#'i am not the best with words' proceeds to pour his heart out in the rain

[sukunasun]

WHERE OUR PIECES FALL IN PLACE | NANAMI KENTO X CHUBBY READER

instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he'll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.

a sequel to 'SAY IT'S HERE'

sometime in the middle of the twin's birthday party, when the candles are blown out and yuuji's tiger face paint starts to crack around the corners of his smile, geto hands nanami two slices of cake. nice thick wedges of strawberry and chocolate, alternating pink and brown towered high with rainbow sprinkles on top.

it isn't a surprise the twins couldn't decide on a cake flavour so geto layered them both, however, what does surprise nanami is that he hands it to him on a plate with ice cream on the side as well. he pokes his spoon into the melting scoop of vanilla and wonders how people have the appetite for something this insanely sweet. then looks up to see gojo gobbling down his fifth serving of cake, exerting himself in getting that last piece of boba at the very bottom of his milk tea, plastic cup contracting with these resounding pops they both ignore. not to mention that he's already gone through two pints of rocky road.

geto's face is stoic but reluctantly so, a crease forming between furrowed brows, "thanks for coming, and thank you for the gifts, the girls love them," is all he says, voice even. despite his loyalties to you, he doesn't forget that he's nanami's friend too.

which nanami could commend him for, he doesn't make it about himself, this is the day his daughters were born, he's meant to celebrate. call it common ground. geto's lips lift at the corners when he looks over to see the two of them slowly prying wrapping paper off the multiple boxes nanami had flown in. he'd been undecided on what to get because gifts are not his strong suit, he's never understood the need for such materialistic representations of love but he likes the twins, so he bought...everything under the sun. (yuuji helps them with the bigger ones and in the process, screeches so loud he almost breaks a window when it's revealed that nanako and mimiko have received not one, but two game consoles.)

"by the way, i'm not picking sides but i think you should talk to her," geto says warily, his hand clasped beneath his chin as he eases his way into the subject. to say that he's torn would be an understatement because he always does this. gets in his feelings and worries til grey hairs and frown lines appear yet, it shows. geto can't help but care for others and make it known, say it with words that don't get caught in his throat, and proves it through his many sentimental ways.

nanami almost dismisses the notion because it's not like he hasn't tried. it's been the longest time without seeing or hearing from you since...well, since you broke up with him via call, left your job, and stopped coming around the usual places. the cafe, the bakery. there had been a few missed calls in between (47 to be exact, all sparingly spaced out across weeks because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. he's meticulous like that) some voice messages he's left in your chat that probably went unheard. he's even contemplated if he should show up at your apartment. (but he's not crazy. of course not.)

instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he'll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.

"i appreciate your concern, but this is neither the time nor the place," nanami's face is impassive, showing no signs of honing any hard feelings. not on the surface at least. "besides, what good will it do, she has moved on." a tugging in his chest is felt as the memories of you showing up at his favourite bookstore with another man come flooding back.

gojo interrupts his thoughts, "about damn time, she's liked you for ages, i tried warning her but who knows what she ever saw in you," he complains while geto clicks his teeth and shoots him a piercing glare because he's definitely not helping the situation.

nanami clenches his jaw, he doesn't need reminders. he of all people should be very well aware that he sits in geto's living room with pompompurin ears on his head feeling at his very lowest because he's lost you and he lives with that regret every day.

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the tokyo museum hosts an exhibition on rodin sculptures. his life's work displayed in phases, epochs depicting the best and little-known, of stories centred around great heroes and lovers. their lives and feelings depicted in dynamic poses, down to the most intimate of embraces chipped and carved into bronze, alabaster, and marble. a preserved intimacy, a history behind every look and touch. haunting and somewhat forever living...just like the image of nanami in that bookstore haunts you.

"thanks for that," you say to the man beside you. voice travelling over the loud chatter among patrons. young and old and excessively rich. looking down, you peer over the pamphlet tucked by your elbow, stepping before different sculptures of varying sizes. you're stunned by the mastery of craft and precision but the emotions evoking within you are hesitant. like it was...wrong to be here with someone else. to be looking at these figures and having no relation to them. all that passion and yearning, why is it that you feel grief instead. a part of you missing.

"i saw it in his eyes, he's guilty," higuruma strolls next to you, bored out of his mind. “i mean, he looks guilty.”

“i’ve never seen him like that," you explain. not even when there were rumors about his past breakups floating around the office. nanami only seemed nonchalant. like it barely affected him. cutting someone loose a mere task he's checked off before it's back to work.

“what did you think he’d look like?” higuruma asks.

“relieved? happy?” he looked like a shell of himself, hollow, miserable. you wished you could relish in that, take pleasure in the way he seemed so empty, so dejected. payback, you think. for only loving you in silence, and thus, he suffers in silence too. but you find that you've been feeling just as brokenhearted.

hiromi shrugs, “from what i've seen, you’re entirely capable of making him as..." he pauses—tilts his head when you both come closer to a sculpture—then continues, "...afflicted as he is with you."

whatever hiromi means by that, you don’t know. his voice almost lost on your ears when he moves away from you to examine it closer. here, the sculpture portrays the man as a figure who is fully at the woman's disposal due to the adoration he possesses for her. 'The Eternal Idol' it reads. tenderness, sensuality, submission, and humility to the world in a woman's form.

you dismiss him, “please, you say that like he was head over heels in love with me, i think he just pitied me,” luring you in with the homemade bread and leatherbound jane austen. a voice so soothing and a face you see in every other man. an urge to place him next to them in comparison, hoping they’d shift and mold themselves to be the capable salaryman with blue shirts and a suit jacket that pools over your shoulders, smelling like tea and galettes and that they’d be just like him. only that they’d love you differently, loved you more, kiss you til your lips swell, and there wouldn’t be a need to hide or to fear or make you chase after the unknown, you’d know he loves you and only you. 

"these accusations you make are unfounded,” higuruma merely states, "and it's also rather unjust to yourself." when he turns towards you, you expect to see a teasing, flirty glint in his eye. instead, you're greeted with nothing but his flat expression before he looks away. oh, he was just being factual.

“you should be his attorney," you try to joke.

his lips quirk up by the corners, “not even i could plead his case, the man reeks of remorse, even if he did deceive you, he’s not proud of it, which makes him less likely to defend himself..." his hands come up to brush over the engraved caption on the plaque. they're nice hands, rough, but a little too big, too gentle, like he could let you go at any moment if he wishes. nothing like nanami's. if nanami were to hold your hand he'd hold on for dear life.

“there’s no justice in that,” higuruma's decided he's done with this sculpture, picks his head up and moves away to the next one, he doesn't get attached. he doesn't linger. maybe that's why you never took things further, he's always seen things in black and white, like you were just another one of his cases. saw the teary look on your face, the long hours pouring over every detail leading up to the end and he couldn't leave it alone.

you sigh, wrapping a hand around his arm as you continue to walk down crowded corridors. "speaking like a true lawyer, one who's so distinguished."

he breathes out a rare laugh, not a real one, just these puffs of air he exhales along with a grin. "so depraved, haven't i told you the system's fucked?"

at that, you let out a laugh too, for the first time in awhile, "i'm afraid it's the same when it comes to matters of the heart." you look up, savouring him for now. he's just here right the wrongs, bring some perspective, and that was all there was to it.

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by midnight, your phone starts buzzing by your side, jittering against the mattress. without looking at the screen, you have an idea of who it might most likely be on the other end.

ding. ding. you reach for it to see that it's nanami again. for the fifth time today. a new voice message he's recorded for you sitting there in your messages. waiting as always, for your recognition, for your reply. you wouldn't want to give him the privilege or the pleasure. you've broken up with him after all, but you're unable to pull away from him and his futile attempts. forget that you have yet to wake from the lingering bits of a dream, or that you've got an interview come morning.

nanami's voice fills the emptiness of your room, spine-tingling and molten hot. you almost miss the intros—hi, hello, please bear with me, all the usual. you've heard it in clipped and composed tones, as if he's rehearsed these lines, must have written them down on his legal pad before pressing record, his lines spoken awkward and uncertain way, tightly wound in guilt.

only now he sounds different. the exhausted drawl, the languid pulling of his syllables, slurring and seductive. "those hyacinths..." he starts, "don't over-water them." he had them delivered to your place and you had only accepted them because they were a gift, it would be sad to turn them down after he's paid for them. plus, it would be a shame to send them back, these florists have put in so much effort.

nanami pauses for a second, you hear him taking big gulps, no doubt the whiskey bottle is empty at this point before he continues, "am i any closer to getting you back?" after a short pause, the message goes silent, like he's realised what he's asked.

you press play on another where rambles on, or whatever is nanami's version of rambling. a deep voice rumbling from his chest, a heavy sigh, a string of words you can't tell decipher. if they're genuine or not with how needy he gets. nanami never gets needy. nanami never begs. it's just the alcohol talking, you wouldn't know what he's like when in the throes of proclamation...still, his voice curls its way into your heart, wringing it tight when he drawls, "tell me so i can be put out of my misery, or better yet, come back into my life."

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geto and gojo sit across from you at the library. their bodies dwarfing the kid-size chairs and desks. close by, mimiko and nanako work on their math problems both with equal amounts of distaste but suguru's promised they'll get double the snacks as a reward for tackling their multiplication tables, hence they try their best, fingers counting down one by one.

on the other hand, you're busy colouring a page from a fairytale. a scene of a royal couple dancing at a ball, lingering by the edges is a crowd looking on happily as they twirl under glittering stars, a whole universe cheering for their union. you hold back the forlorn sigh as your hand involuntarily reaches for a yellow crayon, even here, you wish to colour in blonde locks below the prince's crown. you can't see it any other way.

"sorry about the party," you apologize, missing their birthday bash hadn't been the plan, but suguru had given you the heads up on nanami's appearance and you thought...it wouldn't be a good idea. things were still too fresh, too new, it would've been uncomfortable for everyone.

you know it was a selfish excuse, but suguru won't hold it against you. "i understand," he replies but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. 'i understand' doesn't mean the same as 'it's okay to miss out on a special day because you're afraid of conflict'. which is why you're trying extra hard to make up for it now. shifting focus to your friends instead, you avert your attention. dodging any discussion about the breakup, or nanami, or the fact that you cling on.

satoru however, doesn't fall for any of it and jumps into his interrogation. his honesty comes out sharp and biting albeit genuinely oblivious—"how long are you planning on avoiding him?" his voice is too loud for comfort and the librarian would shush him if it weren't for his charm. he's been flirting with her so they get to check out as many books as they want, plus, waiving late fees goes against geto's rules but he'll take it as a kindness for now.

you roll your eyes, he's way too good at reading you, or maybe you've just been so transparent anyone would've notice. "i'm not avoiding him, it's called moving on," you try to reason, although it's starting to sound exactly as gojo puts it.

nanami chases you down for reconciliation and nothing more, a settlement of sorts. you've already assumed it was because of guilt. he doesn't want to be the bad guy possibly. why else would nanami be leaving messages, making calls, and sending a million flowers if not as an act of atonement.

and when has he ever needed to repent, nanami's always been so aloof, you've seen him brush things off with a calm and cool demeanour, sorry is merely a word he gives to strangers he's accidentally bumped into on the train. he'll come out of this with that perfect head on his shoulders held high after the remnants of past memories have faded and no longer hold any significance to him. he could always bake more french loaves and there's more wine to be tasted. he'll continue siphoning his emotions into the separate little folders of his makeup. you've never taken up the space of his heart because that shall be reserved for someone else—"he'll get over me in due time," you say, loathing how the words taste, how it makes you hate yourself.

"geez," satoru shrugs off the tension from his shoulders, "melodrama doesn't look good on you," the jab strikes where it hurts the most.

your face falls, give it a few seconds and you'll start crying in the middle of the children's section, "i guess i wanted more," you swallow down the embarrassment, typical that you've ended up here. back to where you've always been. single, jobless, a few pounds heavier, a few more cracks in your aching heart.

"there's a lot going on—" suguru cuts in, hoping it'll make you feel better, "—it's okay to feel as you do." sympathetic as it is, you start to wonder if you've traded in a birthday for a pity party when there's a truth in what satoru says.

in the silence that passes, the scene you work on is full of colour, save for the stars you've left in white. the twins have completed their exercise sheet, and satoru stretches his limbs and yawns like a cat basking under an afternoon sun. suguru might give him a pep-talk after this and he might feel bad for bringing up the whole thing, but it has to be said— "talk to the guy, he's never looked worse."

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on the walk home, the clouds start to gather. greying skies and thunder roaring above you. behind the clearing of mist and cold, you see him standing right outside your building. not knowing how long he's been there, but judging by the steady rhythm of his pacing feet, nanami's been waiting for a while. if anything, he's patient and—god help you—persistent.

the drizzle gets heavier and rain pours down over his body, soaking through the layers of fabric; his coat, his tie, his white shirt. golden blonde hair turning into a muddy shade of ash, strands clumping together, droplets hanging off and sticking to his skin. to his foggy glasses, thin-rimmed and shining. although drenched and dishevelled, he is every bit the man you love, and you hate that you can't look away, turn him down and kick him to the curb, pretend he doesn't exist.

taking him in, your heart clenches when the light of a lamppost next to you cuts a glowing line across his sullen face, highlighting the deep depths of his cheeks. you see that he looks exhausted, more so than usual, and he's lost a little bit of weight. you think to say something, ask him if he's been skipping meals, that it's no way to deal with his remorse. anything that would break the tension but kento beats you to it.

"we need to talk," he says in a low voice but it takes almost every fibre of his being to say it, "i thought this was the only way we could do so." he recognizes what he's doing, he's being invasive, he's being desperate and when was that word ever associated with him. not til now he supposes, not before you.

“don't you know it’s embarrassing to chase after an ex?" the bite won't be drowned out by pitter-patter, it stings, but he doesn't move an inch. swallows that lump in his throat and prepares himself for the words he's about to utter.

"i am not the best with words, but believe me when i say i am not ashamed of you–" he pauses. waits for your reaction but chooses to continue, nothing will come in between, not here and now, "forgive me—for my ignorance, for my restraint, it is because of me that you felt our relationship was one-sided."

that should do it he thinks, he's laid it out on the table, he's said what he came to say. placid and concise. and at first, he's relieved, he professes and proclaims without expectation. he didn't come here hoping for more, that part of him has been tampered with and put out by his own self-doubt. he only wishes to let you know. he'll force himself to be content with solely acknowledgement.

but he starts to worry when he sees the anger seep into your features. “you’re upset,” he states, unsatisfied, "i thought it would be best if we got closure—"

“did you come all this way just for closure?" your question hangs in the air. each passing second filled with the sound of raindrops and the million thoughts bouncing off his brain. you shouldn't put him through this anymore, it's practically ruining him from the inside out. “you’re forgiven, let it ease your conscience,” you say, ready to turn away and leave him for good this time.

he sucks in a breath, frustration prickling all over, “i am a man that’s lacking, trying to convey to you the things that cannot be conveyed, i have never been a passionate person and you knew this." you can see it so obviously in his expression that you've made him this way, twisting him up into knots over the need for verbalization, for definitions and arguments he can't give.

your eyes narrow, getting defensive. you always thought you could be the exception, that you'd be the one to experience it firsthand, his fervent need for you, whatever version of it you could get. "you denied me in front of people you cared about, you were always so cautious and constipated, like you couldn't bear it, i get that you're not into big girls but—"

"that's not true!" he says quickly, voice rising with tension. his hands come up to hold your face in them, thumbs rubbing over damp cheeks and warm skin before realizing...he's neevr actually felt it. how does a man concede, he's scared, fearful of an inevitable end, "i didn't want to lose you," he admits softly. lips less than an inch away, breaths a hair's width apart.

you try to pry his hands away, shaking your head, there's no use when "you can't love me the way i want you to and maybe i'm not the one who's meant to be loved by you."

nanami doesn't let go, "i can only love you the only way i know how, it was never my intention to make you feel less than—" with no more hesitance, no more weighing speeches and consequences, he tells you the truth—"my love for you...has made me selfish. it has consumed me, i want you so much that i don't know what to do with it. why should i put you through that, burden you with me."

"you were never a burden 'ken," his name sounds so bittersweet, as if there's still a fondness there, the way you gently hold those syllables without spite but he hears the longing, the hurt. "i didn't want you holding back for my sake, i've liked you for so long, i was ready for it all, even when it came to losing you, i don't need you to be something you're not."

he's never had that ability, despite his efforts, he isn't capable of detachment, with all his distractions and defeats, he's ultimately bound to you, too well tangled in his soul. "you shall move on but i cannot do the same—my life starts and ends with you, do you understand?” 

you nod silently, looking up at him with widened eyes and catching the specks of dew on his lashes when his eyes travel toward your lips, his thumbs caressing them tenderly, benevolently.

"despite my shortcomings and the fact that you are now seeing someone else, i would like to try again, please allow me to do my best." nanami opens up to you as a flower blooms, petals blossoming, coming apart to reveal the innermost parts of himself. red spreading across his skin from the tips of his ears to his lips when he parts them under yours. he wasn’t made to hide it, all that restraint keeping him from you, from what he knows is his deepest desire. made to love, loudly and forever. there, where two lives meet again, coming together and converging.

[brain-rot-central]

Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face. 

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter. 

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs. 

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?” 

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.” 

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict's eyes scan the words across the page. After your confession, he proceeded to buy one of Talbot's your poetry books.

'Tis in your eyes I seek comfort.

Your arms I find solace.

In your lips I find love.

'Tis in you that I find the whole world

Standing before in great beauty

But at an arm's length is where I stay.

The second eldest Bridgerton is in awe. Your words carry such deep meaning, a sense of longing. Is this how you feel? Had someone captured your heart and he was none the wiser?

So many questions have risen since he's learned of your secret identity. Your poetry carries a deep sense of love, desire, passion. He never expected such feelings to come from you. This is a completely different side of you he is now seeing.

In the past, when you shared your poetry with him, they had a light, romantic touch. A sense of naivety and fairy tale outlook on love and life. But as Talbot, it was different.

"Helloooo?" Eloise waves her hand in front of Benedict, breaking his concentration.

He slaps her hand away, "What?"

Eloise snorts, "I have never seen you so deep in a book before, brother."

"A few ladies mentioned Arthur Talbot's work and I figured I see what the fuss was all about."

His sister rolls her eyes, "Women fawning over men waxing romantic poetics. Typical."

"I cannot wait for the day you fall in love, sister, and make an absolute fool of yourself." Benedict stands from his place at the table in the drawing room. He steps out to see Anthony and Kate escorting you to the door. His eyes brighten, "Y/N, I wasn't aware you were here."

You nod to him, "Apologies, Mister Bridgerton. I was simply here to discuss...business with Lord Bridgerton," you gesture to Anthony.

Benedict frowns, "Why such formality with us? We've been friends for years."

"Aunt Eliza advises me that I should be formal with you. She said that there may be men who envy the idea that I am close with you. So it is best we remain more...formal."

Benedict's shoulders sag, "Very well. We mustn't deter any...future prospects."

You nod, "Thank you for understanding," you face Anthony again and curtsey, "My Lord, thank you again for the list." You then face Kate, "I shall see you later, my Lady."

"Of course. I look forward to spending more time with you."

You proceed to take your leave, Benedict's eyes following you as you exit the Bridgertons' home.

"Excuse me," Benedict murmurs, heading straight to the study and pouring himself a drink.

Anthony clears his throat as he enters the room, "Will you be okay, brother? Truly."

"I have to be. There are much better men out there that will be able to provide the life and freedom she deserves. I need to accept that." Anthony, approaches his brother and gives him a reassuring pat on his shoulders, "I commend you for doing this. It won't be easy, but with time, I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Yes...time."

_____________________________

"Tell me about yourself, Miss L/N," Lord Belmont says as he turns you about the ballroom among the other couples.

You have to admit that the man is handsome, "Well I love poetry and to read. I am a fair player of the pianoforte as well as the harp. I know Latin and Greek. I adore animals."

Lord Belmont hums, "How do you fare in the outdoors?"

"I enjoy my time riding and walking amongst nature."

The lord scrunches up his face and distaste, "Oh no. If you are to be my wife, you shall be inside at all times being lady of the house."

You look at him in disbelief, "Am I not allowed to step outside at all, my Lord?"

"Of course, but only when we need to attend balls or important festivities."

Thankfully, the dance ends and you quickly and politely excuse yourself. You head straight to the refreshment table. You grab a lemonade and gulp half the glass down.

"Are you well? You practically ran from Lord Belmont," Kate asks as she approaches you at the drinks table.

You hum, "While Lord Belmont is a handsome man, I do not think he would allow the...freedom, that I desire."

Kate nods in understanding, "I see. Well, onto the next then?" She hooks her arm around yours and guides you to the the corner of the room where Anthony, Benedict, Daphne, and a man you haven't seen before stands with them.

"Apologies, I bumped into Miss L/N at the refreshment table. She needed a break from dancing."

Daphne's eyes light up, "Wonderful! Miss L/N, this is the Duke's friend, Lord Montclair, a marquess" she gestures to the dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue velvet suit.

You curtsy, "Good evening, Lord Montclair."

He nods to you, "A pleasure, Miss L/N," he gives you a kind smile.

"Montclair, you have French heritage?"

His smile grows wider, "I do. My father is French. Have you been?"

You nod, "My family and I would travel there for the summer," your smile weakens, "Unfortunately, I have not visited for years now."

"I understand. It has been some time since I have visited as well."

You and the Marquess continue to look each other with kind eyes. Benedict hides his clenched fists behind his back. Kate watches her brother-in-law with careful eyes.

Daphne is beaming as she speaks, "Lord Montclair, Miss Y/N is well-versed in poetry."

"Really?"

You shy from his gaze, "Yes, um, my mother would read poetry all the time. I fell in love with it. I love how much emotion one can convey through few lines."

"She writes poetry, as well," Benedict speaks and you look at him in surprise, "The way her words can make you feel so much in small amounts of verses...it's a beautiful feeling."

You give him a grateful smile and turn back to Lord Montclair, "Mister Bridgerton flatters me, but I am a novice when it comes to poetry writing."

"I do hope I get to read some of your writing in the future, Miss L/N."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as Lord Montclair gives his attention to you, "Perhaps sooner than expected, my Lord."

Lord Montclair steps closer to you, "I know you are taking a moment from dancing, but perhaps you have space on your dance card for me?"

"Of course, my Lord," you offer him your dance card and watch as he scribbles his name in the next space, which happens to be for the next dance coming up.

"Oh, it seems our dance is here," he holds out his hand, waiting for you with a smile.

You place your gloved hand in his and follow him as he escorts you to the floor. You glance back at the Bridgertons, who all watch you with eager, careful eyes.

As they all watch you waltz with the Marquess, Benedict asks his sister, "Do you vouch for the Marcquess?"

She nods, "Yes. He is very kind. He enjoys reading and archery-"

"Brother, Y/N excels in archery, correct?"

Benedict clenches his jaw, "She does." His eyes never waver from you as you smile while dancing with the marquess.

"Looks like there may be some things they have in common," Kate says, eyeing her brother-in-law.

"How wonderful for them," Benedict murmurs as he walks away from his siblings.

Meanwhile, you and the marquess move along the ballroom floor with the other participants.

"The duchess tells me that you are looking for a husband this season," Lord Montclair says with curiosity in his tone.

You sigh, "Yes, and I shall admit that the search hasn't been very fruitful." Montclair snorts and you immediately apologize, "Excuse my forwardness, my Lord-"

He shakes his head, "No no. Please, continue. I can admire a woman who freely speaks her mind."

You nod, "I just look for a man who can give me certain freedoms. A husband that will allow me to pursue passions of mine, not expect me to sit there to be seen and not heard."

The marquess hums, "It just so happens that I am in the search for a wife."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes. To be transparent, I have been grieving for the past two years at the loss of my wife. I loved her dearly, but I miss the companionship."

"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. I also understand the yearning for companionship."

"Thank you. No one could ever replace, Maria, but I would like someone to be at my side as I continue on with life."

"Tell me about her," you kindly request.

You watch as a smile grows on the man's face. He goes on to share stories about Maria and you share things about yourself. You see the sadness in him but the willingness to put himself out there again. It's admirable.

________________________

You spend a large portion of your night conversing with Lord Montclair. The man was intelligent, charming, funny, and kind. He was the perfect man you see yourself marrying and yet...your eyes still wander towards Benedict. He spoke with some lords, danced with a few women. You knew you initiated the distance between you and Benedict, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt you.

That man has held your heart for several years and it seems he will never reciprocate the feelings you have for him. So it's best to start the process of moving on, hopefully, with Lord Montclair.

And Lord Montclair did not disappoint when he called upon you the next morning.

He sat across from you in the sitting room, Aunt Eliza nearby going over some paperwork.

You look down at the bouquet of flowers, your favorite, the very ones you mentioned last night during your dance with Lord Montclair.

"Have you read any new poems today?" You shake your head and Montclair pulls out a book you are very familiar with, "Have you read Arthur Talbot's work? He's fairly new yet quite popular already."

You bite your lip to prevent you from bursting into a fit of giggles, "I adore his work. He has an impressive way of words."

He opens the book to a dog-eared page. He clears his throat and begins to recite,

To love you is to bathe in your light

To sway to your laughter,

With its melody and rhythm

To swell with pride when your eyes gaze on mine.

For that, I am whole

And you are forever my muse.

You felt a little...odd. Considering that not only is Lord Montclair reciting a poem that you wrote, but it's also about a man you are trying to get over. Not what you expected when you received your first caller.

"I believe that was one of Talbot's earlier works, yes?"

Montclair nods, "Yes, but I still believe the feeling of what he was trying to convey is very much still there, don't you agree?"

"Very much so, my Lord."

After some lengthy discussion about Talbot's work, you two move to the piano so you can teach him how to play.

"I never did have much of an ear for music. My mother was quite disappointed in me when I was unable to play any instrument she placed in my hands."

You chuckle, "We shall start with something easy." You show him how to place his fingers on the keys, giggling as you move each finger to the right location.

You continue to laugh with each other as you teach him the simplest of songs, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

As you laugh when he gets the wrong note, a footman enters the room, "Miss L/N, you have another caller."

Daphne enters the room and you immediately stand, "Your Grace!"

The duchess' smile grows at the sight of you and Lord Montclair, "I do hope I haven't upset you with my intrusion, but it is nearing lunch and Lord Montclair hadn't return. But I see why now." she gives you a teasing look.

"I apologize for keeping Lord Montclair for so long, your Grace."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I was just checking that our dear marquess is alright."

Lord Montclair chuckles as he, too, stands from the piano bench, "As you can see, I am quite alright, but I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."

You shake your head, "Of course not, my Lord. It was a pleasure seeing you. I hope to see you again soon."

He faces you, "I hope to see you as well," he gently grabs your gloved hand and places a kiss atop it.

He then bows to your aunt, "Miss Y/N, good day."

"You as well, my Lord," your aunt responds with a wave.

You curtsy to Daphne, and she and the marquess both leave your home.

[probably-writing-x]

Curtains Closed - Part 2

Summary:

Warnings: I dont thinkkkkkk there's any?

Author’s Note: I love writing this concept and I loveee writing requests so please let me know if you'd like more parts of this or if you have any other ideas <3 Love you all x

———

You were sure that your reflection would start morphing if you stared at it anymore, or at least the small part that was visible in your compact mirror. Your makeup was still flawless, your hair still not even a fraction out of place, your outfit still hugging your body in the exact way it had done when you’d left. But now, sat in the car just before you had to leave, you wanted nothing more than to go home and change it all.

You should be high on life. You’d just won Best Actress for your role - a role you’d poured your heart and soul into. The film was a success, your name was in the headlines, everyone adored you. But as you were sat waiting to go into the after party, you couldn’t think of anything worse than having to celebrate your success alone.

“Are you ready to go honey?” Your assistant asks from beside you, offering you a smile.

She came with you everywhere, and she’d taken the plus one seat at the Oscars now that Drew wouldn’t be using it.

Drew. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day at your apartment, not even crossed paths once. You’d heard he’d been doing okay, and his film with Emily came out last week.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready,” You smile, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the car.

Vanity Fair was plastered along one wall of the red carpet, cameras lining up along the other side with their flashing lights, a sprinkling of celebrities across the carpet already.

You’re instantly whisked onto the carpet, told to stand in front of the sign and smile. You’d changed out of your lavish Oscar’s dress for one of the same colour, this one simpler, a silk dress that fell around your chest and hugged into your waist, dropping down to your ankles with an extremely low cut back.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Over here!” Strangers’ voices call out to you from all different directions, all accompanied by the flash of their cameras.

You know how to pose by now, looking over your shoulder, moving your dress in the right way, look left, look right, go back to the front, change pose. It was all relatively routine to you at this point.

“(Y/N)! Over here! Look this way!” Another few voices shout and you try to keep your smile just as wide, knowing all of them wanted to capture the perfect shots of the lead actress of the year.

Your assistant comes back over to you and leads you over to the interviews, a row of filming cameras and people with microphones all waiting to hear from you.

“So, congratulations (Y/N), all of us here are so happy for you. How does it feel to officially be an Academy Award Winner?”

You take in a deep breath and smile, “You know, it’s just beyond words. I am so so grateful, I just feel like I’m living in a dream!”

The interviewer smiles and proceeds with their next question, “So who are you going to be celebrating with tonight?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Um, you know, I’m here with my assistant who is literally with me through everything, so I’m very happy to be sharing this with her. And then I’ll be celebrating with my family and my close friends as soon as I can.”

“That’s great, (Y/N), thank you! Have a lovely night.”

You move onto the next couple of interviews and they all ask you similar questions, about the film, about how amazing it was to win, about who you’d be celebrating with. The latter always brought the same sickness to your stomach. When Drew first saw you act, he told you he knew there’d be a moment when the world saw you in the way he did - and he told you he’d be there to cheer you on from the front row. But you were on the stage tonight, and his seat was re-named.

“I think Madelyn has just arrived,” Your assistant comments, “I’m going to head in but it might be nice for you two to get some photos together.”

“Sure, I’ll see you in there!” You encourage and she disappears.

You glance around at the carpet and catch sight of Madelyn just arriving. She’s wearing a black floor length dress accented with thin feathers and she looks as elegant as ever. Her face brightens up as soon as she sees you.

“Oh my god (Y/N)!” She squeals, extending her arms to envelop you in a hug, “Oh my god I am just so so so so so proud of you.”

“Thank you!” You respond, squeezing her a little tighter, “I’m so glad you’re here, I needed to see you tonight.”

“Girl, I gotchu, don’t worry,” She squeezes your arm, “I will warn you though, in about ten seconds I think you’re about to see somebody you really don’t want to see…”

Her words trail off into the ringing in your ears as you see who had just stepped out of the car behind her. His tall frame fitted into an all black suit, with just a small white trim along the button line of the shirts. His hair is buzzcut short, his eyes as piercing as ever when they are so harshly focused on you. And they are. As soon as his eyes fall to you, it is impossible for them to leave. The whole world around you seems to stop completely, all the sound drown out, everything else a blur but him and his face and his eyes and… him.

“Are you going to be okay?”

"Yes, yeah, of course," You cough a little, "Why wouldn't I be?"

And then you see. On the other side of the car, Emily stepping out. Her hair is fixed perfectly in a messy up-do, a short dress accenting her long legs and the perfect curves of her body. Perfect.

All of the reality comes tumbling back to you, washing over you in rushes of excess noise and bright lights and people shouting. You feel like you could sink into the carpet beneath you.

"(Y/N)," Drew says, now walking the short distance over to you, "Um, hi."

"Hi," Your breath catches in your throat, "How ar-"

"Hey honey, let's get some photos done," Emily cuts in, hurrying over and linking her arm with Drew's, "Oh, hey, (Y/N), didn't even know you'd be here."

You fight back any hatred from your words, "Yeah, yeah, sort of comes with the win I guess."

You can feel Madelyn smiling from beside you. Drew is still yet to take his eyes away from you, his lips slightly parted as if on the cusp of saying something.

Emily moves her hand and links her fingers with his, pulling both his and your attention to the point where their hands intertwine, "Come on babe, they need to get my good angle."

There's never a good way to describe the feeling, is there? How your heart feels like it tears in two and completely stops, all at the same second, all with no warning. How your hands feel like they lose all feeling but your body suddenly feels hyperaware of everything. How your brain loses all focus and your eyes cease to work but you can still note down every detail of exactly what is happening in front of you. How your worst nightmare is playing out right there, but you can't bring yourself to look away.

Drew doesn't say anything, simply nodding and following behind her as she drags the pair of them to stand in front of the cameras. You watch the photographers start snapping the shots and feel the tears start to bubble in your eyes, threatening to spill and expose how you felt for the headlines - fanning a fire you had tried to put out.

"Oh no you don't," Madelyn squeezes your hand, "You're not crying for him tonight, today is your day."

She grips your hand tighter and the pair of you walk in towards the party, forcing against every instinct in you to not look back at the sight of your worst nightmare playing out in front of you.

~~~

It's a little later into the party and you've done everything in your power to try and not think about Drew and Emily. Luckily, you'd been busy all night with people wanting to congratulate you on your win, thanking them and laughing when they say they want to be with you in your next project. It is at least an hour later when you see him again.

You're at the bar, waiting for the bartender to bring you your order, taking a minute to breathe amongst a lot of posing.

"Excuse me mate, can I grab a beer and a glass of water, please."

You'd know the tone anywhere. The same voice that made you weak at your knees, made your heart race.

He leans over the bar waiting for his drinks, glancing right until his eyes fall on you, "Hey."

"Hi," You respond, just as the bartender comes back with your drink.

Drew looks at you and then down to the glass in your hands like he can't manage to keep eye contact for too long.

"I should go," You say quickly before all of the air feels knocked from your lungs.

Drew stretches out a hand and wraps his fingers around your forearm, "Please don't."

There's a pleading in his eyes that laces his words, echoing in the slight furrow to his brows. When he sees you don't resist his touch, he relaxes, but his hand doesn't move just yet.

"I didn't get a chance to say it earlier but congratulations, really, I-" He stops himself, "I know how much you deserve it, and I just wanted you to know that I'm... I'm proud of you."

You let out a shaky breath, but draw your shoulders back and try to inject some confidence back into yourself, "Thank you, I appreciate that. You always did tell me it would happen eventually."

Drew lets out a raspy laugh, dropping his hand from your arm to drag it over his short hair, "Yeah, well, I believed in you," He stops, "Still do."

There's an ache in your heart to reach out for him. To tell him about the new coffee shop in New York that you've fallen in love with and how you want to go to Italy for the summer, how you wished you were reading more recently and how you aren't sure whether to take a new TV role. You went to tell him all the big and all the small, all the bad and all the good and everything in between. You want him to know you like he did last year.

In the silence, he glances down and looks at your drink, "They didn't give you ice."

"Oh, yeah, no, it's fine," You shrug, "I don't mind."

He frowns a little and takes it from you, "Sorry, do you mind putting some ice in this?"

You hover beside him at the bar, scanning your eyes down the lines of his side profile. As much as he didn't know it all, he did know you. He always would.

"Here," He gives you back your drink, "You never were good at sending food back."

You stop yourself from smiling too much, biting the inside of your cheek.

"I wanted to say to you too," He chews at the inside of his lip like he does when he is nervous, "Me and Emily-"

You put up a hand to stop him, "I don't think you need to tell me, Drew. If you're happy, that's great. But it took a lot for me to get over you, and I don't know if I can do all of that again so-"

"We're not together."

The words stop you in your tracks.

"We're not dating, we never were, we never will be," He states, clearly like he wants to make it certain that you hear him, "The producers said it would be a good idea to spark some rumours to promote the film, I didn't want to do it but..."

"You're not dating?"

"No, god no," He shakes his head aggressively, "After you and I split up she mentioned something about there being something between us, but I told her that I was waiting for you, and she understood. We're just friends, and I don't want it to be anything more."

You fight back another smile, feeling a little bit more like your boyfriend was stood in front of you - the boy who knew you.

"I told you I'd wait for you, (Y/N)," He shrugs his shoulders like its the easiest thing he's ever said, "I meant it."

[genshin-obsessed]

Could I request fluff in a School AU where Zhongli is reader's senpai and she confesses to him on his graduation day in front of the whole school?

Howdy! This seems... so cute! Like recently, I've been watching a lot of slices of life anime and like... CUTEEE ^w^ honestly, this was meant to be a lot shorter but somehow... I accidentally typed too much. Because of this, it's rushed at the end but that's because I needed to finish it ;w; also, yes i am your best friend, didn't you know?

Character: Zhongli Word count: 4009 this really got out of hand Extra: School AU; I used Tartaglia's real name (Ajax); and it's a bit long! Don't mind!

warning: descriptive panic attack in the beginning so please proceed with caution.

Your hands were actually cold from how scared you were. They were shaking slightly, your heart was pounding in your chest, practically ready to burst out. Your vision was slightly blurry, sending you into a blind panic.

You couldn't breathe- you were sure you were going to die. Your back hit the cold wall but you could barely feel it as you slid down, hitting the ground below you. Your hands slammed against your chest, curling around the shirt of your uniform as you begged your body to just... breathe. Why couldn't you breathe? What the hell was happening? Y-you didn't want to die! Not now! You were too young!

The constricting feeling got stronger and it felt like you weren't ever going to be able to breathe. You closed your eyes to avoid seeing how everything was slowly caving in on you. You didn't want to see it.

"Hey, hey..." you felt hands touch your shoulders, but you barely registered them. They felt as light as feathers. In seconds, you felt your hair be pushed out of your face and so you tried to open your eyes. You could make out a face- barely. It was a boy, he seemed worried. "I'm going to help you stand, ok?" You just nodded, feeling the tears pouring down your cheeks. Your heart beat was so uncomfortably loud in your ears, it hurt.

After a few moments... you felt a cool breeze on your cheeks and the tightness in your chest began to loosen. The walls that had been caving in around you stopped and were just gone. You slowly opened your eyes and looked around- you were outside.

"Breathe with me." The boy said, sitting in front of you. He breathed in for four counts, held for seven counts, and breathed out for eight. At first, you couldn't follow too well, but he didn't seem bothered. He just breathed in and out repeatedly until you finally felt yourself calm down. Your face was tingling and you hated it- it felt so gross.

"There you go." He said with a smile as he pulled all your hair back and up, to free your neck. "Feel better?" You slowly nodded, sniffling as his face finally came into view. He was... cute. He had dark brown hair, with orange highlights, fair-toned skin, and orange eyes.

"Y-yes... th-thank you." You murmured, looking down. He brought you outside. That's what you were originally trying to do, but your panic attack hit so fast, you couldn't even make it to the doors. But he knew and he brought you out there.

"It's not a problem. Are you doing ok? Do you need anything?" He asked as he held out a water bottle to you. "Sorry, I drank some earlier but you should really hydrate after all that."

"Um... o-ok..." you said, shakily taking the water and opening the top. It seemed like he had just bought the water, seeing as how it was almost full and still cold. You brought the bottle to your lips and began to drink.

"Slow sips, don't rush it." He reminded as he readjusted your hair before using a hair tie on his wrist to tie it up.

"You just... have a hair tie on your wrist?" You asked, seeing the indentation of it on his hand.

"Yeah, I'm friends with these girls who always need one but never bring one. So, I started doing it. Silly, I know, but it can be handy for other things. And I'm glad I had it, seeing as how it helped you." His smile was so radiant even though it was a calm one. "Here." He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief, slowly dabbing your face.

"You didn't have to help me." You said quietly, mainly to yourself but he heard it as well.

"I suppose I didn't have to, but it would've felt wrong not to. Who just watches someone have a panic attack and walks away?" He said with a smile as he finished up, before fanning your face a little. Your cheeks were still pretty red, but that wasn't surprising.

"... (y/n)..." you murmured, making him tilt his head.

"What was that?"

"Oh, my name. It's (y/n)." His eyes widened a little before a smile spread on his lips.

"It's very nice to meet you, (y/n). My name is Zhongli. I hope we can be good friends."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That was the day you fell for your upperclassman named Zhongli. He was a really sweet guy, super popular, thoughtful, and always prepared. Since that day, every time Zhongli saw you, he walked over, happily greeted you and asked how you were feeling that day. At first, you would awkwardly reply, but then you got used to it. Sometimes, you'd see him walking with his friends and he'd stop to come say hi to you before classes. You two didn't live near each other, but he still made an effort to walk with you as far as he could. Every now and then, he'd show up to your class before it started and give you a snack, whether it be candy, a drink, maybe something healthier.

Honestly, it was no surprise you eventually fell in love with him. You two talked all the time and he was just so perfect. He took care of you without even realizing it! Some days you'd forget breakfast and that would be the day he stopped by to give you an apple because he brought an extra or something. His kindness knew no bounds.

Your friends teased you all the time about it. The cutie upperclassman who’s always hanging around you, giving you food, drinks, helping you with homework and everything else. Let's not forget the way you'd respond. Your cheeks would turn bright red, you'd look away awkwardly, barely being able to stutter out a thank you. Zhongli was really attractive and a lot of girls liked him- even some guys. So you being added to that list was inevitable.

"It's because he didn't study." Xiao recalled, rolling his eyes as a dejected Ajax followed him and Zhongli.

"No way! I stayed up all night to study!" The orange-haired boy responded with a pout as he glared at his shorter classmate. 

"Cramming everything the night before a test almost never works, you should've known that." Zhongli said with a smile as he looked over at the two.

"I heard you never study." Ei added as she looked up at Zhongli, who's eyes widened.

"Who said that? I study all the time."

"Uh, taking notes and rereading them that day and never touching them again isn't exactly studying." Xiao stated as he looked up at Zhongli.

"Yeah, you're like superhuman dude." Ajax said with wide eyes. "You always get the best grades- especially in history- and all the teachers love you, man!"

"That's because he doesn't talk in class 24/7." Ei shot with an eye roll, to which Ajax's eyes widened.

"I don't talk 24/7! I just happen to always have important things to say." The group went on their way as they kept chatting when Zhongli spotted you out of the corner of his eye. A small smile appeared on his face and he stopped, making his group stop too.

"I'll catch up with you guys in a bit."

"Ahh, it's that little cutie you talk to all the time." Ajax said as he threw his arm around Xiao's shoulders and leaned forward a bit. You were talking with your friend, Pocket, giggling about something. Zhongli's smile softened and he nodded.

"They are cute, aren't they?" For a moment, his eyes were locked on you and only you. The entire world vanished for a moment as he heard your sweet laughter ring in his ears. 

"You should introduce me- OW!" Ajax exclaimed when Xiao's hand slapped his face. "What the hell, dude?"

"Stop looking at those two. (y/n) is out of your league and that other girl wouldn't be interested in you even if you were the last man on earth." Xiao replied coldly, crossing his arms.

"That's- you don't know that! What? Is the other one more your type?"

"No way," Ei replied without missing a beat. "Neither of you are her type. I know her, she's a good friend of (y/n)'s. We share a class together."

"She's an upperclassman? How come we haven't seen her?" Ajax asked, making Ei shake her head.

"She's got an advanced class. Those classes that count as college credits." Ei explained as she placed her hand on Zhongli's back and pushed him forward a little, causing him to break out of his trance. "Go talk to them. We'll go on ahead." She began to walk ahead, urging Xiao and Ajax to go as well.

"Ah, cutie incoming." Your friend Pocket said as she looked at Zhongli and waved. "Good afternoon."

"Hello. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Zhongli said, making you and Pocket shake your heads.

"I was just leaving actually!" Pocket said as she waved before turning and walking away quickly. You rolled your eyes a little playfully before turning to your crush.

"What's up, Zhongli?"

"Nothing much, I just saw you and wanted to say hi. How are you feeling today?" You smiled at the usual question and nodded.

"Good, actually. I did really well on my test I took yesterday, so that definitely made me happy!"

"Oh, congratulations! Not that I'm surprised, you're pretty smart." He said, patting your head. Your cheeks flushed red and you looked away shyly.

"I-it's just because you helped me study." 

"Yeah, but it's your own little brain's doing for keeping all that information together until you could take your test. You should give yourself more credit." He said as he poked your forehead.

Your heart was pounding in your chest from just that little interaction and you suddenly had the urge to confess. What if you just... blurted it out now? Said it, asked him out, see what would happen? No, no way! What the hell were you thinking? He wouldn't feel the same. Zhongli was friendly with everyone. That didn't mean you were special. Slowly, all that excitement just vanished and you felt a coldness settle in your heart.

The two of you made light conversation as Zhongli walked you back to your class before you parted ways. Throughout the day, you couldn't help that small bit of sadness that followed you at the thought of Zhongli not liking you back.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

APPARENTLY, it was so bad, your friend had to take action. Sure, maybe you couldn't confess to Zhongli, but why not just see what he thought.

Pocket waited outside of Zhongli's class, planning on what she wanted to say. Maybe her approach was going to be aggressive, but she needed to get answers now so she could finally push you to confess!

Finally, all the students began to file out of the class and Pocket patiently waited and waited until Zhongli walked out with Ei and Ajax. She immediately called out to Zhongli, making him stop.

"Oh, hello. You're (y/n)'s friend, yes?"

"Yep, that's me. Don't mind me being a little forward, but do you like (y/n)?" Ajax and Ei's eyes widened as they didn't expect you to be that forward.

"Um... they're a good friend of mine, so of course I do." Zhongli replied as he turned to face her.

"I meant like romantically. Do you like (y/n) romantically?" Zhongli fell silent as he gazed at the short girl in front of him.

"Why... do you want to know?" Now the empty halls were uncomfortably silent as Pocket practically stared down Zhongli while Ei and Ajax watched quietly.

"It's a simple question. I'd like for you to answer it." Pocket pressed, placing a hand on her hip. Ei was a little... confused. Pocket was never like this, she was actually quite the shy and kind girl. Not whatever the hell this was. She looked over at Ajax, only to see his eyes glimmering, making her jab his side.

"What if I don't want to?" Zhongli replied, a look of seriousness falling upon his piercing orange eyes. Pocket began to walk toward him and stopped when she was just a foot away from him. There was a significant height difference, but she didn't seem bothered at all.

"Just making sure you won't get in my way." Now Zhongli was confused, that's the last thing he expected out of her.

"Wh-what?"

"I like (y/n) and I wanted to make sure you won't be getting in my way." She replied with a shrug. "Good to know." As Pocket began to walk past him, Zhongli grabbed her arm and stopped him, staring down at her.

"Yeah, I do. You can like them all you want, but I won't take that lying down." 

"Oh? Aren't you graduating in a week or something?" Pocket shot back, making Zhongli's hand tighten around her arm for a moment. He didn't say anything, but Pocket got what she wanted right there. Once he let go, she kept walking, briefly looking at Ei and sending her a wink. 

Ei's eyes widened as all three of them watched Pocket walk away before she looked at Ajax, beside her, then Zhongli, who seemed... upset. 

"Woah! I didn't think she was capable of that!" Ajax said, making Zhongli roll his eyes.

"I think... it was a ruse." Ei said slowly, looking at Zhongli. "She likes this one guy, I heard her talking about him, he's in our class. That one guy, with the red hair." 

"There's a lot of guys with red hair, that doesn't help at all." Ei rolled her eyes at his words and sighed.

"Diluc- that guy. Quiet, smart, rich, has that annoying brother." Oh, that guy.

Well, she can like two people at the same time." Ajax replied, making Ei look at him, unconvinced.

"She'd ask (y/n) out but not that guy?" Ajax just shrugged as both of them looked over at Zhongli. "You ok?"

"Fine. Come on." Zhongli said with a dismissive sigh as he began walking in the same direction they were previously headed. So many thoughts weighed heavily on his mind after that simple interaction and he wondered if there was any truth to Ei's words. Was she... messing with him? Was it an attempt to get him to admit he did like you? Well, she did it- she figured it out. Now here he was, a bit of a mess wondering if he should just outright tell you. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"You should just ask him out!" Pocket said as she rushed after you on your way home.

"No way! What if he says no? Do you know how embarrassing that would be? Besides, he's friendly with everyone. He hasn't exactly given me any reason to believe I'm special." You replied as you rubbed her face.

"You'll never know unless you try." Your friend explained, but you were adamant. "Come on, (y/n), are you really ok with never trying? What if he does like you?" You abruptly came to a halt, your eyes widening.

What if... Zhongli felt the same way? That would make you so happy. Being able to hold hands with him, hug him, spend a lot more time with him... kisses- ah! it was too much!

You slowly lowered yourself to the ground, covering your red face, hearing Pocket yell behind you.

"What the hell? Are you ok?!" She bent down beside you and pushed your head back, making you lower your hands. Your face was bright red and it made her laugh. "Oooh! so you're thinking of dating him~" you smacked her arm, which just increased her laughter. "Sorry, sorry, but that should be motivation. What if you could have him? Doesn't that make you want to try?"

It did... it really did.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The week following was extremely busy for Zhongli and all the graduates because... graduation was coming up. They had entrance exams, college admissions, homework, and finals all coming up together. Zhongli and the other upperclassmen were drowning under the pressure.

You were able to find a moment in which you gave him a small handmade chocolate to help with all the upcoming stress. Not only that, but you intended to confess. Thing was... when it came time, all you could do was hold out the chocolate and wish him luck with the entrance exams. He smiled brightly, thank you, and ruffle your hair as he left. You were disappointed, that was your best chance... and you flaked! But that smile was all worth it. You could see some of that tiredness lift when you gave him your gift. 

"I'm... rooting for you, Zhongli." You whispered to yourself as you watched his figure disappear down the halls.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"This is your last chance." Pocket said as she grabbed your arm, making you stop and look at her. "He will leave after this, don't do it, (y/n). Don't miss your opportunity. You frowned as you met her eyes before looking away and shaking your head. No, no way! You couldn't do it.

"What makes you think I can do it now? In front of the entire school? I couldn't tell him in the hallway a week ago." You said, dejected and feeling the overwhelming sadness coming back. No way, you'd just have to wait till after. 

Pocket opened her mouth to speak, but that's when the ceremony began. Unfortunately, you two wouldn't have much time to talk so you quickly made your way to your seats.

The graduating class was quite large, actually, so finding Zhongli wasn't easy. But you kept your eyes peeled, and of course, your friends ended up spotting him first.

The ceremony was quite long, almost hitting the two hour mark. The last and final bit was the walk across the stage. Your eyes were locked on Zhongli the entire time, watching as he smiled and waved at his family and friends. You might've been too far away, but you did notice his golden-orange eyes searching the crowd. So, you did what you thought might help and stuck out your arm and waved.

You watched his face light up and he waved back excitedly as if he'd been waiting to spot you. Just that simple act made your heart flutter. As the ceremony progressed, Pocket's words kept ringing in your head. What if you did just confess to him? Take your chance? The more you thought about it, you felt the fear creeping into your mind. What if he rejected you- and he most likely would.

You frowned and turned to Pocket, but she shook her head, being able to read your thoughts as they were so clearly written on your face.

"Look, I would never push you into a situation that would end in failure. Especially not right now. Trust me." She said and the look she had in her eyes... it instantly put your nerves to ease.

"Ok, I trust you." 

The ceremony flew by, mainly because you were still slightly anxious and it felt as if time was moving so fast. It's not like you didn't want to confess and Pocket's added confidence did help comfort you, but not 100%. 

"There," Pocket said as she dragged you by the arm and pointed to where Zhongli was. He was smiling as he talked to some of his friends, probably elated to finally be graduating. "Ok. I believe in you! Go confess." Pocket said in a slightly loud whisper as she nudged you forward.

You steeled your courage and took a deep breath before slowly walking to Zhongli. He smiled as he saw you, waving to you immediately.

"Ah, (y/n)! Thank you for coming." He said with a smile as his friends turned to smile at you as well.

"We saw you and your friend, you two were really loud." Ei said with a chuckle, referring to your applause when Zhongli walked across the stage. You felt your cheeks flush red and looked away.

"Oh, yeah... sorry about that."

"No way!" Ajax said with a laugh as he leaned toward you, "if only you were that loud when I walked across the stage."

Zhongli and Ei quickly pulled the pouty boy away from you as Zhongli stepped towards you, quickly sending a message to his friends that he wanted to speak with you. They just stepped a few feet away to continue their conversation. 

"Are you ok? You look nervous." Zhongli murmured, noting the slight discomfort in your gaze.

"Um, yeah, I just have..." you paused and took another deep breath. "Ok, so you've been a very close friend of mine since the day you helped me out with my panic attack. You've always been there for me, you're always looking out for me, and you're like... you've never left me alone. You don't let me feel alone either." As you spoke, you found the words coming to you easily. You didn't notice it, but the group of graduates and their friends around you began to look towards you two. Zhongli noticed and his face flushed red, but he didn't say anything.

"That's because you're really important to me, (n/n)." He said softly, smiling down at you. You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at the way he spoke your nickname.

"You're important to me too... a lot more than I realized. Zhongli, I really like you. Like a lot. I wanted to ask- and I hope this isn't a bad time- but will you be my boyfriend?" There was a silence that hung in the air for a moment and it sent a wave of panic through you.

Zhongli's eyes were wide, sure your speech sounded like it was going towards a confession- and it did- but he still didn't expect it. His eyes softened and he smiled, reaching out to touch your cheek.

"Ah, beat me to it." He chuckled, making your eyes widen. "But yes, I'd love to be your boyfriend." 

"Go Zhongli! Look at your red face!" Your eyes snapped to Zhongli's friend, Ajax, who was staring with the biggest smile. That's when it dawned on you that you just confessed in front of the entire graduating class of 200 students! AND their friends!

"Shut up, Ajax." Xiao said as he slapped a hand over Ajax's mouth, but it was too late. Zhongli's other friends were also cheering, either sending a remark or just letting out a whistle- in an attempt to tease their friend and it worked. Zhongli's face was bright red but he just laughed it off.

"Ah, thank you everyone." He said graciously as he wrapped his arm around you. "Don't worry, they're not making fun of you. They're just teasing me." Zhongli was popular, so it wasn't surprising most of the graduating class was fond of him.

You slowly hid yourself in his chest, covering your face. That felt so embarrassing and you slowly looked to the side to see Pocket... with her phone up. 

"Oh, yeah, I wanted to make early memories!" She said with a giggle, making Ajax's eyes widen.

"Shortie! Send me that!" He said, running over to her with his phone out, airdrop ready to go.

"Leave her alone-" Xiao yelled, running right after him. 

"I know it's in front of a lot of people, but... can I kiss you?" Zhongli asked with a slight smile. Most of the people around you were still watching you two, but they were engrossed in their conversations about how cute the confession was.

"Q-quick one." You said with a nod, making him take your face and lean in. The kiss was indeed short, but it was sweet and seemed like a... preview to what a much longer kiss would be like from him. 

Of course, Zhongli's friend didn't let that go either, letting out a loud "ooh", embarrassing both him and you.

[warriorofdragons]

Way To A Man’s Heart

Word Count: 1.5k

Cole wraps his arms around you and rests his chin in the crook of your shoulder, “MmHm! This smells good already!” You laugh as you continue to brown the meat in the pan, “Well, I know how much you love pasta.” It was date night and you were cooking Cole’s favorite food for the both of you at your place. “Have you ever made spaghetti for me before?” he asks. You’re thoughtful for a moment, “No, I don’t think I have. Usually you’re the one to cook pasta.” “Well, I do love pasta,” Cole chuckles in your ear. You giggle, “I’ve noticed.” You set the spatula aside for a moment and pick up another utensil and stir the pasta you’re boiling the next burner over. Cole sidesteps with you, still glued to your backside. You turn your head to look up at him as best you can, “Cole, if I trip-“ you laugh. “Well, I’ll be here to catch you, Sweetheart,” he says simply. You laugh again and set your utensil back down and then pick up one of your spices and season the meat again. Then you start to turn away from the stove, but Cole’s embrace prevents you from getting very far, so you gently pat his arms, “Okay, I’m going to need you to let go of me for this one,” you say. Cole relinquishes his hold on you and you turn towards your counter where you already have your other spices, a tomato sauce can, and a glass bowl waiting for you. You open the can of tomato sauce first and pour it into the bowl and then you measure out your spices and add them to the mix. Cole leans on the counter and watches you work, a lovesick grin on his face. You stir the seasonings together and then you take out a small cutting board from your cabinet drawer and grab a knife, “Hmm…Cole could you get me about a dozen Oregano leaves?” “Oh, sure,” he says striding towards the fridge and opening it. “Oh no, Cole, I meant from my Oregano plant, it’s in the windowsill,” you direct, pointing toward the other room. Cole’s eyes widen and he turns to you with a smile on his lips, “You’re growing Oregano?!” he asks both surprised and delighted. “Mmhmm,” you nod, “I need you to pluck them and then wash them for me, please?” Cole leaves the room to find your Italian Oregano plant and you take down a bowl and then fill it with cool water from the kitchen sink. Next, you turn the meat over and chop it into finer pieces and that’s when Cole returns with the requested Oregano leaves. “I don’t know why I never thought of growing my own Oregano myself, seeing as how much pasta I eat,” Cole says. “Fresh Oregano definitely makes it taste way better,” you say. “Oh man my mouth’s all watering just thinking about it,” Cole says placing his left hand on his stomach. You hold up the bowl of water for him and Cole drops the leaves into it. “Now, what am I supposed to do here?” he asks looking to you for instruction. “Just give them a rinse and swirl them around to make sure there’s not any dirt or anything on the leaves,” you say. Cole does as you say and then you take the bowl from him and drain the water and remove the leaves. Then, you place the leaves onto your cutting board and proceed to chop them into tiny pieces. Once you’re satisfied with that you brush them from your cutting board with the back of your knife into your sauce bowl and then stir them all together. You check to make sure your meat’s cooked all the way through and then turn down the heat slightly and stir in the sauce. You bring all of it to a boil and then turn the heat down to simmer and cover the pot with a lid. You check on your pasta again and it’s almost done.

“Want me to set the table?” Cole asks. “Yes, thank you, Cole,” you say. Cole takes some plates from the cabinet and begins setting a place for you both at your little table while you clean up your counter space. Cole also sets out a couple of glasses for you both and even fills yours for you after he asks what you want to drink from the refrigerator. You hear a subtle click and turn to glance over at him and realize that he’s also lit the candles on your table with his lighter. Your timer for the spaghetti finally goes off and you don the oven mitts and remove the pasta from the stove and then step over to the sink where you have a colander waiting. You pour the hot water out of the pot and into the colander until only the spaghetti noodles remain. Then you turn to look for a place to set the pot down, but find that you didn’t set a pot holder down on the counter yet. Cole sees your struggle and swiftly finds one for you in the drawers and sets it down in front of you. “Thank you, Sweetheart,” you say after placing the pot down and giving him a kiss. You turn off both burners on the stove and then set another pot holder down and move the sauce pan to it. Cole more than happily brings his plate to you and you fill it with spaghetti noodles. “Is that enough?” you ask. “A little more?” he asks. You give him another scoopful of pasta and then pour the sauce over the pasta. He returns to the table and then to your surprise brings you your own plate on his return trip to the counter. You fill your plate and set it back down in your spot and then you uncover the plate of garlic bread you’d made earlier and move it to the table between you and your boyfriend. You take your seat as Cole immediately digs into his spaghetti, twirling his fork in it and shoving it all into his mouth. You laugh and then take a bite of your own food. “Mmmhm!” he exclaims, mouth still full. He takes another huge bite before finally getting any actual words out, “Darlin’, this is so good! Your spaghetti’s even better than mine,” he praises. You blush, “I don’t know about that, Cole, you make some pretty good pasta.” “Mmm, I’m serious,” he says taking another bite. You giggle at him, “Slow down, Cole, you don’t need to eat so fast, there’s plenty more where that came from.” He continues to chew and even closes his eyes savoring it. And when he finally swallows and opens his mouth to speak again, “True, and this is so good I’m definitely going back for seconds.” You laugh, “That’s sweet, but you always go back for seconds.” “Only when it’s your cooking, Sweetheart,” Cole says. You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, your cooking And pasta,” Cole relents. You turn your attention back to your dinner and take a couple of bites of spaghetti  yourself before breaking off a piece of garlic bread. “It’s just you know what they say?” Cole says letting the question hang in the air. You look back up at him as you munch on your bread, waiting for him to finish. But you only find him smiling fondly at you with a soft look in his eyes. “No, what do they say?” you ask. “That the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Cole says sweetly. You smile and shake your head, “Oh, you,” you say and reach out across the table for him. His right hand meets you halfway and he takes your hand in his. You stare up into his eyes as his thumb strokes over your knuckles, you then lean forward over the table and Cole rises to meet your lips. You hum as you part from him and Cole settles back down into his chair. “Hmm, garlicky,” he says licking his lips. “Oh, sorry,” you say covering your mouth with your other hand. “Oh, Honey, you’re fine. In fact it’s reminding me that I haven’t had a chance to try the garlic bread you made yet,” Cole says. He then picks up a piece of garlic bread from the plate in front of you both and bites into it. “Mmm,” he hums in approval once again. You laugh lightly, “Well, I don’t know about food being the way to someone’s heart, just that I know you’re already in mine.” Cole gasps quietly and his face softens to a look of awe, before he smiles so wide it crinkles his eyes, “You’re in my heart too, Honeysuckle,” he says, “And it didn’t require you making me pasta.” “Although I’m sure it didn’t hurt,” you tease gently. Cole reaches up and cups your face in his hands and then he leans over the table and kisses you again.

[redwayfarers]

(you) restless son

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Nika/Artoirel Characters: Nika Perseis (WoL), Artoirel de Fortemps, Minfilia Warde (mentioned) Rating: Mature (direct references to sex, though the scene is fade to black) Words: 1795 Spoilers: Heavensward spoilers read on ao3

Nika’s visits to Ishgard have been few and far between recently, but every time he does go there, he makes sure to go straight to the Fortemps manor. It’s become something of a home, if you can count the presence of the few people he’s bonded with in this whole frozen hellhole. He hasn’t had a home in a long while, least of all in a person. It’s a strange feeling and something entirely too tender for Nika’s harsh hands, but it settled under his skin and it’s not going anywhere. 

He can’t complain all that much, really, when it affords him unlimited access to Artoirel. He likes Emmanellain just fine, and Edmont makes for a nice dinner buddy when he isn’t being a horrible parent to his sons.  But Artoirel is the heart of that whole oversized house for Nika; it’s his face rising amidst everyone else that makes his shoulders relax and his jaw unclench. When did he clench his jaw so much anyway? And more importantly, why is he noticing that? 

No matter. What matters is that time after he settles in his room, after he eats dinner, or lunch, or whenever he happened to burst upon their door like a cannonball, when he and Artoirel go to the grand salon with the big piano, drinks in hand, and find comfortable places on one of the couches. What matters is the way Artoirel loosens his collar, opens his throat up a little, and Nika can’t help but look at the way it bobs ever so slightly under his gaze. 

“Do I have something on my… throat?” Artoirel asks, confused, red in the face, and Nika looks at the glass in his hand. 

“No,” he says and rubs the side of his neck. “I just think you look better without the cravat.” 

“Such are the fashions of Ishgard, Nika.” 

“Fuck the fashions of Ishgard, Artoirel.” Nika looks at his own shirt, open at the front, and the length of his white boots. Artoirel follows suit; his eyes linger on the exposed skin of Nika’s chest. “Some of them, anyway.” 

“Not all of us can make that shirt look good,” Artoirel comments quietly. “You and Lord Stephanivien, perhaps. As for myself? The cravates are that much presentable.”

“Bah, you’re too prim and proper.” Nika puts a foot down. The heels echo in the otherwise silent room like a battle trumpet. It may be the drink he’s had, but his next words come out offensively shamelessly. “I like the way your collarbones look.” 

Artoirel huffs amicably and shakes his head. “You may look at them as you please, then,” he replies, though his voice is colored by something Nika doesn’t dare name. 

“Thank you for the permission.” Nika says as he downs the rest of his drink and pours himself another glass. “I will now proceed to indulge myself. At the grand piano, of course. Why would we go in the grand salon if not to play the fucking piano?” 

“I did want to show you a composition I have been working on in my leisure time,” Artoirel says. He sounds almost uncertain, half the size he usually is on the battlefield, or in the political arena of Ishgard. “What?” 

“You’re afraid I’m gonna hate it or something? Is that why you sound like you’re a kid meeting your idol for the first time?” 

Artoirel laughs in disbelief. “Nika, do you realize even an inkling of what weight your opinion carries? You are the Warrior of Light, the slayer of Nidhogg. You rode into Ishgard on a dragon - the first individual to have done so in history. You are one of Eorzea’s best living bards. Compared to you, I am but playing pretend.”  

Nika blinks. “Didn’t wanna be that hero you bring up,” he says. “If it was up to me, I’d be playing my little lute and singing about other people. But no, Minfilia had to use my arrow shooting prowess to kill a primal or two and now here I am.” The thought sticks to his skin even though he vehemently tries shaking it away. His heart aches for Minfilia still; the love he’s nursed for her feeds into his bloodstream. His knees will forever ache from kneeling at her feet, and the memories of her soft voice and gentle smiles and kind eyes will nurse them back to health. 

But recently, in the midst of all the grief he wears around his neck like a collar, he’s found it in himself to be angry at her. Angry she didn’t stop sending him when he asked her to. Angry she kissed his tears away only to send him off to his potential death afterwards. Angry she never told him, no, stop loving me, not until she fucking died and stayed in the aether, and he had to go see fucking Hydaelyn herself just so he could hear it. 

Artoirel does nothing of the sort. If anything, Nika feels like he’s stringing him along, pulling at his heart that wants nothing more than Nika’s presence. Artoirel never asked him to be the hero. Everything since he’s arrived in Ishgard has been Nika’s choice. Any hurt he feels about that shit he can lay at his own feet and use it to cut open his heart again. 

Nika drowns the entirety of his glass in one chug. “You give yourself too little credit,” he says. “Too fucking little.” He curls a hand around Artoirel’s slender shoulders to run his fingers over those biteable collarbones.

“Nika,” Artoirel goes to stand up just as Nika’s hand bends around his shoulders, and the height difference makes Nika take a step forward and his hand slides down to Artoirel’s waist. He holds it anyway. 

“Let’s go play the piano,” Nika says. His voice is gruff, stuffed to the brim with need and anger and yearning and the drunkenness of the whiskey and the warmth of Artoirel’s skin. “Let’s go play the fucking piano or I’m pinning you down on these overpriced floor covers.” 

Artoirel’s mouth opens and the tips of his ears burn bright red. His hand folds in a fist and he tries to look down, avoid Nika’s eyes, but the fact he’s tall as all fuck bites him in the ass so hard that he just ends up looking where he didn’t want to. Or did he want to? He shifts his body closer to Nika’s, hip to waist, and Nika’s fingers play over his shirt. 

“There’s a story,” he says. “I know of someone who supposedly had sex with her lovers in her grand salon and over the piano, specifically. That poor piano, I’d thought. Of course, I don’t normally follow that kind of rumor, but I’d overheard it and it stayed with me.” 

“Piano sex? What happened to walls, floors, or even good old fashioned beds?” Nika feels his face burn. Must be the drink, he thinks, even if he has to admit that Artoirel’s words are only making whatever need that’s already been here stronger. He doesn’t even know what Artoirel’s lips feel like, but he does know he wants to kiss them, and that Artoirel wants to kiss him too. 

It’s just never been this direct! Nika blames the whiskey, the open shirt, those delicious looking collarbones, Minfilia’s memory, Ishgard itself. He knows what it feels like - Estinien’s hands on his skin are a refreshed memory - but this is Artoirel; his Artoirel, the way Minfilia was never his, his to spend time with, his to kiss, his to enjoy, his to listen to him laugh. His to make Nika’s heart beat and warm up faster than any fire would. 

“I suppose she has had enough of those options by that point,” Artoirel shrugs, but his cheeks are still red, his hair’s in disarray, his lips are slightly parted, thin and pink, and those fucking collarbones are still taunting Nika like it’s their one job. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Nika replies, as if that makes any sense to the prior conversation. “And I want to kiss you so, so badly.” 

“I would very much like to kiss you too,” Artoirel replies, holding onto the edges of his self-control. Nika can feel his fingers ghost over the skin of his jaw and takes a deep breath not to groan from the way it sends sparks down his spine. The knowledge Artoirel wants him just as badly, right now, makes his belly tighten. “May I?” 

“Yes,” Nika breathes and Artoirel’s facing him, tall, relaxed, hair a dark halo around his head. His eyes are impossibly wide, impossibly big, and Nika rises on his tip toes and wraps himself around Artoirel’s body, like he was made to be here. Maybe he was. Maybe he was made to share breath with Artoirel de Fortemps for torturously long moments before their lips meet, maybe he was made to bury his fingers in his hair and pull him down on the couch. His body soars and he’s shaking with need and his heart beats wildly in his chest. 

And when their tongues touch, Nika claws at Artoirel’s back. I’m going to fuck this man tonight, he thinks, and it feels brash and crude but he can’t help himself. Artoirel moans into the kiss, and it only serves to make Nika’s skin even tighter. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Nika says between kisses, pulls on Artoirel’s hair. “Stop me if you need to, fuck, Artoirel, I want to bite your chest, and I want to make you feel good, I want–” 

“Yes,” Artoirel breathes out. His body’s shaking beneath Nika’s touch and Nika peppers his face with small kisses. “I want that too–” 

“Glad we agree,” Nika replies and steals the rest of his sentence in a deep kiss. Artoirel’s hand wraps around Nika’s waist but Nika uses the leverage to drag him beneath him and settle on his hips. From this angle, he looks even better. A prim and proper lord, commander of men, count de Fortemps, beneath him, already hard, messy from kisses, and Nika can’t help but groan. It’s not like he’s any better himself. He then leans down and kisses him softly, the way he never got to kiss Minfilia. 

But she isn’t here, is she? It’s just him and Artoirel, alive, in the flesh. And it’s an aching flesh, and Nika wants to kiss it senseless, and he wants to keep him close, keep him warm, safe, wants to make him happy and make him laugh. 

“Artoirel,” Nika says, because he can’t say anything else. And Artoirel kisses him back, presses his hands against Nika’s back, and somehow, he feels like he got the message just fine. 

Just like that, the rest of the world falls away.

[ohdudedhesflirting]

How each member of ZB1 died

Note : Yunjin is not there as he is a child and I will never write for a minor. This is a piece of fiction only meant to be heartbreaking and sad. I do not want the members to know the same destiny as their fictionious personna. I am not glamorizing death. English is my second language. This is fiction !

Genre : Historical fictions. Just pain.

Warnings : death. Violent death. Blood. Knife. Fire. Drowning. Violence.

Please if you know that you are sensible to the topic of death do not read this.

Proceed with caution.

Kim Jiwoong : tortured to death (1801-1827)

Love, that’s what Kim Jiwoong died for.

He was the manservant of a powerful family and what a mistake that was to have fallen in love of their son.

Together they lived happily in the secret of their sheets, they talked about running to Scotland and finally live their love away from everyone, in the discreet countryhouse in a cottage. Yes thats what they wanted.

If only they had not being caught… In England the penalty for homosexuality was being hanged for the poor and decapitated for the rich. But the family of Seobin did not want for the word to get out, so they married him to a noble lady, hiding forever the secret behind closed doors.

What about Jiwoong ? They simply got rid of him.

Torturing him, making him suffer every atrocity that was possible before he took his last breath due to the pain he had been inflicted. Alone in a cold room lost away in the british countryside.

Zhang Hao : died at war (1899-1917)

The Great War. That was it was called on the batterfield, in the trenches.

Rain pouring down his face, Zhang Hao was thinking about his family, his home, is friends waiting for him. It had been since the beginning that Zhang Hao had been deployed, he had been lucky, he only had been injured lightly so far.

He had to say goodbye to some of his friends, some died at the battle, others died from their wounds. He was left alone, being at the head of so many people he could not count them on their fingers.

Another day, getting out of his little compartiment, saluting his soldiers, soon they would have to move, probably, doing an offensive and trying to win some meters in the ennemy side.

It was without counting on the germans, his helmet on his head, a deflagration resonated through his ears, a bomb had been deposated.

Fire, screams, dust.

The helmet had not been enough, the germans broke through their defense and without even understanding what was going on due to the rapidity of the offensive, a bullet was shot straight at his heart.

The man fell to his knees, in the mud. Putting a hand on his heart, he had one last look to the sky where he thought that at least he would get to meet his friends soon.

Sung Han Bin : stabbed by his best friend (1961-1982)

Loyalty and friendship had been the end of Han Bin.

Han Bin only really valued one thing in his life which was his friends, one of his bestfriend, Lee Hoatek, had a girlfriend and he was truly the happiest for the two of them.

Blinded by the friendhsip he felt for his bestfriend he did not understand when his girlfriend started to flirt with any him any chances she got. Han Bin only simply took that for friendship but his best friend had not been blind by that. He saw she way she looked at hiim and despised it.

Blinded by jealousy and by his own insecurities he never talked about it with Han Bin.

Until one final night, all together having a dinner, the girlfriend thought that Lee Hoatek was he in the kitchen and she played a move on it, on him. But the man saw and coming with the knife from the kitchen, looked at his girlfriend and best friend. And without a thought went to Han Bin and stabbed him.

The young man feel on the floor and with tears on his eyes he looked at his bestfriend, saying that he forgave him before taking his last breath.

Seok Matthew : died when he tried to save his wife from execution (1671-1693)

What Matthew loved the most in the world was his wife. They lived in a quiet village.. A quiet village until the first rumors of witchery came out.

The new came from Salem, it was one woman. Then, numbers kept on coming.

Both of the newlyweds thought they were safe, that those allegations would not come to their village, what they had not planned was from matthew’s wife of getting accused.

As so many other women, she had rejected the impropriate offer of a man, said man, a powerful one, in revenge he had taken the responsability to say that she was a witch and that she had to be burned.

Her trial had been quick without even a chance for her to defend herself, Matthew tried as well, in vain. They said that he too, had been seduced by the witch.

They had taken her to the public place of the village as well as two other woman, which had their own fire, as she was placed on her amount of wood before it was lighted up.

Matthew got his way out of the crowd, screaming pushing people out, trying to get to his wife, screaming her name at the top of his lungs.

The magistrate and his people went to him and they caught him but he was still pushing around. Without him even understanding he felt pain on his skull, someone punched him down. From the pain he fell on his knnes, feeling the warm blood on his neck, finally his face fell on the ground.

Matthew had his vision being blurred due to his own blood, he closed for the last time his eyes as he watched his wife being burned down, screaming in agony.

Kim Tae Rae : heart attack (1849-1869)

Kim Tae Rae was the kindest man on earth, the softest to have ever walked it.

His mom always had told him that he had a soft heart and that he had to take care of it, of himself.

It was a calm day for Tae Rae, an habitual one, waking up, taking his usual breakfast.

Taking his music sheets and installing himself before his piano forte before composing some songs. It was sudden the pain he felt in his chest that disturbed him.

Standing up he went fetch himself a cup of water. The pain kept being there, a part of him told him he should quickly leave and see a physician but the other part did not want to. He had to finish a piece for a play and it was urgent.

With his cup of wtaer the pain got tronger, he fell on the floor, holding his chest, breathing heavily. The pain kept getting stronger and finally he could not stand it anymore and finally closed his eyes.

Kim Gyuvin : death penalty (1950-1968)

Unlucky was the key word for Gyuvin.

Simply going home from his grocery shopping he saw a man getting stabbed in the street, he ran to him and made the agressor ran away before putting the knife in his hands. Running to the man on the floor he tried to make the blood stop but it was never stopping.

The police came and saw the tall man over the bloodied body. He was arrested and quickly had his trial, he defended himself, as best as he could, but the jury already had his opinion.

He was found guilty. His fate had been made, it would be the death penalty.

He waited for a few months before his exécution.

Gyuvin had been conducted to the electrocution room where he passed away.

Two months after it, the real agressor had been arrested and the evidence came on light : an innocent man had been executed.

Ricky : taken hostage and murdered (1979-1999)

Being the son of a billionaire had his perks. The money, the drinks, the houses. Ricky loved it, until he didn't. As he got taken hostage while he was out partying with his friends.

His eyes folded, hands behind his back, a tissue in his mouth to stop him from screaming.

His kidnappers wanted money, some millions, they were sure they would get it.

But Ricky's father did not move an inch, refusing to even give them one dollard. Pressure was getting stronger, money would never come...

They had to make a step, to get rid of him.

Sitting him on a chair, still folded, silent tears dripping on his face.

He heard the pulling from a gun, his breath was hatched, a deflagration resonated through the empty warehouse, he felt pain straight in his chest. Blood was falling from it. Coughing up blood, suffering, the kidnappers left him there before leaving in their car.

Ricky died alone, blidnfolded in a warehouse because his father did not love him enough to pay what they wanted.

Park Gunwook : drowned while saving a kid (1890-1907)

Gunwook was simply taking his way home from work.

A day at the factory, working and puttting stuff on shelves. Getting his salary to support his mom and siblings.

On the way home he went to the bakery, getting bread and treat for his family.

Happily going home, passing by the river, Gunwook heard a scream before seeing a kid being pushed down in the water accidentally by a person on his bike.

The kid didnt know how to swim, he was screaming for help, battling against the water. The water was stronger than him, the current of the water was too strong for him. Adults surrounding the scene called for help, for the police.

Gunwook did not wait a second before jumping down in the river swimming toward the kid, barely pulling him to the edge. One thing he did not plan was for the current to get stronger and to be stuck. Unable to swin back on the ground.

Battling against the water the last thing he saw was the kid being hugged by his mom. He wouldn’t be able to be hugged by his mom anymore.  

[mistresswriter19]

A Country Royal Date " Striker X Oc " Oneshot".

Requested by: @scarlattobrightstar

Striker was cleaning his blessing rifle yet another failed attempt to assassin a royal this really pissed him off because all he wants is to be the best and earn the money he earned. Striker sighed once again dusting himself and leaning against the stable as he saw a pretty sight of a purple imp with matching different shades of purple dress it made Striker blush but he immediately turned away as the purple imp tapped on his shoulder.

Ellie: Hi, I noticed that you were looking, may I help you?

Striker: Sorry Milady~ ( Proceeds to grab the purple imp's hand giving her a kiss )

Ellie: Oh my... ( Flushed )

Striker: Your really beautiful how come I don't see an imp like you around here

Ellie: Oh I'm from a castle in the royals, I haven't visit all the places in hell besides the Goetia's so I thought maybe take a nice stroll to the ring of wrath.

Striker: You're a royal..... ( Grits his teeth)

Ellie: Oh I'm so sorry if I offended you

Striker: No it's fine just didn't except to run into an royal... but your're really beautiful what's your name~

Ellie: Princess Ellie

Striker: Striker at your service doll~ ( Take his hat off and kneels )Your highness.

Ellie: Very flattering but you don't need to do that I'm like anyone else besides being royal can be kind of boring.

Striker: Maybe you need a little excitement in your life~

Ellie: Are you trying to ask me on a date?

Striker leans in more his lips getting close to her as Ellie blush but couldn't resit as she felt Striker's thumb press on her cheek as he goes in for a long passionate kiss~ Ellie eyes grew wide but she gives in and gives a few more kisses as they departed breathing heavy both turn their heads.

Ellie: I would love to

Striker: I'll call you~

The two wave to each other were preparing for the date. Striker decided to dress a little elegant he wear an casual black suit with an purple rose to present the purple princess imp Ellie he met. In the palace Ellie wears a white dress her arms and exposed, a few jewerls around her neck and a green emerald added and she added an yellow grrenish rose to present the rough in tough cowboy she met Striker. The two meet at an restruant and complimented each other as the waiter pours both of them red wine.

Ellie: I have a few questions for you.

Striker: Ya gonna interrogate me even when we about to get to know each other~ ( Smirks)

Ellie: It's nothing like that I just want to know more about " The Ring Of Wrath". also you

Taking another sip of wine Striker turns away trying to control his range Ellie notices as she places her hand on top of Striker showing comfort. She gives him a warm smile as Striker breathes in and out then turns to her.

Striker: You wouldn't want to go the place where I grew up doll.. it's definitely not meant for someone beautiful and innocent such as yourself they mostly call it " Dead Man's Land" in the west~ I have an dangerous job besides in wrath but other parts of hell I am all over. However I do have nice things, have a nice flaming horse bombproof , always been by my side. I play the guitar but mostly to myself but I did plan it at the harvest moon festival you shouldn't those fangirls screaming~

Ellie: You probaly have an majestic voice and play the strings that;s from your heart~

Striker eyes went the other way when those words " From your hart" more like " I'm the best and sweet victory ". Ellie and Striker eat their dinner and finished their wine glasses there was an garden where most couple do slow dances Striker held his hand to Ellie as she look back blushing really heavy or could it be the wine nope she really was crushing over Striker.

Striker: May I have this dance Princess Ellie~

Ellie: It would be a pleasure Striker~

The two held each other hand begining to slow dance around the garden with red and yellow green lanterns with roses and lily's blooming as the two twirl and Ellie lays her head around Strikers chest listening to his heart beat and Striker place his hand on her lower back rubbing her gently.

Ellie: Striker, I know we just meant a few hours ago and I don't know you fully but you have been the most respectful gentlemen imp I have ever meant.

Striker: Something you want to ask more about me ?

Ellie: It's just.... I like you, I really like you, I did noticed you around my palace and whevere I went I saw that you were doing your job which I clearly don't know... but I want to be with you. From my heart and soul I can't go on without you. I don't want to be with an royal imp I want to be with an lovely cowboy as yourself.

The two stop for a moment and tears drip down Ellie's eyes how she felt embarrassed and flushed how she really admit her feelings to Striker as he turn and face flushed and he held Ellie close calming her down.

Striker: Ellie a cowboy knows you were swooning over me~ I watch everything it's part of my job~ But you are a lovely princess are you really willing to end up with an dangerous man such as myself.

Ellie: Yes I'm willing up with someone dangerous I don't care your the only imp I need and love.

Striker: If you'll willing to do commit then I'll be honored to be the man in your life~ I do want you do be my cowgirl Ellie~

Ellie: You can be my prince charming~

Striker: Let's not get that carried away

Ellie: You'll always be my cowboy~

Striker: And you'll always be my princess

The two lean going in for another long passionate kiss holding each other committed to their lives Ellie and Striker story begins where they become the first couple that people don't heard of an wrath imp end up together with an royal some miracles do happen~

~End~

Thank you for your request hope you like it 😊

[genezpen]

『 neglect a queen 』

pairings: jay × afab!reader

genre: angst, fluff (ur girl is a sucker for)

warnings: first person pov(as always), drunk reader, mention of vodka, jealousy, kinda bratty reader, sweet call signs such as love, (hun)ey (idrk what to include lmk if i forgot to add sum)

word count: 1.6k+ words

notes: hi! i wrote this like last month then suddenly got tired of it so i left it unfinished and since i wanna get rid of my mental block, here it is! finished product in the house, babe lol pls enjoy reading and lmk what u think abt this. the first few scenes were actually my personal favourite ^·^ stay safe and love y'all~

“why did you drink so much? i told you to drink moderately, you barely even manage to drink five cups!” jay scolded me, but i’m so lightheaded to even care.

“stand straight or i’ll carry you right now!”

he knows i hate being carried like a baby. without a do, i immediately stood my ground holding his hand for my dear consciousness, with his other hand rested on my waist for support. anytime now i might passed out, i can’t even keep my eyelids open anymore.

i know i can’t handle alcohol like he can, at least, but i have no choice but to drink the pain away. for weeks, he’s been extremely busy, working so hard almost forgetting to stay at home. what’s funny is that he always have time to attend a night out with his bosses, be it for business or celebration, when he can’t even make plans with me. and all he said was he couldn't afford to miss it.

it’s not hard to tell that i’m jealous. with his work, yes. i want his attention more and more each passing day, and i can’t accept the fact that he can’t even tell earlier this morning!

“there’s a newly opened restaurant nearby, would you like to try it out later, hun? i reserved a seat for two people.” i smiled at him.

jay stopped at his track for a second then proceed to tying his necktie infront of the mirror.

“sorry, love, you know how busy i am lately. you can just bring your best friend, i won’t mind.” he utter fixing his hair.

i mind! i wanna scream so bad but as a mature girlfriend i am, i held back. resulting for me to drink with the girls instead of sulking in that fucking restaurant.

“who knows, he might be busy with something else other than his work?” i murmured pouring a vodka on my cup for the third time.

one of my friends gasp. “you can’t just say that! do you not trust your boyfriend? i’m pretty sure hardworking people only wants promotion so they won’t let themselves get distracted for a while. let’s understand them for now.”

“from experience?” another added, they clicked their glasses of wine.

“so, am i a distraction to him now? i can break-up with him right away, if only he told me so, you know?!” i know, i’m starting to lose control over my body– mouth right now. i need to stop drinking!

“oh no, you’re drunk. stop drinking or we’ll get scolded by your boyfriend!” my friend pointed at my other friend, “hey you, call jay immediately! oh gosh, this girl, really–”

i laughed maniacally. with hooded eyes, i lean against the front door when we reached our apartment then stare at jay. my forefinger touched the tip of his pointed nose, grinning without the teeth. i’m so drunk and sleepy, he held my waist so i won't fall.

jay stopped and stared at my current state like i’m hopeless.

“you...” suddenly, tears welled in the corner of my eyes as i remember the reason why i drank so much. i met his painful gaze, his pitiful eyes looking at me.

i want to him to kiss away the pain but can’t say it face to face because it’s embarrassing. or am i just too drunk?

“w-why did you even f-fetch me–” my voice hitched. i feel like a hand crushed my heart but it’s still beating loudly, so weird.

i gulp when his gaze turned intense.

“come again, y/n?” oh no. this isn’t good. he’s calling me by my name!

i smiled bitterly. instead of putting up a fight, i gave up immediately. i then lowered and shake my head.

“sorry...” almost a whisper escaped my lips. tears began to fall like rainfalls, my heart’s clenching so bad in agony.

you're so funny, y/n. the nerve to get mad at him then back down when he’s starting to get angry too. you’re literally hopeless. you’re pitiful.

those words stings too much i felt numb. maybe... i’m just too scared to disappoint him? is it bad to be conscious about how you make your partner feels? but then, how about him? did he really care about mine?

“come on, let’s get you change into comfortable clothes...” his voice instantly sounded calm, almost soothing this time.

i nodded weakly before letting him guide me inside.

“would you like to take a bath? i’ll help you...” jay handed me a glass of water once i was seated on a kitchen stool.

instead of answering him, i drink the water in one go. when i finished, he takes it out of my hold before putting it on the granite counter.

before i knew it, he was already squatting on the floor, leaning towards me. jay caress my cold palms carefully, still looking directly into my eyes, watching my lone expression.

“are you sober now?”

i nodded staring at the flat floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

“hmm. then are you alright? did something happened?” jay probed.

my lips twitched, “you have to rest now, jay. it’s late, you have to go to work early tomorrow morning...”

“i think the question is, are you alright, y/n?” he pulled my hands slightly making me glance at him. “you’re obviously not. can you tell me what exactly happened? did i do something that upset you? please, enlighten me, baby...” jay’s gentle caress against my knuckles makes me dizzy.

but then, even if i tell him what i feel or what is it all about, he still can’t do anything about it. work will always be his number one priority. it sucks, i know. but that's reality.

“you don’t have to worry about me. let’s prepare for bed immediately so you can rest, alright, love?” my cold palms made contact with his warm cheeks as i assure him it’s nothing serious.

he held it shaking his head and cage my hands in between his cheeks and palm.. “your eyes says otherwise, though. i won't let you sleep with a heavy heart, baby. it would only bother me as well. so please, enlighten me...” jay pressed a kiss on my fingers.

i rolled my eyes as my hands against his cheeks dropped, "fine! since you're so eager to know... it is your fault!" now i'm back to being the brat here.

jay only raised his brows. he slightly sighed in relief for an unknown reason. is he relief that i got out of my sulking but understanding girlfriend mode? well, let's see if he can handle a sulking brat!

"you're working too hard lately, i like that about you. but you rarely- no, you don't bring me to dates because of it so i also hate it!" i crossed my arms on my chest looking sideways with furrowed eyebrows.

he nodded slowly understanding why i am suddenly acting up. "hmm. is that it?"

my lips parted in shock. what does he mean by that? that whatever the reason why i'm sulking is just THAT?

"ha! are you serious? jay, you've been very busy that i had to sleep alone and wake up with you getting ready to leave the apartment for almost two weeks!. it's almost like i don't have a boyfriend anymore..."

it stunned him for a bit.

“you– did you really felt that?” now, he looks confuse as hell.

“but then again, i understand. i am a little bit immature,” i glared at him when i said that, “but i know how to handle my emotions now. you don't have to worry about me.” i pouted even tho i mean it. my feet fidgeting, drawing circles around the tiled floor.

jay shook his head then held my face close.

“no, no, love. thank you, for being honest about this matter. thank you for telling me how you truly feel. i don't want you to hold back if you feel like i am upsetting you unintentionally or even intentionally at that.”

our eyes met and i saw the longing that’s been hiding behind his chocolate brown eyes.

“i love it when you let me see through you. i love it when you bare your soul to me as i bare mine to you too. i want to know what you think of everything so you don’t have to keep all these to yourself. i promised to understand you all the time, didn't i?” jay caress my cheeks full of tears now.

i nodded, sniffing not breaking our eye contact.

“i’m sorry if i made you feel neglected, you know i would never do that– or i would never want that to happen. i’ll do my best to be better and treat you like a queen you are.”

i wrapped my arms around jay’s nape and buried my sobs on his neck. moments of silence enveloped us that only our heavy breathing can be heard. it wasn't uncomfortable unlike what i felt with other people, more like a peaceful silence. like a home.

“promise to take me to a romantic dinner date on the weekend?” my voice quivered when i tried to speak.

i heard him laugh a bit, hugging me back caressing my exposed arms.

“i’ll take you to wherever you like, tomorrow. i finally got promoted so i have an even more flexible schedule.” jay whispered and i felt my ears clapped!

“as you should! you should never neglect a queen ever again...”

jay laughed even more. “i apologize, my queen.” i smiled.

© genezpen

all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, plagiarize, repost to another platform/sites without my permission.

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[writtenjewels]

Incubus part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Jason could feel everyone's eyes on him as he dug into breakfast that morning. He ignored them, shoveling the food in his mouth. It was the same shit as always but he ate it like it was the best thing he ever tasted. Jason couldn't believe how hungry he was. When he finished, he glanced over at Nick's tray.

“You gonna finish that?” he asked.

“What the hell, man?” Nick shook his head, bewildered.

“I'm hungry,” Jason shrugged.

By now the tests were routine. Jason sat through them and then dutifully ran the treadmill while the CENTCOM people monitored his heart-rate. At any moment he expected one of them to pull him aside and confront him about last night, but they never did. What kind of powers did that infection give Salim, anyway?

After lunch Jason hit the showers. He was going to see Salim again tonight. The prospect excited him. It hurt to watch Salim walk away after all they went through in the temple and at the time Jason thought he would never see the man again. It probably wasn't smart to keep seeing him and risk CENTCOM finding Salim, but Jason didn't have the heart to send the man away again.

Thoughtlessly Jason's hand strayed between his legs. Last night was the best sex he ever had. All those years of repressing, of pushing down his true desire, it all came pouring out and he gave himself over to it. The way Salim looked at him-- like he was something valued and loved-- nearly choked him. He shuddered remembering the feel of Salim's sharp teeth in his neck and the inside of his thighs.

That hot, thick tongue had filled him so many times last night. The way it forked made it feel good inside him, brushing his prostrate over and over. Jason gasped and closed his hand firmly around his length. His legs had gone numb from being open for so long and eventually he lost the energy to do more than lay back while Salim's tongue thrust. Jason began to stroke himself thinking of it. That tongue had licked his shaft, too, the fork of it gliding along his slit and curling around the width of him.

“Fuck,” Jason cursed out loud. One hand held firm to his cock while the other drifted down to brush a finger between his ass cheeks. Salim had fucked him over and over and over-- but only with his tongue. Jason pushed a finger against the tight ring of muscles.

Jason? He froze, the tip of his finger so close to entering. Jason blinked and looked around but Salim wasn't there. Are you all right, my soul?

“Salim?” His body battled against sensations of relief and panic. “Are you here? They can't find you.”

I'm at home, my beloved. I sensed your need.

“Uh, I'm good, I'm good,” Jason assured him hurriedly. He let his finger slip away again. He wasn't going to let his horniness get Salim captured.

You're lying, my love. Your desire calls to me. I promised I would feed you.

“Yeah?” Jason huffed. “What about your desire? You didn't even whip your dick out last night!” There was silence for a few heartbeats.

Stay where you are. I'll be there soon.

“No!” Jason protested. Panicked images flew through his mind of CENTCOM finding Salim and running experiments on him. All because of Jason. “Salim, don't come here. I was just masturbating!” But he didn't hear a reply. Maybe if he got dressed quickly enough... First he had to take care of his erection. He reached to turn the water cold, hoping that would kill it.

“Jason, it's all right.” He turned and Salim was standing just outside the showers. He looked so normal in his shirt and jeans. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek. Salim's eyes raked slowly over Jason's body, making the marine tremble and his erection throb.

“You... you shouldn't be here,” Jason choked out.

“I had to answer your call,” Salim said with a shake of his head. “It's part of my nature now. Zain and I figured it out: I am an incubus, a creature who feeds off desire and sexual pleasure. But what's interesting is I can't even taste anyone's desire but yours.”

Jason heard the words but couldn't really process them. He was locked in Salim's gaze, his body aching for those lips to press against his skin, those teeth to sink into his flesh, that body to be against his. Salim's eyes grew darker and he stepped into the shower room. Each step seemed restrained and Jason trembled imagining what it would be like if Salim let himself go.

“I sensed you,” Salim went on, “all the way from my house. I was in the garden and I could feel your desire. You needed me, so I came.”

“I need you to be safe, syfi,” Jason argued weakly. He didn't know how he knew that word, but he somehow understood the meaning: my sword. “It's the middle of the fuckin' day,” Jason persisted. “They'll see you. I can't let them.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Jason admitted. He couldn't bring himself to lie to Salim's face. “But I don't want them to capture you, either.”

“They won't.” Salim was now close enough to rest his hands on Jason's hips. The marine was panting hard, gritting his teeth against the ache in his erection. “A curious thing about my powers, rohi, is that I can control certain things that would prevent me from feeding. We won't be interrupted.”

“Salim...” He was losing this fight. Salim's fingers grazed along his hips, skimming his ass and brushing between his thighs. “What... what are those words you call me?”

“My soul,” Salim interpreted. He pressed a kiss to Jason's throat, hands going back up to Jason's ass. “My beloved,” he went on, slipping a finger between the cheeks. “My love.” The tip of a finger pushed into Jason's entrance. Jason's body buzzed and he clawed at Salim's clothes dazedly.

Fuck me, fuck me, please, fuck I need your cock, need you, bite me, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jason found himself being forced to his knees. Salim's hands grabbed his thighs, spreading his legs apart.

“Forgive me, Jason,” Salim was saying between kisses to Jason's neck and shoulders. “I was careful not to leave marks behind thinking it would protect you. But I see now it only hurt you not to have some proof I was here.”

“Please,” Jason whined out. He felt teeth sink in and whimpered. This time Salim didn't lick the bite, instead moving on to leave more teeth marks in Jason's flesh. My soul, my beloved, my love, my sword. Mine, mine, mine. “I love you,” Jason confessed. “I fell in love in that temple.”

“I love you too, Jason,” Salim returned. His finger was pushing in deeper. His other hand ran up Jason's body, fingers pinching his nipple. “The parasite that infected me sensed this and tried to kill it. I think I would have become a monster.”

“You're not... fuck.” Jason twitched as Salim spread him wider with two fingers. “You're mine,” he insisted. “Not the parasite's.”

“Yes, direi, I am,” Salim agreed. He rubbed and tweaked each of Jason's nipples in turn, his fingers pumping steadily. A third was pressed in and Jason groaned. His heart beat faster anticipating the stretch when Salim used his cock. “You rescue me over and over again, direi.” Salim kissed his cheek, Jason turning to greedily take his mouth. “I love you,” Salim purred.

“I love you,” Jason echoed. He already forgot where he was and the possible danger. He felt completely safe with Salim. Jason grunted as the fingers slipped out of him, only to groan as they were replaced by the girth of Salim's cock. His eyes fluttered as the length slowly eased inside him, finally coming to rest. Jason's nerves were on fire and he gasped for breath, adjusting to the sensation.

“I think it's my turn to rescue you, rohi,” Salim decided. His hand drifted down to wrap around Jason's cock. “I won't let them keep you here any longer.”

“H-how...?” That was all Jason managed. Salim started stroking him and rocking against him at the same time. Jason couldn't form words anymore.

“I kill vampires. Do you think I'm afraid of these people?” Salim's breath was hot against his ear. Jason could feel the gentle slap of skin on skin as his lover thrust against him. Just imagining Salim tearing through the CENTCOM guys like he did the vampires got Jason excited. Salim chuckled and bit him gently on the shoulder. “That arouses you, hayati?”

“How... d'you think... I fell for you?” Jason panted back. Faster, fuck me harder, bite me, make me yours, my sword, mine, fuck me, fuck me. Salim moved against him in response, teeth scraping Jason's jaw and fingers twisting his nipples.

“Insatiable,” Salim gasped. “Were you like this before? Did you think of me fucking you down there in the dark?”

“Yep.” There was no point in lying about it. Not when Salim could feel Jason's lust. “When you... killed that first... vampire. Wanted to... suck your dick.”

“Oh?” Salim angled his hips and thrust harder, faster, striking against Jason's prostrate. The marine howled as white spots burst in his vision. “I wanted you to fuck me when I saw you running to save me. Watching you fight arouses me too, hayati.”

“You... wanted me to....?” Jason blinked dazedly.

“I wanted you to bend me over that alien console and fuck me,” Salim hissed in his ear. Jason shuddered at the vivid image that popped in his head. Fuck, he was so close. “Go ahead and cum, Jason,” Salim coaxed him.

Jason was happy to comply, and even happier that his orgasm didn't stop Salim from pounding into him. Holy shit, was it always going to be like this now? Both of them feeding off each other's desires? Jason wasn't even infected and he was being stuffed-- both literally and figuratively. He couldn't imagine what this must feel like for Salim.

“Still so hungry,” Salim moaned, and Jason knew he meant both of them. “I'm getting you out of here now.”

Jason let out a little grunt in answer. He hoped this would never stop, that he and Salim would always be this hungry for each other. Even if the infection was somehow cured, he never wanted to stop feeding.

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author’s note: hello my dears! Sorry for not updating the past few days. I travel a lot for work and the circumstances lately made it difficult for me to update as much as I wanted. Although I did get enough inspiration to write this chapter. I come back to you with some juicy lemony goodness ;)

Minors DNI

Warning: NSFW content, mildly non con at the beginning, emotional sex, hurt, comfort and angst.

X.

Blinding jealousy was the only thing that could describe how Satoru felt. Boiling in his blood, licking flames of rage through his body.

Betrayal… his best friend, holding his wife’s hand as he walked her back home. Not only that! Suguru went in with YOU! In your apartment! As if this was the most normal thing in the world!

Did you invite him to stay the night? Did you both plan this ahead of time?

Warping to the top of the building next to yours he continued to watch from his position as you turned on the lights in your apartment. Setting your bag on the counter, taking off your shoes and jacket. Suguru followed you in taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen after you.

Gojo saw you both laughing and talking like you always did. You were at ease, immersed in your own world… completely forgetting about Satoru.

Did the kiss from last night mean nothing to you?

“What the fuck is going on?!” He groaned removing his blindfold; now fully observing and analyzing every single detail of what you two were doing using his six eyes.

Gojo didn’t want to miss a thing.

He focused on you, your reactions, the way you smiled, the way you acted, your heartbeat, the tone of your voice and… that bright and warm halo of happiness surrounding you while in Suguru’s presence; the same halo that last night was cold for Satoru. All of your smiles, all of your warmth and kindness were dedicated to Suguru.

Satoru’s frayed nerves and chaotic mind debated wether he should warp there and steal you away (… of course then proceed to fuck your into oblivion, fill you with his cum to the brim until you knew there was no other man for you other than your husband) OR keep watching and see how far you would go.

As angry as he was right then, he had to remind himself that Suguru and you had always been very close. It wasn’t uncommon for Geto fo visit you and have dinner with you to keep you company whenever Satoru wasn’t around due to his work or even have dinner together all three of you. This wasn’t ‘abnormal’ per say. The difference was that NOW you ‘thought’ you were not Satoru’s anymore (the operational word being ‘thought’)Geto’s presence never bothered him before… until now.

Taking a deep breath Satoru saw you walking towards your bedroom. His hands trembled in anticipation.

Were you going to sleep with Suguru?

He walked along the edge of his rooftop following your movements inside until you stopped in front of your room. Suguru moved closer to you and Satoru almost snapped. Lifting his hand to use his cursed technic against his best friend he saw how you both hugged and after you placed a kiss on his cheek you bid him goodnight. You pulled back and Satoru sighed in relieve but then Suguru was the one that leaned in and kissed your lips. Satoru was as shocked as you were but you managed to recover faster than he did since you returned Suguru’s embrace for what felt like an eternity. Finally when you separated, Geto and you exchanged a couple words and after another hug he walked out of your room closing the door behind him.

Satoru’s eyes had been open like saucers while the exchange took place, he released a breath he didn’t know have been holding. He saw you turn around and touch your lips with a blush on your cheeks.

He lost his fucking mind right then.

-

After coming back home Suguru and you talked about the latest shows you were watching and the movies you wanted to watch so you could catch up. A couple jokes about your gory tastes in movies and series after and you were both ready to turn in for the day.

“So! You wanna do a ‘The Walking Dead’ marathon?” You asked with a smirk “sure doll, we can do that tomorrow. You have the morning free right?” Asked Suguru. Sunday mornings were your ‘me’ time since your instructor didn’t work on Sundays “yes I do!” You answered with a big grin. You felt like a kid and the sensation filled you with happiness.

Now that Suguru was here you felt so different, as if you had been numb but now you could feel again.

A yawn cut your next sentence making Suguru chuckle “come on sleepy head, you and I are both whipped” you complied with a sleepy smile and walked down the hall.

Geto stopped in front of your room and gave you one of his characteristic big bear hugs. He was so tall and muscular, you felt surrounded by warmth and muscles everywhere. The fresh and crisp scent of his citrus cologne and detergent made your stomach do a little flip. The intimacy and trust you felt with him reminded you that you were not alone.

It had been easy to bury yourself physically and emotionally in your work but now that Suguru was with you, it reminded you that despite of how tough things got, you would always count on him.

Reluctantly you both pulled back, his Adam’s apple at eye level with you made you swallow. When you looked back into his eyes you found his trailing on your lips before they moved up to meet your e/c eyes.

There was a growing tension between the two of you, too strong and obvious to ignore.

Before, when you were with Satoru; Geto and you had ignored it but now there was nothing stopping either of you from acknowledging it. Sooner than anticipated your lips connected in a tender kiss. He was soft and kind, not demanding. He just wanted to comfort you but also let you know he wanted you, all in his sweet particular way.

You returned the kiss. It was inviting like a balm, it didn’t mean to mark and conquer but to soothe. His plump lips still tasted of wine. It made your mouth avid to taste more.

When you pulled away a blush covered your cheeks “good night Kitten” Suguru tells you with his deep baritone making a very pleasant tingling sensation run down your spine “good night Sugu” only then Geto leaves to go to his room across from yours.

The door closes behind you, all you can hear is your heart hammering away from within, you actually….enjoyed that kiss. It was so sweet, so tender… so soothing. Everything that Suguru was to you was poured in that single action. Touching your lips you start debating whether this was something good or something you should wait before pursuing.

Satoru didn’t sign your divorce, technically you were still married. Suguru didn’t deserve a half assed relationship with someone who doesn’t have her shit together.

You were still healing it was true, but… when Suguru kissed you, it made you feel safe…. Like you could let go and trust him.

Feeling guilty about it, you compared it to Satoru’s kiss from last night. It was impossible to deny there was still passion between you your husband and yourself. But then again physical intimacy was never the problem in your former relationship.

The thrill of the danger, of knowing nothing good would come out of it and despite it all your stubborn desire to immerse yourself in the ocean that was Gojo Satoru. Was what terrified you.

No… you couldn’t think about him that way. Not anymore.

With a sigh you decided it was time for bed. You turned around to head to the bathroom but your body connected with something hard and warm. Looking up you saw Satoru’s crystal blue eyes but before you could scream he covered your mouth with one hand while wrapping the other one around your waist. “Oh no no no no my love… none of that, we are not going to alert sweet Suguru about me, princess” the smirk that pulled at his lips made you shiver, it was predatory… maniac even.

Before your senses could register the change in the atmosphere you were warped away with Satoru. You screamed, but it was too late, you were not in your home anymore.

The lavish interiors of an elegant dim lit suite received you “what the fuck are you doing!?” You asked when he let you go, taking a step back breathing heavily “are you insane!?” You asked the white haired sorcerer who in answer only moved closer to you. The more you tried to get away the closer he got, until you were trapped between the wall and his towering 6’4 frame.

—

“Now princess…. Just what were you and Suguru doing?hmm?” He asked with a terrifying grin that poorly attempted to disguise his anger. Moving his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing of your concern!” You answered glaring at him, had he been spying on you? You tried to drop your body against the wall to escape from him but before you moved further than an inch down Satoru completely crushed your body with his “I am not done talking to you yet… my wife” he remarked making you ball your hands in fists. It annoyed and revolted you how he tried to use your ‘unfortunate’ marital status for leverage “I am your wife only on the paper… I don’t care what you think or say!” Satoru didn’t like your answer but his grin only broadened; grabbing your wrists and placing them on top of your head he held them with one of his large hands of dexterous fingers “you are right….” He started, giving you false hope “maybe it is time I remind you of your marital duties” your eyes opened wide but before you could attempt anything he kissed you. Fierce lips and teeth demanded your submission… this wasn’t a tender request… it was a display of dominance and possession.

You bit his lip trying to make him stop but Satoru took that as an invitation to grow bolder. His hand moved to your ‘V’ cut long sleeve top and ripped it right in the middle making you gasp; giving him the perfect opportunity to plunge his tongue in your mouth and intensify the kiss tenfold.

His free hand moved to your left breast squeezing the globe of warm flesh underneath. Groaning against your lips on approval, Satoru moved both his hands to your hips and using his inhuman strength he carried you across the room faster than you could tell and then threw you on the bed.

“Satoru… don’t do this! Are you mad?!” You asked in a trembling tone while scooting backwards on the bed in a miserable attempt at escaping him.

“Yes! I am! As a matter of fact… you are a good part of the reason why I am insane!” Grabbing one of your ankles he pulled you closer to him. Spreading your legs he laid on top of your body, giving you no chance to escape “SATORU STOP PLEASE!” You screamed but Satoru only focused on destroying the fabric of your jeans. He wanted all the obstacles between you to be gone! He wanted your clothes, your pain and Geto to be gone! So he could have you all to himself.

You tried to kick him but when you are struggling with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his generation there was absolutely nothing your body could accomplish without his approval.

A part of yourself hated the fact that you were just as revolted as aroused at the moment. Was that combination even possible? On one hand you felt dirty because your husband was trying to force himself on you out of jealousy…. But on the other part… the dark and twisted one… you were aroused by his display of pure male dominance, by his suffocating desire to have you and only you.

It was hard to fight so many years of habit, of fantastic chemistry… of love.

You would have to be blind or stupid not to see that your husband had been obsessing over you since you left but….

What good could come out of it?

If you both gave into your primal desires and fucked each other’s brains out. Would that change anything about your broken and unhealthy marriage?

His hot mouth moved to your neck to nibble and suck on that spot right bellow your earlobe that he loved to abuse. A big bruising mark was left in place, but he wasn’t content with just that. He wanted to leave the brand of his desire painted on your skin, like a beacon for him and a warning for others.

As the minutes went by his attentions became less frantic, instead they turned more purposeful and tender.

You stopped moving altogether, not fighting him nor corresponding his affections and careful treatment of your body.

https://youtu.be/qfFOzQVKuMs

Satoru pulled back for a moment to see you…. Only then it hit him like a train.

What the fuck was he doing? He looked at you and saw the tear trails that dried on your cheeks. Your top ripped in half displaying the soft skin of your breasts only covered by a bra.

“Y/N…” he whispered looking into your eyes. He caressed your cheek “I’m sorry… love” he mumbled trembling. “I’m so sorry…” a sob broke through his lips.

Did he…..? Did he…. almost forced you to have sex with him? How far had he gone in his endeavor to get you back by any means necessary? The notion that he almost…. Raped his wife made him sick.

He cried like a child. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your naked stomach; kneeling on the floor before the bed he crumbled to pieces. Repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He was horrified with himself; he had done many questionable things in his life but this… took the cake. It made him a piece of shit! He didn’t deserve you! You were too good for someone as tainted as him. The dread that revelation brought made him cry harder.

He realized his obsession had been a result of the fear he was unwilling to admit having. The terror that made his insides coil. The absolute horror of losing yet another person he loved.

The fear of loosing you.

He had always been alone since he was a child. Satoru didn’t share much of his past with you but the few things you knew was that he had become an orphan at a very young age. He had to mature rapidly to overcome the obstacles of being a kid with so much power in the middle of a corrupt and outdated world of magic and intrigue.

Gojo always felt lonely, despite of how much he liked to mess around with people and play pranks on everyone. But you… had been one of the very few who got to see through his perfectly built facade and tell him the truth.

The night he told you he loved you was after you decided to stay with him in his apartment. He didn’t say or do anything particularly obvious but you somehow knew he didn’t want to be alone. He kept trying to fill the space with playful banter but you shut him up by hugging him and holding him tightly saying he didn’t have to explain anything all. That you would always be there for him, no matter what. It had been on the anniversary of the death of his parents.

Somehow, your empathetic and loving nature blindly guided you to stay with him and allow THE Gojo Satoru to be just…. human in your arms.

-

As much as you wanted to hate him and resent him, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your heart ache for him. Unable to stop yourself you caressed his platinum locks while he held onto you and cried begging for your forgiveness over and over again.

When Satoru calmed down he removed his head from your lap slowly, you have been crying along with him. Your fates leaded you both exactly where you were at. Every decision and mistake carved this painful path you walked now.

Looking into your eyes he moved closer as if he was afraid to scare you away, his face stopped just an inch away from yours, giving you the chance to reject his advances but instead of doing that you closed the distance that separated you both. You lips met and melted together in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, making him moan recognizing the intimate and passionate gesture he had missed for so long. He laid you back down again, climbing on top of you. His hands moving down to your waist in an attempt to feel you as close as possible, as if you were going to disappear in any moment.

Your legs wrapped around his waist when your tongues laced together and caressed each other; moans and sighs left your lips, filling Satoru’s ears and making his hands wander over the expanse of exposed skin.

Making him stand before you and between your legs his long sleeved black shirt was removed quickly, your admired his perfectly sculpted pale torso, this man has always been so… perfect; as if the gods themselves had decided to carve every inch of his person. Although, he did look skinnier, you knew he had not been really taking care of himself. The sight send a pang of pain to your heart. “Toru….” A little painful whisper abandoned your lips when you pulled him closer. Your mouth left a small path of kisses from his neck to the center of his chest, he gasped at the sweet and soothing action. Once more, your tenderness reminded him that he did not deserve you and yet he couldn’t come to make himself stop you. He needed you more than air to live.

Avid hands moved south of his stomach to undo his jeans and pull them down; a very vague part of your brain registered that you were now willingly doing this. Should you stop? Next to go were his boxers. He was standing naked in front of you.

His hardened cock stood between his legs with a small dribble of precum rolling down the reddened head.

He was an Adonis.

Looking into his eyes you saw the loving gaze laced with guilt in his cerulean orbs. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to.

He then helped you lay down to return the favor. His mouth kissed its way to the center of your breasts while his right hand undid your bra behind. Taking off the remains of your destroyed top along with your bra, next were the flimsy black lace panties that he rolled down your legs until you were fully naked before his eyes.

He was left speechless “you are so beautiful…” a goddess laid naked on his bed, with her inviting lips, glorious s/c skin, a halo of darker h/c hair around your head, perfect breasts and a pair of delectably shaped legs that he wanted wrapped around him.

How did he ever dare cheat on you? Not only your body was beautiful to him but your heart, you knew no boundaries when it came down to loving someone. You had given him everything and then some.

Kneeling before you he grabbed one of your legs and left kisses from the calf to the inner thigh. Placing it carefully over his shoulder he stopped for a moment to look in your eyes before his mouth delved between your thighs. He found your sweet pussy already wet and waiting for him to lavish his attentions. Like a starved man he licked your pussy, consuming everything you had to offer him. Your flavor coating his tongue made his stomach tight in delight, he recognized the addictive sweetness of your scent. Parting your lips with his tongue he penetrated your entrance with his tongue, going straight to the source. You screamed and he had to hold your hips so you wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t let you go! Not now! Not ever!

Once he was satisfied he replaced his tongue with his fingers, pumping two digits in and out of your soaking entrance. His tongue looked for your clit and swirled around it, sucking at times and flicking at others. His reward were your screams, moans and sighs of pleasure. They were only for him and no one else.

“T… Toru… I’m gonna come”

“Come for me princess, give me all of you my love” Satoru asked quickly before his mouth returned to your slit and his thumb took care of the bundle of nerves at the top.

You screamed, arching your back when your orgasm washed over your body and completely overwhelmed your senses. Taking his time to taste and swallow your juices Satoru finally emerged from between your legs. Your eyes darkened with a desired that matched his.

Your arms inviting him to come closer encouraged him to lay on top of you after wiping his chin with his hands. Long legs surrounded his waist while you looked in each other’s eyes. “I love you…” he said at the same time he slid his cock inside you, slowly until he was fully sheathed and his balls slapped your ass, making you scream his name.

Satoru was not a small man by any means, taking all of his impressive length at once would have been impossible had he not prepared you beforehand. He knew it, so he moved slowly at the beginning, allowing you some time to adjust while he whispered sweet nothings on your ear.

The moment your legs pulled him closer and deeper he knew you were ready. Without a word he rocked his hips, retracting all the way until only the tip was left inside before he went all the way back in making you body jolt.

The rhythm was slow and purposeful at the beginning but as the minutes went by, the both of you became hungrier, more demanding, more… needy. Your hips met his thrust by thrust. The slapping of your skins intensified as did the moans.

Your tight and hot walls squeezed his cock so deliciously the man was having a tough time not behaving like an animal and rutting you through the mattress like a beast in heat. He wanted to show you he loved you.

He held both your hands in his, pushing them against the bed at both sides of your head. Looking into your eyes he moved deeper “I love you…” he said again and you couldn’t help but feel how the tears escaped your eyes “I love you too…” you admitted in a tiny voice that could barely be considered a whisper.

Satoru eliminated the distance between you both and kissed you, pouring his heart in that action. Your climax was close, he knew this so he angled his hips to continue pummeling your sweet spot while he drove you over the edge.

You came around his thick cock, your walls tightening around his member as if they never wanted go let go “I’m gonna come princess” he moaned and then with a few hard thrusts he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

Your worn out, sweaty bodies stayed still. Trying to recover. Satoru refused to remove himself from inside you.. Not yet, he wanted to savor this moment, the intimacy and the love he felt.

You didn’t protest, instead you did what you used to do back when you both were still together. Cradling his head between your breasts you stroked his hair, lulling you both to sleep.

Your last coherent though before sleep claimed you being… That once again… you fell for it.

Guilt settled in.

————-> Chapter 11

-

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[ncitygirls]

belong - chan x f reader

fluff, smut, 2.8k

when your lover called on you, the bells in your heart rung. chan invited you to his home for an evening spent together in the sweet peace of the one another’s company. upon your arrival, he greeted you with pure admiration in his eyes, a youthful wonderment sweeping over him as he gazed upon your person, pulling you into his embrace where you belong.

he took your hand, dusting his lips across your knuckles as he whispered, “i missed you, love.”

“and i you.” it’s not often you admit that time spent away from chan adds painfully to your longing, this much is evidenced by his wide eyed surprise. “i have spent every second counting down until we would meet again.”

“oh?” he gasps, believing not a word. “maybe hypnos might finally stop by now that you have come.”

“maybe breath will finally enter my lungs! and food settle in my stomach!”

“my love, if we are of such detriment to ourselves when apart,” he mumbles against your lips as he captures them sweetly. “then perhaps we mustn’t part again.”

“not ever?”

“not ever,” and so, with your indefinite union confirmed, chan ushers you into his home. you quickly note the sheet music that customarily garnishes every corner of the black oak table is now stacked neatly to the side. in their place are gold lined porcelain dinner plates, and sat atop them are a meal you know your lover did not prepare. “i know what you are readying yourself to say, so i feel i must confess something.”

“please do.”

“the lees did assist me with the preparation of this meal,” he lies as you turn to him. “you do not believe me? my love, i take great offence.”

“one can only find offence in the truth, chan.”

“fine,” he sighs, kindly untucking your seat. “the lees prepared the meal.” his confession is rewarded with the softest kiss to his dimpled cheek, deepening the indent greatly. “but i did prepare the table!”

“and had you not, the meal would not look half as inviting,” your praise, though clearly meant in jest, still colours the tips of his ears.

“lest you plan for my head to swell to twice its size, i suggest you stop.”

you press your hand to his cheek, the soft skin warming your palm as you turn his face towards you. “surely that is just more of you to love, is it not?”

“goodness. u are like a god sent spring during drought! love just pours from you. surely i am not this worthy,” he ponders aloud. he rests his forehead on yours, settling his eyes on your lips, he trains his pounding heart to beat in time with your breathless chortles. “what did I do to deserve you?”

as you shrug, you lean up, capturing his lips with yours, offering up the most delicate of pecks. the motion is dizzying, and the pace moreso. his fingers grip your side almost painfully, his wandering thumb finding the skin of your hip, drawing the tiniest circles. your tongue finally slips between his teeth before he pulls away. “the lees would not be happy to learn how we have treated their meal.”

“that you plated,” you remind, squeezing his arms in want. “and a plated meal can be reheated. hell, a plated meal can be unplated!”

“is this a want or a need?” chan suddenly asks, watching your teeth catch your lip. raising his thumb once dragging along the band of your knickers, he tugs at the trapped lip, freeing it from restraint. “i asked you a question.”

“it’s a want,” you admit shamefully, your hunger amplified with another whiff of the cooling dinner.

“a want can wait.” without another word, chan releases you, waiting patiently so he can tuck your seat in. once you are seated, he tucks himself in at the table’s head, reaching for your hand to his right. “go ahead, angel.”

you can only nod as you reach for your polished fork before scooping up the braised pork and buttered mash. he grins as you moan, the sound oddly innocent as you slowly begin to regain your appetite. he frees your hand as you reach for your knife, settling it instead on your knee, squeezing before he attacks his meal. as you make your own ways through dinner, you settle into a comfortable silence, both happily welcoming any intermittent interruptions. he speaks in part of his long work week spent apart from you, you speak in part of the gruelling work week spent apart from him. you both speak of family, sharing thoughtless yet meaningful tidings. you speak of friends, of gossip and news as he updates you on the lees’ plans to finally go into business together.

“how does hyunjin feel about it? he, minho and felix, were they not in talks about a dance company?” you speak with your lips perched on the rim of your glass, never forgetting a detail chan offers up. and though this at times works to his detriment, he cannot help but smile as he nods, gleeful at your continued interest in his companions.

“hyunjin wishes them well. of course he sulked for days, but he sees their passion and respects their wishes.” chan watches as you nod, acquainted well enough with the man to understand. “but he expects shares.”

“as he should!’ you punctuate your point with a final stab at your dinner, chewing the cooling carrot far too aggressively for how well it had been prepared.

“must everyone be compensated for broken promises?” he asks, reaching for your cleared dinner plate. “that hardly seems just.”

“is that not the very underpinnings of law?”

“so that makes it just?” he asks, returning to his seat with wine before pulling you onto his lap.

“well,” you start, grabbing your glass and straddling your lover. “it depends who is profiting.”

“consider this,” placing his wine down, he rests his open hands on your thighs, “when i make you mrs. bang—”

“when?”

“yes, when,” he emphasises with a sweet kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder, trailing his nose up the column of your neck. “should you change your mind, must i hold you accountable?”

“i would never change my mind,” you state, rendering his analogy futile. “being mrs. bang would be the honour of a lifetime.”

“you are insufferable,” he breathes, his warming forehead pressed to your shoulder. “for the sake of my analogy, say that were not the case. say being mrs bang was unliveable, the biggest regret of one’s life. should you be accountable for leaving?”

“annulment is a fickle thing, chan. there are so many other factors involved.” you predict the question on his tongue, so you proceed to list them. “wealth, health, kin, religion, intimacy—”

“we won’t have that problem.”

“we won’t have any of those problems,” you correct. “will we, mr bang?”

“no,’ he agrees, pulling your frame further up his lap, “none.” there’s a pause where he regards you with an insurmountable confusion, as if regarding you for the first time again. “you never did tell me what I did to deserve you?”

“it isn’t for me to tell,” and therein lies his issue, his desperation to remedy his thanklessness, to express his unyielding gratitude for the blessing that is his lover. if he knew what he did, then he might know what to keep doing. “just enjoy me.”

“i intend to do just that,” he breathes against your skin, lips dragging along the bone of your jaw.

it is impossible not to squirm. his touch is at the best of times manageable, yet at the worst, insufferable. his fingernails press moons into your neck and thigh, firming his grip on your nape and dragging your hips down onto his crotch. the friction is hot and reeling, the slide of his cock along your clothed folds, slowly milking him whilst displaying his restraint. you detest his chosen pace, it is all the things you simultaneously love and loathe about your partner. his mature approach to love making and his need to drag out every moment beyond what is absolutely necessary. you begin setting your own pace, digging your heels into the ground as you roll against his length. the pleasure is short lived.

“it would serve you well to hold still,” he pours into your mouth, the beginnings of a smirk tainting even the purest parts of his face. he makes it increasingly difficult to follow his generous warning, as he frees your neck and grabs the table for leverage, dragging his groin against you, readily instigating your demise. “i can be fair, y/n. just tell me what it is you desire?”

“you, chan.”

“but you have all of me,” he reminds, guiding your hand to the warm space between you, tightening your grip around his heavy length. “all of me is yours, so speak plainly.”

“i want you to—“ he lets a single digit pass between your clothed folds, soaking the fabric and the pad of his finger. your eyes slowly follow his movements, the lone finger sucked into the warmth of his mouth. “chan, please.”

“how can you beg for that which you have not asked?”

“fuck me.” he reels at your embarrassment, the warmth on your cheeks warming his neck as you burrow out of view. “please,” your breathy plea fills the shell of his ear as you drag yourself along his lap. “is that not the reason you asked me here?”

his laughter fills the air as he kicks out his chair, your combined weight tugging at the carpet. “not entirely,” he admits candidly, lifting you both in a swift motion. “i do enjoy time spent in your company.”

“well, of course,” you agree, clinging to him as he moves through his home, covering more ground with every kiss he offers to your neck. “but my company can allow for a multitude of activities.”

“a multitude you say?” he places you gently atop his sheets, your weight forcing a sensual warm oak to waft through the room. his hands settle firmly by your head, his elbows collapsing to barely rest his weight on you, eliminating any and all space. his gleaming eyes bore into your own, the tip of his nose gliding along the bridge of your own. “you mightn’t believe it, but I am a simple man. i am happy to settle for one.”

“and which one might that be?”

his head lolls dumbly from left to right, allowing but a second to pass before he gives you his answer. rows of pearl capture his lip as he lowers himself, slow sensual grinds of his hips reveal his thoughts like no words could. his hooded eyes drink the creases in your face, the waves of pleasure coursing through you as he passes between your folds. the air thickens tenfold, your pants fanning his lips as you succumb to the movements of your lover.

“chan—“ your whine draws a devious grin on his face. you feel his palm rest on your cheek, his thumb running along your jaw down to your chin where he tugs, no words nor force required to tell you what he wants.

“may i?” he breathes into your mouth, tongue rolling in his own, collecting what you unknowingly crave. you nod once, leaning up to meet his lips as he leans back. the saliva gathered on his tongue slowly passes from between his lips into your open mouth. his eyes follow the string that connects you both as you swallow, your breath faltering as his eyes drag up to gaze at you. the hunger you’re met with would force your knees together, only his own keep them apart. “i’m going to give you what you want now,” he promises, fingers tugging at your panties. “and I know you can take it,” he affirms as he slides a finger in you, grinning as you whine. “i just need to make sure.”

he pumps his finger slowly, dragging the pad languidly against your walls, his thumb circling your clit. be laughs at the tremble in your thighs, how little restraint you have always exhibited. it has always been this way. your neediness bursting through the seams, rendering his own restraint powerless. especially as your fingers toy with his waistband, fist closing around his leaking tip. your palm rolls against his slit, the heel gathering his precum as you slide against his tip. he struggles with his weight over you, his forehead pressed to your own as he winds his length between your closed fist. his lips suck on your tongue, teeth clashing, when he feels a familiar ripple of heat pass through his veins.

“baby,” he huffs, stills his hips and his fingers. “is this what you want?”

“no,” you whine, humping against his hand and pumping him all the same. “but it is you i want,” you pant, chasing a high you know your lover will never give you. “it’s you i need.”

at that he pulls your hand from him, ready to fulfil his duty as your love, to give you all the things you want and need. he shows no haste removing his clothes, buckle hitting the floor, trousers and undergarments gently kicked down his legs. he takes a modicum of time on you however. his hands glide down your sides as he frees you of your sticky underwear, hiking up your skirt as he pumps his cock. lining himself up with your slit, he gazes down at you, his doting expression in stark contrast with his bare form.

“i love you, angel,” he breathes, eyes shining as he pecks at your cheek, nose, lips.

“and i you,” you breathe in kind, choking up as he sheathes himself within your walls. he sighs as you take him, your hot folds sucking him in as he slips his tongue between your lips, swallowing your whimpers. as he bottoms out he pulls away, watching your eyes gleam in want before he snaps his hips, denouncing all fatigue. “oh, chan—”

he grunts as his name falls off your tongue, your mind and body at a loss for thoughts besides those of your lover. as he pounds into you, his tip hitting your g-spot perfectly, forcing your mouth open. unintelligible moans fill the air, though he hears you calling out for him. for the most part, he hears your lustful grumbles of inexplicable pleasure. he needn’t decipher them, nor does he try. he just basks in them, his groans falling into your open mouth, the odd praise passing between your lips as does his tongue, his spit, his praise, his tongue, his spit. he uses you, as you so wish. he fucks harder into you as you fall further into delirium, pleasure rippling through you with every snap of his hips. he watches you gasp for air, gulping around his saliva, watery eyes pleading for him.

“tell me what you want.”

“i want to cum,” you whine, clinging to his tired arms as he deepens his thrusts, rolling his length into you in short, sharp motions. “please, channie.”

he feels you clench around him, his movements growing slow with each passing second. there are moments when he slips, his fist guiding himself back to you, his fingers pressed to your stomach, thumb circling your clit. he feels you teeter to the edge. your pussy closing tighter as he gathers your release, sliding his thumb harshly over your clit, fucking even faster into you as you pass into ecstacsy. his teeth clench at the base of your throat, the combined stimulation drawing your orgasm from you. all that fills the air is your gargles, his name falling off your tongue in a chant, coated in gratitude and adoration. in love. chan follows you to euphoria. his hips stutter as you milk him. His arms weakened, he rests his forehead on your temple, chasing a high only you can conjure. one that draws out grunts of gratitude, of adoration. of love.

moments pass in sticky silence. pants filling the air as the afterglow sets in, the air stagnant as the pungent smell of sex fills the room. he welcomes the short seconds of peace, but he must break it.

“move in with me.” his motives on evenings like this were never too clear, not even to himself. but chan had not lied. every moment in your presence makes your absence all the more unthinkable. sleep comes easy when you are near. he dreams sweetly when you are here. he leans over to remove your blouse, freeing you from the damp material. as he does, he gazes into your eyes, speaking softly of all the nights you could spend doing just this. all the nights you have wasted not doing this. all the ways you could spend the nights in between. all the mornings he could spend with you and you with him. “you belong with me,” he breathes, lips pressed to your knuckles as his fingers trail up and down your arms. he stills, realising he might lull you into slumber, if his words had not already done so when you speak.

“how could i not know?” you ask, splitting his pretty face with a grin. “i belong with you.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 23

Pairing Grouping: Eric x Reader x Godric

Warnings: discussion of unwanted pregnancy, killing people, and Nan Flanagan

A/N: The moment has come to discover your origins. Finally.

***

You were behind the bar at Fangtasiataking inventory while Godric sat on a stool keeping you company. Pam and Eric were in the office going over payroll. Both were tasks normally left to others but after the issue with Longshadow, Eric was taking a more hands on approach. You wondered how long it would last.

You were crouched behind the bar counting glasses when the front door opened and shut.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” Godric said.

“I’m actually looking for someone,” a familiar voice answered.

In an instant, you were on your feet. Your father’s attention turned to you and he smiled. You couldn’t help the little squeal that left you as you hopped the counter and threw yourself into his waiting arms. It had been months since you’d seen him last, and you hadn’t parted on the best of terms. And, while you’d made amends since then, it wasn’t the same as one of his hugs. “I missed you,” you said into the shoulder you had your face pressed into.

“I’ve missed you too, angel.”

When you finally released him, you stepped back and looked him over. Not that he would look any different. He was a vampire, after all. “You’re early.” He wasn’t due to arrive until the next day.

He grinned. “Like I said, I missed you.”

You took his hand and turned to find Godric, Pam, and Eric all standing behind you. “Dad, this is Godric, Pam and Eric. Everyone, this is my dad, Roman.”

Eric stepped forward and offered his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

Roman shook his hand but simply hummed in acknowledgment instead of saying anything in return. You nudged him in the ribs with your elbow. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, amusement in his tone. He’d stayed silent just to irritate you. Jerk.

“Do you have an entourage with you?” you asked.

He looked down at you with a lifted brow.

“If you do, you’re staying at the hotel. Otherwise, you can stay with us,” you explained.

“We also have a loft that you can use as well,” Eric was quick to offer.

“We can discuss my lodgings later. But first, dinner. My treat.”

***

When you arrived at the overpriced restaurant, you’d been shown to a private room so any conversation wouldn’t be overheard. You left Pam at the club but brought Godric with you. Your father kept shooting glances in his direction but had yet to ask outright who he was to you. Idle conversation filled the first half of the meal. As expected, it was your father who turned the focus to more serious topics.

“Nan is displeased over the incident in Dallas. She believes that we set her up,” he said with a glance at you.

“Nan is displeased because she got called out on her shit,” you countered.

Roman frowned. He had tried to make you a proper lady and he so hated be reminded that you were not. Unless he was using it to his advantage, of course. “I’ve explained to you before that she is a necessary evil.”

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “No. She’s a bitch. I get the PR stuff, but she does you no favors amongst the vampire community. She’s not asserting your authority, she’s giving people another reason to dislike you.”

His eyes shifted to look at the other two men at the table who both nodded in agreement with your words. “I’ll take it under consideration. In the meantime, she has been assured that she doesn’t have to be in your vicinity for the foreseeable future.”

“Thanks, daddy,” you said with a grin.

He smiled as he shook his head. “I am entirely too indulgent where you are concerned. It is pointed out to me frequently.”

You hummed in agreement. “I assume these are the same people that are the first to recommend hiring me when needed.”

“That they are,” he said with a chuckle. His attention turned to Godric. “And who is he exactly?”

“That’s Godric. I already introduced him. Pay attention, Pop.” You were being deliberately obtuse. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all.

“Who is he to you?”

A slow smile slid onto your face. “He’s my boyfriend.”

His gaze flicked to Eric. “And you are okay with your mate claiming another?”

Your mate’s smile mirrored your own as he gave a little shrug. “He is my boyfriend as well, so I fail to see the problem.”

Roman leaned against the back of his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Eric and your daughter were made for each other. It was evident from their first meeting. I would never dream of coming between them. But if they wish to make room for me in their relationship, who am I to refuse them? I am no fool.” They were the first words Godric had spoken all evening. You didn’t know if they made any sort of impact with your father, but they had you grinning from ear to ear.

“You are aware that I am a vampire and you can’t actually give me a heart attack, correct?” Roman asked you.

“I can keep trying.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I would expect anything else.”

“Since we’re covering all the heavy topics, why exactly is it that you can still feel me as strongly as if we’d exchanged blood yesterday when it’s been months? Especially since I’ve fed from both of them?” you asked.

Your father went very still. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Eric crossed his arms over his chest and you knew he was dying to say something. Wisely, he was leaving the interrogation of your father up to you.

“Oh, I think you do. I also think you know the answer,” you said.

He pressed the button on the table that called a waiter. “Fine. But not here. Your place would be best. Somewhere there is no chance of being overheard.”

Well…that was unsettling.

***

Once you arrived home, Eric poured drinks for all of you. You settled in the living room and watched your father as he stood. His fingers nervously tapped the glass in his hand.

“There was a woman. An informant before the Great Revelation. An ally. She proved invaluable. When she was discovered and her usefulness exhausted, I offered to change her rather than kill her. She’d earned it.” He drained his glass. Eric was quick to get to his feet and refill it. “She accepted provided we proceed immediately.”

“You didn’t find that odd?” Godric asked.

“Not really. I figured she must have feared losing her nerve. It happens.” Roman shrugged. “Truth be told, I had a soft spot for the woman. She was beautiful and sweet. Compassionate. I changed her myself.”

You shifted uneasily. You had never met this woman, nor had she been mentioned before tonight. Something told you that you weren’t going to like where this story was headed.

“As I worked with her, taught her how to be a vampire, I noticed a change in her appearance. Her stomach was growing.” He licked his lips. “Upon questioning, I discovered that she wished be turned quickly to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. It should have worked, but miraculously she was still pregnant. The baby was still growing.”

“That is impossible,” Eric breathed.

“Improbable,” Godric corrected with a glance in your direction.

“I was fascinated. I told no one and kept her locked away, afraid she would find a way to end the pregnancy as she’d wished in the first place. When the baby was born, there was an immediate connection between us. Almost like the bond between a sire and his progeny, but different somehow.”

Roman stood with his feet wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at you. Your heart raced in anticipation of his next words. “I killed the doctor and nurse that delivered the child. And when your mother insisted you were a monster that needed to die, I killed her as well.”

The casual way he told you that you were indeed the child in question and that he’d killed your mother in the same sentence rocked through you. Sent you off kilter. And, while you supposed you should be furious with him for doing it, you weren’t. After all, according to him, she wanted you dead so why should you be angry that it was her instead of you.

“For all intents and purposes, I amyour father. My blood runs through your veins.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you finally found your voice to ask.

“At first, I feared you’d trust the wrong person. Your origins can never be discovered. There are too many that would fall to the temptation to experiment.”

“And later?” you prompted when he didn’t continue on his own.

“I was terrified I would lose you when you discovered the truth.” He ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath. “But I swore that I would tell you everything if you asked. So, I am.”

You stood then and hugged him. He gripped you tightly and sighed in contentment. “You’re not going to lose me, daddy. You saved me.”

When you pulled away, you frowned in irritation. “Though this does mean that we technically still don’t know what I am.”

“Of course we do, my love,” Godric said with a smirk. “You are what you have always been. An impossible thing.”