#I was losing my mind by the way. Might’ve lost my voice but it’s okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emotionalmessss · 2 years ago

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King of Curses

A/N: a little Sukuna one-shot for my first ever post. :) I'm open to writing more if anyone has some requests. :)

Synopsis: reader and megumi find themselves trapped in sukuna's domain. Non-canon. No spoilers.

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, rape/non-con, blood, gore. this is pretty dark and if that triggers you do not read! 18+ readers only! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 8.2k

Blood. It was the first thing that assaulted my senses. The air was thick with it. The stench of it was enough to make my nose curl upwards in revulsion, my eyes immediately stinging and tearing up. I forced my eyes closed, blinking away the burning sensation to my best abilities. The next thing I noticed was the smell of death. It was everywhere, surrounding us from all sides, along with the piles of bones that littered the ground. This was Hell, I was so sure of it. The dread built up in my stomach, reminding me that we could easily become a pile of bones and rotting flesh if we were not cautious.

“Megumi.” I spoke out, my voice rumbling low with fear.

“I know.” The Sorcerer beside me glanced over, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I suppressed the bile that rose up in my throat as we pressed on. The ground was covered in a thick layer of blood and water, making it incredibly difficult to maneuver. I had stepped on more bones than I could count, nearly losing my footing in the process. I would have toppled over if it weren’t for Megumi, his thick arm draped over my shoulder, keeping me balanced.

“We need to get out of here. Whatever here even is.” My teeth gritted, almost enough to shatter them into pieces. Not only was it disgusting here, but it was frigid. My fingers could barely function, the chill I felt traveled all the way to my bones.

Megumi gave a slight nod, but remained silent, he was too focused on what was ahead of us. Which was nothing much but more fog, blood, and bones. He was limping beside me, blood coating whatever was left of his uniform and clinging to his face. His upper leg was bleeding badly. Megumi and I were able to hold our own, our bodies strengthened from years of training and combat, but it didn’t mean that we couldn’t bleed out. And I feared that he would bleed out before we got out of here.

I wasn’t in the best of shape either, my bicep had suffered a deep cut, not nearly as bad as his though. However, it hadn’t stopped bleeding since we were summoned here. Wherever here even was. My mental state was more damaged than anything, the fear slowly eating away at my senses.

“Gojo?” I asked, peering up at him through my disheveled hair. “Nobara?”

My mind drifted to Itadori when the names of my friends fell from my mouth, a frown forming across my lips as I thought of my best friend. A vessel to Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Itadori could no longer control him and in return, we all lost our friend for the time being, hopefully. My eyes stung with fresh tears at the thought of it, brimming over the bottom of my lashes. I shook my head. Itadori was strong. He was going to be okay. At least, I tried to convince myself every night.

“I don’t know. They might’ve made it somewhere safe. It seems like it’s only us here.” Megumi winced as he spoke, his ankle buckling beneath him and causing him to topple down in a heap. He cursed under his breath, his head hanging low, letting out an annoyed grumble.

“Megumi.” I dropped down to my knees beside him, the fabric of my skirt soaking up the crimson liquid, coating my thighs. “Let me wrap it at least.” My hands moved to cup his face, thumbing away the dry blood around his mouth.

He winced, squeezing his eyes shut in response. “That’s not important right now. I need to get you out of here.” He began to push himself off his knees, but buckled back down in the process.

“Just stop! Why do you always have to be so fucking difficult?” I shook my head in annoyance. My hands fiddled with the hem of my skirt, tearing a strip of fabric off. My eyebrows were pulled together in concentration as I began to wrap his wound, pausing and resuming when he gave a sharp exhale.

I knew that this wouldn’t be enough to completely stop the bleeding, but it was going to have to work for the time being. The navy fabric deepened in color as his blood pooled around it, soaking through it.

“You shouldn’t worry about me.” He scowled as I pulled him back up to his feet. This time, he was able to apply more pressure on it and gained more stability.

“Oh yeah? Then who will?” I rebutted, wiping my hands on my tattered uniform. I gave him a sideways glance, tempting him to try and say something else.

He fell silent at my words, allowing us to continue on our way. Even with the little strength he gained from my bandage, he still placed his arm around my shoulders, keeping me close to his side. Even by this slightest action, I felt a lot safer than a few moments ago. The warmth pooled around my stomach, tightening into knots. A small smile formed at the feeling, bringing me some sort of joy in this hell.

The further we walked, the stronger the smell of blood got, once again assaulting my nose. My lungs were struggling to gather enough oxygen, it felt as if the blood had coated itself inside of them, making it nearly impossible to get a full breath. I could tell Megumi was feeling the same. His labored breaths came out in short bursts from beside me, which had me worried.

I knew we were in a Domain of some kind, a rather large and dangerous one. The anxiety that I felt in my stomach had tripled, slowly eating away at my calm demeanor. I knew that Megumi was surely feeling the same, but he had not shown it. His attention was too focused on the unstable ground beneath his feet, occasionally glancing around us for precaution.

My eyes snapped forward when I finally shook off my dazed thoughts. The amount of bones had multiplied, seemingly appearing from nowhere. I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. The space around us seemed to open up more, my eyes taking notice of a clearing up ahead. A large structure began making its way into my hazy vision, the daunting shadow sending a chill down my back. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to focus, unable to tell due to the distance and fog.

My attention was turned back onto Megumi, I heard him swear and proceed to stumble on the remnants of animals, or humans. I couldn’t tell. I knew that time was a pressing matter, and it wouldn’t be wise to drag him all the way there in his condition.

“I’m going to get a better look. You wait here, okay?” I shifted out of his hold, starting to jog in the direction of the unfamiliar structure.

“Y/N! Slow down! We don’t know what’s out there!” Megumi called after me.

I ignored his warnings, running faster. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins, compelling my entire body to run. The mere thought of escaping this place was too much for my body to handle. I felt my lungs struggling to suck in the air that my body needed, but I didn’t care. Every breath I drew burned my throat, and every time I smelt the air, I wanted to puke.

The blood splashed around me as I pumped my legs faster, soaking into my shoes and nearly tripping me. I ignored it, continuing to press on while Megumi shouted after me. I gave him a sideways glance, noticing that he was struggling to keep up.

“Just wait there! I’ll be right back!” I yelled back, glancing over my shoulder. He had trailed far enough behind me that I didn’t hear the next words he shouted at me.

My attention returned as I neared the tower. My heart thumped against my ribs, numbing my senses with adrenaline. The air thickened, if that was even possible.

I was closer now, skidding to a stop as I craned my head back to look up. My eyes struggling to adjust due to all of the fog and darkness. I wiped them with the back of my hands, shaking my head in an attempt to alert my senses.

The haze left my vision, now able to process what was directly in front of me. This wasn’t a tower, building, or exit. It was a pile of bones. My stomach clenched and I covered my mouth, backing away slightly.

Skulls. Bones. Everywhere. This thing was made of them. There was even more littered on the floor. It towered sloppily, some were burnt, some were old, and some were fresh. I brought my hand up to my nose, which was now stinging with the stench of this place. I continued to back away from the base of it, my eyes following up the makeshift staircase, squinting as I noticed a chair of some sorts.

Oh, no.

This wasn’t just a tower of bones. This was a throne. A shrine.

My eyes widened at the realization, my heart thundering against my chest. “Megumi! Run! Don’t come over here!” I screamed, praying that he would hear me somehow. My mouth hung open in shock, desperately trying to find the words I needed.

Get out! Run! The voice at the back of my head screamed, but my body refused to listen.

My legs struggled to keep up with me as I cautiously backed up, feeling like they were filled with lead. As much as I wanted to turn around and run, I couldn't pull my gaze from the vileness of this all. My body buzzed with anxiety, tingling all over.

“What a little fool you are.” A voice behind spoke, my body jerked at the sound of it, stumbling around to face it. My vision swam at the quick action and I stumbled backwards, falling into the wet ground.

I flinched, my eyes staying glued on the ground around me, unable to find the courage to face that voice. When I refused to avert my eyes, I noticed a pair of sandals step towards me. I couldn’t find the courage to look up, knowing that if I did, I would be dead. The anxiety I felt manifested itself into pure and utter fear now, compelling my unrelenting body to move.

Slowly, I moved my eyes up and along the form that was dressed in white robes in front of me. My jaw slacked open, my hands planted beside me to keep me upright as I stared at the King of Curses himself. His red eyes bore into mine, a sinister smirk plastered across his marked face.

Sukuna. This imposter wore the skin of my best friend, but I found no comfort in being around him. I sucked in deeply as I stared back at him. He was bigger than Itadori, stronger, and faster. His body was taut with muscles, rippling beneath his robes. The black markings covered his face, the two slitted eyes shut tightly as he watched me. This wasn’t my best friend staring down at me, this was a monster. A monster that stood for everything that Itadori was against. Someone, something that stole the life of my best friend.

“A pretty little fool.” He mused, his eyes glimmering in the darkness.

A wash of anger flooded through me, a mixture of the pain I felt for Itadori and Sukuna’s condescending words.

��Sukuna.” I hissed. “Let Itadori go.” I demanded, surprising myself with my tone.

"I didn't give you permission to speak to me so informally now did I?" The king of curses tilted his head to the side to examine my frail body better.

"Let my friend go." I repeated, stubbornly fighting back.

Sukuna’s expression morphed into that of amusement, his back stretching to stand straighter. I, on the other hand, shifted back, leaning fully on my blood soaked palms. My heart raced, the panic beginning to set in, but all I could think of was Itadori.

“That little brat?” Sukuna remained planted where he stood, his hand coming up to his chin in faux consideration. “No, I don’t think I will.” His smile widened, displaying his unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Let him go and we won’t bother you ever again.” I gritted, shifting onto my feet now. The blood soaked through my uniform, clinging to my body and dripping down my bare thighs, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna. His eyes flicked down to my body for a moment, then moved back to my face.

He chuckled. “I have another idea. One you might enjoy more.”

The grip on my nerves was slipping, telling me that I should run, hide, and find Megumi. Sukuna made no move towards me, but his words frightened me. The threat behind that sentence was enough to make me break out into a sprint around him.

“Megumi!” I cried, my legs clumsily attempting to keep up with my pace.

He was on me before I could even think. His arms snaking around me, capturing and caging me against his body in a flash. I cried out, struggling in his vice like grip, squirming violently. His hands lingered on my torso, right beneath my breasts.

“We haven’t even begun, where are you running to?” Sukuna chuckled, his mouth pressed against the shell of my ear. The blood rushed to the spot where his lips grazed ever so slightly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to fathom what was happening. My head craned to the side, trying to avoid his hot mouth pressing into my ear. My back was flush against his chest, feeling his chest vibrate with another sinister laugh which got louder, and louder as I shuddered at the sound of it.

“Open your eyes. Your knight has arrived, little one.” He jeered, his warm breath tickling my cheek.

My eyes snapped open, despite their unwillingness to obey. My gaze fell upon Megumi, who was wide stanced a few feet away from us.

“This is going to be so much fun.” Sukuna whispered.

The urge to run kicked in again and I tried to dive towards him in a panic, but Sukuna’s grip was unrelenting, keeping me stuck to him. A cry left my chapped lips when he jostled me back against his chest, his fingers brushing over my breasts. The feeling of his fingers lingering over the material of my drenched uniform made me whimper, squirming in his grasp. A throaty groan that rumbled from his chest didn’t go unnoticed by me or Megumi, who’s stare hardened.

“Let her go.” Megumi made a move towards us, cautiously stepping towards the Curse that had me planted against him.

Sukuna barely moved when Megumi stepped forward, instead, I felt the sharp end of his nail press into the skin on my neck, stilling Megumi’s movements immediately. I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes pleading. Megumi was no match for Sukuna, the difference in their strength was incomparable.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt her.” He said, realization at the threat registering across his features. Sukuna’s pointed nail skimmed down the side of my neck, slowly making its way between my breasts.

“Whatever I want, huh? Then why don’t we make a deal? I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding we both enjoy.” Sukuna taunted, his hands trailing down the sides of my waist, his nails just barely brushing against my skin, making the threat known. If I tried to run, he’d gut me with his hands.

My mouth parted in disgust at his touch, slamming my eyes shut when I could no longer bear the look on Megumi’s face. Sukuna chuckled, enjoying the reaction he was pulling from Megumi, knowing he had struck a nerve by his actions.

“Stop this.” He demanded. “Let her go now.” Megumi’s eyes were blazing with anger, his fists were clenched at his sides. His calm exposure was slowly unraveling at the sight before him, my eyes remained focused at the ground.

“Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I just said, brat?” Sukuna shot back, annoyed with Megumi’s ignorance to his proposal.

“Hand her over and then we will talk.” Sukuna seemed to contemplate Megumi’s proposal, humming to himself in thought.

“Are you worried that I’m going to hurt her?” Sukuna nudged me slightly, his grip strengthening on my shaking body. I nearly stumble back from the slight push, his body keeping me upright when my legs start to shake.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, willing myself to stop the shaking.

My eyes met Megumi’s, his stare was hard, eyes glossy as he watched me. He was struggling to contain his anger, it was evident by the way he gritted his teeth when he spoke, and his rigid stance. I had rarely ever seen this side of him, and wished I never would again. My heart shattered as I noticed his bandage gone from his leg, fresh blood dripping down into the sea of dark liquid beneath us.

“Don’t make a deal with this bastard. Find a way out of here. I’ll be fine.” I broke my silence, pleading with him. Seeing him like this hurt a thousand times more than what Sukuna could do to me, or so I tried to convince myself.

“Hear that Sorcerer? She doesn’t want you here anymore. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” Sukuna laughed hard, the deep sound of it echoing loudly, temporarily deafening me.

His fingers lingered around the hem of my skirt, toying with the ripped material lazily. His head dipped down, pressing against the side of my cheek. I kept my eyes glued on Megumi, watching as his expression shifted to disgust and then back to anger in a flash.

To prevent Megumi from intervening, I spoke. “Let us both go and we will never bother you again.” I breathed deeply, flinching away from his touch.

Sukuna hummed once again in consideration, his head tilted into the soft flesh of my cheek. “Deal.” I could feel his smile against the side of my face, his attention returning to Megumi. His brows pulled in as he took a step towards us, as he waited for Sukuna to release me. Something flashed across his face that I barely noticed in time. It couldn’t have been from my expression, which remained blank. It had to be from Sukuna. He did something to make Megumi’s eyes widen.

“Wait, Y/N!” Megumi shouted, his words falling upon deaf ears.

My eyes squeezed shut, waiting to wake up from this nightmare, wanting to be back home to Gojo, Nobara and Megumi. I couldn’t stand another second of being in Sukuna’s presence. It was more overwhelming than I could have ever imagined. I prayed silently, my eyes closed firmly as I pleaded internally. My heart fluttered as I swayed slightly, the knot in my stomach slowly dissipating at the thought of being home.

I was met with silence. The suffocating feeling of Sukuna’s grip was gone. The air had become lighter, the oxygen finally making its way back into my lungs.

Breathing deeply, I opened my eyes slowly.

Blood. Bones. Once again filling my vision as the fear crept back into my system, paralyzing me in place. The room was spinning as my head snapped back and forth, my hands coming up to the sides of my head. No .

“You failed to clarify that I had to let you both go at the same time.” Sukuna sneered, the sound of his voice coming from an unknown location to me. My eyes searched frantically for Megumi, who was nowhere to be found. “Stupid girl.”

“Megumi!” I screamed, my voice cracking.

I stumbled backwards, turning on my heel and making a run for it. Tears blurred my vision as I ran through the thick fog, Sukuna’s laugh echoing in the distance, mocking me. I sobbed harder now, running blindly away from the voice that seemed to come from all directions. I wiped my eyes, the stinging sensation disrupting my vision as I slammed up against something hard.

I stumbled back, eyes widening when I met the gaze of Sukuna. His head was tilted to the side, staring at me through half lidded eyes, the thick muscles of his arms crossed over his chest. When I slammed into him, he barely flinched, watching me with amusement instead of annoyance. The look on his face was that of enjoyment, the curve of his lips silently telling me to try again.

And I did just that.

I retreated back, spinning on my feet and running in the opposite direction. The thickness of the fog once again lined my lungs, making my breaths come out in short gasps as I pumped my legs. The pool of blood beneath me splashed every time my feet slammed into it, staining my skin. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from passing out, it clouded my senses.

The air shifted, the haze that once filled my vision was replaced by the familiarity of that god awful shrine of bones. Confusion spread through me, I had been running in circles? No . He was controlling this. This was his own Domain, he had the power to do whatever he wanted.

“Have you finished, little one?” Sukuna’s voice was behind me again.

The hair on the back of my neck stood upright. The muscles in my body pulled tight, freezing me in place, my eyes widened as I began to understand. I turned my back to the bones, returning the heated gaze to Sukuna. His arms were crossed as he watched me with curiosity.

I took a small step back out of fear. Part of me wanted to step forwards and fight, but most of me wanted to keep as much distance between this curse and myself.

“What do you want from me?” The structure behind me provided very little comfort in this situation, knowing that I was caged in like an animal. Grimacing when I realized I had nowhere to go.

“Now isn’t that a dumb question from a dumb little sorcercer?” Sukuna laughs, loud and sharp and ear piercing, slicing through my confidence within seconds.

Before I could even react, he was on me. I found myself bent over a broken pedestal, folding in half at the waist. Sukuna’s hand molded against my lower back, keeping me pinned beneath him. A strangled cry left my throat at the sudden movement, barely even registering what he had done until it was too late to run.

“No!” A strangled cry flew from my lips, cutting through the heavy air.

Sukuna laughed, his hand placing more pressure against my back when I tried to buck forwards. The force he applied to my back made it harder to breathe, leaving me gasping and coughing for air. My hands planted against the side of the pedestal, trying to push my body upright and away. The smooth stone is a sharp contrast to the roughness of my palms, blood coating the insides of my nail beds.

“I’ve got you now, pet. There’s nowhere for you to run, no one to help you, no escaping . You’re all mine.” He says. A sick sense of fear builds up in my chest, my nails dig into the rock, attempting to wiggle away from him.

“Let go of me!”

“If you keep squirming like that, I’m going to start thinking you want this.” Sukuna’s voice rumbled from behind me, the sound of it sending a shock to my core.

Nothing came from my throat except a sharp cry, my face contorting in disgust as I futilely attempted to escape. The thought of me even enjoying this made me angry. There was no way. I would never. I could never. He just wanted a reaction out of me. He fed off them. My eyes enlarged when I felt Sukuna’s free hand touch the bottom of my skirt, the flimsy material acting as the only shield between his prying fingers and my inner thighs.

“Stop!” My shaky hands tried to find him, trying to detach his hands from my thighs. When that didn’t work, I clenched my thighs tightly together, preventing the access that he wanted. This did not seem to deter him, he snorted through his nose, and wedged his thigh between mine, parting them with ease.

Sukuna ignores me, his hands lifting my skirt, and his fingers proding against my underwear, testing the waters. I shivered, partially due to his cool fingers pressing against my core, and partially due to the fear growing inside my belly. I squirmed in his hold, earning nothing more than a snicker from him.

“Dry.” He says plainly. “Too bad for you, Megumi isn’t here to help you.” Sukuna sneered.

My face flushed with embarrassment, mixing with the anger and fear that was already present. My body jolted forwards against the stone when I felt his fingers hook beneath the fabric of my panties, ripping them to shreds with a small amount of force. His hand that held me down shifted, only for a moment, and only to flip me onto my back.

Half my body dipped off the structure, my legs spreading around his torso as he positioned himself closer to me. My teary eyes met with his lust filled ones, the look on his face was that of a demon. He was a demon after all. His lips pulled back into a smirk, his eyes focused on my face.

My thighs clenched around his body, attempting to keep him from moving any closer.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I wailed, nails digging into the skulls beneath me, trying to find the grip to pull myself away. My attempts remained futile, only doing so much as pushing the bones around.

Sukuna let out a sinister laugh. “Keep fighting me. It turns me on even more.”

His hands dug into the fleshy part of my thighs, spreading them further apart for him and ramming himself flush to my body. I let out a small whimper at the friction, his clothed erection meeting against the flesh of my pussy for a moment. His fingers dipped back down, my back arched upwards, trying to wiggle away.

I froze at the sudden feeling of his nail pressing into my cunt, not enough to hurt but enough to make me jump. I looked up at him through tear clumped lashes, my eyes widening. I swallowed back the sickness that threatened to make its way out of my throat, urging myself to keep it under control.

“I can make this hurt, or I can make this feel good, it’s your choice.” His words were like poison to my ears, embedding the fear further into my stomach. His nail still made its presence known, pressing deeper against my clit.

“Please.” It sounded more like a question, my eyes searched his amused face, trying to find some sort of trace of humility.

Sukuna smiled devilishly, bending down towards my stilled frame, and ignoring my pleas. The thick muscles of his back taking my focus, anything to distract myself. I twitched as his nail retracted and he rubbed gently, his thumb rolling in circles, building up the heat inside my core.

“Your body is reacting so deliciously to me.” He groaned.

I squirmed in his hold, turning my face away. “Please d-.”

“Don’t stop?” He chuckled.

Sukuna’s head dipped beside my neck, his tongue running along the side of it, leaving a wet, hot trail up to my ear. His breath was warm, a stark contrast to the cool air around us, so much so that I leaned into him. His fingers worked on the sensitive pearl, making me twitch every so often when he hit the right spot.

His tongue ran back down to my collar bone, leaving another wet trail. My hands planted themselves against his solid chest, pushing aimlessly against it. It rumbled beneath the tips of my fingers with another sick laugh of his.

“After I’m finished with you, no one will be able to satisfy you ever again.” He spoke.

Sukuna grunted, his hand leaving my pussy as he wrapped both arms around me, pulling me onto his lap. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around either side of him, out of fear of falling backwards. One arm wrapped tightly around my back, keeping me pressed into him, while the other ripped at the buttons of my top.

Each one popped open, exposing my chest, another shriek left my lips. My arms draped over the back of his shoulders, gripping onto him tightly for balance. With my shirt being ripped to shreds, this allowed Sukuna access to breasts, his head dipping down slowly. The heat of his mouth on my breast sent me into a frenzy of panic.

My back arched, my chest pressing into him. His mouth leaves trails of saliva along my chest, kissing all over my flushed skin. My blunt nails dug into his back, trying to cause him any sort of pain in hopes that he would back off. Sukuna barely flinched, instead he groaned at my actions.

His hips suddenly bucked forward, ramming his erection against my clit.

“Gah!” My mouth parted at the sudden feeling, my thighs clenched tighter around him, my hips grinding down against the feeling.

Sukuna’s mouth detached from my nipple, his eyes lazily flicking up to mine, looking at me with a knowing smile. My expression morphed into utter disgust at my body involuntarily reacting to him. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he moved his hips again, hitting that exact spot, this time harder and better.

A groan rumbled from the back of my throat, my head tilting back and my eyes squeezing shut. My hands clenched into his back, trying to relieve the pressure in my body somehow.

“Look at you. Coming undone when I’ve barely even touched you, like a little whore.” Sukuna's voice oozed. His free hand moved from my breast and down to my core, toying with the soft folds of my pussy. “You’d cum just like this if I let you, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh-” My mouth opened up in shock.

His fingers trailed up my slit, my arousal coating his fingers as he rubbed my clit. I could hardly keep myself steady, focusing solely on the heat building up at my cunt. I swayed slightly on his pelvis, Sukuna’s grip on my lower back tightened, keeping me upright. My mouth parted in shock, the pleasure continuing to build up in my core. I found myself grinding against his fingers, desperately trying to find release.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, a breathless chuckle snapping me back to reality.

“Feels good doesn’t it? You eager little girl.”

His hand retracted from my clit, leaving me gasping at the loss of friction. His hands meet at my waist, lifting me off his lap and down onto my back. I started to shift away from him, only to freeze once he shot me a sharp glare. My eyes drop down at his erection, poking through the material of his robes. A darker stain found right above his pelvis, the wetness soaking through.

Sukuna’s eyes followed mine, noticing the stain as well, his lips carving up to a teasing smile, just like he always adorned when he was toying with me. “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, slut .” A flash of heat flickered across my features from his words.

His hands tore at the fabric of his robes, before discarding it to the side. His cock sprung free, his hand trailing along the shaft, giving a few pumps as he watched me, his red orbs glaring at me like I was his possession. Unable to look him directly in the eyes, I let them roam over his body. Just like his face, black markings covered his arms, shoulders, and stomach. He was equally beautiful and cruel.

“You should see how you look right now. I just love that look on your face.” Sukuna crooned, falling onto his elbows, caging me beneath him. He was thoroughly enjoying the reactions he was getting from me, knowing that I was completely at his mercy.

“No. Please. Just-”

Sukuna’s hands gripped me by my hips, pulling me towards him. The fabric of my skirt bunched up at my waist, exposing myself completely to his hungry gaze. He adjusted himself above me, his hand stroking his cock, slowly lowering himself towards my pussy. My eyes watched in shock, the sheer size of it enough to make my eyes grow wide.

“Like what you see, hm?” He asked.

I couldn’t form a single coherent thought, my mind raced as Sukuna’s fingers suddenly cupped my cunt, his middle finger slamming into my core before I could even realize. My head snapped back and my waist lurched forward, bucking into the feeling. My teeth ground down against each other, so tightly that I thought I would shatter them.

“You can pretend that you don’t want this, but you’re so fucking wet for me. Who knew you’d be such a little slut?” Sukuna’s finger pumped faster, making it harder to contain the sounds that threatened to escape my mouth.

The composure that I tried to hold crumbled to pieces when I could no longer stop the sounds from escaping. My eyes screwed shut when I let out a moan, adding even more hatred I had for my reacting body.

“What a pathetic little slut. Do you get off knowing you can’t stop me?” Sukuna’s voice was condescending, his body leering down closer to me. “Does it make you wet to feel so helpless?” He pressed on.

His free hand moved to cup the side of my cheek, thumb toying with the bottom of my lip. Acting on instinct, I quickly jerked my head down, catching his thumb between my canines and biting down as hard as I could.

Sukuna barely even flinched when the skin of his thumb broke, blood filling up my mouth. His hand pulled away from my mouth, leaving the warmth with a plop. His blood dripped down the sides of my mouth, slipping down into my hair. I watched as his eyes slowly drifted down to meet my gaze. I felt his finger jerk up inside me, stabbing into the soft flesh of my walls. The pain erupted before I could speak, my words turning into a shrill scream.

“You little bitch. I knew you’d be so much fun.” He laughed, ending it off with a sigh. He examined his thumb, which had already healed. My teeth gritted together, the taste of his blood still lingering on my tongue. He pulled his finger from me after a few agonizing moments, blood mixed with my arousal, dripping down as I anxiously watched him.

Despite the pain, the loss of contact made my body twitch.

Sukuna’s hand wrapped itself around my throat, tightening enough to make my mouth hang open in surprise. My eyes bulged, hands immediately shooting up to grasp him. His other hand grabbed onto his cock, running it along my slit, coating himself in my wetness. My mouth hung open, closing every few seconds to swallow the saliva that pooled up. I gripped onto his hand, trying to pry his fingers off.

“How precious.” He mocked my weak attempts to fight him off.

The excruciating feeling of my muscles constricting took my focus, my core burning at the sudden intrusion. He entered me with a groan, eyes rolling back as he dropped down onto me. My walls clenched, the searing pain almost unbearable, even with the slick of my pussy. He barely gave me time to adjust before he snapped his hips into mine, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix.

“Sukuna-” I managed to croak, tapping at his hand. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to me, my vision began to gray and my eyes fluttered.

His grip on my neck loosened, unexpectedly. Unfortunately, I felt his pace pick up. He pulled away and then slammed back into me, hitting my cervix once again. This time, I screamed, unable to hold it back.

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle my cock?” He chuckled, his face returning to my line of vision. His red eyes gleamed with amusement as he bared his canines at me. “That’s too bad…” His head dipped closer, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, the flat of his tongue pressed against my lips, lapping up the drying blood.

My head twisted to the side and I made a sound that came out like a groan and a moan. His tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva across my face, mixing with the blood. I feel his hand leave my throat, gripping hard at my waist instead.

The thick muscle continued pounding into me. My muscles strained, forcing me to try and relax myself. If I was relaxed, it would hurt less, right? I breathed in deeply, demanding my body to release the tension that was building up. The sound of skin on skin filled the air, making it even harder to control my anxiety.

“You’re not giving up already, are you?” He taunts in between groans.

My lips pressed into a thin line, hiding the sounds that sat in the back of my raw throat. I felt the angle of his torso change, spreading my legs open even more, hitting at an angle I didn’t even know was possible.

“Sukuna, please.” I whimpered, my body jerking from his harsh movements. “It’s too much.” His hips planted against mine, grinding down hard.

“I want to hear you beg first, slut. Maybe then I’ll let you cum, hm? How does that sound?” His voice dripped with malice. His nails dug into my side, enough to bruise but not draw blood.

My frantic eyes met with his half lidded ones, watching me to see what I would do. I opened my mouth to respond, but my words were replaced with another cry as he slammed back into that same spot. My hands slapped down against him, hitting him with every ounce of strength that I had left, which did nothing to him, his only response was a small laugh.

“Please! Please! Sl-slow it down.” I mewled beneath him, squirming in his grip.

My eyes focused hard on his, which twitched with knowing. “I want to hear you say it.”

I shook my head, another snap of his hips causing my back to lurch. The pain exploded and I sobbed. I felt myself clench around him, trying to push him out in any way that I could. My attempts of forcing him out were fruitless, he only seemed to enjoy it even more. I tried so hard to keep my composure, but it began to dwindle with each thrust. The pain was building up faster than my body could handle.

I bit hard on my tongue, stopping the whimpers.

“Did you say something?” He ridiculed me.

His arm hooked under my thigh, raising it up slightly. At this angle, he was even deeper than I ever thought he could go. It hurt so much. Even more than before. His intent was to force me to beg. He wanted me to have no choice but to submit. It was either beg or be split in half.

“M-ake me-” I stuttered, shaking my head. “Make me cum, please.” I begged, hating the way the words sounded on my tongue. As soon as they left my mouth, I wished that I could take them back. The feeling of humiliation took over, flushing my face from any color.

He dropped my thigh at my words.

Sukuna chuckled, his hand moving down to my clit, but not before he leaned back, spitting onto it. I jumped when his saliva hit my clit, the feeling was enough to make me moan.

“Good girl.” He coos, lessening the force of his thrusts and circling his thumb around my clit. The pain subsided, instead, the warmth flooded back into my core, leaving me throbbing and wiggling in his hold.

“Such a brave little sorcerer you are. Taking my cock so well. So well .” His words sent another jolt down to my pussy, clenching down on his cock hard. The sounds of wet skin hitting against each other drifted to my ears, red burning at my cheeks.

“I’m going to ruin you.” His words rang heavy in my ears, his thumb moving quicker, getting me to where I needed to be. My eyes rolled back and I moved my hands to his shoulders, clawing at the tough skin. I grinded my hips down onto his fingers, desperately chasing my own release. The pressure exploding, nothing but a sharp gasp leaving my mouth as my head tilted back. My vision sways as my pussy clenches around him, my nails digging into his skin deeper.

“Cumming already? Desperate little slut. Putting up such a fight for nothing.” He patronized.

My head drops to the side, his words falling on deaf ears. Sukuna’s hands moving back up to my waist, tugging me in closer. I feel his cock throb inside me, the pleasure turning quickly into a feeling of overstimulation as he continues to pound into me.

“No. That’s not true.” I gritted.

“It’s not? You’re not just another dirty slut? Cumming for a fucking curse?”

His words stung deep, erasing every thought that I had inside my brain within seconds. My face burned bright with a blush, lips pressing into a thin line. My teeth bit down onto my lip when I felt him thrust again, this time not as deep and not as hard.

“You’re such a mess. If only Megumi could see you now, cumming all over me, and wailing beneath me. I bet he’s thought of you like this.” Sukuna looked down at me, another smirk appearing on his face as he taunted me, eyes widened and sadistic.

I turned my head away from his gaze, only to feel his hand dig into my cheeks, pulling his head back towards me. My lips pursed together, a sly look appearing on his face. “Oh no. You’re going to watch me, or I’ll dig your eyes out of that pretty little head of yours.” His voice was demanding.

Everything in my body hurts. My back dug painfully into the rough and uneven ground beneath me, jabbing into sensitive spots whenever I shifted. My muscles began to grow tired, fatigued from the fight and the strain it was being put under. My arms slipped from his shoulders, pressing blindly and weakly against his abdomen. The high from my orgasm was beginning to wear off, the pain was setting back in.

My eyes remained focused on his, too afraid that he would make word on his threat of tearing my eyes out of my head. I felt another rush of humiliation when his words were processed.

Sukuna flipped me round, bending me over the pedestal again. My bare stomach and breasts pressed up against the cool surface. It felt good against my sticky skin, cooling my body down slightly. His cock left me for a moment before he lined back up, his hips slamming against my ass. I squealed at the change of position, taken aback by the swift movement and sudden feeling of fullness.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice growled from above me, the flat of his palm finding my lower back again, pressing me further into the smooth stone. My hand shifted back to meet his when the pressure was building too much on my stomach, feeling like he was trying to push me into the stone.

He grabbed onto my wrist and pinned it against my back, leaving my other hand to support myself as he drilled into me.

“You’re so fucking tight. Ah-” My knees scraped against the floor, back dipping down.

With each movement, my arm went further and further up my back, the burn in my shoulder making me scream out. My cheek was pressed uncomfortably against the stone, tears blurring my vision as I stared into the abis.

Another snap of his hips caused me to bite my lip, holding back the cries that I knew he would feed off of. My muscles were stretched to their max, and I could only pray that he would finish already. I prayed for death.

I craned my neck slightly, watching as Sukuna kept his gaze on my ass. I started to feel light headed, whether it be from the strain that was being put on my body, or something else, I felt like I was going to pass out. Sukuna barely let up, using his other hand to support my slumped form.

“S-sukuna. I-”

His nails dug into my skin. “Don’t pass out on me yet. I have no intentions on fucking a corpse, that would be boring.”

I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut as he continued fucking me. His pace did not let up, bruising my cervix with each thrust. The feeling of his fingers back on my clit made me snap back into reality, my hips squirming against his fingers, desperately trying to find some pleasure to relieve the pain.

“That’s it.” He grunted, his movements growing stronger with need, the need to find his own pleasure.

“Oh, god.” I moaned, back bowing down to get closer to him.

Sukuna snickered, his fingers picking up the pace at my body's response to him. He released the grip on my arm, seeing that I was no longer fighting back. Instead, I felt both his hands plant on my waist, fucking me even harder. With this angle, I could feel every inch of his cock inside me, filling me up completely.

“So needy. Are you going to cum again for me?” His words sent me over the edge, my orgasm hitting even harder than the first one. My body clenched and my eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open in pleasure. Sukuna gripped me harder, his movements beginning to slow as I felt the hot rush of his own orgasm filling me up. The deep groan of his own release deepened the feeling of my orgasm, fueling it even more.

I remained still against the pedestal when he pulled out of me, my body unable to move from exhaustion. The muscles in my body were strained and sore, even breathing was starting to hurt. My eyes fluttered closed, slowly slipping down to the ground beneath me. I could faintly hear Sukuna laughing behind me, shuffling for his robes.

I barely heard him step near me until my eyes opened, his form crouched beside me. It took every ounce of strength in me to narrow my eyes at him, my jaw clenching down.

“Ah, don’t give me that look. It makes me want to fuck you again.” He purred, his hand reaching out to wipe away a strand of hair. “Don’t you want to see your friend again?”

My eyes snapped open at his words. “Itadori?”

Sukuna tutted, his head turning to focus beneath us. I slowly followed his gaze, noticing a small figure in the distance, closing in on us. My reddened eyes strained in the general direction, narrowing in focus. That raven coloured hair made my heart jump, followed by my body launching towards his direction. I no longer cared about the pain in my body, it slowly turned into numbness when I saw him.

“Megumi!” I wailed as I got up to my feet, pushing away from Sukuna.

Sukuna caught me before I could get away from him. “Ah, ah, ah.” His chest rubbed against my back. I squirmed once again in his hold, watching as Megumi stood rigid a few feet in front of us. His fists were clenched in a tight white grip, his eyes set hard as he scanned over us.

“You bastard.” Megumi’s voice was rough.

Sukuna ignored him, instead he leaned beside my ear. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

He gave me a light shove towards my friend. My feet stumbled, barely able to support the weight of my body. I took shaky steps towards Megumi, my hands fumbling to pull down my skirt. My face burned with humiliation as I crashed into his arms. The warmth of his body was comforting, but not enough to stop my shaking. He tried to cover me with the best of his abilities, his grip was tight around my waist.

“I’m going to kill you.” Megumi hissed.

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jaymber · 2 years ago

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Hello I have a question about Vaea and you might’ve explained it before but how did the situation with relic turn out for him? from what I can tell Johnny got his body back or a replacement of some type?

Okay, so the story's a liiiittle long, but it roughly goes like this :

In my timeline, it ends with a Don't Fear the Reaper/Temperance Ending : Vaea powers off the entire tower (and everyone in it) thanks to his most powerful ultimate hack (which would've killed him and technically did, but Johnny was there to take over), and choose to sacrifice himself because he can't bear the thought of Johnny being no more.

He joins Alt beyond the Blackwall, and teaches her everything she doesn't know about the world, and netrunning, in the 50 years she's been stuck deep within Cyberspace so he won't get absorbed.

After almost 10 months in irl time (which means years in Cyberspace), Alt trusts Vaea. He's free to fight off everyone trying to breach their space. Independent hackers, mostly.

Until one day, Netwatch tries to make contact. They know he's not Alt. They know he's V. They make a deal: V's escape back to the real world as an AI against info on Alt and her space. He accepts.

Except he tells them lies, except Netwatch had planned to sell him right back to Arasaka. He's not human anymore. He's got no rights anymore. He's just into a netrunning killing machine, in exchange of Kerry and Johnny's safety.

Learning they're still alive, Vaea tries to make contact with them. He's punished the second he hears Kerry's voice on the holo.

He's tasked with various meaningless gigs… until one day he's asked to take the Afterlife off the map. Forever. A bomb, how poetic. And Vaea does, not to lose his loved ones. But Rogue survives, and that can't do. Vaea is sent down to finish the job.

Except she wasn't alone. Johnny was with her. In a single glance and a few words, they recognize each other. Their minds are still in sync. Johnny quickly understands in crypted words he's forced to do it. He incapacitates Vaea and, with Vik's help, rips everything branded Arasaka off this new body of his.

They need to find a way to free Vaea from Arasaka. They try the usual way at first: through violence. When it doesn't work, and they both almost die, Kerry has enough, and takes it the legal way. He acquires Vaea (since he's an AI now, he's more an object than a human legally) in exchange of putting some money into Arasaka's dwindling stocks. Michiko agrees (both Yorinobu and Hanako died in this timeline), maybe because she's also threatened. The two others won't stop until Vaea's free, and wouldn't mind ending the Arasaka lineage with her death in the process.

And what about Johnny's crimes, huh? Well, they settle on the fact that this Johnny's just an AI as well, not the real one. This Johnny's Arasaka tech, just like Vaea is, and why would Arasaka trial their own tech? Do they want the public to think the Relic program isn't safe?

Next came the body issue: V was in a decaying body, Johnny was in V's body.

For V, he used the knowledge he gathered from Alt and, with the help of other netrunners (8ug, Sandra and Nix), they made their own version of Soulkiller.

For Johnny, they went to Lizzy Wizzy's ripperdoc, who made Johnny a new skinsuit made of RealSkinn and metal.

They were both Soulkilled, so Vaea could regain his body, and Johnny get into his new one. The process wasn't perfect. Vaea lost some abilities to speak French (he still can, but forgot lots of words and grammar), Johnny lost some abilities to play the guitar (he still can, but often has to pause, look at what his fingers are doing, etc.)

Johnny was fine (albeit a little traumatized with a second time Soulkilled). Vaea's mind was severely damaged. He had to get a neural implant to function normally.

And that's about it, I think 😌

#sorry it's so long #(and i had to skip everything about v. johnny. and kerry's relationship in the process 🤣)#cyberpunk 2077 #oc: vaea temarii #ps: yeah he was a marty stu for like... a few hours 🤣

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adarlingwrites · 2 years ago

Text

A Devilish Distraction

Summary:

Fortune needs an escape from the world's madness, and Raphael is more than happy to distract her.

Words: 2409

Relationships: Raphael x OC/Raphael x Tav

Date of Original Publication (AO3): January 21, 2023

Tags/Warnings: Adult content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot (Okay there is a plot if you squint hard enough), Brat taming, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Begging, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Love/Hate, Master/Servant, Emotional Manipulation, Fluffy Ending (if you squint hard enough), Not Beta Read, One Shot

Author's Notes:

Something short and self-indulgent that I wrote in one sitting because *I* needed to get my mind off of things. Enjoy the filth!

Right, so, after some digging I managed to figure out who Raphael's voice actor is, and apparently, he narrates audiobooks. Lots of them, including game novels. The ending might've been a small nod to that, and my desire to hear him narrate old D&D novels and publications. The book in the end is from the first page of Cormyr: A Novel, seeing how Raphael's dialogue has references to it, hihi

Today, Raphael is taking things slow, befitting of a slow week.

Save for collecting from one client who was overdue his payment, there wasn’t much excitement during the day. Raphael went on to toy around with his lanceboard set, pondering moves the entire afternoon, then he went to have a light supper alone. It’s already several hours past sundown, and stars glitter in the black skies above. A brief look outside his window reminds the cambion of his favorite client… and favorite lover.

He takes a moment to remember the night they shared together- truly a delightful time he won’t forget any time soon.

The morning after that night of pleasure wasn’t so pleasant.

The tiefling was incensed to have found herself branded with hellfire, and tricked into a verbal contract. Raphael was intentionally vague when he goaded her into saying that she is his; it could mean several things. If it makes Fortune his servant, gives him access to her delightful body for all of his carnal needs, or if it gives him ownership of her soul… it all depends on interpretation, and it works in his favor as always.

Then, she ran off. It seems that the act hasn’t broken the contract, though.

Has she come to accept that she does belong to me now?

She’ll be back. Right?

Before he can lose his entire evening in either decadent fantasies or spiraling thoughts, he busies himself with a book to take his mind off of her.

Reading did work. Raphael found himself lost in the intricacies of the novel’s plot, engrossed and invested in the story, the memory of the tiefling woman pushed aside.

A knock interrupts Raphael’s reading. With slight annoyance, he calls out. “Yes?”

Korrilla answers. “Master, Miss Fortune is back.”

Raphael’s annoyance is swiftly replaced with smug satisfaction. “Ah, it was only a matter of time.”

“I have to warn you sir, she’s not in the best spirits.”

“I see she’s still upset about the contract.”

“That, I am unsure of. Perhaps it’s best that you see her for yourself, master.”

The devil raises an eyebrow. He places a bookmark between the pages and closes the book shut. He puts on his perfume, and straightens his jerkin on his way to meet his guest.

Raphael had expected to meet Fortune the way they parted: fuming, and spitting hellfire with that saucy mouth of hers. Instead, puffy eyes and a twitching mouth greet him. Fortune’s careworn features shift into a pathetic attempt to restrain the trepidation she no doubt feels right now.

“Ah, Fortune my dear girl, I knew you’d be back! A pleasant evening to you,” he greets her, arms extended and palms open. “What brings you back to the House of Hope? I take you’re still willing to uphold your end of the bargain?”

The tiefling’s posture is much more reserved, her arms around herself. “I wanted to be alone.”

Raphael chuckles. “You’re hardly alone with me, my dear.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need time away from my compatriots, else I might go mad.”

“The pressures of leadership getting to your head?”

“Look, don’t make me regret coming here. I just want a moment to myself, to get away from things, from the tadpole, from making sure Gale doesn’t blow up and leave a crater the size of a city, from making sure Shadowheart and Lae’zel doesn’t kill each other, from making sure Astarion keeps his hunger in check- “

“Ah, you don’t want to be alone then. You want a distraction.”

“I- well, fine, yes. And you’re the only one I can come to. You said you’d give me what I want and more, when you tricked me into agreeing to that verbal contract while we were… in the throes of passion.”

Both of them paused for a moment, remembering that night. Without saying another word, Raphael and Fortune’s bodies collided, their basest instincts inflamed. The devil laughs in amusement against the tiefling’s mouth as she hungrily sought him out, all her frustration going into the torrid lock of lips. Tongues dance, and the fires inside them burn brighter.

With ease, Raphael sweeps Fortune off her feet, and she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries her to his study, articles of clothing flying off as she practically tore them away from her body, and his. Raphael will need to send his doublet to a tailor to have the buttons mended, but he doesn’t care to think of it right now. Right now, this was just the excitement that he needed after that languid afternoon.

“You said I can have what my heart desires, right?” Fortune hisses as Raphael sets her on the desk, breathless. “Then fuck me hard. Hurt me. Make me forget my troubles.”

“Such coarse language,” Raphael teases, his mouth pressed against her cheek, near her ear. “If you want this, love, you have to ask nicer than that.”

“Bastard.”

“Is this how you address your master?” Raphael asks, pulling away and gripping Fortune by the jaw with his clawed hand. The gooseflesh rippling on her bare skin gives away that she’s enjoying it.

“I don’t have time for your games! I just need it raw and rough right now- “

“But I have plenty of time for them. Remember,” Raphael pauses to lean in close, and he growls into her ear.

“You’re mine. And what’s mine is something I will enjoy on my terms.”

Fiendish hands manhandle the rogue’s petite form, and Fortune finds her cheek pressed against the polished hardwood of Raphael’s desk. The same hands pull away at her smallclothes, leaving her bare. Cloth shifts from behind her, and her thighs rub together in anticipation.

With a few swift tugs, Raphael’s manhood grows into its full size, and he poises it just outside of Fortune’s entrance, already glistening with arousal.

“Beg for it,” Raphael demands, rubbing the head against her folds teasingly, intentionally avoiding the swelling bud of pleasurable nerves.

“Damn you,” Fortune snaps, trying to push herself against him, but a hand swiftly smacks her behind as discipline, then keeps her firm against the table.

“We can do this all night, sweet cherry. I can watch you squirm and cry underneath me as I leave you empty and wanting,” he casually teases, almost in a sing-song manner. Then, he presses chest against Fortune’s back, and one clawed hand snakes around her neck, nails digging into the thin, sensitive flesh.

Voice dropping to a growl, he commands. “Or, you could do as I say. Beg. For. It.”

With a defeated moan, Fortune obliges. “Raphael, fuck me.”

Another smack on her behind leaves her breathless and wailing.

“You can do better than that.”

“Raphael, please, I need you.”

Smack.

“Gods damn it I- Raphael please, I need you inside me.”

Smack.

“I need your cock inside me! Please, please, fuck me already- “

Smack.

“Raphael!”

Smack.

“Raphael, master, please, I need you, I need your cock- “

Raphael’s hand soothes the maroon marks blooming on her skin. “There, you’re learning,” he croons. Then, his voice is hard and stern again. “Beg harder, little brat. Show me how much you need me.”

Smack.

“Master! Please! I need you, I need you! You’re the only one I need!”

The tiefling babbled and whined until tears were streaming down her face, her derriere thoroughly abused by Raphael’s spanking. The sound of his palm hitting her flesh resounded in the study in conjunction with her pitiful cries. As he heard her sniffles, only then did Raphael relent.

“You speak like a beast in your master’s presence, then you shall be taken like one.”

Without giving her a moment to prepare, Raphael enters her. The pull her grip has on his skin despite her ample lubrication makes him hiss, and she cries out underneath him- in ecstasy or in pain, it did not matter.

The hard edges of the cambion’s hips snapped and slapped against the soft flesh as they rutted away, gruff moans and growls rumbling from his chest as he took her like a bitch in heat. Fortune is barely coherent as she surrenders to her master’s cruel, delightful ministrations, one hand going between her legs to desperately rub her neglected bud of nerves.

“Yes! Faster, harder, please master, I need it!”

From her hips, Raphael’s hands fly to his lover’s breasts, and he proceeds to toy with them, rolling her nipples, tugging at them, and cruelly squeezing enough to hurt. With his lips, Raphael begins to assault that spot between her neck and ear where he had branded her, and Fortune’s vocabulary ceases to exist. All that is left from her mouth are various sounds of strained pleasure.

Raphael is nothing short of amused at her reactions. Fortune looks up to him with a feverish grin. It only spurred him on.

“Oh my, you’re thoroughly enjoying this! You want this, Fortune? You love acting like a brat so you can have your bottom spanked and be at the mercy of your master?”

A wicked grin sweeps across the cambion’s face as she nods several times.

“You know just how to bring the beast out of a man, don’t you?”

Pushing the tiefling against the polished hardwood, Raphael angles his hips.

Raphael’s pace was already cruel. Now, it’s almost inhuman.

A scream ripping from her lungs, Fortune throws her head back, dark curls bouncing as she did. Raphael coils those around his free hand, pulling on her locks. The only word he could discern from her incoherent cries is a long, drawn out “Yes!”

“Then take it like a beast, take it, take it! Cheeky little brat, you came here just to feel me inside you again, didn’t you? You want my seed dripping down your thighs after I breed you, is that it? To be reduced to a squirming, quivering mess of a whore?”

Fortune nods several times, but the lack of a verbal response earns her a vicious tug on her locks.

“Yes! Master, please, breed me, I need you!”

“Then earn it,” Raphael grunts, the new angle of his hips hitting that spot inside of her that brings so much ecstasy and agony. Raphael pulls Fortune to his chest, and looks into the void of her eyes.

“Come for me.”

Raphael puts the command on repeat, voice gruff and strained from his own pleasure as he held off his own high until he gets exactly what he wanted from her. His knuckles are turning white as he gripped her hips, sweat drenching his body and mingling with his perfume. His hair, normally slicked back immaculately against his horned head, is tousled from their activities, and the look of agonized pleasure distorts his infernal features. Dark, heavy desire swirls in his hellfire eyes.

Seeing him like this sent Fortune over the edge.

Her long drawn out cry echoes in the study as her release seizes her. Her quivering flesh almost sends Raphael to his own release, but he holds back for a few more moments.

“Say that you love your master,” he groans into her ear, almost desperately. “Tell me you love me.”

Voice broken, Fortune whispers it like a shameful secret. “I love you.”

It’s just what Raphael needed.

The devil groans and roars as he spends himself inside his lover, and he reaches down to the bags of flesh that hung behind his length, squeezing himself as he emptied every last drop of his seed into her. Body slumping forward, he breathes heavily into Fortune’s skin, planting adoring kisses all over her cherry complexion. Both of them stayed like that for a moment, basking in the elated silence.

Raphael is the first to break it.

“I’ll have your chambers ready. I’ll be staying up to read tonight.”

After sending Fortune away and tending to himself, the devil sits in the armchair of his study once more, ready to continue where he left off. Peckish, he tucks into a late-night snack tray of bread, cheese, deli meats, and of course, cherries, alongside cognac for a nightcap, set up by Korrilla while he was cleaning up.

It wasn’t long until he heard another knock on his door.

Sighing, he just gave up on reading altogether. “Come in.”

It’s Fortune, looking drowsy, skin freshly scrubbed, and in her nightgown.

“Haven’t I… distracted you enough, my dear?”

“I actually came here to thank you for that.”

“Hmm. None needed. I’m just upholding my end of the bargain, sweet one.”

Wordlessly, Fortune toddles up to him, and curls up in his lap. She helps herself to the assortment of food on his table, feeling peckish from their activities too.

“You said you were reading,” she said after a few bites.

“Yes, darling. I was.”

“If it doesn’t trouble you, can you start from the beginning and read to me?”

Raphael chortles. “You want a bedtime story? I’m your lover, not your father.”

“You told me you’d give me anything I want...”

“Clever girl. I expected that you’ll milk our agreement for all its worth.”

“I could milk something else…” Fortune purrs, shifting her hips slightly to brush against his manhood.

“Such a tease… Insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only for you. But right now, I just want to hear your voice. Please?”

Fortune plants a row of sweet, chaste kisses along his jawline. Raphael doesn’t question it, nor does he stop her, but that unsettling feeling of foreign tenderness stirs in his chest once more.

The devil gives his clients material things, influence, and fiendish powers. He gives his mistresses petty trinkets, decadent dinners, and bouquets of flowers that will wilt in a few days. Raphael could provide it all… almost all.

Fortune was right in her doubt that he can give her what she really wanted. Had he known that little intimacies and stolen moments of tenderness are the things she craved deeply, he would have thought twice. He would have been more careful with his wording.

“I’ll give you the things you desire, and more.” What was I thinking? What if the girl asks for- Hells. This might be a contract I might have to render void later…

However, right now, he’s keeping true to his word.

And so, after taking a sip of his cognac, he picks up the book, and opens it on the first page.

“Prologue: The Dragon's Land. A Time Before the Years Were Named, -400 DR. Thauglor, King of the Forest Country, turned in a low, banking dive…”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 raphael #baldur's gate raphael #raphael baldur's gate #baldur's gate #OC: Fortune #fanfiction #raphael x oc #raphael x tav #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfic

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toujokaname · 2 years ago

Text

Tatsumi Kazehaya Idol Story 1

Author: Akira

Characters: Tatsumi

"But. It would be nice to have at least one person who helps others even if there'd be nothing to be gained from it."

Directory ✧ Next →

Season: Spring

Location: In Front of the Hospital

Tatsumi: (Mm. Thank goodness, I can rest easy for now.)

(The bone is mostly healed, and the scar has almost completely faded. It seems I still need to go to the hospital for further checkups, but it's safe to say that I've made a complete recovery.)

(Recent medical technology is wonderful. In this modern age, relying on human beings leads to much better results than praying to God.)

(It's been a little over a year since that accident... Such a long time.)

(Since I haven't been able to attend school, things seem to have changed in many ways. It makes me feel as if I were Urashima Tarō[1].)

(I wonder how everyone is doing. I'm worried... For some reason, those who are idols tend to be clumsy when it comes to living.)

(...Mm?)

Tatsumi: Excuse me, young lady. You dropped something.

Yes, your wallet... I'm glad I noticed. Here you go, I picked it up.

Right. Be careful not to lose it, money is important.

Fufu. No, there's no need to thank me... It's my duty as a priest to help people.

Mm? Yes, you probably don't know this, but... I'm the pastor of a church a few blocks from here.

Oops, calling myself that when I'm outside isn't allowed. Emm, I'm like the senior priest of a Shinto shrine... U~m, it's hard to explain.

Well, I'm the son of a Shinto shrine. So, I tend to behave in a religious way by nature.

Fufu. It's not anything suspicious, so please don't worry.

Yes. Right, then... I shall take my leave now. May God bless you too, Amen ♪

Tatsumi: .........

...Um, is something wrong? Excuse me for saying this, but you don't look so good.

If you were near the hospital, does that mean you have some kind of physical disability...?

If you feel unwell, please don't move, I'll carry you to the hospital.

Mm? Huh, you can't find the IC card you left chained to your wallet...?

IC card... Is that an important thing?

I'm sorry, I've been in the hospital for a long time, and I'm out of touch with worldly affairs, so I don't really understand when you tell me something new like that.

Hm. Is it something similar to a ticket or a commuter pass? Aah, that is important, then.

If you don't have it, you can't get on a train and go home... Is it something like that?

That would be terrible. If you'd like, I could help you find... that IC card you speak of.

Tatsumi: Please leave it to me. Finding lost items is my specialty.

Hm. You say you were watching an Idol Live a short while ago?

So then, you think the chain might've broken when you and the other audience members got jostled together?

I understand. Yes, it is very likely. Where is the live venue located? Let's go there and look for the IC card.

Mm? There's no need?

You have enough money to buy a ticket, and you can use your smartphone instead of an IC card? So, it's okay because you only lost a little bit of money?

Is that so? Hm, if you say so, then I suppose it must be true.

Fufu. Perhaps I got too serious, and inconvenienced you... If there's no problem, then I'm glad. That will give me peace of mind too.

Then, if you'll excuse me. I have to go to the morning worship service... Yes, please be careful not to drop your wallet again.

Fufu. If you encounter any trouble on your way home, please yell out for help. If your voice is within my hearing range, I will come to your rescue.

Tatsumi: Mm? Why am I willing to go to such lengths, you ask?

My apologies, it's not as if I have an ulterior motive...

If you're overly kind to strangers, for some reason, they will be wary of you instead.

I suppose it's because we live in a world where God's love has not yet spread to every corner of the world, and where everyone lies to and entraps each other.

Tatsumi: But. It would be nice to have at least one person who helps others even if there'd be nothing to be gained from it. ...No, that's precisely what the duty of a priest is.

Urashima Tarō is a story about a fisherman that saves a turtle, who turns out to be a princess. He gets taken to the Palace of the Dragon God, where he spends what he believes is a few days with the princess. However, when he gets back to his hometown, hundreds of years have passed, and everything in his life changed.

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#akira #idol story #tatsumi

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tooweirdforyou · 4 years ago

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Straw Hats With A Suicidal! Shipmate

message @pixelkittycomet » Hi, I love your stories/scenarios. I has an idea for my one piece fan character, (this is a bit touchy so idk) but I was curious how do you think luffy and the straw hats would react if their y/n crew mate tried to take their own life? Like they caught them just in time or something? Sorry if it's too serious.

Hello! First of all, thank you. And second, I wasn’t sure if this was a request, I don’t think it is- and I also took a look at your character and I think it’s really good. Also, wasn’t sure if you wanted together or separate.

I won’t dwell too much into this topic, since it’s very sensitive. I also changed it up a little bit. I did do something similar to this before though.

WARNING : mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, methods of suicide, self-harm, etc.

PLEASE USE CAUTION! NEGATIVITY AHEAD! PLEASE BE CAREFUL! I WILL NOT BE WRITING ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN, I hope.

Luffy

LUFFY wouldn’t quite understand. He’s never had to lose a loved one like this before..

“[Name]?.. what are you doing?”

The loud gasp that escapes your lips is heard as you snap up with wide eyes and turn around to face your Captain, who’s staring at you with eyes just as wide as yours.

“Why are your hands bleeding? Did you get hurt?” His clueless tone and the tilt of his head makes your heart pound against your chest, quickly shifting to hide your hands from his sight.

“Luffy!- blood? I, I don’t see any blood. I’m fine, really. Why are you here again?”

“I.. came to see what the noise of crying was coming from.” He mutters out almost inaudibly, his eyes widening by the second at the slow realization.

You, hiding your hands with teary, puffy red eyes and the bloody water filled sink.

The first thing Luffy felt was rage.

You, of all people, were thinking of doing something like this? What could be so horrible to take it this far and deliberately hurting yourself?

And why didn’t he see this sooner, so he could stop it?

But instead of lashing out at you, he lowers his head to hide his face, and slowly walks towards you, before eventually jumping at you, and lunging to wrap his arms around your body, forcing the two of you onto the floor.

With his tight embrace around you, Luffy leans into your ear and you were able to hear his weak voice to you.

“I’m sorry..for not noticing sooner.. so please..” his voice cracks and you sensed he was crying with his frail, trembling voice.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore..”

Nami

Nami wouldn’t even know how to react, she’s just stunned but once realization hits, genuine fear and panic flashes in her eyes and she’s yelling at you desperately.

The navigator was simply hoping to rest and relax in the aquarium lounge.

So when she walks through the door, she’s not expecting the sight of you trying to take your own life.

“W-What are you doing...?!”

Quick to react, Nami pulls out her Clima-Tact and fires a lightning bolt towards the suspended tied rope before you could even stick your head through the loop, successfully burning the rope.

“Nami! What are you doing here? Why’d you do that?!”

Hearing you made her scoff in disbelief, glaring at you through her quick teary eyes.

“You’re asking me why I did that?! Are you listening to yourself?!”

If you still didn’t listen and insisted on arguing, Nami doesn’t hesitate to slap some sense into you.

“HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE!?”

It would be silent as soon as she slapped you.

“I can’t believe you’d even think about this!”

Her voice is weak and she’s trembling, yet her cries and glares didn’t falter for a second.

Tears continue to stream down her face as she wipes them away, before she lunges herself at you.

“Are you trying to make us suffer by doing this?! Did you even care to think how we feel? How I’d feel?..”

Her lectures didn’t stop, even through her sobs.

“Don’t you.. EVER, think about doing this again! Okay?!.. just.. just come talk to me.. you idiot..”

Zoro

Zoro tends to yell because he doesn’t know how else to comfort or cope, and it’s just the stress he’s feeling from almost losing you.

The swordsman let out a heavy sigh as he climbs up to the crows nest after taking a quick break for a drink.

As soon as his head pops up through the little door to enter, he’s startled to find you, playing with one of his swords.

Specifically, the Wado Ichimonji.

Though, perhaps “playing” wasn’t the correct term. Either way, the sight of you angling it towards your neck to slice was something that instilled pure paralyzation and shock into him.

“What..-“ Zoro sprung into action, immediately jumping to push the sword away from you, shoving you away and onto the couch of the crows nest.

The impact forced into you from the shove made you grunt, knocking the air out of your lungs as you peer up at your assailant.

“Zoro? What are you doing?!”

“That’s my line, dumbass! What the hell was that just now?! Huh?! Were you really planning on taking your own damn life here?!”

“Shut it! You have no idea what I was planning!” You retort and Zoro scoffs. “I think I had a pretty good idea.”

“Tch. Even then, it’s not your problem!-”

“Of course it’s my fucking problem, [Name]!” That shut you up.

Zoro let out a deep breath and stared at you with his piercing eyes.

“Did you even think about how the people on this ship would feel? If they saw you doing something like this?.. what about Luffy? Did you give a damn about how our dear captain would react if his precious crew member, that he took the time to know and recruit to his crew, took their own life without an explanation?”

You didn’t say anything. You felt the tears brimming your eyes at him but you couldn’t say anything.

“Damn it, [Name]..” The swordsman looks down, shadow casted over his eyes and the clenched fists he had made his nails dig into his skin, veins forming.

Eventually, he slowly relaxes and walks to you, seeing your teary eyes and knelt down in front of you.

“Don’t fucking do this again, okay?.. please.. please don’t leave me alone like this...”

Sanji

Sanji would burst into tears the instant he realized it, all the regret and pain burying itself into him for not noticing your pain. He’ll beg you to stop. But he’ll definitely be yelling / comforting too.

The chef who wakes early to get started on breakfast for the day, whistles a quiet tune while brushing away the morning drowsiness.

And due to his exhaustion, when he opens the kitchen door, he doesn’t believe his eyes at first, but a quick second glance lets him know it’s real.

Seeing you, standing over the sink with a common kitchen knife ready to cut. Definitely not vegetables.

“[N-Name]-chan... what..”

The panicked expression you held while you snapped your head up towards him made his heart break.

“Sanji! You’re up early..” Sanji watches as you frantically move to hide the knife and rinse your hands, as if you were merely washing up.

“I just thought I’d help you out a little bit is all! Since you’re here, let’s get started, yeah?” You let out a awkward, nervous laugh and turn off the water.

Sanji felt tears brimming his eyes when he realized just what you were about to do. “[Name]-chan.. were you.. just..”

He’s in utter shock and disbelief, the pained look his eyes held made your heart sink to your stomach at the sight.

“How can you do this? What happened? What made you even think of doing this?”

Sanji didn’t hesitate to rush to you, grabbing you by your shoulders and tightening his grip. “Tell me, [Name]! How can you go so far as to attempt to do this?!”

Tears are cascading down his cheeks rapidly, before he pulls you into his chest in a tight embrace.

“Please don’t lose value in your life like this, [Name]-chan.. you deserve to live.. don’t take this for granted..”

Sanji can feel his shirt start to get wet but he didn’t care, rubbing your back and hiding his teary face. “Whatever it is you’re suffering from, i will help you through it. I promise.”

Usopp

Usopp would be frozen and panicking in the spot, before shouting at you with pleas and blabbers, before forcing you by tackling you to the ground.

Seeing you standing on the edge of the railing catches the sniper off guard. He was simply leaving his room to go to the bathroom when he sees you.

The moonlight is shining down on your form, and if Usopp wasn’t so concerned and didn’t have a sinking feeling at the sight of you, he might’ve thought you were a goddess.

“[Name]? What are you doing up? Get down before you fall!”

Upon being deeply lost in thought, you barely heard Usopp’s voice but managed to catch it.

You turn around to face the sniper and you offer a weak, teary smile which startles the poor guy. “..Usopp.. I should ask you that.”

Instead of responding, he widens his eyes and runs over. “Hey, were you crying?.. why? What’s wrong, [Name]? Should I go wake the others? Or chopper?” He was internally panicking.

“I’m fine.” You cut him off and turn back to the sea, shifting your weight as your smile fades and you stare at the water below you solemnly.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Usopp, surprised, nonetheless nods and leans against the railing beside you, still hoping you’d come down.

“Usopp... will you.. let me die?.. will you kill me?”

Silence.

Frozen.

His body froze. His mind blanked. His blood stopped circulating. Nothing could be heard but the ocean waves washing around the sea.

Immediately, Usopp did the first thing that came to mind and ran at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your legs to prevent you from what he assumed was jumping.

“STOP! I WON’T EVER DO THAT! DON’T SAY STUPID THINGS LIKE THIS! HOW CAN YOU SAY THIS AFTER EVERYTHING WE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER?! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, [NAME]!”

Loud sobs were quick to escape the sniper’s mouth as snot and tears cascades down his face, roughly pulling you and tackling you down to the ship’s deck so you weren’t on the railing anymore.

“Agh- Usopp—“

“PLEASE DON’T EVER THINK THIS WAY AGAIN! I...” Usopp stares down at you before shutting his eyes tightly, tears flowing nonstops, his grip around you unmoving, as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you..”

Chopper

Chopper would be screaming and sobbing endlessly, hugging your leg as his desperate pleas reach your ears.

Humming a sweet tune, with a carton of milk in his hoofs, the little doctor steps into his medical office and instantly, his once bright smile drops into a look of horror.

“[NAME]!”

Milk tossed aside, Chopper is quick to come bouncing by you slouched over, a half-empty flask of a green liquid in hand and your shallow breathing behind heard.

“Ch..Chopper.. hi..”

The little reindeer has pure fear lit in his eyes as he takes the flask from your hands and looks to see what’s in it.

“Why did you touch this?! This is a dangerous chemical, [Name]!” Chopper panics, fumbling through his book to find a quick antidote, ignoring your weak protests.

How could you go through his things and drink the deadly chemical?!

“Chopper, stop..”

The little doctor wasn’t listening, tears blocking his vision as he tried to read the words and began mixing some of his liquids together to begin working.

“This,.. and this.. no, this isn’t right-! Where’s Traffy when I need him!?” Chopper cries as he frantically mixes the liquid, eyes flashing towards you in worry.

You didn’t say anything, closing your eyes and felt sweat forming on your forehead and felt your temperature raising.

Weakly, you manage to wrap your arms around Chopper’s little body and hugged him like a stuffed animal.

“Thank you, Chopper... I appreciate it.. but.. I’m fine.”

“[Name]...”

Choked sobs slipped from his mouth as he grips the flask tightly, persistent in finding the cure for you.

The chemical you took wasn’t completely unknown but it was still foreign enough to Chopper that he didn’t know how long you had or how deadly it even was.

“I’m not giving up. I don’t want you to die! I don’t know or care what brought you to do something as drastic as this. But YOU’RE MY FRIEND! and I don’t want you to leave me alone!”

“So please... don’t die, [Name]..”

Franky

The silence Franky has is painful, he’s feeling mixed emotions at the thought of losing someone dear to him again. He’s angry, clearly but he doesn’t yell at you. Instead, he shares his thoughts.

The cyborg stare solemnly, his sharp eyes boring right into your slouched, teary, and sobbing figure.

The blade that was once in your hands was now discarded, unused and forgotten. Franky made sure of that last second.

He walks up to you, looming over you from behind as he pulls out a tissue with his mini hand and holds it out for you to take, still keeping silent since he came in.

You eased your sobs a bit and muttered a quiet gratitude before taking the tissue. You weren’t sure what Franky was thinking and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

“..feeling better?”

A startled pause came from you as you froze for a second before relaxing and nodding. “..yeah.”

“Good.”

“Franky.. I-“

“I don’t need to know.”

Interrupting you, Franky continues to look at you before going around and sitting on the ground in front of your form so you would face him.

“I don’t know why you did this. I don’t need to know either, but if you want to tell me, I’ll listen. However, I won’t apologize for what I did just now, I won’t ever let you hurt yourself like that when I’m here.”

You stay quiet, letting Franky continue but his words are enough to make you start tearing up again.

“A life is not a choice. You should value it and keep living for the ones you love and for the ones that love you. Everyone on this ship is a loved one that cares about you and I’m sure you’re aware of that, but you must’ve forgotten. It’s okay to forget that though, because I’ll be here to remind you. Understand? No one on this ship wants you to do this ever. We love you more than you know.”

Wiping the shedding tears that continue to escape, you peer up at Franky and see him offering a genuine, assuring smile.

“So don’t do this again and live. You got an amazingly crafted and you are part of this SUPER~ pirate crew, the Straw Hats!”

Robin

Even if this has nothing to do with her whatsoever, Robin will never forget nor live down the guilt and regret of letting you even thinking about doing something like this.

Unable to sleep, the archaeologists was simply resting on her lawn chair on the upper deck, where her beautiful flowers laid.

Robin, resting her eyes as the sunset settles in the bay of the ocean, slowly disappearing. However, the quiet patter of footsteps creaking onto the upper deck made her open her eyes.

With one glance, Robin was able to see your figure quietly heading to a particular area of the garden, which was Usopp’s large plants, and also a view blocker.

Robin furrows her brows and quietly sat up, crossing her arms and shut her eyes, quickly forming a pair of eyes near you.

The sight of you hunched over, plucking at one of Usopp’s plants makes her eyes widen as she quickly sprouts arms.

“Cinco Fleur!”

Instantly, two pairs of arms formed and forcefully grabbed your wrists apart, a third pulling Usopp’s plant away from you and two more forcing you to back up.

“What the hell?!” You curse and struggled in the movement. “Robin?!”

“[Name]! What are you doing messing with Usopp’s poisonous plants?”

The historian shows herself to you as she continues to hold you in a bind, so you wouldn’t move. The pained and confused expression on her face almost makes you feel guilty, for you withheld.

“Poisonous? O-Oh, I had no idea. I thought they were vegetables!— Anyways why are you awake at this time??”

“I should be asking you that, picking vegetables at this hour?..” Robin mutters skeptically, tilting her head as her expression saddens.

“Don’t tell me you were...”

The turn of your head and avoidance of her gaze let her know your true intentions and she can almost hear her heart breaking.

“why?..”

You didn’t say anything and clenched your fists tightly, shutting your eyes and ignored the fact that she had released you.

“I’m sorry, Robin.. I can’t do this anymore..”

“To go this far? I didn’t think..” she continues to trail off, her eyes quickly becoming glassy and lost, painful memories of her own suicidal thoughts arising.

Robin sinks down to her knees and brings her hands to her face, tears brimming her eyes. “I don’t want you to do this, [Name].. you deserve so much and.. I want to keep seeing you on this ship.. I’m sorry.. I want you to keep living but I caused you to..”

Guilt became overbearing and you ran to her aside, engulfing her in a tight embrace, sniffling your own tears.

“Don’t, I’m sorry. For doing something so stupid with my life...”

Robin exhales gently and wipes her tears, looking up at you. “Say it.. please?”

You offer a small, genuine smile and nod.

“I want to live... I mean it.”

Brook

Brook feels great pain and sorrowful memories run through his mind, the thought of losing more precious people to him breaks his nonexistent heart.

The undead musician exits the bath, a towel wrapped around his hip bone to cover his lower regions and a towel tied around his hair at the top.

“Ah~ another refreshing wash from the bath.. I wonder how it’ll feel to bathe in a tub of milk.”

Brook’s walk was cut short as he notices you, attempting something quite dangerous that not even Luffy would try. Yet, something about it was familiar.

His eye sockets widen as he runs over. “[Name]-san!” Hearing the familiar voice, your startled self drops the object and it shatters instantly.

“Brook! You scared me!”

“Apologies... may I ask you what you were doing with that?..” Brook carefully asks, taking note of every action you made. He could feel how serious this seemed.

You bit your lip and turn away, kneeling down to pick up the pieces. “Nothing.. I just...”

‘Ah... I see.’

Distracted, you nearly jump when a few phalanges grab a hold of your wrist.

Brook’s tight grip forced your hold on the shattered pieces to release as he pulls it away and pulled you away from the mess.

“...” Even if you didn’t tell him, Brook already had a pretty good idea. He wasn’t stupid after all, his own crewmates often did similar things and it costed them their lives.

However, he could tell yours was intentional.

“Your life means more than you think.”

The skeleton spoke this as he begins to lead you to Chopper’s office, noticing you had cut your hand a bit.

“I don’t understand why anyone would take their own life deliberately like so.. no matter what the possible reason could be.. nothing is worth the attempt to take a life so precious, that you only have one of..”

Silence overtook you as you take in his words, feeling a swarm of emotions filling you inside.

“I won’t ask what’s going on but know that I and everyone else is always willing to listen...”

Outside Chopper’s office, Brook stops and turns to look down at you.

“[Name]-san. I’m sure you remember my backstory, right?”

You weakly nod, avoiding his gaze which he didn’t mind.

“Then you know that I am actually dead. However, I didn’t choose to die. Life chose for me.. and even with this devil fruit, I am given another chance at life, but at a cost.”

Tears were finally escaping you, silent sniffles being heard here and there as you continue to listen to him.

“Lives are not something to be taken lightly, and even if I am actually dead, I don’t regret this chance and am taking this opportunity to do better and I’m happier too. I’m with a new crew and family who I will protect and take care of, even if I die again to do so. You are one of them I will die for, if I have to.”

“[Name]-san.”

By then, you were a teary mess but that didn’t stop you from looking up at the tall musician as he offers his teethy smile.

“Remember. Your life means so much more than you think, hold more value for it. If you want to talk, I’m always here to listen and if you want a little song, I’m always happy to oblige.”

You muster up a weak smile through your tears as you nod and wrapped your arms around him tightly and gratefully.

“Thank you, Brook..”

His arms wrap around your smaller figure as he leans down more, smile softening as he chuckles.

“Yohohoho~! of course, any time.”

A/N : sorry this took so long, hun. Hope you still can see this when it posted it. I’m also sorry if it’s not great or what you expected.

I think the best one is Brook or Zoro.

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bakubros-boo-thang · 3 years ago

Text

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’ As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.” You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…” The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie. You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.” And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’ He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back. ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers: Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

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etherrreal · 4 years ago

Text

“5:00am”

Pairing: ushijima x reader Genre: fluff Summary: looking back, you’re not sure what made you think that jogging with ushijima would end in anything but complete and utter disaster, but it’s too late to go back now WC: 5k Warnings: brief mentions of non-serious injury, a little blood, implied smut, too many paragraphs about ushijima’s hands A/N: first fic gang! this was supposed to be like 500 words but as the blog title suggests, i’m a liar -Dawn

You’re not sure what possesses you to go jogging with Ushijima at the ungodly hour of 5AM –and on a Saturday, no less– but here you are, tugging a windbreaker over your tank top and leggings while he waits for you by the door.

Most of it, you’re sure, is just because you miss him. The two of you have been so busy lately –you with your new job, him with the whole professional volleyball thing– so this is the first weekend in a while that you’ll actually be spending together.

It’s only natural that you want to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriend before your respective commitments are back to pulling you both in opposite directions, as they have more times than you’d like to admit in the past four months you’ve been dating.

Or maybe 5AM-you, lacking caffeine, sleep, and any sense of real judgment, is just losing your mind.

Ushijima certainly seems to think so, if the look he gives you when you volunteer to accompany him on his routine morning jog is any indication. He’s far from the most expressive person you’ve ever dated, but you’ve been with him long enough to register the surprise on his features; the way his pretty olive eyes widen a fraction and the way he pauses to watch you, like he’s trying to gauge how serious you are.

“What?” you ask as you join him by the door, removing your slippers.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You hate running.”

“Running? Absolutely. Jogging, however, I think I can handle, especially if it’s with my handsome boyfriend who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with lately.”

With your slippers out of the way, you move to reach for your sneakers next. A quick glance in his direction confirms that he’s still giving you that same bewildered look, a crease forming between his eyebrows. It makes you falter as you pick up your sneakers, wondering if you’ve made a mistake.

Now that you think about it, he does usually jog on his own. The two of you are no strangers to working out together –if him doing push-ups with you perched comfortably on his back counts as working out– but you’ve never actually joined him on a morning run before.

Is this something he prefers to do alone? Are you overstepping his boundaries by inviting yourself along before checking to see if it was okay? Suddenly, you find yourself wishing you would’ve asked first.

“Do you...not want me to go with you? Because if you’d prefer to go alone, that’s totally fine, I’ll just–”

He catches your wrist before you can put your sneakers back down, and the rest of your sentence is lost somewhere between the fingertips he presses against your skin and the other hand he uses to lift yours.

It’s almost criminal, you think, the way a single touch from him is enough to completely derail your train of thought, whatever you were babbling about suddenly the furthest thing from your mind. You think you shouldn’t be as phased by it by now, not after all the time you’ve spent together, but no such luck.

Really, it’s his hands that are the problem, now that you think about it. His hands, steady and calloused and strong, but still so undeniably gentle and patient when it comes to you.

It’s hard to pick your favorite feature of Ushijima’s when he looks the way he does –all tanned skin, broad shoulders, and chiseled abs– but his hands are pretty high up on your list. They have been from the moment you met him at Iwaizumi’s housewarming party last year.

You had obviously seen him before, though you never actually spoke to him until the party. It was mostly during high school volleyball matches between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa, courtesy of your childhood friendship with Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

You remember spotting Ushijima and thinking he looked so serious and unapproachable, even more imposing than he did in the photos of him featured in that Monthly Volleyball magazine you used to watch Oikawa vandalize with ridiculous-looking mustaches and devil horns.

When you saw Ushijima at Iwaizumi’s party, he still looked serious, not to mention larger and even more intimidating in person, but his hands were warm and kinder than you were expecting, careful in the way they wrapped around yours when he introduced himself. It was only hours later when those same hands reached for yours again to help you off the couch that you realized you spent the whole night with him.

Now, months later, you’re standing with him in his stupidly expensive apartment, half-panicked that you might’ve overestimated his desire to spend time with you. But Ushijima’s hands are still steady and warm against your skin, even now, reassuring in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of.

“I’d love it if you joined me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, and if you weren’t smiling before, then you definitely are now.

You pull on his hand to tug him down towards you, a request that he silently obliges. You perch on your toes to reach him and deliver a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling against his mouth. When you pull away to look at him, you find him smiling, too, in that soft and subtle way of his that you’re so glad he’s chosen to share with you.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he adds. “We’ll be running for a while, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re clumsier than most.”

Sadly, he’s not wrong. You are pretty clumsy, almost cartoonishly so. He’s watched you bang your leg on his dining room table practically every time you pass it, heard you curse to yourself after accidentally knocking down every item in his shower. At this point, holding your arm in his is as natural to him as breathing, just so he’s there to keep you from tripping over your own two feet.

And while you definitely appreciate the concern, you don’t think it’s entirely necessary, at least not for this. Sure, you have a bad habit of falling on your ass more often than not, but you’re also able to do so without sustaining any major injuries. You’re confident this time will be no different.

Besides, it’s just one jog. You’ll survive, even if your muscles might hate you for it later. Still, you know he worries about you, which is why you reach up to give him another quick kiss.

“Deal,” you assure him once you pull away. Then, you grin, voice taking on a more teasing edge as you look up at him. “As long as you promise not to be embarrassed when I leave you in the dust. You know, since I’m just so naturally athletic.”

Ushijima’s never been the best at detecting sarcasm, but with you, like so many other things, it’s different. He can tell you’re joking by the way you giggle and wink at him, and when he huffs out a quiet laugh, you smile and sit down to put on your sneakers.

He surprises you when he kneels to tie them for you before you get the chance to do it yourself.

“Careful, Wakatoshi,” you warn him, not for the first time. “If you keep being so sweet to me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me. You might just be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s fine,” he says, like he’s already considered the consequences before and has chosen to accept them. “You’re the only one I can imagine being with for that long, anyway.”

He moves on to tie the laces on your second sneaker, taking zero responsibility for the way his words make your heart flutter in your chest. He always does this: says stupidly romantic things with barely any prompting and absolutely no consideration or even awareness of the effect they have on you.

His voice doesn’t change when he says them, either. He uses the same blunt tone he always does, like it’s a simple fact, like he’s asking you to pass him his phone charger instead of alluding to a potential future with you.

It just makes you fall that much more in love with him.

Not that you’ve actually told him yet. You’re still waiting for the right moment. You wonder if maybe this might be it, but then he stands up and turns away from you to open the door and the opportunity is gone.

Maybe that’s for the best. This morning, you decide that you can handle jogging with your pro-athlete boyfriend or confessing your love for him, not both. The latter will just have to wait for dinner tonight, assuming you make it back in one piece and your legs don’t just fall off from the sudden exercise.

You stand up and follow him out the door.

Ushijima insists you both take the time to stretch before you actually start running, so you spend a few minutes doing so in the empty lobby. You pretend to struggle with a few of them, just so you’ll have an excuse to have his hands on you.

You’re almost positive he sees through your little ruse, if the amused look he gives you is any indication, but he doesn’t complain, guiding his hands over your body to help you bend and stretch like he can’t see the grin on your face.

Once you’re all warmed up, you’re ready to start jogging. You follow behind him as he leads you along his usual path down the block, the streets noticeably empty, save for the occasional passing car.

You know the only reason you’re able to keep up with him is because he’s slowing down for you, but you don’t let it bother you. He’s a professional athlete, after all, and you’re the kind of person who doesn’t even like to run to catch the bus, so it’s to be expected. Still, you give it your all, remembering to keep your breathing steady just like he taught you.

And you have to admit, your aversion to any sort of cardio aside, jogging with Ushijima is actually kind of fun.

For the first five minutes, at least.

Then it all goes to shit.

You’re not sure how it happens, either. One moment, everything is great. Sure, you’re already feeling a little sweaty, and maybe your lungs are screaming at you just a tiny bit –the price of inactivity, and all that– but you power through it because, in the words of so many great orators before you, mama ain’t raise no bitch.

But then you trip on something –a pothole in the street, your own foot, who the hell knows– and suddenly you’re wiping out for the entire world –or maybe just your boyfriend and that one stray cat you passed, which is still pretty embarrassing– to see.

Ushijima’s quite a few feet ahead of you now, because as much as he tried to slow down for you in the beginning, you figure he just can’t help but speed up a bit. He’s not the type to do anything half-assed, not even a casual morning jog. You’re almost grateful for it in a way, because it means he doesn’t actually see you trip and stumble like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.

He does, however, hear the yelp that escapes your throat, making him glance over his shoulder just in time to see you fall forward. He runs back towards you, but he’s too far to reach you in time, and your knees hit the pavement hard, your hands shooting out to catch yourself as best as you can.

You don’t even have to look to know that the skin on both your knees and your palms is scraped up. There’s also a shooting pain that starts at your ankle and darts right up your leg, reassuring you that you most definitely stepped on it wrong.

Ushijima is by your side in an instant, normally stoic face scrunched up with worry. He helps you twist yourself into a more comfortable position on the sidewalk, though it does little to ease your embarrassment or your annoyance with your own incoordination.

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not entirely the truth. Your palms are stinging and your ankle is throbbing, not to mention the fact that your knees currently resemble a cat’s scratching post. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

The look he gives you is doubtful, and you know for a fact he doesn’t believe you at all. “You’re bleeding.”

And holy crap, you are. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you, since you felt the entire thing, but the sight of the blood on your knees and palms still stuns you a bit.

“Come on.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up with ease you would normally marvel at if it didn’t make you feel so pathetic. “We’re going back. I’ll be able to treat your wounds and take a better look at your ankle.”

“Whaa– but we’ve barely even started jogging!” you protest, pouting despite the stinging of your cuts. “I told you that I’m fine, Toshi. I can still walk–”

You try to put pressure on the ankle you rolled and immediately wince. You almost stumble forward again, but this time Ushijima is there to catch you, holding you against him with his arms around your waist.

“No, you can’t. You need to treat your injuries, so stop being stubborn and let me help you. We’re going back.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyebrows drawing together in frustration –mostly at yourself– but stubborn as you are, you know he’s right. There’s no arguing your way out of this one, not that he would listen to you in the first place. He’s always been protective of you, which means he won’t be budging on this.

You heave a defeated sigh but nod at him anyway, relenting. He helps you hobble along with your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist for a few steps before he seems to think better of it.

In one fluid motion, he’s picking you up in his arms, holding you bridal style against his chest. And while normally his arms are one of your favorite places to be, the fact that he has to carry you like this all because you’re an idiot who can’t watch where you’re going is doing nothing to ease your already damaged pride.

You try to convince him to put you down and let you walk on your own, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t agree. Your face, which is already warm with embarrassment, just seems to heat up even more. Your mortification only increases when you spot his apartment building a few streets later.

God, the two of you were running for what, maybe five minutes? Six? And now you’re already back home? Talk about embarrassing. And right after you promised him to be careful, too.

The fact that the pothole –which you are now deciding to blame for your fall, because you don’t think your ego can handle anything else– had the audacity to trip you and then not immediately swallow you whole to save you this embarrassment is honestly disrespectful, at this point.

Ushijima was right earlier. You do hate running. And you hate yourself even more for believing that jogging at any hour –least of all 5AM– would end in anything other than complete and utter disaster.

Your only consolation is that it’s so early, chances are that no one else saw you trip and almost eat shit in the middle of the street. It’s the little victories that count, you suppose, though you might just have to burn this outfit later to rid yourself of the reminder. You’re not sure how you’re ever going to live this one down.

Thankfully, the universe seems to take some pity on you, since you don’t pass any of Ushijima’s neighbors in the lobby. He maneuvers you into the apartment, managing to close the door behind him and remove his sneakers without putting you down.

When he does finally let you go, it’s to place you delicately on his bed. He disappears from the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit and an ice pack, while you flop defeatedly onto your back against his pillows, pouting.

“I can’t believe I actually fell.” You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he sits beside you, but you still don’t move. “The one time I willingly decide to run, and this is what happens. We didn’t even make it past the supermarket!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone,” he says, opening the first aid kit. His voice is as straightforward as ever, but you know he’s trying to comfort you in his own way. “Besides, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Worse than twisting my ankle and making a fool of myself five minutes in?” You shift to prop yourself up on your elbows and raise an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“You could’ve twisted your ankle and made a fool of yourself two minutes in instead.”

The bluntness of his response makes you snort, cracking a half-smile as you push yourself to sit up fully. “Good point.”

You watch as he gets to work, mesmerized by how careful he is with you. He takes your palms in his hands, wiping away the blood gently and cleaning the small scratches it reveals. The scrapes on your knees, which he moves to next, sting more, but he moves slowly enough that it doesn’t overwhelm you. He’s always taken such good care of you, and this time is no different.

After all of your scrapes are covered, he examines your ankle, which is unsurprisingly the worst of your injuries. When he helps you tug your sneaker and sock off, you can both see it’s already swelling.

It’s not broken, he assures you, but it is lightly sprained. You’ll need to rest and compress it until you’re ready to walk on it again, but the ice should help with the swelling. He lifts your ankle on top of a few pillows to keep it elevated, covering it with the ice pack.

He moves higher up on the bed to sit beside you against the headboard, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “How does that feel?”

“It still hurts, but it’s not as bad as before,” you answer. “Honestly, I think my pride is more damaged than anything else.”

You lean back against the pillows propped up on his headboard and sigh, unable to stop the guilty frown tugging at your lips. As grateful as you are for his help, you also feel really bad that he had to stop and take care of you at all.

If you hadn’t insisted on joining him on his run, then none of this would’ve happened. You would still have two normal-sized ankles, and he would be able to finish his run without having to worry about you and your chronic clumsiness.

“I’m sorry I ruined our jog,” you find yourself apologizing, fiddling with the hem of your shirt guiltily. “It was supposed to be cute and fun, but all I did was screw it up. I’m sorry you had to come back to take care of me.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

His hands reach for yours, large enough to engulf your own as he turns them over. His eyes follow the path his fingertips trace lightly over the band-aids covering the scratches on your palms. “If I hadn’t gone on ahead of you–”

You press a hand against his chest to stop him, his eyes flickering back up to meet your own.

As endearing as his concern is, he’s not the one at fault here. You don’t think anyone is, really, except for maybe that damned pothole you may or may not have tripped on. More importantly, you don’t want him to blame himself for this.

“Nuh-uh, nope, none of that. I’m the one who tripped, remember? It’s not your fault I suck at running. Or any kind of physical activity, actually.”

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully as you mull over your own words. He watches the mischievous smile he’s learned to love appear on your face, hears the teasing edge seeping into your tone as you lower your voice just a bit.

“Except maybe the one that involves you railing me into the mattress,” you add with a smirk, playful and just shameless enough in a way that never fails to draw him in even more. “That one, I don’t mind, for obvious reasons.”

He sighs, though your words don’t surprise him. “I really wish you wouldn’t word it that way.”

“Too late~”

You’re practically singing as you grin at him, grabbing his chin and bringing his face closer to yours.

He mutters something about you having a one track mind, but you don’t miss the amusement in his eyes or the fond little smile he casts in your direction. He doesn’t stop you from pulling him in either, allowing you to rest your other hand on the side of his face.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Wakatoshi.”

You meet him halfway for a loving kiss that you hope is enough to express your gratitude, one he doesn’t hesitate to return. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours.

And right when you think you can’t possibly love him anymore, he promises quietly, sincerely, “Always.”

As usual, he gives you no time to recover. He kisses you on the forehead and then stands up, announcing that there’s something else he needs to go grab before leaving the room.

Honestly, you’re hoping it’s food. You’re starving, and after all of this morning’s excitement* (see also: trauma), there’s nothing more you want than to cuddle up alongside your boyfriend while enjoying a plate of your favorite breakfast food.

To your surprise –and slight disappointment– when Ushijima returns, it’s not with food or anything else to treat your injuries, but rather with a set of keys. He sits beside you again, opening his palm to offer them to you.

“Well, those aren’t pancakes.” You take the keys anyway, twirling the ring around one of your fingers before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are these what I think they are?”

“The keys to my apartment,” he confirms. “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen. It’s not the last thing you expected him to ask you when he offered you the keys, but it’s definitely not the first one either.

When he first held them out to you, you thought maybe he was just giving you a copy of your own to hold onto, just in case you ever needed them. You’ve thought about offering him the same a few times before, just so he could let himself into your own apartment whenever he comes over instead of you having to get up and open the door for him.

But that’s not what’s happening here. It looks like Ushijima’s chosen to skip the exchanging apartment keys step entirely in favor of just straight up asking you to move in with him. And while part of you is thrilled by it, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement at the prospect of getting to wake up next to him every day, of getting to come home to him, there’s another part of you that’s wondering if maybe you’re moving too fast.

It’s not that you don’t trust him, or that you doubt how much he cares for you, because you don’t. Your previous partners couldn’t even spell commitment, much less agree to it, but Ushijima’s not like them.

He told you, not too long after the first few times you went out together, that he doesn’t believe in dating casually or wasting his time. If he’s with someone, it’s because he sees a future with them. Hearing that was a bit intimidating at first, but it was also extraordinarily refreshing.

Asking you to move in with him, you know, is just another step towards that future. And while the idea excites you, making you feel more secure and adored than in any of your past relationships, there’s a part of you that’s still a bit hesitant.

After all, what sets you and Ushijima apart –more than your senses of humor, more than your completely different levels of athletic ability, as evidenced by the ice pack and bandages you’re currently sporting– is the fact that you, unlike him, often get caught up in the “what-if’s” of a situation. Whenever you have to make a decision, you psych yourself out by imagining every little thing that could possibly go wrong.

He calls your name, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you like he already knows what you’re thinking, like he can see the tangle of anxiety you feel nestling into your bones. Maybe that’s why he reaches out to take the hand that’s not holding his keys, lacing your fingers together.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said anything.”

“I know, I know, I’m just...processing.” You give his hand a quick squeeze, moving the keys around in your other palm. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since my last away game.” He answers right away like he doesn’t have to think about it, like he just knows. Not for the first time, you find yourself envying his conviction. “I went straight to your apartment from the airport, and you were already there, waiting. I realized how much I liked the idea of getting to come home to you, and vice versa. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to move in since then.”

“Wakatoshi, that was last month. You’ve known since back then?” You stare at him with wide, wondering eyes, your cheeks already warming at the implication, growing even warmer when he nods. “And you don’t think it’s too soon? You’re not the least bit hesitant about living with me?”

“Hesitation is only necessary for those who are unsure of their desires. I know what I want, and that’s you, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me. He says it like it’s easy. Like he’s already yours, to love and to be loved by.

And he is, you realize. He has been for a while, just like you have. You knew you were in love with him this morning, and you’ve known it for weeks before that, too. You just weren’t sure when or how to bring it up, but now you are.

“I’d like that. I like you– wait, that’s not right.” You release his hand, and he stares at you in confusion, the corner of his mouth curving downward. You’re quick to smooth it away with your thumb, your eyes earnest and full of affection as you correct yourself, “I love you, Wakatoshi.”

The confusion in his eyes quickly transforms into surprise. You’re not sure what stuns him more: your confession itself, or the confident, doubtless way you say it. You smile at him and take his face into your hands, careful to move his keys so they don’t scratch him.

“I’ve known it for a while. I just wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but now I am. I don’t expect you to say it back unless you’re ready, but–”

“I love you,” he says confidently, unwaveringly, and now it’s your turn to be stunned.

You blink, taken aback for a few seconds before your lips begin curving into a goofy smile. “Really?”

He hums affirmatively, and after that you can’t do anything besides kiss him. He’s quick to return the gesture, moving his mouth against yours and winding one arm around your waist to pull you closer. He pulls back from you right when you’re about to deepen the kiss. You try to pout, but it’s hard to do so when you feel as giddy and over the moon as you do now.

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in with me?”

“Of course.” You beam at him. “I’d love to move in with you, Wakatoshi.”

He smiles, his arm moving up to wrap around your shoulders, and your own smile grows brighter as you lean into him, cuddling against his side and resting your head against his chest. Things between you are quiet for a few moments, both of you basking in the comfortable silence.

You’re shifting his keys in your hand when a thought occurs to you, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest.

“So this is why you let me go running with you this morning,” you tease. “You knew that if I did injure myself, that would just make it harder for me to leave, so I’d have no choice but to say yes to moving in. How sneaky of you.”

“You volunteered to join me–”

“I know, Toshi, I’m just kidding.” You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “So, what do you say we go make some breakfast in your kitchen? I’m starving.”

“Our kitchen now,” he corrects, and your heart flutters in your chest for what must be the tenth time in the hour or so you’ve been awake this morning. It can’t be healthy for you. “And I’ll be the one making breakfast. You stay here and rest that ankle.”

He kisses your forehead and stands up to head into the kitchen. You frown at the loss of his warmth, but another look at the keys in your hand has you smiling again.

Maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.

Written by: Dawn

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima imagines #haikyuu imagines #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #our writing #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #haikyuu fluff #dawn writes

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years ago

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Them reacting to walking in on their s/o self-harming [Genshin Impact]

Characters Included: Diluc Ragnvindr & Childe

Notes: i cried while making this- 😢 sorry if some makes no sense- hshsh- hope ya’ll like this.

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warning: trigger warning for self-harm and depressing stuff.

“... [Y/N]..?”

he honestly doesn’t know what he’ll do, whether or not to comfort you. Seeing you pressing a blade on your wrist, right where your vein is made Diluc freeze. His eyes were wide and blank, staring at the sight of blood pouring out of the freshly-made cuts on your arm and on the pristine white floor. How was he supposed to react to that?

When he finally caught up with his mind, his first instinct is to remove the blade in your hands. He won’t say anything as he gently tries to comfort you by placing his other hand on your cheeks and rubbing it with his thumb. When you stare at his ruby-red eyes, you can see all of the emotions inside them, afterall the eyes are the windows to the soul, right? You can see sadness, shock, disappointment, anger and confusion all jumbled together. It was a mess, he was a mess and so are you.

You couldn’t help but cry in front of him, spouting out apologies after apologies. You couldn’t even understand what you’re trying to say, all you know is that you’re talking nonsense. Diluc stares at you sadly as he shush you gently, he doesn’t need your apologies, he just needs to bandage your wounds.

As he starts to treat your wounds, he notices some old ones as well, scars from your previous attempts. The mere thought of you suffering way before he met you made him wished he met you sooner to prevent this, but alas, even now when both of you are dating, he couldn’t tell you were aching inside. A failure of a boyfriend, he thinks. He didn’t realize how broken you are, despite all of your smiles and laughs, he should’ve seen the hint of sadness behind your smiles. He didn’t realize how you wore thick and long clothing, even on hottest days. Mentally cursing himself as frustrated tears began building up in his eyes.

“Why...? Why didn’t you tell me about this..? Don’t... don’t you trust me..?” Diluc’s voice soft yet so broken, his voice breaking up a few times with how much emotions he’s feeling in the moment. He was lost again, what can he do to make you feel better? Why didn’t you tell him that you’re going through so much pain? Don’t you trust him at all? Tears began leaking out of his eyes at the thought, you also crying at his question, mouth spewing out more apologies. But Diluc doesn’t want your apologies, he’s just wondering why would you do that to yourself?

When you explain to him the reason, Diluc wouldn’t utter another word as he just hugs you after dressing your wounds and bandaging it. His face on the crook of your neck as he sniffles, tears long dried. His hold around you is tight yet not so much, as if afraid that he’ll break you if he holds you too tight. In his eyes, you were fragile like a glass wine. He takes a deep breath, pulling away, putting your foreheads together and staring straight into your eyes filled with love-

“First of, I’m sorry for not being able to see through your smiles and see the pain behind them. I’m sorry for not being there when you’re at your lowest. I’m really sorry that you went through all that. I-.. I can’t erase all your pain and worry. But I can try. Lean on me, trust me, I’ll take care of you, your heart, your soul and your trust. Let me feel your pain and worries, let me in your heart. I promise I’ll try my best to ease the voices of your mind. Because I love you, and I’ll prove it to you over and over again. Don’t ever question my love for you.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You can feel it, his eyes bore through your skull as you held the blade close to your chest, about to plunge it inside you. You can feel the heat his eyes are giving you, silently commanding you to put down the blade. Near the doorway, there he stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. The mirror reflecting his figure perfectly behind you, your hands started to shake, the blade slipping out of your grasp and onto the tiled floor.

Childe stares at the blade before turning his attention to you, his gaze sharp and his usual coy smile-smirk in a frown, almost a scowl. His bangs covering his eyes slightly, making his blue eyes glow and effectively making him look scary. You can tell that he’s angry, not at you but at what you did.

Mentally, he wished he didn’t witness what he just saw. He wished he could turn back time. But nothing can change what he saw. Why? When? How? Who? So many questions filled his head. Childe knew, a long time ago before he started dating you, that you have scars, scars from your previous self-harming. He thought you stopped. But it seems like his own judgement failed him, he now sees his mistake. He didn’t confront you about it. Now, he suffers the consequence on almost losing you.

He sighed as he starts to walk towards you, his hand reaching out to you. Instinctively, you flinched. His hand stopped before slowly wrapping around your neck, the other wrapping around your waist, hugging you from behind as he kisses your temples. If you look closely, his eyes are glassy. His heart thumping widely in his chest, you could almost hear and feel it, but this thumping isn’t what he wanted to feel. The pit of worry and fear deep in his guts made him anxious and even more scared. His hands began visibly shaking a little, as he chokes back a sob. Since when did he let his guard down? Doesn’t matter as he cries. His thumb rubbing your shoulder part and the other thumb rubbing your waist.

Hearing him struggle to contain his tears, you slowly started to cry as you spew out apologies after apologies. Your hands covering your eyes as you sob your eyes out. He could feel his heart break at the sound of your cries, his arms around you tightened as he squeezed his eyes shut. He shushes you gently as he lets out words that are incoherent and almost random. His mind jumbled so he couldn’t really think straight as he just spews out whatever comes out of his mouth- “hey, you’re okay, right?” “dont cry shhh” “zhongli would kill me if he sees you crying” “he might make me eat with chopsticks for the rest of my life” “I’m a fatui harbinger, the eleventh of the ranks, so why am I crying so pitifully here-“ (yeah,, even i couldn’t understand what he’s trying to say here-)

Childe would stay like that before letting you go and picking you up, bridal-style and bringing you to the bedroom. He lets you sit on edge of the bed before going back to the bathroom. After throwing the blade away (mentally taking note to hide all the knives from your sight-), he came back with a first-aid kit and started cleaning the wounds you inflict on the arms. Yes, you have wounds in your arms, which honestly scared him a little.

He doesn’t speak, neither did you. Silence surrounded you two as he continued to dress your wounds, eyes eyeing the previous scars. He can feel his heart dropping even more when he sees more scars in your thighs and such. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he bandages your arms. After he did all that, you were about to explain to him and apologize when he pulled you in a tight hug. His left hand behind your head and the other around your back, squeezing you slightly.

“I won’t ask why you did that, but I want to know who. Who did this to you? Was it your parents? Was it the people around you? Was it.. me? or... was it... yourself..?” Childe shakily lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry for not helping you through it when its my responsibility as your partner. I’m sorry for not talking you through it when I already knew it from the start and when I see the signs. I won’t promise that I’ll be able to take away all of your pain. But you can lean on me right? I might be a Fatui Harbinger, might’ve killed plenty of people and might’ve started a couple of fights, but I am your lover first and foremost. Above all else, your happiness and safety is what I cater the most. Well, you know, except for my family because well.. their my family. Anyways the point is, lean on me, believe me when I say that I’ll love and take care of you. Through the rest of our years, I’ll be your stone, I’ll be your shield, I’ll be your everything. Tell me all your worries and woes, I’ll listen to every thing. I do love and adore you, my [Y/N].”

[x] Main Page

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe #childe x reader #self req❣️

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youare-mysonshine · 4 years ago

Text

heavy || bucky barnes

Summary: reader’s mental health has been taking a decline and bucky is there.

Requested: No

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: talks of mental health, depression, anxiety, angst, cussing.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Hey guys, I’m back I guess lmao. I’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately and I guess I kinda just wanted to put it into words, something productive? And I’ve been feeling our angsty emo boy bucky barnes. Most of you might’ve followed me for my Oscar fics but I kinda wanna branch out and I thought this would be a good time to do so. Anyways, I know that some of you have inboxed me or messaged me and I haven’t responded and I’m sorry. But I just want you all to know that if you’re struggling, I’m always here to talk. About anything, always. So, I hope you enjoy this. I might’ve cried while writing this lmao and I also might’ve ended it on such an awkward place but, i’m still getting used to writing again. (Flashbacks are in italics)

————

Bucky didn’t miss the dark circles under your eyes. He didn’t miss the way you sort of slouched as you approached him. He didn’t miss the way that your smile didn’t really meet your eyes.

“Hey,” You said in a breathless voice. “Sorry, I’m late. I got held up.” You said as you took a seat across from him in the booth. Held up. It was better than telling him that you were thinking of just not showing up at all. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t just blow off your new friend who you had so enjoyed spending time with. So, in a rush, you got dressed and made your way to the small, quiet diner that you two had taken to frequenting together. Bucky Barnes was an enigma if you’d ever met one. The way that you had met was rather.. cliche and something straight from a story.

You had been trying to lay off of the caffeine for a while, realizing that you had nearly gone through an entire packet of 32 k-pods that you had just purchased. You realized that you might’ve had a problem. You had been going pretty strong with staying away from caffeine for the time being, until you passed by a coffee shop and got a whiff of coffee. You just couldn’t help yourself; you bought a cup of coffee. It was when you were walking down the street, holding the cup of coffee in one hand, looking down, that you didn’t see someone walking right in your path. You had collided into what seemed like a solid wall and the impact had caused you to squeeze the cup of coffee in surprise, the warm liquid burning your hand, staining your clothes and the other person. You had realized it was another person you had crashed into when you heard them let out a low cuss.

Bucky’s grumpy self had been fully prepared to tell you off for crashing into him, having just left his therapist’s office, but when you looked up at him with those bright eyes of yours, a million apologies spilling from your lips a mile a minute, he swallowed whatever harsh words had nearly sprung forth. He had apologized as well; both of you had been at fault. Bucky had been going over his session with Dr. Raynor that morning, completely lost in his own mind, and you had your eyes trained on the ground, something that was a bad habit of yours. The shock of realizing you had bumped into a man, a really really handsome man with the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen, had made you temporarily forget that you had practically scorched your hand with the coffee, and that you had gotten it on him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You said once again, quickly averting your eyes from the handsome stranger’s face. Instead you focused on the smushed cup in your hand and the stains on his leather jacket. It just made you feel even terrible. “I, I can pay for you to get your jacket cleaned, if you want. Really. I wasn’t paying attention and I just, for whatever reason, squished my cup and.. I’m sorry.” You said, kind of breathlessly.

“It’s.. it’s alright.” His voice was like the coffee that you had been drinking. Smooth and rich. It was deep, something that reverberated deep in your chest and had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Really, it’s fine. And don’t worry about my jacket. No harm, no foul.” He said. “You should, uh, you should take care of that hand. Hope you didn’t burn yourself too bad.” He gestured to your hand, still clutching the cup, with one of his own gloved hands.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t that hot. Thank you, though. And again, I’m really, really sorry.” Sparing one, seemingly, last glance at the handsome stranger, you side stepped him and began to walk away, tossing the empty cup of coffee in a trash can on the sidewalk. But you didn’t get very far because that deep voice called out to you, halting you in your tracks.

“Can I buy you another cup of coffee?” Bucky’s mouth had opened and spoken the words long before his brain could even catch up. He didn’t know why he had asked you that, but something in his gut was just telling him too.

“What?” A look of total bewilderment had crossed your face and he had seen it.

“I just, well I thought that, since I bumped into you, I could make it up to you by buying you a new cup of coffee. If you wanted, I mean. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Bucky clarified, hand stuffed in his pocket, waiting for your answer. For a few seconds, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say because surely this wasn’t happening? The last time that you had gone out with a guy was.. well, shit, you didn’t even remember the last time. The little voice in the back of your head, that anxious, paranoid little voice, was telling you not to go off with a stranger. You’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds and other true crime shows and documentaries to know that situations like this never turned out well. However, you didn’t get a bad feeling from this particular man. He seemed just as awkward and slightly frazzled as you felt. So you agreed.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

That had happened about two months ago. Ever since then, you and Bucky had formed a strong friendship. Your first time getting coffee with him had been awkward, as were the next few times that you had seen one another. But things got easier. Becoming friends was easy. You kind of fell into this routine, almost as if you two had known each other your whole lives. That was why Bucky telling you who he really was had been terrifying for him. He carried around guilt and shame and just contempt for everything he’d done. Everything The Winter Soldier represented, and when he told you, he figured that you would think the same. He had asked you meet him at the diner that had now become your spot and and you remember how he nervously wrung his gloved hands together. You remember when you asked him what was wrong and he didn’t verbally respond but he took off his gloves; the right one first and then the left, revealing a shiny black metal hand, golden lines intricately placed.

He told you then. Maybe he didn’t tell you everything but he told you who he was and he had braced himself for you to get up and storm out. Or, to yell at him and tell him how much of a monster he was. But, it never came. Instead, you reached out and placed your hand on top his. Not his real hand, but the metal one. You didn’t say anything. You just gave him that smile that was quickly becoming his favorite. Sometimes, silence spoke a thousand words. To Bucky, you had become kind of a respite for him. Even in the late nights or mornings when he woke up after a nightmare. Or after a particularly hard session with Dr. Raynor. He had closed himself off from other people except you.

Bucky might not have known it, but he gave you the same level of comfort as you gave him. You found yourself craving his presence. Every time you were around him, you couldn’t help but to smile or laugh. In the time that you spent together, your mind was clear and free from all your worries. It all evaporated into thin air. Your mind, usually so active with all sorts of thoughts and worries, could finally rest when you were with Bucky. You could sleep. You could get up in the morning without that stress and anxiety drowning you. It was okay. It was great.

Until it wasn’t.

“No problem, doll.” He said, gloved hands clasped under the table on his lap. “I already ordered. Got your usual. Hope that was alright.” He added, to which you nodded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Thanks Buck.” You said, mustering up a half hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. It was like even smiling drained the energy from you. You were exhausted. Not even just physically but mentally and emotionally. You had been having such good days for a while now, since meeting Bucky. You felt like maybe you would finally be alright but.. this feeling of hopelessness, the feeling that nothing was quite right, it was heavy. It weighed you down. It suffocated you. You wanted to be alone, but you also couldn’t stand to be alone because when you were alone, you were just stuck in your head and being in your head was the absolute worst place to be.

The intrusive thoughts had started. They told you that you would do nothing but weigh Bucky down. That he didn’t need someone like you in his life, someone with clear problems of their own, when he was going to therapy trying to better himself. Even if it had been mandatory for him to go. You wanted to push him away, save him from yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

Bucky noticed the shift in you. Normally when you two met up, whether it was at the diner or anywhere else, you would usually talk his ear off. Not that he minded, he was content to just sit back and listen to you. Sometimes, you’d tell him about a new book that you had started reading. You had just started reading the fifth Harry Potter book and you were trying to get him to read them. You’d tell him about your day. You’d ask him how his day went, how it went with Dr. Raynor, though you never pushed for more information. You always let him share if he was comfortable with it and he appreciated that. Sometimes you teased him for being such an old man.

The food came soon after you had arrived and sure enough, Bucky had ordered your usual. It sent a pang through your heart when you realized that he had memorized your order, down to the extra syrup and whipped cream on the pancakes. Bucky always liked to make fun of you for ordering the same thing when you came to the diner. No matter what time it was, you always ordered the pancakes with extra syrup and extra whip cream, with the strawberries on the side. Secretly, though he found it adorable.

Today, you had barely even taken more than a few bites and that was what really let Bucky know that something wasn’t right. You kept your head down, eyes on the pancakes and you cut them up, bringing a few up to your mouth and chewing slowly, but you mostly just moved them around your plate with the fork in your hand. Bucky himself had barely taken only a few bites of the food he’d ordered for himself, but it wasn’t for lack of appetite, it was because of the growing concern. His bright blue eyes were now a stormy grey, kind of like the clouds that you see during a heavy storm. His brows were furrowed, giving him an appearance almost as if he were angry.

“You alright, Y/N? You’ve barely eaten your food and normally you finish before I do.” He attempted to joke, to bring about that smile that seemed to always fill him with warmth. He half expected you to look up at him with that cheeky little smile, a mischievous look in your eyes and say “You know, I would be offended by that, but I know why you eat so slow, Buck. I completely understand. You don’t want your dentures to fall out.” But it never came.

You don’t know what it was. Bucky asking you if you were alright or if it was simply all the pressure of just.. everything, finally breaking, but you could feel the hot tears in your eyes. They blurred your vision until you couldn’t really see the plate of the pancakes in focus. The dam had finally come apart and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You set the fork down and buried your face in your hands, your shoulders lightly shaking as you began to cry. All Bucky could do was stare for a few seconds, alarm written all over his face. Alarm and distress because he had no idea what just happened and if he had done something to upset you.

“Woah woah, hey. Sweetheart, hey. What’s wrong?” In seconds, Bucky was out of his side of the booth and scooting in beside you. You felt the comfort of his warmth, you felt his arm tentatively, almost hesitantly, slide around your shoulders and anchor you to him. You shook your head, attempting to calm down, to stop the tears but the more you tried, the more they seemed to come.

“I-I’m sorry, Bucky.. I.. I’m sorry.. I-I’m fine. Really.” You said, sniffling. It was apparent to you both that you were not alright and he really just wanted to get to the bottom of it. Or at least attempt to comfort you. But doing that in the middle of a diner with other people around wasn’t ideal.

“Hey, my apartment is only a short walk away. Come on, let’s get you out of here and somewhere more quiet.” You didn’t protest. You just nodded and slid out of the booth after he did. Bucky took out his wallet and placed a few bills on the table, paying for the uneaten food, and then quickly led you out of the establishment. He kept his hand on you, almost like an anchor. Whether it was to reassure you or himself, he didn’t know and you didn’t mind either. It was probably the only thing that kept you from retreating inside of your mind and giving in to the panic that so desperately wanted out.

You didn’t even realize that you had reached his apartment until he had led you up the stairs and you were standing behind him as he unlocked the door. He allowed you to step in first and then quickly followed behind you, shutting the door as he did so. You didn’t really get the chance to take in his apartment because he had ushered you to sit on his couch while he knelt in front of you.

“Alright, you’re scarin’ me here, doll. What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” The sheer look of concern and slight panic in his face and those pretty eyes of his made the waterworks come back again. You shook your head, your face scrunched up in anguish. Hot bullet tears fell from your eyes and left a wet path in their wake down your cheeks. Bucky wasn’t one to pry; he hated it when people tried to pry into his life and he didn’t do it to you, but he couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you cry. He couldn’t stand the sight of your once bright eyes and cheery smile just.. gone. You eyes were sad and your lips were pulled into a frown. “Talk to me, baby.” He practically pleaded.

“I just.. I don’t.. I don’t know how to explain it, Buck.” You cried. “I-I.. I just feel like..” You let out a frustrated cry when you couldn’t find the right words but Bucky was patient. He reached a hand up, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that kept falling. “I don’t feel.. happy. Everyday I wake up and I just, I feel fine for like a few seconds and then everything just comes crashing down on me. I can’t ever stop thinking. I can’t sleep at night. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like this, Bucky. And I feel fucking crazy. Sometimes I feel like you don’t even really like me. I feel.. hopeless, like nothing is ever going to be okay. I might feel okay for a few seconds but then it just goes away.” You explained, though you were sure that you probably sounded like a raving and ranting lunatic. “Before I met you, I liked being alone but I also hated it because when I was alone, I would just overthink and overthink and overthink about every fucking thing. If it wasn’t one thing it was another just giving me such bad anxiety and.. I don’t know what to do anymore, Bucky. I’m just tired of feeling like this. Feeling like nothing is ever going to be okay, like I’m never going to be okay. I just feel.. alone.”

His heart was well and truly broken. In the two months that he’d known you, he hadn’t known how badly you had struggled with your mental health. He hadn’t known the war that you fought within your mind, and how bad it had become. You were such saving grace for Bucky; you saved him from the wars inside of his mind. The constant feeling of guilt that he fought with on a daily basis, and now.. he just wanted to do the same for you. He wanted to shoulder some of the pain that you carried, the pain that seemed to be weighing you down. Both of his hands now cupped your cheeks so delicately, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His blue eyes were shining, looking at you with not pity, but something like.. understanding. If anyone knew what you were feeling, it was Bucky.

“You’re not alone.” His smooth and rich voice was so soft, so gentle that it brought on a new set of tears. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore. You know why? Cause you got me.” He said. “I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. To feel stuck in your head. To feel like nothing is ever gonna get better. I felt like that in Wakanda. Sometimes.. sometimes, we need help. And I know I’m not one to be talking considering that I don’t really like talking to my therapist or even going,” That roused the smallest of smiles from you. “I’m here. You know that, right? I’m here. You got me and I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I don’t care if you have a million bad days. I don’t care if you feel like you’re bothering me. I’ll be there every time.” You two have gradually gravitated close to one another until your foreheads were pressed together. Bucky was still knelt in front of you on the couch, his hands still holding your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. The tears had stopped falling but you were still sniffling softly. “You’ve helped me. Even if you don’t know it. You’ve helped me.” He was whispering. There was no one but you two in his apartment but he was still whispering the words meant for only you to hear. “Now, let me help you. Please.”

“Okay. I trust you, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #mcu #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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lieutenant-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Protecting You Is All I know How To Do

Shield Powered Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warning: Mentions of childhood trauma, beatings, injuries. Angst. Little fluff at end.

Request: YES :))))

Summary: Protecting Wanda was all you knew, she was your rock and you were hers.

Not my Gif

A/N: This is my first request, so this is a big deal! This was not proofread but I really enjoyed writing this.

Words: 1,508

Your powers were the cause of all your problems, the damage to your health, to your head, the trauma they caused you never wanted to use them. When you first got to HYDRA, you were taken, no given. Your parents trusted some men in suits because they were too messed up to care about anyone but themselves. They wanted money, power and the men promised everything and more to them. You don't know what happened to them after you left, but you hope whatever it was, was worse than anything you'd been subjected to.

Every day, like clockwork, you were taken to a small dark room, had serum after serum injected into you. Test after test to see what happened to you, nothing worked, until it did. You were upset, you were tired of them beating you, they blamed you for their serums not working, and you just put your hands out. They were blasted to the other side of the room, the force from your shield launching them back. Once again, they blamed you for not finding out your powers sooner. All your tests came back normal, and they didn't know which serum made you this way. The beatings only got worse from there.

Now that you had powers, you were bound, you didn't want to cooperate. You became numb, numb from the pain. They beat you no matter what. No matter if you cooperated or not. All you could do than pass the time was to be in your head. It was your safe place. When you were subjected to their beatings, you went inside your head to distract yourself. You never felt alone there. You had imagined a new life, one with your parents, what might've happened if they weren't such deadbeats. You imagined love. You imagined anything and everything. Your head was the place that made you sane.

"Hey, I hear your thoughts are you there?” You hear a voice in your head, you look around your room. The men had already left, where was it coming from. You laugh, you're finally going crazy from being alone. “I am your cellmate, I can hear you, you're not crazy”

“You can hear me? How?” You were definitely crazy now. There was no one here.

“I have powers, I can read and communicate with others in my mind.” Ah, that makes sense, you were alone in the corridor, clearly, it was made for those with powers, and you were the first successful one and now they had found another.

“How long have you been here?” You heard her sigh inside your mind, “I just got here, my parents, they uh, they passed away recently and well turns out twin orphans with powers travels around,” You sympathize with her, you want her to not feel alone anymore. She was the only one you had anymore.

“You have a twin?” You hear her laugh, “Yeah, he’s like me, he has powers too, but he can’t read minds. Do you have powers?” You hesitate to open up to her, afraid of everyone but she seems comfortable, at least in your head, you are relaxed, you’re not afraid.

Quickly you became friends, her name was Wanda, and she told you about her family. Her twin brother, you could talk to through Wanda, he was nice, witty, and he also became your friend. She would tell you often about her life before HYDRA. You both had created plans, plans to escape, plans for what you'd do after you got out, but you never followed through. Sometimes it was nice to wonder. Wanda was your age, young, and she was new. You once heard her cry about the same men that tortured you. To escape the beatings from them, you'd create a shield surrounding her. She told you when they came in, and you had shared the world inside your head with her to go to, it kept her distracted. When they saw the shield, it would distract them from her as they would march over to you and hurt you instead. You needed Wanda, she was your friend, your closest friend. After some time you would do the same with her brother.

You still despised using your powers, you could've easily used them to shield yourself instead, but you couldn't. You were scared of them, but Wanda and her brother needed you, they needed you to protect them.

After Ultron, when Pietro died, you were crushed. Your job was to protect the twins. Thankfully Wanda was okay, You felt as if your purpose was to protect them, and you failed. Wanda leaned on you, and you leaned on her. His death wasn't easy on either of you.

You join the Avengers the same time Wanda did, you didn't want to leave her side and she didn't want you to leave hers. You both still communicated inside your head, it was a comfort you both could only get from each other. When you went on missions you both were paired together, you protected her. You didn't give a damn about what happened to you, but the first time you were injured, changed your perspective.

Wanda was in the waiting room, waiting for you to come out of surgery, the bullet was lodged in your stomach. Wanda needed you, as much as you need her. She loved you, she always had. She had a crush on you the moment she talked to you. You, on the other hand, had never really got to experience those emotions, you had pushed them down but you did love Wanda too. You were her rock, her protector. A tough egg to crack to everyone else, but to her, you were soft. You held her when she cried, and she would hold you. Your rooms were next to each other, but you usually ended up sleeping in the same room.

When you were ready to receive visitors, she was there in an instant. She held your hand and waited, prayed for you to wake up. And you did. You woke up to her hand in yours. You opened your eyes to see a scratch on her head. You reached over a brushed your hand against it. She looked at you softly, a small smile on her face, her eyes full of tears. You could tell by the look on her face, the injury took a toll on her, it caused her pain. The pain you tried every day to avoid, to help her with.

You realized, to protect her you had to protect yourself. How were you supposed to help her if you were dead or unconscious or just unable to. You didn't want to lose her, she's already lost so much. You knew she could probably hear you because squeezed your hand softly, before you hear her soft voice inside your head.

"I need you moya lyubov, I need you here with me" You smile at her softly, your hand reaching up to hold her face, your thumb drawing lazy circles across her skin. Your actions say all the words you can’t say. "Can I ask you a question printsessa," you nod your head, "Why me?" You obviously look confused because she continues, "Every time on missions, I am the only one unharmed, the others, they have bruises and black eyes. We both know how many gunshot wounds have been had between all of them. I don't get that experience, you only use your powers to protect me." You think for a minute pondering, you didn't protect the others. They chalked it up to you both knowing each other longer. But you look at your interlocked hands, you thought of the way your heart raced with Wanda. You loved her, the realization hit you like a truck.

"Because I love you Wands, I always have. I can't stand seeing you hurt if I could do something about it." You look up at her, no words had to be spoken as she leaned in and kissed you. Your hand stayed at her face as she pulled you closer. The kiss said a lot of words between you two, years of love that has been saved between you.

Its been two years since that day, you and Wanda have decided to move in together a few months after that. But today is your anniversary. This day 2 years ago, you asked Wanda to be your girlfriend. You had asked Nat for help then, and you're asking Nat now.

“Please Nat, you know her so well, do I get this ring,” You paused to show her a picture before showing her another one a moment later, “or this one?” You heard her sigh.

“Y/N, you have been dating for a couple years, and have known each other countless before that, you know her better than me!” You sigh, she's right but that didn't make your decision easier.

“I just want this to be perfect Nat, it's not every day you ask the love of your life to marry you.”

#wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximov x y/n #wanda maximov x you #maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff fluff

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

Michael tells Alex about the Dictator.

Michael was leaning forward on his knees, staring at the flames of the bonfire. He was slowly losing his mind, he knew it, but that didn’t make him pick up his phone and call Max for guidance or Isobel to apologize. He didn’t call Maria to ask if she was having any visions about his future, or Valenti to look him over for a burn mark he might’ve miraculously missed.

Mr. Jones had told him all he’d needed to know, and now the rest of the world felt muffled, like there was cotton in his ears. He didn’t want to talk to his siblings, he didn’t want his friends’ advice or insight. He didn’t think he could ever move away from this bonfire again, watching the flames taunt him. Because they knew they couldn’t hurt him, and that it was torturing him.

When a car drove up to the junkyard, Michael was flooded with memories of another late-night visitor. He looked up, traitorous hope climbing his throat before he could help it. When he saw Isobel behind the wheel, his heart sagged back to the bottom of his stomach, and he returned to staring at the fire.

It was frightening how, even after a year apart, just the thought of the airman cut through his haze like a knife.

Isobel stepped out of her car and stood across the bonfire, her arms crossed. She sighed. “I think you should talk to Alex.”

Michael’s eyes flickered upward. Isobel looked shaken, and the brotherly part of him wanted to be protective and concerned, but the bigger part couldn’t muster the will.

He offered a small, humorless smirk, the only kind he could manage, and held his still untouched beer bottle to his lips. “Pardon?”

Isobel wasn’t having it. She came to stand in front of Michael, blocking his view of the flames. “You’re not okay,” she said simply.

“Would you be?” he answered without looking at her, the cruelty evident in his tone.

“I don’t know why you’re listening to Jones of all people,” she tried. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t –”

“Is,” Michael cut her off, shutting his eyes. “Not now, okay?”

Isobel said nothing for a moment, then huffed. She grabbed the chair nearest Michael, pulled it closer, and sat down, facing him. “You need to talk to Alex, Michael. You’ve . . . you’ve never listened to anybody like you listen to him, and he’s smart. He’ll tell you what I already know, and . . .” she shook her head. “Maybe you’ll believe him.”

Michael said nothing. He said nothing as Isobel sighed, kissed his temple, and told him she’d come by again in the morning. He said nothing as she got in her car with a final plea for him to go see Alex. He said nothing as she drove away.

He said nothing because he couldn’t admit that he’d been terrified of this beyond anything else. Facing Alex again, after everything he’d done. But he wanted it. He wanted to see Alex so badly, and though he knew it might only push him further over the edge until he felt nothing at all, he also knew he would be worse off not seeing Alex at all.

When Michael dared ask himself what he wanted, the answer was clear; he didn’t want to see or talk to anybody, but he could manage just enough strength to talk to Alex. Only to Alex.

On his way to Alex’s house, he thought of all the ways he could explain what he was doing there, where to begin in what he’d discovered. But it looked like Alex had somehow known he was coming because he didn’t give him the luxury of working out a script in his head. Instead, Michael found him in his front garden, kneeling in the mud and pulling at weeds. He had one hand on the dirt beside a few roses, as if careful not to accidentally hurt them.

Michael pulled his truck to a stop, watching the ends of Alex’s hair stick to his skin with sweat, the way his brows pinched in concentration, but his hands worked gently. A lump formed in Michael’s throat. He thought about the things he’d said to Alex almost two years ago, and the way he’d made him feel.

“I don’t think we’re good for each other, Alex.”

“I like Maria, okay?”

“I’m saying no.”

Michael shut his eyes tight. What right did he have to talk to Alex now? He clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. He started to turn the steering wheel when Alex glanced up and their eyes caught through the windshield.

Alex straightened and raised a hand in startled greeting. Michael hesitated. He should’ve driven away, escaped as quickly as possible, but he hadn’t seen Alex in a year, and only barely glimpsed him at the bus stop when he’d come back before he quickly turned away, unable to stand the sight of him and Forrest together. And he missed him. He missed him like he didn’t think he could ever miss anybody.

Seeing him now had Michael itching to be closer, to touch. Before he could tell himself it was a bad idea, he parked his truck. Alex pushed himself to his feet as Michael stepped out.

“Hey –” Michael started and stopped as Alex breathlessly pulled him in for a one-armed hug.

“Hi,” Alex said and started to pull away, but Michael kept a hand on his back, keeping him close for a few more seconds. He turned his face into his hair, breathing him in. He was so warm and felt so good, his soft strands tickling Michael’s cheek.

When Alex finally stepped back, Michael saw that he looked tired, but was smiling, his cheeks dusted pink. “I was going to come see you tonight.”

“Y-You were?”

“Yeah,” Alex dusted the mud off the hem of his shirt, but Michael’s hand was still on his waist. “We haven’t talked since I got back. I missed you.”

Michael let his hand fall and allowed himself to stay close. Just for another few minutes, before Alex found out the truth about him and pushed him away in disgust.

He forced a chuckle. “I’m flattered, Private.”

As Alex searched Michael’s face, his eyes narrowed, and his smile slowly dimmed. “What’s wrong?”

Michael’s brows furrowed and he was about to shake his head, to say nothing was wrong, then Alex pursed his lips and said, “That bad, huh?”

He tried for another chuckle, but it got caught in his throat and sounded weak to his own ears. “Alex, I don’t –”

But Alex was already dusting the dirt off his hands. Michael briefly noted the strange new ring on his finger. At his confused look, Alex smiled, “I’ll put some coffee on.”

Ten minutes later found Michael in Alex’s living room, two steaming cups of coffee on the table in front of them. Michael sat on Alex’s couch, while Alex took the bench in front of his keyboard. He had changed into his sweats and an Air Force t-shirt, and Michael kept alternating between fear of what he would say, studying every freckle on Alex’s face and neck, and ogling his strong arms. He was always toned, but it was evident he’d spent the last year working out.

“You look good,” he thoughtlessly blurted.

“And you’re stalling,” Alex said, blushing.

“I’m not,” Michael truthfully said. “You look really good.”

“Guerin,” Alex leaned in. “What happened?”

Michael met Alex’s eyes and felt his own burn, the plagues of his mind coming at him at once with the genuine care in Alex’s eyes. He wondered how many minutes he would have before that kindness turned to cruel satisfaction.

“Karma,” he said. “I . . .” he looked down at his lap, his fingers playing. “I think I know who my dad is.”

Alex’s eyes widened slightly before his captain’s training kicked in, and he schooled his expression to one of indifference. “Okay. Who?”

Michael shook his head. He whispered, “A monster.”

At the confused furrow of Alex’s brows, Michael launched into the story of everything Jones had told them. He thought it’d be impossible to speak at all, but Alex held his gaze and it gave him a strength he didn’t think would last outside these walls.

By the time he was done, he was pacing the length of the living room, and Alex watched calmly from where he sat.

“This guy might’ve chased my mom and Louise off our planet in the first place,” Michael raged, his heart racing. “My mom – my mom, Alex – made Max in a lab so she could use him.” A rough chuckle escaped his lips. “And all the crap I gave you because of Jesse –”

“Guerin,” Alex said gently. “Sit down. Please.”

Michael clenched his fists, and sat down. He shook his head, staring at his cold cup of coffee. “What do I do now?”

Alex raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Michael looked up at him. “Alex,” he reminded him, “my dad’s a villain.”

“So is mine,” Alex sighed, taking their mugs to the sink. “It happens.”

Michael stared, and stood to follow. “Do you not get –”

“I get that this is freaking you out,” Alex said simply, and turned to face him. He leaned against the sink. “I get that you’re angry.”

“Angry?” he scoffed. “I’m a monster’s son!”

Alex raised a cool brow. “So?”

“So my parents are supposed to be heroes!” he slammed his fist against the wall, and all the furniture jumped a good foot before falling back down.

Alex looked unaffected, but when he spoke, his voice was soft. “I know.”

“My mom used Max! My dad destroyed everything!”

“I know.”

“Fire,” he breathed, “fire doesn’t hurt me, Alex.” He shook his head. “It feels wrong.”

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands. “It’s not.”

Michael opened his mouth on a silent sentence, whatever he was going to say next lost as Alex brushed his cheek with his thumb.

“I . . .”

Alex gently pulled Michael in against him, hugging his shoulders. Against the crook of his neck, he whispered, “I’m sorry your family’s more human than you wanted them to be.”

Michael shuddered. He tried to push Alex away, to get angry, but in his embrace all he could feel was the desperate need to be closer. He ended up grabbing Alex’s hips, his fingers curled tightly in the material of his shirt.

“Why don’t you hate me?” he demanded. “Yell at me, laugh, tell me I deserve this!”

Alex held him tighter and shook his head.

“Why not?” he urged through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I do deserve it, Alex. I made you feel like crap because of your dad. I . . . I left you alone –”

“Shh,” Alex said softly, raking a gentle hand through Michael’s curls.

“Hate me,” he begged. “Please, get mad at me.”

“Am I monster,” Alex asked, and Michael stilled, “because of my dad?”

Michael was already shaking his head. “You’re my hero, Alex,” he said without missing a beat. “But –”

“And you’re mine,” Alex whispered, his lips brushing the bare skin of Michael’s shoulder where his shirt was pulled back. It made it very hard for Michael to think.

He opened his mouth to argue, to say something, but before he realized his vision had gone blurry, big fat tears were falling down his cheeks and onto Alex’s shirt. Alex held him even tighter.

“We’ll figure it out,” Alex said lightly, as if this was no big deal. As if he had no doubt in his mind the kind of person Michael was, the hero he was. “Everything’s fine, Guerin. I promise everything’s fine.”

Michael’s hands slowly came up Alex’s back, his fingers clawing through his shirt and into his skin, holding him back even tighter.

“I missed you, Alex,” Michael breathed, and buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

Alex chuckled softly. “I’m flattered.”

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

Text

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

#happy saileen day #dean winchester pov #i just wanted to write a nervous sam before walking down the aisle scene and it turned into an actual fic from dean's point of view so —#saileen wedding #sam winchester being sam winchester #eileen leahy #deancas #background destiel #bluefirecas #userpris #usersila #holmesemrys #tearsofgrace #userstarry #rambleoncas #userdori #oh writing my writing

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kravkalackin · 4 years ago

Text

“Krav, I’m dying. My soul is actively leaving my body, I don’t know how much longer this feeble flesh puppet will hold out. Remember me when I’m gone,” Taako whined into the phone, flopping over on the bed. He could hear Kravitz laugh on the other end at his suffering, while that damned music continued to play muffled through the thin walls.

“I’ll write a very moving poem in your honor,” he joked, and Taako knew it was a joke but the thought of Kravitz doing something as cheesy and romantic as writing him goddamn fucking poetry might have caused a blush to rise to his cheeks. Just a little bit.

Then Lup’s loud singing on the chorus came belting out through the walls, and he could very easily focus on that instead.

“I just don’t get why she had to pick this as her tortured, heartache of a lament,” he complained.

“I mean, Mamma Mia is a good song? It’s catchy,” Kravitz insisted. Taako groaned, rolling over as he heard the upbeat singing of ABBA fade out for a few too short seconds of bliss before starting up again.

“Yes okay, and it was fine for like, the first two days. It’s been a week Kravitz, a week! I swear I’m hearing it in my sleep now,” he whined. Sure, he got that Lup wasn’t happy about this, neither of them were. There wasn’t anything the could do about it though, they were spending the summer with another distant relative, maybe they’d get to go back when school started up again, maybe they wouldn’t. The didn’t get a choice and they knew that.

That was why, usually, they kept to themselves. Didn’t grow all attached to people, all they really needed was each other.

Taako wasn’t even sure how Barry and Kravitz even happened. Lup broke first though, dragging the huge nerd that was Barry Bluejeans over after school one day like she’d found the greatest toy in the world. Kravitz came later, he had just been an asshole in Taako’s AP world history class who always got pissed at Taako for slacking off but then getting better grades than him.

Taako figured that was all he was ever going to be until they went over to Barry’s house one day and Kravitz was just... there. Because apparently, the two assholes were brothers. Barry was adopted, about ten or so years ago.

That was also the day him and Lup learned that Barry’s last name was not in fact, actually Bluejeans. A lot of things were lost that day.

The point was they fucked up and gotten attached. Now Lup was locking herself in her room playing ABBA on repeat for the entire fucking neighborhood to hear and Taako was losing his goddamn mind.

“Yes I’ve been broken hearted! Blue since the day we parted! Why, why did I ever let you go?!” Lup’s voice echoed through the walls, and Taako let out another muffled shout into the pillow.

“Have you tried playing something to drown her out?” Kravitz asked, and Taako rolled his eyes a little at that.

“I have. It doesn’t work, nothing works! I’m stuck in Swedish pop hell Kravitz!” he whined.

“You could... go outside,” Kravitz said, and Taako’s frown deepened at that.

“Yeah sure, I’ll just go live in a tent in the backyard for the summer. Boyscouts here I come, I’m a tent boy now! Snuggle up with the neighborhood racoons,” he said. He was pretty sure he could imagine Kravitz rolling his eyes at that, but it wasn’t like he could just spend forever outside.

“Has it really been since you left?” he asked, and Taako nodded vehemently.

“Yes! I knew she was fucking hopeless for Barold but I didn’t realize it was that bad,” he said. Sure, Lup hadn’t actually told him, but he knew his sister well enough to know what was up. And this? She was so goddamn lost for the nerd it was ridiculous.

Kravitz didn’t say anything for a moment, and right when Taako was starting to get worried he spoke up.

“Actually, I have an idea. Gimme a second,” he said.

“Yeah, alright,” Taako said with a shrug. It wasn’t like he didn’t have much else to do after all. He could hear Kravitz put the phone down, and there was maybe a two or three minute pause where nothing happened. Taako was starting to get bored when suddenly the unthinkable happened.

The music turned off.

He could hear Lup’s phone ringing for a second, but it didn’t last long before she picked up.

“Barold! Shit, long time no talk, thought you might’ve forgotten about me,” Lup’s voice came in muffled through the wall, gradually fading as she moved further away, probably to pace like the lovestruck idiot she was.

Taako was speechless.

“Did it work?” Kravitz asked, having returned to the phone.

“I fucking love you,” Taako blurted out, his face turning beat fucking red as soon as he realized. From the way Kravitz laughed he probably didn’t think it was serious. Of course it wasn’t serious.

It was kinda maybe a little serious.

“I’m glad I could help,” Kravitz said, all smug pleased and yeah okay, Taako might’ve fallen a little bit. He wasn’t as bad as Lup thought.

As long as he wasn’t as bad as Lup, it was probably fine.

#taz #the adventure zone #taakitz #blupjeans #long post #so i have this au #where barry and kravitz are adopted brothers #because it's pleasing to my brain #also during new years i *did* listen to mamma mia by abba for like a week straight #but i have headphones because i'm not an animal #also just because it slaps #anyway i can't write anything more than these like 1K tumblr drabbles right now #but at least it's something

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no-droids · 5 years ago

Text

Brown Eyes

Part Nine of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.1K dont. just dont

Warnings: Smut, AS ALWAYS. Canon typical violence, verbal references masochism/pain kink (NOT ACTUALLY EXPLORED IN THIS CHAPTER MY DUDES, JUST HINTED AT/DISCUSSED), slight degradation, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, a bit of ass play (!!!), FLUUUUFFFFFF

***

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“I’m just…” The helmet looks you up and down, considering. You scrunch your nose at him and rock back and forth on your feet impatiently as he sighs. “It’s going to be like teaching a foundling to read. I’m just trying to figure out where to even begin.”

“Because it’s so fucking pretty here, I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that,” you say pointedly, looking around at the vast field of flowing grass surrounding the two of you and breathing in the warm, fresh air into your lungs. “Your vibe is clashing, Din.”

“Because I don’t really know what that means, I’m also going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he returns, and the child’s giggles float up alongside the breeze as he chases after another, slightly smaller green reptile that you also currently have no name for. He tilts the beskar thoughtfully at you, and you squint against the way the sun catches the visor directly in your eyes from this angle. “What do you want to learn first?”

“I want to shoot a gun,” you blurt without thinking.

“Okay, hand-to-hand it is,” he nods firmly, and then pats his unarmored chest with one bare hand. “Hit me.”

You blink down at the dark fabric stretched across his left pectoral, and then back up at the metallic visor staring back at you.

“Hit me,” he says again in response to your silence. “Hard as you can. Right here.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, lifting your gaze up to him once more with a twist of your mouth, already out of your comfort zone. “What if I hurt you?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” He actually sounds… pissed off. “Hit me.”

You immediately shove your hand up against his chest in response to the sharp order, and your palm makes a quiet slapping sound as it collides with what feels like solid rock concealed underneath black fabric.

Din says absolutely nothing. Almost a… forced silence. Like what he wants to say will very likely be vaguely mean and dismissive of your feelings, so he’s keeping his mouth firmly shut under the helmet. He just pats his chest again, each one purposeful and distinct, easily making twice the amount of noise hitting himself as you did hitting him.

You ball your fist up this time and whack him with it, considerably harder this time and even making a solid thud against his pectoral, though he doesn’t even move a fraction under the blow.

“I am…” he tries to choose his words carefully after another moment of purposeful silence. “…insulted.”

You grit your teeth and raise your arm up and back, swinging it out at him as hard as you physically can, but then the curve of his broad shoulder suddenly jerks back just before you can touch him and your fist is caught from the side with a gentle grip.

“Better. You wound up that time, that gives you momentum. But never come at someone like this,” he tells you, lifting your arm back up to the way it was before and then slowly hinging it down again against his chest. “This is how you were going to hit. See how your pinkie is taking the brunt of the punch when you come down at it from an angle like this?” He pushes your fist against his chest a few times to demonstrate your pinkie squishing against the solid plane of muscle. “No matter how hard you hit me, your hand is going to take that much force, too. That attempt had about half the power you want, but you might’ve broken your finger if I let you make contact like that.”

“Half the power?” You narrow your eyebrows at him. “You’ll break my whole hand.”

Din angles your wrist straight and pushes your closed fist against his chest again, this time head-on instead of at a downward angle. “Always try to use these first two knuckles to reinforce against the impact, they’re the strongest and best aligned with the bones in your wrist. You should also physically brace yourself for it. Flex your arm—create as much rigidity around your joints as you can, keep your fist clenched tight to maintain integrity of the soft tissues in your hand, and your body should protect itself against the blowback as long as you land right. Try again.”

You diligently wind your fist up again and then go to snap your arm straight forward this time, but he steps up and catches your elbow before you can even move. “Wait. Look at this—see this chicken wing?” He flaps your elbow back and forth while his other hand holds your fist in place next to your head. “This is no good, this is where you’re losing half your power. And having your arm up like this is making you open to rib and kidney shots.”

You squirm to the side when he taps the bend of his knuckle against your kidney, and the vulnerable spot is tender even though he barely uses any force. “I’m winding up,” you inform him with a huff.

“You are,” Din acknowledges. “But your movement is limited like this. See where your elbow is compared to your center of gravity?” He flaps it again, and your shoulder pulls uncomfortably when he pushes it back just a bit too far. “You’re restricting yourself, look. Your shoulder is in the way, this is as far as your body will let you go. You’re also using up too much energy trying to swing your whole arm around just to make contact; it’s sloppy technique, it slows you down, and it’ll tire you out. But, if you wind up like this—” Din lowers your elbow until it rests flat against your side, and then hinges it backwards instead of up near your head, “—see how much further away your elbow is from your body now? Instead of swinging outwards, think of a slingshot forwards. Use explosive, forward momentum that you generate from your shoulder—you’re aiming for a sharp, streamlined jab. This way you conserve energy, produce twice as much power, and your arm now covers up all this important stuff under here,” he explains, trying to tap his knuckle against your side once more but being blocked by your forearm. “Good? Now go again.”

He lets you go and steps back, and this time you instinctually plant your foot behind you to give you a solid base foundation that’ll allow you more room to twist, your physics brain lighting up as soon as he said slingshot. His helmet quickly drops to your stance and then immediately lifts back up to your face again.

You do exactly as he said—you wind back, keeping your arm tucked tight to your side, and then explode forward with a sharp spin of your shoulder and snap of your elbow, colliding your clenched fist into his chest as hard as you possibly can.

He grunts and takes two steps back.

You howl.

“FUUUUUCK!” It gets lost in the giant field of grass as you clutch your fist, torn between cradling it to your chest like a baby and shaking it out violently at your side like… something distinctly not a baby. You settle for just bending over and holding it tightly to your stomach, eyes clamped shut and screeching with such fervor that the back of your throat stings sharp with it. “WHAT THE FUCKING—FUCKFUCKFUCK—!?”

“Good!” Din encourages over your wailing. “That was good! How’d that feel? Holy shit—that felt good.”

“What’s the point of hitting you when it hurts me and makes you feel good!?” You cry out over your shoulder, somewhere between genuine hatred and agony.

“That was perfect,” he tells you immediately, almost sounding vaguely… out of breath behind you? “Don’t change a thing—that’s how you punch every single time from now on, okay? That’s how hard you hit. Fuck, that felt fucking good.”

The… something in his voice is enough to take your mind off your throbbing hand for just a second, quickly snapping upright and whirling around to face him with your eyebrows very, very narrowed. He stands there in front of you and you continue to eye him with as much silent skepticism as you can express, until the both of you speak at the same time.

“What was that?”

“Let’s go again.”

Neither of you move, and you feel like your face is scrunched up as tiny as possible at him right now with dubiousness.

“Let’s go again,” Din suddenly grunts out, hooking an arm around your elbow and tugging you to face forward once more.

“Did that turn you on?” You ask him bluntly, your battle wound completely forgotten by your side.

“I swear if you don’t—”

“You get hard when you get hurt?” You ask dumbly, all sorts of lightbulbs suddenly illuminating in dusty, cobwebbed corners of your mind. Maker, that would explain so much. “Is that why you wanted a handjob immediately after I burned a knife wound shut on your back?”

“You wanna learn how to punch today or you wanna learn how to block?” Comes through the helmet, thoroughly unamused at your antics, but you just break into a mischievous little grin in response and push just one more button of his, knowing he’s only mostly joking.

“I’ll punch you,” you purr. “Hold your arms up, show me your ribs.”

There’s a split second of silence before he quickly snaps his fist to his chest once again, oh, but it’s enough. Your shoulders do a little victory shimmy and have to bite your lip to keep from beaming at him, so unbelievably proud of yourself for being able to read him this well without seeing his face.

But—for the very same reason, you also plant your foot behind you and wind your arm back once more, knowing you were already treading on thin ice.

“Am I gonna have to start calling you chicken wing?” Din suddenly barks out, a split second into your forward launch. You almost stumble into him with all the generated momentum and catch yourself just in time, eventually stepping back and resetting with a frustrated huff. Purposefully tucking your arm tight into your side, you pull back once more.

He mmphs when you make equally hard contact in the very same spot but he doesn’t move this time, and you somehow forgot how horribly painful it is to slam your clenched fist directly against a solid object with all your strength—much less, the second time around. You attempt to deaden your response as well, but he has the luxury of the helmet to shield his face. Silencing your scream just makes yours contort unattractively in front of him while your eyes clamp shut and you clutch your wrist, trying to bite back the crippling pain.

“Other hand—use the other hand instead,” he tells you quickly. “You have two of them.”

“I used to!” You snarl through the way you can’t even flex it anymore, how your muscles aren’t working through the angry sparks of acute sensation jumping down your fingers. “Your stupid fucking pecs just broke my good one!”

“Want me to kiss it?” Din asks—quickly, almost like he can’t help himself, and the snarky tone of it through the modulator coupled with the throbbing pain makes you grit your teeth.

“I used to love your body,” you lift your head and growl up at him while you cradle your swollen claw. “Why did you take that from me?”

“Give me your hand,” he says calmly, holding his palm out for you.

“No,” you spit, the pain making you stubborn and resistant to anything you don’t immediately offer yourself, but he’s not impressed. Din easily catches your elbow and brings it up, his other hand gently lacing through your fingers even as you try in vain to pull it away. “Stop it—”

He completely ignores you and looks back over his shoulder at the kid, dwarfed by the tall grass and continuing to hop around behind what will likely be his lunch, before the helmet turns back to you. “Eyes closed.”

“This isn’t fucking funn—”

“Close your eyes,” he tells you once more. “Don’t open them.”

You take a deep breath and grind your teeth, not wanting to be treated like a baby. It irks you that he’s dedicating so much time and effort into just infantilizing you and your very real pain. Though, the pain is so real that it makes it almost impossible to express the sentiment—it comes out sounding childishly short and bratty. “It hurts.”

“I know,” is all he says, soft and lilting and quite possibly as gentle as you’ve ever heard him. “Close your eyes, sweet girl.”

His tone of voice is the only thing that compels you to listen. You finally do as he says and flutter your eyes shut, overly aware of the hard grimace on your face now that you can’t see anything. One of his hands releases you while keeping your numb fingers laced between his, and then a few seconds pass, before you suddenly feel soft lips pressing against your knuckle.

You hiss and tighten up on instinct, more in fear of the pain than the pain itself, but he holds your hand steady as he carefully trails gentle presses of his lips against your knuckles. After a moment, you breathe out shakily, your eyebrows lifting just slightly at the sensation—before his mouth opens and his warm tongue glides delicately across your sensitive skin.

You gasp and your fingers twitch in between his, suddenly able to move again. They knock against cool metal as his tongue slowly drags down the valleys between your knuckles—but then Din abruptly drops your hand at the sudden sound of sunshine giggles coming from afar. Your eyes pop open just as his helmet is yanked down over his jaw once more.

“Let’s…” He clears his throat through the modulator, taking a small step back. “Let’s go again.”

***

You collapse down into a pitiful little pile on the grass, trying to catch your breath. This is ridiculous. You somehow have tender bruises all over your body and yet you’re the only one who’s done any sort of hitting whatsoever.

“That’s fine, we can take a break,” Din says gruffly from above you, but you’re too tired to even comment on the sarcasm. You just groan, flopping down flat on your back while he sits in the grass next to you and silently waits for you to start breathing normally again.

“I hate this,” you pant, resting your numb hands against your forehead and squinting against the late afternoon sun. “I don’t like this. My body hurts and I barely did anything.”

“You’re good at it,” Din is quick to respond, and the blunt sincerity in his voice takes you aback, making you glance over at him in shock. “I know,” he nods once the beskar turns and he sees the look on your face, “I didn’t expect it either.”

His tendency to compliment you while simultaneously insulting you doesn’t go unnoticed, but if anything, you decide to take it as a testament to his honesty and comfort in your presence. Clearly he’d have no issue telling you if you were terrible at this.

Instead of responding, you lace your fingers behind your head and continue to just lay there, closing your eyes against the warm sunshine. It’s gorgeous here, you get why this planet is renown throughout the galaxy. Perfect weather, stunningly green rolling hills for miles, the gentle breeze dancing through the tall grass, brilliant white clouds suspended against a beautiful blue backdrop. The only thing that’s missing is—

“When can we go see the ocean?” You blurt up at the sky, unable to stop the words before they’re out of your mouth.

“What ocean?” Comes tiredly through the modulator, monotone and filtered as he shuffles into a more comfortable position.

“Any of them,” you immediately respond, shrugging your shoulders against the grass. “The closest one. I’m not picky.”

“…Naboo doesn’t have any oceans,” Din tells you blankly.

You startle slightly, jerking your head over at him. “What? But—but I saw it through the transparisteel when we dropped. This whole planet is practically covered in water.”

“It is,” he agrees with a tilt of his helmet, following you with the visor as you finally scramble to sit yourself upright. “But it’s all one big… body of water. Locals call it the Abyss, it stretches across the entire planet through a system of underground caves and tunnels. It only surfaces as rivers and lakes and swamplands, though. No ocean. Not really.”

“Oh.” It’s blank, but it’s… lacking. The sun glinting against metal gives you an excuse to subtly turn your head away from him, and you hold back your sigh of disappointment.

“What’s the matter?” He grunts after a moment, somehow succeeding in sounding mildly disinterested while still bothering to ask. He props his knee upright to rest his elbow on it, apparently able to read you better than ever as well.

“Nothing,” you say on instinct and shake your head, already knowing it’s dumb. You’re being dumb, there’ll be other planets with oceans—you just haven’t had the opportunity to go to one yet.

Din doesn’t say anything after that, but he also keeps the helmet subtly turned towards you, like he’s just… waiting. The quiet almost doesn’t sound quiet anymore, not when there’s such a loud unspoken question still lingering in it.

“It’s just,” you say after a moment, trying to smile, but it doesn’t feel real. It’s nothing more than a movement your mouth makes and it feels at odds with the mild disappointment you’re trying to hide. “I used to be a moisture farmer. Back on Arvala-7, where we first met.”

His continued silence tells you nothing. You don’t know whether he’s confused and you should elaborate, whether he understands and doesn’t need an explanation, whether he’s interested or disinterested. Nothing. So after another few more seconds of nothing, you decide to keep going.

“There's something about water that just… hits different when you spend your entire life on a planet without any,” you say quietly, picking at a few blades of grass by your knees instead of looking at him. “When I was a little girl, I used to think it was as rare in the rest of the galaxy as it was where I was born. A limited resource you had to farm from the atmosphere to drink, because it didn’t occur naturally in liquid form. It was… valuable. Delicate. Crystal clear—never saw more than a few dozen gallons of it at a time. Something to be cherished. Something you’d never want to waste even just dipping your hand into, because the dirt on your skin would contaminate it.”

You smile once more, but this time it feels a little bit better. “You know… the first shower I took on the Crest the day I left that Maker-forsaken planet was the first time I ever felt my hair get wet. We only ever had sonic showers on Arvala-7.” And stars, the memory of it makes you want to shudder. Ultrasonic waves vibrating the dirt and sweat off your body sounds a lot more thorough than it actually is. You never felt truly clean until you were soaking wet on the Crest with shampoo in your hair, giggling like a child in the fresher while you made yourself a soapy little beard.

It springboards into another memory—the moment you first reached for a towel after showering, catching a glimpse of your hands and startling at the sight of your wrinkled, pruny fingertips. You’d never heard of such a phenomena before that point. You thought you’d asked Kuiil about everything, but to be entirely fair, he might not have even realized it happened, not from the leathery texture of his xenospecies’ skin. The questions he did answer for you were plenty though, and you suddenly remember something he said to you years ago that was so jarring and unexpected that it’s stuck with you to this day.

“Kuiil told me once that water was loud,” you suddenly hear yourself say, and though your soft laugh is nostalgic and sincere, you don’t know why, but you instantly tear up as soon as the words leave your mouth. “Loud. How could—could water be loud? What… what noise would it make?”

You sniff and continue to pick at the grass, a bit more vigorously this time, purposefully keeping your eyes down and blinking quickly. “He said… he said streams and brooks… b-bubble. They bubble. And rain… rain is like static—like white noise, but… natural. Not generated by a machine. He said the ocean is the loudest, though. It roars. It’s powerful.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing up, you try to distract yourself from the memory of your close friend by looking out at the wavy grass, trying to see if you can spot the kid being dwarfed by it. You can’t, not from this low angle, but you can still hear him playing happily in the distance.

“I’ve seen all the others now, thanks to you,” you confess quietly. “Rain, rivers, lakes—but I always wanted to see an ocean. A big, scary one, where the sound would just be… deafening. Water, tons of it, crashing up against rocks and filling the air with mist. Used to dream about them. Wanted to see something I used to think was rare fill my entire field of view. Wanted to see something I always thought was precious turn into something formidable.”

Din continues staring silently at you through your peripheral while you keep picking at the grass absently.

“I just—I don’t know.” You finally look over at him and sigh, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “I just always dreamed of a place where I could go, a place where I could open my eyes and all I’d be able to see—all I could hear—was water.”

You stop talking after that, having run out of things to say and realizing you probably shared a little too much without ever being prompted. The sunlight is gentle and easy, however, and it encourages you to close your eyes and just breathe, letting silent, eternal gratitude to the man next to you fill you. You’d never know any sun that isn’t harsh, you’d never know the greenness of the tall grass in this sprawling field had he not found you, given you a chance to tag along the galaxy with him and his carnivorous little sidekick.

The sun begins making you sleepy the more you sit here in the middle of paradise, eyes closed and tasting the gorgeous air in your lungs. But eventually, Din stands up and steps in front of you, opening both of his bare palms towards the setting sky and bouncing them up and down a few times. “Up. Come on. I’ll teach you how to throw an uppercut before nightfall.”

You groan but lift your hands in his direction all the same, trying not to wince while you make grabby fingers at him, your knuckles slightly bruised and red. He sighs and wraps his hands purposefully around your elbows, urging you up as he takes a few steps backwards.

It’s awkward. You’re still feeling lazy and droopy-eyed, and the cool shadow he casts makes you even more sleepy. You think he’s going to help more than you have to pull yourself up, and he clearly thinks he’s there to be your platform instead of your forklift. What results is just you being dragged uselessly by your arms in front of him, until your torso and legs are stretched in an uncomfortable J-shape on the ground and your forehead bumps into his lower tummy.

He stops and holds you there, before grunting out, “Use your feet.”

“Just let me fall,” you tell him, your lips brushing against the dark fabric while your shoulders and spine pull tight at this angle. “Just leave me here like this.”

The sigh he makes above you feels like he puts his whole entire being into it. Din leaves you propped up against him for a second while he grumbles and readjusts his hold further up near your shoulders, before he maneuvers you until you’re gently settling down on your knees in the grass.

You think (hope) he’s going to release you and let you take a nap, but then you gasp when he shifts and the toe of his boot suddenly wedges itself between your closed thighs. He lifts up on your arms just slightly, enough to take the weight off your knees so he can swipe his foot out and kick one of them open, before plopping you back down again and letting you go.

Up until that point, you’d been good. You were content with being boneless for him and seeing how he’d deal, but then he gracefully crouches down in front of you and wraps one powerful arm around your back, hugging you tight to his chest. Din’s open thighs frame your kneeling figure and you can feel his cock pressed against your tummy from this angle, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

For some reason, he decides to take this next part slow. Maybe it’s because he can probably feel the way your heart is starting to kick up against his unarmored chest right now, but he drags it out. Broad shoulder dropping and his helmet finding a home in the crook of your neck, Din braces you to his chest with one arm while the other slithers down the curve of your ass and then under—his forearm pressing firmly between your cheeks and then his open palm flattening tight along the length of your pussy from behind.

You moan softly next to the helmet while he works the thick muscles in his thighs to gradually lift you both from the ground. Maker, the tips of his fingers are curved hard against your slit through your pants while he rises, pulling you up until gravity causes your thighs to slowly meet around his hand and your legs to dangle.

The feat of strength turns you on just as much as his choice of positioning does. Fuck, you know you’re not the lightest person in the galaxy, but Din carefully sets you down on your feet without even so much as a grunt of effort, his hand staying tucked tight between your legs for longer than necessary. Biting your lip and pressing your face into his shoulder does nothing to stop the quiet whimper you make when he decides to grind his strong fingers up into you just a bit.

“Din,” you whisper, wanting to melt into him, but then he’s instantly ripping his hand away and taking a step back.

You nearly fall over at the sudden lack of support after relying solely on him for it for so long, but you don’t even have enough time to open your mouth in upset. There’s just a split second before a green blur bursts through the tall grass with a squeal and trips over the baggy potato sack around his body.

It’s like it happens in slow motion. You both watch as he flies forward, skidding more than once on the ground and then landing face-down on your shoe, the little thump on your foot feeling so adorably anticlimactic after all the buildup.

Nobody moves for a second, except for the way your eyes flicker up at the visor currently tilted towards the ground. You can tell Din is just holding his breath, just waiting to see if—

A hiccup. You see broad shoulders tighten under the dark fabric, and then a sudden piercing wail is released against your shoe.

“Shit,” Din curses, already scooping the little thing up and bouncing him slightly to pacify him. You bite your lip against the way his ears flop from the movement and he screams even louder. “Hey hey hey, stop. Stop it. Stop crying.”

“Uh oh! Where’d your little friend go?” You ask while Din immediately turns the kid around to face you, your voice pitched soft and high in your register as you step closer. “Did you eat him already?”

He just shudders out a cry, probably an affirmative, his mouth dropping and his little teeth peeking through while he sobs and his giant eyes well with tears.

“Shit,” Din curses again, this time in defeat, but you won’t give up that easy.

“Hey—hey goose, wanna see me beat your daddy up?” You ask, lightly booping the little bump of his nose. “Huh? Wanna see me fight?” You pull your top lip up into a ridiculous little snarl and flex your arms threateningly, and the sobs suddenly stutter to a stop within a few breaths. “Op, yep. See—he knows I’ll kick your ass, Din, he just got scared.”

“Please,” the modulator pfftts quietly, but the kid just blinks at you while you keep growling.

“I’ll hurt him real bad,” you promise him, putting your fists up in front of you and bouncing your weight back and forth like a prized boxing champ. “I’ll, uh…” your list of trash talk repertoire is admittedly rather short, and both of them wait in silence for you to figure it out, the bigger one a lot less entertained than his miniature counterpart. “I’ll punch him just. So hard. So hard that… it’ll bruise. Yeah—I’ll make him bleed underneath his skin.”

“No, this is good, keep going,” Din encourages after a moment of awkward silence. “Maybe you’ll be able to find your way there at some point.”

You ignore him, bobbing and ducking and then popping him one good in the shoulder with an accompanying vocal sound effect—except you quickly jerk your hand away and shake your wrist out, staring up at the helmet like he deeply offended you and mouthing, “Ow.”

A smile. The smallest ghost of one, but you see it on the kid’s teeny green mouth when you flick your eyes down to him.

So, Din spends the rest of the lingering daylight teaching you the proper uppercut technique while he cradles an adorable little bug-eyed baby in one arm. You keep making faces at him while throwing your fist up against his dad’s extended, downturned palm, until he finally starts giggling again.

***

Whelp, turns out you’re a fucking idiot. Or maybe just a selfish bitch, either way. Not a good look.

You thought, from the way the lovely afternoon went, that you were getting better at reading Din. Knowing when to joke around, when to keep pushing, and when to stop talking, all from just his body posture and tone of voice alone. But you’re also an idiot, as you’ve already established.

As you three headed back to the Crest through the dusky twilight evening, you remember telling Din that if there weren’t any oceans on Naboo, then you’ll at least be able to sleep in a bed on this planet. A real one, one with a—oh stars, an actual mattress. The word alone sent shivers down your spine, and the baby cooed while blinking his eyes slowly, well on his way to being tuckered out from the long day outside.

You don’t remember Din directly responding, but then again, that isn’t really all that rare in the grand scheme. Granted, he was arguably more talkative today than ever before, and he did get a little bit quieter after that, but still, you couldn’t have known. Only an incredibly hyper-observant person would’ve noticed in the moment—you’re lucky you can even recall this much in hindsight.

Though, this next part should’ve been more of a direct giveaway. Once you were in the Crest, he put his armor back on.

You still didn’t think. It’s such a normal thing, the beskar fitting tight to magnetic plates around his shoulders, thighs, and chest. It’s normal, he wears it all the time. Having him walking around in broad daylight sans armor and gloves today was odd, that was the outlier.

He flew the vessel to the nearest town, a quaint little village on the edge of a gorgeously full forest. The ride was as gentle as possible—you were feeling soft and decided to hold the baby as he drifted off instead of placing him in the quiet darkness of his cradle. The ears tend to make things a bit awkward, but after months of practice with it, you’re now a pro at rocking the little guy to sleep in your arms.

Din’s continued silence didn’t bother you—or really even register, considering you were trying to be quiet as well. He slung your go-bag around his shoulder and pressed a few buttons on his vambrace to set the kid’s sphere protocols to follow behind him, before pressing a gloved palm to your lower back and leading you down the ramp, the sleepy baby tucked tight into your arms.

There were people in the village mingling while you three walked down the cobblestone path to the nearest inn, giving your ragtag group double-takes as you passed. The innkeeper, however, was blind. Not only did you not receive the same terrified courtesy the barkeep on Canto Bight had afforded you before, but he was clearly used to spotting and swindling newcomers, sightless or not.

“Only room left’s a suite,” he drawled, the cloudy whites of his pupils hovering just between your left shoulder and Mando’s right pauldron. “Five hundred credits a night.”

The color drained from your face, your heart doing a giant flip in your chest and completely fucking up the landing. You turned to Mando to reassure him that absolutely nothing about this was necessary, but he was already dropping the ridiculous amount of credits on the desk without a single word.

That should’ve been the nail in the coffin, to be honest. His immediate willingness to hand over that many credits without the slightest protest, grumble, or sigh was the kicker—that’s how you should’ve known something wasn’t right. He didn’t even allow you to split the cost when you offered to reimburse him on the way to the room.

But again. You’re an idiot, so.

At least the suite is gorgeous. Slightly old-fashioned and moonlit enough to skip even flicking the lights on, illuminated by large open windows with views of the village streets and sprawling mountains and forest beyond. Everything inside is either cream or white, so clean and soft, and being able to feel the breeze billowing through the gauzy curtains is just. After months of traveling in that enclosed ship, it’s restorative. Almost nothing in here is made of metal.

So it’s not until right now—almost immediately after you settled the kid down into the incredibly large guest bed and walked into the master bedroom to find Mando sitting perfectly still on the edge of the mattress—now something feels off. He looks so out of place as you quietly snap the door shut behind you. The enormous floor to ceiling window decorating the far side of the room bathes him in pale light, highlights the blaster marks and bits of dirt clinging to the beskar as he sits on the bed.

“You’re going to get the sheets all dirty,” you, an idiot, tell him, your voice barely above a murmur. “Take off your—”

“I can’t,” he rushes, though he jumps up from the mattress all the same. You snap your mouth shut and freeze. “It’s safe here but it’s… it’s still not a good idea, not if I want to sleep. Not with people around, and all these… windows.”

The words send you reeling. You had no idea, you thought… “Oh. I’m sorry, that—”

You immediately go silent, feeling absolutely fucking awful. You didn’t think. All you could think about was that bed underneath you, and you maybe… blindfolded in some way? And then of course, him, in it—completely naked, helmet off, and laying next to you.

“You’re okay,” Mando tells you with a shrug, not sounding like… anything. He looks like he’s about to say something else—his chestplate lifts with an inhale as he turns to you, but then seems to stop right as he’s about to speak.

“Shit—please sit on the bed, I don’t care if you’re dirty,” you quickly say, just as he blurts out, “You can still take your clothes off though.”

You blink at him for a second, not sure you heard him right. “…What did y—”

“You can, uh.” His voice is soft. “I can… lay down. On top of the sheets. In my armor, just like this, and then you can take your clothes off and just. Rub up on me a little bit. If you want.”

A shudder quite suddenly rockets down your spine at the tone of his voice, the quiet, slightly hesitant murmur through the modulator. The gulp you take is audible through the room, the only other sound being the closest trees rustling in the breeze outside. The spread curtains dance with it, but they’re too sheer and light to make a noise. “O-Okay.”

“Yeah?” He asks lowly, and you quickly nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your body beginning to tingle, “sit—sit back down.”

He goes to move but then abruptly stops, and you hold your breath while you watch the visor jerk just a fraction to pin you in place. Something instantly feels… different about him, a silent shift taking place within just a singular moment. Like he all of a sudden realized that he didn’t actually like that very much.

Instead of acquiescing, Mando slowly steps in front of you, straightening up to his full height and absolutely dwarfing you with it, and your palms start to sweat. Maker, when he speaks, it sends shivers down your body and the last thing you hear in his voice is hesitation.

“Take off your clothes,” he tells you, a dangerous edge to his soft tone. The quiet dominance in it feels like the floor beneath you rumbles from it.

On instinct, your eyes flick over his shoulder to the open window and the village outside. It’s barely been a few hours since sundown—townspeople are strolling down winding streets in the distance, ghostly moonlight mixes with the warm glow from large oil lamps lining the pubs and street corners.

You look back at him barely a split second later as he stands there in front of you, waiting.

You startle and immediately move to grab at the hem of your shirt, and your fingers unintentionally tremble as they start to pull it up.

“Stop.”

His voice breaks through the silence, the modulated order halting your movements immediately. You blink up at him, letting your shirt drop back down again, and Mando takes a second to look back at you, studying you from under the beskar.

“Go stand by the window,” he suddenly says, lazily tilting the helmet to gesture at it.

Your blood pounds in your ears during the still moments following, the thrill of it making you nearly go deaf for a second. After you recover from the visceral heatwave that rockets through you, you slowly walk over to the window and then turn your back on the ballooning curtains to look at him. The beskar is still pinned to you over his shoulder, though the rest of his body hasn’t moved.

“Turn around,” he tells you, and you shakily do as he says, rotating to face the open window. You’re close enough to make out people’s expressions from here—friends mingling as they stroll down the sidewalk, their mouths moving but their voices and laughter muted at this distance. An outdoor restaurant serving local cuisine to patrons and out-of-towners, a violinist and cellist performing a silent duet on the street corner.

There’s shuffling behind you. The creak of the bedframe as he lowers himself on it and moves around, before eventually coming to a rest in what you assume is a comfortable position.

“You can keep going,” eventually comes his filtered voice from the bed.

Your eyelashes dip and flutter as more hot sparks of arousal kindle deep in your floor muscles. Lifting your shirt up over your head has never felt like such high stakes before, but even as the fabric falls to the ground, your gaze continuously searches for anyone outside who may catch a glimpse. Though, you’re not sure if it’s in dread or some kind of sick excitement.

The breeze hardens your nipples while you work at your pants, and the hair on your arms stands up when you remember who’s behind you, silently watching you get turned on by this. Along with your underwear, your pants are pushed down your thighs, but instead of moving back from the pool around your ankles, you take a purposeful step forward towards the open window.

“Fuck—you dirty little thing,” you hear him breathe out, and a shiver rolls through you. “Tell me how many people you can see right now, count them.”

You try your best, but give up halfway through and provide a rough estimate. “F-Fifteen.”

“Scanner says seventeen from here,” Mando challenges lowly. “Seventeen pairs of eyes that can look up any second and see your naked body. Stripped bare, shaking, vulnerable. Your gorgeous fucking tits.”

As hard as your teeth dig into your bottom lip at the rasp through the modulator, your nails dig into your palms even harder. Still, you don’t move, and the open drapes flick and brush against your thighs as you hold there, the gentle wind doing absolutely nothing to cool your flushed skin down.

And oh, he waits. He’s good about that, especially when he can probably read your infrared signature through the helmet right now. You’re surprised you haven’t outright blinded him by how white-hot your body feels. But after what feels like a small eternity, he eventually murmurs, “Come over here.”

Once you turn around and see the way he’s just laying back on the bed, relaxing and enchanted with the show, it’s a miracle you don’t trip on anything with how quickly you hurry towards him. You’re already standing next to the edge of the mattress by the time you even register his body is subtly tilted so that his boots are hanging purposefully off the side of it.

Regardless of the hard dominance he’s exhibiting, the symbolic gesture somehow feels like it flips a switch inside you and lights up pure, aching adoration for him. But against every instinct screaming at you to just scramble on top of him and show him how much you appreciate his thoughtfulness, you wait. You wait for him to tell you what to do.

His glove lifts, comes up to gently touch the side of your face and cradle your jaw, and you have to clamp your hands together to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Are you wet?” Mando murmurs, sounding like his lips barely even brush against each other when they move under the beskar. You don’t trust yourself to say anything without it turning into a desperate plea, so you just close your eyes and jerk your head in a nod, feeling your cheek graze against the leather on his palm with the movement. It’s hard to swallow when your mouth feels so dry, and he lets you just suffer there and tremble for him a little while longer, letting out a quiet hum through the modulator as his thumb carefully rides the line of your cheekbone.

Maker, where does all this fucking patience come from? Under normal circumstances, Mando is probably one of the most impatient people you’ve ever met, and yet. It’s like he stores it all up. Hoards it and refuses to dip into it most of the time—perfectly content to have a quick temper in most interactions, if only so that he can keep it handy for moments like this. If only so he can have a seemingly endless supply of patience to sustain him while your average-sized stockpile is gradually and inevitably being depleted.

“You want to get up here with me?” He asks quietly, and stars, that’s still not a directive, no matter how much it could casually imply one. The ridiculous thing is—he never even told you this was expected of you. Not once did he tell you to follow his words like they're gospel, not once did he say there was something wrong with speaking directly to him without prompting, or acting without explicit instruction. He never even implied anything like that at all, but you still hold your body completely rigid as you jerk a nod against his palm once more.

Stars, it just isn’t fair. He doesn’t look any different from how he looks every single day—there’s no patch of golden skin to tease you, beskar is covering him head to toe, but you’re hotter for him than you think you’ve ever been. He’s stretched out long on the bed, a portion of him darkened by your silhouette but the rest bathed in gorgeous moonlight, breathing slow as he takes you in. You stare silently at the visor, and for some reason, you—you’re quite suddenly struck with how gorgeous he could secretly be under there and you’ll just… you’ll never know. You know his hair is thick and dark, you know the softness of his mouth, the sunkissed color of his skin, the prominent nose and straight teeth on the rare but blissful occasions he’d let you kiss him. His eyes, though. They could be any color. Your credits have been on brown for a while, but the thought of you not knowing for sure… the thought of you actually having to ask him something like that is just—it makes you ache to touch him even more. To give him something tangible at least, when you know the only way to ever have a true visual connection with him is with a dark visor between you.

You try to let the sentiment transfer through your needy expression, hoping he can read it from there. His cock is hard—you can see it in your peripheral, pressing up against the dark fabric of his pants, but it’s like you’re the only one who notices. He’s still admiring your face, or fuck, maybe he’s looking at your body—you can never tell for sure, but regardless, you stare purposefully at wherever you think his eyes ought to be, silently pleading with him and starting to get desperate.

Finally—fucking finally, the helmet rocks to the side just slightly, just the smallest tilt of his head towards his body, but the nonverbal invitation is enough. Air you didn’t realize was even in your lungs suddenly whooshes out of you as you all but launch forwards onto the mattress to try and climb on top of him.

—Except, then his hand quickly drops from your face to press firm against your thighs, blocking the way your far leg tries to lift to swing over him in a straddle. Disappointment crashes through you with an audible whimper and you start to panic a little bit as you shakily plant both knees back on the bed, wondering what you possibly did wrong. Was it because he didn’t specifically say it was okay? Was he just testing your obedience?

The beskar vambrace feels cool against your burning skin, and you try not to let the trembling of your body manifest itself in your breathing as Mando lazily drags his glove along your thighs. Neither one of you says anything as he eventually trails his hand back and around, leather fingers coming to a rest between your legs while his thumb rides high, just under the curve of your ass.

And then he slowly starts pulling, before he gradually leads the leg closest to him up and over his body instead, until you’re settling into a straddle on top of his hips. Backwards.

Everything in you shudders violently as both gloves gently trail up the length of your naked back, letting you brace your hands on the beskar strapped to his thighs and settle on top of him.

“Look at that,” he hums, letting his hands fall back down to the meat of your ass, grabbing handfuls of it and squeezing hard enough to make you bite back a gasp. “Fucking pretty. Pretty girl. Stars, I fucking love looking at you, know that?”

The praise makes you mewl quietly and spread your knees even further, dropping your hips down until the underside of his cock presses up tight into your aching pussy. You arch your back and walk your hands forward just a bit, just until you’re holding onto his knees and you have the right angle to start slowly rocking your body back and forth.

“Maker,” you whisper, your head tipping back while you drag your pussy against his pulsing erection, and his hands keep massaging your ass while the words start falling out of you now that you released the floodgate. “Maker, I love your body. So big, and—and strong. Fucking hard, thick cock. Fuck, I love your cock. I love how fucking hard you get—”

“Bend over,” Mando breathes out behind you, his hands suddenly releasing fistfuls of your ass to grab around your hips and bring you to a stop. “Fuck, keep talking like that, but show me your—just let me… let me look at it.”

Your heart slams against your sternum, your clit pulsing against the hard ridge of his cock, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Slowly, you bend your upper body over until your tummy lays flat along the cool beskar shielding his thighs and your tits are pressed against his kneecaps. Your arms are long enough to rest your hands on his ankles like this, and your thighs are spread wide to keep your cunt pushed up against his cock. But stars, you know he has a perfect view right now. The slick lips of your pussy smearing against his dark pants, both holes on full display for him in the moonlight.

“Keep—Keep talking,” Mando reminds you after a moment, sounding painfully turned on while his cock jumps against your clit. “Keep going. Use it, get yourself off. Let me watch.”

“Fuck, I love your cock,” you hear yourself repeat, breathless and needy as your hips start grinding down against him once more, the words coming from you without giving them any thought whatsoever. He grunts and pushes it up for you, letting you get at it easier. “I think about it all the time. Think about the first time I felt it, how you were already rock fucking hard for me when I touched you. You came so quick, right in my hand, in your pants—it was so fucking hot.”

“I’d had—” he grits out in his defense, “—shit, I’d had a… a rough day, and your hands were. Fuck, s-soft, and—”

“Maybe,” you concede, biting your lip and closing your eyes against the swirling pleasure spreading hot through your body, the heat that burns you alive hearing the familiar warble through the modulator when he’s starting to lose himself in pleasure. “Or maybe it was because you were half-conscious with a brand new scar on your back.”

His filtered groan rolls down your spine and his cock pulses hard against your cunt through the fabric of his pants, making you spasm in delight. Fuck, your head drops down completely, just dragging yourself back and forth on top of him as you chase your orgasm like this. Shameless—your ass flexing in front of him with every roll of your hips, your lower muscles fluttering with every drag against his cock.

“Fuck—fuck, let me touch your asshole,” Mando whispers suddenly, lifting himself up on one elbow and dragging the other hand up the curve of your cheek. “Just—just a little bit, I won’t pu—”

“Oh stars above, fucking please,” you gasp against one of his legs, nearly jerking back against his hand as your pussy fucking leaks through his pants with it. “I’ll let you do anything you want, you can—can put your thumb inside it—”

His other hand leaves you for a split second, and you think he’s taking his glove off, except then it swings down to crack hard against your ass, making you gasp and instantly go still for him on his lap.

The smooth leather covering the pad of his thumb carefully glides down your crevice, and you hold your breath until it finally brushes over the tight ring of muscle flexing for him.

“That all you’ll let me put in here?” Mando asks quietly, and you let out a complete mess of a whimper, trying your best not to move under the bold touches.

You get another firm smack on the ass for being rendered mute for too long. “Tell me,” he growls, rubbing his thumb against the vulnerable entrance while his cock throbs against your cunt.

“I’ll—I’ll let you do anything you want,” you moan once more, and stars, you can’t help it. Your hips start to grind down against him even harder than before, and Mando curses as he slowly rides your movements with his hand.

“Dirty,” he grits out. “Dirty girl. You ever take it back here before?” And stars, the way his cock drags against your pussy starts to make you lightheaded, how casually he’s talking about this while starting to circle his thumb around it and press firm against it. Not hard enough to push inside, but enough to feel the natural resistance give just a bit.

“No,” you breathe, starting to pant while you work against him. “Boys have tried. But I’d let you.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, suddenly rocking his hips up against yours. You nearly choke and your legs start to lock up, making your movements stunted. “Fuck. I bet you’d let me do it right fucking now, wouldn’t you? Right here in front of this f-fucking window, where everyone can see? Let me flip you over and stretch you out, and then fuck your tight little—virgi—”

“Maker, get your cock out,” you gasp, heat burning at your center and beginning to spread outwards. It tingles hot through your lower abdomen and you start to get frantic, knowing you don’t have much time before your orgasm hits. “Please, just let me ride it, let me cum on it—”

“No,” Mando immediately grunts, and you make a small sound of distress that quickly turns into a high-pitched mewl against his leg when the very tip of his thumb just barely breaches the haloed entrance.

“But—but I’m so wet,” you whisper, “oh stars, can’t you see it? I’m dripping. You could just slide it right in right now, I’d take it so fucking easy—”

He rips his hand away just long enough to smack your ass once again, hard enough to ring through the room and make you gasp. “Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given and you’ll endure,” he snaps. “Not here, not tonight.”

You bite back desperate protests. He’d fuck you in a dark alleyway on Canto Bight but not here? As if you haven’t already done so multiple times this evening, you immediately lament your stupid mouth and the thoughtless mattress comment. You wish you could take it all back—you don’t care how nice this bed is, you want to sleep in anything he’ll fuck you in. Nonetheless, your orgasm gallops forward and leaves your body struggling to keep up behind it—but Maker, you want so badly to feel him inside you when it finally hits. You want to sink down on him and feel him break you open just as you start to cum.

“Oh fuck, please give me it,” you whine, sounding on the edge of delirium, the words pressed high and unintentional as your hands clutch at his legs. “Oh Maker, please, please fuck me—fuck me in a real bed, please, just—fuck me right now and I swear I’ll sleep on fucking rocks for you every single night for the rest of m—”

A snarl rips through the modulator and he shoves your hips forward just enough, just enough to rip his waistband down—

You gasp in blinding relief and flip your head over your shoulder to watch, but then subtle movement catches in your peripheral. You glance up just in time to see the doorknob slowly turning.

Thank your lucky stars you react on instinct alone, squealing and jumping off him before quickly shuffling under the covers.

“What the fu—” comes an enraged, filtered growl, metal clanking with how quickly he flips over to reach for you, but then he cuts off and the helmet whips to the door as it unlatches and slowly creaks open.

The blankets are pulled tight under your chin as you shuffle down as far as possible, and though you can’t see the intruder from this angle, Mando is instantly reaching back to rip the pillow out from under the helmet and press it tight over his crotch, huffing out a sigh.

Soon, you’re able to spot one pointy little ear pop up, followed by the rest of the little gremlin scaling the treacherously tall comforter, pulling himself over the edge of the mattress with a determined three-finger hold and then doing a completely unnecessary little barrel roll once he’s on the level springtop. The fact that it’s so fucking adorable just serves to irk you even more, and both of you silently watch the kid push himself up on two feet and then waddle slowly in between you two.

He finds a pillow he likes—one that happens to be placed directly in between you and his dad, before he settles himself down on it like a small bed on top of a much larger one. The little stinker then flutters his abnormally giant eyes closed and seems to instantly fall back asleep.

There’s a few minutes where you just blink across from Mando, flicking your gaze between the chrome visor and the baby’s peaceful face. Is this… is he serious right now?

“Were we being too loud?” You eventually whisper, barely above a breath. “Or is he just being purposefully annoying?”

He doesn’t answer you. And, well, you suppose he has a point. Regardless of why, it appears he's here now.

You let out a slow breath and just try and relax, try and think beyond the flare of annoyance at the interruption, how close you were to feeling him fuck you into this mattress. He’d still have the armor and helmet on, of course, but it would be just domestic enough to ruin you.

But then again—you suppose this, if anything, is even more domestic. Doing your best to calm your racing thoughts so you can eventually fall asleep directly across from him with his mildly aggravating, heartstealing little adopted kid snoring quietly between you.

Quite a while passes before you feel your eyelids growing heavy. You spend almost the entire time studying every single inch of Mando while he faces you on the mattress. The sharp angles and smooth curves of his helmet, concave in places but convex in others. How fitting, you think. To cover a man with a helmet just like him—sharp, smooth, contrasting, and deflective enough about what lies underneath to be reflective.

Then you find yourself thinking about what he’s hiding under it. Once more. You try to picture him, but it’s… it’s difficult. You’re not used to translating things you’ve only touched into visual representations, it’s just not a skill you’ve ever needed to have handy. And what about all the things you can’t, or haven’t been able to feel? Freckles, or birthmarks? Dimples? Are his lashes long or short? Do they stick out in a fringe when he clamps his eyes shut? Does his nose scrunch up when he laughs? Do his ears stick out? Does he have wrinkles on his forehead, or around his eyes?

Maker, what color are they?

You continue to stare at the metal faceplate, blinking droopily at it but forcing yourself to stay awake just a bit longer. Enjoy the feeling of the soft mattress underneath you while you still can, relaxing into the cool sheets and delaying your inevitable descent into dreams. Savoring his extended presence here with you for as long as possible.

“Do you have brown eyes?” You hear yourself murmur to him through the quiet darkness, lips barely touching and the words slurred from exhaustion. You want to know. You want to be able to color in the last paint-by-number of his face before you begin your work on the finer details.

Again, he doesn’t answer, and you figure he’s probably asleep.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #no-droids

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