously? Hasn’t your father ever told you to not take your eyes off your drink?!” Bucky continues to rant. “Or maybe you thought it’d be fun to be rebellious and try whatever drug he offered you?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. How dare he! How dare he have the audacity to suggest that you were stupid enough to just take drugs from a stranger!

Bucky opens his mouth to yell again but you interrupt him. You’re tired of taking his shit and letting him do all the talking.

“Fuck you!” You shout. “How dare you suggest that I would be stupid enough to take drugs from a stranger! And don’t get on to me about watching my drink. I assumed that I wouldn’t get drugged in my own house while surrounded by Avengers!” As you rant you decide that it was time to put it out all in the air. To let him know how wrong he is about everything. “Also, what’s your fucking problem with me? You say I'm too happy and nice, well so is Steve and I don’t see you screaming at him? And by the way, I’m not this happy-go-lucky person all the time! New flash Barnes, everybody has shit they deal with, some are just better at hiding it than others!” Your fists are clenched and your chest is heaving as you continue to yell. “You wanna know why I have daddy issues? Cause I tried to fucking kill myself a few years ago! And my dad, instead of letting me recover and go to therapy in the medical wing of the tower, he sent me off, knowing how terrified I was of doctors and hospitals. And to top it all off, he didn’t even visit, make a phone call or even write me a fucking letter! Not to mention that he hates that I do art and has never once said he is proud of me! I mean, he likes that fucking spider kid more than me!”

“Y/n I’m sorr-“ Bucky starts.

“I’m not done.” You cut him off. “I’m sorry about what Hydra did to you, I really am. But everyone has their own shit. The rest of us just chooses not to take it out on other people.” You sigh, finally done.

Bucky stares at you silently, unsure of what to say. You had just dropped a bomb on him and he was thoroughly unprepared.

“Get out.” You tell him quietly, too worn out to yell anymore.

Bucky doesn't put up a fight, simply nodding. He walks slowly to the door, hesitating before leaving. “I’ll tell Tony you’re awake…. I’m sorry y/n.”

As soon as Bucky closes the door, you let out a sigh as you fall back against the bed, already wanting this day to be done.

You're sitting up, sipping on the small juice box the nurse had left by your bed while flipping through the channels on the hospital TV.

The door to your room creaks open, Tony coming from behind it.

“How ya holding up kid?”

You shrug, setting the juice down and muting the TV. “Fine I guess… the juice here is good.”

Tony walks further into the room. “That’s good.” He takes a seat at the end of the bed.

A few moments pass, neither of you knowing what to say. The tension in the room is thick and one of you would have to be the first to cut it.

“Dad.” You finally speak. “We need to talk.”

Tony sighs, an awkward half smile making its way to his face. “Why do I get the feeling that you're not referring to last night?”

“Why-“ your voice cracks, your emotions weighing heavy on you. “Why did you send me away?” You start to tear up. “Why didn’t you call or visit?”

Tony clears his throat, clearly feeling the same emotions bubbling up as you. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

This pisses you off. “You could have had me stay in the hospital wing of the tower! You could have been there for me instead of sending me off like some kind of unwanted burden!” Tears start to leak out of your eyes. “Just like my mom did.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

You had never met your mom, didn’t know anything other than that she was one of Tony’s one night stands. She never cared about you, didn’t even care enough to name you. She simply left you in a basket in the lobby of Stark industries with a note claiming you were his daughter.

Tony moves right beside you, taking your hands in both of his. “You can’t possibly think that.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s only moments away from crying.

“What was I supposed to think!” You cry.

Tony’s lip quivers as he speaks, two heavy tears falling down his cheeks. “I made a mistake.” He admits. “I thought you would do better being around people you could relate to. That’s why I sent you off.”

“And the reason you didn’t call or visit?” Your shaking hand wipes tears from your eyes.

“When- When you found out I was sending you to a facility upstate you told me you hated me. That you never wanted to see or hear from me again.” Tony pauses. “I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

Then it hits you, it was all your fault. If you had never said those terrible things to your father he may have come to see you.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, hey, don’t do that.” Tony pulls you close, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you hug. “It was my mistake, I shouldn’t have listened to you. It’s my fault.”

“Dad, you think everything’s your fault.”

“So do you.”

You both laugh lightly. Like father, like daughter.

Tony pulls away from the hug, just enough that you can look him in the eyes. “I just need to know… why’d you do it kid?”

You sigh, frowning. “It’s not anything in particular… it’s just, in the moment, you feel so sad and worthless that you think the only way you can escape the pain is to- is to end it.”

“I’m so sorry you ever felt like that.” Tony apologizes. “I should have known.”

You shake your head. “You can’t fault yourself for that. I hid it well, you couldn’t have known.”

“Still, I just-“

“Let’s not not ruin the moment with ‘ifs and buts’, ok? We’ve finally got it out in the open and now we can move on, right?” You suggest.

Well you worked out most of your problems. He has still never told you that he’s proud of you, but that’s an issue for a later date.

Tony nods, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re right, and besides, you have a visitor coming soon.”

You look at him in confusion. Who did he tell?

Before you can even ask, the sound of pounding feet coming running down the hall and into your room.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Peter Parker. And he’s brought flowers.

“You told him?” You angrily whisper to your dad.

“He was worried about you when he didn’t see you at the tower.” He whispers back.

“You could’ve-“ you start to speak but cut yourself of as Peter makes his way over to you.

“Hey Peter.” You sigh. Your feelings towards the boy were complicated. On one hand, you resent him for his relationship with your dad, but on the other, the kid was really sweet and hard to dislike. He was almost like an annoying little brother to you.

“Hey y/n! I’m sorry about uh…” he trails off, not sure what to say. “I brought you flowers!” He changes the subject. “I didn’t know what kind you like so I got you a mix!” He smiles brightly.

You smile back softly, taking the vase of the artificially dyed flowers and setting them on the bedside table.

“Thanks Pete.”

Tony smiles at Peter. “That’s nice of you kid.”

Peter shrugs. “It’s no big deal, I mean, that's what you do for people in hospitals right?”

You nod absentmindedly as you read the card attached to the vase. You furrow your brows as you read it aloud. “Congratulations, welcome to motherhood…”

Both you and Tony give Peter an amused look.

Peter blushes, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t read it.” He lets out a soft, awkward laugh.

You smile at him genuinely as you chuckle. “Don’t sweat it kid… Now, does anyone know when I can get out of here? I’m dying for a cheeseburger.”

“I’ll let the doctor know you're up and we can go from there.” Tony gives you a pat on the shoulder before getting up from the bed and moving towards the door. “Com’ on Pete, let's give her some privacy so she can change.”

Peter nods, following after your dad. “Later y/n!”

“Later Pete.”

3rd person, Bucky’s perspective

“I fucked up.” Bucky admits as he walks into his shared apartment.

Steve, from the couch hears Bucky come in. “Bucky what the hell happened? Is y/n ok?” He jumps up from his spot and makes his way over to Bucky.

Bucky furrows his brows. “Haven’t you talked to Stark?”

“No.” Steve replies. “The only person I’ve heard from all night is you when you told me that y/n was in an accident and that you were at the hospital.”

“She…” Bucky pauses, debating on how to relay the information. “She left with this guy, some actor… he had drugged her and took her to a motel.” Bucky notices Steve clench his fists.

“Did he-“

“No.” Bucky responds immediately. “I got there just in time.”

Steve sighs, visibly relaxing. “Thank goodness. How is she doing?”

“She's fine. She’s pissed at me but fine.”

Steve groans. “What’d you do now?”

“I yelled at her...Basically said it was her fault.” Bucky admits.

“Why the hell would you do that?!” Now Steve is pissed. “She’s been nothing but nice to you and all you do is treat her like trash!” Steve starts to rant.

“I know, ok! I messed up and now I don’t know what to do!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Why do you even care? You act like you hate her.”

Bucky groans. “I don’t hate her! Look, I don’t know why but I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s so sweet and perfect and beautiful! I guess I was just pissed because I knew I could never have her! So acted like an ass to make her hate me so the feelings would go away. But it didn’t work, and I only yelled at her this morning because I was so upset with myself for not being there to protect her sooner.”

“You’re an idiot, Barnes.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “And I want to fix it. I don’t expect her to ever want to be with me after the way I’ve been acting, but I’d like to at the very least let her know I’m sorry.”

“Maybe start with saying you’re sorry.”

“I don’t think she's going to want to listen to anything I have to say.”

“Then write a note.” Steve suggests. “And attach it to a pack of sour gummy worms.”

“Gummy worms?”

“She loves them. Give her some of those and she might accept your apology.”

Bucky nods. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well she loves Star Wars…”

When Bucky heard y/n had called the Avengers to a meeting, he was surprised to say the least… and a little nervous. Was she going to demand he be kicked out? Not that he will put up a fight, he knows he deserves it.

“Any idea what this is about?” Sam, who is sitting next to Bucky at the table in the meeting room, asks.

Before bucky can respond, y/n walks in, not an ounce of unease shown in her presence.

The Avengers all stop murmuring, giving y/n there full attention.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. I’m not going to pussy-foot around it. It’s going to come out to everyone eventually so I thought it would be best that it comes from me. Last night an actor at the party drugged me, took me to a motel, and attempted to rape me.” She doesn't even hesitate to say it. “I’m fine, he was stopped in time and arrested. No, I will not be talking about it further or answering any questions. If you’re upset, talk about it to someone who’s not me.” She pauses, looking over the faces of everyone in the room, excluding Bucky. “You’re all dismissed.”

Y/n leaves the room, leaving the team to sit and absorb the information just dropped on them.

Before y/n can get too far away, Bucky follows after her, rushing down the hall to catch up to her.

“Y/n wait!”

“I already said I’m not talking about it.” She continues walking down the hall.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky shouts, before she is too far away to hear him.

Y/n surprisingly stops and turns around. “You’re only sorry because you pity me, not because you actually mean it.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x stark!reader #fanfiction

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heavymetalover · 4 years

Text

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

{i imagined scruffy sojourn michael w this one but i left the description kind of open so yall can imagine whichever teehee}

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: DADDY KINK DUH, smut, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!michael, hickies, rough sex.

WC: 5.5k

A/N: ive done the unforgiven… omg.

this is a different format from my other stuff. i didnt see anyone doing this and yall know me and my daddy issues I HAD TO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE anon me, message me, whatever, if you want more parts cuz im down.

~~~~

You had an average run-of-the-mill life with your mom. The two of you lived in a sizable suburban Los Angeles estate; your mom worked for most of her waking hours to keep you comfortable and you worked your ass off to stay in your top college. You had a few friends that would pop into your life when your mom left town, a few boyfriends here and there, even your mom dated around. Everything felt normal until Michael came into the picture.

Your mom has been dating Michael for a few months now, but every time he’s around he brings an eerie feeling along with him. Despite being nearly half her age, he has the soul of somebody from the eighteen hundreds. The way he composes himself, how he speaks with the utmost confidence and how his stares linger too long; his glacial blue eyes always watch you like he can see right through your clothes.

You’ve been skeptical of him since the day you met him. When you shook his hand and accidentally removed one of his large rings, he nonchalantly told you to keep it. You decided to sell the huge diamond-encrusted Cartier ring and use the twenty thousand dollars to help pay for college.

Since then you’ve avoided the two of them in protest of their relationship. You knew it was juvenile to evade them, but the man turned you on more than you’d like to admit. His soft-waved blonde hair, fluffy lips, jawline for days, prominent cheekbones, and how can you forget the eyes… Everything about him looked planned, like he was designed to be flawless.

On a mundane weekend morning, your mom calls you from downstairs. “Y/n!” her voice echoes through the halls.

You stop reading your favourite book and take out an earbud. “Yeah?!” you yell back, looking up from the pages for a moment and waiting for her to say something else, but the house is silent. You pretend to ignore her call and go back to the story.

“Y/n!” your mom yells again.

You sigh and drop your book, rolling off of your bed and skipping down the stairs to see what fresh hell awaits. As you approach your mom, who’s opening her mouth to call you again, you smell something unusual. Something you haven’t smelt since your dad left. Cologne.

“Honey, he’s here,” your mom whispers to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You try turning away to run back to your room, but your mom stops you. “Can you be nice for once, please?” she begs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with,” you groan and shimmy her hand off of your shoulder.

Michael works at the dining table, setting up three plates and utensils. You’re planted to the ground in awe, you’ve never had to eat dinner with the two of them before. It crosses your mind that they must be confronting you about bypassing them these past few months, your fight or flight response is already kicking in.

Michael looks up at you, finally acknowledging you and capturing you in his ocean blue eyes with a nanosecond of contact. Your mom moves in between the two of you and takes some food out of a paper bag. “Michael and I wanted all of us to eat dinner together,” she skips to stand beside him. You widen your eyes at her and cross your arms in objection. She widens her eyes back, you can practically hear her nagging you to be polite.

Michael puts his arm around your mom. “Your mother and I thought it best for us to… start acting like a family,” he says.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t hold back your smile. “A family?” you laugh. You purse your lips and start walking backwards, aching to escape Michael’s spell. “Mmm, I think I’ll pass,” you turn around to start walking away.

“Y/n,” your mom snaps. You stop in the middle of a step and twist back towards them, taking small, reluctant steps to approach their little function. “We have something to tell you,” she says and immediately after, vaults her hand out to you.

You take it hesitantly and look at her, still trying to figure them out and failing. “What?” you ask.

“No, honey, look at it,” she rolls her eyes, “look at my hand.”

You gawk at her hand, her third finger is dressed in a huge diamond ring. It looks big enough to pay off your whole house. You unintentionally let out a dramatic gasp and drop her hand, she continues to hold it up for you. “It’s the bloodiest diamond he could find in the LA area,” she explains, “We’re in love.” She smiles and places her hand on Michael’s chest, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. He gifts a small kiss on her lips.

You scoff and shake your head. Any tension that you felt from Michael has dissolved. He’s been dating your mom for five months, five fucking months. Who does he think he is? Are they both nuts? “You’re joking, right?” you ask, completely stunned by how brash the whole situation is. “Are you guys pranking me?”

Michael grins at you, it makes you melt and you hate yourself for it. “Call me daddy,” he sneers.

----

It’s a quaint Wednesday evening when you decide to take a break from studying and grab a snack. You’re scrolling through Tumblr when you walk out of your room and smash your face against a sturdy chest. “Jesus!” you gasp, looking up at Michael standing in front of your door; one of his hands is in a fist, ready to knock on your door, while the other is behind his back. “You scared the shit out of me!” You playfully push his chest away from you, trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He drops his fist as he stumbles back slightly. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since they announced their engagement. Michael moved in about a month ago and it’s been hard to ignore him since he sits, day in day out, typing away on his laptop in your living room.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “But I have to admit it’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to act casual as if he hadn’t just knocked the wind out of you completely. “Did my mom come home from work or something? She send you here?” you ask, declining his attempts to meet your eyes, instead you stare at his lapel.

“No, I got you something,” he explains, wiggling the surprise behind his back.

“Another Cartier ring?” you joke. “Oh, or is it a new girlfriend? Because that would be even better.” His eyes find the ceiling in annoyance and it feels rewarding, you were starting to think he couldn’t be cracked. “Did you get me an apartment, so I don’t have to live with another failed marriage?”

“No,” he snaps back, starting to sound impatient with your infantile attitude. You straighten up at his belligerent tone. He slides into your room, keeping the gift hidden behind his back. “It’s thoughtful, something I know you’d like, but… if you’re hellbent on loathing my existence, why should I be so kind?” he asks. He somehow manages to speak reserved, yet impossibly intimidating. Every word that leaves his lips demands to be heard, it sends chills down your spine. “Right?” he prompts.

You take in a breath. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, mostly because you’re curious to see what the present is. Another part of you is getting bored of acting like a hermit and going days without social interaction. “Obviously it feels weird; I barely know you and you’re becoming my dad and you moved in, everything just seems so fast,” you explain yourself. You saunter back into your room to meet him. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry, Michael. Seriously.”

He takes a step closer to you, you’re only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his body and fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. “We’ll work on ‘Michael’ later,” he replies. You’re about to question what he means by that when he takes the present out from behind his back. He holds a black bag in between the two of you and you immediately recognize the store. “I heard you on the phone with your friend about something red, lacey, with a bow. I think I found it…”

You take the Victoria’s Secret bag from him without saying a word. You have no words to say. You don’t know if you should thank him or refuse the gift or slap him for listening to your personal conversations. Your mind races wondering if you’d gossiped about his good looks on the phone with your friend.

You silently pry open the bag and paw through the lingerie, mountains of cute panties and bras, digging through things you were never able to afford but always wanted. And, of course, Michael bought the red, lacey one piece you were talking about with your friend. There’s a stillness in the room as you look through the bag. “You bought all of this for me?”

“Yeah, I can’t see how your mom would fit into any of those.”

All of the pieces are just your size, it’s the perfect gift… just not from your stepdad. “How did you even know my size?” you stop looking at the bag and make the mistake of falling into his eyes.

“I went through your clothes,” he carelessly shrugs.

You drop the present by your side. “You went through my clothes, like, my lingerie?”

He slowly nods his head, acting as if it isn’t strange for him to invade your privacy how he did. You huff and he begins looking agitated with you again. “Would you like if I returned all this stuff? I thought you’d like it.”

“I do,” you mutter and kick the bag away from him, you’re not jeopardizing this gift with your uncontrollable sass.

“Good,” he spits back.

“Just… don’t think you can just buy yourself into the family,” you mock. You catch yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest to give yourself a breast lift, but you don’t stop.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. He looks down at your cleavage and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. “You have quite the collection of lingerie you keep hidden at the bottom of your drawers,” he observes, “like a dirty guilty pleasure.” You peer up at him, again trying to read him, and again failing. He uses one of his fingers to hook onto the thin fabric of your shirt, your tits are practically pouring out and begging to be the center of attention. He tugs at the fabric, looking under your shirt and inspecting your boobs suffocated in one of your intimate Victoria’s Secret pickups. “Kitten’s all dressed up?” he whispers, his fingertips graze the embroidered details.

You bite your lip, anticipating the second he’ll rip the bra off your chest. “It’s all for you,” you tease, pushing your tits together even more, “I’m always dressed up for you, Michael.”

He breathes in, groaning under his breath. “I thought I told you,” his voice is low and intimidating, “call me daddy.”

You’re drinking in a breath of his cologne, shifting onto the tips of your toes to give his soft lips a rugged kiss, when the sound of keys rattling downstairs takes you out of it. Michael still stares at you, his fingers continue to linger over your clothed tits. “Michael!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You look up at him with fear in your puppy dog eyes and Michael grins. He shoots you one last, knowing, glance before leaving your room. He leaves you without saying two words. “Yeah, babe,” he answers your mom, closing your bedroom door behind him.

What the fuck just happened?

----

Holding back your gags, you grasp your friend’s hair as she projectile vomits peach schnapps into an expensive toilet bowl. Her phone rings in her pocket and you huff, digging through the pockets of the leather jacket you lent her and pulling out a vibrating iPhone. You pick up the phone with an ill “hello”, answering too late and looking down at the screen. She must’ve ordered an Uber a while ago, there’s a ton of notifications that the driver’s outside. “Oh shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Your ride is here!” you yell at her, trying to pull her onto her feet.

“What?!” she yells into the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes and lean down beside her ear, “I said, your ride is here!” you yell over the thumping music.

Your friend stumbles around, trying to stand up in her six-inch heels. You pull her onto you and her head rests on your shoulder, she goes limp against you. “Stop, come on!” you shout over the music. “You have to g-”

You’re cut off by your friend puking onto an expensive mini dress you bought for tonight’s party. This shindig was supposed to be a fun little escape from your school life, your home life, Michael, all your stress. You expected to make new friends, meet hot guys, but instead you came an hour late and have been nursing your friend the whole night. You’re seriously going to kick her ass tomorrow.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, her breath reeking of throw up.

You toss her arm over your shoulder and start walking her out of the bathroom. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow, you know that?” you say in her ear and she lets out a small, apologetic whimper.

A cute guy who was talking you up earlier approaches the two of you. He holds two red cups in his hands and shrugs when he sees you. “What the fuck, y/n? You disappeared on me!” he talks to you over the bass-y music. “I got our drinks!” he shakes the cups in his hands and hands one over to you, as if completely ignoring your drunken friend hanging off of your side.

Your friend staggers, nearly bringing you down with her. The cute guy helps you pick her back up and you sigh, annoyed at how much of a disaster your night has turned into. He knits his eyebrows at your sour attitude, then finding the vomit on your dress, he looks back up at you. You see his doe eyes grow apologetic when he mouths a weak “sorry” to you, stepping out of your way. You shake your head as if telling him it’s fine; you just wish you had more time to get to know him.

You continue dragging your friend along your side and hear someone call out your name from behind you. You whip your head around; your hair irritatingly sticks to your lip-gloss. “Hope to see you again!” he calls after you. You nod in his direction and resume walking your friend, who is nearly passed out on your shoulder, to the front door. When you walk out of the house, you’re assaulted with the smell of salt water. Despite this night turning into one of the most frustrating nights of your life, at least you got to visit a Malibu beach house.

A big, black SUV is parked outside of the house and you rush her to the door. Opening the backseat and stuffing her inside the seats in the back. “The app says where you’re taking her, right?” you ask the Uber driver, your voice sounds muted from being struck by loud music all night.

He nods and reads out her address. “Y/n,” your friend slurs, gripping onto your arm with all her strength, “you’re a really nice… you’re a… you’re a really good friend, you know that? Like, seriously,” she pauses to hiccup, “thank you for taking care of me tonight.” Her words are so slurred that it’s nearly impossible to make out her compliment, but you just nod in hopes it’ll get her to let go. She drops your arm and hands you your pricey leather jacket, bunched up in a ball, before shutting the van door.

You throw on your jacket, protecting yourself from the ocean’s breeze, and watch the van drive away when you notice a familiar car parked across the street. The SUV blocked a four-seater Maserati parked on the other side of the road. Michael’s sedentary in the driver’s seat with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You balance yourself on your ridiculously tall heels and stomp over to his car. He doesn’t even see you coming, he’s leaned back in the driver’s seat reading a book.

You crouch down and knock on the glass of his window. His eyes meet yours for a second and he slowly rolls down the window. A mob of cigarette smoke escapes the car and he chucks the stick onto the pavement. You’re both quiet for a few moments, the crashing ocean waves fills up the silence. “How did you know I was here?” you ask.

He finally puts down his book and looks at you. “Just trying to be a good dad,” he responds.

“Ugh, ew,” you groan. “You’re my step dad.”

He adjusts his seat to start driving, his eyes looking you up and down as he does. “Looks like your night went a little… rough,” he jokes and nods towards the puke on your dress. “You need a ride?”

You look back at the party. As much as you wanted to live up the night, you’re already in too much of a bad mood to go back in there. It doesn’t help that your new dress is covered in puke, too. You turn back around to Michael, he awaits your answer with a cocked brow. “You can’t tell mom,” you sigh, walking around the car to get into the passenger’s seat. The luxury car’s butterfly doors obnoxiously open up for your entry. “Not a word,” you assure him as you slide into the leather seat.

He starts up the car and one of his Led Zeppelin albums begins to play. “I picked you up at the library,” he quips.

He starts driving along the empty coast and you decide to skip the seatbelt, you don’t want to dirty his car with your friend’s retch. His eyes glance over to your seat for a moment, he notices you second guessing the seatbelt and puts a hand on your thigh. You look up at him and intuitively try to tempt him, biting your bottom lip and batting your lashes. “I’ll protect you if we crash,” he whispers, his fingers lightly caress your thighs.

You put your hand on his and slide him further up your leg. He keeps one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but when his eyes do meet yours, it makes all the nerves in your core feel like a wave pool. Your dress is short enough for him to reach your panties without any hassle. Your hand is on his when his fingers begin to rub your pussy, still dressed in a pair of panties he bought you. “Baby’s already wet for daddy,” he says under his breath, kneading your clit in small circles.

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies, you’ve never felt a nervousness so intense before. A rush of thoughts suddenly violates your mind, you try to shut them up but they keep coming. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re disgusting for enjoying this. His fingers have been in your mom before.

You dig your nails into his skin and pull his hand away from you; bending over in your seat and clutching onto your stomach. You only had one drink tonight, you shouldn’t be feeling this sick.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, “are you okay?”

“I think I need air,” you grumble through the sudden sickness. “Can you pull over?”

Michael only takes a minute to find an empty parking lot on the beach and pull into it. You get out of the car without saying a word to him and take off your heels, throwing them into the backseat of his car. You’re already starting to feel your anxiety subside as you shuffle through the cool sand and pace towards the erratic waves crashing on shore. This is one of the reasons you loved LA, the tons of tiny, empty beaches. The ocean at night, and how it constantly smelt like salt water, how it relaxed you.

The breeze blew through your hair, a part of you felt like running into the crashing waves, but a voice took you out of it. “Y/n!” Michael called behind you, over the sound of the whistling wind. He trudges in the sand to get to you; you faintly snicker at his dedication. “Are you okay?” he asks once he’s closer to you.

When you see him, face glowing in the moon light, golden locks blowing in the ocean breeze, face twisted with concern, it all settles. Everything feels like it’s in the right place. Your stomach, although still turning with butterflies, no longer feels sick.

There’s a pause between the two of you; both of you deciding to admire each other instead of the beautiful ocean view beside you. Then, it feels like everything clicks. Like the two of you mentally communicate your longing for each other, your desire. Both shutting your eyes and diving in for a kiss at the same time.

His lips smash against yours, sucking your face, and his tongue quickly invades your mouth. He kisses you like he’s craved your lips for years, passionately cleaning up your mouth with his eager tongue.

Michael works your jacket off of your shoulders and you shimmy it to the ground. He unzips your dress, the zip running along your naked back sends a shiver crawling down your spine. He abandons your lips for a moment to pull down your dress, exposing your bare chest and expensive panties. You’re too lost in lust to even realize you’re half naked on a public beach.

You’re both panting and releasing all of the built-up sexual tension. He stands back up and kisses you again, his hands cup your ass and he gives an echoed smack; his fingers creep down your legs. He grabs onto the back of your thighs and hoists you up, you lightly yelp into his mouth and wrap your legs around him. His large hands hold you up and he leans down, resting you onto the jacket you’ve thrown onto the sand.

Once you’re laid down, he begins rubbing your pussy again. His cold rings adding a different sense of pleasure as he rubs you into entropy. He slides your feeble panties to the side and spits down on your cunt, shoving his finger inside you. You moan at the sudden intrusion, taking in a breath of the salt-scented air. “That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers, adding in another finger, “I want to hear you moan for daddy.”

You take in a breath and whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, slowly pulsing against your g-spot. He touches you as if he already knows which parts make you crumble. “Ooh yeah, daddy,” you cry and grind on his fingers, pushing him deeper inside you, “right there.”

“You’re my dirty little slut, huh?” he asks, gliding in another finger. Your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Little girl likes to get fucked by her daddy?” He adds another finger, completely stretching you out. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you can’t reply. “I asked you a question.”

You meet his cold eyes for a second, before you throw your head back in pleasure. “Yes!” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise in your body. Your sensitive cunt throbs under his gluttonous fingers, persistently fucking you and begging for more. “Yes, oh, keep fucking me just like that, daddy!”

His fingers find a rhythm inside of you, constantly bringing you to the brink of climax and slowing down. “Such a dirty little girl,” he teases and spits on your soaking cunt. He pulls out his fingers and holds them to your lips. You grab his hand and suck on his long fingers, tasting the cool metal rings mixed with the sweet taste of your pussy.

You sit up and lock your lips with his again. Both, you and Michael, unbutton his shirt; you want to feel his flesh against yours as soon as possible. When you get to the bottom, you slide your hands up his body and square the shirt off of his shoulders. His perfect, porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. You want to appreciate it for a moment, but he’s already unbuckling his belt.

He’s propped on his knees, unzipping his black pants and bringing them down to pull his erection out of his briefs. It springs out when you start grabbing for it, he moves back and clicks his tongue. “My greedy little girl,” he mocks, “you don’t get a taste until daddy says you do.”

He pushes you down with one of his hands. His touch is so delicate, yet so commanding. Everything he does is done with conviction and a power that only you could dream of, he is inherently dominant over you. He strokes his long, girthy length over you, you’re practically drooling at the sight. He spits on himself and rubs it into the head. “Spit on it,” he orders.

You sit up and weakly spit on the tip of his cock; it’s too late when you notice your mouth is dry from nervousness. He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic, you can’t even spit on me right,” he sneers, divorced from the nasty words leaving his lips. He presses his dick against your folds and your fingers curl into your jacket, awaiting the moment he plunges into you. “Say the word, baby girl, say you want me,” he’s lingering at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your pussy is beating against his hard cock, “please dad.”

He pushes his head inside you and you grab his arms for support, digging your nails into his skin. He’s so thick, you’ve never felt something so large obtruding your tight cunt. He moves in slowly, reading your stunned facial expressions to see if he should continue stuffing himself inside of you. You let out tiny weeps as he digs deeper into your hole, but you can’t manage much more.

Michael thrusts himself into you until he’s balls deep, even he can’t help but groan. “My little girl is so fucking tight,” he grunts under his breath. He starts to hammer himself into you, going so deep that you feel like pushing him back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. His cock is so thick that it hits every nerve you could imagine; it’s hard to gather a single word.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reticence. “My innocent baby’s never felt a real cock before, huh?” he taunts, still pounding his length into you. You open your mouth to speak, but settle on shaking your head. One distinct tear runs down the side of your face while stifled cries pass your trembling lips with each time his balls smack into your ass. “You’re taking me like a good fucking girl,” he admires, “my good little slut.”

He lifts up your leg and rests your foot on his shoulder. You’re twisted onto your side, trying to look over your shoulder to see how vigorously he pounds into your cunt. Michael’s new positioning hits exactly in your g-spot, you feel your leg shaking under his grip. “H-holy shit,” your voice trembles, you let out a built-up breath. “Keep going, daddy! Right there, right there, I’m so close,” you’re begging, voice is flooded with desperation. You don’t care how childish you sound, you want nothing more than to come all over Michael’s big dick. “Don’t move, please, please,” you grab onto his arm again.

Tears overflow your eyes when you look into his. Just seeing his determined light blue eyes peering back at you makes you unravel even more. He has no remorse for how weak he’s making you, how vulnerable you’ve become, his unmistakable dominion turns you on.

He listens to your wails, finally granting you the satisfaction you’ve been begging for and plows into your g-spot. Your grip on him gets tighter as he thrusts harder, you’re almost certain he’s going to leave some swelling deep inside your cunt. “Your dick is so, fucking, good,” you breathe in between thrusts.

Michael doesn’t give up, keeping up the same pace and fucking you exactly how you want him to. You’re about to praise his long cock some more when you’re thrown into climax. You try looking back up at him, but you can’t say a word; your mouth hangs wide open with nothing but small chokes croaking out. He can see how dazed he’s made you and shoves your face into the ground, pushing your nose against the leather of your jacket. “You’re going to take daddy’s cock like a good little girl,” he seethes, suffocating your head into your jacket. “Don’t come,” he demands.

He continues punching your g-spot with his huge cock, you feel your pussy spasming under his rough thrusts. He holds both of your arms back, shifting you into doggy-style. His balls slap against your sore clit and you feel yourself starting to ejaculate. “Fuck!” you scream into the breeze of the empty beach. Your cunt twitches and gushes its balmy juices all over Michael’s hard cock.

He slows down his pace and pulls your arms up towards him, you feel his heaving chest against your back. “What did I just fucking say?” he fumes, tugging your arms even closer to him. “Answer me.”

“You told me not to come,” you answer in a syrupy, naïve voice.

He grabs both of your tits to push you flush against him, maintaining his rough thrusts into your cunt. “That’s right,” he whispers in your ear, “baby didn’t fucking listen.” He smacks your tits with both of his hands, striking you hard. You jump at how ruthless he hits you, it makes your stomach flutter again. His full lips lug along your neck. “Remember who you belong to,” he speaks into your neck, sending an iciness throughout your entire body.

Michael digs his teeth into your skin, sucking up your flesh while he continues massaging your breasts, pinching at the hard peaks your nipples have formed. He sucks so hard it stings, you wonder how that would feel on your pussy. His love bite begins to hurt and you shift your head away from him, he snickers. “Who do you belong to?” he whispers, lips chafing the shell of your ear.

He pinches your nipples even harder and you sob in pleasure. “Mmm, you,” you respond, looking over your shoulder to give his lips a frail kiss. “I belong to you, daddy.”

He takes in a deep breath as if shaking off your spell and regaining his confidence. He pushes you onto the ground again and goes back to fucking you like a ragdoll. “You better remember that,” he breathes, mercilessly pummeling himself into you again.

He holds both of your arms back once more, driving himself into you so hard that you’re concerned about cervix bruising. His pace slows down a bit and you look back at him, his mouth drapes open and he stares down at the back of your head. He pushes you away as he orgasms, savagely shoving your face back into the ground, as you feel his warm seed spilling inside your wet cunt. Michael groans from deep within his chest, letting out a long sigh when he’s done. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, “fuck, you sexy bitch.”

You let out a little giggle at this and he joins. He hauls himself out of you and you feel all of your muscles relax. You shift onto your back, looking up at Michael in disbelief. You’re too caught up in euphoria to comprehend what just happened. All you can think of in this moment is how fucking good he was. Even Michael has a dumbfounded look on his face.

He shakes his head and liberates a nervous laugh, “We’re so fucked up.”

You can say that again.

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