#and yeah I did it on purpose ~ not saying much about this quick sinful read | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beskarberry · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.” He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

TAG LIST:

@mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey @theflightytemptressadventure @emesispo @what-iwish-youknew @misscamptl @t3a-bag @poppunkdee @misscamptl @pandastasia @simpingmess @lilychristine01 @inaturenymph @buttercup--bee @blackd0gdesignuk @tanzthompson @transientblueseraph @jasmincita @sunnnygiiirl123 @beskarboobs @doin-stuff @marvelranger

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #self insert #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #smut

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titanicsimp · 4 years ago

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A lonely spot for two

Pairing: Zeke Yeager x Female!reader

Genres: Smut

Warnings: Sexual content including; vaginal sex, oral, creampie, semi-public sex. Zeke acting kinda sleazy.

Summary: As the daughter of a Marleyan general, seeing Zeke could mean the death of you both. But even as hidingspots are growing slim, he isn’t willing to stop your little affair.

Shudders from both the cold and your nerves run over your body as you skitter over the barely lid streets of the Eldian zone. The band that gives you a fake Eldian identity around your arm keeps slipping, having been intended for a man far larger than you. You wish all this sneaking around could stop, but you know that could never happen.

The fact that you kept seeing Zeke was incredibly stupid. Eldians and Marleyans did not mix, so if anyone found out about your secret rendezvous with him you would both suffer horrid fates. Both of you knew the danger full well, but it stopped neither of you of seeking each other out.

What had begun with stolen glances while you dropped things off for your father at meetings, now had you shadely meeting up with Zeke in a secluded alleyway.

“Zeke?” You whisper.

This is the spot where he told you to meet him, you are certain of it, but the darkness is so thick you can’t spot him in the long alley.

“Over here.”

You sigh in relief when you hear his voice and make your way towards it.

Zeke’s leaning against one of the brick walls, puffing away at his cigarette. When you’re close he gives you a lopsided smile.

“I would offer you one, but I doubt you’re willing to commit two sins tonight.”

You purse your lips. Ah, it’s one of those nights. “Hello to you too, Zeke.”

You give him a look as he continues standing against the wall with his cigarette. “Did you find a spot?”

He throws his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with the bottom of his boot. “Yeah, you’re standing in it.”

Surprise washes over your face and you look around in horror. He can’t be serious, a dirty alleyway?

“What’s wrong? Too lowly for a Marleyan?” He asks, provoking you on purpose.

“You know that’s not it.” You’re jaw tightens. Damn him for making you feel bad right now.

Zeke chuckles and saunters of to you. “I’m just teasing.” He puts a finger below your chin, raising it up. “Not being able to see you these past days has been exhausting. Have you not missed me?”

You sigh. You can’t stay mad at him right now. “I have, a lot.”

He gives you a smile. “Then this is okay, isn’t it? Just for once.”

You nod slowly in agreement and he pushes you with your back against the wall. His lips brush over yours as he continues holding your chin, and you feel your body come alive at the slight intimacy.

A noise makes you snap your head to the right, eyes wide. Luckily there’s nobody there, a piece of cardboard merely bumping into things as it’s carried by the wind.

“What if somebody sees us?” You question worriedly.

Zeke shrugs. “Should be fine, they’d probably just think you’re a prostitute.”

Displeasure is clear on your face at his comment.

Before you can protest, he presses his lips fully to yours. He gives you a sloppy kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and his lips moving wildly against yours. You grab onto his jacket and get pulled in regardless of your displeasure.

Not having been able to touch Zeke for almost a week had made your anticipation for tonight worse than usual. It had been hard to keep your mind in control during the day and stop it from drifting to him fucking your brains out.

He pulls away from the kiss and his cock twitches in his pants at the look of want on your face. “Seems like you don’t mind. Tell me, is it because you’re my little whore?”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks.

Zeke’s hand drifts from your chin to your neck, running his fingers over the length of it. “Come on, say it.”

You swallow down the embarrassment. It’s not that you don’t enjoy it, but you’re still not used to talking dirty like this. “I-I’m your little whore.”

He gives you a satisfied smile. “Good girl.”

You feel proud of yourself for pleasing him.

“Now, get on your knees.” He tells you with a predatory grin.

Doubt makes you glance around the alleyway. Gods, you’re really doing this here aren’t you.

With a last glance for reassurance at Zeke, you drop to your knees. The cobble street feels harsh against your knees, even through your skirt.

He hurriedly unbuttons his pants, pushing it down with his underwear just far enough so his cock is freed. A groan leaves his lips when he rubs the head against your lips. “Look at you...”

You obediently wrap your lips around his cock after he gives them a tap with it.

“You’re a real sight.” Zeke tells you and tangles his hand in your hair.

You suck on his cock, twirling your tongue around the head while doing so. You feel ashamed at how much you missed the taste of him.

The hand in your hair is joined by a second, and as he takes the back of your head in his hands you know what’s coming.

Zeke pants heavily as he pushes your head forward, forcing you to take his cock down your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes and you silently curse him for being so big.

He chuckles as he feels you struggle to take him that deep. To get him back, you wiggle your tongue as much as possible against the underside of his cock, making a groan interrupt his chuckling.

You brace your hands against his hips to keep some control as he starts moving your mouth up and down his cock harshly. You feel his muscles clench under your hands multiple times, telling you that’s he’s trying to keep himself from cumming.

Without warning, Zeke pulls your mouth off of his cock with a pop. You gasp and take in air, wiping the saliva off of your mouth.

“I’m not wasting my cum in your mouth.”

You shoot him a look. Bastard.

Lust and impatience are clear on his face as he drags you back up by your arm. He spins you around, resting your front against the wall.

“Zeke!” You yelp in surprise as he flips up your skirt and pushes aside your panties.

“You’re soaked.” He notes as he runs his fingers through your wetness.

You shiver as his mouth comes right next to your ear. “Does sucking me off get you that much?”

“Please.” You whimper and put your hands against the cold wall.

“Please what?” He ask and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You bite your lip as his fingers play with your cunt, teasingly dancing over your entrance.

“I want you.” You tell him desperately.

His fingers poke at your entrance more intendly. “You want my fingers or something bigger?”

Gods, if you weren’t so turned on you would slap his glasses off of his face. “B-bigger.”

Zeke laughs contently at your answer. His fingers leave you and he instead grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt, coating his length in your slick.

You bite your lip to muffle your moan when he pushes himself into you, sheathing his full length inside you in one go.

“You take me so well.” He praises you from behind, his hands finding your hips.

When he pulls out and thrusts back in with a wet clap against your ass, you feel truly dirty. Zeke doesn’t seem to care as he starts fucking you from behind without hesitation.

Your own reservations are quickly forgotten at the feeling of him stretching and filling your cunt. Those few days without it had been so dire that you’re worried you might be addicted.

His name leaves your mouth a bit too loud when he kisses the back of your neck.

“Ssshh, you don’t want someone to hear, do you?” He whispers against your neck.

You shake your head. “N-no! It just feels- ah- so good.”

One of his hands leaves your hips, instead coming up to cover your mouth. You pant heavily against his hand as he continues slamming his cock into you.

Wetness drips down your legs and you feel them shaking lightly after Zeke keeps on fucking you fast and hard for minutes. You’re getting close, and you bite down in his hand in preparation.

Instead of saying anything, he bends his knees slightly and snaps his hips against your ass in this adjusted angle. Your scream is silenced by his hand as you cum violently on his cock.

Your legs start feeling weak as the waves of your orgasm course through your body. Zeke’s grip on you is firm, and for the first time tonight you’re grateful for the sturdy wall in front of you.

His pants and groans start sounding more choked as he starts approaching his own orgasm. His hand leaves your mouth and he pulls your face to the side to kiss you.

You eagerly moan into his mouth as his hand rejoins the other on your hips. With his full strength available again, he holds you tightly as he slams into you hard.

His pace is erratic, only spurt on further by your squeezing walls. You make out with him feverishly as he rams his cock into you over and over. You’ve already cum and he still has you this desperate.

Zeke’s tongue leaves your mouth and he bites your bottomlip as he cums inside you. You choke back your mewls as both the sting at your lip and the sensation of feeling his hot seed filling you make your walls squeeze even tighter around him.

He gives a few more lazy thrusts as he continues cumming, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“I need to see you again tomorrow.” He tells you after he’s finished cumming.

Your throat feels dry when you speak. “A-alright.”

Zeke pulls out of you and tugs himself back in his pants, adjusting his clothes.

You squeal when he slaps your ass before adjusting your panties and skirt.

“Come on now, this is below your rank.” He teases you as your skirt drops down to cover the mess he made.

You give him a weak smile after you’ve turned around. “Seems like you enjoy putting me there.”

He grins and pulls you close by your waist. “Oh I’m more than enjoying tainting the poor general’s daughter.”

You roll your eyes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yeah yeah, how about you taint my ears with some government secrets then? I want to know how your days have been.”

Zeke frees you from his arms and plucks a cigarette from his pocket. His face lights up when he flicks on his lighter, betraying the slight flush on his face. “I would love to.”

Tag: @pandorasbox126 🥰

#zeke x reader #zeke yeager #smut #aot #Zeke smut #fanfic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #lemon #zeke jaeger #Zeke x reader smut #aot smut #snk smut #x reader #Zeke

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beef-brisket · 28 days ago

Text

((I love how wholesome this is 😫😫😫))

These next few days are going to be interesting. Adam has a meeting with Charlie and then he's meeting his last child. Mammon.

After a day of emotionally preparing himself for his private session, he felt semi prepared.

Charlie: Hi Adam! Have a seat.

Adam smiled and sat down on the couch.

Charlie: So. I hear you've had a busy few weeks! How did you like meeting the sins?

Adam: It's been good, actually.

Charlie: That's great! You've got only Mammon left to meet, right?

Adam: Uh- yeah... tomorrow.

Charlie: It'll go fine, Adam. I know you've been worried about Mammon. He's just a bit much, sometimes. But he's... I won't say he means we'll, because he doesn't- he's just... Mammon. I'm sure he'll love you. Everyone else has, and I'm not surprised. I know Mammon won't be any different.

Adam: Thanks, Charlie... it helps having Lucifer there... surprisingly.

Charlie: That's good, Adam. He's been worried about you, especially after the first few sins you met.

Adam: worried? I was just... going through it, you know? Just realizing a few things..

Charlie: Would you like to dive deeper into that?

Adam: Sure... what did you want to know?

Charlie: how did you feel after meeting Ozzie?

Adam: a bit shocked. He's uh... big.

Charlie laughs: Yeah, he is pretty big.

Adam: But I guess I had a feeling he would be... but he was so kind. And actually remembered me, to an extent. They all did. I really thought he'd hate me. Because I wasn't there... but I hated them to, so I wouldn't blame them if they didn't like me... but they don't. It's the opposite actually.

Charlie: why did you hate them?

Adam: Being the first man is literally my thing. It's all over. I got going for me... and giving birth... that's not my thing- well, it is but it's not meant to be. That's what the women were made for. I know that sounds bad, but you know what I mean. We were all made with a purpose and... I guess I lost my purpose once Ozzie was born.

Charlie: You said he was born after you saw mom, dad and Eve together. Did you blame them?

Adam: Maybe... I had no idea what was going on... I was more scared than playing the blame game... I tried not to think about it

Charlie: Fair enough. I heard you were worried about meeting Satan. Dad told me a little bit about how he came around. Were you worried because you were the first to commit the sin of Wrath?

Adam: Yeah... he was directly my fault. I feel bad for saying that. He's such a... sweetheart.

Charlie: He's misjudged. Like you, I think.

Adam: ...I guess...

Charlie: So. Mammon. Are you nervous about meeting him?

Adam: In a way, I've heard some things about him... but I was quick to judge the others, so I'm trying to keep an open mind. I'm actually looking forward to it in a way. Maybe after meeting him, I could see all of them. At the same time.

Charlie: I'm sure dad could set that up. But Satan told me you and dad are going to his festival. Most of the sins go to that, so that could be a great time for you to see them all! Oh, I'm so happy for you, Adam. I really am. And I'm proud of you. I remember how you spoke about what happened with Dazzle, then how you spoke about those unknown children, unknown at the time! But I'm so proud you're meeting them. I can tell you're happier.

Adam blushed and looked away. He wasn't used to hearing someone he proud of him.

Adam: Yeah, well... I'm really enjoying it. It's uh... I don't know... this might be stupid

Charlie: Nothings stupid, Adam. What's on your mind?

Adam: ...there's a part of me that wants it to happen again...

Charlie: What to happen?

Adam: ...the- you know... sudden pregnancy thing... I really want it to happen. I have no idea why- it still scares me. But I... want a baby... and I don't care what they look like... it's like... I'm craving it... I'm constantly waiting for that pain to happen... I get cramps sometimes, and I get excited, thinking it's happening again. I don't know what's wrong with me...

Charlie: Hm... maybe seeing that the sins are sweet and loving and not the monsters you thought they were has changed your mind. I could only imagine how scared you get when this happened, and seeing what they looked like didn't help. But maybe not you're seeing them as people, fully functioning beings. And they all love you. I know Mammon will love you.

Adam nodded, and that made sense. He's just all over the place, with meeting Mammon tomorrow and that festival coming up.

At least Lucifer is going with him.

Mother of Sins Au @beef-brisket

Adam didn't understand why it happened. But when it did it was the worst fucking thing he had ever went through on his fucking life.

And he once had his foot caught in a live trap.

But when he got to heaven and his descendants were thriving on earth, it happened six times. Each time more painful than the last.

Adam would get these horrible cramps and in a matter of a few minutes to an hour he would basically give birth to...... This ugly screaming monster! It was fucking horrible! But he didn't have long to dwell on it as a hole in the ground would open and take the child away.

Six fucking times.

He always feared it would happen again.

No one knew or told him why or how this happened. As long as it was done with, Adam didn't care he just wanted his peace in heaven that he fucking earned and deserved.

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jinkicake · 4 years ago

Text

Mouthful

You suck them off while they’re on the phone.

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Miya Osamu x Reader

Here you go Anon, I hope you like it!!! I am pushing the Oikawa, Kuroo, Bokuto bffs agenda because we were robbed of that interaction. I just know they would all be good friends like please,,,, imagine these mfs in college together as roommates.... It would be so perfect and they all have the brooding quiet type s/o heheh.... Also, I saw spoilers for bnha and um..... ummm.... UMMMMMM

SEMI-SMUTTY // NSFW

WC- 1,830

~~~

Kozume Kenma

Kenma has the best poker face, nothing is going to give away the fact that he is getting head

Except for when a tiny, tiny, appreciative sigh leaves his lips…..

Then the other person on the line, most definitely Kuroo will be like ‘Yo, what are you doing~’ Yes, Kuroo can tell when Kenma is getting head and will probably praise him for it

I think if you first try your advances Kenma would simply stare at you with disgust, making no effort to hide that same level of repulsiveness in his voice

He’d go along with it though because he is not going to try that hard to stop you, ‘why waste that energy’

His nimble fingers would card through your hair and he would instantly become relaxed like his shoulders would go limp and he’d flutter his eyes shut

Kenma would still be able to keep up with the conversation though because he doesn’t really add that much input anyway

However even though most people wouldn’t find any difference in his change of attitude….. Kuroo would notice, how can’t he? He would notice the subtle changes in his pudding hair best friend and would be like ‘are you getting head right now’

To which Kenma would go bright red and tense up really quick and try to hide it but ultimately give up and just sigh in defeat ‘yeah’

Kenma doesn’t like talking on the phone,,, you take it upon yourself to help him relax~

Kenma pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, trying hard not to let the hiss escape his lips. He doesn’t glance down at you, he knows that if he did, he would come undone. The feeling of your warm mouth sucking him in so nicely, your cheeks hollowing around his legnth, your tongue running underneath his cock, it makes his knees utterly weak.

“Yeah, I met that dude Oikawa, I don’t know why everyone hates him. He seems like a cool guy to me,” Kuroo aimlessly rambles, going on about how he met the well-known setter. “he’s going to hang out with Bokuto and I next weekend. You wanna come?”

Kenma sighs and it’s not because of your tongue. He silently thinks long and hard before speaking up again.

“No.”

You end up gagging on his length, blame on the fact that you tried laughing while sucking him off.

“Kenma, you’d really like him.” Kuroo persuades and Kenma mentally pictures the pros and cons.

“I’d rather play video games,” Kenma’s fingers rake through your hair and he makes the mistake of looking down at you. A quiet moan leaves his lips, the perfect little ‘ah’ that he doesn’t even hear himself. The line goes quiet for awhile and Kenma assumes that it is because Kuroo is trying to come up with another reason why Kenma should join them.

“Is (Y/N) giving you head right now?” Kuroo asks boldly and you gag once again, pinching your eyes shut at the humiliation. Defeat washes over Kenma.

“Yeah.” He sighs and Kuroo hums slightly.

“Finally, good for you, take it like a champ.” Kuroo praises and Kenma’s nose scrunches in disgust. “Anyway, I’ll come by at like nine on Saturday okay? Oikawa is only in Tokyo for the weekend.”

Kenma never can win, can he?

“Fine.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is suuuuch a showoff, please he will do it just to make you flustered

He will purposely roll his shoulders back, sit on the couch all arrogantly, stare straight into your eyes as he bites his lip, use his hand to push his hair back while purposely flexing his bicep, he does it all for your enjoyment as well

He is eye-candy and that bitch knows it,,,,, anything for his lovely s/o

Kuroo wouldn’t make any noises though because he doesn’t really want to get caught in the middle of a blowjob. You would refuse to finish him off and then he wouldn’t have your sweet mouth anymore…..

But,,,, if someone did catch him in the middle of a blowjob, Kuroo would not be embarrassed, please his ego would flourish I feel like he is into that kind of thing

Side bar…. Sometimes I go off with Kuroo and I think,,,, is this too occ? because I remember he is just a big science dork but then I remember no he is a scorpio and then it all makes sense, Kuroo is the best of both worlds

Kuroo wouldn’t be able to pay attention at all to the conversation at hand like Bokuto could be asking him questions about something and Kuroo is just like ‘yup, it was really hot today’ like he can’t keep up….. not when you’re so generously sucking him off

Then Kenma is like … and Akaashi is like … because they can put two and two together unlike their oblivious friend

It gets to the point where Kenma will start doing something else, like playing a video game while Bokuto tries to keep a conversation going between four people all by himself

Please, Kuroo is the ultimate tease with you but….. if he is going to get pleased then he will also try to please you as well

“And then the vice-principal got mad at me,” Bokuto groans loudly, his eye twitching as he thinks back to the incident that happened earlier in the week. “it’s not my fault he wears a wig!”

“Bokuto that was not the reason you got in trouble,” Akaashi sighs disappointedly, Kuroo doesn’t pay attention to them.

“What happened?” Kenma comments, slightly curious in the conversation at hand. Kuroo gently cups your cheek, running his thumb against your skin lovingly as he stares down you. At the sight of your teasing eyes and sinful tongue sucking on the tip of his hard cock, his thighs twitch beside you.

“… then Bokuto spiked the principals head to ‘kill the bug’ and also set his wig back to normal.” Akaashi finishes, heaving another disappointed sigh.

“See, I was helping him. He should be thanking me not scolding us for an hour.” Bokuto complains and Akaashi tries not to slap his captain through the phone.

“This is what I deal with on a daily basis, I even have a notebook to predict his next moves.” Akaashi tells Kenma, his head still numb from the scolding he had to endure earlier in the week.

“I don’t think anyone on our team is that bad, maybe Lev,” Kenma thinks and Kuroo licks his lips, his eyes darkening when he zones in on your mouth.

“Kuroo, is he even listening?” Bokuto asks curiously and Kenma narrows his eyes when he pieces together why his friend is so quiet. He knows Kuroo is either getting head or giving it.

“Ignore him, Bokuto, it’s good we don’t have to hear his voice.” Kenma tosses out and Kuroo gasps. Of course, out of everything, that is what he heard.

“Kenma!” Kuroo snaps and the setter simply hides further under his blanket on the other end of the line. “I’m just busy,”

“With what?” Bokuto eagerly pesters and Kuroo glances down at you once more.

“Stuff.”

Miya Osamu

Osamu also has a good poker face, nothing can give away that he is getting head…. There will be no slip-up from him

Unless Atsumu says something and Osamu’s competitive side jumps out for a hot second then…… then there is a slip up

‘Fuck you ‘Tsumu, I’m getting head that’s why I don’t care about your bullshit story’ cue a dramatic gasp from Atsumu and Ojiro on the other end of the line like … silence

Yeah, Osamu doesn’t do well when provoked…. Good luck with that one

Osamu wouldn’t say no to getting head like if you got onto your knees and pushed your hair back,,,, Osamu would be like ‘shit, here we go again’ he might be hesitant at first but then he will cockily accept it

He’ll carry on the conversation with disinterest, not really paying attention because all he can do is stare at you

Sometimes he will fuck your face,,,, literally….. he has no shame but when you gag too loudly then he lets you have control again

Osamu doesn’t really want to get caught…. He wants to shield you away from that

His little comments that he slides in conversations here and there will probably be noticed once he stops saying them because he is preoccupied with other things. The team can’t figure out what has him so distracted though

Osamu is usually pretty gentle,,,, until he gets angry so if you suck him off while he is having a conversation with Atsumu…. Good luck

“I have to help my grandmother around the house today, so there will be no practice. Take the day to rest.” Kita’s voice sounds throughout the multiple phones and Osamu lets out a soft hum. His eyes are staring directly at you while he holds your hair back out of your face, despite his neutral face you can still see the fondness swimming in his eyes.

“Say hi to gran for me!” Atsumu says and Ojiro glances at him, the two on the same device as they walk through the city.

“No.” Kita responds and Atsumu sighs dejectedly before going off on Ojiro when he starts to laugh at him.

Osamu continues to pay no attention to him, instead, he thrusts into your mouth while holding your head still so he can control the pace. It feels so good, he could fucking cum-

“Yo, ‘Samu what are you even doing? Reading your old man magazines?” Atsumu snickers when he notices how quiet his brother has been. Osamu closes his eyes momentarily, trying to calm himself down from snapping. He gently pulls himself off of you, allowing you to take over the pace.

“Eat shit ‘Tsumu.” Osamu snaps back, now watching the way your hands grip his strong thighs as you bob your head along his length.

“My grandmother-“ Kita starts but is quickly cut off.

“Ah, the shit that you cook ‘Samu?” Atsumu retorts, sticking his tongue out despite Osamu not being able to see it.

“Stop it, my grandmother-“ Kita tries again but Osamu interrupts him. The grip in your hair tightens as his anger grows.

“You really like that shit then since all you do is fucking eat it!” Osamu curses and Atsumu decides to tease him even more.

“I’ve never seen (Y/N) eat your cooking, that’s how you know it’s shit.” A gasp is heard right after Atsumu’s comment, Suna’s mouth falls open in shock.

“She eats all my cooking, I feed her well but right now she’s too busy sucking my dick.” Osamu spits and you immediately pull off of him, your mouth a perfect ‘o’ as you stare up at him in disbelief.

“You, right now?” Atsumu asks slowly and the line goes quiet.

“My grandmother is listening, I have the phone on speaker.” Kita finally finishes and the Miya twins start to count their final days.

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee

#kozume kenma x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #miya osamu x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #osamu x reader #kenma smut #kuroo smut #osamu smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut

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cappymightwrite · 3 years ago

Note

What draws you to incest ?

*sighs* Ok, here we go. I'm a real card carrying Jonsa now aren't I?

Anon, listen. I know this is an anti question that gets bandied about a lot, aimed at provoking, etc, when we all know no Jonsa is out here being all you know what, it really is the incest, and the incest alone, that draws me in. I mean, come on now. Grow up.

If I was "drawn" to incest I'd be a fan of Cersei x Jaime, Lucrezia x Cesare, hell Oedipus x Jocasta etc... but I haven't displayed any interest in them now, have I? So, huh, it can't be that.

Frankly, it's a derivitive question that is really missing the mark. I'm not "drawn" to it, though yeah, it is an unavoidable element of Jonsa. The real question you should be asking though, is what draws GRRM to it? Because he obviously is drawn to it, specifically what is termed the "incest motif" in academic and literary scholarship. That is a far more worthwhile avenue of thinking and questioning, compared with asking me. Luckily for you though anon, I sort of anticipated getting this kind of question so had something in my drafts on standby...

You really don't have to look far, or that deeply, to be hit over the head by the connection between GRRM's literary influences and the incest motif. I mean, let's start with the big cheese himself, Tolkein:

Tolkein + Quenta Silmarillion

We know for definite that GRRM has been influenced by Tolkein, and in The Silmarillion you notably have a case of unintentional incest in Quenta Silmarillion, where Túrin Turambar, under the power of a curse, unwittingly murders his friend, as well as marries and impregnates his sister, Nienor Níniel, who herself had lost her memory due to an enchantment.

Mr Tolkein, "what draws you to incest?"

Old Norse + Völsunga saga

Tolkein, as a professor of Anglo-Saxon, was hugely influenced by Old English and Old Norse literature. The story of the ring Andvaranaut, told in Völsunga saga, is strongly thought to have been a key influence behind The Lord of the Rings. Also featured within this legendary saga is the relationship between the twins Signy and Sigmund — at one point in the saga, Signy tricks her brother into sleeping with her, which produces a son, Sinfjotli, of pure Völsung blood, raised with the singular purpose of enacting vengence.

Anonymous Norse saga writer, "what draws you to incest?"

Medieval Literature as a whole

A lot is made of how "true" to the storied past ASOIAF is, how reflective it is of medieval society (and earlier), its power structures, its ideals and martial values etc. ASOIAF, however, is not attempting historical accuracy, and should not be read as such. Yet it is clearly drawing from a version of the past, as depicted in medieval romances and pre-Christian mythology for instance, as well as dusty tomes on warfare strategy. As noted by Elizabeth Archibald in her article Incest in Medieval Literature and Society (1989):

Of course the Middle Ages inherited and retold a number of incest stories from the classical world. Through Statius they knew Oedipus, through Ovid they knew the stories of Canace, Byblis, Myrrha and Phaedra. All these stories end more or less tragically: the main characters either die or suffer metamorphosis. Medieval readers also knew the classical tradition of incest as a polemical accusation,* for instance the charges against Caligula and Nero. – p. 2

The word "polemic" is connected to controversy, to debate and dispute, therefore these classical texts were exploring the incest motif in order to create discussion on a controversial topic. In a way, your question of "what draws you to incest?" has a whiff of polemical accusation to it, but as I stated, you're missing the bigger question.

Moving back to the Middle Ages, however, it is interesting that we do see a trend of more incest stories appearing within new narratives between the 11th and 13th centuries, according to Archibald:

The texts I am thinking of include the legend of Judas, which makes him commit patricide and then incest before betraying Christ; the legend of Gregorius, product of sibling incest who marries his own mother, but after years of rigorous penance finally becomes a much respected pope; the legend of St Albanus, product of father-daughter incest, who marries his mother, does penance with both his parents but kills them when they relapse into sin, and after further penance dies a holy man; the exemplary stories about women who sleep with their sons, and bear children (whom they sometimes kill), but refuse to confess until the Virgin intervenes to save them; the legends of the incestuous begetting of Roland by Charlemagne and of Mordred by Arthur; and finally the Incestuous Father romances about calumniated wives, which resemble Chaucer's Man of Law's Tale except that the heroine's adventures begin when she runs away from home to escape her father's unwelcome advances. – p. 2

I mean... that last bit sounds eerily quite close to what we have going on with Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that from a medieval and classical standpoint... GRRM is not unique in his exploration of the incest motif, far from it.

Sophocles, Ovid, Hartmann von Aue, Thomas Malory, etc., "what draws you to incest?"

Faulkner + The Sound and the Fury, and more!

Moving on to more modern influences though, when talking about the writing ethos at the heart of his work, GRRM has famously quoted William Faulker:

His mantra has always been William Faulkner’s comment in his Nobel prize acceptance speech, that only the “human heart in conflict with itself… is worth writing about”. [source]

I’ve never read any Faulker, so I did just a quick search on “Faulkner and incest” and I pulled up this article on JSTOR, called Faulkner and the Politics of Incest (1998). Apparently, Faulkner explores the incest motif in at least five novels, therefore it was enough of a distinctive theme in his work to warrant academic analysis. In this journal article, Karl F. Zender notes that:

[...] incest for Faulkner always remains tragic [...] – p. 746

Ah, we can see a bit of running theme here, can't we? But obviously, GRRM (one would hope) doesn’t just appreciate Faulkner’s writing for his extensive exploration of incest. This quote possibly sums up the potential artistic crossover between the two:

Beyond each level of achieved empathy in Faulkner's fiction stands a further level of exclusion and marginalization. – pp. 759–60

To me, the above parallels somewhat GRRM’s own interest in outcasts, in personal struggle (which incest also fits into):

I am attracted to bastards, cripples and broken things as is reflected in the book. Outcasts, second-class citizens for whatever reason. There’s more drama in characters like that, more to struggle with. [source]

Interestingly, however, this essay on Faulkner also connects his interest in the incest motif with the romantic poets, such as Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron:

As Peter Thorslev says in an important study of romantic representations of incest, " [p]arent-child incest is universally condemned in Romantic literature...; sibling incest, on the other hand, is invariably made sympathetic, is sometimes exonerated, and, in Byron's and Shelley's works, is definitely idealized.” – p. 741

Faulkner, "what draws you to incest?" ... I mean, that article gives some good explanations, actually.

Lord Byron, Manfred + The Bride of Abydos

Which brings us onto GRRM interest in the Romantics:

I was always intensely Romantic, even when I was too young to understand what that meant. But Romanticism has its dark side, as any Romantic soon discovers... which is where the melancholy comes in, I suppose. I don't know if this is a matter of artistic influences so much as it is of temperament. But there's always been something in a twilight that moves me, and a sunset speaks to me in a way that no sunrise ever has. [source]

I'm already in the process of writing a long meta about the influence of Lord Byron in ASOIAF, specifically examining this quote by GRRM:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

Lord Byron, "what draws you to—", oh, um, right. Nevermind.

I'm not going to repeat myself here, but it's worth noting that there is a clear through line between GRRM and the Romantic writers, besides perhaps melancholic "temperament"... and it's incest.

But look, is choosing to explore the incest motif...well, a choice? Yeah, and an uncomfortable one at that, but it’s obvious that that is what GRRM is doing. I think it’s frankly a bit naive of some people to argue that GRRM would never do Jonsa because it’s pseudo-incest and therefore morally repugnant, no ifs, no buts. I’m sorry, as icky as it may be to our modern eyes, GRRM has set the president for it in his writing with the Targaryens and the Lannister twins.

The difference with them is that they knowingly commit incest, basing it in their own sense of exceptionalism, and there are/will be bad consequences — this arguably parallels the medieval narratives in which incest always ends badly, unless some kind of real penance is involved. For Jon and Sansa, however, the Jonsa argument is that they will choose not to commit incest, despite a confused attraction, and then will be rewarded in the narrative through the parentage reveal, a la Byron’s The Bride of Abydos. The Targaryens and Lannisters, in several ways excluding the incest (geez the amount of times I’ve written incest in this post), are foils for the Starks, and in particular, Jon and Sansa. Exploring the incest motif has been on the cards since the very beginning — just look at that infamous "original" outline — regardless of whether we personally consider that an interesting writing choice, or a morally inexcusable one.

Word of advice, or rather, warning... don't think you can catch me out with these kinds of questions. I have access to a university database, so if I feel like procrastinating my real academic work, I can and will pull out highly researched articles to school you, lmao.

But you know, thanks for the ask anyway, I guess.

#cappy's thoughts #I'm still on my break/hiatus #i just had some of this already written #jonsa #jon x sansa #anti bs #grrm and medieval literature #grrm and william faulkner #grrm and the romantics #grrm and tolkein #grrm and old norse literature #grrm and his literary influences #was this petty lmao?

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kstewdeux · 3 years ago

Text

@inukagfluffweek

August 11, 2021 - Touch

Lewd

For the life of him, Inuyasha could not figure out why people were staring at them more than usual or, more unnervingly, why Miroku kept giving him some very uncomfortable glances filled to the brim with amusement. Per the norm when the things made him uneasy, Inuyasha had taken to sticking a little closer to Kagome than he traditionally would have in a clearly hostile village. Not because he couldn’t protect himself, okay? He was perfectly capable of protecting himself and had for over a hundred years. And, to be clear, being around her didn’t make him feel safe. Definitely didn’t need to feel safe when he could defeat these assholes with one hand behind his back. He absolutely did not need Kagome to protect him and she wouldn’t be able to do much on that front in any case. It was just that he felt a little more secure near her. Secure was not the same thing as safe. Not at all. He didn’t need her to feel safe. Just…a little more confident when he was admittedly a little anxious people were staring. At first, it actually wasn’t that bad but the stares just kept getting worse and so…

But he was not staying close because he was scared. He wasn’t scared of anything. Except, well, losing her so…so that was probably why he felt the need to stay close. So he could protect her if shit hit the fan. Knowing that she was safe made his chest less tight and his stomach stop churning. Sure as hell wasn’t because…

Letting out a controlled exhale, Inuyasha distractedly flicked at some crust that had somehow lodged itself in the corner of one eye before letting his hand drop again.

“What a beautiful public display,” Miroku hummed as he sidled up to his companions and gave Inuyasha a mischievous grin, “It’s almost heartwarming to see two young people so in love.”

For some unknown reason, Kagome choked as her heart started beating so fast from fear Inuyasha’s instincts nearly went into overdrive. Why the hell was the wench so terrified?

Glancing around, amber eyes widened at the realization that Kagome might be just as worried about the stares they’d been receiving. Maybe she was staying close to him for….similar reasons he’d been staying close to her.

“You need to shut up,” Inuyasha hissed quietly before lowering his volume more so as to not be overheard - somehow making the monk look even more amused, “This ain’t the place to say shit like that. The villagers have been watching me like a hawk.”

“I absolutely cannot imagine why,” Miroku snickered as he pointedly glanced down and set his jaw to keep his shit eating grin in check, “In any case, Sango is almost done buying provisions so why don’t we move on ahead, hm?”

“Fine by me,” Inuyasha huffed as he began walking forward only to realize - when the thing in his hand jerked once to keep him in place - exactly why people were staring. Amber eyes widened in mild horror as they darted to the hand clasped securely in his own which was attached to the miko herself.

When did they start holding hands? He sure as hell didn’t do that and yet his palm was slightly sweaty indicating he’d been holding her hand for some time now.

“We should wait for her,” Kagome chided nervously as she gave Inuyasha’s hand a light squeeze making butterflies erupt in his stomach, “It shouldn’t be much longer.”

Mentally going over their day, Inuyasha tried to pin point when exactly the hand-holding started. They’d been walking side by side most of the day but he…he didn’t remember…

She must’ve started it.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Inuyasha asked - even though he took no action to cease the contact.

Giving him a strange look, the miko gave him an answer he did not like.

“Because you kept putting your hand in mine?” Kagome replied slowly - her worried look morphing into an amused one, “Wait…”

Some flashed behind her eyes and the melting look on her face made his stomach churn.

“Aw, you didn’t…”

“No ‘aw’. There is no ‘aw’ here,” Inuyasha huffed as he pulled his hand back and tucked both hands into his sleeves, “You did this. Not me.”

The melting look increased and Kagome gave him an affectionate smile.

“Awww….”

“What did I say about no ‘aw’!” Inuyasha huffed desperately, “I didn’t start this.”

“Yes you did,” Kagome sing songed and much to Inuyasha utter shock, a nearby elderly human woman chuckled softly to herself while looking between the pair with something akin to strangerly affection. Which disturbed him as much if not more than whatever was happening with him and his wandering hand.

Breathing heavily, Inuyasha’s mind continued racing down every moment of this fateful day. Trying to find the moment or apparently moments where he’d been the one to instigate the offensive touch but no matter how hard he tried, he had no memory of it. None whatsoever. Every minute of that day had felt natural. Normal even.

“D-do I do shit like that a lot?” he finally asked - his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to keep his composure.

“No but I liked it,” Kagome admitted with a hum before taking a step closer and giving him a shy smile that had his ears pinning back against his head.

And then she did something that absolutely crashed his mind…

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

“You can hold my hand whenever you…”

“Are you insane?! You can’t just kiss me like that in strange villages,” Inuyasha hissed as his mind finally caught up - his hand desperately trying to wipe away the perceived sin. Kagome’s grin only made his anger and discomfort grow hotter.

“To be clear then, it’s okay if I do that in familiar places?” came her teasing retort and for a moment, Inuyasha was almost very, very stupid. He almost said something along of the line of forbidding kisses entirely. Something he most certainly did not want to forbid. Especially considering she was pretty much saying she’d give him kisses if he wanted them.

Blushing faintly, Inuyasha decided the best course of action was to react normally. Brush her off and declare her stupid…

Thankfully the old woman watching saw the incoming relationship bomb coming before it landed and for some unknown reason, felt inclined to defuse the explosive before it detonated.

“Be bold boy and say yes,” the elderly woman chuckled softly, “A girl like that won’t wait for you forever and the monk is right. Anyone with eyes can see you love her.”

“Stay outta this” Inuyasha snapped irritably - a reaction to which the old woman thankfully seemed amused by, “What makes you so bold?”

Miroku’s hand flew to the top of his head - hoping his friend didn’t just incur someone’s wrath and also…didn’t Inuyasha just say they shouldn’t draw attention to themselves? Was this just how he coped with fear and anxiety? Antagonize people? If so, how was Inuyasha still alive?!

“Well this was my husbands village and now it belongs to my son. Everything that happens here is my business,” the old woman hummed - giving the somewhat nervous trio a reassuring smile, “And seeing as how you’re in my village, what I say goes.”

“Crack pot,” Inuyasha huffed - earning a full blown facepalm from the miko - and the old woman, to her credit, simply smirked. Not at all afraid of the teenager even with all his fangs and demonic energy. Mostly because he was obviously domesticated and in the presence of equally powerful friends who could stop him from doing any real damage but also because this demon clearly had a good heart and therefore, she reasoned, wouldn’t harm her.

And while that was all mostly true, that didn’t mean Inuyasha wasn’t seriously considering punching her.

“Inuyasha, you need to be nicer to people.”

“Fine. Fine,” Inuyasha huffed as his blush deepened. Glancing at the old woman to make sure she wasn’t upset by what he’d said, Inuyasha turned his gaze back towards the miko who was clearly expecting him to apologize to the old woman. Which he wasn’t gunna do but he could fix one thing that probably needed fixing for a while now.

Squaring his shoulders, Inuyasha cleared his throat and…tried…

“It’d be annoying but if you…you want to kiss me sometimes, I won’t stop you.”

Kagome blinked once then twice.

“Come again?”

Quickly reaching over to push Miroku away face first before he could add in his two cents, Inuyasha tried to look like what he’d said wasn’t awkward as hell.

“I said if you want to kiss me, go ahead. Old bat was right,” Inuyasha hufffed before his eyes widened in horror at what he’d impulsively implied, “I mean, you already j-just do shit. I c-can’t really stop you.”

Kagome made a bemused face and wrinkled her nose at this bizarre admission. That was at least twice now that Inuyasha hadn’t shot someone down after they announced he loved her. Which was unusual and for someone as easily triggered as he was, that left her with a most wonderful conclusion.

One that he apparently realized she’d come to and so Inuyasha did what Inuyasha do.

He tried to protect himself. Poorly.

“I see that look. Don’t be stupid. I mean…yeah, she was right about…about the love part…I do, um, love you, ya know, as a friend. A good friend. And, um, sometimes friends they kiss I think.”

“Well if that is true I must inform San…”

With a soft groan at his own cringeworthy awkwardness, Inuyasha once again necessarily pressed his hand against the closer than usual monk’s face and gave it a light push. This was already nerve racking enough without the monk making it more weird on purpose. First he was holding his woman’s hand without realizing and now he’d all but admitted how he felt. Something he’d been denying himself because he didn’t want to force someone to walk beside him as he faced the constant pile of shit being thrown at him. Add to that he didn’t deserve to be happy when Kikyo was suffering and it was just…wrong to feel like he did.

What he wanted didn’t matter. It never mattered…

Kagome smiled and his stomach turned into pleasant knots.

Except it did. Hell did it ever. He couldn’t even go more than a day without this woman before he lost his fucking mind. What was he going to do if she knew and didn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if a chance at a relationship ended badly?! If she left him, she’d take the only friends he’d ever had with her…

He’d be alone…

“Uh….huh…”

Panicking now, Inuyasha decided to rely on old faithful and go for an insult to force her back into friendship lane. This was getting into dangerous territory. She knew. Mainly because he told her but he…he could fix it.

“W-why are you so s-stupid, huh?” Inuyasha added a little desperately and much to his horror Kagome’s knowing smile only grew, “I’m just saying you just do shit and…I mean, what am I supposed to do, huh? You just throw yourself at…”

The old woman snickered at the scene and threw in her thoughts with a bemused laugh, “Please just kiss him young lady and put us all out of our misery. He talks far too much for his own good.”

“STAY OUTTA THIS YOU OLD…” Inuyasha began to bellow before whimpering softly when Kagome sealed his mouth with her own. Before he knew it, his arms were pulling her up and against him to give her the best access. It was beautiful and pure and everything he’d hoped a real kiss would be like. While she had done that before, this was the first time she’d done it for a reason other than saving his sorry ass. She’d done that only because she wanted to and that fact that she’d done it just because nearly brought a tear to his eye. Did she…did she love him back?

“You know,” Kagome panted lightly as she pulled back and nuzzled her man’s nose, “I love you too.”

Visibly wilting in relief, Inuyasha gave Kagome the most affectionate look anyone had ever seen on his face. A look that crumpled and turned to annoyance when Miroku made another comment about ‘public displays’.

The old woman simply rolled her eyes and continued on her way - mentally chuckling to herself about how the youth of today could be so foolish and how life was far too short.

A short distance away her middle aged son was watching his mother with a weary smile while the pair of mercenaries seemed to discuss something of great magnitude.

“That’s a dangerous thing you just did.”

“I did nothing but nudge those two down a path they were already on,” the old woman chuckled softly - reaching out to pat her son’s arm, “Love is love sweetheart. It’s one of those funny things in life that just is.”

For a long moment, the son watched the newly formed couple as they resumed holding hands before sighing and turning to follow his mother.

“I meant you meddle far too much” the son continued - glancing over his shoulder to make sure they went being overheard, “They’re mercenaries by trade. You saw their weapons. Probably fresh from some war and…”

“Mercenaries deserve love as well…”

The son let out a long exhale and rolled his eyes.

“Mother. That boy had claws…”

“Claws deserve love…”

The son stopped mid step and groaned that kind of exasperated groan only a child with an embarrassing parent would understand before glancing over his shoulder to watch the little band move on towards their next bounty. One day his mother was going to try to play matchmaker with the wrong two people…

But thankfully, it would seem she always managed to pick the right ones.

#inukag fluff week #inukag fluff week 2021 #inukag #inuyasha #kagome #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #kstewdeux

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mitsukui · 4 years ago

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cherry explosion | b.w.

Pairing: Bill Weasley x female reader.

Summary: unexpectedly, Bill finds a way to give you the best New Year’s Eve you have ever had.

Word Count: 1,7k.

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (female receiving). Mentions of alcohol, drinking, and one-night stands ending badly.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: sending all of my love to those who are spending their New Year’s Eve by themselves! Dear @maddi-sun18, thank you so much for the request, and I hope this can bring you some comfort. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Sometimes, it was so easy to read men. Their actions were so predictable, and they never failed to act exactly the same as the ones who had been there previously.

You wondered if there was some sort of training for young gentlemen on how to pick up girls at hotel bars. There seemed to be four steps for a man to follow in order to get lucky: one – exchange looks with the chosen pretty girl; two – lure the prey by offering her a fizzy and fruity drink; three – make small conversation, and say she is different from any other girl in the room; and, finally, four – get into her panties.

All of that was bullshit, and you would never fall for it.

And, perhaps, that was why you panicked a bit when a painfully attractive man approached you in a different way.

“Hey.” He shot you a small, yet, charming smile. “Do you mind if I sit here? If I listen to Patricia Rakepick talking about her adventures in Japan for one more bit, I might die.”

Both of you were taking part in an international conference on Curse-Breaking. The event had gathered wizards and witches from all around the globe, which caused Gringotts to rent a few areas on a muggle hotel in London for it. Although it was a knotty task for so many people to act as if they had no magical powers rushing through their veins, every participant seemed to be doing well on their own.

His presence there was perfectly reasonable, once he was a Curse-Breaker himself. Yours, however, was a bit questionable. You, as a columnist for the Daily Prophet, had been asked to cover the event, and could not be any less excited about it.

It was New Year’s Eve. All you wanted to do was go home to your family and friends.

While many people were not shy on showing their personal preference for Christmas, you were crazy about New Year’s Eve. The upcoming novel 365 days for you to live as if they were your last, the fancy dresses you always insisted on wearing, the taste of fizzy and fruity drinks lingering in your mouth until January 1st – all of that meant something to you, as brainless as it sounded.

Your peevish ways were soon destroyed by his sudden presence and polite attitudes. After you agreed with his company, it did not take long until you were laughing about the event and the people attending it.

As a matter of fact, Curse-Breakers were rather odd and monotonous people. The man with fiery, long hair seemed to be a clear exception to them, with his exotic fang earring, and his dragonhide boots. He also was to be the only good-looking one in that crowded bar, in that stupidly sophisticated hotel.

He was surprising you second by second. Breaking every single trait of loathing you had piled up for men, due to failed relationships and other women’s reports, he was showing himself as a funny and respectful man.

Between a few drinks, you had talked about his insanely big family, your repetitive daily life, his experiences in Egypt, and how you accidently had Apparated in Colombia once, being left without any knowledge of Spanish.

There was something sweet and intoxicating about him; about the way he asked to hold your hand while you were talking, and about the way he confessed and apologized for being unable to stop staring at your lips and wondering what they felt like.

“They probably taste like cherries now.” You leaned in and whispered, the dizzy sensation caused by your Cherry Bomb drink starting to tingle your insides. In a bold movement, you took your cocktail glass towards him. With your other hand, you touched his chin, and pushed it down a bit, forcing his mouth to part open. Your gaze transformed itself into a flirty one, and you told him to sip your drink so he could get a better grasp on what you tasted like.

It did not take long for you to crash your lips against his after that. You felt comfortable doing exactly what you were doing. You felt like you were in command of your own feelings. There was no stupid game of prey and hunter. There was no lie being told so one would get lucky.

At that moment, there were only two adults, being nice to each other and understanding their desires fully.

Unlike so many other men, he had respected you and, in the midst of slightly drunken kisses and touches, he kept on trying to be certain you were okay and you really wanted that.

Bill was briefly tipsy as well, his tongue tasting like the scotch he had earlier. The mixture between your cherry-like taste and his own made you feel like you were in heaven, although his kisses were growing to be hungry and more desperate.

Half an hour later, your hair spread across the pillow he was temporarily using for sleeping purposes. Your dress had been lifted up until your stomach, and your underwear was now nowhere to be found.

His soft hands roamed around your inner thighs as his tongue lapped your juices. Surprisingly, he was terrific at that, and you suspected you would crave more once he was done.

As he gave short licks to your clit and his tongue ran around your folds, two of his fingers were inserted in you. You arched your back, and reached out for his hair. You allowed your own fingers to tug delicately on his locks, his name leaving your lips religiously. He kept on pumping in and out of you, the pressure on your soft spot increasing each time.

The burning knot in your loins became tighter, and he adored how you clenched your walls around him so strongly. You were a mumbling, breathy mess, but he was entirely mesmerized by the sight, and the intimacy you were sharing.

Almost as if destiny was playing a prank on you, when you hit your first orgasm, fireworks started exploding outside the window of his hotel room. You squeezed your eyes shut, and cried out in the greatest pleasure you had ever felt in your entire life.

Slurping and sinful noises were produced as you came back from your high, still moaning. Your entire body trembled violently, but his big hands soothed your delicious torture.

He looked at you and chuckled quietly, your fluids still hanging on his lips, making them even more kissable than before. You were stunning in his eyes, and he feared not being able to let you go after the morning would come.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

January 1st came as softly and quietly as it possibly could. You dozed off in his arms after you spent a bit watching the fireworks show, and talking as well. The fact he was a grown man, but still could hold a decent conversation for so long, without any visible struggles was amusing.

You woke up to the next morning weak daylight peeking through the curtains and tickling your cheeks. Something inside your chest felt amazing. Flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind, and you could not hold a smile back. Funny enough, the taste of your Cherry Bomb drink still lingered faintly on your tongue.

However, all of your peace of mind vanished in the very instant you realized you had woken up by yourself. Waves of embarrassment and regret crashed in your heart, and you felt ridiculous for falling for all of the sweet nothings that had escaped his lips.

“Yes, that would be all. Yes. Room 716. Thank you very much.”

His enchanting voice shattered your own trance into a million pieces, and his bare footsteps announced he was returning to the same spot where you were at. You pulled the white sheets up and covered your naked torso, still unsure of how you would have to deal with the rising tension of the situation.

He soon captured the image of you being up and a glorious grin painted his lips. “Good morning.” His lower body was covered by a pair of dark jeans, which seemed to embrace his existence perfectly well, despite being different from the visual image he displayed last night. How was it possible for someone to look that good early in the morning? Or was it really early? What time was it? What did happen after the fireworks? With a timid voice, you wished him a good morning, too, but remained silent afterwards. It was difficult for you to ponder your next actions.

“So, the room service guys will be here shortly. I took the freedom to order us some breakfast.” His eyes gleamed with a pure kindness as the words slipped out of his lips. “I hope you fancy some orange juice in the morning.” He was offering you nothing but soft spoken words, and thoughtful actions

What was that?!

“B-Breakfast?” You repeated the key word of the whole conversation in surprise. No one had ever prepared, or even ordered, you breakfast after a night of sex and lust.

“Yeah.” Bill was quick to notice your tone of surprise and, somehow, it was funny to him. A girl like you, whom had shown him nothing but a great personality so far, should be used to being pampered like that. “Did you think for one second that I’d just eat you out like that, and leave you hanging the next morning?”

Honestly? Yes. You did think of that. You feared you would be tricked once more. One more disappointment to be added to your personal archive. One more reason to continue living your life despising men.

His arms were crossed against his chest and he shook his head, a dismissive, short laugh echoing through the room. “I would be mental if I ever did that. In a few hours, you managed to wow me.”

He made his way to the bed, and his body sank down on the mattress, being placed right next to yours. Truth being told, without the alcohol, you felt quite shy being that close to such a handsome man. “And, if you allow me to, I want to continue seeing you. I want to get to know more of you.”

A snuggly heat erupted in you, and it was a novel sensation for you. Perhaps, not all men had those devilish ways in them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really feel like kissing you right now. But, given your astonished behaviors, I’m not sure if you’d enjoy that. What do you tell me?”

Perhaps, this new year would not be so terrible.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley #bill weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #smut #🌼 — personal: writings

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hubbytaeil · 4 years ago

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Hiiiii can I request a hyuck smut with 6, 16?? Like oc being super cocky and bratty and him not being able to keep up with her sometimes so he just has to fuck her up a little bit, idk maybe turn her fierce personality into a pillow princess? I can’t believe I’m gonna ask for this but can him suck/lick her cheek?

Thanks so much for sharing your works✨💕

Donghyuck + #6 It’s a real shame that no one asked for your opinion & #16 Did you hear something

genre: smut

contains: swearing, way too many petnames, praising

word count: 2525

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while (hence the santa claus joke) but hey she’s here, hope you like it <3

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ prompts ̥ ⋆ˊˎ-

"Did you hear something?" "What?" Donghyuck turns his head, following where your gaze has posed. It gives you enough time to steal a punch of fries from his plate and stuff them in your mouth. When he realises what you're doing (for the umpteenth time during lunch), he is the face of disappointment. "I'm going to break this plate over your head if you do that again." He replies with the straightest look you've ever seen on him. "No, you wouldn't." You assure him, sending him a flying kiss to which Donghyuck answers with fake gagging sounds. "Drama queen." You hiss, biting onto your hangover burrito. "Oh, look who's talking." "Oh, shut up." "Someone's forgotten the scene she caused last night." You munch shaking your head left and right. "I have no idea what you're talking about, are you sure it wasn't you?"

You tease after swallowing the big bite. "I wasn't blacked out drunk, clinging on my friend and whining like a little bitch." You snicker at how offended he looks, fists tight on the edge of the table. "So what? Are you mad you couldn't get any pussy because of me?" Donghyuck's eyes widen in shock as the restaurant falls silent. You have a sneaky look in your eyes, perfectly aware that every single client has heard your not so ladylike remark. You bite into your plastic straw and Donghyuck is not sure why his cheeks are flushed now. "I wouldn't worry too much, Hyuckie." You say after taking a sip of soda. "It's not like you would've gotten any if I wasn't there anyway." Donghyuck gives you a dry laugh, glaring at you. "As a matter of fact, you didn't get laid either, missy." "At least I got some offers" "Oh, yeah? From who? The stripper that was dressed like Santa Claus?" You chuckle remembering how absurd (and hot) that guy looked. "No, from Mark." Donghyuck's jaw drops to floor, as you finish your drink, purposely exaggerating the sounds coming from the can. "You fucked Mark?! What the fuck, y/n." "We didn't fuck." You affirm, standing up to get the bill.

Donghyuck haunts you all the way back to your apartment until you spill every detail. "So, he chickened out?" Donghyuck laughs, anticipating the moment when he will be able to tease Mark about the entire incident. "I guess he was taken back, the poor thing." "By what exactly?" He looks at you from head to toe mockingly. You hit his shoulder purposely hard and he whines. "We weren't doing anything crazy once we got back to his place, just the usual... some groping, some kissing..." Donghyuck shakes his shoulders vigorously letting out disgusted sounds, trying to shake off the vision of his friend Mark in a sexual situation. "But then I started talking dirty and he just sort of... stared at me. Like, just staring. He looked like a deer in headlights. Just stood there." "Oh my God." Donghyuck bursts out a big laugh as he imagines everything you're saying. "Please, tell me what you said to him." He is more than ready to take written notes if that means embarrassing Mark Lee. "Well..." you hesitate, wondering if you're getting a bit too personal. "Something like 'yeah baby, I know you want to fuck this pussy, come and get it you bastard'." Donghyuck stops his steps on the concrete, not expecting to hear these words flow out of your mouth at 2 p.m. on a Sunday. You turn around and see him take in the little too graphic information. Slowly, he starts massaging the bridge of his nose, sighing, feeling unexpectedly bad for his strictly vanilla sex-oriented friend. "Y/n, of course he chickened out, Jesus. I mean... I guess you don't know him that well." You shrug your shoulders unbothered. "Whatever, he looks like he only does it in missionary." you both resume your walk. "And he probably does." Donghyuck chuckles. "I guess no one can tame me." You joke, but Donghyuck doesn't take it as such. Those word stick with him until you reach your door. It doesn't help when the wind swiftly blows under your dress while you're unlocking your door, teasing Donghyuck with a quick glimpse of your white laced panties, you don't even notice. That's when he realises, he's been staring at your ass.

The afternoon continues lazily, both of you still feeling the final effects of last night's drinks. You put on some classic rom-com you both saw thousands of times just to kill another few hours and have the excuse to slack on your couch. Every time the handsome male lead comes on you let out a weird strained sound that annoys Donghyuck until he can't take it anymore. "He's not even that good looking, y/n." "It's a real shame that no one asked for your opinion." You fire back, lifting up your leg to hit him with your foot. He groans but doesn't do anything to stop you, so you just keep on going, curious on how long he'll last. "Y/n, stop." His tone is lower than ever, he's not even looking at you but it's enough to make something snap in you. "What if I don't?" You whisper, tapping your foot on his thigh restlessly. He finally turns to you, setting up little flames all over your skin with just his eyes. He goes from your cocky smile, to the slightly visible line of your breasts, and down to where your dress is barely covering what's under it. Donghyuck grins without moving any other muscles. "Really, y/n?" "What?" You protest all the while 'casually' exposing the panties Donghyuck couldn't stop thinking about for the past forty minutes. His throat runs dry at heavenly sight, but he doesn't break. "I'm not going to fuck you just because you couldn't score some dick last night." He states, biting the inside of cheek. You huff, annoyed at him wanting to play hard to get at a time like this. You let your left leg hang off the couch, just to give Donghyuck a better look. "Then you're just going to watch." You affirm before letting your hand trail along your thigh as you reach your wetness. You had been ‘in the mood’ for quite some time, if one counts last night’s complete failure, and you noticed just how wet you were already just by touching the outside of your underwear. Donghyuck holds his breathe while his eyes scan every single movement of your fingers. You chuckle way too innocently when he coughs in the back of his throat. You never take your eyes off him as you work your way towards pleasure. You've done this so many times, it's like applying an obvious mathematical formula to you. But having someone watch you do something reserved to the intimacy of your bedroom is new kind of thrill. It feels especially thrilling with Donghyuck gawking at your skilled fingers caressing your folds with the perfect amount of pressure. You feel your breathe shortening, throwing your head back on the cushions. You pull your panties to the side and Donghyuck suppresses a low moan when you eagerly put a finger in, chasing after your high like a wild animal. He waits a few moments to enjoy the view of you pumping in and out of your heat, juices making lewd sounds that fill up his ears. "You dirty girl." Donghyuck whispers before dragging your hand away from yourself to which you whine loudly. "You want someone to tame you, uh?" Donghyuck mutters before putting your fingers in his mouth, savouring your taste. You can't help but moan at the contact, feeling sensitive in every inch of your body. "Think you can?" You blurt out and within seconds your friend has you pinned on couch. You sigh loudly when he swiftly resumes the work you had left unfinished, all the while securing your hands above your head. Donghyuck doesn’t need to ask how his fingers feel inside of you, he can read in your more than satisfied expression, he can hear it in your ever so delighted moans that come straight out of a porno. “Fuck, I should bother you more often.” you whimper in between chuckles and whimpers, struggling to keep your legs apart, overwhelmed by bliss. “I think you do that way too much already, doll.” Donghyuck remarks before aiming for your neck to place sinful kisses. His fingers work skilfully to find out when to slow down and when to speed up, you grab his bicep encouraging him whenever he hits the right spot. You start wondering why you haven’t done this earlier. Your mind is too cloudy therefore you are taken by surprise when you perceive Donghyuck sucking slightly into your cheek. You hold your breathe, surprised at your own enjoyment and you both smile at each other. You are quick to connect your lips to his, brushing your tongue against his as soon as you get the chance. “Greedy, aren’t we?” Donghyuck groans, amused and aroused at the sight of your neediness. You just hum in response, palming his member over his gym shorts. “I need it.” you plead, showing him your best puppy eyes. “I know you do, baby.” he smirks as he says this, taking his fingers out of you, completely soaked in your juices. “Look at this. Look at how needy you are.” you nod desperately at his statement and Donghyuck is beyond pleased. You, caged under him, not being able to put into words how badly you wanted to get fucked. A sight to see indeed. “How do you want it?” he asks, helping you out of your dress and underwear and removing his t-shirt afterwards. You open your legs once again, not needing an explicit answer. Donghyuck clicks his tongue in disappointment, showing off an indecent smile. “I thought you were against missionary.” he reminds you, but you are fast to bring your hands to his, pulling him over you. “I never said I was against it.” you whisper, at this point consumed in your lust. Donghyuck takes his time to caress your hair, your cheek, until his fingers ghost over your hardened nipples and over your stomach. You take in the sudden affectionate gesture, then you feel his weight over you shift and you see him rummage inside your bag from the night before that had been forgotten on the coffee table. You’re not shocked when he pulls out a condom, given that you were the one who had put it there for ‘good luck’. “I guess we can finally put this to good use. Don’t we, babe?" You hum happily, savouring his assertive yet considered tone. You sit up on your elbows admiring every second of him putting it on. “Now, where were we?” “Need a reminder?” You suggest getting closer, ghosting his lovely lips with yours. He smirks amusedly before pinning you down once again. “Ready, baby girl?” the pet names were driving you crazy in a way you had never experienced before and Donghyuck had been taking note of that every time you moaned at the sound of those words. “Interesting, knowing you I thought you might’ve like being called a whore or something.” he mocks you, aligning himself at your entrance without giving you full satisfaction. “How do you want to call me?” you moan softly in response, revealing to him your most docile nature that surely you hadn’t let a lot of people witness, let alone lovers. And you knew that he was enjoying every second of it. “Let me think... I quite like babe.” he utters as he delivers a first thrust. You throw you head back, feeling more than joyful in receiving what you had been craving. “Baby girl is nice too.” A second hip movement, this time painfully slower, in between frustration and gratification. The slower he goes the more you can feel just how much he fills you up perfectly. “I think I’m gonna go with baby girl.” you cry desperately at the third thrust, both at the pleasure and the words he whispers in your ear. “Yes, yes, call me like that.” you almost scream when he finally speeds up the rhythm. Lewd sounds of skin against skin fill up the living room, now you understand why they call it afternoon delight. “You feel so good around me, baby girl.” You smile at his statement, squeezing around him purposely, to which Donghyuck grunts happily. “Let me take care of you.” he then positions your arms around his shoulders, setting his head in the crook of your neck, delivering even deeper thrusts that make your eyes roll in the back of your head. You can’t help but turn into a moaning mess, unable to answer when he asks you how good he’s making you feel. He chuckles at the gibberish that comes out of your mouth followed by a long and strained sigh that is music to Donghyuck’s ears. “This is what you wanted, didn’t you? Getting fucked until you can’t function?” he groans before giving a sloppy kiss that can only muffle your now uncontainable whine. “Hyuck-ah.” His name is all that you can mutter as he pushes himself into you quicker and quicker. Donghyck knows that he can’t hold on any longer, not after hearing his name flowing out of your lips. “God, I want you to fuck me all the time.” you blurt out. It’s no use say that your brain can’t filter your words anymore. “All the time? Oh, don’t tempt me, y/n. I could fuck you on this couch for hours, until you can’t take it anymore.” Your mind runs wild, imagining getting stuffed with Donghyuck’s cock for hours on end, in every corner of the house. You haven’t finished yet and you’re already lusting for more. Electricity sparks throughout your body when Donghyuck balances himself on your knees, spreading your legs even further apart. “C’mon, baby. Come all over my cock, you’ve waited long enough.” He’s not wrong. Those words are enough for you to crumble under him, perceiving the familiar grip in your stomach you had longed for far too long. “That’s it baby, let go.” you can’t help but do as he says and when your high finally hits you the ungodly sounds you release are out of this world. When you finally open your eyes, you see Donghyuck still painfully hard inside of you, the pulsation almost hurting you. “Cum on me, Hyuck.” you whimper, wishing for him to feel just as good. He is more than happy to do so as he removes himself from you, discarding the condom and grabbing his member right above the space between your breasts and your stomach. “Fuck, y/n.” “Let me do it.” He lets you do as you please, letting you milk his cock with so much fervour, moaning with him, encouraging him just like he has done with you. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot his cum all over your breasts, you hum at the feeling of the warm liquid. Donghyuck takes his time to admire the sinful vision right below him. “We... are gonna need to do that again.” “Touché.”

#nct au #haechan scenarios #haechan drabbles #haechan fic #haechan smut #haechan imagines #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan au

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person...

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day…

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be.

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #ow ow ow ow ow #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #crap I have to reread this...#in for pain #sorry levi #went a little hard on you there

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.3; Lantern Rite Part 2

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day ;)

........

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave... Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table. "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," Zhongli straightened. "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all. If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive. Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby. "Tch. How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again. "I would only be prolonging her untimely demise. If we stay together, if she stays by my side, my sins will affect her with or without the bond."

"That is correct."

The archon was never one to sugarcoat things. "It would be selfish of me to admit to those emotions, selfish to indulge in them--she would die at my hand."

"Yes."

"Then why should I seal the bond, if us getting closer seals her fate?" The yaksha's voice nearly cracked, but he hid it well with his piercing gaze as he questioned his master. "Why?"

"How long do you plan on protecting Liyue?"

The random question made the yaksha falter. "For as long as our contract endures." What a silly question--it wasn't even for debate. It was his duty to protect Liyue, to absolve his sins and pay thanks to the archon that redeemed him. Why would Zhongli bring it up now?

"How much longer can you protect those who reside in Liyue? How long until the cracks begin to form within you, too?"

'Just as my fallen friends...' Xiao searched his master's eyes for a moment before parting his lips. "I--"

"I do not know the end of your story, Xiao, but I brought your unruly fate upon you. When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone."

.........................

Zhongli watched the three of you push your way through the crowd to greet him, his eyes narrowing at you in particular. "I see you have found your other teammates," he nodded approvingly.

"Yeah." You hadn't stopped scanning the crowd, and didn't so much as look his way despite being prodded by Aether.

"Something's wrong with her," the boy warned Zhongli. "She's not--"

"Do not concern yourself, traveler. She will be just fine."

"Huh?" Paimon grumbled. "What do you mean by that? Have you no concern for her?"

"We've convened earlier today. I will inform you, but first..." His eyes slid back to you, and he raised his voice to catch your attention. "You wish to see him?"

"Hm? U-um, yes..." His piercing gaze saw right through you, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. "What?"

"I'd advise you to leave the harbor," he nodded to the mountainside that was on the other side of the city gates. You nodded a quick thanks before running away at full speed.

I'm here, Xiao. But the yaksha didn't need to hear your impolite prayers to know that you were, when he could hear the distinct conversations of the people you ran past even though he was literal miles away from the harbor.

..............

You felt him before you saw him. Sitting on the rocky hill that overlooked the guarded entrance of Liyue Harbor, you peered over your shoulder to find the one person you had longed to see all day. The yaksha stopped in his tracks when you met his eyes.

"What...are you doing here?" It was like he was uncertain if he was hallucinating, eyes narrowing cynically as you stood to greet him. It was clear that he was weary from his day-long battle, but any pure exhaustion was hidden behind his tough façade.

"Childe brought me back for the Lantern Rite," you caught him snarling when you said the harbinger's name. "I--"

Your vision was suddenly obscured by his face once he appeared before you at the speed of light. His hand gingerly traced your cheek, a rare gentleness, a fondness seeping through his cynical eyes. You hadn't realized how much you had been craving his touch; your hand kept him from removing his from your cheek. How long had it been? Two weeks? It had to have been three by now, but it felt like an eternity from how much you had to deal with Childe or watch people die.

Real, Xiao's lips twitched into an unnoticeable smile, but the light in his eyes was bright as day. The two of you stood with foreheads pressed together for who knows how long until the yaksha was the one to pull away and regain his neutral composure. His eyes floated to that of the dark ocean before landing on the small lantern that sat next to your viewing rock.

"They'll be releasing them soon," you say, noticing his gaze. "I meant to make two, but it turns out its REALLY hard to make them..."

"Mm." He acknowledged you before sitting on the left side of the rock, silently prompting you to join him.

You did. "H-hey, is that blood?" You finally noticed the smear on his right cheek, worry entering your voice. "Are you okay? Here, let me see--"

"It's not mine." Xiao leaned away from your hand and wiped the smudge away himself.

Back to pushing me away, you faltered back, wavering eyes refocusing their attention on the black horizon to distract yourself from the hurt that panged in your chest. You sat on your hands as if to close yourself off from him--to restrain yourself from invading his personal space.

I did it again. Xiao inwardly cursed himself out for causing the sad look in your eyes. It's not like he meant to. He's too used to shutting people out for their safety; he's too accustomed to being alone. Xiao watched you out of the corner of his eye before finally gathering the courage to speak. She needs to know.

"I need you to understand," he started, sending you a brief glance before facing the ocean again. "Yakshas accumulate karma from the eons of slaughter we're tasked with. It eats away at our souls, corrupts us, or drives us mad. We become the monsters we're meant to destroy. Outsiders, companions, anyone who gets too close, will share and suffer that karma. It is why I order you and Aether to leave, and it is why I keep everyone at a distance."

You watched him continue to carefully sort his thoughts out. He's never talked so much without your prompting.

"None of us have had, nor will have, a happy ending. This is our fate. And it will be your fate too, if you continue to stay at my side. The karma I've accumulated will only grow in future years, and you won't be a stranger to it."

Your shoulders dropped. Is he...Is he going to leave me completely? Is he going to push me away for good?

Xiao heard your worries, and he briefly met your eyes again. "Could you still love a yaksha, while knowing this information? While knowing your fate will be sealed, and you won't find peace?"

"Of course."

"This isn't a light decision," Xiao admonished and rotated his body slightly to face you. "You cannot--" Do humans not understand danger?

"Xiao." The determination in your eyes made his next words stick to his throat. "I've already thought about it long and hard. I've seen your past. I've felt some of your pain. Even if this bond thing doesn't 'seal'--whatever that means--even if I am stuck with hearing those awful voices for the rest of my life, I will never be able to stop my feelings for you. Even if you don't return my feelings. I've come to accept all of it."

Could Xiao bring himself to admit his feelings if there was a high chance that fate would set its cruel sights on you? You could say all this now, but you've only felt the karma for a month. What happens in a year from now? A decade? A century? Your life wouldn't be as short as a humans because of his blood...Could he find it in him to confess if you were driven mad and he, ridden with guilt from causing your downfall? Sealing the bond wouldn't guarantee that the voices would leave you, and it definitely wouldn't make you immune to his karma. Xiao had thought he had decided on confessing, but now that he saw that raw, naïve determination in your gaze, maybe it was better that he kept it to himself for your safety--

"Do you trust me, Xiao?" His attention snapped back to you. "You felt my love for you in Zapolyarny Palace, didn't you? If you did, then you know my feelings are genuine..."

That's right...your feelings were so warm back then, and the way you had hugged him close...He felt his own version when he had heard your moonsong. 'How long can you continue protecting Liyue? When the time comes for you to face the same darkness that's consumed you, you cannot face it alone. Zhongli was righ--Archons, forget it. You had never lied to him, and he doubted you'd ever plan on doing so in the future. You were still just as stubborn as all those years ago on your deathbed of bloody soil; that aspect of you never changed. And if you were this stubborn, it wouldn't make sense for him to label your decision as a half-hearted, half-thought out answer.

Xiao examined you carefully for a silent minute, not quite listening to the words that flew out of your mouth. He didn't know how much longer he could stand tall against the swarms of darkness that swirled in his heart; he liked to think he could do so for another millennia, but that could change with one wrong move, one wrong thought, or one misplacement in willpower. But maybe as Zhongli said, he could find a new purpose, a new ray of light that could help him continue his duty if the day for evil to overwhelm him ever comes.

The yaksha couldn't quite find a place in the mortal realm, but he was curious on how it worked, how the humans were, what kind of customs they created. His karma made it impossible to quell that curiosity, and equally as dangerous for mortals. But he met you, that four year old girl that didn't do anything but provoke his curiosity and longing for kinship further. And then he really got to know you, all those months ago--what made you tick much like the other humans, the way you smiled, how you had the same sense of humor as him, the aggressive and the kind sides of your personality that clashed together to form this perfect, messy example of how humans worked.

Maybe he found out where to start when it came to you mortals, and that starting line was with you. You shone at the end of the tunnel, a beacon for safety and dare he call a symbol of peace that he could come home to. Xiao's eyes never left you as you continued to ramble on.

"--Then, I suppose, I could love you." The yaksha muttered the words like they tasted sour, but his eyes were soft when they landed on you.

"I--You--Huh?" You had thought he was trying to pull away from you for good, but this? He was confessing? Your oblivious mind wouldn't have guessed this would happen...So this is what Zhongli was inferring earlier!

"What?" Xiao narrowed his eyes and looked away as if he were embarrassed. "It's not that significant," he pouted. "Humans are flustered too easily by the smallest matters." Despite his crimson cheeks and beet-red ears, he found it difficult to fight back a smile when he saw the ridiculous look on your face.

"You..." Faint lights shone down on your little moment, and you glanced up to find that the lanterns were being released. "Wow, look!" You rose to your feet and stared at the distant lanterns before remembering that you had one of your own. Your gaze dropped to it, and an idea struck you. "Xiao...would you like to do this one together?" You picked it up and lit it with the match you had in your pocket.

"I still don't understand why humans discard their trash into the ocean," he muttered before standing as well. He watched the small flame burn brighter as it sat in your hands. "What's the point?"

"The lanterns represent our wishes and thanks to the adepti," you explained and gestured for him to take hold of the other side of the lantern. He reluctantly did so, but curiosity overcame him and he patiently listened to you with a slight childlike wonder in his eyes. "As for why we chose lanterns, I think it's just because they're pretty."

"Hmph."

"Do you have any wishes for the archons? We're supposed to write them on the lantern," you pulled a small pen out from your back pocket and uncapped it, offering the other end to him.

"Adepti don't go by your mortal ideals," he scoffed.

His clear distaste for your question drew a laugh from your lips. "I figured there was no harm in asking again! Okay. Even if you don't have a wish, let's release it, yeah? One, two, three..." The two of you gently pushed the lantern into the air, where it slowly made its journey to join the rest of its companions that now floated all around you.

"You didn't write your wish," he commented, his brows furrowing in confusion. How dare you ask him to write a wish, yet you did no such thing. The hypocrisy of humans!

"Why would I need to if it already came true?" You gave him a smirk before facing the sky. "They're so pretty," you marveled, nearly making yourself dizzy from staring straight up. "Don't you think so?"

"Mm." He agreed, but he was only looking at you. It took you a few minutes before you could gather the courage to return his gaze, feeling his stare while you watched the lanterns sparkle like the stars. Well, it was also when your neck got tired.

You returned your eyes to the yaksha only to find him staring hard at you with an unreadable expression. "W-what?"

"You're serious about me, even if it ends up killing you?" He still couldn't understand why...Wouldn't self-preservation be what everyone chooses when put in a perilous situation? Is this human stupidity, or is there some type of logic behind your trust that he failed to grasp?

You blinked, facing him fully. "One hundred percent." I don't need to think twice about my answer, but he's still concerned about me? "Xiao, do you trust me?"

He didn't answer and instead approached you after a few beats of silence until you almost breathed the same air. He was visibly struggling with something, but as for what, you had no idea. He allowed himself to slide a hand through your hair and play with the strands before it settled against the nape of your neck. He pulled you closer until his lips grazed across your eyelids. He ignored the shocked gasp that left your parted lips and let his brush across your other eyelid before they settled against the spot between your brows.

He then pulled away, his head resting against your forehead, and for a second you wondered if any of that was real until you managed to snap out of your daze. "D-did you just...? Xiao...?"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao fanfiction #valentines day #genshin impact xiao

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darthwheezely · 4 years ago

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i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

taglist or people that may like this! DM to be added or removed @cappsikle @lumosandnoxwriting @whizboingies @virgohufflepuff @officialwizardwheezes @amourtentiaa @softlyqoos @breadqueen95 @thehufflepuffwife @george-fabian-weasley @lupinsclassroom @haileymorelikestupid @sarcasticallywitty15 @band--psycho @gcdric @vogueweasley @harrysweasleys @slytherinsunrise @thisismynerdyself @loony-loopy-lupinn @writingsomewrongs @pineapplesandpinas @valwritesx @amxrtentias @theweasleyslut @oh-for-merlins-sake @alyssamalfoy @bisou-doux

“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

��Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader #bill weasley #charlie weasley #Ron weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Text

Neon Silhouettes

Hello! I’m very happy to finally post this because ive been working on this for a month! This is serving as an entry to @ackermans-freedom-inc discord challenge. Behold it’s long!

Word Count: 10.538k, i’m not even sorry

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Tags: a n g s t, vigilante!au

Warnings: blood, violence, major character death (? its open to interpretation)

In contrast to yours, Eren's breath is hot and tainted on the nape of your neck when you push him away from your form in an attempt to get more oxygen running through your system. The hazy high of your orgasm is mighty, similar to a fairytale like dream and makes all air around you run thin with each passing second. You're not sure if you're paying much attention to it, though, because your breath seems to be completely restored before you even think about catching up with it.

Eren makes a loud thud as he plops himself into the matress with his utmost enthusiastic moves. You can tell by his reactions that he enjoyed this intercourse even more than he'll ever admit -not that he's shy to ever do so- and that he seeks a way to relax himself from his own high. For that very reason, his hands are rather quick to pull you on his panting chest, just to provide some comfort for himself but in the process your silent plea to get a breather is long forgotten. You feel you head being smashed onto his smooth skin and you relax under the touch, thinking that you could cease this moment to fall into serenity as well.

With your heart still beating through your ribs though, you contemplate on whether or not falling into serenity now is a logical idea at all. Anxiety has planned seeds in your stomach ever since a few hours prior to your solo patrol in this area of Trost, merely at the thought of bumping into Eren. You had been practicing the words your comrades had assigned you to consider one too many times, and yet, the moment you laid eyes on Eren's helmet covered face your nervousness had worked wonders on turning them into thin air. It had happened so fast that you wondered if this was an actual new power you could posses.

Nevertheless, the anxiety is back now and it's growing its bindweeds in the pits of your stomach. A chapped piece of your lip is stuck under your front teeth, ready to be ripped off as your fingers are mimicking a walk, up and down on Eren's chest. You're not sure if you can talk and consequentially, the thin piece of flesh is ripped away from your lips forcefully, allowing the thin, iron like taste of blood to conquer your senses.

And in the moment it's all you can focus on.

It's always like this when it comes to Eren and yours passionate rendezvous; your mind is drenched of any thought other than him, your heart ceases to pulse inside your body and your legs feel like the most trashy, inexpensive jello -yes the one you ought to find at random 7/11s in the middle of nowhere after a long night of patrol when you're so hungry that your stomach feels likes its going to burst throughout your mouth canal. And yes, you've tried to restrain yourself from feeling this way, but it's not easy, especially when Eren's hand comes to tangle its way through your hair, scratching softly at your roots.

Clicking your tongue in your mouth though, you can't help but let your mind wander just for you to realise it's been so long since you've had said trashy jello dessert. It's not like you exactly miss it -no, you wouldn't say you did, its taste was atrocious- but it's nostalgic to think about your debut days as a younger superhero. Especially when you think about that it was due to that that you met Eren.

The thought that feasts on your brain though is nothing more than a projection of everyone's nostalgia of Eren, not only yours. The only reason he's laying underneath you with his right hand bent under his head and catching his heavy breaths as his chest basically pulsates and squirms under your form is because you've chosen to dance in that dark sewer of a world that is the reality of anti heros. Everyone who knows about you and Eren -mostly Levi and Mikasa- have pushed you over the edge of trying to shake him off of his criminal killing rampage, but you know him better than anyone. Thus, in reality, you don't know about whether you should utter that little speech that's at the tip of your tongue.

You nervously chew onto that tiny piece of flesh you've ripped from your lip for over a minute before you dare to try and think about what to do with it. Swallowing seems like a good option, the thought of spitting it like a bitten off nail unsettles you to a certain extent, plus you're not sure if bitten flesh activates Eren's titan senses. You never truly know what triggers people with titan powers and you're not about to risk it. Ironically, that's exactly how you're feeling when it comes to your thoughts but after you feel the teeny bundle of flesh go down your throat your mouth washes the taste of iron away and parts to your brain's command.

"Eren?" You breath out, your eyes despairately trying to fixate on anything other than his form.

Eren's finger is harsh and calloused to the touch as it mellowy grazes the soft skin on the underside of your wrist. Your eyes are finally fixed to the circling movements and though you want to give in the the long for sleep your eyelids suddenly ache for, your mind, much allured by how serene everything feels, pushes you to protest against it. There's nothing you can do about your fast mouth though; resenting it hasn't ever seemed like the way to go through with it.

"Yeah, baby?" Eren half moans to your direction.

You notice how he shifts his form comfortably from underneath you, obviously in search of the perfect sleeping position. Naturally this should have kept you back from speaking further; well this and the fact that he isn't exactly expecting what you're about to say, but nonetheless you swallow hard and bite on the inside of your cheek before you open your mouth to speak once again.

"Can we talk about it, lovey?" You hesitate with the nickname, yet when you utter it you know you dont regret its sappy nature.

"About it?"

"You know," you trail off "About the Titans case."

"What is there to talk about? We'll sort the case out one and for all, we've agreed on it."

Well of course, for both you and Eren, and probably every other person in this world, this case is something that should permanently close. It only seems fair, all those years that you've spent being hunted by those monsters are starting to put an overwhelming amount of weight into modern superheros and anti-heros alike. Everyone basically had the same goal concerning this case, yet people are still split as to how it should be closed.

Eren says it's fitting for The Titans to pay for their sins with more blood than they have managed to spill; they're a top crime syndicate that focuses on abducting humans and mutating them into bloodlusting monsters, just for the purposes of creating their own sick and twisted army of mindless pawns. Eren, having fallen an indirect victim of their brutality stands by his beliefs and won't let a titan standing on their feet when he encounters one.

But he wasn't always like this. Not exactly

Back in the day when he worked as Levi's sidekick, he wouldn't brutalize them to the point where they'd bleed to death, but he would make sure they weren't going ever be healed again, not even if they were ever given an antidote. His falling out with Levi and your team of superheroes though, followed by the brutal murder of his mother had withered Eren's psyche with tormentous force.

You furrow your brows as your mind travels back to those dark memories, dipping into necessary pieces of information that need to be composed in some way for you to reply to him. Ironically, it was when Eren turned his back on your team that you found some major leads as to who run the Titans and possibly even why.

"We'll sort the case," you say "but I don't think you should be murdering them."

Eren takes the hand that acts as a comforter over your harshly and pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales in disapproval. You know, his face must be scrunched in misery right now, brows puckered over his nose and eyes firmly closed shut. You can listen to his heart and in turn you feel the buzzing his pulse makes as it speeds up a tad.

"We've talked about this. You do you. And I do me."

For a moment you contemplate on whether you want to use your psychic superpowers on him. To think that you can change his mindset is an enchanting thought; in fact right now, it's so alluring that you feel the familiar awakening of your powers rush through your veins. It feels like cotton candy colored poison -that's probably the best way you can describe it according to other psychic's. Your powers, as naive and endearing they may seem can easily flip the cards on you at any given moment of weakness; it's like your natural instincts awaken with a mind of their own to protect and help their host. But it's merely unethical and dictating to force such change on your beloved as much as it is to do so on the next person.

Your mouth puckers to the right as you let your brain roam over every single possible outcome that this conversation can have, yet you never even flinch on Eren's chest, sternly refusing to let your body react to his words. One wrong reaction and Eren's hotheadedness will bite you in the ass.

"Dont be like that, (y/n)." Eren says

You have to admit he's catching you off guard when his hand comes to move your chin to point at his direction. It's his checkmate move and he knows it, blinking his real eyes into yours, he frees his brows from their gathering, leaving small red lines as reminders of his temper behind. You on the other hand, with your short hitched breaths and that constipated look on your face though you can't help but predict his next sarcastic plea.

"Don't look at me like that."

You cough that little angry, hot huff of air that's trapped inside your lungs for oh so long before you plough your elbows under your face to support your form in order to face him. You never detach yourself from him and you don't plan on doing so, this is probably the only way to make him feel that you take into consideration all his boiling bad blood.

"You know damn well why I'm looking at you like that."

"I do." He shrugs casually and then proceeds to shut his eyes in despair "but you're not here to question my means." Eren sighs in defeat as the words come out of him and proceeds to wrap his arm around you again.

However you pucker your eyebrows further, bringing them impossibly closer to your eyes as you boil the words you seek to speak in the back of your throat "I'm not questioning them. I'm resenting them. I'm not even playing the goody superhero on you, but really why are you doing this?"

You never fail to notice how Eren bites the inside of his cheek or how he clenches his grip on you almost like a silent warning at to what territory you're opting to walk into, but you ignore it, sighing all the way through your mouth hoping that the little oxygen you can fill your lungs with is enough to get you through this.

"Everyone misses you. Don't you care about that?"

Does he? Eren wants to believe that whatever he's doing he's doing it because all of you are excessively significant to him. I all honesty he is fuming over the fact that you don't see how this is the only inevitable option. He hates for his alter ego to be called a mass murderer in the news every other day just as much as he hates the fact that people choose to see a redeemable side to human flesh eating mutants.

"If I don't do what I do, history is going to repeat it self." He spits, harshly enough that he's sure you won't reply just yet. "You and this pretentious superhero facade are not going to be here to live it down with me though."

He watches as your face contorts in surprise as his words fall, your mouth snapping open in order to utter your quick fetched reply but he cuts you off with an even harsher tone this time.

"I'm clearing the world from all this alright? There are many people that do so as well-"

"Who? Flotch and Yelena?" You cut him off, but still he brushes it off.

With a shift in your movements you're on your back, your arms moving mechanically to grab onto the covers to bring them onto your bare chest. Eren can read the action all too well and he hates it, he hates it enough that he runs his hands painfully through his hair, despairate to get them away from the burning skin on his neck. Anxiety has worked wonders on his body, he figures.

"You, Levi, Mikasa, Jean, Connie! Want me to throw more names in your face? Me and my team finish off what you guys chicken out to do." Eren's voice is calm yet his tone is drenched in poison, that mellow sound he makes when he re opens his mouth is what's pushing you over the edge, making your blood boil inside your body. It causes you to wrap your fingers tightly onto the blanket that covers your chest, your fists turning white as you clench on it with full force. As if it can help you concentrate all of your anger on the spot.

Naturally, it can't.

"We're not chickening out Eren, we focus on containing all evil, not annihilating it. To think you can do that-"

"I can-" Eren cuts you off, though you won't let him continue until you get your point across.

"You must be really dumb to carry that mindset. What happens after you annihilate the titans, will you do the same for any other similar crime syndicate? Or are your motives personal only when it comes to this one?"

Eren bites on the sides of his tongue with a piercing force and swallows hard on the bitterweet spit that forms due to the action. He forcefully tosses his head to both left and right to shake away any unwanted thought out of his mind but it hurriedly proves to be fruitless. As much as he has liked to think that you can get past that fight on your morals one day, it's obvious to him that it's a fundamental dynamic between the two of you. It's a concrete wall that's none of you can or are willing to try to go through. And he doesn't like that, not one bit.

"Don't try to boss me into your beliefs." His eyes widen as he speaks, voice tainted in a growling anger that he can feel cooking inside his chest.

"I'm not bossing you Eren, stop acting like this."

"Why are you so fucking hang up on this now out of all times?" He spits more so that questions.

"We're so close to catching Zeke and your team is close to doing so as well, I'm just worried." You admit, shyly loosening the clenched cover from your fist in fear of ripping it. "I want us to be a normal couple after this. I care about you."

Your mind is fogged with animalistic rage, yet you still manage to swallow it down, past that lump in the back of your throat that tik dangerously on your clock and threatens to burst. It's only when you try to show the nature of your thoughts and intentions that you watch Eren's face finally contort in rage that's much similar to yours. You fall back for a brief moment, allowing him to take advantage of the silence in the room to answer back to you.

"When I catch Zeke I'm not sparing him."

Eren lets the breath that's trapped in the depths of his chest out before it manages to suffocate him. Thinking about Zeke and how he's standing opposite to him makes him feel sick to the stomach, but he has accepted that it's only just his luck that his half brother happens to be working for the titans. Accepting that Zeke wants to collect all nine original titans for the syndicate to use as they wish has been a hard task to do so, he can admit to that much but he's swore to never let his connection to the man hold him back from putting an end to this misery.

"Eren don't be so stubborn." You plea, brows impossibly covering your eyes as your voice reeks of rage.

"I'm not, quit playing the rightful hero and maybe we can have this conversation when you'll be able to see things from my side."

He can see that you're drowning in your own words, fighting to find the right syllabuses to utter, but he refuses to give you any time, his own rage is ticking like a bomb, he can feel his stomach growling in the familiar numbness anger casts upon his organs and he knows he can't hold back.

"Do what you gotta do, but I'm ending them, I'll fight your team too if I have to get to what needs to be done."

"Oh yeah?" You let out an amused, angry chuckle before continuing "You'll fight me?"

"Gladly!" Eren spits, his eyes wide as his eyebrows twitch in determination.

"Don't say things you can't take back. Don't be an asshole."

"Last time I checked the definition of an asshole was someone who won't support their partner in their decisions, whether they agree with them or not."

You glance towards Eren's drawer, fuming to the point you struggle to control your powers. Your breath is refusing to regulate even if you beg for it to work the way you want it to, causing you to try and think of the most possibly rational plan to get your self out of this situation. You can't stand looking at Eren for the time being, any glance at his side is making you fume to the point your insides coil making you think you're going to start emitting smoke.

"Fuck! Fuck! You won't even try to understand me, I don't even know what I'm doing with you."

You have a small drawer filled with your clothes at Eren's place and he has one in yours. Convently, you've persuaded him to keep a superpower restraining collar in case either of you ever go out of control, which seems to be the case for you now. Eren's last words are poisoning you, burning their way inside your veins. Thus reaching the collar becomes your ultimate goal in the moment; you resent the extend in which your own powers can reach and you refuse to cause more drama by hurting Eren without intending to.

Your ears fall deaf to what Eren is fuming about, its necessary to try and keep ignoring him if you want to focus on completing this simple task. Your head is spinning, lost in the dark colored vertigo you've entered in your effort to focus on your goal. Pushing past it is vital in any case you want to prevent anything from happening. With the sudden swing of your wrist the drawer bursts open with force, the small amount of clothes inside are shot to the ceiling.

The metallic collar shines under the light as it stands proudly in the air as clothes continue to practically spill to any direction. Your stretched fingers make a half turn, as if signing the way to you to the object, your thumb shoting as far back as it can physically can go while your pinky stands inches away from the edge of your palm and your wrist. Your heart is hammering inside your chest for the remaining seconds it takes for the object to come to you and though, even if it's coming to you at full force and speed any passing moment feels like an eon.

You almost manage to sigh in relief as the metal touches tour throat but the action is cut short the moment your breath suddenly hitches reflexively. The collar fails to wrap around your throat and click in place, rather than that its resting in Eren's palm. The veins in his arm are twitching much expectly; he's using all of his force to hold the collar back, fighting your control over the object with his inhuman strength, still you won't let go of your hold either, not caring as to what is going to happen to the object, it won't last for long with all this strength force upon it, you're sure of that.

"If you want to me to respect you enough to fight with you, you won't enslave yourself with none of these fucking shits. Handle your powers on your own."

Your eyes are twitching, your forehead finally giving in to an endless amount of sweaty droplets. There's a throb mirrored by your pulse in the edge of your neck and you throw your head back in defeat before you even manage to think about it. The collar crumbles and smashes in Eren's palm under his grip, the metal cracking slightly as his skin twitches and burns in protest.

"I want us to be free of this, you think if get my hands dirty if it wasn't supposed to end in a way that I expected and calculated meticulously?"

Despite the fact that Eren is spitting those facts, you manage to distinguish the true intention of his choice of words, pushing past his harsh tone. It's unfair that you chose to anger him to such extend, you're angry as well but you come to realise that it's only because you are both afraid. Eren is afraid if losing you and his friends to the hands of another titan and you're afraid to lose Eren in the hands of his bloodlust. The collision between good or bad is only what you try to mask your fears with; what you see as bad and evil, Eren does so as well. Your perspective only changes as to how you view the means to reach the rightful good.

War can't exist without peace and peace can't exist without war.

You think back to what you told him earlier and in a snap you realise that for the time being, that's just about as normal as the two of you can get. An anti hero with his hands clenching a crushed power restraining collar, because he detests anything that strips people off their freedom and their given right to it, and a concerned superhero with her head thrown back in deafeat, giving up on trying to get a so called noble point across. In a way, both you and Eren have chosen this when you decided to take a shared path despite the fundamental differences on your beliefs.

And for a moment you think you're going to get past it. All couple have fights, all couples gets enraged with each other at least once in their span of time but they always manage to bounce back and stand on their feet next to each other. You're not exactly sure if Eren is standing right next to you or if he's opposed to you both literally and mentally but you relax back in the comforter thinking that you'll get an answer in a moment.

Eren's breaths are finally starting to regulate and he can't help but take notice of you slipping inside the comforter, your head hitting the pillow with a muffled thud. His long bangs are sprawled over his face, some fine chocolate hairs tingling the sensitive skin on his nose, some of their edges tickling at his fleshy lips. His mind is blurry, so blurry that he refuses to acknowledge the hand that is still clinging onto the collar, his posture is finally fixed on the bed before he decides to slide down in a movement so that he can lay right next to you.

"I'm sorry." He speaks first, his left hand forming into a fist as it lands on his forehead, pressing with its back on the throbbing veins and nerves that beg to release some of the tention they have gathered.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, it's my fault."

"Seems like we can't meet halfway when it comes to this." He hazes.

“No”

Sighing, you sink further into the matress, raising your hand to mimic Eren’s actions to cover your face with the back of your hand. You chirp a little sound of misery as you do so, finding hard to swallow down through the knot that has formed in your throat.

"Is this it?" You ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper "Is this how it's going to be for us?"

"If you think I'm going to give up on my beliefs for you then I have some bad news."

Eren turns his head to you, sternly fixing his teal eyes in yours while his jaw is clenching, his bottom lip trembling and worrying as he chews on his words. A hitched sigh exits your nose as your eyes start burning I'm their attempt to hold back tears, the corners of your lips curving downwards causing your button lip to pucker sourly. You keep on staring at Eren and he keeps staring back at you, both of your chests heaving with short chopped breaths. You don't dare touch each other, not right now when you can't hold back your emotions, but you can definitely see how hurt he looks just as much as he can do the same for you.

"Well I can't turn my back on mine either." You choke, not daring to part your mouth enough for the words to exit correctly.

"Maybe you should just-" Eren opens his mouth, twitching out the words before he manages to mumble them "go."

The tears that threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes are finally flowing, running in burning hot streaks past your nose before landing cold onto your ear. You hate it, you hate the moist sensation on your cornch and you hate that Eren's eyes never fail to notice every single tiny droplet that fall from your lips.

His constipated expression won't scatter away from his face, rather than that it only hardens as he tried to hold back and onto those tiny pools in the corners of is eyes.

He wants to speak, you know because he keeps opening his mouth to do so, but the only sounds he emits are deep growls of pain. He doesn't know how to feel about them, you've seen him cry numerous times, yet this heartbreak seems so inevitably painful to endure on his own. It's another love he has to bid goodbye because of those godamn titans and it's even more painful that he knows that by annihilating them, he'll never be able to claim you as his anymore.

He'd rather clear the world for you to live peaceful and free though.

...

The sound of your fists colliding with the back leather of a boxing sack fills the air, bouncing in between the gray marble colored walls of the headquarters. The room you're in is soundproof, causing the sound to linger in the air as you pant, holding your sour spit in your mouth as you throw another punch and kick to the sack. Sweat drips from your forehead and onto the mat beneath you yet you make no movement in trying to wipe it off, you simply let it drip while picking up your foot in order to flip it onto the dummy.

"Easy there now"

When Jean's hand comes to rest on your shoulder giving you a little comforting squeeze, you jump on your spot, startled much by the sudden action. For a moment you avoid turning your head to face him; despite the amount of mellow warmth and comfort his touch provides you with, you don't feel like you can regulate that rush of adrenaline that pumps through your veins.

Your fists, numb by the raw force you've used to launch punches to the boxing sack before you are now inevitably frozen, hugging the dummy with enough strength to make it fall in place. As the sound of the metallic chain clashing fills the air your nostrils snort hot huffs of air, your eyes squinting shut as your brows remain furrowed to forbid any drop of sweat from running down to your face. Jean inspects your constipated expression as he moves around, taking small steps as he approaches you from this new position, finally coming to face you with an understanding smile.

"I noticed you're pushing your self a lot lately." He says, his hand coming to squeeze on your shoulder once again. He presses his lips into a thin line, the action making his straight nose scrunch slightly.

"It's fine." You snark "I could use some excessive combat training to be honest. Mikasa said you and her can help someday."

"Okay then! Let's spare now." Jean says enthusiastically and his hands come to his sides, his fists clenched as a smug expression appears on his face "Ditch the dummy."

Nonetheless you snicker in response. Bringing your finger to your temple, you awkwardly scratch on the tender skin at the tail of your eyebrow. Next, your hands come to your loose ponytail, giving a little tag at the elastic loop that's used to hold them in place, pulling it down to the ends of your hair.

"Sorry, not in the mood." You bite, but Jean is irritatingly not ready to give up on you just yet.

"Weren't you just splitting your knuckles, punching that sack? Like, a few seconds ago? Drop the emo attitude and show me what you got."

Kissing your teeth you bow down, aiming to go for the towel you've neatly folded on your foamy work out mat, taking it carefully in your hands in order to bring it to your sweat dripping face. While crossing his hands to his chest, Jean throws you his signature expression of disapproval -yes, the one he liked to throw at Eren while calling him a suicidal bastard and yes, if Mikasa, not just anyone, asked him he'd admit to having missed the particular interaction with your now ex boyfriend. The male sighs, parting his mouth open, ready to utter what he thinks will help you.

"If it helps, I've been saying Eren is a dick from the very start, I'm sorry you had to be convinced of the fact in such way."

Its your turn to throw him a disapproving look now.

Jean, similarly to the next person, knows how much you hate talking about /that/ fateful night with Eren. The wound is still fresh -whether or not it took place a few weeks ago, the pain of being ripped away from your lover over your ideals isn't a wound that's easy to close and additionally it's rather hard when you know nothing can come of an attempt to reconcile. But Jean can't just silently stand to watch you destroy your self and your relationships with people who care about you.

Each passing day you trade your words for mumbles and grunts, your signs of affection into powerful punches aimed either at that old black dummy you were hugging a few seconds or at a vast amount of metas during nighttime patrols. Knowing you and how you handle such outrages, Jean is sure that at this point you've smashed your fists against each and every single one of these gray marble colored walls, only holding back your self as to not smash Armin's tech corner. But before he gets a chance to shake his head in the slightest only to get ready to mouth his comfort speech to you, the automatic glass doors to the room open.

Turning his head around, Jean is met with Connie and Armin as they enter the room, both of them sparing him their most confused look upon inspecting the scene unraveling before them. Jean shrugs his shoulders, throwing his hands up in defeat, his eyes traveling quickly between you and his friends, signaling them you're proving to be difficult to deal with once again.

As the door behind him closes with a woosh Connie sucks on the inside of his cheek, trapping the tender gum between his teeth, his lips puckering slightly as he looks at you, his otherwise playful eyes now squinted in worry.

"What?" You speak, pressing your lips together and pushing them to the side of your face. Reluctantly, you cock a brow to Connie's direction.

"Me?" With his thumb to exaggerate the word, Connie points to himself and the proceeds to take a few steps towards Jean. Finally, he bends his hand, resting his fist over his hip, throwing his weight onto one leg. "You're the one with the constipated expression."

"Give me a break everyone" you shrug, shaking your head in defeat.

"Sasha said you pushed yourself too far last night during patrol."

"Yeah, so what?" You ask, batting your eyes to the male trio. You're probably as unamused as they are at this point.

You notice how Armin is the one to let out a sigh next, his blonde hair swaying by the force of air that exits his mouth. He's angrily clapping his foot to the ground while clenching his fists to his sides, his baby blue eyes fixated on you. You bring the top of your finger to your head, scratching the skin just below your ear, your foot awkwardly rocking back and forth. It's almost as if no one in the room can avoid the the upcoming conversation right now.

All Armin sees is that your lip is split, bruised much like your eyebrow and a part of your jaw. There's a lot of dried blood on each tiny wound, but the amount is enough to make up for the lack of proper patching and the sight is heartbreaking to the point it makes the blond's blood boil. If Armin could find it in himself to utter a word he would be able to name a good amount of reasons as to why he was enraged with you. One of them being the fact that you've been brutalizing yourself in the streets every night and another one that you've been definitely pushing yourself even more during training, aiming to shut yourself off of your team completely.

"Armin, if you have something to say, then just shoot it."

The way you poke at him is reluctant and nervous in nature. Your jaws clutch together, your shivering teeth making tiny chattering sounds. Armin parts his lips, placing a hand on the gray colored wall behind him, hanging his head down in nervousness. In all reality, he shouldn’t speak his mind, he knows that very well, his personal empathetic feelings for Eren don’t exactly have a reason to have an impact in this situation. Furthermore he’s simply the intel guy, the only member of the team in the team that doesn’t participate in any heroic or vigilantic activity. To interfere with your nightime business would probably harm him more than anyone in the end. As your friend he had to take a stance on what you were going through.

“We’ve all been hurt by Eren.” That’s all that Armin manages to say before putting his feet to work, matching silently to his computer corner, “But, that’s why we are a team. We’re supposed to hold each other when things go wrong. And you need us as much as we need you.”

Rubbing your eyes with your pointer fingers, you let out a deep sigh. When you look up Connie and Jean are half smiling at you, their thumbs pointing upwards and for a fragment of a second, you manage to crack a small smile. You feel your eyes burning slightly, their fleshy corners stinging, but you refuse to let yoyr tears flow now, despite being moved by your friends’ word and noble intentions you keep your emotional breakdown to yourself. You only hope the males are convinced by your small smile.

“Armin has the intel on Zeke’s cargo shipment!” Connie says and immediately his ribs are crushed by Jean’s elbow. “What?”

“Stupiid. We’re not supposed to stress her!”

“It’s fine guys, this is our job.”

Connie links his arm with yours, your sweaty skin littering his long sleeve shirt but he pays the action absolutely no mind, not as much as you at least, and then he proceeds to stick his tongue out to Jean. Jean twitches his eyebrow at him, seemingly irritated by his friend’s smug expression and picks up his feet, marching as fast as you do, trying to catch up. The playful atmosphere is lifting you up, you can definately feel your previous mood lighten by each passing second.

“Speak Armin!” Connie playfully dictates squeishing your elbow in the process.

Armin lets out a laugh, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes glimmering under the bright blue light of the numerous screens.

“Fine, look,” he says clicking on a tab on the middle screen’s task manager The tab pops up, shining a bright white light thats making your eyes squint. Armin then clicks on some folders and signs at you to wait until the images load. When in turn they pop up, they reveal numerous hsots of the titans new hideaway. Some photos are showing Zeke and his gang standing before it, then entering it. You even catch a glimpse of Pieck, the flash of raven hair is much more evident now that shes standing between her blonde team members.

“Do we have the adress?” Jean asks and you can’t help but notice that the look in his eyes is darkening in an a mere instant.

“It’s in alleyway near the port. Although the front is standing proudly on a very well lit place in 6th Avenue.” You nod steadily, sliding your hand upwards to give a comforting touch to Connie’s fingers that are still linked to the inside of your elbow. “Levi gave me the intel to investigate, he came across them the other day and then he searched for security cameras, you know the drill.”

Jean raises his voice authoritatively and sternly as he points to some photos, informing Armin that he needs to investiagte the area around them and prompts you an Connie to do the same as well. He says that it’s necessary to know the area you’ll be oparating on in the following days. You simply nod, extending yor hand to Armin’s direction to point in which pictures you want him to send you and he does as you say not even giving it a second thought.

“Please don’t send them to Eren.”

You pretend to be shocked, but in reality you're not. You understand where Armin is coming from when he mouths the statement, but you assure him that you won't try to communicate with Eren for any reason. You're in no place to put yourself through such thing, not now, not until your job is done.

...

Pushing on his feet, Eren rushes all of his power to his heels, sending his self in the air. He takes a spin mid air, opening his arms wide on either of his sides after he grabs one the guns that rest on the cases that are tied to his breeches. He manages to grab a new line of bullets moments before he lands and he proceeds to shove it to the butt of the gun, the action sending the loud sound of metal colliding filling the air.

As expectedly, he lands on his feet. The annoying rush of his whole body weight on his heels doesn't bother him anymore, he's grown so used to it that it's become a routine. He throws a quickly glance behind him, making sure Flotch and Yelena are right behind him, running silently on their own pace, jumping from building to building.

"Yelena!" Eren shouts "I'm leaving Pieck and Porco to you. Go for the kill the moment you see an opening. And Flotch" he turns his head to the redhead, his voice reeked in authority even though it was muffled by his metallic helmet "Don't let any hero follow my tracks. No casualties. We're proving a point."

Flotch nods rapidly without uttering another word and spares a look to Yelena before they take turns to opposite directions. Eren continues to run straight ahead, his heavy combat boots clashing with various rooftops as he stomps on each one of them with force.

He immediately stops on his tracks as he catches a glimpse of blond hair in an alley. Peaking his head from the edge of a rooftop, he clicks on the side of his helmet, pushing the button that allowed the goggle feature in his helmet to activate.

Zooming in he sees you, your hands clad in an x above your head as you try to avoid the metallic rock like weapons Zeke is throwing at you with full force. Your left foot is thrown back, fully extended while your right leg is bent, your position providing stability as you try to push past and through Zeke's attack.

Through the distracting commotion, Zeke manages to get close enough to you and Eren watches as he lifts his left leg up, getting ready to clash it onto your head. Eren knows, Zeke's force can easily knock you out for several minutes; if he can break through walls with raw fists, Eren can't even phantom what the full capacity of his brute attack can do to your head.

Eren hisses to himself as he stands on his knees, clenching his fists to himself. Quickly enough the skin under his gloves hardens, forming an iron like material over his knuckles. He briefly makes sure they'd hard enough for the attack he has calculated in his mind by rubbing over his knuckles tenderly.

He inhales a good amount of air, his chest filling to the max as he tried on concentrating on his breathing. Regulating his heartbeat is important but he doesn't have enough time, Zeke is in the midst of throwing another wave of metallic rocks in your way. Suddenly Eren stands on his feet for a brief moment before proceeding to take a jump into the alleyway.

The next thing he knows is that his hardened fist lands exactly where he wanted to on Zeke's face, breaking his nose, the bone crashing and shattering making a horrid popping noise that echoes through the cobblestone walls.

His foot sets to find a way to your stomach, pushing a warning kick but with enough force to send you flying in the air, only for a short period of time though. Grunting, you land in a rooftop, clutching onto your pained stomach, coughing up a few breaths that were stuck in your chest upon impact.

Eren makes a fatal mistake; he turns his head to check up on you, momentarily letting down his guard as some form of guilt runs through him. The blond only manages to grasp onto that tiny fragment of his distraction.

Zeke is out of breath as he runs at his full capacity, counting down the seconds to make it to the end of the alley to escape Eren. Eren is fast, faster than the last time Zeke encountered him and slightly more buff, the blond can make out his muscles twitching in rage as he puts his weight onto the tips of his feet, running restlessly behind him. Eren grabs the spare gun that rests on his right thigh with one hand, the shiny spikes that decorate each side of the gun that could possibly land on him at any given moment dazzling him.

Deciding he can't avoid Eren for too long -hes practically right behind him at the very moment- Zeke turns on his feet and sets his right foot behind his left one, tightening his fists as he feels strength rush through his body.

Eren jumps onto him first delivering the first blow, careful not to take the fist that is aimed to him. He bucks down for a split second, avoiding Zeke's second blow and jumps, splitting his feet so that his left leg collides with Zeke's jaw. The blonde leaves a grunt of pain through his mouth, falling back in haze.

With a mid air spin, Eren lands a few meters away from Zeke. He wastes no time in allowing Zeke to catch his breath; he jumps, knee first to deliver a second kick, thought this time it fails to cause the damage he wants. Zeke catches him by the knee the moment he runs into him, gripping with animalistic force, managing to clash the iron kneecap Eren wears for protection.

Zeke lets out a scream as he lands his fist fiercely on Eren's helmet, successfully breaking a hole in it, the kevlar enhanced plastic helmet making a huge shattering sound, its pieces falling anywhere to the concrete ground bellow, some other smaller ones digging their way into Eren's skin.

The act enrages Eren; he backs away bringing his glived fist to wipe on what he figures is blood that's running from his lip. He watches as Zeke takes the chance to turn on his tracks to leave but he resents the act, he bucks slightly to his knees and proceeds to run full speed in his direction, his ultimate goal setting on tackling his brother.

"You're not getting away." Eren spits angrily.

"You've been practicing on your heroic puns haven't you little brother?" Zeke doesn't turn his head back to face Eren, the end of the alley is only a few meters away now, and he'd like to think that he can make it.

The elbow that crushes onto his face and send him in a momentary haze though does definitely belong to Eren. One because despite the vertigo that engulfs him, he can still hear Eren's iron clad footsteps and two because his body never hits the ground when the elbow detaches from his face.

"Where are you running off to Beast?"

Looking up with half lid eyes Zeke smiles a crooked line with his lips, nodding his head to greet you. You huff through your nose with determination, tightening the fist of your hand, causing Zeke to feel squished by the invisible grip you have on him. He squirms in place kicking his feet and expanding his palm.

"Are you here to save me from your lover boy?" Zeke bites at you loudly and your eyes quickly follow Eren's running form, noticing how his helmet is cracked open. Even if it angers you to see him, you try not to let it show right now. It would only take a tiny slips up for Zeke to manage and take the opportunity to outsmart you and challenge you into a physical battle.

"You're not getting away this time, nice try." You shout, freezing his feet with the slightest move of your hand.

Unexpectedly, Eren jumps, gripping Zeke's foot and hanging from it, tagging at the limb with all force. The eye that isn't masked by his helmet is definitely fixed onto you, worrying its glimmer into your soul. You despairately try to brush it off.

Shaking your head you look around to find anything in which you can move Zeke to help Eren land onto. The ground doesn't seem like a good option, Zeke is smart enough to know you can't last long if you have to let go of the mental grip you're forcing on him. You panic as you figure out that he soon will realise your grip on him is able to wobble enough for him to beat your control over him.

"Hand him over (y/n)." Eren screams in your direction, batting his eye to your direction.

You notice Zeke squirming into your grasp as horrified expression proceeds his face. His eyebrows point upwards causing strong rolls of skin to appear on his forehead, his lips curl down in worry and his eyes widen to their max.

"Can't do that!" You turn to Zeke, shooting him a reassuring look, letting him know you wouldn't allow his assassination before your very eyes.

You only understand how foolish you've been to do so when you watch Zeke take a deep breath. Initially you assume he wants to fill his lungs with oxygen due to your harsh grip and you slowly process in your mind the possibilities of what can happen if you chose to loosen your hold on him. It's only when Zeke lets out an eardrum piercing screech that you curse under your breath feeling your mental grip growing weak. Zeke throws you a sorry smile, startling you enough to take a wrong footing on the brick rooftop you're standing on.

You feel your powers flicker even more, to the point it reminds you of a dying flame but you refuse to believe you've reached the end of your potential use of your own meta ability. You pay no attention to Eren and his momentarily twitching as you try to focus on catching your breath. All it should take is a moment, all you need is a moment to calm down your pounding heart and then-

Bam! Bam! Bam!

You sense Zeke slipping away from you unexpectedly and your mouth falls agape, your hands rushing to your ears, despairate to offer protection and and comfort to the buzzing pain you're feeling. Glancing around you notice Eren swirling his gun in his thigh case, smoke emitting from the small opening of the gun, the smell of gunpowder tingling in your nostrils. Even if you're hazy you immediately understand what has happened; Eren's bullets, following Zeke's coordinate scream sent warning shots to his comrades, letting them know of his exact location and if you could guess correctly, giving them information on his situation.

"AH!" Zeke screams in agony, averting your gaze to the commotion that starts to go down on the concrete ground as the Yeager bothers land forcefully on it. Eren's gun is smashed to his brother's head, the iron spikes splitting his cheek open upon impact.

"No!" Your eyes widen as you scream, your body moving to take a quick leap down the side of the rooftop, send bricks to stray into the air as you slide down onto them.

Eren's fists are bouncing quickly onto Zeke's head and torso, taking turns to avoid being overworked. Your eyebrow is twitching automatically, your head is practically on fire, your veins popping and flowing with hit throbs and painful sudden rashes of blood. Eren won't react to your screams, you assume his own adrenaline is covering up the sound of your voice for him.

You land right on top of Eren, sending him in collision with Zeke, crashing his jaw onto his brothers chest. The males let out pained mutters, cursing under their breaths as you push your body weight harder onto them.

"Eren don't do this."

You take Eren's torso into your arms, using as much strength as you can manage to press his back into your chest. You ignore the way your heart painfully spreads up, similarly to the way a schoolgirl's at the sight of her crush, you resist the urge to rest your head on Eren's shoulder from the back like you would have done had the circumstances been any different. You only squeal as you try to transfer all your strength to your hands, your feet giving in and your chest heaving as you try to pull Eren even further into you.

"Get off of me." Eren screams thrashing his hands around with enough strength to shoo your grip on him away.

"No!" You chatter, squinting him even more. "You're not killing your own brother."

"Fucking hell, let me go."

Your hand mechanically searches for Eren's thigh even though your vision is still blurry. You're practically ravaging him with one hand for a few seconds, despairately clinging onto whatever resembled the touch of a gun.

"I'm not going to let you do this." You say, pressing him further into you, your heart basically hammering in its skeleton binds.

If Eren believes the guy with gun is always right in a fight, you have to point a gun at him to prove his own point to him. Right?

You clad your arms under his arpits, securing your grip onto the top of his shoulder as you manage to flick him off, balancing his weight onto both your knees. With a jump, you land on your wobbly feet, your iron clad heels making loud thuds as you jolt your body slightly to Eren's direction. Your wrist flicks, signing to Zeke's hands and consecuentially they come together, seemingly tied up by invisible imaginary bounds.

A harden expression masks your face as you point the edge of the gun to Eren, pushing it mere inches away from his face, the cold metal flushing with the outside parts of his helmet.

"Take it off, slowly." You order, your stern eyes never bowing the the puppy like eyes Eren is pointing at you. "I'm the guy with the gun, if you're smart you do as I say." You turn your face to the right, now pointing directly to Zeke. "You too Beast."

Under any other circumstance you would have felt your heart melt at the sight to your left; bellow his helmet Eren is battered, bruised and he's glistering with swear and grease -you assume it's from the creaks of his head cover- this sight should be enough for you to throw the gun away from your hand, or destroy it with your powers.

Eren hisses as his hands move to click on the securing buttons of his helmet, the lightweight iron thrashing into more pieces as it comes undone, the damage it had undergone seemingly unredeemable. You sighed internally, Eren has more than a dozen of them back at his place, so replacing this one wont be an issue, fortunatelly. Your hard eyes never leave him, his own turqouise orbs fixating on you the moment his helmet is put to the ground. His hands shoot up in defeat, his palms extended as he stares at you with an annoyed expression.

“Fine? Got what you wanted?”

“Eren!” you utter, stomping your foot to the ground.

You don’t realise at first -yet it doesn’t slip Eren- but the gun is quaking in your hand. With your trembling hand mere inches before him, it’s hard not to notice in the end, but he spares you of the embarassment for a second, he focuses on how to get himself out of this situation first.

“Sorry, babe.” Eren smiles at you, using his feet to flip himself off of the ground, pushing his weight onto his torse for his feet to levitate off the ground. Shook and thrown off by his sudden act, the gun in your hand slips and you squeal, yur grip on Zeke unfocusing as your powers dictate Eren to come to an halt midair. His body thrashes down to the ground, grunts of agony coming out of his chest.

It happens before you even have a chance to blink; your powers are weakened, Eren screams an ear piercing screech and Zeke starts running towards your direction. Multiple bangs echo through the air and you don’t even have a chance to look up to pinpoint where their source lays, your neck is looped on the inside of an elbow but at this point all you can see is black and white as your ears ring dangerously.

“Zeke! Let her go!” Eren screams, his eyes pacing between Zeke and the new additions to the scene, Flotch and Yelena. They both point their guns to Zeke’s direction, panting and Eren is panting as well, his mouth running miles ahead of his brain. He knows he’s in a sticky situation, left unarmed hen Zeke has managed to grab the gun you dropped, shot on the left bicept, but it’s nothing compared to you

Thick crimson fell in gushes from your head, sipping slightly to the cavity at the edge of your mouth, rushing down the painful path to your neck. Your costume seeped in it, the cloth furiously sipping like a hungry vampire as more blood run over it. Eren didn't dare move his hands, only his real orbs paced between his team members, remaining wide open, despairate to light up in any frail solution he could think of.

"If I let her go, you'll let me take my leave."

Eren's brain throbbed, the coiling cavities swelling and shrinking. He examined the possibilities and went over his options like a madman, there were a few ways in which he could entrust Zeke's extermination to Yelena and Flotch, he could even manage to grab you in the midst of it and bring you to safety. The bullet Zeke has shot towards you hadn't planted its way into your head, it had only scratched over the surface, he should be able to stop the bleeding if he could manage to bring you to safety.

If he was completely honest, he could have numerous opportunies to kill Zeke, he couldn't bring you back though in any case you died.

"Fine." He said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Get it your way."

"No funny games brother."

With a piercing look thrown at Yelena, Eren leaped a step towards Zeke. The blonde and the redhead lowered their guns pointing their cranes to the cobblestone ground. Eren's iron enhanced footsteps filled the teeny alleyway but they came to an halt as soon as they began. Zeke brought a hand to his nose, pinching the tip slightly despite the fact that his glasses had been shattered to pieces his digits still went for his habitual action of fixing them on his diaphragm.

When Zeke's footing dug into the ground, the material screeching from the intense friction Eren widened his eyes. With your head in his palm he rushed into the wall, blood drenched (h/c) tresses sticking onto his tan skin. With a huge thud he smashed your head against the wall, a roar blurting its way out of the depths of his chest. Then, his feet made the best out of their existence, running as fast as they could, if these were his last moments, at least he caused some mayhem and pain to live up to his reputation.

Eren didn't even have a chance to jump into the commotion in time yet he leaped on your side with your name falling out of his lips in the form of a scream. With no need to be commanded to Yelena and Flotch raised their guns at Zeke, shooting while launching on his direction, leaving Eren and your unconscious body behind.

...

"There's no hope for us right?"

You were dying.

Sprawled over a gray cement built rooftop that paid homage to Trost's biggest neon sign you were taking your last few breaths. And Eren was the only one to blame.

You laid rested on his lap, his hand frozen over the roots of your hair as he felt how tangled they felt with all the dried blood on them. Electric blue neon light fell over his shoulders in the mellowest way, creating a halo over his body, his messy hair and all of its stray strands sticking out as the contrasted the light.

"I'm sorry I brought you here at a moment like this. But since you always said you wanted us to hang out here"

Eren paused to sniffle the little goo at the tip of his nose. A burning sensation in his chest chocked him, it crushed his lungs under an iron grip, the splash of blood and flesh echoing inside his torso. His stomach fell and repositioned itself, his gut churned, his eyes solidified pain in the form of hot, salty tears.

"I couldn't think of anything else."

There wasn't any hope for you. Your skull was cracked open beyond saving, your forehead was jabbed and crushed, your eye bloody and scarlet where bright white should have been. Your nose was broken and crooked. It was only a matter of sorrowful moments before life left your body but Eren couldn't bring himself to help you into descenting faster into the light.

"You probably can't even listen to me. But I love you, always did, always will. I never meant what I said that night. About not knowing why I was with you."

Tears ran down his face, his chest quacking in endless sobs that he tried to muffle. But he couldn't help it, despite having grown into a silent nonchalant adult, he still couldn't push past the hurt if losing someone that close to him. Whatever facade he had ever tried to put on himself was crumbling down in seconds before you, right in this very moment.

"Levi's on his way to take you to a hospital." He announced, yet he doubted you could listen. His hands wiped furiously at his stinging and painful tears. The drops of blood that entered his eyes made him hiss even further.

A bloody palm came to cup under your jaw, and Eren hissed as he felt the bone going stiff. He refused to believe it, he refused to believe your mouth had locked, he refused to believe it was happening. For all that matters he didn't want this to be your last shared moment.

From afar he could see Levi and his former friends approaching, the sound of sirens complimenting the background as the neon sign started buzzing and flickering behind him. When Levi finally stepped his foot to your direction he spoke no word, much like the rest of the team, except for Mikasa who shot him a comforting glare and a pat on the forearm.

Eren watches as Levi checked for your pulse and took you over his back, your body laying numb over his own. He spoke no words as he watched the man pull away and roam between buildings before disappearing. As the neon sign behind him made a chirpy, electronic voice and spurt a few sparks of quickly dissolving fire three more hands came to rest on his shoulders. Jean, Connie and Sasha had all silently tried to seek for a way to comfort him, confiding into mimicking Mikasa.

Eren knew he wouldn't ever have the chance to see you illuminated by the cobalt neon light again.

Taglist: @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @callmepromise @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @alrightberries

Super special thanks to my baby @sasageyowrites and my dear @aichiin (if you don’t check out her art i will be mad!)

#Eren Jaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren #snk eren #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagines #eren yaeger x you #eren jeager

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nari-nim · 4 years ago

Text

watermelon sugar high (M)

Treasure Jihoon x Y/N

You pay Jihoon’s dorm a visit, bearing a few gifts to celebrate a break in his promotions. When your time gets interrupted by a phone call, dom!Jihoon takes advantage of the situation to tease sub!fem!reader until you cannot take it anymore.

warnings: smut, dom/sub themes, intense foreplay, exhibitionism, orgasm denial, corruption and strength kinks, mentions of bondage

word count: 2.2k

“Thank you, y/n. You’re the best!” Junkyu crowed, eagerly stabbing the straw into his cup of watermelon juice. Jihoon chuckled as a few members chorused in agreement.

“She is, isn’t she?” Jihoon cooed, moving his arm from around your shoulder to rub small circles on your waist.

“Please just drink yours before all the ice melts.” You gently swatted at his shoulder, earning his trademark eye smile in return. Jihoon made kissy faces at you while waving a tissue as his makeshift white flag. You laughed and made a gagging noise in return, earning a symphony of “oohs.” But before Jihoon could make a sassy retort, your phone rang.

“Sorry guys, give me a minute,” you said, glancing apologetically over at Jihoon, whose eyes were already on yours. A soft pout slowly took over his gentle, loving expression. This wasn’t the first time your friend had called you in the middle of your time together, but Jihoon always understood.

By way your expression changed, Jihoon knew that he wasn’t the only one slightly put off by the interruption. But I can make this fun, Jihoon thought, biting his lips in anticipation. After blurting some quick excuse, he followed you into his room. You smiled at him in question when he shut the door behind him. Jihoon shrugged his shoulders cutely in response and mouthed “cuddles.”

Innocent enough.

If it weren’t for the show of taking off his sweater in a swift motion, to briefly (and purposely) reveal his lower stomach and boxer hem. Or the way he then adjusted his shirt underneath to made sure you could see how it clung to his frame.

Your mouth felt a little dry, but you pushed aside those very unholy thoughts and crawled into his outstretched arms. While your friend started telling you about the interview she just crushed, you found yourself slowly tuning her out as you snuggled up against Jihoon. It wasn’t that her tales weren’t interesting, it was how you somehow always forgot how truly fit Jihoon is until your run your hand across his chest like you are now. Something about the way his abs felt through the soft T-Shirt started a numbing sensation near the bottom of your stomach. Suddenly, all you could think about was how scandalous it would be if you interrupted her riveting tale of the resume review with sounds of Jihoon slapping your ass while driving into you, drawing out your most sinful moans.

You close your eyes and buried your face into his chest, taking in the smell of fresh laundry and a small splash of your favorite cologne, to force yourself to calm down. Little did you know, Jihoon was suppressing a cheeky grin. He guided you to face away from him and towards the mirror across his room. He held you on his lap in a warm embrace, winking at your reflection before burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. His lips, still cold from the watermelon juice, sent chills down your spine as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses against the spot right below your ear.

“Yeah, that’s amazing,” you replied to your friend, clearing your throat to try to ignore the effect Jihoon has on you. You unconsciously shift a little, because god that tingling sensation between your legs was getting so hard to ignore. The movement slightly lifted your shirt, allowing Jihoon’s fingertips to accidentally graze on the lace fringe of your panties peaking out of your shorts. His fingertips felt hot on your stomach as you both freeze. You felt him stiffen underneath you, and your breath hitched.

Oh my god, you internally groan. This wasn’t how he was supposed to see what you were planning on revealing later that night (in another setting that’s NOT the damn dorm room with minors down the hall). Jihoon bought you this pair because it reminds him of that particular night when he tied you against your headboard with lacy ribbons, and then mercilessly ate you out again and again, until the ribbons left marks on your wrists. He’s sentimental like that.

Shyly, you peaked at the mirror to see his face. Your eyes widened at the sight. Jihoon’s hooded eyes bore into yours as he slowly ran his tongue across his parted lips. Normally, he would have thrown you against some surface and taken you right then and there until you all you could do was scream his name incoherently. But you knew that cocky smirk only meant he had other ideas in mind. You bit your lip, curious where Jihoon was taking this.

“Y/n? You there?” Your friend asked, noticing the silence. Oh, if only she could hear your thoughts.

You felt him move his head against yours, signaling you to look into mirror and at his dark expression. He nodded at you pointedly. You gulped, and took a shaky breath. “Yes— yes. What did the guy say-”

You quickly cut yourself off because Jihoon use the very moment you started speaking to moved his hands up from your panties and under your shirt to press his palms against your clothed breasts. You threw your head back at the feeling of his hands pleasuring your hardened nipples through the thin fabric. That sensation always leaves you reeling and he knows that. It took you everything to hold back a whine. So instead you pressed your lips together and mumbled some affirmative response to your friend. Jihoon’s hands push aside the bralette to fit your nipples in the valley between his index and middle fingers as he continued to massage your boobs. Instinctively, you moved the phone as far away as your arm would allow and let out a low whimper.

Wrong move. Jihoon grabbed your outreached hand and yanked the phone back next to your ear. In the other, he hissed, “You wouldn’t want to stop the call now would you, babygirl?”

You shook your head frantically, biting back whimpers at the pet name.

“That’s what I thought.”

Jihoon used the pause to sit you on top of his right thigh so he could take off your top. You couldn’t help but start rocking gently against the toned muscles. He grabbed your waist and stilled you, growling “behave” into your ear. Obediently, you stopped as he tossed your shirt across the bed.

“Good girl,” Jihoon praised. As a reward, Jihoon swiped his fingers across your parted lips, and slid his index in. Grateful for some form of purchase, you eagerly hallowed your cheeks and sucked on his finger, coating his digit with your tongue. He admired the glazed look in your eyes, the dark blush coloring your cheeks, and the desperate ‘o’ formed around his now two fingers.

No one, Jihoon mused, would ever see you like this past your seemingly innocent facade. At that thought, he realized just how impatient he was getting. His hard on throbbed in agreement. So to help the both of you out, Jihoon reached over to enable speakerphone to tell your friend how you had to go.

You almost cried out in relief, because this means you can end this torture and grab his shirt and—

The speakerphone kicked in just in time for him to hear your friend say, “So what do you think I should do?”

On a second thought, Jihoon mused, Maybe not.

Fuck, you internally screamed.

Jihoon could tell you knew exactly what was going through his mind from the little gasp that escaped your lips. His subsequent realization that you were still going to listen to him despite the increasingly wet spot seeping through his grey sweats almost made him groan. As you collected your breath to start answering, he quickly pulled down your shorts to reveal the damp, pretty little thing you wore underneath. Now he groaned. You looked ravishing.

“You good, y/n? You sound kinda breathless.”

This was getting too much for you to handle. You wanted to follow Jihoon’s instructions, but you needed to hang up on her. Through your lightheadedness, you reasoned that she would understand. Understand the way you could feel Jihoon’s dick pressing against you, promising everything you can’t have at the moment. Understand the way his eyes were practically fucking you through your lingerie made your walls clench around nothing and how that frustrated you to no end.

“You know what? No, I actually really need to go. I’m—”

Jihoon chose this movement to press his palm against your clothed core, rubbing a gentle circle before slipping past the lace and using his middle and ring fingers to rub into your clit. Hard.

You moaned. Loud.

That was it. Face aflame, you tore out of Jihoon’s lap and to the safety of his desk. You profusely apologized into the phone, hung up without letting her reply, and slammed your phone down.

“You can’t-“ you cried, whipping around. Jihoon didn’t let you finish. He slammed his right hand against the wall, trapping you between the desk and his now shirtless torso. His left hand pressed the back of your neck into a searing kiss. You moaned, the longing finally over. He tasted like the watermelon juice--sugary, sweet, and ever so nice. His lips molded into yours, swallowing the sigh of relief as you brought your hands up to run through his golden locks. Jihoon grunted as you tugged, the sound making your knees rubber. He responded by pressing his lips harder into yours. You grasped onto his shoulders for support to return the deepened kiss with gusto. You whimpered as his tongue swirled into your mouth, circling against your tongue and muffling your strings of moans.

You had to feel more of him. Jihoon must’ve felt you tense because he readily caught you as you jumped up to latch your body to his, wrapping your limbs around him. His biceps bulged as he moved an arm from the bottom of your thighs to feel up your ass as he pressed you against the wall. You grinded against his dick, now barely contained by his briefs, seeking release from the relentless teasing earlier. Jihoon compiled to your pleasant surprise, moving his hips in rhythm to yours. You gasped and panted as you started to reach your high.

Just as you started to see stars, Jihoon broke off the heated kiss and lifted you away from him. It felt illegal—how strong his is, how he was able to man handle you like that, how needy you were.

“Tell me,” he panted. “What can’t I do?”

You whined, wanting more of him. In the spur of the moment, you forgot how Jihoon never forgets talking back. You shook your head in frustration and tried to press back against him. Your mistake. Jihoon pulled back further and he slammed your back into the wall. His hand shot up to grab your chin, fingers pressing into your cheek. He leaned in, his lips ghosting against yours. “You need to use your words, you little slut. What. Can’t. I. Do.”

You let out a strangled cry, now more deprived than ever. “Nothing, Jihoon. I’m yours, yours, all yours.”

Tears prickled up in your eyes. You were so desperate for him. It’s been weeks since he last touched you like this, and he knew how to push your buttons almost too well. You were not a stranger to edging thanks to Jihoon, but the pain of denial was quickly onsetting and you just needed him so badly.

Jihoon eyes widened a little, not expecting the tears already. He grip on your loosened ever so slightly. “Color?”

You took a shaky breath. “Yellow.”

“Please,” you continued, breathing hard. “Please, Jihoon. Please just fuck me.”

He rested this forehead against yours for a second as if to gather himself. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder before taking a step back.

“On the bed, now.”

read part 2

author’s note: AHH! This is my first fanfic I ever wrote so I would appreciate any reshares and support! Let me know what you think! I’m kinda nervous to be on here without any familiar networks, so please feel free to request, submit any hard/soft asks, and send a message! I wanna be friends/am looking for some people to show me the ropes around here :)

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