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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 1 year ago

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COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 3 - 3.7K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

_________________

“Are you sure? No shame in staying behind.” Shadowheart said as she adjusted the last strap on the dark justicar armor she lent you. She looked concerned and wary.

“I’m sure, like you said, we are just going to a cemetery to talk to Raphael then come back. Sounds easy enough.” You shrugged. No wonder everyone’s movement in the game was limited, armor is heavy as shit.

Shadowheart paused, “How did you know it’s Raphael? I only said we had a devil to see…” she trailed off.

“Oh, umm…. With what you’ve told me this sounds like a Raphael thing… he has a certain flare for the dramatics that’s hard to miss.” You deflected trying so hard to sound casual.

Shadowheart hummed but you could tell she was… suspicious. Before you could spiral into an anxious heap, Astarion walked swiftly between the two of you. Hitting your shoulder unnecessarily he said “Are we going to stand around all day coddling them or shall we go?”

He always looked so pissed to be in your general vicinity and you noticed it more and more since the night you showed the group your phone. It had been a week since then, you worked with everyone to build your skills up. Everyone was pretty comfortable around you as of late, Karlach even going as far as to say she trusts you. So why was he the exception? You hadn’t done anything negative towards him? Was he upset about his reflection? Maybe you shouldn’t have sprung that on him? Whatever it was, it was making you both anxious and annoyed.

Truth be told, you were still kinda new to playing Baldur's Gate III in your world. The last save you remember was finishing the last trial in The Gauntlet of Shar. You just hope your limited knowledge might be useful somehow. You have to be mindful however. Little slips like the one with Shadowheart, showcasing that you knew more than you let on, could cause unexpected consequences. You had a few similar slip ups throughout the week but were thankfully able to brush them off. And you still had no idea how to tell them about you, the real you. You decided to keep it hidden for now, and when somebody inevitably asks you’ll tell them all.

——————————

You stepped through the portal with Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart. It left your body tingling for a moment. You looked around and vaguely recognized where you were. It’s definitely the Shadow Cursed Lands. The building in front of you looked abandoned but everything in the lands looked abandoned. You started walking forwards to the door of the building. You don’t remember anything bad here from your gameplay. The doors opened and you saw the first person outside of your little jolly group of misfits. She looked like a nurse and didn’t appear to be hostile. The others walked behind you as you slowly walked towards her. She was dipping a sponge into a basin of bloody water and cleaning the leg of a corpse. There were two of them actually. Both dead on separate beds, arms outstretched towards each other.

“The doctor is quite busy today… you may wait in line to be seen.” The nurse said.

“Why are you cleaning corpses, surely there must be something better to do.” Astarion said, typical sass in his voice but also confusion.

“Corpse? They’re merely sleeping…” she said softly, continuing to clean.

“Mmmmm no, those are definitely dead.” He responded, tapping the lid of a nearby jar.

The nurse turned to look at Astarion. “Perhaps I should turn my services elsewhere?” She said dropping the sponge back into the bowl. She pulled out a bone saw and started walking towards him. His eyes widened.

“Sister, look…” you said, pointing towards the bodies. Her head instantly snapped away from Astarion.

“Oh sister they’ve been so well tended to. They sleep like angels. They must be so grateful.” You said, eyeing Astarion as if trying to tell him to back up and shut up.

She dropped the bone saw, grabbing your hands. They were cold and shaking. “Truly? These hands… the doctor must be notified of all patient improvements.” She said starting to walk towards the center of the house where a heavy closed door laid.

“Wait!” You said quickly.

She looked at you, head cocked to the side.

“Your patients will wake soon. Who is lovelier to wake up to than their doting nurse? You stay, I’ll notify the doctor.” You smiled at her.

She shook her head vigorously, “Right, they need me. The doctor is in surgery right now… wait for him there.” She pointed at the large door before grabbing the sponge from the bowl. “Take these will you?” She asked, dropping two rings in your hands. Shadowblade rings. They were Arabella’s parents.

You pocketed them quickly and thanked the sister before silently backing up and walking away.

“Is that your talent? Comforting deranged nurses?” Astarion jabbed.

You elected to ignore him, not feeding into his negativity.

You walked into the operating theater. The doctor had just removed a man’s eyes, the sisters cutting him randomly and harshly. Your eyes widened and you fought the urge to throw up. Seeing this in a game and in real life we’re vastly different and this was insanely more disturbing.

Your foot hit some debris on the floor, notifying everyone of your existence.

“Are you here to aid in surgery? I asked for an attending hours ago…” said the doctor, flinging the man’s eyes off into a corner of the room.

“Yes… of course doctor my apologies.” You detach yourself from your group. The man on the operating table whimpered and whined. His throat was all raw from the endless screaming you imagined. You walked closer to the man. The doctor handed you one of the nurses knives.

You took it gently, the man continued to struggle against his confines. You looked at your companions, they looked at you with just as much anxiety as you felt.

“Be ready” you mouthed to Karlach. She nodded, your companions slowly moving into different locations.

You looked to the doctor who was holding a bone saw. You weren’t exactly in the *best* spot for a battle to start. Let alone your first battle. Let’s just hope somebody likes you enough to give Withers a little gold if the worst happens.

You swiftly plunged the knife into the doctors throat, shoving the nurse next to you as you grabbed your sword. Lae’zel gave you The Cruel Sting for your first time outside of camp, bless her angry ass. You swung at the nurse on the opposite side of you, the sword ensnared her. The nurses spread out, your companions taking them on. The doctor turned his focus to you. “Petulant child…” he said before knocking you on your back, he held his bone saw under your chin. “Don’t fret, I’ll be sure to cure you of your…. Affliction.” He laughed while tapping his head.

You held your arm up just in time for the bone saw to clatter against your armor. Karlach shot her bow at him as soon as she saw you on the ground. The air stunk of drow poison and that seemed to be enough to turn the doctors attention. You scurried off the ground, driving your sword through him as he faced away from you. Karlach hit him with a reckless attack and the doctor dropped to the ground, finally dead. The hall was quiet except for everyone’s heavy breaths.

You smiled at Karlach, impressed with yourself. The smile quickly faltered as you looked down and saw one of the nurses blades in between the metal plates of your armor. Karlach immediately turned and struck down the dying nurse. Shadowheart turned you quickly and pulled the knife out. You screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the theater. She spoke a healing spell over you, but her brow drew up in confusion.

“It’s not working.” She whispered.

“The fuck do you mean it’s not working? Fix it!” You yelled. You could feel the blood seeping through the different parts of your armor. Down your stomach, over your thighs…

“I’m trying!” She yelled back, rattling off another spell.

Karlach popped open a potion of healing, she grabbed your face and tilted your head back forcing the bottle to your lips. It tasted like wine; you could feel it envelop your body. As if it were coursing through you seeking out pain. You felt it stitch your wound together sloppily. You cried in pain as it felt like fire putting you back together. You lifted your armor, the wound was partially healed but that would have to do until you got back to camp.

Karlach and Shadowheart asked if you were ok, sympathetic as they both know battle is new to you. Battle wounds are common but you never forget your first.

“Your first battle scar! Congrats soldier.” Karlach said, trying to lighten the mood.

You blubbered out a chuckle, readjusting your armor.

“I’m sorry we were here to see Raphael, yes?” Astarion said walking out to the graveyard without the rest of you.

You sighed and began walking, doing your best not to grimace.

———————-

Everyone listened intently to Raphael. He told Astarion everything you already knew. You had zoned out a bit, hand ghosting over your wound every few minutes.

“And you…” Raphael said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down like a meal.

You closed your eyes desperately wanting to disappear. Of course the devil would know you weren’t of their world.

“Different aren’t you?” He said grabbing your hand, a swift prick to one of your fingers had you snatching your hand back. Raphael dipped the nail into his mouth, swirling your blood on his tongue.

“Mmmm, very different. You’re not from here are you? Strange that you ended up with this lot. You’re far more valuable elsewhere. Have you told your new friends about you? What do they really know and what do you hide?” Raphael smiled as he looked at the others.

They all had their eyes on you. Leave it to the devil to make it sound like you were trying to infiltrate their party.

“Stop.” You whispered at him, the tone of your voice begging him.

“No matter. I’ll see you in time, pet.” Raphael gave you a final smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“And you lot thought I was just being mean. If the devil says they can’t be trusted, what more is to be said?” Astarion asked aloud.

You winced again as your wound stung against the armor. Karlach moved towards you. She grabbed your arm gently, looking at the new red spreading through the cloth under your armor.

“We need to get back.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, flat and unwavering.

Everyone silently went through the portal back to camp.

————————

Gale patched up your wound so you could finally walk around comfortably. Happy to have the armor off of you, you walked to the campfire and began prepping dinner. Everyone else had gone to the stream to bathe or had retreated into their respective tents. You could tell that tonight may very well be the night you have to tell them all your secret. Why not soften the blow with some food?

You made them Baldurian mash since it was all you could think of given your limited ingredients. You set up bowls and spoons and different bottles of liquor for everyone. Just in time, you saw them all trudging up the hill in their night clothes. Everyone looked at you with doubt and caution.

Great.

Everyone smelled the food and silently made their way to the bonfire before dishing themselves their food and drinks. Before anyone could get a bite down Astarion yelled.

“Wait!” He jogged over to the fire.

“Are you sure we should be eating the food of someone who Raphael just told us was hiding things that seem to be of great importance?” He eyed the food and then you.

You scoffed thinking he was joking, and yet nobody took a bite.

You looked around, none of your companions meeting your eyes.

“I may have secrets but I don’t mean any of you harm…. You all are the closest thing I have to friends… I’d never hurt any of you.” You said, voice small but strong.

Astarion laughed, “Sounds like something somebody would say who is trying to kill us. Why else would you make all this?”

That’s it, you’ve had enough of fangs and his attitude towards you. You stood and took a large bite of the mash before taking a swig out of every open alcohol bottle.

“Proof enough for ya?” You asked, shoving past him. “I made all this because I wanted to be helpful. I want to be helpful because you all are my friends. I trust all of you even if you don’t trust me. So how about it fangs? Am I ok to stay or do you have anything else you wanna throw at me?”

Astarion could see the anger in your face. “Let’s just hope your culinary skills are better than your battle skills.” He said walking past you, shoving your shoulder with his.

Astarion expected the sniffle he heard from you.

“Astarion?” You asked.

“What?” He tutted, turning to face you.

What he didn’t expect was the punch that landed square in his face.

“Shit!” You immediately recoiled your hand, already feeling the bruising on your knuckles. You shook your hand out before saying your final piece,

“I have secrets it’s true. And I am happy to tell them to you as soon as I figure out how. But I don’t want to hurt any of you…”

“Excuse me?” Astarion said as he held his bleeding nose.

“Zip it! You have been nothing but spiteful towards me since I got here. I don’t know what your damage is with me but we need each other like it or not. We all need each other. I will fight for you all just as you fight for me. Whatever side you’re on, is the side I’m on.” You finished. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, occasionally glancing at Astarion and his busted face.

Karlach stood and marched herself over to you. If this was the end for you at least it was Karlach taking you out, it’ll be a quick death. She held out her hand and you apprehensively took it.

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a secret or two? I trust them and their intentions after seeing them outside the camp today. Y/N, you have my support and my trust.” Karlach said.

You couldn’t help but tear up and engulf her in a hug. Thank god she had already had her tune up or it would have been a very short, scorching hug. She only faltered for a moment before hugging you back.

“Enough with the doom and gloom Astarion. Please come eat, it smelled heavenly.” Karlach asked, walking back to her bowl and taking a bite. This seemingly put everyone at ease, everyone starting to eat and drink. Everyone sent you soft smiles or nods of approval as if to finally say “welcome, you’re here to stay.”

Astarion picked up his pride and went to hunt. He was so sure he could turn them against you enough to at least abandon you. Why did you have to be so damn sweet and honest with everyone? He knew he deserved that punch but it didn’t make him want you any less.

You grabbed a bottle of Ithbank before heading to your tent for the night.

————————

You awoke hours later. The camp was quiet except for a groan you heard. You sat up, it sounded like it was coming from the stream. Getting up you wore nothing but your large untied shirt and underwear. You crept over to the hillside. You saw Astarion with his shirt off splashing water onto his shoulder. The night was dark but you could see his hand was covered in blood. Punched or not, you wanted to help him. You slunk down the hill, thankful the riverbed rocks were smooth under your feet.

“May I?” You said.

“Gods! Don’t do that!” He winced. “I don’t want your help.”

“But you need it, you stubborn jackass.” You said, grabbing his hand and marching him back to your tent. You sat him on your bedroll before grabbing a cloth and pouring some water from your canteen on it. You gently pressed it to the slash on his shoulder.

“Care to tell me what happened?” You asked.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Looking to get punched again?” You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes as he tried to stifle the hiss he had to let out from the pain.

“We could be friends ya know. If you weren’t out to get me for some unknown reason.” You said with a tinge of sadness to your voice.

“And why would I want to be your friend?” He asked.

“I’m smart, funny, attractive….” You smiled as you listed.

He let out a chuckle, “Might want to add vain to the list.”

“Seriously though, why don’t you like me?” You asked, setting the cloth aside and going for some bandages you had in your camp pack.

“I don’t trust you there’s a difference.” He said, looking at the ground.

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person and I respect that, but everyone deserves a chance. Have I done anything to make you mistrust me?” You finally looked into his crimson eyes. They were beautiful. Shiny like rubies and a deep crimson like blood.

“You punched me in the face.” He said, meeting your gaze.

“You deserved to be punched in the face.” You said, starting to wrap the gauze around his torso and shoulder.

“Perhaps.” He conceded.

You noticed a small cut to his cheekbone. Raising your hand, you ran your thumb under it. You grabbed the cloth you used to clean his wound and brought it to his cheek, dabbing softly at the dried blood. He caught your wrist in a soft grasp. You looked at each other, neither moving. The air around you felt thick. Thankful for the dim light from the bonfire, you were sure you were blushing unintentionally. Astarion softly pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist.

“Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.” He sounded so sincere. You smiled and thumbed over his cheek one last time before pulling your hand back to yourself.

The more you looked at him the more you noticed his sunken eyes, his slim cheeks, the aches that plagued him.

Hungry

You jumped back a little not expecting to hear voices and feel a wriggle in your head. Astarion’s eyes flitted to yours, “You’re hungry aren’t you?” You asked in a whisper.

“I didn’t drink as much as I would have hoped to… the bear apparently didn’t like fangs in it.” He said, gesturing to the bandaged gash.

You pondered it for a moment. On one hand, he had been a massive cunt to you since you arrived and had punched him a few hours ago. On the other hand, he just let you patch him up and even thanked you for it.

“If you want… you could feed off me? If it would help?” You asked, looking between his eyes and the ground, fingers picking at each other nervously.

“You would do that for me?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“See? I’m not so bad after all.” You smiled as you pulled your laces at the top of your shirt loose revealing your neck, shoulder, and the top of your chest.

He gulped and looked at your beautiful skin. He was hungry but he knew he’d have to repay you. He pulled you to him by your waist, planting you in his lap, straddling his hips. You knew what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me… I’m doing this because I want to help you.” You said, shifting yourself to sit next to him instead of on him.

He gave you a soft smile, “Apologies. I’m used to giving myself as payment. Old habits die hard I suppose.”

You nodded, knowing his history and not wanting to trudge up bad memories. You leaned against the tree trunk next to your bed roll, exposing your neck to him.

Astarion licked his lips subconsciously. His breath against your neck made you shiver. He kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It felt like getting an IV needle shoved into your throat. The pain was quick, the feeling of blood being sucked out of you was what felt odd. Warm fluid being sucked out rapidly. He must have been hungry.

After a minute you gently pushed against his chest. He snapped back to reality, pulling back and resting his head against your shoulder while licking up the little blood that spilled from the punctures. His breath was heavy and so were his eyes.

“That was amazing…” he whispered.

You sat up a bit, pushing Astarion back. “Glad my blood is acceptable.” You joked, pulling your shirt back on properly and tightening the laces.

It was beyond acceptable. It was… heavenly. It was beyond anything he had tasted or smelled before. It tasted sweet. Like the richest chocolate. It coated his tongue and he already wished for more. His gaze was glazed over, perfectly happy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

You watched him. He was beautiful, truly. The feeling of arousal that shot through you while he drank made you feel awful. You knew his backstory and you knew he was in no position to do anything sexual. You focused on slowing your heartbeat down in hopes he wouldn’t hear it.

He gently took your hand before kissing your wrist again, “Thank you. This was a gift, I won’t forget it.” He nodded before getting up and heading back to his tent. “Goodnight.” You heard him say faintly.

You smiled as you laid down, happy that you two reached a truce. Maybe he needed a bit more care than the others, and you were happy to provide it. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a certain pale elf.

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I hope to hear from you all in the comments or in my DM's. I really wanna try and write a few drabbles for y'all. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

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afranticsonicperson · 1 year ago

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alright this has been on my mind for hours so I’m just gonna say it

GUYS, I THINK TAILS AND SHADOW ARE FINALLY WARMING UP TO ONE ANOTHER IN CANON!

(!DISCLAIMER! I am talking about the MAIN timeline with the MAINLINE games and NOT the Sonic Boom timeline, and in sonic boom yeah shadow and tails fight like cats and dogs there and there’s no denying that, BUT THIS IS NOT ABOUT SONIC BOOM. THIS IS ABOUT HERE)

now, why do I think shadow and tails are starting to form a bond? A couple of new things actually:

First, Twitter Takeovers:

hold on, stAY WITH ME HERE OKAY??

in that one part where shadow kinda sings antihero with amy in one of the questions and yes that actually happened holy shit-

literally everyone, EVERYONE, didn’t know that shadow listened to taylor swift, not even SONIC knew that shadow listened to taylor swift EXCEPT TAILS

im serious, tails, in response to everyone’s confusion and surprise, says “shadow loves tay-tay!”

the little fox couldn’t have heard it from someone in the group because literally NOBODY knew about it? not even amy??

shadow and tails had to have had atleast a one-on-one casual convo about it! SHADOW WAS COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO SHARE HIS INTERESTS WITH HIM!

ok ok, don’t consider the twitter takeovers as canon? that’s fine! there’s other stuff!

Next, Murder Of Sonic The Hedgehog:

now, most of this is near the end of the game, but hear me out here!

first, shadow and tails talk very casually with eachother!

shadow and tails address and talk to eachother not very enemy or unfriendly-like, and tails isn’t afraid to chime in with shadow from time to time!

that’s also the thing, shadow and tails aren’t afraid of sharing their interests with each other, I don’t think that’s very “arch-enemy” of some people to do, y’know?

and one of my final points:

shadow praises tails in this game!

no, seriously, he does.

“It’s true, you could drive this train flawlessly.” <— keyword!

and keep in mind, he genuinely didn’t have to say that, amy before that only said “I’d trust you drive this train!” to tails, shadow could’ve just said something like “yeah, you could.” or maybe just not have said anything, but no, shadow decided to praise him in that sentence, and he doesn’t compliment people a lot, so honestly it’s kinda sweet to me!

(also, tails being very flustered at the compliment is super duper cute.)

And yes, the murder of sonic the hedgehog is canon. It may be an april fools game, but it is not something like the twitter takeovers where the VA’s may just be messing around, tmosth is a game made by sega. it is quite gladly canon.

Overall? Shadow and Tails aren’t exactly friends yet, but they are reaching the stepping tone of it! Their friendship seems to be building off respect and trust, and honestly, I love that a lot with them trusting eachother to be a hand to lean on, especially in the shadow games..

I look forward to them being friendly allies or even mutual friends if that ever happens.

I love these two. <3

#sorry I just felt the need to info dump today #agahhaag brainrot #anyway #THESE TWO!!!#sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #tails #sth #sonic #miles tails prower #shadow the hedgehog #shadow

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superstar-nan · 11 months ago

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Fight Tooth and Nail

Night 1 Part 1

Summary: You wait until after hours to investigate your best friend's disappearance. It's kinda spooky at night, but good thing that old rotten Bonnie animatronic is there to keep you company.

Words: 3,425

Fun stuff: Moderate swearing, Michael makes his first appearance that goon, Springtrap's bad bad monster man but also doesn't talk, and as always gender neutral reader.

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You really underestimated how much it would suck to stay hidden in a vent for hours.

First, you were freezing ; the vent kept blowing cold air on you every fifteen minutes. You ended up tucking your arms and legs under your chest when the air was turned on. If you were going to come back a second night, next time you’d bring a jacket. Second, it was extremely uncomfortable and your legs, no matter which way you tried to relax, were growing achy against the hard metal. Third, the boredom was numbing.

Nobody wanted to go anywhere near the rotted Bonnie animatronic, so your peace of mind led you to scrolling on your phone to pass the time, but even that grew tiresome after a while. If you weren’t so uncomfortable, you might’ve been able to fall asleep. But you were uncomfortable, and that led you to listening to music in one ear with your head down against the vent’s metallic floor.

Hour by hour passed and the commotion of people working started to die down. Talking diminished, busy rushing turned into casual walking, and groups of five or six were reduced to one or two. You turned off your music as the time approached eleven, trying to listen closely for people leaving.

Closer to 11:45 (much later than what you hoped), the busy attraction had diminished to dead-silence. At the sound and shake of a pair of footsteps, you peaked through the slim openings of the vent grate, light painting your face in thin lines.

A voice gradually became comprehensible, “...na be here in about ten to fifteen... Yeah-yeah, I know...” For a brief moment, you saw someone in a security uniform pass the area you were in. “I’ll just lock the front and be headed towar...” The voice began to fade out of understanding. He must’ve been talking on the phone.

The attraction was still. The silence was overwhelming.

Unable to take the vent any longer, you pushed the vent’s cover open and stumbled out. If there was another security guard, they definitely would have heard it, but you were too sick of the vent to care at that moment.

Your legs felt both great and awful stretching them. You groaned as you stretched your arms, popping your back and neck in a few places. You put the vent grate back.

The building’s lighting was dimmed now that it was night, and if you didn’t crack some great conspiracy before the place opened, you think it would’ve been smart to keep the lighting at that dim setting when the place opened. It was much more terrifying when the fake grunge and artificial grime was obscured in shadow. Much more haunting.

Much much more haunting...

You suppressed a shiver. The rotted Bonnie hadn’t moved, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what the man who showed you around said—that nobody had seen the thing move, but it would appear in different places at times. What did he say those suits were attracted to? Children's sounds? You held onto that thought with an iron grip.

Nothing moved to arrest or murder you, so you pulled a flashlight out of your bag and turned it on. “Looks like it’s just me and you tonight, Bonnie.” You said absently, and the conversation with the admittedly terrifying animatronic did seem to ease your anxiety. “At least until the guard shows up.”

You only had about five to ten minutes to search the office or anything else you might need before the night guard showed up. Maybe you could make something up about being a dayshift worker and talk to the guard about the night shift, but you would have to cross that bridge when you get there.

Your quickly paced steps pitter-pattered in an echo throughout the empty halls. The retro arcade games flickered with an unnatural light, too blue for the sickly green luminosity of the rest of the building. The tiled floor and walls gave you the impression of being trapped, and the loose wires and lighting structures hanging down from above you on the ceiling put a stone in your throat. Your flashlight illuminated a disassembled Bonnie torso, one that was corny with company but now held a lifeless eeriness to it.

You shook away your apprehension, tempering your fear with determination. You were here with a purpose, and the crafted horror of the place wouldn’t stall you.

When you slipped into the office, passing the flickering red light of the large EXIT sign, you started looking for the overhead light only to realize it was already on, just dulled like the rest of the building.

You began shuffling through the trash and papers scattered in the desk, knocking over a tiny toy Chica. You opened the big drawers of the desk, revealing unorganized files and toy-animatronic shells. Skimming the files showed them to be useless and even unnecessary for the company. You slammed the desk door shut before turning to the camera. You stared at it intently, your eyes scanning for any signs of abnormality, but everything just looked like it did when you explored it that day.

You let out a frustrated huff. You don’t know what you expected to find. A clue maybe. Proof of foul play. Evidence of your best friend not clocking out, but the attractions records were so disorganized you were surprised they knew enough to pay their employees. Anything.

You kicked the desk in your frustration.

THUNK.

You peered over the desk. Something just fell from behind the furniture. You circled around it, before placing your hands on the desk and pushing it with more than a little effort.

KA THUNK.

A phone, completely shattered and dead—but also completely familiar, clacked onto the floor. You picked it up. It was your best friend's phone.

Your mind reeled with possibilities. Was this where they disappeared? Was this where they called you? Were you the last person they ever called? You couldn’t fathom them just leaving their phone behind the desk, even if it was shattered. They would have grabbed it. Unless something happened to make them leave it behind.

White noise brought your attention to the security monitor. You pocketed the phone and leaned close to the screen. It was on CAM 10, the camera on the exit farthest from you, you were sure. Did something flash across it? You couldn’t tell, it could’ve been more static... Or it could’ve been something shiny reflecting light.

You flicked through the cameras one at a time. Everything seemed normal, nothing new to the place and nothing out of place. You flicked through them again once more, just to be sure, until you came to a realization. A horrible horrible realization.

Where was the rotted Bonnie animatronic?

Your throat went dry. You quickly swapped through the cameras, looking for it. Was it ever on the footage in the first place? The animatronic was off your mind, but if you had seen it on camera you were sure you would’ve noticed it. Did it move, or was it out of sight of the cameras before? You didn’t think so, but you couldn’t be sure.

You tried to reassure yourself by looking at the situation logically. Even if it did move, it probably just marched to its coding to where a birthday party might be or to one of the other animatronic shells. If it was near you, you’d be able to hear it by its heavy footsteps or at least be able to recognize its smell. Its smell you were somewhat used to.

You grabbed your flashlight. You didn’t have much time left anyway before the night shift guard showed up, maybe now was the time to leave. You would have to consider talking to the guard another night, a night after you charge your best friend's phone to see if there were any calls or clues that could tell you about the night they disappeared.

You pushed against the door with the big red EXIT sign. It didn’t budge.

You hammered your shoulder against it just in case. It still didn’t budge.

Did the day shift guard say they locked the front entrance or the back? You didn’t know, you couldn’t remember right.

You slowed your breathing. It wasn’t a big deal. You had already done it by daylight, there was nothing different about walking through the attraction at night. The place was made to scare people, what you were feeling was reasonable and sound, but there was nothing to be afraid of.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, you repeated to yourself in your mind as you marched forward through the building’s halls. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

There’s nothing to be afraid of . You passed the hall where stars dangled from the ceiling.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. You ignored the flickering buzz of the arcade games.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. You willed yourself not to look where the rotted Bonnie should’ve been.

There’s nothing to be —

Just as you extended a hand toward the door to the entrance—the red light a beacon from heaven and twice as relieving—you stopped. You hadn’t looked at the entrance too closely when you were investigating. You knelt down and picked up a torn wristband. Even in the ambient red lighting, you recognized this design.

It was your best friend’s wristwatch.

A putrid smell, invasive and wrong, awoke you from your stupor. You knew that smell.

Your head shot up. You went rigid as stone.

The rotted Bonnie animatronic stood at the end of the hall.

Your core went cold. Your breath grew erratic. You willed yourself not to make a sound. You’d been told it reacted to noises, but something was terribly wrong. More wrong than an animatronic’s faulty code. You knew it deep in your core. You knew it in those robotic eyes trained on you. You knew it in your racing heart, its pumping louder than the fluorescent lights.

It tilted its head. Your breath hitched. Nobody had seen it move before. Nobody who wasn’t missing.

It took a step forward. You took a step back. It took another step. So did you.

Your hand grazed the exit’s handle. The animatronic’s eyes looked at your hand and then back to you. It, in a motion that was too sentient, nodded to the door. Daring you to try it. In a lapse of judgment, you did.

You slammed your full weight on the door, ramming against the metal bar, and you swore when it didn’t budge. In a flash, you dove to the floor just as the monster lunged for you. You scrambled to your feet and into a sprint. You wouldn’t dare look behind you.

Your shoes pounded against the tiled floor, decorations and boxes passing you in a blur. You stumbled over a pile of gifts, but you forced yourself forward in your fall. You braced yourself with your forearms, before throwing a glance behind you. It hadn’t reached you yet. You quickly scanned the room, looking for any place you could hide. There were more boxes, the arcade games, and another hallway. You wedged yourself behind one of the arcade games and placed your hand over your mouth.

You tried to quiet your breathing. Adrenaline raced through your veins.

KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK.

Its footsteps were slow. Loud. Deliberate.

Your brow furrowed as you came to a realization. It wanted you to hear it coming. It wanted you scared. How could that be possible? How was any of this nightmare possible?

You winced as a shrill screech, the sound of metal scratching metal, struck your ears and made them ring. It was getting closer to you.

KA-CHNKK. KA-CHNKK... KA-...CHNKK...

You held your breath now. You ignored your burning lungs. Sweat dropped down your cheek. Or were those tears?

You flinched when a loud SLAM! came from the arcade game furthest from you.

Your heart rate was frenzied in a racing badumpbadumpbadumpbadump . Maybe it already knew where you were. Maybe it was drawing your fear out on purpose.

SLAM! went the next arcade box.

Your eyes scanned around you frantically. There was only one more arcade game before you. You wouldn’t go without a fight. You couldn’t ! You never got to find out what happened to your best friend! You never got to see if they—!

SLAM!

This was it. Your last chance. You wrapped your hands around a pipe in the wall and braced yourself to rip it off. You didn’t know if you had the strength to do it or if hitting the animatronic would even do anything, but you had to do something. You had to do something.

There was a long pause. One you felt was purposeful. One that did exactly what it intended. You were hyperventilating. Every second that crawled by was hell. You heard the monster’s claw scratch along the arcade’s screen.

And then, a miracle happened.

“ Hi.” A child’s voice. No, that wasn’t a real child, but an audio of some sort. “ Hello?”

There was silence. Stillness. And then, it was quiet but you knew the animatronic was gone. You breathed again, gulping up air that you so desperately needed. You swallowed a quiet sob. You had to get out of there before the monster returned.

You peeked past the arcade games. The room was empty. You quickly swabbed your tears away with your palm and pushed up to your feet, your legs trembling beneath you. You took a few tentative steps at first, unable to tear your eyes from where the animatronic left. Then a few tentative steps turned into a quiet jog, then a quiet jog to a reckless sprint. You dashed without caution past the disassembled Bonnie torso and down the hall, the horror of the attraction blurring with your tears and rush. When you reached the window to the office, you stopped in both relief and surprise. You were so relieved you let out a breathless laugh.

The security guard was here.

You collapsed into the doorframe, your breath in heavy pants. You didn’t realize how much your throat and heart burned from exhaustion. You swallowed dry. “Oh, thank god! ” You said in between weighted breaths. “I thought I was—”

You retched . It was a good thing you hadn’t eaten anything, because you would’ve puked. A thick, putrid scent hit you like a wall. A wall made of mold and bile and rot and everything you would not want to find dumpster diving. And if the layers of curdle and decay weren’t foul enough, there was something sweet under it all. Something like spoiled ice cream or cake that’s been left out a few decades too long.

You held your wrist to your nose, your other arm supporting you against the doorframe. “What is that—?!”

“ Sssh!” The security guard shushed you abruptly, putting a gloved finger to their lips, and you were stunned into silence. You didn’t see his face, only his unkempt brown hair under a security hat, because his attention was fully on the cameras, swapping through them carefully.

You swallowed again as your breath was catching up to you. You took a big gulp of air and then walked into the office. Whatever died in there was worth tolerating if it meant safety from the rotted animatronic (who somehow smelled better than the room).

The security guard seemed to relax, as he said in a whisper, “There. We should be safe for now...” He turned to the control panel and your breath, despite the smell, hitched.

Eyes so sallowed, they were pitch black . Flesh deeply gaunt in places you could see bone . Hands not gloved, but purple in their rot and spoil. The guard was no guard; he was a walking corpse .

You stumbled back. His eyes, if you could call them that, widened. He held up his hands, “Don’t freak out!” He whispered, harshly.

You grabbed a crowbar next to you, your knuckles paling in your tight grip. You swung with all of your strength down at him, but the corpse bolted out of the chair, slamming loudly against the desk.

“Stop! Stop! He’s gonna-!”

All that fire you built up from hiding behind the arcade box fueled your hands and you only saw red. The corpse cursed under his breath before he ducked to the floor right as you whipped at the air above him.

“ Shit! Just listen to me-!”

You stopped with your crowbar midair. But it wasn’t because of the corpse whisper-yelling at you to.

It was because of the animatronic standing right outside the office window.

Your fire was extinguished and you felt cold again. It wasn’t moving. It was just standing there . Staring at you with half-lidded eyes that were too human and too hungry. As if it was waiting for you to make a move. You swallowed and it felt like sandpaper down your throat. You very gradually lowered your crowbar. You couldn’t look away from it.

The corpse, even being unable to see the thing, must’ve read your expression, “Listen to me very carefully .” He whispered to you.

In that moment, you didn’t care if he was a zombie, you’d do exactly as he said.

“Pull up Cam 2,” He said, and his whispers were salt on your tongue. “ Slowly. Keep your eyes on him.”

You did as the corpse directed. The animatronic’s eyes were locked onto yours, and you wouldn’t look away if the apocalypse happened behind you. Moving your hand blindly to click on the control panel, you watched the animatronic’s eyes slowly glide down your arm and to the panel, before clicking back up to your eyes. Why did it feel like a predator? It was too unnatural, too manufactured in its movement to give you the impression of an animal stalking its prey. And yet, you knew you were being hunted, methodically. You tasted iron in your mouth, and you realized you bit your lip too hard.

“ Good, ” The corpse whispered, who—despite directing you—you almost forgot was there. “Now click the audio file.”

You fumbled blindly for the audio file.

The animatronic slowly raised its hand. For a confusing moment, you thought it was waving at you. Then, you noticed what was in its hand.

Your best friend’s phone.

The fire returned to your stomach. “That’s mine.” You said, and it was barely above a whisper at first.

The corpse swallowed, audibly, “ Click the audio file. ”

You could’ve sworn the thing’s grin widened.

“That’s mine! ” Your hands slammed so hard on the desk, your palms went numb. You and the animatronic didn’t flinch, but the corpse below you did. “Did you take them?!” The words hissed through your teeth.

The animatronic slowly put its hand holding your best friend's phone behind its back, and you felt your blood boil.

“ Click the-!”

“Did you kill them?!”

Suddenly, everyone moved at once. You broke eye contact first, your hand grasping for the crowbar. The animatronic lunged for the window, its palm slamming a spider web’s crack into the glass. The corpse shot up to his knees and swiped at the control panel.

A child’s laughter, one all too familiar and artificial, stilled the three of you. The same laughter from your voicemail.

Suddenly, the animatronic’s eyes weren’t human. You watched with heavy breath as the animatronic turned—all robotic and all coding—and stalked away from you. Taking your one clue with it.

You dropped the crowbar. It clanged against the floor.

The corpse seemed completely focused on the cameras, clicking and swiping and selecting, as he sat back into his swivel seat. You slid to the floor against the desk.

Suddenly, a second control panel was shoved into your hands, “Reboot the audio.” The corpse still spoke in a whisper.

You looked at it, shaken.

“ Now! ”

Startled, you did as you were told, taping on the device. It slowly started to blink, and when it finished, the corpse next to you relaxed his shoulders, continually clicking and swiping and selecting and swiping again, undead eyes flitting from camera to camera. The corpse didn’t need to order you into action when you saw the ventilation needed rebooting; you began the upkeep all on your own. With heavy questions weighing on your heart, the embers of your adrenaline and rage waned in your blood until it was nothing but ash and exhaustion.

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taffywabbit · 7 months ago

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Favorite blorbo?

hmmmm... I haven't had a LOT of blorbos I've been particularly fixated on recently but I am always and forever at least mildly fixated on the narrative themes that surround BotW Link (and by extension Zelda, who kinda helps put his whole deal in perspective through her own struggles with her dad and her role as the princess).

I've realized in the past year that I have kind of an obsession with impostors and doppelgangers and the struggle of a character trying to pretend to be someone else who they don't fully understand or identify with, and the way BotW plays with that through the whole amnesia angle is always really interesting to me. like here's a guy who was supposed to be an unstoppable badass 100 years ago, was basically killed, and then suddenly revived with no firsthand memories of his past heroics or relationships. nearly everything he learns about himself is through the external lens of other people's stories, so he can't really tell how his past self felt about the pressure he was under. and yet, because he is essentially a fresh new person in the same body, people who recognize Link still expect him to live up to that standard and pick up his heroic quest where he left off a century ago. he finds himself in the unique position of living in his OWN shadow, and it makes him a really interesting stand-in for the player (who ALSO only learns about Link's pre-amnesia life via scattered short flashbacks and the words of strangers, and is left to decide how much of that reputation they actually care about).

there's a scene in one of the memory cutscenes where Zelda asks Link (heavily paraphrased probably, it's been a while) if he would've chosen a different path for himself, had he not been expected since childhood to become a famous knight like his dad. and I like to think about how badly that memory would mess with post-Calamity Link's head if he was stressed, or tired, or scared, or depressed when it resurfaced. it's been 100 years, nearly everyone he knew before is dead, and as far as most people are concerned he's dead too. if he wants - if the PLAYER wants - Link could just fuck off to some remote corner of Hyrule and build himself a house and live a quiet life, leaving the heroics to someone else. the world seems pretty fuckin doomed regardless and he already failed once, so it wouldn't be that hard to choose a different path this time and try to enjoy the second chance he's been given. and in a sense, if you don't finish the game, or if you spend a hundred hours piddling around cooking fish and chasing dragons and practicing rock-climbing, that IS kinda just what happens. the player is just as free to refuse the call as Link is. the point where YOU decide that the role of the pre-Calamity hero is a role worth stepping into, is the same moment he puts aside any personal fears and misgivings he has, and decides that he has to try, even if these memories and stories feel like they belong to someone far more capable and courageous and difficult to kill. even if he doesn't fully remember Zelda or any of his other old friends, he decides at some point that he would LIKE to remember and claim those bonds for himself, and that this land full of strangers whose faces he doesn't recognize are worth sticking his neck out for. BotW, in spite of its shortcomings, is a game where you get to grow and learn and choose to be The Hero You Keep Hearing About right alongside Link himself, in a way that pretty much no other Zelda game allows for, and I think that's really cool! and sad! but mostly cool!

(I also think Link and Zelda both need therapy really really badly but OOPS sequel there's no time for that when we have gimmicks to introduce and storytelling mechanisms to clumsily reuse and character development to casually reset/ignore hahahaha..... 😭)

#ask #sleepycap #zelda #honorable mention goes to Ravio who is ALSO a great example of the underqualified impostor trope i love so much #but i don't think about him nearly as much or have that much to say about him unfortunately

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f0point5 · 1 year ago

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This chapter felt kinda iluminating in many ways...

I have to admit that I had to go back to Max his last text to understand why she wrote her answer the way she did. When I first read his words I didn't even think too much about it. Like I didn't feel it was sulky or anything at first. But her reaction made me realize he probably was. And tbh, after not showing any kind of reaction to her dating someone, his response did stick out and ofc she picks up on it. So he's letting his idgaf attitude slip a little. And it absolutely fits the weekend he's had.

On the other hand I feel like her reacting the way she did was pretty telling too. She knows about the shit weekend he's had. She knows he wants her there. She could have let it slip. But she didn't! She immediately blew it up and made it bigger than she needed to make it. She writes Daniel, tells him about it and says she trusts in them and wants Max to do the same. But does she? To me it all feels like she's just as afraid of any possible change to their relationship as Max is. Maybe that's why she didn't want to tell him at first. It's so freaking good how you change this dynamic between them with tiny baby steps and make it work out so incredibly well. I'm really curious who crumbles first. 😅

It was also rather interesting to have her text Daniel. Lando's been the one she'd confided in with the Thing��️ and now she's casually texting Daniel and talking about a date. Like did she know he knows? Did she tell him? Did she assume he knows because of the gossip? Or was she sure Max said sth?

One thing became perfectly clear to me after that chapter. And maybe I was stupid to not get the notion earlier but... I'd always thought it's Max who's kinda obsessed with her, kinda dependent on her in a way. But really this goes both ways. To me she appeared to be more flippant of things, not less caring, don't get me wrong, but more chill, more layed back, joking with things. I've always understood that she'd do anything for him. But I didn't get the notion that she's just as dependent on him as it's the other way around. Now I do!!!

I think Max was doing a pretty good job playing it cool, until all his fears were realised, after a shitty weekend to boot. He wants her there, he knows she wants to be there, but she (in his mind) is putting the date ahead of that. He’s like, is this the new normal? You can’t come early because of this guy now but next time you can’t come to race weekends because of him, next you’re moving out, where does it end. I think all that went through his head and he just had to detach before he said something he’d regret.

I feel like she isn’t let it slip because in a way, she’s been waiting for this. She’s been waiting for him to have the issue everyone said he would and it’s finally happened. She’s like, ah it’s out in the open now at least.

I think she does have more trust in them, or at least, in their commitment to each other. I don’t think there’s any part of her that doesn’t believe she will always come first to Max. That’s why she brings up the instances where he’s been with other people, not because she’s jealous that those things happen, but because she’s saying “he does all this and I KNOW without a shadow of a doubt he will come back to me and put me first, he needs to trust that I can date/have a boyfriend and he will still come first”. Because yes he was with his gf on her birthday, but he threw her a birthday party, yes he sleeps with girls but he comes home to her, yes he’s messaging people on Raya but she’s the one he calls when he wants to talk. She’s very confident and secure in that bond, and she feels like he should be to that same extent. That said, there’s reasons they have different insecurities (idk if I’ll have time to explore that or even be able to in a realistic way), and she’s not really being as sensitive to that as she could be.

My headcanon is that she mentioned it to Daniel but she never knew that Max had told him first. I think she went to Daniel bc as much as Max and Lando are close, Daniel has been more of a guidance to her and to Max in their younger years. I think she was looking for more of a big brother figure in that moment, and someone who is decidedly more mature than Max to admit that he was acting immature. Maybe even someone to tell her that she was being immature.

I think Max has always come off as more dependent because he is more…maybe anxious in his attachment. But as I said earlier, I don’t think she’s any less attached to him, she’s just more confident. It’s debatable which one of them is more naive. The one who is terrified of change or the one who is adamant nothing will ever change…

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teecupangel · 2 years ago

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Adding fuel to the fire of COD and AC crossover. Although you don't have modern warfare 1 and 2 reboot (that's okay) I hope you'll get the game soon but I guess stick to cut scenes in YouTube up to you. (I'm the OG anon who requested the Cod x AC, hi, how you been?)

https://youtu.be/g3GPMpevdRQ

That's the link of Phillip graves's betrayal. The detail that his name changes color of his status and same with General Shepherd in an another cut scene and it made me think of Desmond using eagle vision saw him changed color especially this is the moment Philip graves mentioned him as an assassin and the brotherhood in that and the 141 task force + Alejandro and Rudy learned about and you know spice up with angst. I believe Farah makes Desmond possibly go soft on her and treat her like a sister cause her strong personality reminds me of Claudia. I don't know what will be the first impression of Alex to Desmond (They might get along cos they are Americans lol). I want the task force be amazed (Desmond deserves all the positive attention at the dual his hidden blades, hidden gun, parkour and rope dart (Connor definitively knows how) and maybe sharing his wisdom *cough* bleeding effects *cough* of the views and tenants of the creed. Sorry for the long ask. Enjoy my heart emojis for you 💘💝💖💗💓💞💕💟❣️❤️‍🔥❤🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜🤎🖤🩶🤍

All current AC x COD short fics/drabbles: the OG question that started it all together with 2 small drabbles, Desmond and the 141 ‘bonding’

(I’ve been great, nonny, thanks for asking. I did find a cheap mw one but all mwii are still not that cheap. Hahaha. Although, full confession: I watched the scenes with Ghost and Soap in it because they’re my favorite in the og mw so I did see Graves’ betrayal scene XD)

He'll definitely be like "I like this one" with Farah and Alex would be a bit jealous because he is kinda like Farah's yes man. If Desmond is ever going to have a 'recruit' in MW, it'll either be Ramirez and/or Farah. Alex and Desmond would probably be sus over one another because Alex is CIA and Desmond is pretending to be CIA XD

If you're wondering why I answered that first before Graves... weeeelllll...

So I have another confession to make. I had a plan for Graves and Shadow Company (and Shepherd) being Assassins in this fic and now that you asked, I have an excuse to write this scene XD

This will also answer a question from @twitcherpated :

does the 141 ping as blue to Desmond? Gold? Something else?

Have a little fic where I give Graves and Shadow Company more... uuuhhh... I wanna say 'deeper connection'?

===============

Desmond knew something was up even before they reached the barricade that had suddenly popped up at the entrance of Los Vaqueros’ base.

Desmond had his Eagle Vision activated the entire ride, more as a precaution than anything else. Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost were as blue as always with Ghost’s blue the most vibrant of them all.

He missed the blues of the rest of 141 and Ramirez’ but they had their own mission to take care of.

And Desmond had been consoling himself with the blues of Graves and Shadow Company.

It was nice…

Being surrounded by blues for once.

Especially by fellow Assassins like Shadow Company.

Which was why the sudden white of their forms just before they reached the gates immediately made Desmond wary.

Something was happening…

And the blues of Shadow Company was now being slowly smothered by the white like some kind of fading gradient.

Desmond followed his team as they got out of the car at the same time Graves and his men came out of theirs but he kept his hands on his ACR, just in case.

Desmond took a step forward to follow Alejandro but stopped when Ghost placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. Desmond turned to look at Ghost who simply shook his head at him almost unnoticeably while Alejandro loudly asked, “What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future.” Graves answered calmly, his tone having lost all casualness he used to show to 141 and Alejandro, “Step away from the gate.”

“What?” Soap asked with furrowed brows.

“You’re crazy, this is my base.” Alejandro reminded them as he raised his arms briefly.

“It’s not a base. This is a sizeable facility and I admire it.” Graves glanced at Desmond as he announced, “So we’ll be using it as our bureau for this operation.”

Desmond froze at those words while Graves continued, turning his attention back to Alejandro and Soap, “You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service.”

“No, no, no.” Alejandro immediately spoke with growing fury in his voice, “I don’t tak-”

“Desmond.” Graves cut Alejandro off as he turned to face Desmond, “It’s time for us to do what we’re meant to do, brother.”

Desmond’s eyes widened just as both Soap and Alejandro turned to stare at him.

“What does he mean by that, Desmond?” Soap asked, “Did you know about this?”

“Know about it? He’s part of it.” Graves answered for Desmond and Desmond could only watch in silence as Graves and the Shadow Company around him took off a part of their patch, removing part of the shades and the rook and revealing a black Assassin insignia underneath.

Desmond barely heard Graves’ next words, “He’s been part of it longer than any of us.”

All he could focus on was the words written below the insignia.

Agiamo nell’ombra per service la luce.

‘We work in the dark to serve the light.’

“What does he mean by that, Desmond?” Soap’s voice shook Desmond out of his stupor and he turned to stare at Soap.

“You’re with them?!” Alejandro shouted as he took a step away from Graves and pointed an accusing finger at Desmond.

“Does Shepherd know?” Soap asked as he took a step towards the car.

“Commander Shepherd sends his regards.” Graves answered and they all turned to face him once more. Graves stared at Desmond as he added, “And he told me to remind you…”

“Remember that you are a part of our Brotherhood.” Graves glanced at Soap as he stated, “Not theirs.”

Desmond tightened his grip on his ACR as he finally spoke, “I’m loyal to the Creed…”

“But I am not loyal to any master.” Desmond let go of his ACR and quickly pulled out his USP.45, making everyone raise their main weapon.

“Hold your fire!” Both Graves and Soap ordered when they both realized that Desmond had aimed his sidearm…

At his own temple.

“Desmond…”

“You talk too much, Graves.” Desmond took a step back as he used his left hand to show everyone his hidden blade, “You all know what this does, right?”

Desmond placed his left hand on the side of his neck as he said, “Before anyone gets the idea of shooting my hand off so I can’t fire my gun, all I need to do is twitch and I’ll pierce my own neck.”

“Desmond…” Soap called out as he kept his own gun aimed at Graves’ men.

“Desperate times, Soap.” Desmond said with an obviously fake cheerful tone before glaring at Graves, “So, Graves. Don’t talk, just listen.”

“Shepherd needs me.” Desmond stated, “That’s the only reason why you would go to all this trouble to blow my cover right here and now. You’re trying to turn 141 against me.”

Soap and Alejandro glanced at Desmond but kept quiet.

“Which means you need me to come to you willingly.” Desmond stared at Graves’ impressive poker face.

Then he glanced at the body posture of the men behind Graves.

“It’s Soma.” Desmond realized, “You need me to find Soma…”

Desmond glanced beyond the gates before continuing, “You’ve got confirmation that Soma is in there but you don’t know where. That’s why you need me.”

Graves was quiet for a moment before he stated, “No.”

Desmond frowned at that.

“We’ve retrieved Soma and it’s now en route to General Shepherd’s location.” Graves informed him, lips curving into that cocky smile of his that Desmond had actually liked, “You’re not the only one with Eagle Vision, Desmond.”

“Then why do you need-” Desmond stopped, eyes widening as he realized, “You need me to activate it.”

“Only your genes can activate Soma.” Graves answered with a nod, “According to our research, the power Soma holds can be used as targeted strikes but it needs an Anima to control the strikes.”

“You want me to use Soma to take down the Templars.” Desmond realized, eyes widening even further as he added, “To attack Abstergo facilities!”

“There are innocent people there!” Desmond shouted, “Not everyone in Abstergo are Templars, Graves!”

“And they killed children during the Great Purge!” Graves shouted back, “Do you think they were Assassins too, Desmond?! Do you think everyone the Templars killed during the Great Purge were Assassins?! Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters…”

“The Templars did not give us mercy then, why should we show them mercy now?!” Graves asked as he kept his weapon lowered while taking a step toward Desmond. Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost pointed their guns at Graves but Graves kept his eyes on Desmond, “You weren’t there to see it! You were safe in William Miles’ little Farm!”

“But we…” Graves took a step back and raised his arms as he announced, “We are the shadows that were left behind by that genocide! We are the shadows that will avenge the dead!”

“And you’re the sun that will make us larger than we have ever been.” Graves announced as he offered his hand to Desmond, “This is it, Desmond. This is our time to turn the tide. No more staying in the shadows, no more hiding from Abstergo or the Templars.”

“With you as the Anima…” Graves’ eyes were clear but Desmond could hear the fanaticism in his voice, “We will burn the Templars to the ground once more.”

“Just like Ezio Auditore did in Cappadocia.”

Desmond took a step back as he said, “No.”

Desmond shook his head as he shouted, “No! Cappadocia was a mistake!”

“I won’t do it, Graves.” Desmond stated before staring at the men who all had different shades of blue and white right now behind Graves, “This isn’t our way. This isn’t how our Brotherhood should be.”

“The Brotherhood we have now, William Miles’ Brotherhood, is nothing more than a rat scurrying in the sewers on its own shit!” Graves argued before slowly taking out a white phone from his back pocket.

“What’s that, Graves?!” Soap shouted as he aimed at the phone.

“Relax. I’m making a call to someone Desmond would want to speak to.” Graves said calmly as he pressed the call button before showing the phone to all of them, “Shepherd told me you wouldn’t see reason. That you’re too soft.”

“I was stupid enough to think he’s wrong. That you would have Ezio Auditore’s courage instead.” Graves stated as he glared at Desmond.

“Don’t talk to me about Ezio. I know Ezio more than anyone in the world! He wouldn’t have approved of this!” Desmond shouted, trying to get the men behind Graves to see the truth.

“Ezio Auditore took Rome from Borgia rule by fire and blood.” Shepherd’s voice was heard from the phone and the phone’s screen changed to a video of Shepherd, “And we will take the world back from Abstergo’s control.”

“Shepherd.” Soap growled as he glared at the phone.

“Graves, take everyone in.” Shepherd ordered, “If our Anima does not wish to take his proper place for the sake of the Brotherhood then he will do it for the people he cares about.”

“If you think we’re just going to let you take us-”

“You will.” Shepherd cut Soap off as he said, “Desmond will make sure of it.”

“What?”

“Have you forgotten?” Shepherd asked calmly, “The two transfers in Shadow Company?”

Desmond froze as Shepherd stepped to the side, revealing…

“Shaun! Rebecca!” Desmond shouted as he saw the slumped figures of Shaun and Rebecca tied to the chairs.

“You saved the world once, Desmond.” Shepherd stated and stepped back to the frame of the video once more, “It’s time to save it once more, son.”

The video cut at that and Graves returned the phone to his back pocket. He aimed his gun at Alejandro calmly as he said, “You heard the commander, Desmond. It’s time to come home.”

A tense silence fell on all of them.

Until…

“Take cover!” Ghost ordered and they all reacted immediately, falling to their stomach just as one of the men behind Graves suddenly threw two smoke grenades.

“Left side, go!” Ghost ordered and all of them immediately rolled to the left just as they heard the sounds of gunshots erupting.

“Hold your fire! Find and secure Desmond!” Graves shouted from the smoke and everyone skidded downward. Ghost unpinned one of his grenades and threw it back to the road. One of Graves’ men grabbed it in midair and dropped it to the floor as they jumped off, skidding towards them.

“She’s with us!” Ghost shouted as Soap and Alejandro aimed their gun at the member of Shadow company, “Run! We’ll lose them in the buildings!”

Ghost took point as they all begin to run just as the grenade finally exploded, keeping Graves and his men preoccupied for a few precious seconds.

The Shadow company member with them threw their helmet off and took off their balaclava and Desmond blinked when he recognized the blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Galina!?” Desmond shouted.

“Hello, Desmond.” Galina nodded at him as they continued to run, using the same fake deep American accent he heard from Shadow 1-3. Her next words were spoken in her natural Russian accent, “William Miles told me to tell you if Graves and Shepherd did betray us...”

Galina smirked as she said, “You’re in command, Desmond.”

========================

I'm sorry, nonny. I know you wanted bamf! Desmond but this plot point has been on my mind ever since I thought of OG Shepherd knowing about POEs.

(The Italian translation of We work in the dark to serve the light is directly taken from the Italian subs of AC2. If I knew more Italian, I would have changed it to We work in the shadows to serve the light XD)

(At this point, I really should just make a full fic of this crossover XD)

53 notes · View notes

bratdesire · 4 years ago

Text

Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house.

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you.

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is.

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be.

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she?

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you.

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.”

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.”

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?”

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.”

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him.

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease.

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face.

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair.

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other.

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric.

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans.

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks.

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need.

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game.

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce.

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his.

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him.

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond.

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue.

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.”

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room.

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make.

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you.

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices.

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see.

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy.

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples.

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching.

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore.

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end?

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more.

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse.

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck.

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

#haikyuu smut #ukai x reader #ukai smut #haikyuu x reader #ukai keishin #server collab #bunny scribbles #hq smut #hq fanfic #hq reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

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Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do like a short story post or something I wonder how Our General Kirigan would react to a shy reader? Would he tease her? Be frustrated with her? And how would she react? Idk maybe just a thought 😅 I asked you because i really like your writing and I feel like you would really do a good job and I like the way you portray the General. 😊

a/n i have been crying/feeling shitty for the past two days for no reason!! so i thought it might make me feel better to try writing headcanons! i have SO MANY half done requests/fics but as of recently i hate everything that i write!! so i thought i'd work on this request that lends itself to headcanons

also im glad you like my writing :))

General Kirigan with a shy! reader headcanons:

- First things first, I think how he interacts with someone shy that he sees as a (potential) romantic interest varies per situation. Like generally, he finds the timidness kind of soft which is so different from what he's used to that he finds that aspect kind of endearing.

- He'd never admit that at the beginning, but the more time you spend with him the clearer it becomes to you because of how he acts when you're alone together

- At first, he'd hold onto his usual stoic disposition, but after realizing that at the end of the day your shyness is genuine and not an attempt to seem meek in order to trick people/him he'd begin to tease you about it when you two are alone.

- The first time he makes a comment that's just a little,, kinda-almost suggestive (a comment about how he wonders what it'd be like to be a Heartrender so that he could hear the change in your heartbeat every time you shied away from something) you're too confused to be embarrassed for like two seconds.

- You're basically that meme that's like did I hear that shit righttt??

- So you meet his gaze, and there's absolutely nothing but warm confidence there and you realize that he had in fact,,, said that.

- You hold his gaze for a moment out of protest (which is an incredible feat) and then you have to drop your eyes to the floor. You mumble some comment about how his ability to summon shadows isn't exactly a boring skill.

- Your reaction is so soft,, Kirigan can't help but be endeared even further. Something he wasn't exactly expecting and isn't too thrilled about. He doesn't think being shy makes you weak,, but he's extremely wary about how you're perceived and how people may treat you because of it.

- He doesn't doubt his ability to protect you, but he doesn't want to be distracted,, not with all he has to do.

- Still, he can't help mumble comments whenever there's a brief pause and you two are alone

- Meanwhile, you're starting to notice that now more situations keep coming up when you're left alone with Kirigan?? like he's always in the library when you are, he's always walking in to assess training when you're training and he just so happens to linger until you leave and then he just so happens needs to walk in the same hallway.

- It's a little strange at first,, but you're more horrified by the fact that you're not mad about it than the fact that it's happening. Especially since you know how much joy he gets from getting you flustered. You can see that in that slightly cocky uptilt to his lips whenever you're left gaping at him.

- Why doesn't it bother you?? You try to rationalize it and the only conclusion you can come to is the fact that he's attractive and powerful and even though your face gets hot whenever he talks to you,, there's appeal in those qualities. There's appeal in getting the infamous General to smile.

- Even if it costs you the bit of pride you have.

- You don't get why you're the one he seems to be going out of his way to speak to (maybe when your life is as stressful as his is,, at the end of the day you just want something easy and if he's in the mood to be flirty, you're easy) but you're not mad. You just have to constantly remind yourself to not be foolish enough to think you're the only one he goes out of his way to talk to.

- And as time progresses, you get a little more comfortable with his banter. You stop shying away completely,, which only encourages him to get bolder with his comments.

- Nothing insane,, not yet, just a little more direct.

- It kind of becomes a little game to him,, to see how flustered he can get you with the minimal amount of effort. Every once in awhile, you manage to act normally, but he's quick to shut that down by upping his game just slightly.

- After awhile, it starts to become a game for you too, to see how much of your instincts you can suppress just to take away some of his satisfaction. Only when he's getting a little too smug.

- But that's when y'all are alone...

- When you're surrounded by others, sometimes it feels like you don't even exist to each other. Sometimes that's a lonely feeling for both of you, but each of you is convinced that they're the only one that feels the absence.

- In your defense, you're much more entitled to those feelings because he can literally do whatever he wants. You can't just walk up to the General and do what?? ask him why he hasn't made any suggestive comment in the last couple of hours??

- please that embarrassing!! even if you weren't shy, that would be out of POCKET

- Meanwhile Kirigan is just like being angsty and debating the implications of seeking you out in an environment with so many important people. He could probably manage a minute or two by your side without making anyone suspicious, but the danger in that is that he won't be able to bring himself to leave after those minutes pass him.

- Worse,, he may even find an excuse for both of you to step out into the hall so that he can make his comments and take in your reactions in private.

- It's especially difficult when you have that one strand of hair just slightly out of place,, presenting the perfect excuse for him to just fix it and then drop his hand slowly so that his fingertips can brush the side of your cheek.

- And you're growing tired of the crowds of people you're not comfortable with and you're starting to feel more and more stupid for letting something that was so clearly just a playful distraction mean anything to you.

- But before either of you can succumb to your angsty pinning (cough, cough,, simps) his eyes will find yours from across the room and that's EVERYTHING

- At first, you want to be stiff and look away because it's probably not intentional, but then he gives you that little smirk. And then you feel stupid for ever doubting that you two at least have some kind of friendship. (maybe more,, but you're too scared to let yourself think that,, ;))

- And then you give him this shy smile,, and that's it. He's done--that one look undoes him entirely.

- So he starts shifting towards you as casually as possible, because if he can't be with you right now, surely being near you is good enough for now.

- You're unaware of this,, and when the moment ends you find yourself longing for more, but relatively satisfied. You don't expect anything from him, he's important and you're you.

- And being around people drains you because you genuinely want to stay out of any situation that would have too much attention on you at once. So once Kirigan moves and you can't find him in the crowd, you decide now is as good a time as any to step out and get some air, especially since no one currently needs you for anything.

- So you disappear into the corridor, planning to be gone only for a few minutes. But the second you're about two steps into the hallway, you hear another's footsteps.

- The hopeful part of you is like 'maybe it's him!!' but you don't really think that. There's something about the atmosphere that feels too tense,, too wrong for you to believe it's him.

- A moment later, your suspicions are confirmed. A grisha known for his impulsiveness is calling out to you, asking you where you're going.

- You explain that you just wanted to get some air and that you'd be returning in a minute. You try to sound dismissive, clearly establishing that you'd like your minute to yourself.

- It's clear that he understands the hint, but he doesn't move. He just keeps asking you questions.

- Your answers get shorter and shorter, the nerves your feeling tensing with each word as he begins to venture from falsely casual conversation to more flirtatious words. Being shy can leave you speaking too much, spluttering out words in hopes of saying the right thing to let you escape, but this is a different type of nervousness. Something feels wrong.

- And he just keeps saying things, things that even Kirigan wouldn't be able to get away with.

- All the while, you're desperate to escape, but they're persistent.

- And just when you're losing hope, and his advances get so bold he has you literally backed into a corner--a familiar voice comes to you like a lifeline.

- Kirigan, with all the authority of the general, questions what's going on. The guy that was so relentlessly hitting on you moves back like suddenly you're fire and begins to back away. He tries to explain himself but Kirigan is not having it.

- As soon as the stranger leaves, you feel like you can breathe again, but your nerves are still on edge. Kirigan's looking at you in a way you've never seen before. Sharp and almost--almost angry?

- You try to mumble a quick thanks, intending to disappear back to where you're supposed to be, but Kirigan's gaze keeps you planted against the wall.

- His gaze is so intense you ask him if he's alright.

- The question cracks something in him because of course you'd ask him if he's okay after something happened to you. His expression softens slightly, which you think is a good thing but then he speaks,, and his voice is not calm at all

- He's mad at the person that did that and the irrational part of him makes it seem like he's a little mad at you for letting that situation happen, but it's only because he's worried about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time.

- And you're kind of confused because like?? what does he want from you? you made it clear you were uncomfortable and you were trying to get away?

- But after a quick snap and the fact that you're okay settles in,, he does feel a little bad. So he comes close to apologizing,, but that's basically just him saying he's glad that you're okay.

- You don't really ease, so he decides to make a partial joke about how maybe he needs to be around you more,, just to be safe,, you know

- And you smile slightly, and you're like 'y'know i'm not completely helpless.'

- and he's like 'pity,, i would've liked the excuse'

- your face instantly feels extremely warm and you're not sure what you could even, plausibly say to that. But you can't let him have the last word,, not like that. So you're overcompensating, rambling, but then at the end...you say something about how he doesn't really need an excuse to stay near you.

- When you realize what you've said, fight or flight kicks in,, but you can't move. And there's no casual way to escape, so you decide that maybe you'll cut your losses for today because that might have been your most significant reply to him ever, and you feel like an idiot because he was probably joking. And you just had to say that and make it weird.

- So you allow exactly one second of unfortunate silence, your eyes glued to the ground. And then you make some excuse about needing to get back to where you were.

- But Kirigan stops you, and you think about how you can't avoid looking him in the eyes forever, so you just kind of barely dare to glance upwards.

- And he's smiling broader than usual, the look is so warm it melts away all the bad feelings from earlier. You have absolutely no idea what it means, but you know it's not...bad.

- And then he shifts slightly, and that's when you realize he's never been this close before.

- He then asks if you're sure, voice much lower than earlier.

- You can't speak,, too trapped on a line you don't understand.

- But as he leans forward, the only answer he needs is the instinctual part of your lips as his warm breath reaches your cheek.

- And with that he turns his head just a fraction of an inch,, and his lips meet yours.

- It's just a quick brush of lips,, a soft test. And when you don't protest, he moves to let the contact be a little more assured, yet still teasing.

- Something in you grows impatient, and you move a little in hopes that he'll take the hint.

- But that's all it takes for him to pull away, expression bright and teasing before playfully chiding you for being so eager.

- He then turns, leaving you more flustered than ever.

#request #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morovoza x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #netflix shadow and bone #sab #sab imagine

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ushittyoldman · 4 years ago

Text

sweetheart like you

request. hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song)

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?”

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably.

“Holy shit.”

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes.

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes.

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer.

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.”

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you.

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend.

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat.

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing.

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

#spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #this was so fun 2 write n i am sad its over #spike cowboy bebop

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themoonslore · 2 years ago

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Creature Stiles Teen Wolf Fic Rec Part 1

Stone so Breakable by GrimReaperlover11

Word count: 27122 Chapter 17/? Last updated 06/02/22 Sterek

Stiles has always known of the supernatural world that existed around him. what others may not have known is that he belongs in it as well...just not in the trend that is popular in Beacon Hills.

How will the pack handle finding out his secret?

Rending Shadows by FicBaal (illbeintheend)

word Count: 95159 Chapter 9/9 No pairing

( This is part 1 of 5 so far series called What Light Cannot Repair)

“It’s fortunate for us that those who came before me also had some measure of foresight.” An infuriating smile split Valack's face, “Do you know I nearly had a cell of my own not so long ago? Instead, events conspired in such a way that I was able to meet personally with the board of directors before any irreversible decisions could be made.” __ Instead of being locked away in the Supernatural Ward, Valack managed to maintain his position as Chief Medical Officer and continue his in-depth study into Beacon Hills' supernatural community.

After confronting Noshiko over Rhys' body, the nogitsune is caught at his weakest in the basement of Eichen House, putting both he and Stiles at Valack's mercy.

Featherless Wings Can Still Soar by emsmittens

Word Count: 11620 Chapter 6/6 Sterek

After years of being in the Hale Pack, Stiles accepted his fate as being one of the only humans. Honestly, Stiles was perfectly fine with being a normal human, thank you very much.

Everything changed on his eighteenth birthday. Suddenly, he was something called a veela and felt like a baby bird learning to how to soar.

Cursive by midmorning_bomb

word count: 3784 Chapter 9/9 Steter

“I’m dying.”

“I swear to god, Peter, you’re not dying. You’ve died before! You’ve known death! This isn’t it!”

Taming the Storm by GrimReaperlover11

Word Count: 27181 Chapter 17/17 Sterek

Derek takes the pack on a much needed vacation to Greece, however, while visiting some ruins weird things begin to happen.

Derek makes a new friend.

Stiles is interested in the alpha werewolf that comes to the ruins. Never has he met someone that attracts his attention like this man.

but who could possibly want to be friends with a storm spirit.

We’ll Be Able to Fly by Inell

word count: 1147 Chapter 1/1 kinda implied Steucalion

Deucalion never expected this to be his end.

Everything goes (wow) by midmorning_bomb

word count: 8215 Chapter 5/5 Steter

It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle. 2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract. 3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

Part 1.

#teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf fic rec #sterek #steter #supernatural stiles #creature stiles #other stiles

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that-guy-sleepy-miles · 3 years ago

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I’ve seen a lot of Wukong figuring out Macaque can sing but or everybody figuring out Mk can draw but my i prose to you that Monkey king can draw? The morial of the rest of the journey to the west crew is a drawing. Meaning Wukongs probably did it himself. So Macaque figuring out Wukong can draw For a request if it’s okay and your doing request tonight? Also sorry this was long you can ignore this if you want.

Words: 692

___

Macaque thought he knew everything there was to know about Sūn Wùkōng. He knew Wùkōng’s schedule, all his favorite foods (peaches, peaches, peach float, noodles), the way he went to bed each night, when he took a shower, what each of his different kinds of smiles meant, and was even able to read the monkey’s unreadable gaze. But recently, he’d learned that Wùkōng was even more than he thought he was before. He’d been welcomed onto their new journey by MK, the kid being scared but swallowing his fear and holding his hand out to the defeated Macaque anyway. He’d been dancing around the monkey for a while, but seemingly loosened up the moment Macaque had made Wùkōng chuckle with a joke. Now he sat next to Macaque and told him about the things going on around the ship, and had even drawn Macaque once or twice. The topic of drawing is what brought us to today. Macaque had been snooping around, as always, when he found himself in Wùkōng’s room.

And the monkey was drawing on his walls. Macaque stopped and sat down in the shadows of the room, watching Wùkōng draw on the wall with chalk. His strokes were confident and strong as he dragged the chalk across the metal wall. Macaque leaned forward to see what he was making. The Monkie Kid’s face came into shape and Mei’s next to him. They were running to the other side of the room, with Red Son, Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy behind them. Wùkōng moved over so that he could sketch himself out, leading the pack with his cane in hand. Macaque hummed lightly, looking over the wall. It was a really good drawing, honestly.

Wùkōng started on a figure next to himself, sketching out a cape and a smile, but stepping back before he could finish the character. He tapped his foot as if trying to figure out what to do next. He hummed and then nodded, going back up to the wall and sketching in the rest of the face. He put their hair in a short ponytail and one of their arms around his shoulder. When Wùkōng stepped back, Macaque gasped. It was him. He was the figure next to Wùkōng. “Oh-” Wùkōng jumped, turning around, “Hi, Mac. Whhhat are you doing in my room?” “Just watchin’.” Macaque pulled himself out of the shadow and plopped himself down on Wùkōng’s bed. “So, what’s with the drawing?” “Hm? Oh, this? Yeah, the wall looked bare. I was trying to figure out what to put up there, so I decided to see what I could throw up there.” Wùkōng’s soft casualness made Macaque feel warm. Was he seriously not made the Macaque was in his room? Macaque rolled over so that he could lay and hugged Wùkōng’s peach pillow, “Well, it looks good. You do this kinda thing often, or is it a special occasion?” “What’s it to you?” Wùkōng set his chalk in his mouth and crushed it. Macaque cringed as he swallowed it. “Ew! Don’t do that in front of people!” Macaque groaned as the moment was broken by Wùkōng’s inability to be normal. “I never should’ve come here if you were just going to be gross.” “It’s not gross! I learned during my heavenly punishment that anything can be food if you try hard enough!” Wùkōng countered. They fell into a usual banter, Wùkōng finishing the mural with a new stick of chalk as they went. Soon a comfortable silence settled over the room, Macaque watching Wùkōng as he stretched and went over to his bed, flopping down and putting his hands behind his head. They were just laying there for a while until MK kicked open the door. “Monkey King!” MK called. Wùkōng sat up and blinked. “We’re training today, remember?” “Didn’t we train yesterday?” Wùkōng groaned. “We’re training every day!” MK went over and grabbed Wùkōng by the arm, yanking him to his feet. “C’mon!” Wùkōng didn’t get a protest in before he was dragged out by the hyperactive kid. Macaque chuckled and looked back to the wall. He wanted to see Wùkōng draw some more.

#sav writes #sav request #shadowpeaches #shadowpeaches mention #lmk #monkie kid #lmk wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #monkie kid macaque #monkie kid monkey king #anon

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erensangel444 · 3 years ago

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hii idk if ur still taking requests but i was wondering if you could make a singer!reader x eren fic (it can be a drabble, blurb or even hc's! do whatever u want haha) and how eren would react to reader etc jdjxkejd

sorry i know this is a really random idea lmao but i've been thinking about it bc i sing and i just kinda want validation yk 🤌🏼 lmao jk but if you could write something based off of this idea i would really appreciate it !!!

btw i love your work and i still think about ur RA!eren drabble to this day like it's literally burned into my brain i love it sm u have no idea 😩

PLZ I LOVE THIS<3 i really enjoy singing so i know i'm going to have a fun time writing this. and you are so sweet i'm about to cry rn<333

more RA!eren to come in the future possibly;)

singer!reader x eren headcanons

-the first time eren had heard your voice, he could've sworn he had died and gone to heaven, and eren's not one for bullshit cliches.

-he hates himself for even thinking it, but he swears that you put him under a trance. and he couldn't even be mad about it

-he'll catch you humming a tune while doing mindless tasks, and he'll linger outside of your line of vision for a little longer just to hear the melodic vibrations coming from your vocal chords.

-a little bit after you both had shared your first 'i love you's, you and eren had really intimate sex. he was more of fast-paced guy, in both his everyday life and his sex life, so the way his hips slowly rolled into yours that night was something new.

-after you both reached your peak, eren had pulled you into his body, caging you in beside him.

-you were tracing your fingernails softly along eren's bicep, the both of you laying on the bed in the dark room, the moonlight breaking through the window, casting shadows across your faces.

-eren could feel his breath catch and his throat lock up before he spoke. "would you-" he chose to ignore the slight voice crack, "would you sing for me?" he asked softly, looking down at you, the moonlight cascading across your pretty face.

you just smiled a toothy grin before humming, the sight making eren smile. he felt vulnerable, which was scary, but he also felt safe. "i been thinkin bout you," eren grinned as he heard the lyrics fall from your lips, a memory coming to the forefront of his mind

-when it was apparent that the both of you had a mutual interest in one another, eren had taken you out on a date. upon getting into the car, you heard thinkin bout you by frank ocean playing on his stereo.

-eren still remembers the smile on your face as you looked at him with wide eyes(he swore there was even a little twinkle in them). "i love frank!" you basically cheered, putting your seatbelt on. \

-eren couldn't do anything but smile at you and attempt to contain the quickening of his heartbeat.

-hearing those lyrics fall from your lips now, long after the two of you had grown to love each and every version of one another, eren couldn't help but want to cry. he would never, though.

-eren hears you singing in the shower sometimes, and anytime he passes by the cracked bathroom door, he has a little pip in his step after, humming the tune to whatever you were singing.

-eren was with you when you booked your first venue, a small gig at a local cafe. you had told him while the two of you sat on the couch, cuddled up, a bottle of cheap champagne on the table.

-he turned to look at you after you had so-casually told him you had gotten the gig. he pulled away from you, his eyes blown out, a smile making his way onto his face.

-"you got the gig?" he asked, and his expression made you laugh softly. your bottom lip was tucked under your teeth as you hummed out an "mhm," smiling over at eren.

-"angel, angel angel," eren muttered, pulling you into him and littering kisses along your neck and all over your cheeks. you couldn't help but giggle, your hands pushing at eren's chest, "you're getting spit all over me!"

-he pulled you in for a deep kiss, and you could feel his smile on your lips. he pulled away, your lips still hovering over his. "m' so proud of you," you couldn't help the flush overtaking your being, a smile making its way onto your face.

-"thank you ren," you say sweetly. god he's so in love with you.

-eren thinks you and your voice are angelic. he truly wishes you could hear it the way he does.

fin

i thought of this as i was writing but i'd love to write rockstar!eren x rockstar!reader.....can you imagine??? oh my gawd

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vizowrites · 3 years ago

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That’s One Hell of a Resume

{Set during the Harvest Moon Festival competitions}

~*~

To Blitzø’s great surprise, the Harvest Moon Festival was actually turning out to not be a fuck fest invite after all.

He honestly hadn’t been sure when the games initially kicked off. The horde of imps that had come to compete for the title of “the roughest, toughest, bastard in Wrath” had a proclivity for violence that could easily--and not inaccurately--be described as a passion. Then of course there was Stolas, watching him thirstily from atop his fancy seat underneath his fancy tent, cooing and cheering out “Blitzyyyyy!!'' at every opportunity he got to speak. Yet the honored owl prince somehow still managed to keep his pants on throughout each and every event--and even more impressively managed to keep his degrading sweet talk void of any sexual obscenities. He hadn’t even been able to manage that much on a day trip to a theme park with his daughter. Yet somehow...this wasn’t even the best part of the festival to Blitzø. It was up there to be sure, but it wasn’t the toppiest top. The “dom of the disco”**, if you will.

No, the BEST part of the festival--and the thing that kept the imp grinning from ear to ear throughout the entire competition--was that this honkytonk battle royale was shaping up to be the perfect opportunity to show off and be recognized for just how much of a boss-ass bitch Blitz actually was: 2nd to absolutely fucking none.

Well...maybe with ONE slight exception.

“I gotta say, you just keep on impressin’ me every chance you get,” that one slight exception said with a smirk, the tip of his tail flicking forward into a small curl. “No wonder your killin’ biz is so successful. You do every kill single-handed there, Boss Man?” The two were standing off on the sidelines together during one of the many interims inbetween contests, where the first round winners had already secured their victories and now were stuck watching the remaining shitty losers battle it out to find out which of them would end up being the absolute shittiest loser. It was taking a stupidly long-ass time, a hell of a lot longer than Blitzø would’ve normally had the patience for, but with his present company leaning up against the bleacher stands like that.....there were definitely worse ways he could be spending his down time right now.

“Nah,” he answered with a small flick of his wrist, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of where he’d last seen Moxxie getting his ass kicked and Millie sitting in the stands watching it happen. “I know he’s not doing a great job of showing it right now--” he said just as Moxxie got elbow dropped by a shark “--but Moxxie’s not completely useless. He did get me shot on a job once while he was in the middle of being a little bitch, but as soon as he finally found his balls again, he got things back under control pretty fast. And Millie’s just a straight up badass. If her parents had allowed her to play in the games, you’d have gotten your ass handed to you three rounds ago.”

“That so?” Striker’s lips drew back into a slight smirk, just enough for the light to catch on the very tip of his fanged gold tooth. “Because I seem to remember a certain someone else bein’ the one to get themselves all roped up in a hogtie about three rounds ago.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but it sounds like complete bullshit.”

“That’s kinda what I was thinkin’ myself to be honest after that first relay run--” Those snake-like eyes raked in every inch of Blitz’s annoyed face, feeling the corners of his own pleasantly sting as his grin spread even wider. “Right up ‘til I saw some o’that nice red color risin’ up in their face--”

“IT’S HOT--THERE ARE FUCKING VOLCANOES NEARBY OKAY!!” Blitz realized, very quickly, just how loud and defensive those words sounded, but he also realized just as quickly that there wasn’t anything he could do to take them back now. Instead, he straightened himself up, cleared his throat, pretended that there wasn’t some of ‘that nice red color’ in his face now, and said in what he thought was a much more nonchalant voice, “Anyway, I’m starving, and since these last few dipshits are taking forever to get their asses kicked, I’m gonna go find something deep-fried to shove down my throat. Catch you at the awards ceremony or whatever the fuck they do around here to finish themselves off.”

The I.M.P. Head made it a grand total of two steps before the unmistakable crunch of boots sounded behind him, followed by a faint scoff of a laugh and the distinct rattling of a tail as Striker joined him at his side.

“There’s a whole row of food stands back there behind the stage,” he said with a nod, meeting Blitzø’s stride and starting to veer them off in that direction. “And now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind grabbin’ a bite. Besides--I feel like I might owe you one for bringin’ up such a tender subject.”

The unrepentant but non-malicious smirk he sent Blitz’s way wasn’t at all softened by the wink that accompanied it, but it somehow brought a slight smile to the smaller imp’s lips all the same.

“You got fucking lucky and that was it,” Blitz insisted with a sharp flick of his tail, not having the faintest fucking clue why he was smiling about this in the first place but subconscioiusly hoping that swatting at Striker would be distracting enough that the taller imp wouldn’t notice. “And besides, I could’ve gotten out of it if I had really wanted to.”

“Oh, so you wanted to be all tied up like that?” The grin that spread across Striker’s face was even wider than the first, his razor sharp teeth now on full display. “Well now, if that’s what you were wantin’ you could’ve just asked. I’d’ve been happy to oblige right from the start.”

“Ha! Like I’d ever make it that easy for you,” Blitzø retorted with a challenging grin, his eyes dancing with a truly impish gleam of delight as he and Striker rounded the stage together, his earlier thoughts of the food shacks that waited beyond almost entirely forgotten as they were overtaken by memories of their constant back-and-forth scuffle throughout the festival. “You beating me fair and square is one thing--even though you still totally just got really fucking lucky and also it definitely never even happened in the first place. But if you were actually going to beat me...you better believe it’s not gonna happen without a fight. I don’t just bow out like some sloppy bitch who can’t figure out where they put their car keys and has to take the walk of shame back to their shitty apartment at 4 in the morning. If you wanna come out on top over me, you better fucking work for it.”

The black tip of his pointed tail flicked up to poke Striker once in the center of his chest, punctuating the word ‘work’ perfectly.

Striker’s tail, on the other hand, began to rattle.

“Yeah?” he said, his earlier easy tone starting to become weighted with something softer, but deeper. Neither he nor Blitzø made any indication that they were aware that he was guiding them both right on past the front of the stand that they had originally been headed toward, and instead had them disappearing into the shadows behind it. “You’re okay with not coming out on top so long as whoever does earns their place there?”

“I mean...” Blitzø trailed off a bit as he casually leaned up against the back of the stand, folding his arms over his chest as he eyed Striker with that lingering gleam in his own gaze. “You have been able to keep up with me in all the other games...so I guess it might be possible for you to get the upper hand on me for at least one of them.”

“Just me?” The rattling sound intensified.

“Well there sure as fuck wasn’t anyone else who was able to keep up,” Blitzø rolled his eyes in annoyed exasperation at just how much everyone else truly sucked in comparison to the two of them, before he slowly looked back up at Striker--and realized that the snake-like imp was suddenly a lot closer than he’d been before. Much closer.

“...Striker?”

“Yeah, Blitz?”

“Please tell me we’re not actually talking about the fucking games anymore.”

A short, soft laugh was the initial answer, followed by that still rattling tail coiling around Blitz’s slender waist as Striker propped himself up on one arm against the structure behind them, his hand splayed just to the side of the crimson imp’s right cheek.

“I haven’t been talkin’ about the games since you got me with your tail, Darlin’,” he whispered, his hooded eyes narrowing to glowing slits of pale gold as he leaned in almost close enough to touch. “But I don’t know if there ain’t somethin’ to be said about that “fuckin’” part yet...”

Blitz’s words came back to him then, ringing in his head as clear as when he first said them:

“...Well if you promise this isn’t some fuck fest invite...”

“.....You gonna work for it, Cowboy?”

“Yessir, Boss Man.”

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

“So...lemme get this straight--” Blitzø finally shifted his weight, easing it off of Striker and rolling to rest his back on whatever podunk concession stand they’d spent the last ten minutes fucking up against. “--You tie me for first place in the games, you ride around on the most majestic fucking horse I’ve ever seen, you take down a hell hog with a single stab while completely and mercilessly humiliating one of my employees in front of his in-laws at the same fucking time, and you called me “Sir” when we first met? AND you’re a great fuck??”

The quirked eyebrow and smug gold-toothed grin he got in reply said more than words ever could, especially when accompanied by the satisfied rattling of that long, spiked tail.

“That’s one hell of a resume you’ve got there.” Blitzø didn’t even realize his own face had split into a grin until he saw it reflected in Striker’s eyes, hypnotized by the sheer reckless abandon he felt ignited between them. “Want to join I.M.P.?”

Striker couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to adjust the brim of his hat from where Blitz’s tail had nearly knocked it off, his unwavering gaze sparking into an infernal glow.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone a warm rumble of amusement meeting temptation. “You and I head on back to the stage, revel in our well-deserved glory, and--once we’re satisfied it’s been rubbed into the faces of those sorry ass losers enough--I’ll head on back up to the farm and have a little talk with Miss Mildred’s folks about finishin’ things up around here for the season. Maybe see if they can find another set of hands to join ‘em for the next one if mine are gonna be occupied with--” His hand found its way down to Blito’s face, the sharp claw-like nail of his thumb pressing under the shorter imp’s chin to tilt it up towards his own. “--other things.”

“Believe me, Cowboy,” Blitzø’s eyes were burning, twin embers of eagerness that ran so deep he could feel the heat of it vibrating through to his very core--and his vocal chords. “You’re not going to find a more hands-on job than the one you’re gonna get if you come and work for me. ESPECIALLY in that order.”

Striker’s tail snaked its way up and along past Blitz’s hip, the pointed tip flicking over his chest as it’s rattle joined in the chorus of that deep, heated purring.

“Don’t mind if I hold you to that, Sir.”

“Oh fuck me--”

And Striker did. Again.

~*~

Random Notes:

**My counterpart to the phrase “the belle of the ball”--”the dom of the disco”. I think I’m way funnier than I actually am. :D

ANYWAY tho I really hope y’all like it!! This is the first fanfic I’ve posted anywhere publicly in a hot minute so I hope it’s not a bad kickoff to something I’m hoping to really get back into!! I have plans to post the full fic of this--with the non-censored sex scene to my AO3 oohlala--so if that’s something you’d like to see, feel free to lemme know here and I can get right on that!! Otherwise have a great day, thanks for reading, and if anyone wants to hit me up for some lovely BlitzStrike talks, I’m always open to messages!!

Thanks again Lovelies!! <3

#BlitzStrike #Striker x Blitzo #Blitzo x Striker #Helluva Boss fanfiction #Helluva Boss #vizowrites

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