#space invaders part ii | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

telvess · 8 months

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RoR: How they seek attention (Poseidon, Loki, Heracles) 🔞

You, gals and guys, gave me such positive feedback under the previous post with this theme, so I decided to write part II

Poseidon

Poseidon with his I’m perfect, I don’t need anyone mindset is a bit tricky, so you have to be especially attentive, because if you miss the opportunity, you will have to wait until the next time.

If you spot a horny Poseidon, you still need to say or do something to trigger him. He requires it, because his pride holds him back.

You were minding your own business in the library, looking for an interesting book that you hadn’t read yet, when suddenly you felt a chill run down your spine. You froze for a split second, before going back to looking at the book covers as if nothing had happened. You smiled to yourself as you heard the sound of the floor creaking, and then a shadow fell on the bookcase in front of you. — Were you looking for me? — you asked, flipping through a random book. You weren’t interested in reading anymore. You just knew why Poseidon approached you, he basically pierced you right through with his blue eyes. There was a silent expectation hidden in this gesture. — I may have been… — he said, indifferently. Poseidon stood too close to you to ignore. But when you looked at him over your shoulder, he didn’t say a single word. — Do you find this book interesting? — you asked, showing him the cover. — No — you heard. You couldn’t help but giggle. You put the book down and picked up another one, but this time you cocked your head slightly so that your bare neck was in Poseidon’s sight. No reaction. — You know… when I show you my neck like that, it means I want you to kiss it — you advised, still feigning interest in the book. — Oh? — finally something changed in his voice, your provocation worked — Such shamelessness, unworthy of a goddess. You snorted. — Say whatever you want, but you have to admit: it’s a very good neck, even for a goddess. He would never deny that. After all, he was the one who chose you to be his wife. You’re the one who stands by his side, as an equal. You were perfect. To deny this is to deny himself. You felt his cool fingers on your neck, slowly heading towards a clasp that was holding your dress together. Once that was undone, Poseidon removed the straps from your shoulders and watched as they slipped and stopped on your bent hands. Your cheeks got warm at that bold act. Poseidon’s hands touched your waist - causing you to held your breath - as they moved around it, invading the space beneath the fabric of the dress and reached your navel. Your body trembled with excitement, your husband chuckled right next to your ear. Your eyes met. — It seems that every part of your body is perfect — he said, calmly, but you saw in his eyes that he was eager for much more. — Even my mouth? — you loved to provoke him. The corners of his lips twitched and his fingers tightened at your skin. — I can keep that occupied — he assured. Poseidon leaned towards you, his lips felt so soft - such a contrast to his personality - and it always surprised you. The book fell from your hands, and as your hands fell alongside your body, the dress ended up on the floor. You slowly tasted his lips, feeling the tension build in your naked body as Poseidon’s hands caressed every part of it.

Loki

Loki would announce very loud how bored he is, it doesn’t matter if you’re busy or it’s middle of the night. His priority is himself. And „boredom” is the secret code for „let’s do stuff”.

He always appears out of the blue and because he is the biggest trickster in the universe, it’s really hard to take his demands seriously.

How delightful was your bed; cozy and warm… You couldn’t keep your eyes open. There was darkness and sweet silence around you. Then… why were you awake again? You frowned and forced yourself to raise your head. Something tickled your forehead. — What the-! — you screamed, looking up. — Hello! — said Loki, loosely levitating above you. He presented you his naughty smile that you barely saw in the dark. His face was so close to yours that his hair were touching your forehead. — W-what are you doing here! It’s the middle of the night! — you shouted at him. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, as if you were the unbearable one here. — I’m bored… — he mumbled. — Uh, you always are! — you sat up straight — Besides… did you try, I don’t know, sleep? — Booooriiiiing! — he yelled and laid down next to you. His face was better visible in the faint light coming through the curtains now. — I was thinking… — he laid eyes on your body hidden under the blanket — maybe you could entertain me? Something had awakened in your body. You always have to be careful with Loki, because every gesture or word could be a trap or at best have a hidden meaning, so now you looked at his pretty eyes with a dose of suspicion, but… well, what eyes could tell you? — How exactly? — you placed your hands on the blanket. — I’ll tell you. First take that… — he pointed at your pyjamas — … off. At first you didn’t even process his words, then you took it as a joke, but Loki’s expression didn’t lighten up, he didn’t burst into laughter, he remained serious, so you finally understood the situation you found yourself in. And… You snorted. — Very romantic — you said, covering your lips in a sudden bout of shyness. Loki raised his eyebrows, but his lips didn’t even twitch, which - for some damn reason - you found hot. — Oh, come on! We both know you want me. Enough of the stupid games already — he pouted.

You hoped it was too dark for him to notice your red cheeks. Truth to be told, he was right, but how did he find out? You never let your guard down around him. And what’s more important - now you two were alone, in bed, and you basically had him in the palm on your hand.

— Pff, you aren’t my type — you found yourself saying. Such an opportunity could never happen again and yet you decided to play hard to get… In the name of your stupid pride? Great move. Your body went limp once you realized what you had just done. — It’s not a problem — you heard, but didn’t react to Loki’s voice. You were focused too much on your self-flagellation — What’s your type, girl? — you jumped in fright when you heard Thor’s voice. How did he come into your ro-… oh. When you finally noticed Thor’s massive body next to yourself, you understood what Loki was doing. Such a wide smile on Thor’s usually indifferent face seemed strange to you, almost unnatural. You burst into laughter and hid under a blanket. — How about this one? — asked Loki with his new, much deeper and scarier voice — Girl? — chills ran down your spine as you recognized who your companion was imitating. You peeked out from under the covers and saw terrifying figure of Odin next to you, who was just casually curling his hair with his finger. — Eww! Go back to yourself! — you commanded. Fake Odin gave you one last hateful glare and disappeared in purple puff of smoke. — That’s better — you rolled onto your side and so did Loki. You smiled to him and without any warning or permission, you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you. And you finally had them, these damn lips of his that always could find a way to annoys you, pissed you off or make you laugh. They tasted good, or perhaps that was the taste of success you had just accomplished. Whichever it was, you wanted so much more: your lips kissed his with a passion, greedily, as if you had gone amok. But Loki wouldn’t be himself if he let the good times last long. He moved away. Compared to you who was eager and ready like never before, Loki seemed concerned at best. That cooled the fire in your chest a little. — Na-ah — Loki wagged his finger at you — Do as I say. First - take that off — he commanded. At this point your protruding nipples made you feel uncomfortable, the fabric of pyjamas almost caused pain - you wanted nothing more than to obey his order - but you found just enough strength for one last comeback: — Do it yourself.

Heracles

Poor Herc, he doesn’t know how to tell you this, he’s too pure, so he’s stuck in an awkward situation. Prepare yourself to feel his eyes on you many times throughout the day to the point that someone has to pat him on the head to make him come to his senses.

At the end of the day, when you two are alone, Heracles MAY be a bit more direct - after all, man is at his limits - especially if you’re oblivious.

You sat at dressing table, untangling your braid and slowly getting ready for bed. The sound of the doors opening brought a smile to your face - Heracles had returned from his duties. — Hi — you said, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror. He smiled back — How was your day? You watched as he took off his archery chest protector and began to unbuckle belt of shoulder’s guard. He sighed. — Long — he admitted. That was unusual for Heracles to show any sign of tiredness. For as long as you could remember, he has always been full of vigour: it didn’t matter at how deep end he was thrown, he still managed to finish a task anyway. — How so? I thought you couldn’t wait to take care of the training soldiers… — Well, I couldn’t concentrate — Heracles admitted. Only then did you realize that his eyes still hadn't met yours. You frowned; something clearly was wrong. — Why? What kept you occupied? You had very poor control over your emotions, so the worry in your voice was very clear. Heracles froze for a moment as if he contemplated whether telling you the truth was a good option. — Well… you — you heard. You blinked a few times, confused. — Me? — you repeated. How it could be you? You wanted to ask but then you noticed Heracles’ cheeks turning red and understanding came to you on its own. You giggled when your man turned his back to you in a fit of embarrassment. — Oh… — you hugged him from behind. He was such a big man, yet so pure in the heart. You raised your head to see how red his ears were and giggled again. — Very funny — you heard his growl. — How are you more afraid to ask me that than face Ares and all his troops together is beyond me! You forced him to turn around. — I wasn’t… afraid, I j-just… I, well… ugh! — Heracles — you interrupted his babbling and forced him to look into your eyes. You pointed to your lips — Kiss me. He was much taller than you, even if you stood on tiptoe, so he had to led towards you. And he fulfilled your wish. Your lips met in a short, shy kiss. It always amazed you how someone that strong could be so gentle. That was one of many reasons you adored him so much. You smiled at him and grabbed his hand. — Now come — you pulled him to the bed — Sit down. Heracles’ eyes followed your hands as you massaged his wide chest, your fingers were caressing his sculpted muscles when you sat on his lap. You heard his heavy breathing and felt bulge that was growing between his legs. The air in the room became warmer as you two started kissing. Slowly at first, but soon you started losing yourself in to the passion and heat of the moment. You found yourself moaning into Heracles’ mouth when he suddenly grabbed your buttock and squeezed, and you had to break the kiss to catch a breath. There was no longer any shyness in Heracles’ eyes.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror poseidon #ror loki #ror heracles #ror poseidon x reader #ror loki x reader #snv poseidon #snv loki #snv heracles #ror heracles x reader #udj

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lalacliffthorne · 10 months

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🕯midnights pt. II🕯

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: azriel might be too much of a distraction after all

notes: the people have spoken, we got a part II. seriously though: it's honestly and completely blowing my mind how many people read my first posts here and liked them. like - truly; it's nuts, I really can't even wrap my head around it. it's always been hard for me to find the kind of people who would read what I'm cooking up, and I'm sure that any writer would agree that, while writing is the thing that keeps us alive, we fucking thrive off interactions and being able to talk about our babies and all their little details. and this is giving me that, and I'm so fucking thankful for that, so please; never ever be shy and just write to me, talk to me, it melts my little heart to hear from you and makes me just really fucking happy.

anyways, sorry for the rambling, here´s part II of midnights, it's pure fluff and I'm not even sorry

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I couldn't handle the distraction.

Not. In. The. Slightest.

I inwardly kicked myself as Azriel gently pushed me into the guest room and slipped his hand off my lips to close the door. The lock clicked softly, and my heart jumped into my throat.

This was a really bad idea.

At least Cassian's snoring was gone.

Azriel's bare chest brushed against my shoulder, and when I looked up at him, his gaze was slowly tracking over the little bits of evidence of me. The rumpled sheets on the obscenely huge bed, the jewellery strewn over the wooden dresser and the shoes kicked off next to the door. There was a clothing rack Mor had lent me next to the window leading out to the street that was stuffed with the clothes I had saved from the water damage in the bedroom, and my books. Dozens and dozens of books stacked next to the empty fireplace.

The shadowsinger threw me a look, and I smiled sheepishly. “They would've gotten wet.”

Azriel's lips twitched, and something hot washed over me as his dark eyes tracked over my face.

This was going to be a long night.

I wasn't sure what exactly it was that I had expected. Maybe that my heart wouldn't be able to stop skipping, that just Azriel's presence would be enough to make focusing on anything but him absolutely impossible, and that I would spend the rest of the night tense and regretting several life choices.

My legs growing tired had not been on the list.

Shifting lightly and leaning my knees to the side, I tried to focus on the book propped against my thighs.

I had curled up on one end of the small couch at the back window, a soft blanket draped over my bare legs and a pillow stuffed into my back. Azriel was sitting on the other end, his wings relaxed and folded comfortably, body leaned lazily into the cushions, his skin shimmering in the soft, warm light. His eyes moved slowly over the pages of the book propped against his knee, his brows smoothed over and one strand of his hair falling into his forehead.

For some reason, his presence wasn't throwing me off nearly as much as I had thought it would. His steady, even breaths weren't distracting but calming, his body only a few feet away radiating warmth and grounding steadiness.

Sure, my heart still went haywire whenever I looked at him for too long, some strange feeling surging in my chest. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was giddy, and comforting, and it made something bubble warmly in my chest, my breath hitching once in a while.

If only it wasn't for the fact that even with my legs pulled up towards my chest, my toes almost touched his thigh.

This couch wasn't meant for two people.

Would I stretch out my legs like they begged me to do, they would be draped over Azriel's lap, definitely invading what I considered personal space. It was the only reason I had not changed my position about half an hour ago, when my legs had slowly started to tingle uncomfortably, and had instead stayed frozen in my position.

Even though Azriel had not seemed to mind being close to me earlier, I didn't want to push it.

Ever since meeting him, I knew that for him, physical contact was - complicated. I had seen plenty of times when he had flinched away from it, mostly from strangers, as well meaning as they had been. He didn't seem to mind as much when it came from his friends, his family. In fact, I was pretty sure I had seen him lean into the way Rhys patted his shoulders or how the way he rolled his eyes when Cassian squeezed the living daylight out of him in a hug always looked half-hearted, his lips curving just barely in amusement, or how he let Mor mess with his hair and give him cheek kisses even though he glared at her.

I wasn't sure if he needed to trust a person to be able to accept physical contact or if it was something else entirely, but I didn't want to overstep. He looked so relaxed, calm, almost unguarded, it made something flicker in my chest.

I didn't give care if my legs turned numb if it meant he could stay like that for a little longer.

Shifting again, I barely suppressed the urge to grimace when there was a light sting in my thigh, my muscles aching.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes flicker up from his book and towards me and tried to keep my breathing even, gaze moving over the words on the page before me without quite catching their meaning.

The Spymaster returned his gaze back towards his book, and I slowly let myself relax, inwardly making a face when I shifted in my seat, trying to find another position that didn't make my legs feel quite so mangled.

Big, calloused hands closed around my ankles, and my heart jumped into my throat when they pulled on my legs, dragging me down over the cushions in one swift move and causing a soft squeak to leave me when my head hit the armrest.

My breath stumbled, my eyes darted up, widening slightly, and Azriel draped my legs over his lap, my calves pressing against his thighs when he tugged the blanket around my legs and threw me a look.

“You've been squirming for half an hour.” He mumbled the words like they were an explanation, only after a few seconds adding in a grumble: “It's driving me nuts.”

My breath hitched, stilling as I stared at him as he shifted a little in his seat, sinking back until he was reclined comfortably again, draping his forearms over my shins and turning his attention back towards his book. The blanket had ridden up, and his right arm was pressing against my bare leg, but Azriel didn't seem to give a shit about personal space or physical contact as he pulled my legs closer, his right hand slipping under the blanket to gently close around my calf and hold it in place.

One corner of Azriel's lips tipped upwards a little, and without looking away from the pages, he mumbled, amusement lacing his deep, low voice: “You're staring.”

I blinked, swallowing against the sudden tightness in my throat as something fluttered in my chest, high and wild, and Azriel threw me a look, a twinkle in his amber eyes that was full of dark mischief when he raised an eyebrow lightly.

“Too much distraction?”

My lips parted in disbelief, and Azriel's lips curved like he was holding back a smirk. Then he turned his attention back towards his book.

I stared at him, gaping lightly as my heart skipped high and a ridiculously wide smile slowly stretched over my face.

You're on.

Slumping back into the cushions, I picked up my book that had fallen into my lap when Azriel had dragged me towards him, flicking back to the page I had left it. Snuggling into the cushion, my eyes moved over the page, not processing a word as my mind started working. Staring. Distraction.

Well, I could just –

Shifting, I started to tug the blanket off my legs, keeping my eyes on the pages of my book as my brows furrowed lightly in focus. Leaning up a little to pull the blanket off my feet, I dropped it onto the ground, stretching my bare legs before settling back into the cushions.

It was a long shot, but –

Azriel threw me a look, and I caught the second he blinked, his grip around my calf changing. His eyes, looking like molten gold in the warm light, moved over my legs, my shirt pushed up from him dragging me down over the cushions, now barely reaching the top of my thighs. A muscle in his jaw shifted sharply, his piercing gaze tracking up my shins, over the small scar on my knee where I had fallen as a child, up my thighs –

"Too much distraction?”

Azriel's gaze snapped up, and I lost the fight against my twitching lips when it met mine, a wide cheeky smile slowly spreading over my face, bright and mischievous, and Azriel stared at me, stared as a twinkle spread through his eyes, growing and growing just like the crease digging into his cheek.

Giggling softly under my breath, I turned my eyes back onto my book, focusing back on the pages as my heart skipped against my ribs.

Or, I tried to focus. But Azriel's hand had slipped up my leg, now resting on my shin, his scarred skin rough and warm on mine as his thumb started to slowly brush over my skin. And suddenly, nothing about him was calming anymore.

Trying to keep my breathing even, I barely suppressed the urge to swallow as I stared at the pages of my book.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the shadowsinger's lips quirk upwards.

Damn it.

Breathing out soundlessly, I tried to focus back on my book. Azriel´s thumb was slowly swiping over my skin, almost absentmindedly. It made my throat close up as something skipped against my ribs, and I shifted without even realizing.

Azriel's grip around my leg tightened, and he mumbled: “Stop that.”

“Why; am I distracting again?” I felt my lips curve as I huffed, and Az looked like he had to bite back a smile, raising a brow at me.

“Are you done squirming?”

I breathed out before closing my book with a snap, holding it up and raising a brow at him. “This is boring.”

“That's because you're still only in the beginning.” The golden flecks in Azriel's eyes twinkled. “It picks up later.”

Grumbling, I let the book slip to the ground, dropping my head back against the armrest.

Blinking at the ceiling, I listened as my heart thrummed steadily against my ribs, something warm bubbling gently in my chest, giddy and warm and comfortable.

My eyes were just closing a little when suddenly, a thought struck me that made my heart miss a beat and jump into my throat as I widened my eyes.

“Shit.”

Azriel's eyes darted up when I scrambled to get to my feet, a crease forming between his brows as he watched me, his wings flaring slightly as tension rippled through his body.

“What?”

I turned to blink at him, his shoulders suddenly rigid and body straightening, like he was ready to jump into action.

“I just remembered I ate the last of Mor's cookies.”

Azriel stared at me. Then he huffed. His shoulders sank back, and he flopped into his seat and glared at me.

“I thought -” He broke off, breathing out as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, but his lips twitched like he suddenly had to hold back a laugh. Shaking his head, he looked back up at me, and my breath hitched when I saw the way his eyes began to twinkle.

“What?” I felt my brows furrow, and Azriel slowly started to smirk, creases forming in his cheeks and causing something to surge high in my chest.

“Nice knowing you.”

I deadpanned, and the shadowsinger chuckled, the deep sound almost making me sway on the spot as his eyes crinkled.

“Hey, at least I planned on making a new batch.” I glared at him, but it probably looked more than a pout, judging from the way Azriel's lips curved when he pushed himself to his feet.

“Alright, come on.” His eyes were bright with amusement when he fixed his pyjama pants that had slipped dangerously low on his hips, stepping towards me and placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch sent a jolt through my body, the weight of his palms gentle when he turned me around, mumbling: “Can't have Mor killing you over a jar of cookies.”

I tried to keep myself from swallowing when his breath fanned over the top of my head, his chest bumping into my back as he started to push me towards the door, and my heart skipped a little.

Frowning lightly, I slowed my steps and looked up at him over my shoulder.

“What are you -” My eyes flickered over his face, and I blinked before breathing out and smiling, crooked and a bit cheeky as I raised my brows at him. “You can stay up here and read, you know.”

“And miss you trying to navigate our kitchen?” Azriel's brows furrowed as he opened the door, but his lips curved when he threw me a look. “No book is that entertaining.”

I tried to elbow him into the ribs, but Azriel dodged the jab, smirking in a way that got my heart stuck in my throat.

Breathing out softly and soundlessly, I allowed him to gently nudge me onto the stairs leading down into the house.

At least I could put some reasonable distance between us in the kitchen.

The moon was shining through the windows as we made our way down the stairs, stars and galaxies twinkling on the dark sky. When we passed Cassian´s floor and a particularly loud snore echoed from his room, I had to muffle my giggle with the back of my hand, Azriel´s chest vibrating in my back like he was laughing silently.

The living room was dipped in half-light as we made our way over to the door leading to the kitchen. I pushed it open, shivering happily at the warmth washing over me, mixed with the sweet smell of the flowers sitting on the big table over at the window. The fae lights flickered to life, flooding the room with warm, golden light when Azriel closed the door behind him, and I slipped behind the kitchen island, stretching to open the two high cupboards that functioned as a pantry before pulling myself onto the counter. The marble was cold against my knees as I straightened up and stretched to get to the container of flour on the top shelf.

Squinting in concentration, I jumped lightly when Azriel sucked in a sharp breath.

“What the –“, he interrupted himself, and I could feel the air shift behind me like his shadows had brought him there, then a hand settled on my back, warm and steady as it pressed firmly, and my fingers almost slipped on the cabinet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Azriel sounded torn between amusement and irritation, and I grumbled: “Getting the flour. This place is built for fucking giants.”

Stretching a bit more, I could feel him shift closer, his hand pressing harder against my lower back, and my breath hitched.

Making a happy sound when my fingers closed around the container, I pulled it off the shelf. But I hadn't expected it to be quite so full and so heavy, and so I squealed softly when it dipped back, the lid sliding off, and I ducked my head when I could feel a rain of flour douse past me.

Quickly pushing the glass up and catching it with my free hand, I carefully slid it onto the counter before throwing a quick look over my shoulder – and feeling my eyes widen as my heart skipped once before stilling.

The flour had missed me, only dusting my dark shirt with a thin layer.

Azriel had not been as lucky.

The shadowsinger blinked. His lashes, usually long and dark, were now stark white, just like his hair and his face and the top of his shoulders and wings, all coated in a thick layer of powdery flour.

A soft snort left me. Then something began to bubble in my chest until I couldn't contain it anymore, and a laugh broke free, quickly turning into wild and unrestrained giggles.

A rumble grew in Azriel's chest as he started to scowl, taking a step back before shaking himself like a dog, sending flour everywhere in big white clouds. I coughed through my laughter, quickly holding onto the cabinets as my shoulders shook and I fought for air, my eyes becoming teary.

“I'm so sorry.” Laughing, I leaned my forehead against the shelves, my ribs beginning to ache as I tried to catch my breath, the image of the mighty shadowsinger, darkness personified, covered in white flour flashing before my eyes and making me break out into a new fit of giggles.

“I'm sorry, I'm –“ Breathing in deeply, I wiped over my cheeks, my belly aching as I looked over my shoulder, and Azriel blinked and turned his eyes away from my face. Scowling lightly, he raised a hand to run it over his shoulder, a thin white film of flour still dusting his tanned skin.

“Come here.” Snickering softly, I reached out a hand, and Azriel glared, but there was something in his eyes, bright and gleaming, as he slowly stepped forward until his side brushed against my ankle.

I motioned for him to drop his head, and something skipped high in my chest when Azriel's gaze dragged over my face for a second. Then he complied, and still giggling softly under my breath, I ran my hand over his shoulder, brushing off the visible remainders of flour before softly raking my fingers through his hair, shaking out the white dust.

Azriel´s shoulders grew rigid. His wings rustled before shuddering, and I quickly pulled my hand away, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Sorry,”, I mumbled, smiling softly and sheepishly, and my heart missed a step when I saw the muscles in Azriel's back shift.

The shadowsinger breathed out, his shoulders sinking back as he raised his head, and the soft twinkle in his eyes made me exhale soundlessly.

“Are you done up there or do I need to seek shelter?”

I snorted, turning back around with a wide grin. “Shut up.”

I could feel the coolness of shadows brush my feet, and when I threw a quick look over my shoulder, pools of darkness cleaned up the white dust on the floor. Azriel was still hovering behind me, shadows brushing over his wings to clean off the white residue before whispering and grazing down his back.

Pulling the sugar and the chocolate chips from the cupboard, I set them down next to the flour, then I pressed my hands onto the counter and slid off the surface. My bare feet hit the floor, and my heart missed a beat when my back hit Azriel´s chest.

Quickly taking a step forward, I looked over my shoulder to sent him a sheepish smile, but something got lodged into my throat when my eyes met Azriel's, trained onto my face, dark and deep in the light.

“Are you going to climb onto anything else or am I spared from more heartattacks?” His mumbled words were like a gentle shiver down my spine, his head dropped a little to look down on me as his eyes tracked over my face, something in them I couldn't quite decipher. There was still a smudge of flour on his cheek, and my fingers itched to brush it away.

My heart skipped softly, and I felt my lips curve until I was smiling, wide and a bit cheeky. “No, I think you're good.”

Azriel stared at me, hair tousled and shoulder muscles shifting, and I had to tear my eyes away because suddenly, my chest felt like it was about to burst.

“Alright, uhm,”, I scratched my forehead and tried to remember why I was standing in the kitchen, “I – need butter and eggs.” Turning around, I pulled both from next to the box with bread.

Azriel retreated as I started measuring the ingredients, pouring water into the kettle before placing it on the stove. I had just mixed together the eggs and the soft butter when his chest brushed against my shoulder and he placed a mug in front of me, steaming softly and spreading the smell of sweet berries.

Silence settled over the kitchen, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like it had earlier, up in the guest room. I could feel Azriel, feel his eyes on me, but it only made something flutter softly against my ribs, giddy and warm. The fae lights plunged the kitchen in a warm, cozy light while outside, the night sky glittered with stars and the oven hummed.

By the time I had rolled the dough into little balls and put the first tray into the oven, my braid had become loose. Pulling off the ribbon tying it off, I unravelled it, turning around as I brushed some strands behind my ear, and my eyes met Azriel's.

My breath hitched.

“What?”

The shadowsinger stared at me, and slowly, one corner of the his lips tipped up just barely, but there was something in his eyes when he pushed off the island, slowly stepping closer. It almost looked like he was battling something in his mind as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked and stretched out a hand, mumbling: “You've got a little –“

His thumb brushed over my cheek, gently rubbing over a spot next to the corner of my lips.

Suddenly, breathing felt difficult, something skipping so high in my chest, it reached my throat.

Swallowing harshly, I watched with my heart pounding against my ribs as Azriel took a step closer until his chest gently bumped into mine. His hand rested against my jaw, palm warm and rough against my skin that had started tingling under his touch, something changing between hot and cold running up and down my spine, my body freezing up when the shadowsinger's piercing eyes darted over my face. He blinked, then he dropped his head lightly.

When his nose brushed against mine, my breath faltered and my whole body went completely still. The only thing I could feel was my heart, pounding flatly and shakingly as Azriel´s scent drowned me and his warm breath hit my lips.

Azriel carefully nudged his nose against mine, halting. I could feel the way his breath trembled slightly, his throat working like he tried to hold back the urge to swallow.

It felt like he was waiting. Expecting me to pull back.

But I just fought the tighteness in my throat and hesitantly raised my chin.

When my lips brushed over Azriel´s, a shudder went through his body. His hand slipped over my jaw to the back of my neck, and he broke the last bit of distance, pulling me forward to crash his lips onto mine.

Something surged in my chest, growing warmer and bigger with every second, fluttering madly.

A whimper built at the back of my throat, and I reached out to grip Azriel's sides the same moment his free hand rose to cup the side of my neck. He was kissing me like I was air and he was drowning, deep, hard and desperate, his tongue dragging over mine, fingers winding through my hair as he took a step forward. His chest pressed firmly into mine, his brows drawn together and breath harsh against my skin, and my heart skipped so high, it got stuck in my throat.

When Azriel pulled back to suck in a sharp breath, his thumb brushing over my skin as he pressed his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, my heart was pounding and I wasn't quite sure where up was and where down. My nose brushed against Azriel's, and I swore I could feel his breath stumble.

Swallowing, I eased my grip on his sides, my voice a bit hoarse when I mumbled: “Gone?”

Azriel breathed a huff, and my heart skipped when I opened my eyes to see a grin slowly spreading over his face, causing his eyes to crinkle and a crease digging into his cheek, his iris twinkling so brightly my breath hitched. Then he dipped his head, and my heart tumbled when his lips pressed against the spot on my cheek, tongue darting out and swiping over my skin.

When he pulled back, his iris was twinkling and my breath flat. There was something there in his iris, something that matched the strange surging feeling in my chest and that made my body feel light like air as his eyes flickered over my face.

“You're staring,”, he mumbled, the harsh rasp in his deep voice betraying him, and I felt my lips curve slowly into a wide, beaming smile.

“Want me to stop?"

Azriel stared at me, and his eyes became even brighter as his deep voice rumbled through me.

"Never."

#azriel x reader #az x reader #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel x female!reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acowar #acomaf #azriel/reader #az/reader #lalacliffthorne

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Like A Movie Part IV

Summary: Casting calls start, reader is a hot mess, Jenna is still a sarcastic workaholic

Jenna Ortega X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: This one took me a bit longer than the others. I have more structure for where the story is going now, so I'll update as much as I can. Special thanks to @ipharaohosiris for their ideas!

**edit** For some reason when I made edits or corrections in the mobile app it cuts the last paragraph off. Guess I should edit better

Part I Part II Part III

You had to be at the studio in one hour. One hour and yet, you were pacing the floor in your bedroom beside yourself. You couldn’t figure out what to wear, you couldn’t figure out how to act, you couldn’t even sit down to have breakfast. It's safe to say you were freaking the fuck out.

You are a stubborn human being, and you almost never know how to ask for help. Being vulnerable is not in your wheelhouse. And seriously this isn’t that big of a deal. Just put some fucking clothes on and get your ass to the studio. Jenna and the producers will be waiting on you. All you have to do is sit in a room and decide the fate of some poor hopeful souls—no big deal.

You decide to text Jenna, fully intending to cancel. They don’t REALLY need you there, Jenna was capable enough.

Y/N

Hey Jenna. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.

She texts you back almost immediately like she knew this was going to happen.

Jenna

Okay. I’m outside.

Wait WHAT. You hustle over to your door, your hair flying behind you. You look out the peephole, and sure enough, there she is, leaning against the railing. She’s relaxed and cool, rocking a flowy white blouse and a long black skirt. You rip the door open and she stands smiling knowingly. Her smile falters and her eyes go wide.

She flicks her eyes down your torso and then very quickly returns them to your face.

“Ummm”

You glance down and immediately realize why she’s looking at you like that. You’re in a sports bra and boxer briefs. SHIT. You slam the door shut and speed walk back to your bedroom.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you say to yourself. You were really off your rocker today. Now Jenna has seen you pretty much exposed and will very likely never speak to you again. You panic, thinking she might think you’d done it on purpose, and turn around in your hallway with half a mind to open your door again before you realize you’re still in your underwear. And you realize you’ve slammed your door in Jenna’s face.

“Shiiiiiiit.” You groan, hurrying back around into your bedroom.

You hear your front door open and close softly and frown. You lean back out of your bedroom doorway and see Jenna at your entry. You’ve never felt more relieved to hear a person laughing at you. You’re dumbstruck. She’s still laughing at you as she makes her way down your hall.

“You’re in a state.” She says between giggles.

You are sure your hair must be wild, and your eyes are probably wilder. You grimace and shake your head, finally going into your room. She follows you, her laughter finally dying down.

“I’m so sorry, this is so unprofessional I wasn’t trying to flash you I'm so sorry.” Comes out of your mouth in a rush.

You want to crawl into your closet and stay there until the world forgets you exist.

“So you just forgot you were half naked?” She is still smiling, and you realize it’s at your expense. But her smile means she’s not upset, even if she thinks you’re a little crazy.

Your arms drop to your side, and then you gesture around your room, searching for an explanation. A good one doesn’t come to you, so you tell her the truth.

“See, what had happened was…I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughs at that and moves around you to sit on your bed. Usually, someone sitting on your bed would upset you, but for her, it doesn’t. It doesn’t make you feel like someone has invaded your space. In fact, it calms you shockingly quickly.

“So, you didn’t know what to wear.”

“I did not know what to wear.”

“And now you’re having a meltdown.”

“And now I’m having a meltdown, yes. Hence the nakedness.” You sigh.

Her eyes are full of amusement, and you feel a little less like a moron and a little more like a charming idiot. You’re just happy she isn’t irritated with you.

“Just wear something comfortable. It doesn’t matter, we’re not trying to impress them today. They’re trying to impress us. It’ll make it easier if you remember that.”

“Okay but you look, like, great. So, I can just look like a slob?” You throw your arms out, forgetting again that you’re literally in your bra and underwear.

“I had an interview this morning, so I’m actually a little overdressed.” She replies.

You huff but accept the answer and fling open your closet doors dramatically. You grab a pair of Dickies and slide them over your legs, turning as you button them.

“Eh?” You shrug at her, motioning to the pants.

“I think you need a shirt.”

“What, you don’t think our producers would want their writer looking like an asylum patient? Writers are crazy, you know.” You joke as you open the drawers in your dresser.

Jenna raises her eyebrows, “Yeah I’m gathering that.”

You make a mocking “haha” face at her and go back to digging in your drawer. Finally you find a black Ramones t-shirt with bleach streaks on it and pull it over your head. You slip on your vans and head into your master bathroom to try and tame your hair.

“Hey y/n,” Jenna calls from the bedroom, “Do you mind if I make an espresso to go while you finish? I don’t know if I’ll make it through today without one.”

“Of course, go ahead!” You yell back, assuming she knows how to work the machine.

You hear her heels striking the wood floors as she leaves the bedroom and walks down the hall. You’re in a boxing match with your hair today, and the hair is winning. You decide to tap out and throw it up in a messy bun. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just going to be sitting in a room full of up and coming actors who want to be in your movie. No big deal. They’re there to impress you, not the other way around. Pssssh yeah, as if.

You splash some water on your face and head out of your bathroom. It’s as good as it’s going to get for today. When you round the corner to your kitchen, Jenna is about to pull the coffee out of the espresso maker.

“Oh yeah just watch out sometimes it-“

You’re interrupted as the machine spits hot black espresso all over the kitchen.

“…does that.” You finish.

It takes you a moment to realize that Jenna is covered in coffee. She is speechless. She turns to you with her hands up, her mouth hanging open. You fight hard not to laugh. Her top is ruined, without a doubt. Her hair is dripping with coffee, and stray droplets are running down her cheeks. You lose the fight not to laugh.

“Y/n! Don’t laugh!” She cries, but she’s trying not to laugh too.

She drops her arms and looks at you, defeated. You’re laughing too hard to do anything to help her. You try to stand up straight and shuffle over to the drawer with clean kitchen towels, handing her one in between breaths. She’s laughing now too, wiping her face off the best she can.

“I can’t wear this,” she gestures to her shirt, looking at you helplessly.

Your laughter is finally quieting down and you sigh, “You can borrow a shirt from my dresser. Now you won’t be over dressed.”

The look on her face is something you can’t quite pin. There’s an emotion behind it, but you can’t figure out what it is. She nods at you and heads into your bedroom while you clean the coffee splatters in the kitchen. When she returns a few minutes later, she’s in your oversized Misfits t-shirt, and her hair is up in a bun. Your jaw drops and you can’t even pretend it doesn’t.

“Is this okay?” She asks, motioning to the shirt.

“I…I…oh uh…ye-yeah that’s totally okay.” You stammer out.

You forgot to take into account that when you offered your clothes to her, she would come out wearing your clothes. Sounds stupid, you know, but forethought outside of writing wasn’t something you were great at. You pick your jaw up from the floor and compose yourself. Not an easy act, but you had some experience now. You had successfully remained friendly with the most attractive human being you’d ever met, so you’re basically superhuman.

Jenna gathers her things and ushers you out the door. You look around for her car, but you don’t see it in the lot.

“Are we walking?” You ask, concerned for her ankles in her heels.

She tosses you your car keys and your sunglasses, “No. We’re going to be late, you’re driving, James Dean.”

You slide your sunglasses on, “Woah so Captain Planet does dig the Mustang eh?”

She opens the door and drops into the seat, “I never said I didn’t like your car, I just said you think you’re too cool in it.”

You sit in the driver's seat, rolling the top down. “Now we both get to be cool.”

The sun is gleaming down, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Jenna looks like she was made for the seat next to you, with sunglasses on, wind in her hair, and a slight smirk painted on her features. It’s only a ten minute drive to the studio from your house, but it feels like just the decompression you need. Your music rings through the speakers, and people gawk as you drive through Hollywood.

When you get to the studio, the producers smile and greet you like family. They give you a notepad and a pen to jot down your thoughts as the actors read through the scenes. They lead you and Jenna to a conference room set up with a long table at the head, your seat to the left of Jenna’s. The fact that the people lined up outside are going to be reading your words hits you like a freight train. This is real. It’s happening, and you almost can’t believe you were freaking out an hour ago.

Set off to the side of the head table is a camera facing a chair placed in the middle of the room. You silently wish the actors the best of luck. The amount of guts it would take to sit in that chair and force yourself to express an emotion that isn’t yours is an appalling idea. The respect you have for Jenna just grows, looking at that chair.

She’s settled into her seat at the head of the table, looking like she has never considered ever being anywhere else. You think she was built for this too. Directing is going to suit her well.

Wave after wave of actors roll into the room, sit on the chair and read your own words to you. Some of them are actually brilliant. Some of them should probably pack up their things and move back to Kansas. You note the ones you like best, and your table huddles after each one, comparing notes. During one of the huddles, Jenna indiscreetly presses her nose into her shoulder and breathes in. She blushes when she realizes you’ve caught her.

“Does it smell bad? I could have sworn that was a clean one.” You tell her, slightly panicky.

The blush on her cheeks deepens and you can tell she wants to hide from you. “No,” she mumbles, “it smells great.”

“Maybe I should wash your clothes then, we can both smell great.”

You didn’t think about what you were saying until the words were hanging in the air between the two of you. Your eyes lock onto each other, shock and a hint of humor fill both of your faces.

“Awh man, did you guys pick Judas’ first wife already? I was hoping to audition.” An actress you hadn’t heard come in says from the door. She’s looking at you. She thinks you’re playing a part. She must think Jenna is too if that’s the assumption she’s made.

Jenna sits up straight, the blush on her cheeks reaching her ears now. She waves her hand toward you and says, “This is y/n. The writer.”

The actress gasps and nods, “Oh man I am so psyched to meet you y/n! This script, it’s amazing! You’re amazing.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You hide your eyes behind one hand, smiling ear to ear. When your hand comes down the girl is beaming at you. You glance over and Jenna is scowling at her. The girl notices and cringes, hurriedly sitting in the chair.

“You may begin.” Jenna says, her voice all business.

You don’t think anything of the interaction and chalk it up to Jenna being serious about her work. The girl does a fantastic job, and you note her name down with a star on your notepad.

Olivia ⭐️

The day wraps around 4, with the first gaggle of actors finishing up. You group up with Jenna and the producers to compare your notes and make decisions on callbacks. The producers agree that Olivia is a clear front-runner in the race to become Jenna’s costar. Jenna is less than enthusiastic but eventually concedes as she’s outnumbered.

It’s been a long day once it’s all over, and you both drag your feet across the parking lot, falling into the car seats like rag dolls. You close your eyes with your hands on the wheel before you start the car, enjoying the warmth of the sun before you head back to your apartment. When you open them, you look over to see Jenna furiously scribbling notes in her notebook. She’s biting her thumbnail on one hand, and scratching at the paper with her pen in the other. She looks stressed and wound up.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey yourself.” She says back without looking up.

“Okay, notebook down. You’re gonna work yourself to death.”

She sighs and drops the pen into the notebook’s spine, looking over at you. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I have an idea.” You say with a conspiratorial smile.

“If this idea doesn’t involve sweats and my bed, I want no part of it.” Jenna says, completely deadpan.

“Great, you’ll love it then.” You say, knowing that idea is far from what you’ve actually come up with.

You don’t go back to your apartment, and you don’t ask her where she needs to be dropped off. Instead you turn your car toward Highway 1. Nothing like a top down cruise down Pacific Coast Highway to shake the stress right out of your bones. Jenna protested at first, but she relented when the crashing of the waves could be heard in the distance. The setting sun warmed your skin and the quiet sounds of your playlist mixed with the ocean made it impossible not to relax.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath. Then she threw her hands up above her head as the car wound around a curve, roaring beneath you. You drove a few more miles and turned off at a small diner.

“Do you think you can eat here without being bothered?” You ask her.

She looks around, the parking lot is basically abandoned. “I don’t see why not.”

The diner is old and nearly empty. It was probably the place to be back in the 50s, when waitresses would roll around on roller skates and play swing dancing music over their speakers. Now it’s populated by a few elderly members and a waitress who couldn’t be younger than 70 herself. You ask to sit on the patio and she begrudgingly leads you both outside, slapping menus on the table before hobbling back inside.

The ocean is just across the parking lot, and the beach is empty, the sun nearly disappearing over the horizon. Jenna sits cross-legged on the chair, gazing out over the water, watching the sun sink into the waves. A heavy military plane flies low over your heads, causing you both to look up.

“Oh look, a C-130.” You say, pointing at it.

Jenna looks at you, a curious smile playing on her lips. “Why do you even know that?”

“I was in the Air Force,” you explain, “spent the better part of my youth doing Uncle Sam’s bidding.”

Her eyebrows rise up, she’s shocked by your answer. “You? In the military?”

“Is that hard to believe?”

She laughs, “Yes. You’re so…I don’t know. Not military like.”

“You mean I’m not an uptight weirdo. Nah, most of us just needed somewhere to go. After a while, you forget there is anywhere else to go.”

She nods thoughtfully, but before she can respond, the waitress is back, setting cups of water on your table.

“What can I get for you ladies tonight?” She asks.

Her nametag reads ‘Dolly’ in bright pink letters and it tickles you.

“Well Dolly, I think I’ll have a strawberry milkshake. And some fries, if you don’t mind.” You answer, looking up at her.

She glares at you and jots down your order then looks to Jenna.

“You know Dolly, I think I’ll have the same thing.” She grins up at her from the other side of the table and Dolly smiles sweetly back at her.

“No problem dear, I’ll bring that right out.”

When she’s gone back inside you scoff, faking being offended.

“I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Well she’s smitten with me, so she has great taste.”

You put your hand over your heart and flinch backward, “Woe is me, Dolly is in loooove with my director.”

Jenna giggles at you shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s actually my middle name. Scouts honor.”

“We both know your scouts honor is a hoax y/n.”

You gasp, “You wound me Jenna Ortega!”

She fights not to laugh at you again, encouraging your goofiness. “Tell me about the military. Was it scary?”

“Not really, no. It was boring most of the time. And before you ask, no, I’ve never killed anyone. I worked behind a desk. I’ve been deployed six times, which sucked every time but only mostly because the food was terrible and the desert is the desert.”

“I wasn’t going to ask if you’d killed anyone. People ask you that?”

You nod, “Basically every time. But I got my retirement and I’m still young, so now I get to live out my dream. Thanks to you I might actually make some money doing it.”

“You are full of surprises,” Jenna says as Dolly comes out and sets the fries and milkshakes in front of you. She smiles at Jenna and ignores you, then heads back inside.

Your meal is filled with more banter, you ask her about life on sets and she asks you more questions about the military. Eventually she moves on to questions about your writing and you start asking her about fashion. The conversation is easy and comfortable and before you know it, it’s dark and getting chilly. Jenna refuses to let you pay for the food, and she tips Dolly an obscene amount before you head back to your car.

You look down at the stereo clock seeing it’s well past 8. “Where to, Ms. Ortega?”

Jenna rolls her eyes, “Please do not start that again. You can go back to your place, I’ll have my driver wait for me there.”

You pull the car back out onto the highway, driving slower than you had on the way out. The moon reflects on the ocean, washing everything in pale shadows of white and blue. Jenna’s hair is down again, blowing behind her in the wind. You think it’s a good thing you’re driving, or there’s no way you’d be able to pry your eyes off of her. Seeing her in your t-shirt, in your passenger seat, is the sweetest agony you’ve ever experienced.

The drive back is quiet and peaceful, both of you enjoying the summer air and the smell of sea salt on your skin. You can’t imagine what it would be like going back in time to yourself just a month ago, and telling them about this moment. You’d never believe it. But here you are, cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down and making the best days of your life.

You scroll to the Summer of 69 by Bryan Addams on your playlist, and Jenna screams in delight. The two of you sing it at the tops of your lungs into the dark sky.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter #Spotify

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callmemaeverick · 1 year

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The Inked Knight - The Spy Next Door Part IV

AN: Woot, Part 4. I swear I am going somehwere with this. This is my favourite one to write, cuz ever since I saw that scene in Casino Royale, I wanted to write it. Anywhoo.. here’s the next installment of our favourite gentleman Spy Next Door. Part I, Part II, Part III

Fights in your area are nothing new.

Living close to an overpass meant that you share an area with a group of homeless people and while most of them were harmless, there were a few that tend to get rowdy.

It was supposed to be a quiet night.

Your shift for the day ended by 7 pm and you were grateful for the extra few hours to wind down before you went to sleep. Curled up in your favorite spot on your couch, you were engrossed in your most recent book when you heard the shouting.

There was a group of people gathered at the entrance of the building and from your vantage point, you could make out the figures of some of your elderly neighbors and some strangers you didn’t recognize. You frowned, wondering what Mr. Jameson was doing up so late.

But then, you saw some movements and then came the startled screams. The next thing you knew, Mr. Jameson was on the ground.

You were out the door and down the stairs in an instant and when you got there, people were shouting, grabbing and pulling each other’s collars. It was total chaos and not for the first time, you were certain someone was going to get truly hurt.

So you acted. Without thinking.

“Call 911,” You whispered to Mrs. Rodriguez closest to you and jumped into the commotion. “Hey! Hey-hey-hey,” You exclaimed, putting yourself in between the squabbling group of men. “Whatever’s going on here, I’m pretty sure we can talk it out!”

A man from the gang, stepped forward, his eyes alight but hazy under the streetlight. “Why don’t you mind your own business, bitch?” His voice rang loud over the sizable group that had begun to gather. “This is between me and the old man.” From the looks of him, he was waiting for any chance of an easy fight.

You glanced at Mr Jameson behind you, still glaring daggers at the other man. The old man was none too different.

“Sir, there’s no need to talk to me like that.” You put on your best customer service voice. “Please calm down.”

The man took another step and invaded your personal space. Instantly, you could smell the liquor on his person. His eyes traveled up your body. “And what’re you gonna do if I don’t, Sweetheart?” He asked and behind him, some of his friends snickered.

Chills racked down your spine at the way he was leering and your voice wavered but you held firm. “Sir, please step back.”

The man did not move. Only inching closer.

"Sir, please,"

“She said step back!” Mr Jameson, having found his feet, shoved at the man’s shoulders and that’s when all hell broke loose. Before you knew it, both men grabbed each other once more and you found yourself sandwiched between the two.

You didn’t know how long you were stuck between them, trying to get them to stop. The others around you were grappling too. The loud noices, coupled with the overwhelming sense of being trapped sent warning signals to your claustrophobic brain. Panic seized your body and you gasped for air.

And then, like thunder, a voice boomed over the noise.

“Hey, FBI! Everybody step back!”

Just like that, the bodies parted and you felt Peter’s familiar presence right next to you. You thought he was working that night, but you were infinitely glad you were wrong.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, his voice different than normal. His stance was rigid and his gaze was hard, waiting for answers. He looked between Mr Jameson and the other man, but but not before you caught his eyes scanning you for injuries.

The air was tense as the three men stood off but thankfully, instead of escalating the situation further, the leader of group took one look at your neighbor's 6” figure and the badge on his hip, and decided most likely it was not worth it.

“Nothing, sir.” The man muttered. “Nothing at all.”

And that was it. The cops then arrived a few minutes too late and Peter stayed back to explain everything to them. Thankfully, everyone was let off with a stern warning and went on their separate ways.

The next few minutes were a blur as you hurriedly returned to your apartment, desperate for your safe haven. Curled up against the tiles, with the steady fall of water around you, you let it drown out all sensations.

That was how Peter found you, 10 minutes later, fully clothed and hunched over your knees.

"I can still smell the beer." The drunken man reeked of it.

There was a soft sigh and a rustle of fabric and then, the press of his right arm alongside your ribs. The warmth of his skin, different from the water sent goosebump up your own arms. He had shed his coat, but other than that he was fully clothed as well.

It had became a thing between the two of you, just sitting together in silence, skin touching, just breathing. Living alone in a different city was not always easy and while you would never admit it to anyone, you were starting to feel lonely. But that was before Peter arrived.

He moved, reaching up over his head to the ledge where you stored your soaps and shampoo. "Here," He handed you your body wash.

A flash of black caught your eyes and you stared as you took the bottle from him. You had seen them before, but mostly slivers whenever his sleeve was lifted whenever he moved or stretched. But this was the first time his tattoo was on full display to you.

"What?" Peter asked when he noticed your reaction.

“You uhh-..." Something foreign licked your insides when he moved and you saw the painted muscles of his forearms contract and release. How did you get that close? "I just… didn’t peg you for a sleeve ink kinda guy.”

They were beautiful. A series of geometric triangles running up his arm, giving an illusion of hard scales merging into some intricate design of a flower or a pointed star, blooming from the joint of his elbow.

You were mesmerized.

"I've always wanted them," He told you, turning his arms so you could see more. There were some more wrapping his bicep, still hidden by his shirt sleeves, and you found yourself more than a little curious to see them. "Started doodling in college and got them just before Quantico. Thought they'd look cool."

"They do," You blurted too quickly and blushed when Peter chuckled.

Silence blanketed you for a few beats, the only sound was the water drizzling over you both.

"You did good." Peter told you. "Tonight."

"I froze, Pete. It got intense and I froze. And to think I have years of experience handling people."

"Hey, it's one thing to handle a crisis on the phone. It's another to face it head on." He moved to capture hand. "Trust me. You did good."

You didn't really believe him, but you nodded nonetheless.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."

You let him pull you up and turn off the shower. You stood quietly as he rummaged your cupboard and pulled out two clean and fluffy towels.

"Would you come back? After?" You asked as you took a towel from him. "I- I don't think I'll be sleeping anytime soon. We could watch a movie or something."

Peter smiled at you. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

TBC Tagging: @strnqer @thefictionalgemini @bcon24 @medievalfangirl @coldheartedmar @iamzuul @iamasimpingh0e

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #gabriel basso #the night agent #netflix the night agent #the night agent netflix #the spy next door series #mav's posts

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graves4girls · 1 year

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☆ i want to be with you | peter quill II

✩ summary: you've taken quite a liking to the ship, and don't plan on leaving anytime soon. ✮ word count: 2.4k ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader part 2 also will probs keep this characterization of the reader for my future quill fics ✧ be sure to check out my work on ao3 ⇢ gravesforgirls !!

You're situated in the common area, handle of your sword in one hand as the other glides the sharpener along the blade when you hear him clamber down the steps, heavy footsteps echoing off the metal interior as he approaches you.

"Getting ready for battle, or what? What's up with the sharpener?"

You roll your eyes, setting down the weapon onto the tabletop in front of you to give him your attention. God knows he'd crumble if you didn't.

"It doesn't hurt to always be prepared…I see you didn't get the memo."

You eye his attire, baggy sweats hanging around his hips and a fitted t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly.

"You don't think I look battle ready? I could totally kick ass in this."

"You're not even wearing shoes. And your hair's a mess. They'd laugh at you and blast your ass into another dimension. C'mere."

You reach a hand out as he pads closer, patting down the wild curls that stick up in every direction and combing your fingers through his hair. He hums as you play with the messy strands, letting his eyes wander your face.

"Do you own a comb? Jesus Christ, or at least use some conditioner."

He winces when your fingers get caught in a tangle, and you murmur an apology as you slowly work out the knot of hair. Your fingers gently pull at the strands until they free from each other, running your nails along his scalp to brush back his bangs before pulling away.

"Is it better?"

You shrug. "A little. I can help you comb it out later. And start conditioning. It does wonders."

He smiles as he settles down in the seat beside you.

"Where'd you get this thing, anyways? It's massive." He picks up the heavy blade, cautiously eyeing the sharp edge.

"My mother made it for me. She wanted me to be able to defend myself in case we were ever invaded again. She taught me how to fight, too."

You reach over his arm to nudge his fingers open, pointing to the small engravings in the leather that wrapped around the handle.

"My father carved these into the handle. It was a collaborative effort, really. He was just as keen on keeping me on guard at all times. They were both my number one fans when it came to my combative skills."

You lift your gaze to find him already staring back, and you suddenly feel so close, leaning over him with your arm still draped over his own. You flush a bit at the realization, clearing your throat as you lean back.

"The only use I get out of it is hacking down branches and shit, though. I've never had to use it on anyone. Well…aside from you, I guess. But that doesn't really count."

He grins, setting it down.

"You were this close to drawing blood." He holds his hand up, gesturing with his index and thumb. "I'm surprised it didn't break the skin, with how sharp you keep this thing."

"I'm glad I didn't, because now I have my own personal space chauffeur."

He rolls his eyes, turning away from you as he feigns hurt.

"So that's what it is? You use me for rides? Some friend you are."

You can see the smile that he fights to keep hidden, and you punch his shoulder weakly.

"I mean, you are the greatest pilot in the universe, right? Who else better to fly me around than you? Unless that was only a bluff, of course."

"You're just trying to butter me up and flatter me, now."

You rest your elbow on the table, chin perched in your hand as you watch him.

"Is it working, Mr. Star-Lord?"

"No…maybe a tiny bit."

You grin, letting a hand tug at his bicep to unfold his arms from each other. "I guess you're kinda cool to hang out with, too. But it's mainly the free rides. Don't let your head get any bigger."

He brushes you off with a small grin, snaking a hand onto the table to snatch your bag of snacks from you, digging into the crinkly package as you roll your eyes.

"This is sufficient enough pay, honestly. I could live off of just this shit."

He stuffs his mouth as he speaks, and you nudge his chin to close his mouth, keeping him quiet as a few of the homemade chips fall from his mouth and onto the table. He throws a lopsided grin at you as he chews, handing back your snack.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoy my makeshift chips. You're lucky they’re so easy to make, or else I wouldn't be letting you eat so many."

He mumbles something that sounds like gratitude as he finishes the mouthful of food, picking up the remnants of the havoc wreaked onto your snack and tossing them into his mouth as you shake your head. Your eyes fall to his arm, running over the defined muscle as it flexes and relaxes with his movements.

"You like what you see?"

You startle a bit as you meet his eyes, face heating up as he gives you a smug grin.

"How 'bout this? Huh?"

He flexes his bicep, and you shove him away with a groan.

"Chill out, Star-Nerd. I was spacing out. Get your ego in check."

He lowers his arm as you speak, leaning in tauntingly.

"Excuses, excuses. Just admit you can't resist starin' at these guns."

"You wish, asshole. You keep dicking around like that and you're not getting any more chips."

He drops the grin so fast it's funny, and you stifle a laugh as he apologizes profusely.

"You're such a dork. Here, you can have the rest. I'm feeling nice today."

You watch him shuffle around the small kitchen, muttering to himself as he tends to whatever it was exactly that he was doing, headphones perched over his ears and music far too loud to be safe for his hearing. You slowly pad up to him, tapping a finger on his shoulder opposite you and grinning when he turns to find nothing, whipping around to glare down at you.

"Couldn't resist, sorry. What are you doing? I thought you went to sleep."

You lean against the countertop beside him, nudging one of the earpads from his ear so you were sure he'd hear you. He shrugs a bit, gazing at you as he shifts.

"Couldn't stay asleep. What are you doing out here?"

"No different from you, I suppose. It's freezing on this thing. I'm used to the humid climate on my planet, not the frigid emptiness of space."

He hums quietly, falling silent. You watch him for a while, just taking him in, in all his sleepy, mussed haired glory. You knit your brows together when he starts to sway his hips, biting back a chortle.

"What are you doing?"

He smiles down at you, stepping away from the counter and holding a hand out to you.

"Dancing. C'mon."

You stare at his hand, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I can't dance. Besides, it's much more entertaining just watching you."

He gives a small pout, catching your hand in his own and pulling you to bump against his chest, letting his other hand fall to settle against your waist.

"Everyone can dance. They just need the right teacher, and lucky for you, I happen to be among the best of the best."

"I don't even know what song you're listening to, so how am I supposed to dance?"

He tugs the headphones off to hang around his neck, cranking the volume up until it can't go any higher, and you can faintly hear the slow melody blasting through the small speakers. You roll your eyes, pressing a hand to his chest in an attempt to push away, but he's quick to wrap his arms around your waist securely, keeping you glued to him.

"You're such a nerd."

You watch that stupid grin work its way onto his lips, and he slowly begins to sway you back and forth, big hands firm against your waist. "You're the one who wanted to join me on the ship. Nobody to blame but yourself."

"You should come with a disclaimer. Because I definitely did not sign up for dance sessions in the middle of the kitchen when we're supposed to be asleep."

He draws back to spin you around, and you grumble quietly as he tugs you into his chest once more.

"You like me a lot more than you let on. This is all just a façade, and you know it. You're practically swooning right now."

You can't hide the smile that tugs at your lips, shoving his face away when he leans in to tease you.

"In your dreams, maybe. You're insufferable."

"And yet here you are, following my every move without hesitation. You sure are full of contradictions."

Your face heats up at his words, and you let your hands push half-heartedly at his biceps, a weak attempt at getting him to free you.

"You live to torment me, I swear. I'm regretting ever helping you."

He chuckles quietly, and you swear you almost melt entirely at the way he hugs you closer, flush against his chest as he steps side to side.

"You'd never be able to resist the Star-Lord charm. I would've wooed you regardless."

"You are so unbelievably corny. How is it this is the same man that saved the galaxy, hmm?" You poke a finger lightly against his chest, smoothing your hand over the muscle as his grin widens.

"I'm telling you, it's my charm. I'm just too good. Just admit you're absolutely head over heels."

You stare at him with faux humorlessness, flicking your finger against his forehead and laughing as he recoils, hands retreating to rub at the abused spot as you chortle.

"That was uncalled for. Inciting violence when I'm trying to be a gentleman and dance with my lady."

You raise your eyebrows, a humored smile playing on your lips. "Your lady, huh? I have an inkling to believe you're the one who's head over heels."

He stammers, stumbling over his words at your implication, and you swat at his chest playfully.

"Just messing with you. Don't get all flustered, Star-Lord. What happened to your tough little demeanor?" You throw another small smile before slipping past him. "You've tuckered me out with your dance lesson. C'mon, you need the sleep, too."

You reach to grab his hand, pulling him along to drag him to his bunk. He quietly protests the suggestion as you step into his quarters, pouting once more as you reach to tug the headphones from around his neck, flipping off the device and pushing him down to sit on the edge of the cushion.

"You'll have more than enough time to torture me after getting some sleep. You look exhausted."

You rake your fingers through his mussed hair, and he sighs softly.

"Can…can you stay here until I fall asleep, at least? I find it easier when you're here."

"As long as it gets you to shut up."

He frowns at your words, making a show of flopping onto his side with his back facing you, feigning agitation. You huff out a small laugh, reaching to pull the thin blanket over him, perching yourself on the edge of the bed to let your fingers massage his scalp.

"You comfy?"

He flips over to look at you, nodding with a small smile plastered on his face.

"Very."

He nearly purrs as you play with curly blond strands, thumbing over his cheekbone whenever your hand nears his face, feeling the stubble across his cheek. His eyes fall shut, leaning into your touch as his breathing slows.

"How 'bout a goodnight kiss? For good luck." He teases, eyes still closed as he purses his lips playfully.

You think for a moment before dipping your head, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his temple, and he jumps a bit at the unexpected contact.

"Don't get excited. That's all you're getting. Learn to be humble."

You watch him intently, but he keeps his eyes closed, though you don't miss the way he tries to fight the dumb smile that pulls at his lips.

He emerges from his nest hours later, hair ruffled and messy as he yawns, hand scratching at the line of hair that disappears beneath the band of his sweatpants as he pads over to the stool you're situated on. You lift your gaze from the small book pinched between your fingers, clamping a hand over your mouth at the sight, giggling behind your palm.

"What are you laughing at? I just woke up. Cut me some slack."

"No, you –you look cute. Aside from the drool stain."

You pick a napkin from the table to wipe at his face, and he leans into your touch, mind still laced with sleep as he melts into your hand.

"You think I'm cute? I knew you were swooning."

You roll your eyes, nudging his jaw as you pull away. "What did I say? Humble yourself. Your head's already big enough."

He plops down beside you, laying his cheek onto the cool tabletop and staring up at you, reaching a hand out to toy with your fingers. He thumbs over your knuckles, silent as he slowly regains complete consciousness. You let him fidget as your eyes pan across the open book in front of you, humming with a small laugh as you feel him pull at your hand to tangle in his hair. Your nails scrape gently across his scalp, drawing quiet, content murmurs from his lips as he sits beside you.

"So, can we talk about it? I mean, if you want to, of course."

He watches as you close the book, and you tuck a few stray curls behind his ear as you look down at him.

"What do you want me to say?"

He stares for a moment before speaking.

"I don't know. I guess…I just wanna know what this is. Between us, I mean. Because I can't keep acting like this is just friendly. Like, is it more, or am I confused?"

You smile at him, scooting your seat closer.

"I'd like to say it's more, if you want to. I do like you, Peter."

He lifts his head from the table, eyes searching your expression.

"Like, like like me?"

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, nodding. "Yes, like like. I'd be stupid not to."

He stills for a good few moments, drawing his brows together.

"I think that's the first time you've used my first name."

"Yeah? Do you not like it?"

He's quick to shake his head, and you grin at him.

"No, I really like it. You should do it more often."

"I'll remember that."

You watch him, eyes flickering to his lips as he leans in closer.

"Can I kiss you?"

"I'd like you to."

#p.quill #peter quill #star-lord #star lord #peter quill x reader #star-lord x reader #star lord x reader #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy volume 2 #guardians of the galaxy volume 3 #gotg #gotg 2 #gotg 3

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pimosworld · 9 months

Text

Moonshine

TLOU x Triple Frontier crossover AU

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Chapter Summary-Frankie spends the night and he may never leave.

Rating-Explicit,Explicit, 18+,MDNI,NSFW

CW-Alcohol consumption,Fluff,Smut,oral male receiving,Heavy MM dynamics, MMF dynamics, Dom Joel, Anal,Unprotected PIV,M receiving, cream pie,anal cream pie,praise kink,aftercare.

WK-4k

A/N- This chapter is smut and if you’re not comfortable reading MM sex or MMF this is your chance to stop reading because it’s smut from here on out. More plot next chapter but I wanted to give the people what they’ve been asking for.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Moon shine chapter IV-XXX part II

Joel was in high spirits tonight, chatting with customers and introducing himself to new people. He did it to be friendly but often to assert to new faces that this was his place and if any rumblings around the QZ of his name were mentioned he wanted to make sure they knew.

He was soft with you but his presence to most was intimidating.

You couldn’t help but notice everyone staring at you, Santi kept locking eyes with you and smirking and Benny kept hailing you the queen. You were too pleased with yourself to be embarrassed. It was thrilling knowing that these two fierce men, who would be feared by any other, were captivated by you.

Charity makes her way over to you, setting her empty bar tray down and invading your space. You didn’t mind the company but you can see her tongue in cheek smile as she watches you work.

“Got something on your mind?”

“Table 5 needs refills.” You turn around and cross your arms knowing full well she didn’t come over for refills.

“I’m so jealous babe.” You shake your head at her as you make the drinks for the table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gestures to Joel and Frankie laughing and chatting beside the bar, just then they look at you. You take a deep breath and look away hoping you don’t collapse from the intensity.

“I love you but please shut up.” You whisper so only she can hear as she signs the cross and kisses the sky.

If teasing is all you’ll have to deal with you’ll gladly put up with it to see them both so happy.

****

There’s a few stragglers as you all wrap up the night. Joel goes over to graciously nudge them out the door so you can all leave. You don’t like the way they gawk at you as they get up from their table.

Benny notices your discomfort as they make their way out and heads outside to see which way they went. Something about them is oddly familiar and it leaves an awful knot in your stomach.

He comes back in and heads straight for Will who is chatting with Santi and Charity. The brothers exchange words and you get a small glimpse into the lives they had before this. Constantly observing the surroundings and still adamant about doing their jobs.

“Shine you ready to go home?” Joel’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as you see him with your bag and jacket slung over his shoulder.

A part of you is sad as you glance over at Frankie still perched on the bar sink as he watches the rest of the boys leave for the night.

“Fish, I'm sleeping in your apartment. It's nicer than mine.” Benny calls over his shoulder as he heads down the hallway.

But why would he-?

“Francisco you coming?” Joel flashes him a look as Frankie stands straight to join him. “Of course I am.”

They both have satisfied looks on their faces as something goes unsaid between them. You round the bar as Joel places your jacket on your shoulders and Frankie guides you by the small of your back toward the door. You haven’t quite been able to fill your lungs with air as the warmth and affection blooms amongst the three of you.

****

You walk a little ahead of them to gain your bearings and they happily give you space as they chat amongst themselves. You hear your name a few times and you glance over your shoulder and are always met with an amused smile from them.

You hear mentions of Frankie’s time in the military, something you notice he hasn’t brought up with you. Maybe too worried about scaring you, he must know the awful things you’ve had to endure from the time you were on your own.

There’s a flirtatiousness in Joel’s voice as he compliments him and you swear you saw them holding hands for a moment. It’s exhilarating seeing him in this new light. A side of him you’ve never been exposed to before and perhaps maybe never would have if Frankie hadn’t come along.

You finally make it to your townhouse, the long way up the steps seem like a daunting task as you try to control your uneven breaths. You can feel them watching you as you close your eyes to calm your nerves. Your fingers can’t work the keys and a frustrated sigh leaves your lips before you can stop it.

“Hey…are you okay?” Frankie comes up behind you to steady your hands as you nod.

“Shine…words.”

“Yes I’m okay…you guys are just making me a little nervous.” Frankie tries to disguise the chuckle he lets out as you turn to face them both.

“I don’t mean to laugh hermosa but we haven’t done anything.”

Sure… little do they know their presence alone is making your stomach do flips and you can’t stop thinking about what’s to come on the other side of this door.

As you enter the threshold Joel leans down close to your ear “Why don’t you change out of your work clothes and get comfortable.” He kisses your neck and stands, you see his eyes flit behind you momentarily as you pull away from him.

He playfully smacks your ass as you head towards the bedroom to change. You let out a small shriek and Frankie’s laughter has you relaxing a little.

Your moment of reprieve doesn’t last long as you stand in the bedroom wondering what exactly it is you’re supposed to change into.

It’s not like lingerie was readily available but you did have a cute green matching set of bra and panties to throw on under one of Joel’s shirts that you usually lounged in along with your sleep shorts.

As you make your way back into the kitchen you’re met with the sight of the two men, idling around each other moving in tandem as if they’ve done this a million times. Joel leans in and whispers something in his ear that has him giggling like a schoolgirl.

The floor creaks slightly beneath your feet, alerting them of your presence. They both turn to look at you again with those chocolate brown eyes. It seems you’ll have to get used to it without feeling the need to pass out just from a simple stare.

“I love when you wear my clothes.” He looks you up and down as he exits heading toward your bedroom leaving you alone with Frankie. He takes his signature cap off, setting it on the counter as he runs his fingers through his hair. You can’t help but gawk at the way his muscles flex in his shirt and you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he smiles at you. You can hear the sound of bare footsteps behind you as you turn to see Joel changed out of his button up wearing a plain undershirt and jeans.

He’s looking at you like he’s going to devour you and you can barely register the words coming out of his mouth.

“Did you say something?”

“I asked if you cared for a drink?” You blink up at him more confused than ever because he’s not holding anything in his hands.

He grabs your shoulders and slowly turns you to face Frankie who's holding out a glass of amber liquid. You swallow thick as you notice he’s discarded his shirt. Your eyes track down his muscular tan chest, a small happy trail over his soft belly disappears somewhere beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“What is it?” Your voice barely above a whisper as he holds the glass up to his nose and inhales. “I’m not sure,Joel said you’d like it though.”

You take the glass from him and down it in one go. It’s good…really good, it tastes almost indistinguishable from your signature drink. It hits your belly and warms you from the inside, doing nothing to fan the flames of your arousal. Still you don’t know what this game is they’re playing and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction right now.

“It’s not bad.” (You lie) and his lip ticks up a bit as he smirks at Joel over your shoulder.

“Told ya.” Joel says to him as if you’re not standing right there once again sandwiched between them.

You spin on your heels to face Joel, the frustration evident on your face. “Told him what Joel?” You cross your arms and pop your hip like a petulant child.

Frankie moves closer to you, pressing his exposed chest to your back.You can feel his hardness pressed into you as you try not to move. A small intake of breath causes your chest to brush into Joel’s. The amusement is written all over his face as you struggle to remain composed.

Frankie leans down close to your ear and you close your eyes for a brief moment savoring the feeling. “He told me…you were a little brat Luna.”

“You keep calling me Luna…I don’t know what that means.”

He tsks at you while his thumb traces a line along your jaw. “Oh…I thought you knew everything.”

They’re having too much fun playing with you, obviously having planned the whole thing out long before you registered what was happening.

“Is someone going to fill me in as to what’s going on?”

“You’ll be filled soon enough, Moon.”

Frankie turns you toward Joel and if they keep spinning you you’re not gonna know which way is up. Just when you think they can’t possibly get any closer Joel moves in and grabs Frankie behind the neck.

You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the two men kiss over your shoulder. Your knees would’ve buckled at the sight if you weren’t quite literally trapped between them.

Before you have a chance to speak Frankie grabs your jaw and tilts your head back, his soft pillowy lips crash into yours as his other hand trails its way to your breast giving a light squeeze. You register another hand skating up your thigh slowly making its way higher.

His tongue prods your mouth for entry and a quiet whimper leaves you as you feel another set of lips on your neck. They’ve both got you so keyed up you can hardly breathe.

Frankie pulls away, taking your bottom lip with him as you desperately chase the kiss. Joel rubs your arms reminding you he’s still there, grounding you in a way. Checking in to make sure you still want this. He’s waiting for you to say something- anything, but for once in your life you’re left speechless.

“We should move this to the bedroom.” Frankie saves you from your moment of panic and your feet somehow carry you to the room. Clothes being ripped and discarded along the way. Their hands are all over you, it’s intoxicating and you know for the three of you there’s no going back.

Joel urged Frankie to lay on the bed, what little control he thought he had was forgotten in a moment. You both knew who called the shots from this point forward.

“Francisco has been so generous, you should return the favor .”

You lick your bottom lip at the vision of him laid out in front of you. “Isn’t he a sight.”Joel’s behind you, the heavy weight of his cock pressed into the small of your back as he slowly coaxes you forward onto the bed.

Frankie’s chest is rising and falling as you crawl towards him,littering kisses along his thighs and his hips. He’s shaking and you’ve barely touched him. The weight of him in your hand as you slowly stroke him is strangely familiar.

You taste the beaded pearl of precum on his tip as you give an experimental lick. You take the head in your mouth swirling your tongue around as Frankie white knuckles the sheets below. “Holy shit…”

“Doesn’t she take direction so well, Francisco?”

He can’t form words as he nods watching your perfect lips wrapped around him. Joel’s weight dips the bed behind you as he watches your cunt flutter with every bob of your head. His fingers tease your entrance and you moan around Frankie’s cock as he dips two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Always so wet for me Shine…you should see it Francisco.”

Frankie’s falling apart in front of you as his curls stick to his sweaty forehead. He’s focused on you as his eyes flit back and forth to Joel pumping his fingers in and out.

Joel withdraws his fingers and before you can miss the sensation the fat tip of his cock is stretching you,filling you with each rock of his hips. “So tight for me.” The gravely tone in his voice has you clench around him while he squeezes your hips to still you. He bottoms out muttering curses under his breath.

Frankie’s a little bigger than Joel as you try and breathe through your nose to take him all in. Your chin is soaked with spit and cum as you whine around his cock. Your hand pumps the base where you can’t reach. You’ve never felt this full as Frankie strokes your face trying to hold his composure.

Your lungs burn for air but he’s looking down at you with something akin to admiration as his breathing grows ragged.

“Relax your throat hermosa.” You will yourself to relax and you feel the tip of him at the back of your throat. “Oh fuck…good girl.”

“She likes when you tell her she’s doin a good job.” Joel heaves behind you sending you further down as your nose brushes the soft curls at the base of his cock.

You’re trying to focus on Frankie but Joel’s hand presses you down making you arch your back,you can feel every curve and ridge as he drags through your tight walls.

“Joel…” Frankie’s pleading and his voice is wrecked as he’s on the brink of release, but he doesn’t want this to be over too soon.

Joel’s hand grips your hair pulling you off him with a loud pop. You’re gasping for air as you’re still connected by spit. You’re sure you're a mess but Frankie looks at you as if you’re everything to him. “You’re doing so good for us.”

A silent conversation is had between the two men and suddenly you’re on your back at the top of the bed. Frankie’s mouth works all over your body as he suck’s your nipple into stiff peaks.His large hands grip your waist sure to leave bruises. “You’re shaking hermosa.” Your skin is hot to the touch and your mind is overstimulated and all you can manage is a whine. “I’ve got you okay.” You nod as he nuzzles into your neck.

Joel bends over him trailing kisses down his spine and now he’s the one shaking. This moment is more than carnal desire as Joel looks at you like he worships the ground you walk on.

“You okay, Shine?” Your control is slipping as you squeak out a yes. Neither of you dare make a move without Joel’s approval.

Joel leans across grabbing something from the nightstand drawer as Frankie continues to worship your body, your face, your breasts, the way you smell of sex and vanilla scented body wash.

Frankie gasps as a cold substance drops down his ass and hits his hole as it trails further down his balls.He shudders above you as he grips the base of his cock, teasing it up and down your slit.

He turns to see Joel squeezing a clear liquid from an unmarked bottle. “Fuck where’d you get lube?” He’s panting above you as the anticipation builds, he hasn’t let anyone have this much control ever.

“It’s for special occasions.” You both say simultaneously. His cheeks darken momentarily at the thought of being a (special occasion).

Joel holds his fingers out in front as you lean in and suck on them. Bobbing your head as you just were, eager in every action as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“Relax Francisco.” His words were echoed back to him by Joel. This certainly isn’t his first time but this feels different. It’s not rushed or hasty. Joel is deliberate in every step he takes.

He sinks a finger in as Frankie grits his teeth, Joel’s thick digit moving in and out slowly until he feels him relax and adds another. “I need to open you up so you can take me like our girl does.” Fuck…The sudden intrusion gives way to pleasure as he tilts back, biting down hard on your breast.

Joel pulls his fingers out leaving a temporary void as Frankie feels the fat tip of his cock press against his hole. Joel pushes in slowly, teasing back and forth, waiting for any signs of discomfort. He can feel his muscles relax around his shaft as he goes further and further.

Your pussy is aching to be filled again but you could come from the display above you as Joel takes what he needs and Frankie holds on to every thread of resolve he has left.

You look between you as his cock leaks a steady trail of precum on your stomach. The tip red and angry begging for release. His eyes meet yours in a moment of need asking for permission. “Please Frankie…” Your words are cut off as he enters you slowly, setting the same pace as Joel.

“Jesus Christ…” Frankie half shouts as he tries not to black out at the sensation of your tight walls and Joel’s cock all at once. Lewd sounds of the three of you echo off the walls as Joel rocks his hips back and forth.

“That’s it…you’re taking me so well.” Now Frankie knows how it feels to be praised, he's never felt so full. This was an addiction he’s not willing to kick anytime soon.

Joel doesn’t know where to look. At you as you cling to Frankie, your eyes rolled back in pure bliss. He looks down at where they connect as he moves in and out reveling in the way Frankie pushes his hips back meeting every thrust. Something primal is stirring inside as he bites down hard on his lip to stave off his release.

Joel grunts and gasps picking up the pace as Frankie clings to you for dear life. His mutters of English and Spanish in your ear as he takes what Joel gives him. “Mierda siente tan bien.”

You’ve been in his position before as you whisper soft praise under your breath.

He mirrors every movement as Joel’s grip tightens on his waist and his hips are flush against him, he thrusts into him and Frankie lets out a choked sob as he pushes further into you. He’s got both your wrists in an iron lock grip on one of his hands above your head.

Duel chants of their names leave your lips as he punches the breath out of you with every thrust. His cock hitting something deep inside as you dig crescent moons into your hand.

Frankie has a moment of panic as he notices tears cascading down your face.”Am I hurting you?”

“No…fuck it feels so good.” You keen as you arch your back off the bed, wrapping your legs around both men desperately pulling them into you.

“She’s real pretty when she cries.”Joel whispers in Frankie’s ear as he rutts into him. “Fuck he’s got a dirty mouth.” Frankie grunts above you.

Every axon fiber in your body screams at you to hold on but you’re quickly approaching your edge.

Joel leans down, capturing your lips as you feel another tongue slide into the embrace.It’s all tongue and teeth as the three of you seize this moment in time.

“Come for me Shine.” His raspy voice tells you he’s barely holding on as he bites down on your pulse point.

Frankie can feel you contract your muscles as you moan loudly in his ear,they’re falling over the edge with you and reality as they come in the same breath. Frankie fills you as Joel lets out a choked sob behind him.

Joel braces the wall to not collapse on the both of you as he catches his breath. You could lay here for an eternity with them and the crushing weight of their affection as they whisper soft praises and kiss your sweat soaked body.

A long moment passes as the three of you stay connected, your deep breaths evening out as you come down from your high. You feel hollow as they shift off you but Frankie doesn’t let you out of his grasp as he pulls you into his chest, planting kisses along your back.

You both watch as Joel lazes off to the bathroom and runs the water until it heats up.You’re already drifting off to sleep as he returns with a washcloth. You vaguely register his hands wiping your face and gently down your center, both men speaking in hushed voices.

No words are spoken as sleep carries you away. The soft sounds of your men and the rise and fall of their chest as they cage you in. The three of you finally complete.

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Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

This was my first mm smut so if you have any suggestions feel free too politely drop in my inbox.

@fishingforpike @christinamadsen @alwaysdjarin @avastrasposts @basicoccult @pastelnap @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @superhoeva @legendary-pink-dot @jwritesfanfics @milla-frenchy @romanarose @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @moonlightdivine @sheepdogchick3 @scarletthefierce @theywhowriteandknowthings @she-could-never @csarab615

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

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A/N ::: *puts finger up and opens mouth like I may actually have ANYTHING of importance to say but changes my mind and closes my mouth and puts my finger down because let's face it ... I don't have shit to say that anyone really needs to hear.*

C/W ::: Language, more broken heart stuff, angst? Longing. No smut yet. aged up character. You'll all see my handy dandy 18+ thing when there is. Thank you for reading, I do appreciate it. ❤

WC ::: just about 1,800

Part I

Part II

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part III

You stared at your phone for another few minutes before you turned it off. Sitting it down on the nightstand - your nightstand, you stood up and began looking around to collect some things - your things - from around Katsuki's place.

He hadn't taken down any of the pictures of you guys that were scattered about the space. There were innumerable frames hung on the walls, sitting on the mantel, and end tables. You guys at the fair, at the beach, on vacation. On staycations. There were a few things you hadn't gotten to do yet. But you'd always assumed that what you two hadn't done, you would eventually get around to doing at some point.

You grabbed your favorite photo - the two of you in the middle of the carnival, mid-kiss. It was so rare to see a moment where Bakugo was fully relaxed and happy. The person who took the photo was from out of town. They were 'so captivated by Katsuki's unique looks' they snuck the photo and then approached you to show you what he'd captured in the sweet but unspoken display of true love.

It broke your heart to remember that. Was it supposed to hurt this much? You've been heartbroken before. But this was physically painful. It was like your lungs couldn't take in air. Your stomach churned like you'd just been in a car for 4 hours after eating spoiled food. Your eyes burned from the tears that hadn't stopped and they ached from the tears that already fell.

You were exhausted and you still had to get all of your things together and back to your apartment before Kats got home. For the most part, if you were being totally honest with yourself, you didn't want to see him. It wasn't because you couldn't bear the thought of his face, but because you didn't know if you could keep yourself from falling to your knees in front of him and asking why all of this was happening.

But you know why it's happening. You’re why it's happening. It was hard for you to carry this alone. Somewhere in this mess, you know he was responsible for something. It was just a matter of figuring out what his slice of this shit pie was.

You went to the kitchen and stood at the fridge for a minute before you pulled out a half-empty bottle of white wine and made yourself comfy on the couch and watched whatever movie was left sitting in the DVD player.

It almost made you vomit to see that it was his surprise 25th birthday party you’d planned. You didn’t even know he had all of that stuff put onto a disc.

It was turning out to be from-the-bottle kind of night.

The next thing you know, you were waking up on the couch. Your right hand down your pants, your left hand cradling the empty wine bottle, and Katsuki standing over you. A smirk on his lips and a growl leaving his mouth. “Long night?” He asked, taking the empty bottle from you.

“I - I - when - oh … shit.” Pulling your hand from your pants, you know you turned a red brighter than a sun-ripened strawberry. “Kats it’s …"

He shook his head and calling you a dumbass, he turned and walked into the kitchen to rinse and put the bottle in the recycling bin.

You got up and followed him, standing close to him but not too close that you were invading his space. It was almost like you were sent back in time. You watched him work around the kitchen like it was second nature. Like it was any of the other days you two had been in there.

He had such a strong presence that you had to look away before he caught you staring.

He sucked on his teeth and asked, "It's what, y/n?" His voice soft and gentle. It wasn’t the way he normally spoke. It wasn't like him to sound so quiet and fragile. It was almost like he was trying to break you in a way that wouldn’t cause too much damage.

"It's - it's nothing. I just wanted to know how long you were there." You looked at him, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know where you stood. Was this a joke? Did he know how much you missed him? How much you still loved him?

Katsuki leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "I got home 3 hou- I mean, a little while ago. Don't worry about it, ok? You're fine. You just looked so cu- uh, so comfortable and I didn't wanna bug ya. Why didn't you sleep in the bed? You could've, you know. Didn't have to sleep on this shitty couch." He laughed quietly.

"Hey! I picked out this couch." You wanted to reach out and squeeze or slap his bicep but fought off the urge.

"Yeah," he snorted. "And? I thought that was mutually understood that you pick out shitty furniture." His smile was so warm. You felt the overwhelming desire to kiss him. To touch him. Anywhere. You wanted to brush the hair from his face. To smooth down the perpetually creased skin between his eyes. Something.

Dear God. Anything to feel his warm skin.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

"Ok, well, I should get going. I didn't get a chance to get all of my stuff out of here. I don't know what I left. I'll buy you a new bottle of wine," you said as you picked it up to look at the label. "Huh. Never heard of this one before. It was really good. Thanks. And uh, well, sorry. I hope it wasn't anything special. Jus' throw my shit out, I guess. If I -"

He moved and stood in front of you, one hand on the bottle, the other in his pocket. "I'm not going to throw your stuff out, y/n. Don't be so damn dramatic about it. Jesus."

"Eh, if I didn't already miss it, I don't think there's much of a point in me having it back." You felt stupid as soon as you said it. It hadn't been years since you had last seen it. Maybe weeks, and even that was being generous. Katsuki was right. You were being dramatic about it.

You were both standing there, each of you had a hand on the empty wine bottle. Both of you were waiting for the other to say something but neither of you had any idea what to say or do with yourselves.

Moving first, you let go of the bottle and reached into the pocket of his sweats you wore to retrieve the key to his apartment. "I uh," you tapped it on the marble counter as tears burned your eyes again. "Heh," you said, choking on the lump in your throat. "... fuck. Kats ..."

His face fell when you said his name. And it wasn't too much longer before his arms were wrapped around your waist and his face was in your neck. "God fuckin’ damn it, y/n." Katsuki held you tighter than he ever had before. His grip was vice-like and you knew that you couldn't go anywhere without a struggle. So you gave in.

You held him back and tried to steady your breathing. It was hard to believe that the last time you two were in this position was less than 2 weeks ago. "I know, Katsuki. I know. I ... miss you so much." You couldn't hold it back any longer. The tears began to stream down your face, soaking the collar of his shirt and the hair that poked out from behind his ear.

You wanted to kiss him. To pull his face to yours and breathe in the scent of his skin. To feel his breath on your lips.

But you couldn't. Not like this. Not when you both were still so lost and confused about what had happened.

It took you several minutes to pull away from him. Your body didn't want to let go of him. Your soul didn’t want to let go of him. You needed the physical comfort that his embrace provided. It was a home that you couldn't find anywhere else.

You pulled back and wiped your face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm so sorry. I have to go. I have to finish getting my shit out of here. Please, can you just let me get my things another time? And I'll be gone." You choked back a sob and turned away from him, not wanting him to see your face anymore.

He reached out for your hand and took a deep breath. "Y/n, stop. Just ... just wait, ok? It's fine. You can take whatever you want. I don’t give a shit. Take the bed. The couch. The tv. I really don’t care. But you gotta … Just stop this shit. Stop runnin’ away ... stop fuckin' runnin' from me. Don't leave like this. Don't make me live without you completely. I don't -" He pulled you back and looked at you, his eyes red. "I can't ... don't want to lose you. You're ... you're the ... Fuck. Please, just don't make me lose you." His voice cracked and he leaned his forehead against yours. "I'll fix whatever it is I did wrong."

Your heart sank. You didn't know what to say. He hadn't done anything wrong. It was your fault. Your issues. Your baggage.

"No, Kats. You haven't done anything wrong. It's not you. It's … ugh fuck. I have to fix some things. And I have to deal with the fact that we can't fix this. At least, not - not right now. Please, let me get my things when you're not here and that'll be that. OK?" You started to cry again as you pushed the key to him again. "I love you, Katsuki. I don't think I'll ever love anyone like I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

It hurt a little when you gave in to the comfort that you had been going without. But it would have hurt more to not reach for him. Even though it had been a short while, you couldn't believe how much you missed his touch. His smell. His warmth. It was like he was a drug that you couldn't live without. And while you knew that it wasn't healthy to depend on someone like that, you couldn't help but want to give in to the temptation. You were weak and would give into him. No questions asked.

Just one ... last ... time.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

#mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x you #x reader #katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #aged up character #mha katsuki bakugo #mha katsuki bakugou #x you #x y/n #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki

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do-it-for-the-fandom · 7 days

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Cloudy With a Chance of Murder.

Part I: leaving the crime scene.

Part II: the phone call.

Part III: a visit to the morgue.

Part IV: the lunch break.

Beckett stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the last of the espresso double-shot to drip from the machine so that she could pour the perfectly foamed milk into her mug. She was getting better at this; soon enough she'd be able to make herself a cup of coffee to rival Castle's, she was sure of it.

The boys had paraded through the bullpen with Reggie and his body guard only ten minutes ago. Their interrogation was far from over and, with everything panning out the way it had been, Beckett had decided that now was as good a time as ever for a caffeine boost.

Castle evidently had the same idea.

He walked into the break room and moved to take his place by her side. But he stood too close. Too close for at the precinct, anyway.

Out of habit - yes, after only two weeks they had already formed too many habits - his hand came to rest on her lower back and his chest brushed against her shoulder. She knew he wasn't doing it on purpose: trying to drive her crazy with the close proximity, the familiarity of his touch. But she hated having to hold back and it would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn't constantly putting her in the position of having to be the one to redraw those boundaries.

With a sigh, she stepped to the side and regretfully created some distance between them.

"You know what I was just thinking?" Castle asked her as he turned and leaned back against the bench.

"That it's always the nice guy athlete that lets you down?" she mused with just a hint of bitterness.

Castle frowned. "There's obviously a backstory to that snide remark," he commented curiously. She looked at him, waited for the hounding questions but he shook his head. "No. I was thinking..." He allowed his voice to trail off as he stepped closer to her. After just a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone, he looked at her with a mischievous grin. "It's almost lunch time."

Beckett looked at him, waited for him to maybe continue on with that train of thought. Instead, he just waggled his eyebrows.

"And?"

"And, I just happened to leave my packed lunch at home this morning."

She frowned; since when did Castle pack a lunch? But then she realized what he was suggesting. "So you'll be needing to go home to get it."

Castle smiled, took another small step in her direction. He was invading her space again; the smell of his cologne too alluring to ignore and she - for the second time that day - abandoned her coffee.

"I was hoping that maybe you could give me a lift?" he asked, still playing this game he had obviously decided he liked. "You know, save me the hassle of trying to hail a cab."

"You seem to have forgotten the case we're working on. The one that is far from solved," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Gotta take your mandated break, right?"

"And you want me to spend my break playing taxi for you?"

"I promise to make it worth your while."

#my drabbles #kate beckett #richard castle #caskett #castle #kate beckett x richard castle #castle fanfiction #castle fanfic

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eruherdiriel · 2 years

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The funniest part about Andor (and Rogue One) being objectively some of the best made Star Wars media is how Tony Gilroy has said he's not as interested in the Star Wars of it all. He's using an incredibly popular medium to tell a story he finds intriguing. It's hilarious on the Star Wars end (that someone less concerned with the lore of it all makes something this good), but it's also funny because the Andor team, in many ways, has created the most Star Wars content ever.

At its core, Star Wars is a political space adventure. Yes, there's lightsabers, cool battles, cheesy lines, and love stories, but the politics/philosophy/worldview has always provided the substance. The original trilogy is about overthrowing a fascist imperial government. It's about a scrappy group of people who shouldn't even know each other banding together to rebel. The prequels, love them or hate them, are mired in the politics of executive overreach, starting a war for more-than-usual questionable reasons, and the failure of institutions that corrode from within (the Jedi Order and the Galactic Senate). The sequels, again, love them or hate them, are about how history rhymes. In the wake of victory over imperialism, former rebels fail to stop a new fascistic power from forming in the decades after the war. It's about the repetition of mistakes. It's the US invading the Middle East decades after failed, horrofic interference in Vietnam and Korea. It's the current rise of fascism and anti-Semitism in Europe, decades after World War II and the Holocaust.

Maybe sometimes it takes people who have less reverence for a Thing to truly flesh out the best parts of that. Because Andor has gone deeper into the politics than we've ever seen (some themes it's touched on: police brutality, the prison industrial complex, fractured political movements, who suffers the most under a tyrannical system, immigration and displacement, exploitation of people and resources). It's the also most human and grounded Star Wars has ever been, probably because it doesn't have to worry so much about the flashy stuff. Andor has a fully realized message and complicated characters, and it's incredibly captivating.

#andor show #also the acting is insane #and the set design #it's so well made at every level but i think it starts with the philosophy of the show #andor meta #i guess lol #andor #andor series #listen i love lightsabers and the force and all that #but i don't care that those things aren't part of andor #it's too good #my text #my andor meta

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anjelicawrites · 1 year

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Soft II

Paring: Osferth x reader

Synopsis: soft smut between reader and Osferth. Set in the poly relationship universe

Warnings: cockwarming, smut. 18+ only.

Part I

The only reason you are home to welcome Osferth, is that all parents canceled their meetings with you. It’s a rare occasion and you use it to doll yourself up for no reason but to try the new body wash you’ve bought and a new hairstyle, while listening to your favorite podcasts.

You have just finished the pizza dough when you hear the front door open and by the way your Great Dane - Irish Wolfhound mix scampers to the hallway, you know Osferth is back.

“Babe?” you call.

Osferth doesn’t answer, you hear the sound of his booths falling on the floor and the jiggle of his keys hitting the wood of the hallway table, his tired voice telling Ciarán to heel as he walks with heavy gait to the kitchen.

He stares at you with a surprised glance and you see that he is trying to school his expression, to hide the heaviness of his heart, but you’ve known and loved him for so long, that you can see how dimmed the light in his eyes is, how small the smile he gives you and the redness around his eyes telling you he has cried.

You are immediately alarmed.

“What happened?” - you don’t care that your hands still have leftover dough in them and your apron is covered in flour, cupping his face comes to you as easy as breathing - tell me my love”.

You see the struggle on his features, the control slipping through the fingers of his stubbornness, his instinct is to keep you safe, always. He breaks the moment your thumbs start caressing his cheekbones, your caring touch strips him of his defenses and he crumbles, his arms curl around you in a tight embrace, his face hides against your shoulder and he starts crying, the sobs wreaking his lean frame. You hug him back and start carding your hands through his short hair, sweet nothings leave your lips to console him and he cries even more, moved by your softness and raw acceptance of his feelings. How had he managed for so long without you?

When his tears subside you follow his body has he folds on the floor, face still hidden

“Was it really bad?” your voice is a balm for his frayed nerves

“Yes”.

He doesn’t have the strength to continue; sometimes having to deal with the filth of this earth takes a toll on him, his defenses destroyed. Thank God you are here, reminding him why he works his job.

“I was so much in my head, I didn’t even notice your car”.

Today must have been horrendous, then. Osferth has pretty good space awareness; he might not be at Uhtred's level, but he wouldn't miss your old jeep, if he had, it's because his brain is still focused somewhere else, somewhere bad. You need to act now.

“Come with me, my love” you say, your hands finding his

“Where to?” he’d follow you into Hell, if only you asked

“You deserve to be taken care of”

“You do it, always”

“You need it more, today”.

The “I love you” that leaves his lips is as strong as a mountain and as deep as the sea: accidents might happen, storms might ruin the tranquility, but his feelings will never go away and only God knows the extent of his need for you. Not sexual, just your proximity and care, the knowledge that if he falls, you'll be there to catch him: you are his pillar of strength, he'd be lost without you.

You draw him a bath in between long, sloppy kisses and you remove his clothes, until he is naked, his cock already half hard under your sight.

He sighs when the warm water envelopes his tired body, he lets his head loll back against the rim of the tube, eyes closed to listen better to your movements. He hears you fumbling with one of the bottles, the snap of the cap opening and a soft, lavender scent invades his nose

"I love how your hair smell like when you use this one"

"I know. Lift your head, I have to wet yours"

"Use mine, don't waste yours"

"It's not a waste. I like when you smell like me".

The possessiveness in your tone goes directly to his cock: both he and Aemond adore when you wear their stuff, it's only right that the feeling is mutual: he wants to parade around and people to know to whom he belongs.

With care you help him bend his head back to wet his hair and pour your shampoo directly on it to work a lather, massaging his scalp as he relaxes under your fingers, soft moans leaving his lips. You rinse his hair and repeat, focusing on the back of his head, where you feel stiffness; he is putty by the time you put a bit of conditioner and comb his short strands.

Before you grab the body wash, you remove your shirt and throw it in the general direction of the hamper; Osferth opens his eyes, a dreamy "Boobies" leaves his lips. He loves your breasts so much, they are the perfect size for his hands to hold and their softness is just right; he had spent hours just kissing them and smothering his face against their softness.

"Sit up - you murmur in his ear - I need to wash your back properly"

"May I touch the girls?"

"Yes, you may. But you have to behave"

"Yes miss".

And he just lets his face fall against your breasts, breathing in your scent as you wash his nape and his back to the point your arms can reach.

He mumbles a bit when you remove his face from your chest and stops when you let his hands hold your breast as you lather his front and arms

"I like this bra"

"And there I thought you liked my breasts"

"I do - his voice is slurred, his thumbs caressing your nipples through the material - I love how it shapes them".

He mumbles again when you ask him to stand so that you can wash his lower half, he wants to keep touching your breasts and you tell him he can do that later.

You lather his long legs and make a play of ignoring his cock, hard and red, and concentrate on his thighs, the loofah just brushes lightly against his manhood every time you clean the junction of his groin and leg. A long shudder runs through him when you wash his cock with soft movements, not wanting to hurt him, he is so hard; you can see the muscles of his abdomen clench, his face stoic as he tries to reign in his orgasm.

If he has a thing for your breasts, you have one for his ass, you massage the firm globes until his face is the right shade of red, his breath short.

Delicately you pull on his arms and he sits back into the water

"Close your eyes, I need to rinse your hair".

He follows your command without a second thought, bending his head backwards and you steal a kiss on his pulse point, he laughs breathlessly.

Once you are done with his hair, you stand up and tell him to remain in the water, you are not done with him.

"What is that?" his eyes are half lidded when they stare at your returning form

"Exfoliant. You are going to like it".

He doesn't look too convinced at the small tube in your hands. He knows it's one of these things you and Aemond do and that are absolutely baffling to him; he has been blessed with low maintenance skin and hair, he doesn't need to follow a routine like you two, he just needs whatever soap and shampoo he can put his hands on to be happy with the results.

"It will remove the layers of dead skin on your face"

"I have none" he says, offended

"Everyone has. Even you. Trust me and close your eyes".

He does but he shrieks in surprise when you start rubbing his face, he doesn't expect it to be raspy.

"How do you think it's supposed to remove dead skin, if not like this?".

He doesn't respond, relaxing under your skilled fingers once again. It's unexpectedly good, being pampered like this; he keens when you stop and wash his face.

You grab his bathrobe and help him wear it once he is out of the tub. His erection hasn't faded but the desire he feels is warm in his loins, he is in no hurry to sink inside of you, happy with being taken care of by you. With long brushes you dry his skin and hair, peppering kisses on his face, before rubbing a light layer of cream on his reddened skin.

"You smell like me everywhere now" your voice possessive, your nose scienting the crook of his neck

"I like that. Everyone should know to whom I belong".

His voice is soft, with an undercurrent of possessives you know all too well.

With his head bent a bit forward, he stares up at you from under his lashes, a coy smile on his face while his hand goes to your pants, his fingers hooking there before sliding them down your legs, along with your panties. The skin of his shoulders is soft under your touch, you use his frame for balance to kick your clothes away. With practice he unhooks your bra, letting your breasts free, at once, his hands mold around the soft globes as he sighs tiredly, the warmth of the bath and your ministrations are taking their toll on him.

“We can take a nap, if you want” both his thumbs worry your nipples and your voice comes out breathier than you expected

“It’s not a nap that I need, my beautiful lady”.

His hands take yours and he slowly makes his way to the bedroom, he keeps staring at you from under his lashes, coyness and need in his beautiful eyes.

He wonders if you know the extent of his love for you, if you can understand how deep his feelings run for you: almost three years together and he feels the same way he did the moment he saw you, when he knew that he wouldn't want anyone else.

Osferth knows there are two turning points in his life: when he met you and when Aemond became part of your relationship, his two before and after moments.

His big hands frame your face and he loses himself in your eyes, wishing to know how to put into words how he feels and he can't, the only thing he can do is kiss you, pour all of himself in the act, burning you in the flames of his feelings. You can't help but grab his neck for support, overwhelmed by the forcefulness of his hands crushing your body to his, one hand in your hair, the other on your hip, his tongue on your mouth. You are the vessel for his feelings, ready to receive whatever he needs to give you, to burn for him if necessary.

When your mouths part for air, your legs bobble, his strong body the only thing keeping you up

"Osferth?"

You seek his eyes, the clear blue almost gone, devoured by his enlarged pupils.

His words desert him, he can only help you lie on the bed to attack your body with his lips, kissing all over your face and neck before relenting to stare at you, one big hand caressing your face, his frame obscuring everything else.

"My love, are you all right?"

Like a cat he brushes his face against your hand, needing the soft contact in his bones

"Have me" he murmurs, his forehead against yours

"In any way you want me to".

He kisses you again, softer this time and the way you lose yourself in him is even deeper than before, the care of his lips and hands on your body helps you forget yourself in his earthy scent.

You don't even notice when he turns your entwined bodies until you straddle him.

You stare into his eyes and ground your hips against his cock, once, twice, until hands grab your hips

"Don't tease, I can't, not now" his voice is broken by need.

Taking the reins from him comes to you as natural as breathing, bending forward you kiss him again, slowly, exploring his mouth with your tongue and he lets you with a moan, his body boneless under yours.

"Sit up against the headboard, I want you to be comfortable" you murmur against his mouth.

Osferth scuttles backwards, his eyes hooded and cock painfully engorged. His legs splay for you and you crawl to him, pinning him with the heath in your eyes. A part of him wants to rush you, it's easily overwhelmed by his desire to be taken care of by you, to let go and be yours, he needs this so much it almost hurts.

He lets you straddle his hips and grab his cock to align it with your pussy; his moans of pleasure are drowned by your kisses as you sink on him until he bottoms out.

Your warmth flatlines his brain, he can only moan as you adjust yourself as his arms encircle your lower back and your forehead finds his. You don't do anything else, just letting him feel you tight against him until his face finds your chest and he abandons himself against you with a happy sigh.

You don't know for how long you stay like this, breathing each other in, your arms cradling Osferth's tired head against your bosom. You delicately rock against him and his fingers grab the meat of your hips, his lips kiss the soft skin of your chest in between long moans when you massage his scalp. Without your control your walls curl around his cock and shudders rock his body every time; you don't really want to make this go anywhere, not until he tells you: you know that's the closeness that he needs, not an orgasm and you are happy to give him this for however long he desires this. Being inside of you is his safe place, you will never deny him this feeling.

With a long sigh, he lifts his head from your chest; his eyes are glossy and crystal blue, the planes of his face relaxed, he looks younger than his years and you want to protect him from everything and everyone.

"My love - his voice is broken and small - I need you"

"How do you need me?"

"Ride me, please".

Your hands find his shoulders for purchase as he grabs your ass, your lips are against his, not really kissing but exchanging breaths.

Gently you lift yourself, not all the way and slowly you envelope him again, Osferth's hands grab at the sweaty skin of your back, a moan passes from his lips to yours as you repeat your movements, nice and slow, making him feel every crevice of your cunt, forcing him to bottom out every single time, your breasts sliding easily against his sweaty chest and he moans again and again, one hand sneaking into your hair to keep your lips where they are, his tongue licking at your mouth. He needs you faster but he doesn't want you to stop, he wants to come so much, at the same time his desire is to stay rooted inside your cunt forever, where he knows he is safe.

Your breathing becomes more broken the more you ride him, his cock pushing perfectly against your g spot; you don't want to orgasm just yet, he needs more of you, but his cock is perfect inside your walls, igniting your nerves with each stroke, again and again, his hands moving your body to his leisure. You are not going to last long, you bite down your own lower lip, the pain does nothing to stop your orgasm to crest and crest until his blue eyes find yours and he tells you to come. You clamp around him, forcing his orgasm from him, his hands grabbing uselessly at your skin as you two fall against the headboard, breathless.

When Aemond arrives home, you are on the couch, ebook reader in hand, Osferth snoring softly over you, huddled in a thick sweater and fleece blanket. Aemond recognises the sweater and stares at you with worry in his eyes: Osferth wears that only after a nasty day

"He is fine now, I made sure of that".

Aemond releases the breath he was holding and crouches near the sofa to kiss your mouth and then Osferth's forehead, the latter mumbles something in his sleep and curls his arms tighter around your frame.

It's Aemond who finishes to bake the pizza and you feed it to Osferth, once he is awake.

Taglist: @notyour-valentine

#aemond targaryen x reader x osferth #aemond targaryen x y/n x osferth #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #osferth x reader #osferth x y/n #osferth

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handspunyarns · 2 months

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Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part II.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 6.1K

chapter summary: Din acts horrendously, so Marathel stabs him.

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, violence, sexual assault, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

“This is hyperspace?” asked Marathel. Din grunted something that sounded like an affirmation, so she continued, “It’s different seeing it this way, forwards, than from the side …”

Din was still discomfited by Peli’s words … five days to ‘work it out’ … as well as Peli’s assumption that he had made some kind of formal commitment to Marathel. So, he said, pricklier than he intended, “You don’t have to sit there the whole time.”

“… I’m sorry?”

“We’re in hyperspace, so you can get up and go below.” Din punctuated this statement by flicking off his safety harness.

Marathel quietly said, “Oh,” and then undid the latches on her safety harness, and carefully stood. The Crest was moving smoothly, but she could feel the slight yaw of the ship back and forth under her feet. “Here, Grogu, sit with your father,” said Marathel, placing the boy in the seat she’d just vacated. Grogu looked up at her with sad and confused eyes, so Marathel covered up her own sadness and confusion by ruffling the boy’s hair and whispering, “I warmed the seat up for you,” with a smile. To Din, she said, “Will you tell me if you see a Purrgil? I saw one, while on the transport …”

“A small Purrgil could destroy this ship.”

Marathel frowned. “Well, yes, but …”

“And that would end your trip real quick, wouldn’t it?”

Marathel had expected Din to still be angry with her, but she hadn’t quite expected him to sound like a churlish Hold boy having a tantrum, so she climbed down the ladder to the lower section of the ship. She decided to take a quiet look around the ship, as she hadn’t had an opportunity to do so yet.

The first thing was the vac tube, tucked into an alcove at the bottom of the cockpit ladder. Such an odd place to be, she thought. She stood in front of the vac tube and looked up; she could see clearly into the cockpit. Marathel wondered if Din stood up there and simply aimed downward. This made her smirk as she remembered the Hold boys being so proud of their distance-pissing prowess, as if that were something to be proud of. Boys are born with their hands on their penises, and they never let go, Olba told her once. So proud of that silly piece of flesh. And then they think that we, as women, envy it for ourselves. Well, I’ll be fine without it, thank you very much.

Marathel turned left, seeing an open door. She peered in, seeing a tiny room with a bedroll on the floor and a small hammock strung between the walls in this narrow space. Marathel took a step in, hugging the wall, not wanting to step on what was obviously Din’s bed. This was a private place, and she felt like a trespasser. But then she took a breath, inhaling the male-laden scent, remembering this same scent when she was in darkness. This must be where Din cared for me, she thought, and she felt a deep pang of guilt at her recent treatment of him. He obviously cared for her, perhaps he did love her, and she was hurting him terribly with her actions. Better to hurt him now, rather than destroy him later when he finally understands what a toxic beast I am. I refuse to let him waste any more of his life — the precious time he has remaining with Grogu — on me.

Marathel was backing out of the tiny quarters when she almost stepped on Grogu; fortunately, he squeaked when she got too close. “Hello, little one. I seem to have invaded your private space.” Grogu cooed and reached out with his arms, wanting up. Marathel bent down to pick him up. Grogu squeaked and grunted, pointing to the little hammock. “Is that your little bed? Did you want to show me?”

“Beh!”

“Yes, bed, very good, my love. What’s that in your bed?”

“Fawg!”

“Fawg? Oh, let’s see …” Marathel pushed aside a blanket, revealing a worn felted wool toy frog. “Hello, Fawg, my name is Marathel. I’m a friend of Grogu’s; may I be your friend as well?”

“Ah,” said Grogu.

“Thank you, Fawg!” Marathel picked up the plush toy and gave it to Grogu, who hugged it tightly and began chewing on its arm. “Fawg looks like a well-loved friend, Grogu. I’m glad you have a friend like Fawg.”

Din stood silently at the bottom of the ladder, listening, idly scratching the itch on his chest. She is such a good mother, and Grogu loves her so much. He doesn’t care about her paternity, about her past, or even her — status — in her society … only that she’s giving him the love and attention he craves. He thrived while on Unmanarall, under her care. How could she leave him like this? Never mind me, how could she break that boy’s heart? The idea of her hurting Grogu put a scowl on his face. He didn’t care for that. Not one bit.

Grogu began pointing towards the far end of the ship, across from the hanging box-things that swayed gently back and forth. These, Marathel couldn’t even venture a guess for their purpose. He kept pointing at certain panels that were above some sort of inset cabinet that contained a tiny basin. “So, what’s this, Grogu? Is this important? Special?”

“That’s where the food is kept.”

Marathel gasped and whirled around to see Din standing about a meter away, looking at her. Well, she assumed he was looking at her. “Oh! I …” Marathel took a small step back. “Food storage, Grogu? You must be hungry.”

“He’s always hungry. I have to keep the food storage locked to keep him out of it.”

“Growing boys do need to eat.”

“I am aware of that.” The two of them stared at each other for a few moments while Marathel’s face grew pink. Din asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, yes, I don’t recall … when I ate last.”

“Then you should eat.” Din opened the panel Grogu was reaching for and held out a shallow bin containing ration bars.

Marathel frowned as she took a bar for herself. “Do you … not eat real food?”

“I do not have facilities to cook full meals.”

“Grogu eats these, too?”

Din tilted his helmet, and said, “Ration bars contain appropriate calories, protein, and nutrients.” Marathel hummed quietly as she took a bar for Grogu, and Din could hear disapproval in her tone. “I also have bone broth, and caf,” he said.

“May I make bone broth? I could make some for Grogu … or for you, if you like.”

“I will eat later.” Din showed her where the bone broth was. He turned to go back to the cockpit.

“Din?” called Marathel. “I don’t know how … how to make bone broth on your ship.”

When Din turned back, he saw Marathel with her head down, and the only reason her hands weren’t up her sleeves was because she held Grogu. He found two cups, filled them with water, and showed her how to heat it using the warmer. He then filled a metal canteen from the inset water spigot and said, “Here. Drink. Stay hydrated. Anything else?” Marathel shook her head. “Fine.” Din went back towards the cockpit ladder.

As Marathel stirred the powdered bouillon into the warm water, she muttered, “Poo to you as well, you … knob.” Din paused ever so briefly on the ladder, and Marathel wondered if he had heard her.

He had. His helmet could amplify quiet voices very well, and he thought, like I’ve never been called that before. Not in those exact words, but still.

Marathel and Din didn’t speak to each other for a while after that. He remained in the cockpit. Marathel sat on the floor, drank her broth and ate half of the chewy, flavorless bar while she wound a hank of yarn into a ball by holding the open hank on her bare feet. Then she measured Grogu by holding up her forearm to his little body, casting on stitches to knit something for him. Din was curious as to what she was making — he’d been watching her the whole time on a monitor —while Marathel quietly began singing to Grogu:

“Babi cah’c wyd, babi cah’ch wyd, Rwy’n ni cwrdd’chi ah, Gwthio yn bywyd, gwthio yn bywyd, L’ owd mam ei awr’ah wyd!”

Grogu sat on her legs and watched Marathel’s hands make fabric out of sticks and string as she sang the same verse a few times, alternating with humming the only song melody. The quietness of her voice and the lilting way she sang the song in her Oldtalk was making Grogu sleepy, and he dozed off, laying down on her legs and using her thigh for a pillow. Seeing Grogu sleep made Marathel drowsy as well — she had hardly slept at all the past few days — and her head kept bobbing towards her chest.

After a while, she felt the weight of Grogu being lifted off her legs. “If you’re sleepy, go lie down.”

Marathel lifted her head, still half-dozing. “Mmmm … what?”

Din put Grogu in his hammock, then came back out of his quarters, passing her on his way to the tiny galley. “Go lie down in there.” Din waved his hand towards his bedroll, scratched his chest, then got warm water for caf.

“No.”

“No?” Din turned to her, cup of warm water in his hand. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No, I’m not going to take your bed. I am inconveniencing you enough.”

“Marathel …”

“Where will you sleep?”

“In the cockpit. Now go lie down.”

Marathel scowled at him. “I’m not taking your bed. I will sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on this metal floor; go sleep on the damn bedroll!”

Marathel gathered up her knitting and stood, stepping back into her shoes. “You don’t tell me where to sleep!” she hissed. “I sleep where I choose!”

“FINE! Then no one sleeps comfortably on this trip!” Din stomped off to the cockpit ladder.

“Gwyr’dwp bai,” Marathel muttered under her breath.

“I heard that,” snapped Din, as he put his cup up into the cockpit. He climbed the ladder and made it all the way back to his chair before he realized that he’d forgotten to add the caf crystals to his warm water. Haar’chak! Exasperating woman! He didn’t understand what she’d called him, which annoyed him even more, knowing it was nothing good. He lifted his helmet enough to sip the warm water. There’d been times when there was only warm water and no caf to put in it, so that was nothing new. Sometimes, a ration bar had to last a week, yet Her Highness ap Unmapeth — or whatever in blue fuck she was calling herself — turned up her nose at it. And then she has the nerve to suggest that Grogu isn’t eating properly? And furthermore, why the shab is my skin so itchy? Din sat and stewed for a while, fiddling with the gauges that needed no adjustment, when he heard Marathel’s voice from the bottom of the ladder.

“… Din?”

“What now?”

“I must use the vac tube.”

“You don’t need my permission.”

Din heard Marathel take a frustrated breath through her nose before she asked, “May I have some privacy?” Din closed the cockpit door, and he heard a tart but muffled “Thank you.” Din went back to drinking his warm water, telling himself to not listen, but he listened anyway. It seemed to take a rather long time, even though he knew women took longer for such a thing — he remembered even his mother would disappear into the fresher for quite a while at times, but his father had told him once that she just wanted to get away from the two of them for at least a few minutes. Din could hear Marathel also making quiet moans of pain, reminding him that she was still gravely injured and still healing … and still hurting in both mind and body, and probably bewildered by everything on this ship.

Din chastised himself for his behavior, wondering why he was acting like such an osi’kovid to Marathel. He was frustrated, confused, angry. He forced himself to calm down. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but then she’d know that he had in fact been listening to her most private moments ... and then he wondered if he should offer assistance, but he was afraid she’d answer yes. What is your malfunction, Djarin? You’ve transported women before! You’ve been on weeks-long hunts with women! He sighed and figured that the only difference was that he wasn’t in love with any of those women ... okay, maybe he had the hots for a couple of them but that was nothing. And then there was Xi’an, but that was a disaster of clusterfuck proportions. To compare Xi’an and Marathel would be like comparing chalk to cheese, as his mother would say. Din wondered what would happen if Xi’an and Marathel ever met each other. He chuckled at the thought.

Below, Marathel thought she’d heard Din chuckle, which confused her, since he’d been acting like a right tymffod. She quickly looked up at the door, which was still closed. She was standing, one foot on the edge of the vac-tube, trying to re-insert the dilator with a new antibiotic pessary and she wasn’t succeeding. She’d pinched herself at least twice before she felt she had the thing seated properly within her. She changed out the absorbent pad in her underwear, and then wondered ... what am I supposed to do with this old one? At the palace, there were receptacles for refuse, but not here on this ship, not that she could see. Marathel rolled it up and put it in her pocket. Now where am I supposed to wash my hands? Oh, she didn’t understand this ship at all! And it didn’t help that Din seemed annoyed by every question she asked. She toggled the vac-tube, which not only made a whoosing noise but also appeared to have flames within, which made her jump back. She went over to the basin where the food storage was and saw that the basin seemed to have a drain in it. She poured out a bit of water from the canteen Din had provided into her hands, unsure if this was her water ration just for now or for the next five days. Without the benefit of soap – which Marathel couldn’t see anywhere – she tried to get the blood off her hands using just water and the hem of her shirt.

“Are you all right?”

Marathel gasped again. “Why must you sneak up on me?”

“Did you need something?”

“I couldn’t find soap,” Marathel muttered, still back-to, pulling her sleeves over her hands to hide the blood under her nails, her head down.

Din reached over her shoulder and opened a small storage bin next to the basin. “Soap and towels are in here. I have to keep everything put away; otherwise, it may roll all over the ship. Make sure you put everything back. If you need something, just ask. And ... here,” he said, quietly, kindly, making her turn around in curiosity. Din was holding out two folded blankets to her. “Since you insist on sleeping on the floor, you should have something to sleep on.” Marathel silently took the blankets, confused by Din’s shifting moods. Din noticed the blood under her nails and turned back to the cockpit ladder. As he reached the ladder, he looked down to see a drop of blood on the floor. Din looked back at Marathel, standing silently, hugging the blankets, a tinge of pink in her cheeks. Din opened a storage bin next to the vac tube, and within was a stack of soft cleaning papers. He took one and wiped up the blood drop, tossed the paper into the vac tube, and toggled it. “This vac tube burns everything that goes in it. If you have anything to toss out, just throw it in there. Do you have everything you need? For now?” Marathel nodded, and he could see she was on the verge of tears. Din climbed back up into the cockpit. Marathel dropped the used pad from her pocket into the vac tube, burning it away. She washed her hands, refolded the blankets he’d given her, and made a pallet on the floor. She lay down and pulled her blanket over her.

“Marathel?” Din called.

Oh, Frith, now what? “Yes?”

“Would you like me to turn the lights down?”

Marathel had to swallow some tears; Din’s kindness confused and upset her more than his bad temper. “Yes, please,” she was finally able to say.

The lights above her turned down low, just enough to see by if needed. Surrounded by the glow of all the colored panel lights, Marathel sighed, and closed her eyes to rest.

Reminded of their nights together on Unmanarall, Din sat quietly, listening for any sound she might make, until he became drowsy enough to take a nap himself, so he put his feet up on the console, dozing off, and his last conscious thought was I’m finally alone with her, alone again, after however many days. I have her all to myself again.

But only a short while later, Din was awake once more. He couldn’t get comfortable in his chair, no matter how much he shifted. His chest still had a deep itch, and it had also started to burn, and he couldn’t quite seem to remember why that was important. His mind seemed to be jumping back and forth, with blank spots in between. Was he dreaming? Did he have another head injury? His disorientation alarmed him, so he put his feet on the floor, surrendering to his restlessness.

Din stared out the view shield for a very long time. He knew Marathel was down there, sleeping, not in his quarters, but on the hard floor near the carbonite shells. Stubborn woman! He was really trying, here, trying to be proper and decorous, but that Marathel refused to follow standard rules of protocol. He was trying to be decent to her, knowing that she would probably not have a single creature comfort when he took her back, if she followed through with her plan to become a hermit somewhere in the wilderness. Unless she decides to fucking jump off the cliff as soon as I get her back, the ungrateful …

Din let out his breath in a huff, scratching the rough itchy patch of skin behind his cuirass. What was her game, anyway? Making him take her back, without any explanation? What kind of osi’k was that? What do I have to do, fuck some sense into her?

Din got up from his chair, leaving it spinning as he went down the ladder. There you are, Marathel, my sweet, sweet girl. He could just see her in the low light, that curved lump of flesh under that blanket, hiding from him, mistakenly believing that if she hid under that blanket, he would not know where she was. He stealthily moved across the metal floor, silently, a skill honed by many years in hunting people who didn’t want to be found. Stay right there, Marathel, you be still, thought Din, the bite mark on his chest burning fiercely.

Marathel’s eyes snapped open under her blanket. She wasn’t sure what she had heard that startled her awake, but some noise that wasn’t the constant engine drone had awoken her from her light sleep. Then she heard it: the breathing. Harsh, deep, but still mechanical, as if it were coming from Din’s helmet modulator. She normally didn’t hear him breathe at all, but his breathing let her know that he was coming up behind her. Marathel began to descend into terror – too scared to move but too scared to stay still, and she half-rolled to her back so she could look back over her shoulder ... and there he was. Right behind her.

“Marathel … my pretty girl,” he crooned softly, going to one knee beside her. “Don’t be scared, my sweet girl, my good girl …” Too late, thought Marathel; she was already terrified of this hulking man of metal beside her with his heavy, shuddering breaths, towering over her menacingly. Din pulled his gloves off and they immediately began touching her over the blanket, squeezing her thigh, seeking out her breasts. “Finally, all alone, all to myself again, no one else sniffing around my sweet girl …” He pulled the blanket off her, and her shirt had ridden up in her sleep, exposing her bare midriff, somehow even paler than her face and hands and arms, skin that seemed to brightly reflect the low light levels in this part of the ship.

Uncovering her had released her scent, warm and salty and sweet from her skin, and Din bowed low to her, inhaling deeply. Then he caught it: the scent coming from between her legs, flowing from her sweet, beautiful cunt, also salty and sweet, musky, heady, and she was waiting for him, warm and ripe, waiting for him to split her open and deliver a load into her even though his juice was no good, but his cum would still mark her as his, he wanted to fill her with his cum until it leaked back out of her, and then he’d shove it back in, plug her cunt up with something, he was clever, he could find something in this ship he could use to plug up this pussy and mark it as his, never mind that she was in no physical condition to tolerate his cock inside her, that didn’t matter, she marked him as hers and that meant she was his, and he would tear her apart if he so wished. If she thought he had ruined her before, well, she hadn’t seen anything yet.

He pulled her legs up and forced his body between her tightly clenched thighs so he could lay his head on her pubic mound, and her smell, that warm smell of her juices and the undertone of blood filtered up through her clothing and under the lip of his helmet, the blood smell drove him even more mad as he thought, she marked me, I will mark her as well, and her blood will be mine, if I have anything to say about it!

Din crawled up and lay on top of her, crushing her with the weight of his armor, and she could feel his erection against her leg as his bare hand swept back and forth over her exposed stomach, then slid under her shirt to her breast, roughly pinching her nipple and making her gasp. “Oh, my good girl, your skin, your skin is so good, your smell, I'm going to take you, fill you up right here on this floor …”

Panicked, Marathel felt beside her for something, anything that could help her, and her fingertips found a wooden double point knitting needle in the bag next to her. Forgive me, she thought, as she closed her fingers around the knitting needle. Suddenly, several things happened at once: there was a howl that came from neither herself nor Din, and Din, surprised by the howl, shook himself out of whatever trance he was in, confused as to where he was and what he was doing. Marathel took this moment of Din’s distraction to drive the knitting needle into his bicep three times in quick succession. Din cursed in pain, and he then found himself being force-pulled, slamming against the opposite wall. Disoriented, Din punched the control on his vambrace that turned on the lights, and pulled a blaster as quick as he could.

The lights went up. Marathel was cowering, half-under the carbonite shells, pointing her knitting needle at Din, who was against the opposite wall, pointing a blaster back at her. Grogu, who had been woken up by the commotion, held his hands out to Din, holding him back and away from Marathel.

“What the hell are you doing?” Din shouted at Marathel.

“Me? What the hell are you doing?” Marathel shrieked back.

Din clutched his chest, where the burn of the bite mark was becoming unbearable. What am I doing? What have I done? He looked at Marathel, trembling, her clothing askew, brandishing that knitting needle at him. What did I do? Am I acting out my dreams? Did I try to ... oh, no, Marathel ...Tell me I didn’t! As Din stood, Marathel tried to push herself backwards under the carbonite shells, but he snatched her hand and pulled her to her feet. Holding her tightly by her arm, he dragged a protesting Marathel over to his quarters and practically shoved her in, along with Grogu. He pried the door switch control off the wall and threw it into the tiny quarters as Marathel cringed on his bedroll. “The button next to the door will open and close the door to this room. Only you can control it now, and only from the inside. Don’t open the door unless Grogu is with you, to keep you safe.”

“Safe from whom?”

“From me, apparently! Now close the kriffing door!” Din backed up, whispering, “I’m so sorry, mesh’la.”

Marathel reached out and slapped the button Din had pointed to, and the door of the little room slid shut. She had no way of knowing if Din spoke the truth — that he wouldn’t be able to get in here — but she still had her knitting needle. Grogu was beside her, whimpering and clutching her arm. Marathel hugged him close, saying, “No, no, love, Patu did not hurt me! He wouldn’t hurt me. He was … dream-walking, just dream-walking. Patu had a very bad dream, and he couldn’t wake up, love. Patu just … he just scared me, that’s all. I’m sorry that you were scared by us.” Marathel sniffled but smiled wide. “Grownups do some very strange things, don’t they? Patu must have been dreaming he was fighting someone, don’t you think? What a silly thing to do! Patu must fight a lot of people when he’s awake, so sometimes he must dream he’s fighting. Just like I bet you dream of eating! Eating things like eggs, and bugs, and frogs!” Marathel giggled and tickled Grogu’s tummy until he squealed. “Well, my love, it looks like we get to cwtch together, and take a nice sleep! Maybe we’ll share happy dreams, my little Godynferth.” Grogu cuddled up tightly against Marathel and quickly fell asleep while Marathel lay still, wide-awake, listening to Din move around outside the closed door.

Outside, in the corridor, Din was taking off all his weapons. He obviously couldn’t trust himself with weapons, not around Marathel, possibly not even around Grogu at the moment. The bite mark still burned. He hurriedly put everything, including his vambraces, into the weapons locker, and locked it with a time code. He looked at the closed door of his quarters and he could hear Marathel speaking to Grogu in a bright but calming tone, hopefully alleviating the child’s fears. Din took a breath, feeling a little calmer himself, but his deep breath reinvigorated the scent of Marathel in his sinuses, her warm and heady scent, and he glared at the closed door, wishing that he could open it and crawl in there himself, so he could revel in her musk, but she was locked away, the bitch, she’d locked herself away from him, the teasing cunt!

Din reached under his cuirass and dug his own fingernails into the bite mark, giving him a painful moment of clarity, and he escaped up the cockpit ladder, shutting and sealing the cockpit door behind him, putting a time lock on the door as well. Din keyed in a manual override, but only entered indecipherable gibberish as the passcode, something he’d never be able to replicate. Now he was locked in, away from Marathel, away from his brutal desires.

Those dreams, those horrible dreams, I thought those were bad, but to act on them? How could I do that? And why? What force is behind my thoughts and actions? Marathel could be controlling me through the bite mark, but she couldn’t possibly be making me act like a psychopath!

Din stared at the closed door and wondered if he would have to stay locked up in here the rest of the trip, separated from Marathel until he got her back to Unmanarall, spending the last days he could have with her unable to hold her, unable to touch her. Unable to smell her. Her scent was already gone from the cockpit.

I should have grabbed her blanket. The blanket would smell like her. Smell like her skin, like that sweet pussy of hers.

Din pulled off his cuirass, ripped open his flight jacket, and dug his nails into the bite wound again. The pain was amazing, delicious, and he grunted. He shifted his breeches around his erection, deciding to suffer through the blue balls, rather than reward himself with fleeting pleasure from jerking off. For hours Din sat on the floor of the cockpit, leaning against the door. When he felt the madness coming on, he would grip the bite mark until the pain overtook the craving, driving the toxic lust away. As time passed, the burning became more intermittent, and eventually, ceased altogether.

Din removed his helmet, and then his jacket, and finally his thermal shirt, not only for easy access to the bite mark, but also to see the damage Marathel had done with that damn knitting needle. She had punctured the skin all three times, and pretty damn deep, too. He had never known those things could be so sharp. She punches me in the throat, bites me on the chest, stabs me in the arm. Haar’chak, that woman is more dangerous than Xi’an! Din laughed with how absurd this hunt had become … but also with relief that Marathel had been able to defend herself. It hurt him, that she needed to protect herself from him. If I can’t control myself when I’m near her, then … maybe it’s best that I’m taking her back.

He heard a quiet knocking on the door behind him. “Din?”

“Marathel? What are you doing?”

“Are you all right?”

“I seem to be … I think I’m myself again.”

“What … why did you do that? I never would have expected that from you. You think I’m controlling you through that bite mark, but I never … I know you’re angry with me, but you don’t need to make me scared of you as well.”

“Marathel … I’m so sorry. I’ve been dreaming about … hurting you … like that.” Din put his head in his hands. “Mesh’la … ma’mwsh ha’laa, I’m sorry. I’m … I am angry, and I’m scared, and I’m taking it all out on you, because I don’t understand why this is happening, why I’m compelled to hurt you, both in my dreams and when I’m awake.”

There was a long silence on both sides of the door. Marathel asked, “What can you tell me … what do you remember, in the moments where you feel you’re out of control around me?”

“The bite mark burns. I feel feverish. And I can …” Din stopped speaking.

“You can what?”

“I can smell you. I can smell your … I can smell your scent, and it compels me, forces me to act.” He heard Marathel draw in a shaky breath. “What? What is it?”

“And you feel like you will die if you can’t get … relief?” asked Marathel quietly.

“Yes, that’s right, but … wait. Are you suggesting … I’m going into a Dahl mating cycle?” Din laughed sarcastically. “Marathel, that’s the craziest damn thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Well, maybe since yesterday. “Why in Frith would I be doing that?”

“Dahls are emotional creatures. The Dahls controlled me, I bit you like a female Dahl bites her mate, and now … You’re upset and angry with me.”

“That can’t be. That’s ridiculous.” But the more Din thought about it, the more it made sense. A weird kind of sense that defied reality. But what else has made sense since I met this woman? And then he remembered something about her scent, how he thought she was … ripe. “Marathel, I need to ask, and I’m sorry … are you ovulating?”

“Am I … you know I don’t work right. I’m barren. I told you that.”

“But does that mean that none of your reproductive organs work at all, or …? You can’t keep a pregnancy, or you can’t get pregnant at all, or you’re missing things?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t think the details mattered. And, anyway, my cycles were always so strange and seldom, I was never able to track them to know when I would be ... I have no idea if I’m … what you’re asking.”

“I’m sorry.” Din laughed again. “This is not a conversation I ever expected to have.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Hell, I think this conversation has never been had before in all of time and space, Marathel. You defy explanation and reality.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you’re as confused as I am. It’s lonely over here, not knowing what in Frith is going on, ever.”

Din chuckled. “I have three new holes in my arm. What do you know about that?” asked Din.

Marathel laughed. “I’m sorry about that, but you gave me little choice.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“We seem to be apologizing to each other a lot lately,” said Marathel.

They both were quiet for a while. “Marathel?”

“Yes?”

“What part of the only song were you singing earlier?”

“Oh … the childbirth part. What I said was:

Baby, come now, baby, come now, Our heart breaks to meet you, Push and breathe, push and breathe, Become a mother now!”

Din was confused, for he was sure he’d heard her sing the word rwy’n, part of rwy’n di’rugar, but perhaps rwy’n was like the Mando’a ner kar’ta, literally ‘heart’, as a word comparable to ‘love.’ Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize that Marathel was speaking to him. “What was that?”

“I said I’m sorry for calling you what I did,” said Marathel.

“And what was that?”

“I called you a … Gwyr’dwp bai.”

“And that means …?”

“‘Stupid brat boy.’”

Din snickered. “Well, that’s nowhere near as bad as the time you told me to piss up a rope.” Marathel laughed too. “Marathel… is there an apology part to your only song?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Will you teach it to me?” Din heard only silence from the other side of the door. “Marathel, please, I hate what I did to you, how I dreamed about you. Please teach me how to apologize to you.”

“There is no need for you to apologize. You only acted in the same way I did, under the influence of the Dahls. A compulsion. A need.”

“Damn it, Marathel, there’s more between us than just a compulsion to mate!” Marathel was quiet for a long time. Din waited pensively for her response before asking quietly, “Isn’t there?” Still nothing. “Marathel, ner kar’ta ... please say something.”

“When will you open this door?”

The shab? “The door is on a timer. It will open in about ten hours.”

“I don’t know how long ten hours is.”

“I don’t know how many loaves of bread ten hours is.” Din chuckled at his own bad joke, but Marathel remained silent. “Ten hours is a very long sleep. It’s almost half a Basic day. I’ll warn you before the door opens.” Din urgently hoped for a response. “Marathel, I ...”

“I’m going to lie down. Goodnight, Bounty Hunter.”

Bounty Hunter. I’m Bounty Hunter again. Before Din could speak, he heard Marathel climb back down the ladder, and then he heard his quarters door slide shut.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #mando angst #din djarin angst #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #pedropascaledit #pedro pascal stories #pedrohub #starwarsficnetwork #din x afab oc #din x plus size fem oc #mando x fem oc #mando x plus size oc

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tgrailwar-zero · 5 months

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THGW-Zero, Chapter 4 - Battle Against the Beast

With a sudden attack, and a surge of power from his Masters, CONSTANTINE attacked. His blade carving into the back of the Beast, as she let out a pained screech as he echoed with an angered growl.

CONSTANTINE: "Die, Beast!"

His blade dug deeper into her back, her weakened form unable to react in time. DRACO snarled.

DRACO: "Gh…! You blackguards! I was a fool to place my trust in you again! Superbia! Destroy them!"

The Beast roared, enraged by this sudden betrayal, her draconic tail lashing out and striking RIDER, pushing him back. The mighty form of ALTER-EGO began to move, as KUKULKAN began to slowly gather up energy as the assault began.

With a grin, PRETENDER stepped next to MUSASHI, chuckling.

PRETENDER: "Oho, now things are getting interesting! Let's give Invader some space and fend off the giant, shall we?" MUSASHI: "Right! Okay, everyone! Let's hold back Alter-Ego!"

CONSTANTINE: "...Thank you for your support, Masters! Now, let us enact our justice!"

You could sense CONSTANTINE's gratitude, though it was briefly overshadowed by the murderous intent emanating from DRACO and ALTER-EGO.

ALTER-EGO: "Oh, I was just waiting for you all to screw up. Come here so I can squish you like the bugs you are!"

As best as they could, CONSTANTINE, PRETENDER and MUSASHI began holding back ALTER-EGO, in an attempt to block her from interrupting the Noble Phantasm of INVADER.

KUKULKAN had proclaimed herself to be a god before- and while powerful, she had used her Authority sparingly.

Powerful, yet restrained.

She would rush into battle like a missile, smiling all the while. However, her might was much, much greater.

And now, her shackles were undone with the command to use her Noble Phantasm.

She began to glow with a vibrant light, that slowly expanded until her form was no longer visible- the only thing remaining being a gigantic, blinding pillar of light that shot up into the stratosphere.

The might of an Anti-World Noble Phantasm. One that- if even for a moment- redefined the rules of reality... and therefore the 'laws' that held the Solar Cell together.

This pillar of light was as clear as day- not just to the people within the city, but to anyone who lived within the Solar Cell. The Nameless City was a central metropolis, and therefore anyone looking to the horizon towards the city would see this miracle take place, and while only those who lived within the confines of the city could hear the words spoken by the solar titan that was being formed by the pillar, that echoed enough to cause buildings to shake and clouds to split.

KUKULKAN: "I hail from the empty sky! Building up the earth… looking down from the heavens…"

The form of a woman- of KUKULKAN- slowly became visible within the blinding light as the world contorted and strained to even fit her presence.

KUKULKAN: "Meaning-- I am the Sun!"

The declaration reverberated throughout the Nameless City- as if time itself stilled. Such a declaration was one of authority over the Solar Cell- worthiness of overseeing the life that resided there.

Staring up at the Sun, with rage in her eyes, DRACO shot upwards.

DRACO: "My dragons! To me!"

In a moment, the four draconic heads that had once terrorized other parts of the city left their posts and sprouted up towards the towering god, jaws snapping and teeth gnashing as they attempted to seize a counterattack, or at the very least a final defense.

A shadow shot into the air, a calm voice filling the night sky.

MUSASHI: "…Hayagrīva… use my rage to sever all evil…"

In a flash, with four strokes of her sword, four dragon heads collapsed. One to a raging torrent of water, another to a crash of earthen steel, one more to a gust of razor winds, and a final to a gut of violent flame. The look in the swordmasters eyes was cold, focused on the moment at hand, as her technique was far from over.

MUSASHI: "This sword is my path to the void, my very life! Ishana, Daitenshou!"

The swordmaster drew her sword once more, the ringing sound of metal carving through the air.

The final stroke, a moment of perfected swordplay, sliced through the body of the larval Beast with perfect accuracy, a cascade of blood filling the night sky as the samurai cleaved an opening for the massive sun-god to strike.

The hand of the burning deity began to crash downward- seemingly slow at first, before the illusion of distance broke and the strike was revealed to be moving at a breakneck pace.

KUKULKAN: "--Kinich Ahau Impact!"

In a moment of stringent beauty, the great sun god made contact with the Beast, a wave of light rocketing outward and painting the sky of the Solar Cell into that of a bright sunny day, if only for a moment. For a moment, night was gone and replaced only by the overwhelming might of the Sun.

The declared name of 'Kinich Ahau' within the Noble Phantasm only served to establish the legitimacy of what everyone was witnessing.

And therefore- all of the Servants that had struggled against the heads of the Beast could only watch in quiet awe.

The Beast, her body thoroughly destroyed, only had a moment to herself as she burned up in the undeniable presence of the Sun.

As the daylight faded, the Beast stared hopelessly into the night sky.

DRACO: "…Ah, right… this is how it should be… the Beast of the Apocalypse falls down to the earth… and the Emperor dies alone… but..."

DRACO: "...I'm sorry, my Master... I... couldn't..."

Like sand swept away by the sea, the Beast of the Apocalypse, DRACO, disappeared from the Solar Cell.

With exhaustion, the massive shining god also faded, as KUKULKAN returned to the ground- her body swiftly caught by CONSTANTINE in gentlemanly fashion.

Her 'Master' gone, ALTER-EGO stumbled backwards, crashing into the wall with blank, dazed eyes.

There was a long moment of silence, before…

Sound.

A noise, like a rushing wave filled the air and swirled into the catacombs where your Servants stood.

The sound of applause. Praise. Cheers. Relief, that the city and the Solar Cell had been saved. Amazement at the shining, towering god that had manifested itself in such a central spot of this city.

The denizens of the Solar Cell exclaiming with true, uproarious gratitude.

The warmth that came with it, a grand feeling of heroism that washed over your Servants as they found themselves worn from this short, intense bout. Drained of magical energy, but otherwise still standing proudly as the remnants of the Beast disappeared.

You felt the Crimson Blade you once held go cold and inert, the flames sparking out.

In the midst of the cheers, MUSASHI finally landed down on the ground, holding out two objects.

MUSASHI: "…And here our spoils of our victory. You wanted this severed, right?"

It seems you acquired some new items... but lost the Crimson Blade.

KUKULKAN: "Ah- are the people of the city cheering for us? I'm a little embarrassed, but that means we won, yes?"

You saw CONSTANTINE step out, relieved. His armor was a bit bruised and dented- the one attack DRACO landing apparently quite the hefty one as he leaned against some of the rubble in the now-fading theatre.

CONSTANTINE: "The Beast is felled… thank goodness. but, what of Alter-Ego? What will happen to her?"

Stepping over to the dazed ALTER-EGO, PRETENDER patted her on the leg.

PRETENDER: "She's a big girl. I'll take her back to MoonCancer- see if we can't set her back to normal. MoonCancer's a smart lady, if anyone can fix Alter-Ego, it's her."

KUKULKAN: "Ay, she took a direct hit from my Noble Phantasm, and she's mostly just singed… it seems like the Blue Faction has a really scary Servant, doesn't it?"

A few sparse laughs shared between the group, before MUSASHI perked up, pointing her swords towards the entrance.

MUSASHI: "We're not alone- heads up."

As if suddenly having apparated within the space- the PRIEST that you encountered during your latest conversation with that 'NARRATING VOICE'- the one that had sealed your ability to acquire items from shops.

You hadn't noticed his arrival. If he had ill intent, he probably could have easily assassinated CONSTANTINE or KUKULKAN. Luckily, it didn't seem as if he held any ill intent- or if he did, he wasn't acting on it currently.

PRIEST: "I apologize for startling you. As one of the War Monitors, I was meaning to congratulate you on a job well-done once you finished your conversation. And I did have an agreement with your Masters… but please, do not rush on my account."

The PRIEST smiled.

PRIEST: "Frankly, it seems as if you've been quite busy indeed. A display like that certainly takes a lot of magical energy. Perhaps you and your Servants should take a well-deserved rest before making any further moves."

[ Lucius Origin obtained.] [ Asclepius Origin obtained.] [ Crimson Blade lost! ]

#thgw story #main post #thgw: chapter 4 #long post #yes even for this #this is a 'i saw where the polls are at with the average number of participants and figured it'd just be redundant to wait' choice.#powered up attack + 2 nps #think of it like an early christmas present or something #also the formatting is different because tumblr is already threatening to explode from everything going on in this post

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blasphemecel · 1 year

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Miya Osamu, Suna Rintaro — Parabola

PAIRING(S): Miya Osamu/Reader, Suna Rintaro/Reader WORD COUNT: 8k TYPE: Childhood Friends, Pining, Coming of Age, Angst, Fluff, Humor WARNING(S): Mention of an animal/pet dying (non-graphic), smoking cigarettes and drinking, there is a kiss that happens while both parties are drunk

ACT I: MISFORTUNE

For Osamu, it starts in the womb because Atsumu is his brother.

ACT II: LOVE IS NASTY

“The heart,” you say, “is an organ.”

Osamu is thirteen years old and this is the worst presentation he has ever seen, which is an impressive feat on your part. It’s obvious you haven’t memorized any of this and are ‘subtly’ reading from both the smudged handwriting on your palm and the crumpled sheet of paper in your grasp, so how this is the best you managed to come up with is beyond him. Sometimes your idiocy is on-par with Atsumu’s.

Your tone is bored and your eyes glaze over like you’re not thinking about it at all. This is literature class, and a statement as clinical as ‘the heart is an organ’ probably wouldn’t be present in a half-decent interpretation of a poem.

He has known you since he was in diapers. Such sensitivities are outside your element, he’s aware of that.

Osamu wonders what he would’ve done if he got your topic when they all drew lots a few weeks ago. It’s a love poem, and as such, the subject matter is a bit disgusting to him. When he thinks about love, he thinks of his parents being embarrassing in the parking lot and the grocery store, and when Atsumu’s first crush got lice and he tried to contract them so they’d ‘understand each other better.’

After some musing, Osamu decides the heart is indeed an organ.

Your desk is next to his, and when you sit back down, you ask, “Was it really that bad?”

“I hope I never get ya as a presentation partner,” he says.

ACT III, BACKTRACK: ‘TSUMU IS LAME

Atsumu struts up to you like he has life changing news. You raise an eyebrow.

“We’ve got new names,” he announces and expects amazement. Osamu lingers behind him with the same vacant look on his face.

You ask, “Yeah? And what are they?”

“I’m ‘Tsumu and he’s ‘Samu.”

“But that’s so stupid,” you say. “Those are just yer names without the first letters. They ain’t new.”

“... Shut it, you,” Atsumu settles on once it’s clear he can’t refute your statement, balling his hands into fists.

“Whatever,” you say. “Are ya still gonna compete over who can push me harder on the swings?”

“No! Screw you. Not after this disrespect,” he dramaticizes, and when you don’t immediately grovel for forgiveness, he stomps away. “Not in a million years,” he calls over his shoulders, words growing quieter the farther he disappears. “Never again!”

You blow a farting noise at him in his departure.

Osamu sighs as if this is incredibly inconvenient. “Fine. I guess I hafta do it.”

“If it was me, I’d change my name to Don Widdershins.”

“Don Widdershins?”

“Ya know, Don,” you gesture vaguely in the air, “like in the mafia.”

ACT IV: ‘SAMU IS COOL

The way you and Atsumu are staring at him, someone would think Osamu has revealed he’s versed in the craft of wizardry, or that casting spells is possible at all. You’re wearing your embarrassing Buzz Lightyear shorts and ‘Tsumu is smacking him on the shoulder. “C’mon, hurry up.”

“That’s not how the stove works,” Osamu barks.

“Not with that attitude, no. You said it’s a quick meal.”

Osamu shoves him away. “Get out!”

“What?! So [Y/n] gets to stay, but I don’t?”

You pull down on your eyelid and stick out your tongue at him. “‘Tsumu, ya know your brother loves me more than you.”

Osamu is now tempted to get rid of you, too. Really, he doesn’t see why two shitheads need to interrupt something that’s supposed to be soothing for him, but at least the smell of the sukiyaki he’s preparing calms him.

“Shut up,” Atsumu says before he invades his brother’s personal space to clutch onto his shirt and shake him back and forth. He slaps him off and mutters something about ‘Do ya know how dangerous that is?!’ but Atsumu is inconsolable in his whining. “‘Samu, say it’s not true!”

“Ha, I knew it.” You back away and point your index finger in the air with a sense of triumph. “Ya don’t really hate him.”

“What did you say?”

At least when the two of you are chasing each other, no one can bother him.

ACT V: GIANT BABA

Atsumu is sprawled over the couch, hogging it as usual. You’re sitting next to Osamu on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, and he has one hand around your shoulders. Or not really: he’s brushing it against the edge of the couch, not touching you at all, but in his head he has his arm around your shoulders. There’s the usual pronounced boredom on his face while he clicks through the TV channels.

“Who said you can take charge of the remote?” asks Atsumu, poking the back of Osamu’s head with his finger.

“When ya decided to monopolize the couch, I got remote rights.”

Atsumu repeats in a sardonic tone, “When I decided to monopolize the couch.”

Everything seems boring until he ends up on a sports channel. For a second he wonders if it’s going to be volleyball, but it’s a rerun of an old wrestling match. He’s about to go onto the next broadcast, but he glances at you from the corner of his eye and notices an unfamiliar spark on your face, so he discards the remote to his side.

“Ya know, I wanna be a wrestler.”

Osamu thinks this is an incredibly stupid aspiration, but he prides himself on being the more considerate one. “What’s yer stage name gonna be? Don Widdershins?”

“Oh, you still remember that? Yer so weird, ‘Samu.”

For a split second, he is embarrassed.

“The hell does widdershins mean?” Atsumu asks.

“It’s the opposite of clockwise,” you say.

Huh. When he first heard it, Osamu just assumed you made that word up. “Why’d ya wanna be named that?”

“‘Cause shins means crotch, and that’s funny.”

“No, idiot. That’s yer knee to yer ankle,” corrects Atsumu.

“The crotch is not in the ankle.”

Atsumu sits up, lunges over, and tries to put you in a chokehold. Lightly.

ACT VI: YOU’RE LAME

This is the worst summer Osamu has ever had. Not because anything bad has happened, but because, every day, when he sees you, it’s like you have spawned another pair of unbelievably hideous shorts. He wonders if this is some kind of sick joke when he sees Rey Mysterio’s face on the back of your leg. He wonders when he gained the ability to recognize Rey Mysterio at all. “Where do ya keep getting these?”

“They’re custom-made,” you say.

“Why would you do that.”

“In the name of style.”

ACT VII: THE PURCHASE

There is nothing particularly compelling about a rack with sunglasses at a store which sells a random assortment of things. Atsumu wanted to buy knee pads and Osamu has a package of frozen vegetables in his hand. There is no rhyme or reason for the variety of products at this shop.

You’re crouching down and leafing through the price tags. There’s a crease in the print of your shorts in this position that makes it look like Spongebob has no nose and Patrick has been decapitated. He says, “You’ve been staring at ‘em for, like, fifteen minutes.”

“I wanna buy some,” you reason before you seemingly make up your mind and pick a pair.

“But you’ve already got sunglasses.”

“Yeah, but they’re for TINY BABIES who SHIT THEIR PANTS,” you say, and Osamu backs away from you at your outburst. “So, I need new ones. For graduation day.”

“... Sure,” he concedes. Osamu isn’t sure what sunglasses have to do with graduation day, but it is true that the ceremony is two weeks away.

“Thank you.”

ACT VIII: LOVE IS CONDITIONAL

The heart, Osamu thinks, is a stupid organ.

There’s no reason for lunch at school to be his favorite part of his routine, except maybe the food.

Atsumu pushes all the things off his tray and flings it at you. “Yer late again, asshole!”

You dodge as skillfully as usual and pull out a chair with uncanny nonchalance. Your coordination is a bit surprising considering the latest hindrance to your vision, but Osamu supposes you must’ve gotten used to everything being slightly dim with how often you do this bullshit. “I do a ton a’ crappin’.”

“Don’t talk about that when I’m eating, ass,” Osamu scolds, elbowing you when you settle in the space next to him. Sometimes, he thinks his role in this seating arrangement is to prevent a casualty from happening between you and his brother.

He has revised some of his opinions now. Seeing as he’s no longer eleven, Osamu doesn’t believe in cooties or other similar mythological figures, but he’s still not entirely sold on the idea. No matter how many times Atsumu mocks him for ‘liking you,’ he’ll never accept it.

For love to not be nasty, it must fulfill certain conditions.

Osamu has a list for why he doesn’t — and will never — like you like that:

You wear sunglasses indoors.

You own a pair of shorts with the minions on them.

You have a cardboard cut-out of John Cena somewhere in your room.

You ruin meal time by talking about your shitting habits.

You tried to suplex him once.

Similarly, whenever you insist he and Atsumu don’t really hate each other, he refutes you. There are several reasons Osamu hates his brother:

Everyone else does.

He’s incredibly annoying.

He’s a jerk.

He always wins when it matters.

Sometimes, Osamu gets the impression Atsumu can’t stand him much at all.

So, again, he doesn’t know why these moments make him the happiest.

He wonders if there will still be days like these in high school.

ACT IX: THE MEDIATOR

On the way there, you’re wearing your sunglasses again, but at least it’s not indoors. The pavement smells weird — burnt — from the unusual heat of this summer. You’re also lugging around a water gun, but Osamu decides not to question it, even though Atsumu does. “Why do ya have that?”

“Didn’t you hear? Yosano from our class wants to have a water gun fight in the park after the ceremony.”

Not really. The thing is, no one (besides you; anyone who is sound of mind) invites them to play games anymore ‘cause they’re always winning and it’s not fun.

“Is it loaded?” asks Atsumu again.

“I know [Y/n] likes to pretend to be in the mafia and all, but that’s not a real gun, idiot,” Osamu says, voice even.

Atsumu snaps his neck in Osamu’s direction. “Shut up, I know it ain’t.” He shoves him, and that provokes Osamu into shoving him back, and before you can even rationalize all this, you turn back around to ask them why they’re dawdling behind only to see they’re already in a scuffle.

Suddenly, water is trickling down Atsumu’s forehead.

They snap up to scrutinize you from their position, with Osamu toppled over on the ground and Atsumu half-assedly pretending he’s really going to kick him in the face, and they see you aiming the water gun at them. Atsumu backs away from him completely and hurries to lunge at you instead. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that!”

He doesn’t even make it half-way to where you’re standing before you spurt more water at him, leaving him to still with his hands mid-air. Osamu sits up, face as indifferent as ever, but in his mind he finds this relatively funny.

Another step. You pull the trigger and laugh at him. “Ya remind me of a wet owl. They’re hideous like that, I saw a picture the other night.”

It is predictable that Atsumu reaches out to murder you in broad daylight, so your instantaneous reaction isn’t a display of impressive reflexes. More water spritzes at him, and Atsumu shakes his head around like a wet dog.

Osamu isn’t one to laugh, but he exhales slightly more air from his nose at this.

“Stop that, you jerk. I’m gonna be drenched at the ceremony. And-” he slaps Osamu on the neck, “-quit laughing. You’d look like a wet owl, too.”

You shake the water gun. “I think I’ll call this The Twin Repellant.”

“Ya think yer funny,” says Atsumu with narrowed eyes, and then he huffs and puts his hands on his hips. “How come ‘Samu didn’t get sprayed? I concur!”

“Concur,” you repeat. “Such a big word, ‘Tsumu. But that means agree, not disagree.”

“Yeah, well, you think shins means crotch.”

“I was fourteen!”

“Yeah, grow up,” Osamu chimes in, and then inches closer to you to flick the water gun. “Ya should name that thing The ‘Tsumu Repellant instead.”

ACT X: THE SECOND COMING OF THE JAPANESE BUZZSAW

“Do ya need to wear these everywhere?” asks Osamu when he spares you a glance and lets the onigiri he’d been eating drop down to his plate before he tries to snatch away your sunglasses, and his willingness to ignore his food for a second is probably a testament to how much he hates them. As usual, you’re late for lunch, and as usual, you duck out of the way without much effort.

You believe a flash of your middle finger suffices as an answer. Your chair scrapes against the floor, resulting in a noise that makes him cringe.

Atsumu — tapping into his otherwise unused potential to be aware of others — senses abnormal levels of smugness radiating from you. “You got somethin’ to be happy about, twerp?”

You lean back in your seat and grin, perhaps ruminating the fruits of your labor, whatever they may be. To bring you back to Earth, Osamu nudges you. “Well?” he asks, and though his tone suggests he doesn’t care, you know he wouldn’t be insisting to hear it if he didn’t.

“Ladies an’ gentlemen-”

“Where are the ladies?” Atsumu asks, shifting his eyes to Osamu, and then at his reflection in his tray.

“-you’re lookin’ at the new MMA club captain.”

“We don’t have an MMA club,” says Atsumu, tilting his head.

“Yeah, ‘cause I just made it yesterday.”

“But I thought you liked wrestling?” Osamu presses.

“Well, they didn’t approve of wrestling. So it’s an MMA club, but in my heart, it’s a wrestling club,” you say, leaning the weight of your head against your palm. Sure, there are only four members in your club and the supervisor said he’d be absent most days, but who cares? That’s all you had needed to officiate it.

“Sounds like an excuse to beat on each other to me,” says Osamu. You’ve always had a penchant for violence despite not having a particularly aggressive disposition. It confuses him.

You smirk, adjusting your sunglasses. He thinks one of these days you’ll fall down the stairs and hit your head. “Maybe.”

ACT XI: ‘TSUMU IS LAME

“‘Tsumu,” you begin, walking along with them after the first big official match of the year. Osamu and Suna are trailing behind you two, watching something on Suna’s phone. “You’re such an asshole.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ya know, in moments like these, yer supposed to be cheering me on for my good plays, not chewing me out.”

“I can’t believe you called those girls pigs.” Osamu doesn’t quite remember another instance of your voice sounding so… reprimanding.

“They were annoyin’ me,” he says, like someone being irritating justifies calling them names.

“And,” you imitate his signal for when he wants your school’s side of the court to go quiet, “the hell’s that?”

Osamu pipes up, “I always tell him that shit’s lame, but he won’t listen.”

“Agh! I hate it when you guys gang up on me.” He blows a raspberry in your direction and Osamu kicks him in the butt, which makes him jump.

You sigh, close your eyes and intertwine your fingers behind your head. “Man, I wish I had fans. I’d treat ‘em so much better.”

“Aha, so you’re jealous of me.”

ACT XII, BACKTRACK: YOU’RE LAME

Much to your dismay, the first time they come over, Atsumu doesn’t care much about your fish, passing by his aquarium without a second thought. You frown, and in a bout of pity, Osamu halts in front of it and examines him with the blankest look possible. He seems kinda big — for a fish, anyway, but the tank seems just fine — and he doesn’t know the name of the species. A black body with red splotches and a sheen of silver here and there, and his face is kinda… grumpy. Frowny.

“What kinda fish is this?” asks Osamu once he deems enough time of him staring at your pet has passed.

“He’s a tiger oscar.”

“Oh, let me guess. His name’s Oscar, right?”

“No,” you say. “It’s The Codfather.”

Osamu blinks, and then he groans, and then he drags his hand down his face.

ACT XIII: SUNARIN IS AN ENEMY

It’s not like Osamu needs to introduce you to Suna. You know who Suna is, and he knows who you are, and the three of you are all in the same class. This is a tad too absurd for him — you think some shit like this would suit Atsumu more — but whatever. You’re here now, and you’re being introduced to Osamu’s friend, and you suppose this might be a hint that you’ll be seeing more of him at lunch.

You cross your arms and turn up your nose. “I’m ‘Samu’s best friend.”

Suna stares at you impassively. “… Ok.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“I don’t think so,” Suna says without elaborating, though it is true that because of volleyball, Osamu spends more time with him now. While he couldn’t care less about what you were talking about, he loves fucking with people far too much not to try checking how short your fuse is.

Osamu elbows you once he realizes you’re about to say something embarrassing. “Stop.”

You elbow him back. “I’m fighting for yer honor!”

“No, you ain’t.”

Suna takes a picture of you nudging and baring your teeth and throwing food at each other and writes #besties in Comic Sans with the editor on his phone.

ACT XIV, REPRISE: THE MEDIATOR

To claim you’ve never seen Atsumu and Osamu get into a petty argument and try to solve it by exterminating the other would be a bold-faced lie. Suna already has his phone out to record it all, but this is the first time you’re both present during one of their brawls.

Carrying a water gun to school everyday wouldn’t be viable, so The Twin Repellent has gone under some revisions ever since your genius mind first incorporated it. You sling over your bag and touch around for something while Suna struggles to remember what they’re even fighting about, but quickly concludes it doesn’t matter. A look of eureka flares over your face and you unhinge your jaw to grin an unnaturally wide smile when you find what you were scouting for.

First it was an empty spray paint can you refilled, but now it’s a real water spray… The new and improved Twin Repellent. You wave it in the air before you stagger into frame and Suna raises an eyebrow at your intrusion, hoping your figure won’t block his angle for recording the action. But then you’re dousing them, and Osamu hisses like he’s demonic and the water is holy, and Atsumu is covering his face and screaming, “Stop it! Stoooop!”

Holy shit. This is the best recording he has yet.

And this is when Suna decides that despite your annoying and sometimes embarrassing demeanor, he likes you just fine.

Later, when you’re watching them practice, Suna asks you what that was.

You pull out the water spray and trail your finger from top to bottom like it is your greatest treasure. “This is The Twin Repellent.”

“Give me that.” He snatches it out of your grasp and you pout before saying,

“Use it wisely.”

Suna marches up to Atsumu and drizzles him for no reason.

ACT XV: SUNARIN IS SOMETIMES AN ALLY

Osamu ends up confiscating The Twin Repellent from Suna. For a second, he wonders if revenge will befall him, but instead Osamu sprays you in the face and says, “Take ‘em off.”

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him with a semblance of hatred before you try to wipe your sunglasses on your shirt. They’re smudged now.

It is not long after that Suna reappears and takes hold of it once more and aims for his forehead instead of Atsumu’s. Osamu squeezes his eyes shut and says, “You two-faced backstabber…”

You’re about to celebrate — perhaps go for a high-five — but he stops you in your tracks by spraying you, too.

ACT XVI: SERIOUS BUSINESS

“MMA Club?” asks Suna. The filling of his strange sandwich is dripping all over the table. “Never heard of it. You don’t even look like you can throw hands.”

“Ha?!” With that, you stand up and perform a spinning kick dangerously close to Osamu’s head, and he puts his hand on your ankle and lowers your leg without so much as flinching. “Ya don’t wanna tussle with me, I promise.”

Suna considers it before he shrugs, the jerk of his shoulders letting the miserable contents of his sandwich crawl out and spill. Then, with his tongue poking out, Atsumu dips his finger in and draws a smiley face on his side of the table. “Probably not. I’m a pretty boy, I don’t fight. I only laugh at the people doing it.”

ACT XVII: YOU’RE COOL

“Hurry, hurry,” Atsumu urges, which is unusual since he’s always the one who’s late to things that don’t pertain to volleyball. “I wanna see [Y/n] beat the shit outta someone.”

“I don’t think that’s how MMA works,” says Suna before he kicks away a stray pebble to the side. It lands between Osamu’s shoes, and he boots it out of sight with a dusty drag of his foot against the pavement. Suna watches this unfold like it is way more riveting than your match could possibly be. The fact that you arranged a match with a club from a different school is anomalous enough.

It had been Osamu’s idea to show up, not Atsumu’s. While he’s not thrilled about MMA, or wrestling, or whatever, he thinks they kind of owe it to you for showing up to every game.

Five minutes of watching pass, and he doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he thinks you might be winning. With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he raises his fist in the air and says, “Go for the neck.”

While it’s not loud enough for you to hear, when Atsumu stands up and yells, “Go for the neck! Go for the neck!” that definitely should be.

You do not go for the neck. This time, Suna doesn’t tell them he believes punching the throat is against the rules, and Osamu takes a glimpse at him and sees he’s recording.

Your lip is busted, but you win, and after the celebration at some shitty near-by fast food place — much to Osamu’s horror — he asks Suna to show him the video. It takes exactly twenty seconds to load and during half of it, his shoes are in frame rather than the fight.

Instead of criticizing his cinematography, Osamu says, “Yer camera’s really shitty. I can count the pixels.”

“But that’s what makes it funny,” Suna argues, even though he has not let out even a giggle ever since he pressed play.

ACT XVIII: THE GODFATHER

He can’t believe he’s attending a funeral for a fish at his age. It’s even raining (would a hypothetical omnipresent higher power cry over the loss of a fish?) and he thinks if this was a scene in a movie, he’d laugh, but you’re anything but amused.

His hair is sticking to his forehead and his clothes are drenched and he’s vaguely aware that there’s mud on his ass. When it first began raining, as an act of consolation, he threw his tracksuit over your head, but the downpour has been so severe that it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s like getting disciplined with The Twin Repellant until it runs out fifty times in a row.

Osamu has known you for many years, but he can’t say he has seen you sob before. The tombstone — a plant marker you wrote ‘THE CODFATHER 2002-2013’ over with a marker — almost topples over and he reaches out to adjust it. He tries, “He lived a long life.”

“They can make it to twenty,” you say, burying your face in your arms, hiding it from view.

“Is this good for the garden?”

“I don’t give a shit about the garden.”

So maybe Osamu wasn’t ever The Codfather’s friend, but it is a fact that he stays out for the funeral until lights out, and it is a fact that he gets sick because of it.

ACT XIX: THE THINGS YOU LIKE COME WITH A WARNING

Suna lights up the cigarette and you can tell it’s not his first time. He’s silent when he joins you on the curb, throwing one leg over the other, and you didn’t know that about him, and he didn’t know that about you. Your neighborhood has always been quiet enough, not that many cars passing by, so the fear of getting your feet run over for sitting here like this doesn’t cross your mind much.

Conversationally, he says, “I heard you got depressed over a fish.”

You narrow your eyes at him in distaste, but he can’t really see under the sunglasses. “Not even one bad word about The Codfather.”

You’d probably whoop him so he resists the urge to repeat ‘The Codfather?’ in an incredulous tone. He’s not taking any chances today. “No, but Atsumu called Osamu weak trash for missing practice.”

“Yeah, you’re an athlete, why are ya smokin’?” you ask, changing the topic.

Suna wrinkles his nose. “So are you.”

“C’mon, ya barely consider the MMA club a real club.”

“But I do,” he says. “I just like to give you shit for it.”

“If the body is a temple, mine’s like, like… The kind animals shit in.” You smile at him.

He smiles at you just a little. “If Kita caught me, he’d say something like ‘That is incredibly irresponsible. Besides, the box says smoking kills. Can’t you read?’ and I’d quit.”

“You know, I never realized, but yer kinda funny.”

“You never realized,” he repeats. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve bought his apathy and thought he wasn’t offended.

ACT XX: BAD NURSE NAKAMURA

Osamu doesn’t think it should be feasible for life to kick someone when they’re already down.

He wipes his snot with his sleeve after a ‘hefty’ recovery, which may or may not have been motivated by Atsumu whining at him all night until he agreed to go to school today, then sniffles. What the fuck is wrong with him, he thinks, and he doesn’t know if he’s thinking it about his brother or about himself.

You look like a sad puppy when he first sees you that morning. Like, the ones that are at the shelter because they got abandoned by who they thought were their loving owners.

“Is something wrong?” he asks. He’s not in the mood for another funeral. (More importantly, he wants you to stop looking so glum.)

“The club disbanded.”

It’s not that strange for a club with only six members to fall apart, but just to fill the space, Osamu asks, “Why?”

“They said it reflects badly on the school.”

“That sucks ass and is stupid as fuck.” Osamu wraps his hand around your shoulder in a shitty, stiff kind of way. And he’s not one to give speeches, doesn’t know what to do about this, but he gives you his bento for lunch and helps Atsumu write a ‘strongly-worded’ letter addressing the staff and hopes it’s enough.

ACT XXI: KITA IS NO-NONSENSE

“The volleyball club,” Kita asserts, “doesn’t need a bodyguard. We’ve been over this.”

“You don’t have a manager, though,” you say, rubbing your chin.

“The manager isn’t a bodyguard.”

“‘Samu and ‘Tsumu have fans. They could die.”

“Hey… I have fans too,” interrupts Aran, but he sounds kind of shy when he says it.

“Also, why are you wearing sunglasses? We’re indoors and the weather is bad. What if something happened to you because you couldn’t see? Or if you ran into somebody else?” Kita asks, disregarding your previous point. His tone has been extremely neutral during this entire exchange. You wonder if there’s something about being unbothered that lands people in the Inarizaki VBC.

“‘Cause bodyguards wear sunglasses.”

“You’re not a bodyguard. Take them off.”

Suna humors you, “I need security.”

“Yer not the one with the bloodthirsty fans, though,” you say.

ACT XXII, REPRISE: YOU’RE COOL

Some little guy with offensively orange hair hits you in what you imagine to be your rock hard abs on accident. The halls are crowded, it’s bound to happen. You turn to examine him, lips set in a thin line, and you realize he’s wearing the uniform of the team your school will be playing today.

This all happens near the bathroom. The toilet is a dangerous place where dangerous people hang around, Hinata thinks, and you look like a character from a yakuza movie.

“I’m sorry-”

“I-” you crane your neck to look at the ceiling but also wishing you hadn’t because the lights are burning your retinas, “-’m Inarizaki’s bodyguard.”

Hinata’s jaw hangs open. Inarizaki High has a bodyguard? And it’s you, the person he just bumped into? Maybe if they get a bodyguard, he’ll stop getting in trouble near the bathroom. He will be asking Shimizu-san about this later.

ACT XXIII, BACKTRACK: ABNORMAL

Even if Atsumu always wins when it counts, at least Osamu knows he’s your favorite twin.

ACT XXIV: THE APOCALYPSE

“‘Tsumu’s throwing a tantrum,” Osamu announces. He’s looking off into the distance and you don’t know what’s so poetic about the supermarket, but you’ll allow it if this is his new way of brooding.

“Isn’t he always?”

“He said I’m abandoning him.”

“Huh,” you say intelligently.

“It’s ‘cause I told him I’ll quit volleyball after high-school, so he’s being all dramatic about it,” he says. “But I dunno… I don’t wanna leave him or anything. Or. Maybe I do. I can’t stand him, but- I don’t really wanna!”

“Yer not abandoning him, you know that.” You pat him on the back. “He just doesn’t wanna be apart from you. Give him some time, it’ll be fine.”

“Ya think so?”

“I mean, yeah.”

Still, Osamu crosses his arms and huffs. “Well, he should knock that shit off. It’s annoying.”

“Aw. You don’t need to hide your sensitive side.”

“I don’t have a sensitive side,” he snaps, leaning away from you once you try to pull on his cheek.

“If you’re not gonna go pro, what are your plans?” you ask, lowering your hand.

He doesn’t yet stop ducking in case you’re trying to lure him into a false sense of security. “I wanna open a restaurant.”

“Yer a lil’ chef, aren’t ya?”

“How do ya make it sound belittling?”

After some contemplation, you say, “I think it’d fit you.”

ACT XXV: LOVE IS ABSTRACT

The heart, Osamu thinks, is an unreasonable organ.

He generally doesn’t consider himself to be a jealous toddler, and he’d say he leans more on the ‘relatively sane’ side of the spectrum. This is beyond stupid, and he can’t believe he’s behaving like Atsumu. But then again, Atsumu wouldn’t understand this, so it’s not like he can tell him about it. He has a volleyball instead of a brain.

Osamu digs into his tuna with uncharacteristic vice and, in a dramatic turn of events, almost tries to choke himself on it. Not because he’s angry or anything, but because he’s being so embarrassing lately he might as well spare himself the misery.

Under the table, Suna nudges your thigh with his like Osamu isn’t right there and can’t see, and your lips quirk up at his anger, and this is exactly the problem. Even his brother has the gall to look amused. At this moment, Osamu feels like he hasn’t laughed a day in his life.

It’s not like he’s that in touch with… it, but:

Love is when Suna is pretending to take videos of the three of you fighting, but really he’s just trying to record you.

Love is when Suna watches one of said videos five times before an important game with a blank expression like some kind of creep.

Love is when you and Suna go out for a smoke on the patio when you’re supposed to be watching a movie with him and ‘Tsumu.

Love is when Suna tries to encourage your nonsensical bullshit.

And, worst of all: love is cooking you lunch every night, love is attending a fucking fish’s funeral during a rainstorm and not regretting it, love is searching up ‘cool rare wrestling facts’ to try to impress someone like some kind of moron.

He’s not really talking about Suna anymore.

In complete honesty, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It just wasn’t. You’re his stupid childhood friend who he used to push on the swings because you thought getting dizzy and throwing up was funny, which is a testament to how much he should not like you. He swore an oath about it and everything.

For fuck’s sake, you used to wear shorts with Spongebob x Patrick yaoi on them. In public. Where people saw him with you.

So, in conclusion, his attempt to asphyxiate himself is entirely justified.

ACT XXVI: WE DON’T NEED THINGS LIKE MEMORIES

“You can’t be serious,” says Suna, looking at you from the corner of his eye before he caves in and shifts his gaze to you altogether.

“About the glasses? Or the balloon?”

“This is probably the first time the glasses have been appropriate,” he tells you. “Considering we’re outside and all.”

There’s a balloon wrapped around your neck by the string. Undoubtedly, you look more idiotic than usual. Atsumu almost seems exiled since he has to stand with his classmates in a different spot. You pretended to reach out for him like he was in jail many times throughout the principal’s speech.

“I think the balloons are for children,” Osamu says.

“What children?” you ask.

“Ya know, the ones seein’ their older relatives graduate?”

“I think forcing kids to attend someone else’s graduation ceremony should be considered child abuse.”

Suna turns around to double over laughing even though it’s not that funny, and Osamu takes a sudden and keen interest in the soles of his own shoes. It’s sunny outside today and he thinks if this oration goes on any longer, his forehead will flare red with a sunburn.

“You hot?” you ask, kicking him lightly to get his attention. “I’ve got just the thing.”

That doesn’t sound good, whatever it may mean. You reach inside your bag and, on second thought, he should’ve known exactly what you had in mind. Before he can curse you out, you’ve Twin Repellent’d all over him and Suna.

The three of you do get let go earlier for ‘ruining the ceremony.’ And he can’t argue that getting drenched cooled him down, so overall, your stupidity comes out at a net positive. An hour and a half later, Atsumu pulls up to where you’re at and complains about you guys ditching him like everything is normal, and Osamu finds that coming to terms with finishing high school is a tad more complicated than he assumed.

ACT XXVII: SUNARIN ISN’T ANYTHING IN PARTICULAR

Two weeks after, some students from your year already try to organize a reunion party, or a post-graduation party, or whatever. To Osamu’s face, you call them ‘SAPPY SENTIMENTAL LAMES’ before immediately replying that you’ll be there.

He’s not much of a party-goer. It’s much more your and Atsumu’s scene and, even then, you’d both rarely attend, but he doesn’t see much harm in going. He picks you up with his brother in tow and you show up together because bad things come in threes.

Suna is somehow already there, which Osamu finds uncharacteristic. A dim room, bad electronic music and people with shitty dance moves greet him when he opens the door to invite himself in, the two of you trailing behind him.

“You guys think I look good?” asks Suna, but Osamu only sighs because he knows the question is just directed at you.

“I’m not gonna front with ya, Suna, I can’t really see ya well at all right now,” you say.

At this, Osamu sighs even harder.

Ready to push him out of the way so he can find something fun to do, Atsumu adds, “And ya still have labia bangs, so.”

It is an incredible feat of self-restraint that Suna doesn’t lunge at him and murder him in cold blood in front of about fifty witnesses for this. To sate his bloodlust before a more secluded area becomes available, he steps on Atsumu’s toe with a surprising amount of force, drawing out an ouch.

Now that your guard is low, Osamu plucks your sunglasses and places them over the top of his head. You whip back around to stare at him in betrayal.

“Yer gonna fall over and die and get trampled on-”

“How optimistic!” you interrupt, shuddering.

“-like this, so just leave ‘em to me. Sharing is caring or whatever they say.” And with that, he pushes you in Suna’s direction before he tries to make his way around the crowd to follow after Atsumu.

You part your lips in slight puzzlement. “Woah, he totally doesn’t want our asses around him.”

Suna shrugs. “His loss. You wanna dance?”

“I dunno. I don’t know how,” you say, which is your usual excuse for when you’re not in the mood to dance. That, and you like seeing people embarrass themselves by convincing you they’ll teach you.

“Neither does anyone else here,” he quips before he imitates the way a guy with his back turned to the two of you is dancing. It seems to involve pretending to be swinging a lasso with one hand and whipping with the other.

You press your palm against your mouth to stifle your laughter. “I can’t believe ya just did that. You only asked so you could make fun of him, didn’t ya?”

“I mean, you already know.”

“Good ol’ Rin,” you say before you find the alcohol terribly unwatched, bringing up a bottle of whiskey to eye-level then resolving to ‘borrow’ it.

“They’ve got ‘em red cups. So cliche.” Even though he’s complaining, he pops open a can of beer and pours some for both of you.

“Good idea, I need a couple a’ drinks before I start strippin’ on tables.”

He takes his first sip. “This is gonna be our last night with most of these people. I mean, shit, they’re cornballs that I hate, but… I dunno, it’s so bizarre.”

“Right, I get ya.” You nod sagely before you collapse on a nearby couch, putting your legs over the table and knocking over something that suspiciously looks like a porcelain vase. Instead of wallowing in guilt over it, you think that it’s a strange placement for a vase. “Couldn’t live without seeing the cowboy dance move.”

“God, that was busted as hell,” he says, and though he sounds indifferent like usual, you can see that deep down he’s rattled by secondhand embarrassment. Then he kicks your legs off of the table to replace them with his, and you start nudging and wrestling each other.

While passing the whiskey bottle back and forth, you talk about endless nonsense. You tell him about some conspiracy theory about McDonald’s putting horse meat in chicken nuggets you read on a forum and he tells you about how he spent half an afternoon watching a spider in his house trap and eat a stink bug, and the conversation doesn’t get any more intellectual from there on.

Apparently the two of you have similar alcohol tolerance because you reach the stage of inebriation where you start making bad decisions at around the same time. Despite how close you already are because of all the pushing and play-fighting, he invades your personal space even further and asks, “You wanna make out?”

“Sure.”

It’s not like either of you is a kissless virgin, so you reason it can’t go that bad.

He slides an arm around your waist and pushes you with your back against the couch, straddling you. Maybe just to flex your MMA prowess, you flip over your positions, and he decides he doesn’t care enough to fight you on it.

Then, tyranny possesses you because you run your hands down his sides and start tickling him.

“The fuck’s with you?” he asks, pushing your hands away between laughter.

“Ya never laugh,” you say. “Just stand there like…” Then you set your eyebrows straight and let your mouth go slack, wiping all emotion from your face.

“Yeah, so stop, shh. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

“I was just curious. Don’t blame me!”

Then, there is a moment of silence when you stare into each other’s eyes.

ACT XVIII: ‘SAMU IS LAME

When Osamu catches a glimpse of you making out with Suna from across the room, he reacts like any reasonable adult would.

With a tap, he lets your sunglasses slide down his forehead and settle over his eyes.

ACT XIX, REPRISE: MISFORTUNE

Suna doesn’t know what the two of you are, which probably means you’re not anything. Which is fine, but may be a bit inconvenient now that the two of you will be living together. You agreed that rooming with a stranger for university would be marginally worse than going with a friend, and here you are.

You’d been on vacation when he first settled inside the apartment, so he arrived two weeks earlier than you, and now he’s stuck helping you carry and unpack your stuff.

He appraises the cardboard cutout that you’re embracing like a lover with a judgemental gaze. “Does Cena-san need to move in with us?”

“He’s my friend,” you justify, turning up your nose.

He still remembers the texture of your lips and the warmth of your skin and the weight of you, so real, with your stomach pressed against his and other similar things that make him feel grossly compromised. The memory is hazy, yes, but to get it off his mind, he says, “That’s a bit sad.”

“He promises he won’t go outside my room.”

“… I fuckin’ hope not.”

ACT XXX: LOVE IS LETTING GO

The heart, Osamu would think, is a dramatic organ.

Which is exactly why this sucks so many balls, if it were up to Suna to word it. It’s not like he signed up to be your fairy godmother or anything, but he needs to tell you.

The kiss was a mistake, but in his defense, he was as piss drunk as you were. He knows you and Osamu are in love with each other. It’s not a grand, disgusting kind of love, but it’s big enough for him to see it.

And Suna is mischievous sometimes, but he’s not malicious. He wanted to be selfish for the night — kiss you once, get you out of his system, and here’s how well that went. So he’ll fix it.

You’re smoking with him outside and it’s cold, the sky is gray, obscured by clouds. He says, “You know, I think you should tell him.”

You flutter your stupid eyelashes and look at him in genuine confusion. “Hm?”

Suna remembers the pain scales with ugly emoticon drawings they hang up at hospitals, and he thinks he’s currently at an ‘inflamed internal bleeding slight wince’ 7. “Osamu. Tell him.”

“Tell him what? He doesn’t need to know I messed up the laundry.”

“No. Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“This is gross.” Suna furrows his eyebrows and fakes gagging in an unusual show of emotions. “Tell Osamu you’re in love with him.”

“Why?”

What kind of question is that? Are you not even going to deny it?

“He’s been avoiding us and making inbred dog faces ever since he saw us kiss at the party. You do the math.” Suna takes another drag, then exhales. “C’mon, I miss my best friend. And Atsumu, I guess.”

“I’m ‘Samu’s best friend,” you say on reflex, glaring at him before you punch him in the shoulder. “How many times do we need to have this conversation?”

“Not for long.”

You stare, and to your horror Suna stares back, and then you redirect your gaze to the ground with a distasteful purse of your mouth. “If I get rejected, yer gonna wash the dishes for a month.”

He snorts like your suggestion is any way comical. “Blow me. I won’t.”

ACT XXXI: LOVE IS

“I like goin’ out with you an’ all, but we’ve been sitting in silence for thirty minutes,” Osamu says. It’s a nice restaurant with comfortable seats and an expensive menu, but. What. Not to mention, all you did was send him the location and write ‘code red,’ making him believe this was in any way urgent.

You fondle with your free glass of water in a way that’s not at all awkward or unnatural. “Lots a’ weather we’ve been having lately.”

“Sure,” he says after some deliberation over your statement. Better not question it, he figures.

You twist your face and it looks like you’re about to shit yourself for a moment. “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

In this exact moment, you think you see Osamu malfunction. First it starts with heresy: he drops his chopsticks mid-air and they clatter on the table, letting the sushi roll slip. Then he unhinges his jaw and gapes at you with a vague sense of something you can’t quite decipher. It’s not like you didn’t try to be casual, so what’s with the overreaction?

“Don’t say shit like that outta nowhere! Ya almost sent me into cardiac arrest,” he says, reaching over to flick you on the forehead.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” you say, rubbing the spot.

“Do ya…? For how long?”

You frown because why does it matter right now? “I don’t know.”

“Outside,” he says in a panic. “Let’s go out. For a bit.”

“Ya wanna fight?”

“No? What’s wrong with you?”

“I dunno,” you say. “There is a dingy alleyway in the back.”

The dingy alleyway, Osamu thinks as he examines it, would be convenient if he were to rob someone. But he doesn’t want to do that, and he thinks you must be rubbing off on him for that to even cross his mind. It’s also hardly a romantic setting, but whatever. You wanted to be a mafioso, so it could be perfect for all he knows.

“I, umm,” he starts and the words don’t make it past his thoughts, at least not the ones he wants to say, but he can show you if you let him. “Can I…?”

“Sure,” you say. It occurs to you that it is incredibly concerning that this is the blase response you give every time someone wants to exchange germs with you.

When Osamu leans down to kiss you, it’s not special because it feels any different. Lips, you think, are skin flaps, and there’s nothing remarkable about any of them. But it’s special because you can sense emotion behind it for the first time — the tenderness, the longing, the surrender, anything else he can’t say. Because it’s Osamu.

And when you pull away, your hold is still firm around his waist and he doesn’t let go of your face yet. You ask, “So does that mean…?”

“Uh, shit. I mean, yeah. Obviously,” and he sweeps in for another kiss.

So maybe you did think shins means crotch, and maybe Osamu did pretend to have his arm over your shoulder in his head that one time, and maybe you are still crazy about each other in the most self-contained way possible.

ACT XXXII: FORTUNE

For Osamu, it starts in the womb because Atsumu is his brother.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagine #one shot

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yeowangies · 2 years

Text

dangerous - chapter II

❧

Chapter I I Chapter II: Greedy

PAIRING: Vegeta/Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Rough sex, Dom/Sub undernotes, unprotected sex WARNINGS: - WORDCOUNT: 7393

Summary: An AU in which Earth was destroyed, and you are one of the few humans left alive. The plot is meaningless once the smut comes up.

Notes: Enjoy the smut 😏

Vegeta was the Prince of all Saiyans. And he had kissed you, an Earthling.

When he ran his nose up your neck while you were pressed against the wall, your scent invaded his nostrils, and a rush of warmth raced through his crotch. Not only your species were compatible, but he could also smell your arousal.

And when he looked at you, seeing only desire in your eyes, Vegeta didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know how to think.

No amount of alcohol he could have consumed would inebriate him enough to make him forget how you smelled. Which in that moment Vegeta thought was unfortunate, because he also remembered every part of your body he touched in vivid details. The taste of your lips, the curve of your waist, even how soft your hair was when he pulled you in.

What had brought him back from the momentary lapse of his composure, almost like a kick in the gut, was you moaning his name. It reminded him that he was actually almost grinding against you in a public space; yet at the same time, the tone in your voice had sent a rush of pleasure up his spine.

He didn’t want to fuck you, he thought.

Obviously a lie.

When Vegeta retired (or basically ran) to his chambers, feeling ashamed for fleeing, he had to remind himself he didn’t fuck people working in the Frieza army. It was dangerous, he knew that. He didn’t know you, he didn’t know your intentions. Not to mention that attitude of yours, how vulgar and indecent you were, horrified him to no end. He was struggling to adjust his desires, his own instincts, with the supposed self control he had practiced his whole life.

It didn’t help the way you presented yourself. Every time Vegeta had encountered you, either by casualty or choice, you paraded around in such a way, as if fully aware of the effect you had on him. It was maddening, more so after witnessing how Nappa and Raditz acted around you. There was no way you didn’t know what you were doing. He had to tell himself he wouldn’t have cared if you were to fuck Nappa, Raditz or the squid tending the bar, but the image alone made something ugly bubble inside him.

Clenching his fists, trying very hard not to punch the wall (the spaceship was hard as steel, but he knew it probably wouldn’t stand a punch as strong as the one he intended to land), Vegeta groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with himself. He felt tainted, and he didn’t know if he could shake off a feeling like that easily.

When he took a shower moments later, thinking that maybe he would get rid of your scent that way, Vegeta couldn’t help but relieve himself. Had he continued following his desire, you would have been writhing underneath him by then. Not only that, he would have bent you over, making you beg. He would have prolonged your release until you were in tears. He wanted you to feel rejected before giving you what you wanted.

When he let go, with the image of you moaning his name loudly and your legs wrapped around him, he felt even more abashed, his hand covered in his own cum, and with your scent still lingering in his system.

Cursing under his breath, Vegeta recalled what you asked him.

'Why haven’t you then?' You said, when he told you he could kill you.

Well, he knew why.

He wanted you. He knew he wanted you.

It’s been a while since you felt humiliated by a man like that, but you figured alien men weren’t any different. Not only humiliated; you were left hanging, and pissed off.

You almost hated him for being so hot. Even through all the layers of clothes and armors between you, you could feel how muscular he was underneath it all when you kissed, if the way his suit clinged to his arms were any indication. You would bet big money on the fact that he must be incredibly ripped. But the thought alone only added to your sexual frustration.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want you. At least you were sure of that when you felt his erection through his clothes, pressed against your hip. Something else was holding him back. Since Raditz and Nappa had basically offered themselves to you when you met them, but not Vegeta, you figured it had something to do with the fact that he was royalty. His entire demeanor was probably based on that fact.

You were curious, but you weren’t going to beg for his attention, especially after what happened that night. It already felt like you were begging before you kissed. If he truly wanted you, he would find you. After all, you were stuck in that ship for another week or so.

You were sitting in the control room two days later, monitoring the radio once again, slightly bored after the first two hours. It was possibly the only boring job they had, and it obviously landed on you since you didn’t have ‘any power’. The radio mostly got back and forth messages of coordinates of certain planets, where the fleet was, what the next destination was. Boring. But you weren’t going to complain.

You were playing with your armor, stretching it and letting it go to adjust to your body, when you felt the entire ship shaking.

The alarm didn’t go off, and you sat in your seat for a minute, waiting to see if you got a signal that the ship should be evacuated. But nothing happened. Sighing loudly, you relaxed back in your seat. Whether it was a big deal or not, someone will probably come find you, since you were the only mechanic on the ship.

As if on cue, a frog looking creature bursted in.

“The training room.” He panted, signaling for you to get up.

“What happened?”

“No idea,” He replied, aloof. “Go fix it right now.”

You sighed, again, leaving the room to find your tools before heading towards the training room.

“Fuck you, Raditz, why did you dodge it?” You heard Nappa’s gruff voice coming from inside the room, right before you walked in.

When you entered the training room, not only did you find a giant hole in the control panel, but you also encountered Raditz, Nappa and Vegeta.

“He almost killed me, you fucking idiot! I wouldn’t have been able to stop it!” Raditz spat back at Nappa.

They turned to you once the door closed again after you walked in, and you cursed mentally. The three of them were shirtless. You eyed them quickly, but your gaze settled on Vegeta’s naked torso for a little longer than you intended. You gulped, averting your eyes. Crap, he really was ripped.

“Should have known it was you three wrecking havoc.” You said after a beat, offering them a half smile, making your way to look at the control panel.

They seemed too tired and hurt to attempt to flirt with you like they usually did, at least Nappa and Raditz did. The latter even had blood running down his mouth, and bruises all over his chest. But Vegeta seemed more pissed than usual, if anything else.

You could feel their eyes on you, even as they continued bickering, while you inspected the damage. Scratching your head, you wondered if you could actually fix this. Some connections were burned, a bunch of buttons from the panel had most likely evaporated or something, not to mention the melted plastic holding the structure together. Who were you kidding? There was too much damage to even attempt to repair it. There were some cables you could replace, but it probably wouldn’t even work.

“So, which one of you did this?” You asked, turning to face them.

“Are you that weak that you can’t even stop an attack?” Nappa spat at Raditz, ignoring you completely.

“I would have lost an arm or worse, dickhead!” There was a vein pulsing in Raditz's forehead.

“Hey!” You yelled, trying to get their attention.

“That’s exactly why we train! To get stronger, idiot!”

“Can you imbeciles shut up already?!” Vegeta’s voice resonated through the room.

“I don’t even know why you are basically trying to wear us out!” Raditz growled in Vegeta’s direction. “We’ve been training twice the normal amount of time!”

Growing angrier with each passing moment, you were going to regret what you were about to do next. But they didn’t pay you enough to be dealing with three manchildren.

Creating a ball of energy in your palm in a second, you threw it in between them, passing right by Nappa’s chest, hitting the wall and exploding, making the room shake.

The three men had stopped talking and had their eyes fixed on the wall your attack hit, before turning to look at you, with their eyes like plates.

“Hey, ladies,” You said, loud enough so they wouldn’t get distracted anymore. “Who did this?”

Raditz and Nappa exchanged glances before setting their eyes on Vegeta.

“When is it going to be operable again?” Vegeta asked, though it sounded like an order.

“Imma be honest, I don’t think I can fix this.” You replied, threading some of the cables hanging loose with your fingers.

“What?!” Vegeta yelled, walking towards you. “Are you that stupid that you can’t fix it?”

“More like you made it impossible for me to repair it.” You spat back, standing upright and glaring at him. “You might as well have burned the whole thing!”

“Woman, you have one job-”

“Yes! When something’s broken. But this is not broken and you know it.”

Both of your eyes were fixed on each other’s, and for a second you thought he might even attack you. Sighing loudly, you ran your fingers through your hair nervously before speaking.

“Did your attack hit it directly? Did the panel catch on fire? Or did it explode at once?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because maybe I can make it work again, dick.”

Vegeta glowered at you, but Raditz was the one who replied to your initial question.

“It just exploded,” He eyed you up and down with a questioning look. “There was a lot of smoke, but no fire.”

You nodded at him, before turning once again to lean over the panel. You knew you wouldn’t be able to repair it, even if you asked those questions. The plastic of the panel had melted way too much, coating some of the wires. If you had to guess, they would probably need to replace it whole once you reach the base.

“I can’t fix this.”

“What? Woman-”

“You destroyed it. You can still use the room, but the control panel will have to be replaced.”

“How useless can you be?” This time it was Nappa who insulted you.

“Hey, I’m just here to repair shit.” You stood straight, glaring at him. Your body was half the size of his, but you were starting to really hate being called names. “I can’t devise an entire new panel, I’m not trained for that.”

“Clearly.” Vegeta scoffed.

“Look, no matter how much you wanna hate me, I can’t fix this. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

Nappa and Vegeta were looking daggers at you, but neither made a move that might seem threatening, which you took as a good sign.

“Like I said, you can still use the room. You won’t be able to turn on the gravity though.”

You grabbed your tools, ready to head out since there was nothing else for you to do there.

“Maybe you should take it down a notch,” You glanced at them quickly. “You look like you need it.”

“Stop being so insolent, girl!” Nappa snapped, slanting forward.

“Stop destroying stuff, then!” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try finding another mechanic in this fucking ship. That’s right, I’m the only one.”

He was growling, face twisted with anger, a vein protruding on his temple.

Vegeta put his hand on Nappa’s forearm, signaling him to calm down.

“Get the fuck out.”

Surprisingly, Vegeta’s voice wasn’t nearly as cold as you would have expected. You looked at him for a minute, trying very hard to avoid looking at his abs, before you spoke.

“Try to be careful, okay?” You said, before nodding towards Raditz and Nappa on your way out. “And go to the medbay, you two.”

You waved them goodbye as you exit the room.

After walking a few feets, you heard them yelling at each other once again, though you were too far to really make out any words.

Avoiding the bar for the night, just in case Vegeta might be there to insult you for not repairing the training room, you sat by the chair by the window of your room. You missed your friends a lot. Bulma was the one who taught you the basic knowledge about mechanics, you would have already been rendered useless in there if it wasn’t for her. You knew well she was safe somewhere far away from there, at least.

It was nonetheless making you sad. You were lonely and you knew it. After you began working under Frieza, you tried approaching people there as ‘friends’. But most soldiers weren’t even friends with each other. Allies, sure. But not friends. Even if you took into consideration the Saiyans you met a few days ago, they didn’t strike you as friends. You wondered if they had the ability to have those kinds of relationships.

But then again, no one seemed to actually let their guard down at that job. Which you understood, there was a reason you hid your ki all the time. People died and got killed for no reason other than simply walking wrong.

You weren’t really annoyed at Vegeta anymore when you came to that conclusion. In his head he probably had a slip that might cost him his life, even when he probably knew you were no match for him when it came to power and abilities. But he didn’t know why you did what you did.

Sighing loudly, your mind trailed to the kiss you had the other night while you got ready to take a shower. It certainly ignited something in you that you almost forgot you had. The loneliness was doing a job on you, you were certain, but when Vegeta had you pressed against that wall with his lips on yours, not only did it alleviate that feeling, but it sparked something else. Blushing like a high school girl when you felt a faint tingling in your belly, you tied your hair in a bun before stepping into the shower.

As you were laid lazily in your bed afterwards, playing with your scouter, checking your arrival time a few days away before sleeping, you felt a very particular ki outside your door, before you heard a knocking. Or more like a rough pounding.

You actually recognized that ki in less than a second.

“Vegeta…?” You whispered when you opened the door.

There he was, standing right outside your bedroom, wearing his suit and armor. His eyes were darker than you remembered, and while he still had a scowl on his face, it caught your attention that his brows weren’t as furrowed. You eyed him curiously. His entire body seemed tense, more than normal, and his chest was heaving.

There was just one reason Vegeta could be there when it was supposed to be ‘nighttime’ on the ship.

You stepped aside to let him in, and he closed the door behind him.

“I could kill you.”

His voice was grounded as Vegeta repeated the words he had already said some time before. It wasn’t a threat, but it sounded more like a warning. He fixed his eyes on yours, and when you looked back at him you realized what he meant. You gulped, though not out of fear.

‘I could kill you’ he said; what he intended to say was ‘I might not be able to hold back’.

“I’m not scared.” You said, even though your voice came out like a squeak.

“Then you are an idiot.” Vegeta replied with a smirk, clearly amused.

“Well I have been flirting with you.” You took a couple of steps back towards the bed. “Maybe I like a little danger.”

“You are crazier than I initially thought.”

“I guess that’s a good thing since you are here.”

His grin dissipated as he narrowed his eyes at you.

Vegeta was gauging your demeanor, and you started to feel like you did when he had you pushed against the wall the other night: small. Maybe even weak. The fact that he was obviously more powerful than you didn’t make you feel any less, but under his gaze, you felt fragile. Which made blood rush to your cheeks, and in between your thighs.

He took a step closer towards you, and you noticed his eyes grow even darker than before, if that was even possible.

“Are you still willing?” Vegeta asked, voice low and hoarse.

You heard your own heart pound loudly inside your chest.

“Yes.” You replied quietly.

Your breath was caught in your throat in a second as you were thrown on the bed unceremoniously, Vegeta’s body hovering over yours as he removed the gloves from his hands. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, and you found only hunger in his gaze as he spread your legs so he could settle in between them. He was so close you even noticed his entire body was trembling, however slightly, and he was breathing more unsteady than when he walked in.

Leaning down towards your face, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he buried his face in your neck instead, and you shivered when you felt his lips make contact with the skin under your ear. He nuzzled and mouthed there, so gently, you might have even thought that was an affectionate gesture, had it not been for the fact that it was Vegeta doing it. He pulled away then, sitting back, and you yelped, surprised when he suddenly ripped off your shorts and underwear in one swift move. You didn’t have a chance to complain or say anything, only gasping when he suddenly spread your legs, obscenely wide.

Feeling exposed, you held your breath, closing your eyes when you felt your cheeks blush. You thought he might touch you, tease you even, but nothing happened. The only thing you felt was his gaze fixed on your privates for what felt like an eternity. The fact that he was staring at you but not doing anything else made you worry. Maybe he was expecting something else, maybe female Saiyans were different down there. Those were possibilities you hadn’t considered.

You dared to open your eyes to look at him, and you were stunned to see such a feral expression on his face. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated. He was still panting hard, and he was flushing profoundly. It was insane you found him so attractive at that moment. The position you were in added to your arousal, and you felt a warm knot pooling in your abdomen. You wondered if he could tell; you were obviously wet but was it obvious?

When Vegeta suddenly bent down, you yelped, gasping a second later when he pressed his nose just a little above your entrance. He breathed in your scent deeply, and you looked at him in horror before covering your face, unable to utter a word.

“After all that act the last few days,” Clearly entertained by your reaction, Vegeta chuckled against your skin, making you quiver. “I find it hard to believe you are this flustered.”

“I- I wasn’t expecting you to smell me!” You mumbled, still not looking at him.

Sneaking one of his hands closer to your core, you felt his thumb run slowly over your folds before you could say anything else, and a whine died in your throat. When he finally touched your clit, you moaned. That seemed to catch his attention, looking up at you from in between your legs as he ran his thumb again over the same spot. Your legs twitched involuntarily when Vegeta pressed his finger over your clit experimentally, and you glanced at him then, meeting his eyes. He still had that awfully cocky smile on his face, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and you whimpered.

Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, Vegeta eased one finger inside, making you gasp. He curled it inside you before pulling it out slowly and slipping it back in. You moaned at every deliberate move, unable to look away from his eyes. He seemed to be analyzing your every reaction, or at least that’s what you thought, and you couldn’t believe such a stern man would do what he was currently doing to you. You must have read him wrong before; by his attitude you would have guessed he was going to take you at once, and leave almost immediately. But so far, you were pleasantly surprised.

When he swiftly darted his tongue to lick at your clit, you whimpered, your legs jolting and almost closing if it wasn’t for his firm hand on one of your thighs. Vegeta growled against you as a response, and he repeated the same action, this time tracing his tongue over your folds with one move, his finger still deep inside you. You dragged out a long moan, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. He started moving in sync, lapping at your clit and pumping his finger in an agonizingly slow pace. You couldn’t help the sounds spilling from your lips, and by the way he was grunting, neither did he. It didn’t take long until he added a second finger, stretching you more, and you felt that knot in your belly tighten as you mewled in pleasure.

It was like your entire body was on fire, and you couldn’t believe he hadn’t even penetrated you yet. Your body reacted as if it had never been touched before, and while you knew it probably had something to do with all the time it’s been since you’ve been intimate with someone, Vegeta’s actions were probably the biggest contributing factor. His treatment of you was amazingly gentle, but deliberate in its purpose, trying to gradually bring you closer to your climax.

Picking up the rhythm, Vegeta curled his fingers inside you as he continued to lap at your clit, flattening his tongue firmly with every move. You were close, your legs were jolting more intensely, and your mind started to feel like jelly.

“Ve-Vegeta, I’m…” You stuttered a few garbled words, trying to warn him, but you made no sense.

He didn’t stop, keeping up the same pace, until you saw stars. Arching your back, you cried out, feeling your orgasm wash out over your body, as you clenched around his fingers. Vegeta didn’t relent as you tried to move your hips against him, his tongue still on your clit, stroking you, until your high subsided.

You wailed then, reaching for his hand on your thigh to signal him to stop, feeling a little overstimulated.

“Shit, you taste as good as you smell.” You heard him grunt against the skin of your thigh, as he pulled away, feeling suddenly empty when his fingers left your body.

Through hooded eyes, you watched him as he stood up. Somehow, Vegeta looked even more attractive; his mouth and chin were glistening, and when he placed his fingers that had just been inside you to his lips, popping them into his mouth and sucking on them one at a time, you immediately felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen once again.

Vegeta removed his clothes with ease and patience, never breaking eye contact with you. Still trying to catch your breath, you watched him carefully after he had removed his armor as he pushed his shirt up and off him. When you were in the training room earlier that day, you had tried very hard not to even look at him for longer than a second, but you felt like you were more than allowed now. And you couldn’t believe how well built he was, obviously a look he achieved after years of hard training. What caught your eye the most was the amount of scars adorning his torso and arms. His tail moved around and rested behind him when he removed his pants and underwear, your eyes and attention darted towards his thick cock, already standing at attention, and you couldn’t help swallowing loudly.

“You are unusually quiet,” Vegeta interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up at him immediately. He had his signature smirk on his lips, and you felt your cheeks flushed, you did stare too much and felt slightly embarrassed. “Where’s that tongue of yours now?”

“Do you want me to talk?” You managed to ask with a half smile, scooting a little backwards on the bed so he could fit better, and removing your shirt, thinking that you didn’t want him to rip that one off too.

“No,” He snorted, slowly crawling over your body and settling in between your legs. “But you seemed frightened for a moment.”

“Frightened? Why do you think that?”

“Your heartbeat,” Vegeta answered, one hand resting on your hip, the other one trailing up your side, tracing the outline of your breasts and stopping in your sternum. “It’s going abnormally fast.”

“That’s not because I’m afraid.” You chuckled, putting your hands on his biceps, and stroking him gently.

“Then what other reason is there?” He asked, raising one eyebrow, genuinely confused.

You knew you caught him off guard as he made a surprised noise when you leaned up to kiss him swiftly.

“It’s because I think you’re hot, and you know… what you just did.”

“You are a strange woman.”

His lips were on yours before you could add anything else. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours, as the hand on your chest reached your neck. He kept it there, putting minimum pressure, as he devoured your lips. You hummed, finding the gesture surprisingly alluring.

Moving your hands up his shoulders and then down his chest, you slowly explored everywhere your hands could reach. His skin was hot under your fingertips, inhumanely hot, and almost every inch you touched was hard. The muscles in his abdomen tensed when you reached them, and you settled one hand on his waist, your other inching closer towards his erection. Vegeta growled against your lips then, the hand resting on your hip quickly grabbing yours to stop you. Not breaking the kiss, he pushed your hand above your head and against the mattress, squeezing your wrist before letting it go. You understood that as a sign that he did not want to be touched too much.

You didn’t linger on the thought when you felt his hand in between your legs again, fingers stroking your folds as you groaned by the sudden pleasing feeling. Breaking the kiss then, Vegeta pulled away to gaze at your face, as he guided his dick to your entrance, the head nudging where his fingers had been before.

Breathing in, you lolled your head back when he pushed in, and he was half way in when you realized it was going to be a tighter fit than you expected. Moving in deeply until he was all the way in, you held onto his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you closed your eyes tightly. You let out puffs of air as you got used to the stretch, and you felt a flutter of affection for him as he stayed still, waiting for you to get used to him as he softly mouthed at your jaw.

You had never felt this full, painfully so, but you still wanted more. There was a fine line between that agonizing stretch and pure delight and that was it, and you couldn’t wait to cross it until your body was submersed in pleasure. When Vegeta started licking at your earlobe, whispering words like ‘wet’ and ‘tight’, you felt yourself relax around him, as you let go of his arms to wrap yours around his shoulders.

You moved your hips ever so slightly, letting him know that you were more than ready, and Vegeta grunted in your ear. Pulling back to look at your face again, he rolled his hips then and you mewled as a response, and he smirked at your reaction. He still had his hand over your neck, but he soon dragged it upwards so it was grabbing your jaw. It wasn’t a tight grip, just enough to keep your head in place. He grabbed your thigh with his other hand, pushing it against the bed, and when he pulled all the way out, you knew you were done for.

When he thrust back in with more force this time, you moaned loudly, closing your eyes tightly.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Vegeta’s voice was low and demanding when he spoke against your lips, not really kissing you but almost.

You did as you were told, gazing at him through hooded lids. The look on his eyes was even wilder and simply hungrier than when he walked into the room, and you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out of your lips at the sight. He chose that moment to pull back steadily before pushing all the way in at once, and you felt him deep inside you as you whined.

“Where’s that bravado of yours now, woman?” Vegeta grinned almost triumphantly, as another noise slid from your lips when he moved in against you with measured force. “Are you sure you can take me?”

It took you a while to register his words in your brain, it was hard to do so when he kept thrusting into you at the pace he had chosen.

“I am, aren’t I?” You smiled faintly, gasping when his hips kept moving against yours.

Vegeta made a noise between a snort and a groan, but his rhythm was unfazed.

Feeling his cock inside you, so warm and filling you up, was doing something to your mind, besides making that burning sensation in your belly grow. And the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to swallow you whole only added to your delight.

His pace soon wasn’t enough, you wanted to feel more of him, to somehow get more of him in.

“Harder.” You pleaded, your voice coming out like a squeak.

Vegeta stared at you almost curiously, still moving his hips without relenting.

“You said you liked danger.” He grinned smugly when you moaned as he hit inside just where you liked it. “But that is almost a death wish.”

“I’m not that- ah, that weak,” You said breathily; though looking for the right words to say was difficult at that moment. But you still wanted to challenge him, it had worked for you so far. “I- I can take you going ‘a little harder’...”

Vegeta grunted, but complied.

The wind was knocked out of you. The way he slammed his hips into yours took you off guard, and you practically screamed, your entire body shivering with intensity. He laughed before pressing his lips to you, swallowing every sound you were making as he started to thrust into you at an almost violent pace.

“Is this what you wanted?” Vegeta teased, licking at the roof of your mouth.

You closed your eyes when he started hitting that sensitive spot inside you, but his hand on your jaw tightened when you did. Turned out, keeping them open was proving to be a challenge when he was basically fucking your brains out, but you still did, opening them just enough to gaze at him. Vegeta kept kissing you, accepting every moan and whimper that escaped your lips, even though you weren’t kissing him back, unable to do anything but take what he was giving you.

His hand on your jaw let go of you, to your surprise, trailing down to stroke one of your breasts. You were starting to dig your nails onto his shoulders as he kept his relentless speed, and when he brushed his fingers over your nipples, you arched your back into his touch. He eyed you, almost intrigued, before pulling away from your lips to lean down and sink his teeth into the flesh of your breast. You shuddered at the sensation, almost sobbing when he sucked on that same spot just as his cock hit inside you deliciously hard. You weren’t going to last long, but you wanted to savor every second of having Vegeta on top of you, fucking you so thoroughly like he was basically born for it.

You felt something soft sliding over your thigh, not really shocked to see his tail wrapped around your leg, but at the strength it had as it kept it pressed against the bed. Hooking your other leg over his elbow, Vegeta shifted, changing the angle slightly as he started to ram into you almost brutally. You choked out a moan, feeling like you couldn’t even breathe at the sensation of having him even deeper than you’d imagined.

The bed was creaking loudly every time Vegeta moved against you. Briefly you wondered how soundproof the walls of the ship were, but you disregarded the thought immediately. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed in with your moans and his grunts filled the room, and it added to your impending climax. And by the way he was panting above you, breathing so heavily against the skin of your neck, you knew he was close to letting go as well.

The pressure was there in between your legs, almost to the point of bursting, and you couldn’t help but beg.

“Oh, fuck, please- please, Vegeta-” You choked out, pleading him as you ran your nails down his back.

Vegeta growled, pulling back to seek your eyes.

“You really are a lewd woman,” He smirked like had been doing almost all night, panting heavily, only inches from your face.

The hand caressing your chest slipped between your bodies, reaching your clit, and he pressed his thumb against it, drawing circles that sent chills up your spine.

It was too much, and after a couple of flicks from his finger over your clit, you were tipped over the edge. Your body trembled, like electricity was passing through your veins, making your toes curl. You stuttered a moan, jaw going slack, as you saw white behind your eyelids.

Even through the haze of your orgasm, you felt Vegeta falter, his thrusts becoming more irregular right when you came, as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” He breathed against your jaw, voice desperate.

You felt his cock inside you as you pulsed around him, his grip on your leg tightening so hard you knew there’d be bruises. Vegeta’s moves were turning erratic, prolonging the state of bliss you were in. Trying to spur him on, you tangled your fingers into his hair and tugged. The way he groaned signaled that what you did actually affected him.

With a particularly rough thrust, Vegeta came inside you. You felt his cock throb as he filled you up, his hips jerking forward to ride out his climax making you vibrate with aftershocks. The hold he had of you got tighter, keeping you in place until his moves subsided.

Once Vegeta stilled, he was gasping for air with his face buried in your neck, as his hands let go of you to support himself and not crush you underneath him. He was still undeniably close, his chest touching yours, but you still noticed the gesture, mentally thanking him. Your fingers disentangled from his hair, running soothingly down his back as you hummed, contently basking in the afterglow.

When Vegeta pulled away, you wince at the sudden loss of body warmth, particularly between your thighs. You still felt his tail wrapped around your thigh as he rolled over, though not as tightly as earlier. You wondered if that was a sign of gratitude, respect, or even affection, maybe even meant for another saiyan, obviously one with a tail.

While steading your breathing, and still feeling rather tingly from the effects of your orgasm, your mind dwelled on what just happened. You might remembered your life back on Earth as if it had happened centuries ago, but that was no doubt the best sex you ever had. And what was insane was the fact that it had been with an alien. No human male had handled you the way Vegeta did, and you didn’t entirely know how you should feel about that. But it surely felt like destiny was somehow spitting in your face; for all you knew, this man was a mass murderer, but he had touched you almost gently, until you begged him to break you.

‘It’s not fair,’ You thought, pursing your lips unconsciously.

“What isn’t? What are you blabbering about, woman?” Vegeta asked, groggily, and you stilled.

Did you actually say that out loud?

Sighing loudly, you ran your hand through your hair, trying not to look his way.

“It’s unfair you were actually so good…”

He snorted like he usually did, but it didn’t sound as… disdainful as other times. You dared to turn your gaze to him, and you were surprised by how calm he looked, the usual scowl on his face smoothed out.

“I should be offended that you ever thought less of me.” He looked at you from the corner of his eyes before closing them.

“Well I… It’s not like I thought you were gonna suck or anything. But I thought you were more of a ‘take it and leave’ kinda guy.”

“And yet you still offered yourself to me on a silver plate.” Vegeta turned to you this time, smiling faintly.

“I didn’t consider anyone else, actually.” You said, and he raised his eyebrow, skeptical. “Yes, not even Raditz or Nappa.”

He winced at the mention of their names, but didn’t relent.

“Even when they were basically begging you to give them the time of day.”

“I didn’t like that. They were too gross about it.” You paused, rolling onto your side to face him before speaking again. “Besides, Nappa reminds me way too much of my dad.”

Vegeta laughed, genuinely amused, even making you chuckle. You felt the need to get closer to him to cuddle, but you didn’t know how he would react or if it was really something his species did after sex, so you didn’t. You eyed his tail still tangled around your thigh, thinking that was all you were going to get.

It startled you when his hand suddenly slid down your stomach and lower, and in the blink of an eye Vegeta was on top of you once more, pressing you to the mattress. His eyes seemed to have never lost their hunger, and you gasped when his fingers stroked your entrance.

“You said you weren’t that weak,” He grinned mischievously, obviously teasing you when you moaned, still sensitive from your previous release. “So unless this is too much danger for you, I’m not nearly done, woman.”

You pulled him in for a kiss as a response, not wanting to wait another minute of having him ravage you, the anticipation reviving that burning sensation in your belly.

Vegeta took his time biting and licking at your breasts, leaving them with more marks than you could count. He lost himself inside you afterwards, folding your legs over your body as he thrust into you, turning you into a moaning mess. You came harder than the last two times, body still sensitive, as every rough move from his hips against yours felt like your nerves were ablazed. And when he came inside you, face contorted in pure lust, and his body stammered, spilling his cum inside you, you couldn’t help but think that that wasn’t the same person he was when he wasn’t fucking you. Vegeta teased you through soft touches before bruising you and leaving you breathless but without a hostile aura around him. It was a sight to see.

When he was done, after both of you caught your breaths again and you almost started to doze off, you saw him get up and get dressed through the corner of your eye.

“I had fun,” You smiled wearily at him as he walked to the door.

He turned his head to look at you briefly, before grunting in response. He was gone after that.

Vegeta had been surprised you actually had some resemblance of power. Pleasantly surprised actually, although he would never admit it. It made you even more enticing than before. He could still destroy you in the blink of an eye if he so pleased, but at least you had guts, and he knew you’d stand up to him if he ever tried to harm you.

He wouldn’t dare to harm you anyway. Not after that night.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have guessed the full moon was affecting him. But there was no full moon. He wasn’t even stationed on a planet; he was on a spaceship, going god knows where.

When you opened your bedroom door, your scent invaded his entire system, and for a second he thought it was a bad idea he had come to your room instead of somehow talking you into going to his. But that was the worst option; you would have impregnated his bed, his sheets, everywhere, with your aroma, and he would have gone insane.

Now he knew, neither option freed him from you. While your fragrance still persisted in his mind, there were other additionals he couldn’t get rid of. For instance, how you have felt around him, clenching around him, warm, soft and tight, as your body shivered. How you had kissed him, as if that had been something you two had done forever, as if you hadn't met less than a week ago. Above all else, he couldn’t get your voice out of his head.

It had been months, maybe even a year since he had a physical release, but even so, he didn’t remember it being like that. He didn’t remember��any fuck being like that. It was an unexpected (whether good or bad) bonus: the fact that you knew his name and you had moaned it so eagerly, so unashamed. The way you had implored him to give you what you wanted, to touch you how you so desired. Every noise that spilled from your lips that night had spurred him on and lure him in on a path that he didn’t know how to escape.

Vegeta cursed himself loudly as he stepped into the shower, trying to somehow get rid of you. But the fact was that he wouldn’t be able to, because now that he had tasted you, he wanted more. More of your touches, more of your pleading voice, more of that tight wet warmth. He was an idiot for thinking that just having you once (or twice if he was fair) would be enough. Would there be a limit to how much he could take from you, until you deny him? He was pretty rough, violent even, but you even seemed to like that.

He begrudgingly remembered that the training room was broken, meaning he wouldn’t be able to express his frustration any other way. At least not how he would like because, like you had pointed out, the training room worked, just not the gravity control. It was almost pointless to train like that, it might even be a regression for him, no matter if he were to train with the two other Saiyans.

Groaning loudly, once again fighting the urge to punch the wall of his chambers, Vegeta laid in bed, reliving the moments he had with you in your bed, despite his better judgment, until he fell asleep.

#dbz imagine #dbz fanfiction #dbz fics #vegeta x reader #vegeta #dbz #my writing #smut

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