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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years ago

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Title: Crown For Two {9}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton

Warning: Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Fluff,

Words: 8.2k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan: “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four-destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. She explores and meets the friendly locals. One local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: AND WE’RE BACK!!! It’s December again which means we all need a cheesy Christmas romance. 😁 I know this has been gone for a long, long time and I am thankful for each of you who still care about it. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} | {6} | {7} | {8} |

-Y/N-

“Hey you’ve reached Neka. I’m too busy living my life the way I want to and can’t be bothered to answer. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. If I want to.”

You sighed hearing your sister’s very familiar voicemail message.

“Aneka, it’s me. Where are you? I get this place is obscenely huge and there is plenty to explore but pick up the damn phone. Let me know you’re okay.”

You ended the call and sighed again as you made sure you had everything in your purse. A few moments later, you stopped thinking again about going to this thing. Half of you was telling you it was a bad idea and that you should stay away from everything related to this country including its crown prince. However, the other side was traitorous and telling you to run carefree and live by the seat of your panties and take them off for said crown prince.

What’s the worst that could happen? You recognized the question from the carefree and often diabolical devil on your shoulder.

Humiliation and heartbreak are what. The words from the practical and cautious angel on the other side of your shoulder piped up.

You stood there thinking about both sides for a few moments then continued putting items into your purse.

Good girl, live a little, have some fun and get a few orgasms at the same time. Win/win. The devil was on a roll.

It is all fun and games until you get your heart broken by an actual prince who has obligations to be with someone other than you.

The angel’s words were like a gut punch. It was right.

MSG Aneka: I’m sorry RiRi. I’m going to this thing in the park. You should come I hear it’s a lot of fun.

Your sister never ceased to amaze you. She’d found out about the citizen’s Brexenavide on her own and was already in the thick of it. She had no problem going with the flow and having a good time when she saw it could be had. You sighed again, finally deciding to just do it. However, a few minutes after making the decision you scowled remembering who you’d be driving with.

There was something about this Freddie girl that rubbed you the wrong way. Something about her that screamed she was not to be trusted and that included enough to be in the same car. You groaned because you’d long left high school and the petty turf wars of petty bitches behind. You were an adult now who had bills and obligations and checking a rich bitch wasn’t one of them. A smirk spread across your face as you came to the realization that you were happy to rise to the occasion though. After looking yourself over, you divided to change. While your current outfit was cute, one look outside said you needed something warmer.

At that thought there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, you found a honey eyed member of the staff you recognized. She smiled and bowed her head slightly.

“Ms. Xari. I come with a message from Princess Jemma.”

Recognition hit you then, “Tamina, right?”

She smiled wider and nodded, clearly delighted you remembered her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come in, please.”

“No need ma’am. This is from the princess. She wanted you to have it for the event today. Her direct message is to wear it and it will ensure no one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

What the hell did that mean? You reached out to Tamina and took the two garment bags that were lying across her forearms.

“Thank you, Tamina. Please thank the princess.”

Tamina bowed again before walking off. When you turned back into your room you staggered to the bed from the weight of the items in your arms and laid the bags across your bed. Unzipping the first one, your eyes widened at the sight of a chic, and beautiful outfit resting there. The items looked designer, and no doubt must have costed several thousand dollars. Your hand brushed against the shiny leather of the pants and instantly recognized it was high quality. It went perfect with the cropped knitted sweater that rested just atop it.

You didn’t know how Jemma knew you were a sucker for leather pants, but you were busting at the seams to try them on. Every woman needed a great pair of leather pants that made their ass pop. You reached for the second bag and opened it and gasped. A plush fur coat that brought the whole thing together waited for you to touch it. You were so tempted, and that temptation proved to be too much. When your fingers entangled in the fur, you cooed. It was perfect. Leather and fur, how luxurious, you thought.

When in Rome, or Brexendor. Live a little. The angel on your shoulder had a point. Within minutes, you’d peeled off your own clothing and changed into the ones sent by Jemma. Surprisingly they were a perfect fit. The moment you buttoned the pants you sighed. They were made for you. Once you’d pulled it all together, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in the room and surveyed your look from every angle. Every angle passed the test. You looked damn good. For the final test, you dropped down like you were doing the beat drop challenge and kept your eyes on your ass. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Thank you, Jemma!”

You hurried into the closet, remembering you’d already packed the perfect boots to wear with this outfit. When you’d packed, Aneka had made fun of you saying you were going to slip on a patch of ice and break your neck because of them. You didn’t bother telling her it would never happen because no one pays nearly nine hundred dollars for boots that were designed for cold weather in mind with the chance of said boots sending you to your death because they couldn’t hold up. You’d worn these two times before and they’d never failed you.

Standing in front of the mirror again, this time in the knee-high fur heeled boots you smirked. Jemma’s words came to mind then.

“Wear it and it will ensure no one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

You wondered if Henry would be among those who couldn’t keep their eyes off of you. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and within seconds you were frozen reminiscing of the way his hands felt against your skin, the scent of his breath as he moaned against your ear, the taste of his lips and the intensity in his eyes when his locked with yours. You had to put a hand out to stabilize yourself because the thought of his body pressing on top of yours made your knees buck

With much effort, you pulled yourself back to reality. If you thought about him any longer you knew you’d be on edge all day which you guessed would be akin to torture. There was a nagging feeling inside of you that told you that you’d need to be alert today. After checking your make up once more, you grabbed your purse and phone then made your way downstairs. As you passed by the staff you stopped for small talk, inquiring about everyone’s health and thanking them for all they’d done for you thus far. Each of them looked surprised but more than happy to stop and chat with you.

When you stepped outside into the entry roundabout of the palace, you saw a long line of cars waiting and plenty of bustling bodies still in preparing mode for the departure. You watched the dignitaries load in their cars and pull off one by one. From the looks of all this pomp and flair, you knew this event was much more than just meeting the citizens. Perhaps this was a test of some sorts. You saw the man who’d been introduced as the prime minister do a quick perimeter check, surveying the around area before he looked in your direction. You expected him to get into the car as normal, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared in your direction and the longer he did the more the hairs on the back of your neck stood like your entire being was trying to tell you something about the man.

The feel of someone touching your left elbow startled you.

“My apologies Lady Thornton,” said one of the palace butlers.

“It’s all right.”

“Your car.”

His hand stretched to the left at a silver car with its door open and waiting. Through the window, you could see the woman who’d so eagerly offered herself and her car to get you to the event. You were under no false pretenses about her sincerity in doing so. There was something more to her supposedly kind offer. You weren’t in a hurry to find out just how much more but from the way you’d caught her looking at Henry the night of the ball you had your guesses. You allowed the butler to direct you to the car and see you inside.

As soon as you sat, the woman across from you pasted a smile on her face. It was one of those basic instinct smiles, a smile that housed a thousand lies, and a thousand and one daggers.

“Xari, darling!”

Your eyes widened. It had been a while since you’d been around this level of fake.

“Thank you offering to get me to the event,” you breached.

She smiled wider, if that was possible then leaned closer and took your hand in hers. “No thank you needed, dear. I have always been keen on helping those less fortunate.”

You heard the bells of a boxing match in your head. She’d started round one.

“Wow, um--.”

“What a cute outfit you’ve chosen for yourself. I worried your tastes would be too—tactless for what the Brexendor press are used to, but I am surprised to see tactlessness will be missing from the day, at least in your outfit.”

You cocked your head to the side. How did she manage to make so many insults sound so pleasant? You stifled a snort because thanks to your upbringing you’d been forced to go through debutant classes where you learned everything from etiquette to the art of polite disrespect. It was a southern thing. Those classes had prepared you to deal with the southern aunties, upper class grandmothers and quite a few socialites who thought they were better than everyone else because they had a trust fund and a rotation of cars for every day of the week.

You opened your mouth to speak but the door on the right of the car opened first. First it was your sister, Aneka who ducked inside and sat beside you, then Albee, the man with the pretty eyes from the ball who sat beside Freddie.

“Aneka?”

She looped her arm with yours and smiled. “I thought you’d left already?”

“I was but I got—distracted,” she said coyly smiling at Albee who smirked right back.

“What are you doing in my car, Albee? Though I know yours is far less luxurious than mine I am sure you have your own car,” Freddie cheeked.

Albee didn’t look fazed in the least, instead he smirked and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “Freddie you are aware that we are the same rank, correct?”

“Duchess Frederica,” she retorted through clenched teeth.

Albee scoffed. “Freddie. We’re all friends here, no need for titles. Only those who feel themselves more important than you truly are need to lean on such trivial things.”

Freddie glared at him with one brow raised.

“Since you are offering transport, I humbly accept your offer. Driver, carry on.”

Before Freddie could reply, the car took motion, and she didn’t look one bit happy about it. You and Aneka exchanged glances speaking through them as you usually did. You were tempted to bust out your secret language from when you were kids but didn’t want to come off as intentionally rude. This was a tit for tat game.

“And who are you?”

Freddie’s calculating eyes landed on Aneka, but she didn’t shrink back, Aneka instead raised her brow and put on a sugar sweet smile on her face.

“Aneka, Xari’s sister.”

Freddi’s eyebrow darted upward as she took both of you in. “So there are two less fortunate souls that need our charity.”

“The only thing unfortunate is your dye job. Did you pay for that?”

The fire in Freddie’s eyes sparked and you saw Aneka had struck a nerve. It was after all her specialty.

“Oh don’t tease dear Freddie about her hair. She loves it more than Jesus and little children,” Albee teased.

“Children are disgusting,” she added never taking her eyes off of Aneka.

“Interesting. That is not what I recall you telling the queen just a few weeks ago. What was it? Oh, I do so love children and cannot wait until I can become a mother. I do believe it is my life’s purpose.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Dipping your head to the side to hide in Aneka’s shoulder you snickered.

“I knew I scented fake on you, but I didn’t know it was this much of it,” Aneka added.

“Fake? Are we talking about fake as in your supposed Gucci shoes or perhaps that atrocity you call hair atop your head? That level of fake?”

Aneka lunged forward but your hand across her chest like a theme park ride safety bar stopped her.

“Ri, Aneka began but the look you gave her stopped any further words.

“So your hair is a sore topic? Remember that before you even attempt to go toe to toe with me.”

You could hear Aneka’s teeth grinding. You knew she had it in her to beat Freddie’s ass in record time then step out the car without so much as a scratch on her. However, this was not the place and definitely not the time. You didn’t want to offend the queen or the family especially with the level of hospitality they were currently showing you both.

“Take it easy Freddie. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened two Christmases ago. I don’t think the gossip would die down so quickly this time,” Albee cautioned.

The look Freddie gave him could have frozen anyone’s heart, but he didn’t look bothered at all. His smile was bright as he met the challenge of her icy gaze. It was clear that this was normal for the two of them. Either this was a huge scheme between them to dupe the newcomer or the two disliked each other.

“Why am I not surprised that you have found yet another commoner to slum it with. Do you not have any sense of pride or self-worth? Do you not feel them beneath you?”

Aneka made a move to lunge at Freddie again, but you held firmly to her and brought her attention to look out the window.

“Tsk, Tsk Freddie. Where is your decorum? My sense of pride and worth were never in question. Yours however—I can after all say I have never had a lifelong pursuit of someone who didn’t want me in the slightest bit.”

You tucked that bit of information away for when you were alone to dissect it. All conversation stopped and you pointed things out to Aneka. Everything you pointed out Albee took it upon himself to either explain or give backstory to. It was interesting the information he revealed about the country. It was clear from his voice he also loved his home. With every other sentence he spoke, Freddie had a snide remark for. Either it was something to make him look bad or to point out how out of bounds you were to even be here.

Thankfully, the car pulled into the destination when it did because you were quickly approaching the limit to your acceptance and ability to turn the other cheek. You looked at all the things that were set up for this event. Off to the side where the path was fully paved, there were stations set up for snacks, drinks, souvenirs, pictures and a few other things such as arts and crafts. Across the massive open field there was plenty to do. The car rolled past a toboggan area where children and adults were already speeding down the steep slope having a fabulous time. There was even an ice-skating rink that looked like the perfect photo-op to showcase how picturesque this country really was. You caught sight of other stalls set up with games, even child and family friendly park rides and even animals for petting.

“Wow, give me this over a ball any day,” Aneka said.

Freddie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Gauche,” she hissed.

The car door opened but before Freddie could make a move you slammed it shut again and locked it. You’d had enough.

“I have sat here this entire car ride and listened to your disrespect and belittlement of myself, and my sister and I let you get it all out because I know those who feel threatened the most always feel the need to wail and moan about it so their voices are the ones heard the loudest to distract from how insignificant they truly feel and are.”

Freddie’s eyes blazed. She opened her mouth to speak but you continued, keeping your voice steady. “I wasn’t going to point out your insignificance, but I feel I must now. If you had any respect for yourself, your country and people you would shut your mouth and practice a little thing we call in America and by we, I mean women with mine and Aneka’s hair, call self-restraint and self-love. Because you would truly understand that you reflect upon your country and people. It is very telling of your low intelligence when all you can do is attempt to make others feel lowly about themselves because you put so much value on wealth. This holier than thou act will only lead to one thing in your life, shame and loneliness. Though I think you are fully aware of the loneliness part. You can’t make me feel bad about myself because I know my worth and it is astronomically higher than yours and we both know he sees that.”

Freddie sputtered clearly trying to find the words for a comeback. You gave her a good five seconds to compute but even that wasn’t enough. Poor little Tink Tink, you thought as you unlocked the door. It opened as soon as you did like the driver had been trying the entire time. You didn’t wait for her to climb out you took the initiative and took the driver’s hand and climbed out of the car holding onto Aneka’s hand bringing her with you.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you caught Henry’s eye. His brows were burrowed and there was a look of concern on his face. You gave him a polite smile and head nod as you rounded the car. Slowly, he brought his attention to the group of men before him. Albee stepped beside you then leaned close to your ear.

“She has fangs,” he whispered.

You smirked, “And my bite and bark are both deadly.”

His smile widened as he tipped his invisible hat to you.

“I like you,” Albee added as the line of dignitaries began moving. “And I can see why he likes you too.”

His voice was lower this time, but it was his words that had you stumbling. Thanks to Aneka’s grip on your arm, it was barely noticeable. Thank goodness too because the press were hungrily snapping pictures of everyone and everything. You and the others stood to the side as Henry, the queen and Jemma shook hands and took the lead in the festivities. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow Henry as he shook the hands of several people while exchanging pleasantries. His smile was wide and the gleam in his eyes said he was genuinely happy to be there and interact with them all.

When you saw him dip down to greet a few children, your ovaries practically exploded. The kids melted and in turn he did too. He played around with them as his mother and sister took over with greeting the adults. The more you watched the more your heart thumped thinking how adorable he looked.

“Romancing the daughters of the dignitaries, Duke Baldrik?”

Your attention turned to a photog standing in front of the three of you snapping pictures. The bright lights blinded you momentarily making you bring your hand to shield your face.

“Ha, not at all, Albee replied with a bachelor perfect smile.

“They look unfamiliar. Who might they be?”

“Honored guests of the crown,” Albee offered holding out his arms for both you and Aneka to take. Once you did, he tipped his head to the photog and began ushering you toward the stalls that were set up.

“Enjoy the event,” Albee called out.

As soon as he was out of earshot, he blew out. “While the press here is not entirely as bad as it is in America, I do have to caution you. Do not underestimate them.”

“Thank you,” Aneka said with a flirtatious smile.

If was clear now that she was into him. Of course, she was, you thought. Aneka liked them pretty.

“My pleasure. The longer you are here the more you will be able to figure out which ones prefer some scandal on top of their news and who truly have the crown’s best interest at heart. Him—scandal fattens his pockets.”

You scanned the photographer from before who was now snapping pictures of Freddie who was now with two other women who looked just as stuck up as she did. She looked to be loving the attention and the compliments she was getting from everyone around her. Figured. Rolling your eyes, you turned your back on her.

“Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

“The power she wields.”

“Call me dense because I know nothing of her power. All I see is a sad little bitch.”

Albee snorted and heartily laughed bringing the attention of most around you, even Henry.

“My goodness. You are a breath of fresh air. Would you like me to enlighten you of her power, or the power of her name?”

You looked at a few figurines at the stall smiling at how cute they were.

“Nah, I don’t care.”

“I do. Know thy enemy, Art of War, Sun Tzu,” Aneka butt in.

Albee’s smile widened. “I do think I am going to enjoy this season.”

As the three of you walked around taking in the many activities, that had been prepared Albee told you all about Freddie and her family. He didn’t leave much out including her net worth and the influence her family had in the past. When he told you about her lifetime hope and dream of becoming the queen, you almost laughed. Of course she wanted to be queen. She was clearly obsessed with power and wanted the second highest position in the country. However, when Albee revealed that Henry didn’t seem to be keen on that idea you couldn’t keep a smile off your face. It was short lived though, because it dawned on you then that you’d stepped right into another season of “The Bachelor: Who Wants the Crown”. Rich women would fight to their last press on nail for more money and more power and it was even better if it came with a crown and a pretty hot prince.

From the look Aneka gave you, she was thinking the same thing. You tentatively listened as Albee pointed out the who was who of the group all with backstory. He was clearly well informed from growing up within all of this but firm the way he spoke about the rest of them in comparison to Henry you could tell he harbored no ill will toward him. Perhaps there really were some good people besides the queen and Jemma after all.

Fo the next few hours you, Aneka and Albee explored the park flitting from game to game and stall to stall. Every few seconds you were snapping pictures trying to capture the joy and liveliness that was all around you. Everyone was so friendly you couldn’t help but feel right at home among them. Kids easily approached you to play and sing and show you the ropes of a few local games. Grandmothers with kind eyes happily shared stories and happy memories of previous Brexenavides while offering local delicacies like candied nuts that came in a plethora of flavors that you quickly became addicted to.

Before you knew it, you’d wandered off by yourself with no sight of Aneka or Albee. You wondered if it was purposely done so she could get some alone time with him. Deciding not to go find them, you wandered the area some more until you felt a snowball hit your back. Expecting to see a child, you spun around but found Henry with the evidence on his leather gloves. Your jaw dropped.

“Your highness,” you gasped.

His laugh echoed around you as he approached you.

“Forgive me my lady.”

“There goes that title again. I’m no lady.”

Henry took you in for a few moments. “I beg to differ. I have always seen a lady as one who is refined, polite and well spoken, someone who makes those around them feel valued.”

“And that is me?”

“Yes. Since you’ve arrived, I have overheard many of the maids talking about your kindness to them how you never make them feel less than and how you are always polite, stopping to talk to them as if you care about their feelings.”

“And I take it that is something out of character in Brexendor.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Among my family not at all, but when the palace gets filled with dignitaries and other world leaders, I am ashamed to say yes.”

You nodded and popped a few more candied nuts into your mouth. You tipped the bag toward him.

“Are those what I think they are?”

He dipped inside and came away with a small handful that he tossed into his mouth. The moan he let out was deep and it took you right back to the night before. Goosebumps skirted across your skin making you stand taller as a shiver ran through you.

“Are you cold?”

“Uh—no. I’m all right.”

“I am sorry I got carried away. These have always been my favorite. I remember the first outing my father took me to. He knew I was not looking forward to it and that I was anxious about making a good impression on him and the family. Once I got into the car, he had a bag of these waiting for me. As we drove, we talked about sports, video games and my tutor who I mightily disliked. We ate the whole bag within minutes and by the time we got to the appearance all of my nerves had wilted away. Every outing I went on whether it was with him or without there was a bag of these waiting for me.”

The smile on his face was so warm but it was also sorrowful.

“That’s beautiful.”

He nodded popping another one into his mouth. “Then he died and since—I haven’t had not even one.”

The sadness rolling off of him touched your heart. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him everything was going to be all right. You wanted to comfort him in a way that this open space did not permit. You glanced around and caught sight of the toboggan area.

“How good are you at toboggan?”

Henry scoffed the dusted off his hands. “I am the toboggan king.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Put your money where your mouth is, your highness.”

“Money? Are we betting?”

“Bet your ass we are.”

“My ass? My, my Lady Thornton, how forward you are to think that is up for grabs.”

The look he gave you was a steamy one.

“Is there something else that should be up for grabs, your highness? Perhaps something—harder to—accomplish—something bigger?”

Heat flashed behind his icicle blue orbs as he held your gaze. Henry took a step to you then another. With clenched jaws, he sighed.

“Winner makes the request?”

“Wager accepted.”

The two of you walked over to the toboggan areas. As soon as you approached those around marveled at having him so close. It didn’t matter their age they were all captivated by him. To have that much power, you thought. How was he not some self-absorbed asshole?

“After you,” Henry offered, holding his hand out to an empty toboggan. You smirked then climbed on taking care to use your long jacket to pool between your legs so there would be no unsavory photos later.

Once you were comfortable, you glanced to your left, he was seated in his own toboggan ready and waiting with a boyish excited smile on his face. You wondered when the last time was that he’d smiled like that.

“Last chance to back out Lady Thornton.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “A lady never goes back on a wager. Are you sure you don’t want to forfeit before you lose terribly in front of your citizens? A true king knows when he is in over his head.”

Henry laughed loudly again and everyone around him giggled clearly catching his excited joy.

“That is true, but I assure you my lady, this is not one of those times.”

You smiled and focused in front of you. Someone off to the side began counting down from four and when you shouted one a pair of strong hands gave you one push sending you down the steep hill. You’d underestimated the hill greatly and your scream said so. Henry laughed then leaned backward. You watched him inch before you, leading by almost a foot. You did the same and smiled when you cut his lead by a few inches. With the bottom of the hill in sight, you needed a last-ditch effort to come out on top. Not knowing if it would work or not, you rocked back and forth hoping it would increase your speed. Instead, it made the toboggan choppy.

All too late, you saw the fist sized rock in front of you. However, it was too late. The slate of the toboggan nudged it sending the back of it forward and you sailing through the air. It all happened in slow motion, and you fully caught sight of Henry coasting into the finish line and to a stop. He stood and held his hands in the air in triumph, but that excitement faded when he saw your current state. You heard him shout your name then come barreling toward you. You braced yourself for the hard impact you knew was coming and tried to prepare for the face full of snow you were about to ingest. When you felt the hard collision, it knocked the wind out of your lungs. You rolled a few times but barely felt any pain.

Finally, when you came to a stop, it took several moments to open your eyes. Atop you was Henry with his face mere inches from yours. For a few seconds, you thought you’d transported back in time, and you were in the garden room with him again. The patches of snow in his hair slowly registered as did the fact that he was calling your name with his hands on your cheek.

“Xari.”

“Did I win?”

Henry’s features softened as he gave you a half smile.

“Not even close.”

You giggled at first, but it got louder and more uncontrolled. Henry joined in neither of you fully registering that you were not alone and in fact in front of dozens of people. Feet stamped to you, and you turned your face shielding it from the patches of snow.

“Your highness, are you all right?”

Reality was colder than the snow you laid upon.

“Ehm, yes. I am quite all right,” Henry said as he stood. “Just doing the right thing and saving the damsel in distress.”

You snorted as you took his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull you up. “I suppose I earned that title. Thank you, your highness.”

Henry nodded, bowing his head ever so slightly. “A pleasure, Lady Thronton.”

“This way your highness,” Henry’s advisor breached directing the way.

As he walked off you took note of Freddie and her friends standing off to the side watching you. The look on all their faces told you that you were now on their radar. A few more hours passed, and you took the time to get to every ride and activity. You wanted to experience it all so you could really write about it later. This event was definitely a must for any visitors during this time of year.

When you ducked into a photo booth, you sighed out taking the time to catch your breath and give your feet a break. Before you could get too comfortable, another body ducked in beside you.

“Ex--.”

Henry’s smiling face stopped you.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Funny thing. I came here fully prepared to work but knowing you are here only makes me want to experience this with you—through your eyes.”

You searched his then smirked.

“So, you’re—hiding out?”

He nodded and you had to laugh then. “Oh, your highness.”

“Every time you say that it sounds so dirty, and it brings my head to very ungentlemanly things.”

You leaned forward and began making selections for the pictures.

“Is that so?”

“Quite so. Is it intentional on your part?”

Shrugging, you looked at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, your highness.”

His eyes dropped to your lips and within seconds he pulled you flush against his lips at the same time the flash of the camera went off. You both moaned neither pulling away, both intensifying the kiss. His tongue curled around yours making you wrap your arms around his neck at the same time he brought his hand to the back of your neck. He held you tenderly like you were precious but firm not wanting you to slip away. When you came in here, you hadn’t planned on this being a make out spot but now you couldn’t care less about the pictures.

His lips were sweet but cold and his tongue warm and intoxicating. Somehow, he tasted like peppermint and chocolate, and it was now your new favorite flavor combination. Needing to be closer, you sank your fingers into his tresses and gripped. The guttural moan he let out reverberated all over you, hardening your nipples and moistening your underwear.

“Mm, I can kiss you all day every day and never tire of your lips,” Henry whispered.

“All day? However will you get any work done?”

He smiled then kissed you again nibbling your bottom lip.

“I guess I shall not.”

Your eyes met and you saw the truth of his words. How sweet, you thought before you traced your tongue along his bottom lip then his top carefully outlining his perfect cupid’s bow. He didn’t move an inch. When his eyes fluttered closed giving you the most amazing angle of his long lashes, you softly sighed. Henry then claimed your lips pulling you closer to him so your bodies melded together becoming one figure. His lips hungrily kissed you, nibbling, sucking, licking as he pleased not caring where you were or who could happen upon you at any moment.

“Eh-em, your highness incoming. Duchess Freddie.”

McArthur’s voice broke the lustful haze surrounding you forcing you both to reluctantly pull away. Henry groaned his displeasure then glanced behind you.

“I think I have worked enough today. Care to join me on a personalized tour?”

You smiled brightly then took his head. “As you wish.”

“A low growl escaped him, and it sent your heart fluttering ten times as fast. “I do hope you remember those words when I most need them.”

His grin was mischievous, and you made a note to say them again. The list of words and phrases that elicited a sultry reaction was steadily growing and you planned on monopolizing him at every chance. Henry stood and led you out the other entrance to the booth that was opposite where McArthur must have been standing. His steps were quick as he dashed away like it was the scene of a crime. Perhaps it was seeing how you were now wet and wanting him. When he pulled you through a clearing of pine trees, you squealed, your sense of adventure and excitement picking up.

Once secluded behind the trees, he backed you into a mass of them tucking you in the tight crevice there then kissed you again. You eagerly accepted the kiss. He felt too sublime against you not to. His lips dipped to your jaw then trailed to your neck where it was clear he was a man with a plan.

Henry groaned on your neck then nibbled your earlobe, “What are you doing to me, Xari? How have you taken every single brain cell I have and imprinted your face upon them? How have you touched my skin and made it impossible for me to see anyone else doing it? How have you come here and tortured me so?”

You could hear the yearning in his voice. It was overwhelming, making you want to give in completely to him no matter the consequences. You were speechless. sensing this, he placed a chaste kiss at the tip of your nose then took your hand again and led you through the maze of trees. When you emerged, you saw the spread of rides before you just waiting for you both to let loose like children. McArthur stood just at the large Birch a few feet away with his back turned to you.

“Your highness, the queen said she can manage the rest of the event with the dignitaries and the press and princess Jemma said she will take point with the children and citizens. They are both instructing you to play the role of the proper host to out palace guest,” McArthur informed.

You pinched your lips. You knew what a set up sounded like. You couldn’t help but wonder why they were seemingly pushing him to entertain you. Before you could think any further, Henry looped your arm through his and led you across the field. McArthur handed Henry a newsboy hat and a dark scarf to replace his royal blue one he was currently wearing. Once he was disguised, you scoffed because while it gave him a little more coverage you were sure his people knew him thoroughly and would easily spot you. McArthur handed you a large wide brimmed hat that gave you full coverage from every angle.

“To protect your privacy, Lady Thornton,” McArthur clarified.

You smiled as you put it on. “Thank you, McArthur.

A few minutes later you were seated in a ride called Santa’s Sleigh which was similar to those back and forth rocking pirate ships only it was led by the reindeers with Santa in the back.

“Feel free to scream your highness, I will allow everyone to think it is me.”

“I do not scream Lady Thornton, however, if you make it worth my while I will be the loudest in the land.”

You giggled and enjoyed the ride teasing him the entire time. Your interaction was so natural it almost felt unreal. Though he didn’t touch you above your waist, his thigh remained pressed to yours no matter what. By the fourth ride, you’d deduced it was purposely done. Knowing that you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Ride after ride you laughed, joked and teased one another. Ride after ride he made sure to keep some part of your bodies touching. Ride after ride you exchanged flirtatious glances that only increased your body temperature. It may have been twenty or so degrees out, but you were a sweltering ninety-nine degrees.

“This is your favorite ride?”

Henry’s questioning eyes were glued to the carousel that was decked with reindeers, sacks of Santa’s presents, giant boulder like forms of coal, Santa’s mailbox and other notable Christmas decorations. The sun had now set and the lights that bathed the ride made it seem so magical. This entire country was plotting against you here, you thought to yourself.

“Sure is.”

“Then, shall we?”

Like a six your old child rather than a grown ass woman, you scampered toward the ride then walked around it trying to decide the best figurine. It was a tough choice, but you ended up picking a reindeer which had Henry choosing the same one beside yours. Before he climbed on, he took the time to carefully buckle you into the harness tightening the straps as needed. As he did so, his hands touched your waist and hips and from the look on his face you knew this too was purposely done.

“Be careful your highness. You are very close to alerting the outside world to just how horny you are.”

The smirk he wore slipped and his brows furrowed.

“Is that what you think I am?”

His voice was tight btu other than that it gave nothing away.

“Um—isn’t it true?”

His jaw clenched and a scowl fell across his lips. Backing away, he claimed onto his own reindeer but didn’t bother buckling the straps. A cold breeze engulfed you making you feel the bitter coldness for the first time. Had you said something wrong?

The carousel went round and round sending you and Henry up and down, but he didn’t speak at any point. Instead, he held onto the pole while staring off into the distance. You allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments then when you turned to speak to him, you found his eyes already on you.

“Something wrong?”

Henry opened his mouth to speak but shook his head instead. You didn’t believe him. He definitely had something to say but you didn’t push him.

“Why is the carousel your favorite ride?”

You smirked then shook your head. “It just is.”

“Even if it was not obvious you were lying, I would not believe that. Come on tell me.”

“You won’t laugh?”

“I might.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your look was met with a hearty chuckle.

“Come on tell me.”

Hugging the pole of the reindeer tighter, you rested the side of your head on it, looking at him. “When I was about 8, I always saw it when looked so—pretty. It was usually the only ride that looked so—magical no matter what time of day or where I went. My father told me that it was a portal to a magical world. He said there was always one sometimes two chosen figures that were spelled to open the portal but only those destined to find it could. So, whenever I saw a carousel, I made it a point to ride it hoping to find the right figure to unlock the portal and take me away.”

The smile Henry wore was an adoring one. “That may be the cutest image ever. An 8-year-old you climbing onto these things hoping it opened a portal to another world.”

You nodded. “My parents indulged me, I was lucky. As I got older, I grew out of the heavy belief there was a magical portal and began to see how beautiful and romantic carousels were and went to realizing that perhaps they were magical after all, but not because of going to another world but how they made you feel and the memories you could make with those who matter while on them.”

You hadn’t meant to spill so much to him. Glancing at him, you tried not to cringe realizing his eyes were glued to you. However, the longer he stared at you the more you felt like jumping off the ride and running back to the maze of trees.

“So how many memories have you made with those who matter on one of these?”

You smirked then shrugged. “One or two.”

His huff made you pinch your lips in an effort to not laugh. “Interesting.”

Making your best innocent face, you turned the question back onto him. “

“And you?”

“I feel like you are the one who will laugh at me here.”

“Why?”

“Because this—this is the first carousel I have ridden with anyone—leisurely, well that was not family that is.

Your eyes widened. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Oh my goodness, Henry—am I your first?”

His smile was mischievous. “It would appear so, Lady Thornton.”

You bit your bottom lip then smiled widely. You didn’t know why you felt so prideful. It wasn’t like it was something that mattered or something that reflected on you in any possible way.

“Well, you are my first prince in a magical fairytale country that I’ve been on one of these with,” you began pausing to contemplate if you should say the rest of the sentence. “And this just may be my favorite ever.”

His cheeks flamed and you couldn’t help but smile. Then when his smile stretched bigger than you’d seen, your heart couldn’t bare it. He was too damn cute.

“Mine too,” Henry muttered a little above a whisper knowing that you’d catch it.

If cloud nine was the highest point one’s spirit could reach you were ebbing onto cloud 10. There was no need to speak for the rest of the ride. You and Henry rode it once, then twice but neither of you seemed quite ready to get off. After a fourth go round, the two of you walked around the park taking in the different games and events that were scattered about. You’d wanted to try the skating rink but didn’t want to expose him to the eyes of everyone around due to the openness of the rink, so you opted for other lowkey options for entertainment. You chatted about a plethora of things never remining on any subject long because you had so much in common that always branched out to other topics.

When you saw the actual reindeers, you lost it and scurried over to pet and baby talk them. While they were massive, you couldn’t help but find them adorable. You fed one a carrot and squealed at how affectionate it was. When you turned to make a puppy face at Henry, you found him snapping pictures of you with his phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At the urging of the reindeer master, you climbed into the sleigh that was decked out as if it truly were Santa’s sleigh and posed for the professional photos. As they snapped away you looked to Henry trying to coax him into the sleigh with you. It didn’t take long before he climbed in and smiled for the pictures with you. It felt normal to do this with him, normal to be around one another like this. A massive bubble in your chest screamed of caution and reservation so loudly that your head had no other choice but to register the warning.

After a few more photos, McArthur motioned for Henry’s attention which had him jumping out of the sleigh and stepping off to the side where both of them spoke in hushed tones. You prepared to climb down from the sleigh but as you did you happened to glance off to the right where you saw Freddie watching you. The rage and hatred in her eyes could not be missed and for a second you panicked. When you saw her raise a gun in her hand, your eyes widened. Before you could make a noise or move, a loud “pop” echoed through the park. You fully expected to feel the pain of the bullet and braced yourself, unable to move.

Instead, the pain never came. What did unfold was pure chaos. Several loud “neighs” boomed through the air then a forceful jerk. The action sent you hurling backward landing in a crumped heap on the seat of the sleigh. There were screams in the park and you watched the reindeers panic, colliding with each other as if they were fighting. Antlers thwacked together making it sound as if trees themselves were splintering around you. Henry made a move toward the sleigh but was stopped by his protective detail that was now circling him and locking him down, ready to take any stray bullet for him.

Within seconds, the reindeer that was harnessed to the sleigh you were in took off.

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

With terror, you watched as the unmanned runaway sleigh bound across the park not caring where it went. Everywhere people dashed out of its way trying to save themselves. All you could do was watch from your scrunched position, holding on for dear life as you prayed this was not how you died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#crown for two fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill au #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #black fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #cheesy christmas fic #henry cavill x black ofc #royalty au

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silversatoru · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i just started followed you and i love your works :)) could i request a smutty fushiguro megumi drabble/fic where he realizes he has a daddy kink?

daddy?

a/n: hi you are so sweet thank you!!! n the idea of megumi realizing he has a daddy kink is so fucking cute lmao i have been losing my mind over this idea,,,

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you call a classmate daddy in order to smuggle some homework answers and accidentally awaken a full blown daddy kink in your usually shy boyfriend

tags/warnings: daddy kink (obviously), mild manhandling, fingering

w/c: 1.6k

you really thought people would be more mature when you got to college,, or at least you hoped they would be. unfortunately, you’ve never been more wrong.

you had the most annoying busy-work assignment due tomorrow — and of course it wasn’t hard, but it was just so damn time consuming and you didn’t feel like doing it. but this is where the class group chat you were in comes in handy; you planned to ask if anyone had the answers but someone else had already beat you to it.

and then some cocky asshole who did the homework agreed to send the answers under one condition: he wanted someone to call him daddy. it was so stupid and horribly immature but this wasn’t any cocky asshole; it was a smart cocky asshole, and his answers were definitely reliable.

now, you weren’t a desperate woman, but this homework was a real pain in the ass and daddy was nothing but a word — so why not?

pls send the answers daddy, your thumbs danced across your phone and hit send before you could even think twice. a few moments later a picture of all the assignment answers came through the chat — success.

and now you could go enjoy a night out with your friends instead of wasting your time on that pointless shit. your boyfriend megumi had been waiting outside for you in his car, ready to pick you up and go to a house party a few streets up. neither of you were big party people but when your best friends nobara and yuuji were the ones throwing the party, you were obligated to attended.

megumi seemed a little off when you first hopped in the passengers seat, his facial features even more stoic than they usually were. you tried starting conversation a few times, but it was to no avail. something was clearly bothering him but he was refusing to talk about it — and then it finally clicked in your head:

“oh my god! this is about the daddy thing isn’t it?” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when you realized megumi was in that group chat too.

his eyes rolling in annoyance and his continued silence was all you needed to confirm your theory.

“come on, gumi, i was just getting the assignment answers so we could have fun tonight,” you pouted.

“yeah i know, i just don’t really like you saying that kind of stuff to other people,” he finally spoke up, his eyebrows scrunched together in distaste.

“fine, you’re right, i shouldn’t have done it. but it’s not like you have a fucking daddy kink or anything, so relax a little,” you let out a sigh and leaned back into the seat.

and he silently agreed with you — there was no way that he had a daddy kink, right?

the rest of the car ride was mildly awkward but some of the tension between the two of you had finally settled. you wrapped your hand in his as the two of you entered the house, greeting a couple friends on the way in.

after grabbing some drinks and hanging around the entrance for a few minutes you released megumi’s hand from your own.

“i’m gonna go find nobara quick, okay? try to relax and enjoy yourself a little bit,” you flashed him a smile and then stood up on your toes so you could whisper the next part into his ear, “see you in a few, daddy”.

you figured that if the word bothered him so much when you said it to other people, you’d like see how he’d react when you said it to him. and it took everything in you not to burst into a fit of laughter when you saw the stunned look across his face.

you were laughing, but megumi found your comment to be anything but funny. his heart rate quickened and suddenly his jeans felt tight and — oh fuck, maybe he did have a daddy kink.

he grabbed your wrist and yanked you down the hall, pulling you into a guest bedroom and locking the door behind him. you couldn’t contain yourself when you started to connect the dots — his shocked expression and the obvious boner in his pants made it very clear.

“holy shit, gumi, you do have a daddy kink don’t you?” you giggled, reaching up to wrap your hands around his neck.

he gave you an annoyed and embarrassed look, as if he was ashamed of it or something. but you couldn’t let him feel like that, not when the idea excited you just as much as it excited him.

“you want me to call you daddy? hm? moan it into your ears and beg for you? we could try it right now; that is why you drug me into this room, right?” you caressed the side of his flushed face, his eyes getting darker the more you spoke.

he gave you a quick nod and then the two of you collided together, messy kisses being scattered from your lips to your collarbone and everywhere in between. megumi was slow to start but once you had him going there was no holding him back. he broke off the kiss after a few heated minutes and before you could even catch your breath he gave you a rough shove that sent you falling to the bed.

he stared down at you with a brand new fire in his eyes, and it was fucking hot. if you knew calling someone random guy daddy would have awakened this in him, you would have done it forever ago.

in a matter of minutes his skin was hot against yours, your clothes nothing but a heap on the floor. his kisses were sloppy and rough, his head clouded with lust as he relished in his newfound turn-on. he wanted to have complete control over you, he wanted you to beg him for everything, and he wanted to hear you whimper the word daddy over and over.

he snaked two of his long fingers down to your clit and rubbed a few rough circles that made your legs twitch in anticipation. they then lowered to your entrance, his eyes widening when he felt the amount of slick that had already accumulated. you felt a warm redness flush across your face in slight embarrassment — it was kind of pathetic how quickly his shift in attitude went straight to between your legs.

knowing that you liked his newfound dominance sent a whole new wave of confidence coursing through megumi. his usually gentle fingers slid through your entrance with an entirely new force, causing your core to clench and your breath to catch in your throat. a disgusting array of squelches and moans quickly filled the air, your hands desperately grasping onto megumi’s body. he was delving his fingers deep into your caverns at a completely merciless pace and it was earning him the prettiest moans from your mouth.

“feels so good, gumi,” you mumbled as he had you squirming and whining underneath him.

“no- no i want you to say the other thing,” he pressed his forehead to yours and let his eyes rest shut as he savored every last one of your beautiful sounds.

you’d gotten so caught up in the pure bliss that was megumi’s touch that you’d completely forgotten about how this all started — the daddy kink. but now that he reminded you, you were gonna lean into it hard. you wanted to put on only the best performance for your wonderful boyfriend.

“your fingers feel so good, daddy, but your cock would feel better,” you cooed in his ear, sending electricity down his spine and straight to his dick.

“is that what you want?” he leaned back and opened his eyes to look at you, sliding his sticky fingers out of your soaking cunt.

“yes, daddy, please,” you begged for him, “i want you to fuck me”.

you could have swore you saw his dick twitch and his eyes get wide at your words, but you hardly had time to think about it before his two slimy fingers were shoved into your mouth. you shameless sucked them clean, running your tongue around and between them while megumi used his other hand to position himself at your entrance.

you flinched at the slight pain when he sheathed himself inside you — your body taking it’s time to adjust to the size. sure his fingers felt good, but you felt so much fucking fuller with his cock stretching your walls. the way he thrusted stuffed you so perfectly that you could barely even form words, your eyes rolling back into your head.

the two of you had sex on many occasions, but there was fresh intensity and passion flowing between you this time. your fingernails were digging claw marks into his arms and you could barely contain the array of moans leaking from your lips. between your noises and the creaking off the bed you were grateful for the loud music blaring through the house.

megumi even manhandled you a bit more than usual — tossing you around and pushing you into the positions he wanted you in. if he managed to work up the confidence he’d order you around too, and you’d just respond with whines and the occasional “yes, daddy”. the phrase was simple but every time those words left your pretty mouth tiny fireworks went off in his head.

when he murmured the words come for me, you were hopeless — a pitiful, whimpering mess who couldn’t do anything but mumble incoherent phrases all stemming from the word daddy.

it was the best fucking orgasm of your life — and it was all because you’d been too lazy to do your homework earlier.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro smut #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi x reader #smut #daddy

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 4 years ago

Text

Only For You - h.s.

Summary:��H is usually pretty in tune with his body, but he’s apparently not very good at picking up when he’s getting sick.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of covid, plus me taking a guess at how covid testing in the US and at events works so sorry for any potential inaccuracies, I mostly used my knowledge of Aus but honestly its described all very generally

A/N: this took longer than I thought it was going to because I started and then got sick a couple days in :/ I’m still sick but she is done! If you have any requests pls send them my way!

Masterlist /// Send me an ask!

Harry is never sick.

He was so strict in his fitness and health, his immune system was better than almost anyone’s you knew. You were pretty sure someone could cough directly into his mouth and it would somehow boost his immune system by giving it a chance to exercise. There had to be fifty times over the course of your relationship so far you were sure you were going to pass on whatever illness you had acquired at the time. You always waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, for him to exhibit your exact symptoms and to be awash with guilt at his sickly state, but it never did.

It is such a rare occurrence, in fact, that he can tell you exactly the last time he came down with something. It was August 2019, he was in LA, and he had ended up missing two Fine Line album release related meetings. He remembered it because you had been in New York, tied up in projects of your own. You had pushed your flight up as a surprise to get home and take care of him, but by the time you touched down he had already been on the mend, and was sat in a rescheduled meeting when you opened the door to your shared home.

He could not recall, however, the earliest warning signs of a flu coming on, having experienced them so infrequently.

He dismissed the heavy tired feeling that had settled upon him, certain it was simply the aftereffects of intensive Grammy rehearsals. True to his perfectionist tendencies, he had been tireless in his efforts to make this one of his best performances and had been spending hours practicing a song you were pretty sure he could nail in his sleep. You said nothing of the fact that you thought he perhaps was spending more time than strictly necessary on this, of course, never wanting to undermine his process or invalidate his feelings of being under intense pressure. You just assured him you thought he was amazing and provided opinions and input whenever he asked it of you. He was overworking himself, but he was not deterred until the lights went down after his extremely successful (and extremely sexy, if you did say so yourself) performance.

Two days later, he was sure his hangover had extended over into a second day as he become aware of a dull ache in his head while awaking from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his face as he rolled towards you, pulling you against his chest. He breathed deeply, cursing himself for drinking so much and sleeping so little only momentarily before thinking, hey, how many times do you win a Grammy? You stirred at his movement, eyes fluttering open only slightly before you shut them again and snuggled deeper into his chest. You sighed in contentment, loving nothing more than the comfortable feeling you can only get waking up in the morning, still on the edge of sleep. It had always been one of your favourite things, and it was only ever made better by waking up in Harry’s arms.

“I hate getting old,” he mutters into your hair, pressing a kiss where his lips had tickled your forehead.

“What?” You laughed at his unsolicited statement.

“Two-day hangovers are supposed to be reserved for after you hit thirty. But clearly, I’m older than I think I am because they have come for me and I am not enjoying it.”

You wriggled up in his embrace, so that you were face to face, giggling at him as you did say. “Oh god, do you think we should start thinking about retiring?”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old!” He tightened his grip on you as he exclaimed in indignation.

“I mean what can I possibly say, H? Two-day hangover? You’ve basically got a foot in the grave,” you jested, but leaned in to peck his cheek at his faux sour expression.

In response, he released his grip on you and rolled away until he was at the very opposite edge of the bed in a big huff. You only laughed harder at his antics. You followed him to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind and placing gentle kisses to the side of his neck.

“Darling, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, this two day hangover has nothing to do with the fact that you are getting older and more to do with the fact that you were working yourself to the bone for a month and then partied like the world was ending?” You pressed another lingering kiss to his neck. “Or perhaps like someone who had just won a Grammy?” A smile broke over your face at the memory, a fresh wave of pride washing through you, somehow still managing to leave you buzzing.

“Nope, I refuse to hear that. My youthful body is supposed to be stronger than any party, even an I-just-won-a-Grammy party.” You snorted in his ear, completely unsurprised by his steadfast stubbornness.

“Alright then old man,” you rolled away from him and hopped out of bed.

“Hey,” he called out, both at the jab and your exit from bed.

“Since my big shot Grammy winning, senior citizen boyfriend is still feeling a bit dusty I suppose I’ll bring him a coffee in bed,” you sing out over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen, craving the caffeine yourself.

He knew you were making fun of him to highlight how melodramatic you thought he was being. Each comment about him being old was really made to tell him just how young he was and how little you thought he had to worry about.

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to remain motionless in the warm comfy bed but having no choice to get up and make his way to the bathroom before he could enjoy his coffee in bed. (And maybe some lazy morning sex, he was sure that would help relieve some symptoms). His whole body felt heavy as he rolled out of bed, his limbs and shoulders feeling almost as though they were made of lead.

His brow scrunched as he slowly made his way to the toilet to relieve himself. This really was some day two hangover, he thought. I don’t care what y/n thinks, I’m pretty sure this is one of those moments where you realise your prime is coming to an end.

He flinched as the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass of the bathroom window hit his face, instantly doubling the force of his headache. He grumbled and scrunched his eyes until they were nearly shut, attempting to minimise the light infiltrating his vision. He did his business as quickly as his protesting body would allow.

By the time he had returned to bed and bundled himself back under the covers the kettle had boiled and you were on your way back to your room. You shuffled along slowly, pausing every two steps to stop your nearly full mugs from spilling over the edge. Harry loved to point out the coffee drips that you left along the floor in your shared home so frequently. They were spread far and wide, and in fairness to you, most of the time you didn’t realise you had done it, else you would have wiped it up immediately.

“H?” you called softly, as you looked up from the mugs to see only a Harry sized lump under the doona as evidence that he was even there.

When you received only an, “Mmm?” in response you continued your slow spillage-avoiding pace up to his bed side table, placing the cup down gently.

“Are you feeling okay baby?” you kneeled down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face.

“Jus’ tired,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

This shocked you somewhat. He’s always been a morning person, and never tended to sleep in two days in a row. The two of you had spent the morning in bed yesterday, having only crawled in in the (not even that) early hours of the morning and spent the rest of the day lazing about the apartment, nursing respective hangovers. Even with complaints of his hangover extending over into a second day, you had expected him to be itching to throw himself back into his routine, not curled up in bed still feeling shitty.

“You can back to sleep,” you assured, even though he seemed to already be halfway there. “Your coffee’s there if you want some.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to it, closing the door softly on your way out.

Two hours later, Harry stirs once more from his sleep. His throat is dry as a bone, and his once dull headache is now pounding. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow and his eyes fall to his now cold coffee. He reaches over and takes a gulp, hoping to ease the feeling in his throat. Is not uncommon for him to awaken with a dryness to his throat, he often finds a hot coffee is enough to solve the problem, but alas, he is desperate enough to settle for the cold one before him for now. Instead of the relief he is craving, a burst of pain shoots through his throat each time he swallows a mouthful. He coughs as he places the mug back down, unwilling to have another sip.

And oh Jesus, it finally hits him. He’s sick.

All the signs he had shrugged off now became blaringly obvious to him in retrospect. And oh fuck.

Alarm bells go off in his brain as he registers the risk of what exactly this could be. He scrambles for his phone on his bedside table.

Harry: Don’t come upstairs.

You glance down at your phone as you feel the buzz of the notification. You had spent the morning pottering around the house, catching up on little chores the two of you had neglected over the past few days in the Grammy busy-ness and subsequent hangover. Happy with your efforts, you had settled back into having a lazy morning and were watching television on the couch quietly.

“Harry?” you call out in confusion as you read his text, already pausing the TV and standing up, intending to do the exact opposite of following his advice.

You can’t have made it three steps before he’s calling you. The wave of confusion is soon followed by one of extreme worry as you pick up the phone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t come up I’m sick,” he spoke hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

“Darling, it could be covid you can’t come up here,” he was cursing himself on the other end of the line. He should have been paying more attention to what his body was trying to tell him. Shouldn’t have been risking you like this. If he had it, he was sure he had already infected you too and guilt gnawed away at him.

This stops you in your tracks. You hesitate, you do. But ultimately, you know if he has covid, you’re probably already infected. If he does have it, which you are praying he doesn’t because young as he is, healthy as he is, there is always a risk. The worst running through your mind. If the worst were to happen, you would curse yourself until the day you died for not going to him right now.

“It’s not covid,” you tell him firmly.

“Baby-“

“Your tests from before the Grammy’s were negative, and we should be getting more test results back any minute that will be clean too,” you’re on the move again, absolute in your resolution. The both of you, along with all the other attendees of the ceremony, had been tested both before and after. They were meant to text each of you with your results any minute (or call, if they were positive, but that was a possibility you were trying to put aside).

“Even so, we can’t risk it until we get the results.” At the sound of your footsteps on the stairs he spoke your name sternly, halting your steps again.

“Harry,” you countered, matching his tone.

“Please don’t fight me on this. If you’re so sure that the result is going to be negative, and that they’re going to come in any second,” he pauses to cough, lungs and throat protesting with each word he speaks, “then a little while in bed by myself won’t kill me.”

“But-“

“Darling, please. If it is covid, I’ll never forgive myself for not doing everything in my power to try and keep you from getting it too,” the quiet desperation in his voice is the only thing that could break your resolve.

With a long exhale, you turned back down the stairs but kept the phone to your ear.

“Fine,” you huffed, “but only because I was always taught to respect my elders.”

“See that’s the good news,” he half laughed, half coughed at the exhalation of breath, “I’m not an old man with a two-day hangover, just a young man with an unspecified illness.”

“Do you still have your smell and taste?” you asked worriedly.

“I could definitely taste the cold ass coffee I just drank,” he rasped. He paused for a beat, hearing only the rustling of sheets. “And our bed still smells like you,” you heard the smile behind the comment, appreciating his sweet reference to the love he often professes he has for the way you smell.

“Sometimes I feel like it’s nothing you’re putting on, and sometimes I think it’s everything you’re putting on plus just, you. There’s no other smell like it and I wish I could just bottle it up and have it forever. Bloody aphrodisiac,” he had once told you.

“And you’re not running a fever?” You chewed the inside of your lip as you fired questions at him, a bad habit that reared its head when you were worried, stressed or concentrating hard.

On his end of the line, he felt his forehead for warmth. “Umm,” he considered it, “I’m not sure. Probably not.” He was actually pretty sure he had the beginning of one, but he could tell you were freaking out and he didn’t want to worry you any further until he heard for sure.

“I’m going to grab you a thermometer and some cold and flu tablets,” Harry immediately started to protest but you didn’t let him start. “I’ll put a mask on and just leave them outside the door. I’ll grab you some water and something to eat too. I’m not just leaving you sick up there with nothing.”

He sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

You scoffed. “Of course not, I let you win the last one not more than five minutes ago.”

He sighed once more, and you rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend. “Fine, but you have to be in and out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you leaned the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed what you needed for him.

“I’m not joking, y/n. You have to be quick.”

You bit your tongue, refraining from snapping back. Did he seriously think you were stupid? You knew he didn’t, he was just sick and stressed about the situation, but that didn’t stop the flare of annoyance that burst through your chest. You shook it off, knowing it was misplaced.

“Okay I’m going to put the phone down so I can pop a mask on and run up,” luckily, you had a million masks around the house ready to go.

“Kay,” he muttered, eyes feeling droopy all over again.

You pull your mask on, and with arms full of supplies dashed up the stairs. Once you arrived at the door, you placed down the cold medication, water and thermometer as well as the banana you had snatched off the kitchen counter before turning and running back down the stairs.

As soon as you’re back down the stairs, you’re pulling your mask off and putting the phone back to your ear. You faintly hear the close of your bedroom door, deducing Harry had grabbed everything.

“I’m back,” you acknowledged your presence on the phone.

“Thank you for that, my love.”

Your phone dinged in your ear, indicating a new text message. You pulled it away from your ear to examine the contents of the text.

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“They just texted me my covid test results, they’re negative.” Everyone had been tested upon their exit of the Grammy afterparty.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You silently prayed that pause wasn’t caused by him examining another incoming call, suggesting his results were positive and required an actual conversation.

“Mine are negative too,” he exhaled, you could hear the relief in his voice.

“Oh, thank god,” you said, already turning to go back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I thought you were confident I didn’t have it,” he teased.

“Sorry somebody had to put on a brave face for Mr Worry Wart,” you teased right back. You hung up the phone as you reached the top step. Turning to the left and opening the door to your room.

You stride over to the bed wordlessly and climb in on your side, instantly wrapping both arms around him. He relished the embrace. You loved to poke fun at him, but sometimes the humour was just a way for you to mask how you were really feeling about things and deflect. Harry usually doesn’t point it out but he’s always aware of it.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice still croaky.

“I love you, too,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You stayed like that for a moment longer before you swung into action, full nurturing mother bear mode activated.

“Now, have you taken your temperature? Taken some of the cold and flu tablets?”

At the shake of his head you frowned at him. “Come on then. You do that while I go make you a nice hot tea to soothe your throat. And a box of tissues,” you added at the sight of him sneezing practically hard enough to shake the room.

So back down to the kitchen you went for the third time that day, grabbing him both the tea, the tissues and a nice hearty bowl of porridge, figuring it would be gentle on his throat. “Temperature?” you asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of your doorway.

“No fever,” he punctuated with a cough.

You frowned as you watched it happen, his eyes were rimmed red, his nose beginning to run. He sat up in bed as you handed him the bowl of porridge. You placed the tea down so you could also hand him the box of tissues that had been tucked up under your arm.

“Thank you so much for all this, angel. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, I’ve got a cold, I’m not bed bound,” he grabbed my hand and traced the outside of my hand as he spoke.

“I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to do it. My baby’s feeling crappy I just want to do whatever I can to make him feel less so.” Even after all this time of being together, your cheeks flushed slightly at your sappy words. You meant them, of course, but intimacy was still not one of your strong suits. The way you were raised lacked those kinds of affirmations and endearments, and was never modelled practically in your parent’s relationship. It left you both craving it, and feeling uncomfortable when it actually occurred. With both experience and Harry’s help you had gotten better at it, but you still weren’t 100% there yet. He knew one day you would be, though, and he was so proud to see how much progress you had made. Even if you couldn’t always see it.

Hearing those words from you, was just one more indication at how far you’ve come, and it warmed not only his heart, but his whole chest. With his grip on your hand, he gave you a slight tug, encouraging you to lean forward. Just as you had five minutes earlier, he presses a kiss to your cheek, craving your lips but knowing he can’t have them right now.

“You’re too good to me,” he praised as you pulled away reluctantly, giving him space to enjoy his breakfast while it was still warm.

He expected a joking, I know, in response but instead he receives a serious, “There is no such thing as good too to you. You deserve the world.” You don’t break eye contact with him, even as he is too shocked at your response to form one of his own. “But all I got you was this bowl of porridge sorry babe,” you broke the tension, pulling your hand from his.

“Where are you going now?” He pouts at you as you grab the half empty coffee mug and make your way out of the room.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you assure him, already planning how else you are going to fuss over him. He has to be well to go to London to start filming his new movie soon, you reason with yourself. But really, you know he could have nothing coming up and you could be the busiest you’ve ever been, and you would still play nurse for him.

By ‘right back’ he assumed you meant in half an hour, because his mug and bowl are both empty by the time you return, and he is nearly drifting back off to sleep. He is still somewhat upright, but slumped back into his pillow, head lolling to the side slightly, directed towards the door almost as though is watching and waiting for you. While still conscious, his blinks are becoming slower and slower, reminiscent of a baby. You coo at his adorable sleepy state, the moment tugs at your chest so strongly it is almost physically painful. Sometimes, the magnitude of your love for him nearly sweeps you off your feet. You just feel so damn lucky to have these wonderfully domestic moments with him. To see him like this, to be his person that gets to take care of him. While he is a rockstar and you get to do all sorts of crazy things with him that most people dream of (like for instance, watching him perform at and accept a Grammy), you love doing everyday life with him.

“It’s not quite sleep time yet, baby,” you spoke gently, hoping not to startle him too much.

He peeled his eyes open and pouted at you once more. “Why not?”

“Because it’s nice, long, hot, steaming shower time,” his frown deepened, clearly not wanting to move. “I promise you, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“You promise?” He refused to wipe the pout from his face, really stepping into being babied.

“I promise, now up you get,” you offered him both hands to help him up.

“Fine,” he groaned as he took your hands, and you pulled him up.

As soon as he was upright, he wrapped both arms around you and held you tight. He allowed himself a few short seconds before pulling away, not wanting to get you sick too. Even if it wasn’t covid, he still wanted his love well.

You shepherded him into the bathroom, where he winced once more at the brighter lighting. His eyes were always more sensitive to light when he had the flu. You turned the shower on for him while he got undressed, before turning to pull the blinds closed without him breathing a single word of complaint. His heart swelled with love for you for the hundredth time that day. To be loved by you was to be seen. He didn’t need to use his voice to be understood (though that communication obviously had its place).

“Take your time baby, let the steam help get all the bad stuff out,” you gave him a little smile before leaving, closing the door behind you to allow the steam to build up within the space.

Harry let out a sigh as he stepped into the stream of hot steaming water. You were right as ever, the steam helped clear him out somewhat, and even just feeling clean helped him to feel better already. He relished the heat and the soothing feeling of the water, massaging his scalp with shampoo as he began to wash up from head to toe.

He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he reluctantly turned the shower off and stepped into a big fluffy towel. He was much quicker in drying himself than he had been in the rest of his shower routine, eager to rug up in a jumper and some sweats (and some of those thick soft socks you bought him for winter).

He swung the en suite door open, contemplating where he left his comfy winter clothes last when he stops at the sight before him.

You’re putting the last pillowcase on, having changed the sheets completely. His breakfast dishes are cleared, replaced with a hot steaming bowl of vegetable soup and his bottle of water. You’ve dug the humidifier out of the cupboard as well and you’ve got it all set up and running for him. The book he was currently reading was picked up from its previous place on the living room coffee table and waiting for him on your pillow. The exact clothes he was about to grab were sitting at the edge of the bed, laid out ready for him.

“You’re an actual angel, ya know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He has no idea what he did in a past life to get so lucky. The success of the music, he can go to bed each night feeling like he has done a lot to earn. He’s worked hard for a long time, and while he accredited a good portion of it all to luck, he knew he wasn’t talentless or undeserving. With you, however, he had simply won the lottery. You weren’t a perfect person, but you were his perfect person. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to feel deserving of you.

“Only for you,” you say softly.

He strides over to you, holding his towel to keep it from falling as he went. He presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters an, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you peer up at him. “Now get those on,” you gesture towards his clothes, “before your soup gets cold.”

“Where did the soup come from?” He asks as starts to shrug his towel off and pull his clothes on.

“Where did you think I went earlier?” you referenced your half hour long disappearance, having been downstairs chopping up and preparing vegetables to go into the homemade soup.

“Oh, angel,” he breathed, “you really are the best.”

“Oh stop. Don’t act like all of this is not exactly what you do every time I’m sick. Which is far more often than you are, I might add.” You weren’t wrong, he did baby you just as much if not more.

“You’re still the best,” he refused to relent.

“Yeah, yeah,” you end the conversation, not being able to handle too many compliments.

He lets it slide, knowing he could compliment you further and ask you to really hear what he was saying, because he meant it with his entire being. But you were doing so much for him, and he really was tired so he didn’t bombard you with more praise than you desired.

Once he was dressed, he hopped back under the covers and sat up with his soup. He didn’t have the appetite to finish it, but he knew as much of it as he could handle would do him some good.

You jumped into the shower yourself, wanting to feel as clean as the sheets did when you got into bed with him. By the time you were out of the shower and into your own pair of fresh comfy clothes, Harry had finished most of the bowl of soup and had set the remainder aside.

“Thank you so much, angel,” your cheeks tinted pink at the purposeful repetition of that particular pet name.

“Don’t mention it,” you crawled under the covers with him, picking up his book from your pillow. “Now, where were you up to?”

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“In your book, where were you up to?”

“Why?”

“So, I can read it to you, obviously.”

“Is that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you think I’m suddenly incapable of reading it myself?” He questioned, even though he was practically preening internally at the thought of your sweet voice reading his novel aloud to him. It was a beautiful novel, filled with rich descriptions and he just knew it would sound lovely rolling off your tongue, but you had already done so much for him today it was hardly for of him to let you offer this without giving you an out.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, I just know your eyes hurt when you’re sick and I can imagine it makes it hard to focus on the words. Plus, I always fancied a career in audiobooks,” you actually really wanted to do this for him, not viewing it as an inconvenience at all. In fact, you would probably find yourself disappointed if he told you he would rather read it himself.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” he looked you in the eyes, gauging your expression.

“I want to,” you promised.

“About page 150, you might have to read the first sentence to check.”

So, you began reading, until his eyes grew heavier and his eyes drooped. Slowly but surely, he drifted off into the realm of peaceful deep sleep.

Not before, of course, he muttered, more than half asleep, “I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

Text

the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

2K notes · View notes

lavendertales · 3 years ago

Text

Cyare: Chapter 10**

pairing: Mand’alor!Din Djarin x Mandalorian!f!reader with name

summary: you have to retrieve something from Mos Pelgo, and the common acquaintance you and Mando share is nothing but another awakening for Mando.

word count: 7k

WARNINGS: face sitting, multiple orgasms, jealous and dom!Mando.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @bestintheparsec

series masterlist | AO3

Concordia was infamous for its scorching heat. Most days were hot and unforgiving, but last night, rain fell down on Mandalore’s moon, cooling it down while bringing a peculiar feeling with it. Or so it seemed to you, at least.

As if something bad happened or was about to happen.

You spent the night tossing and turning, listening to the rain and letting your mind roam around freely, something which you only allowed to happen in the privacy of your own quarters, away from everyone else’s eyes. It all came back to Mando, his grip over your thighs and his mouth—goodness gracious, his mouth… so warm and soft and wet against your own wetness, taking out whatever frustrations you both had with a flick of his insatiable tongue. He was so warm, unlike anything else, and it tingled you all over, the slight stubble you felt spine-breaking.

The sensation lingers still, as if having an invisible grip over your nether area, as if Mando’s… marked you, somehow. It might seem silly to think of it that way, but the aftershock of Mando’s treatment over you remains intact under your skin, prickling at it for hours on end, turning you into a nervous and confused wreck.

The rain should’ve came as some sort of relief, but it didn’t. You even got up and decided to retouch your armor and repaint bits of it, but that did not help either. You abandoned the work outside and returned to your bedroom, hair and clothes slightly wet as you tried to dodge the raindrops.

It all came back to Mando, Mando and you, and the unspeakable things you did to each other in the hopes of helping the other. But it was no help. It was a hellish temptation, threatening to arise once again, but you had to remember to contain yourself. You had to force yourself, otherwise Mando could get in serious trouble. You really didn’t care what the potential repercussions would do to you; you already maintained a reputation of a traitor, an intimidating and harsh warrior, so what else was there to lose?

Mando.

You cared about him. In more than a professional way. Looking back on it, from that very first time he shied to touch you, his gloved hands grazing the surface of your skin. Albeit clothed, your skin burned and tingled at the bare touch. It was like nothing you ever felt. It was… daring, yet tender and curious and all you’ve known were meaningless affairs—fun, to be sure—but fast paced and sweaty, never taking the time to settle down and enjoy. Seems like all your life you’ve been on the run from everyone and everything. Only now, there was no running. You were in a safe space with plenty of responsibilities to keep you occupied, including that of an advisor. You were now Mando’s advisor.

I need you, he said.

You’re certain he meant it in the way that was said, nothing more or less. But your mind wouldn’t put it to rest. You couldn’t stop thinking of his words, of his mouth on you, so determined and harsh, yet caring in a peculiar way. You haven’t known him that long, perhaps three, four months. But you knew him. You knew his kind, you knew the type of man he was—you’ve encountered plenty like that in your lifetime. All they ever need is someone or something to release the pressure, always simmering right at the top, and they’ll show you their true colors. However, unlike those other vile men, Mando maintained his kindness and tenderness. Even in that heated moment when he took complete control over you and your bodily functions, he was still somewhat tender. He carried for those close to him, and whatever was going on with him right now, you knew it must’ve been bad enough that he reacted that way.

You couldn’t say you disliked it or were outraged by it.

In any way.

It was more than you could’ve ever imagined or hoped for. It was pleasure stripped down to its very core, pure ecstasy and high bliss. No one had ever took their time with you like that, even in their anger and frustration.

Eventually you get up while it’s still dark outside and make your way to your usual spot. At the very least, you know that watching the sunrise will calm you for a little while. The after-rain smell is distinct in the air, tickling your senses alive. You’re surprised to remark a silhouette sitting on the log you usually take, but there’s no need for you to even reach for your blaster. You notice the helmet right away, along with its respective beskar counterparts. You hold your breath, unsure if you should be in his vicinity or not.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” you say as softly as possible.

Mando doesn’t turn, nor does he make any gesture or sound. He simply waits for the sun to rise and lay its warm rays on the planet. So you hesitantly approach him, even though it’s somewhat chilly outside and you think you’d much rather convince him to remove all of that uncomfortable armor so you could warm each other up.

But the thought passes just as quickly as it enters your mind and eventually you do sit down, choosing the edge rather than the middle like you normally would. There’s a different kind of tension lingering in between you and Mando, the kind you do not particularly like.

The kind which brings along suffering.

Something’s changed, you realize. You can feel it pulsing beneath your skin, floating through your bloodstream. Something’s changed for him; he’s stiff like he was when you met him, quiet and despite the fact that you cannot read his face or body language, you just know he’s mad. It’s a mystery as to what or why that is and at this point, you know better than to pester him with inquiries. You choose to let him feel whatever he wants.

“Are you sure you told me everything about Mandalore’s history?” he suddenly asks.

You turn briefly to him, confused, and struggle to form an appropriate response in your head. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

Silence again. Now you’re more convinced he’s hiding something from you, the very source of his rushed and heated reaction from yesterday.

“Do you think I missed something?” you push.

Mando turns his helmet, barely, slightly, and in the poorly lit forest, the gesture sends shivers down your spine.

You care about him. So damn much.

What other explanation lies there when your skin feels tingly and afire when you can’t even see him and yet his every move is a core determinant of your entire mood?

“What about rules for the Mand’alor? What I am allowed to do and what I’m not.”

“Okay, we can go over that today if you’d like.”

“Fine.”

He gets up to leave just as the sun begins to rise, leaving you breathless and bewildered. There is too much speculation inside your head, too many what if’s and unanswered questions.

So much for watching the sunrise peacefully.

And not even Mando’s presence there with you provided you with any comfort. If anything, it made you restless and guilty for some reason.

Once the sun is fully up in the still cloudy sky, you make your way into the village center, finding a big crowd walking around aimlessly—at first. Then you realize they are all looking for something, perhaps personal belongings, and your gut feeling kicks in. But the more you assess the situation, the clearer it gets.

You huff, approaching Rina and Aiden, one of the other Mandalorians, who are keeping an eye on the apparent search party.

“Well?” you ask.

“Nothing too bad this time,” Aiden huffs, visibly displeased. “At least they didn’t clear us of food or anything.”

“You know Jawas only care about precious objects.”

“Unless they were imps,” Rina adds, just as grumpily.

Whenever Concordia was hit with heavy rain, all outdoor activities were put on pause and that provided Jawas and imps with the ideal opportunity to steal several items from the community. It wasn’t uncommon, and luckily it rained quite rarely, but it was still a long-term issue, especially if the missing items once belonged to any of the foundlings.

However it seems this time it’s not the case, and you can’t help but feel relieved.

“Anything missing from you two?” you ask Rina and Aiden, who both shake their heads in denial.

“What about you?”

“I haven’t checked.”

“What’s the matter?”

Mando’s coarse voice is the first thing you notice. Then you notice him. Just as he was less than an hour ago, in the mid-darkness, albeit now more communicative.

“Jawas. Or imps, we’re not sure,” Rina fills him in. “Whenever we have some rain or a storm, they take it as an opportunity to come and steal from us.”

“Anything missing?”

“Not much. Some clothes, but we’re still checking,” Aiden tells him.

Mando’s visor follows you as you go to your suite, and quickly resumes to Rina and Aiden. The latter assumes a solemn position, almost as if greeting Mando.

“Oh, this is Aiden Pavan,” Rina introduces him, to which the man bows slightly, much to Mando’s irritation.

Maker, how he hated all those customs and pleasantries.

“He’s one of our finest Mandalorians.”

“A pleasure to meet our new Mand’alor,” Aiden smiles.

Mando nods, unsure what else to say. He’s flustered and uncomfortable with all of that, but he can’t say anything against it anymore. He’s assumed the role and claimed it as his own.

“Well,” you begin your unsolicited announcement, “whether it was the imps or the Jawas, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Why not?” Aiden frowns.

“Because either way they got something valuable. They took my armor.”

Rina remains with her mouth ajar, and to a certain extent so does Aiden. The only one unaffected is, unsurprisingly, Mando. But then again, only because the beskar is such a harsh and cruel barrier between him and the world.

You do no effort to conceal your disappointment and anger, exhaling sharply. All the while, Mando studies behind you the helmet. You’ve been concealing the wrong things from him, but the promise of a future conversation soothed him in the slightest. What truly fazes him was the attraction towards you only growing stronger instead of the other way around. It makes alarms go off inside his mind: what is so fundamentally wrong with him that he finds himself craving to be around you more and more with each day, even when you keep things from him?

And the most alarming thing, perhaps, is the fact that his faith in your remains unbroken.

Perhaps the problem is just him. His unspoken anger, his poor expression skills.

“How come they got your armor?” Rina asks.

“I couldn’t sleep so I got up in the middle of the night to repaint it and I left it outside to dry since it wasn’t raining, and… here we are.”

You run your hands through your hair, the motion hypnotizing to a certain degree for Mando. He gulps, barely able to swallow his own saliva, and continues watching you.

“It’ll take us a while to make you a new one,” Aiden says, to which you grunt, loudly. “But it’s not impossible.”

“We gotta get some beskar in its incipient stage—“

“I might have a spare one.”

The idea hits you almost shockingly; it actually is a distant memory, one that feels blurred and you’re unsure if it’s a surefire plan to go dwelling in the past, but at the moment, it’s definitely better than roaming around without a purpose, angry.

“Where?”

“On—another planet.”

Rina’s frown deepens, but it’s proportional to how curious she has become. “How come you have another armor in another town, on another planet?”

“It’s a long story, okay? The point is, it might still be there. It better be, otherwise the guy is in serious trouble.”

“Oh! It’s a guy. Of course. Now I get it.”

You squint slightly. “It could be a girl.”

“I know, I’m just saying.”

Mando remains silent and weighs the situation. There’s something else igniting inside of him, something unforgiving and cruel. Safe to say he’s never felt this way before and he is not a fan of it. It’s almost monstrous how it roars inside of him, clawing beneath the chest. Of course you’d go exploring towns and planets and—people. He doesn’t know why he would’ve ever believed otherwise. Look at what you did for him. Without wanting anything in return, you laid your filthy mouth on him, pleased him to the verge of tears and you’ve shamelessly and unknowingly infiltrated his head, his body, more essential than air or blood.

Worst of all, you’ve infiltrated his heart, too. That warm sensation he gets whenever he sees you, whenever he’s around you, like he wants to see more and to have more from you and with you, it’s devouring him more with each day, tugging at his heart strings, pulsating with heat.

Mando snaps back to reality when he realizes the group split apart. He looks around confused for a few seconds before he takes notice of you.

“Where are you going?” he asks behind you.

“I’m going to get my armor.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

You stop, turning around exasperated at Mando. Whatever was on his mind, whatever problem he had that made him so irritable, it could be put on hold.

“Mos Pelgo. That’s where I was when I left the armor.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, your majesty.”

The mockery only spurs Mando on, tickling that dangerously big and monstrous feeling in his chest.

“You’re without any beskar on you and only a holster,” he says, making closer steps to you. “You might need protection.”

“Fine.”

“Besides, I know someone in Mos Pelgo.”

“You have friends?”

Mando’s visor turns threateningly at you, but you only purse your lips and stifle a chuckle whilst leading him to the ship.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you liked teasing Mando. It was beyond amusing. Maybe it was a hope that he’d get tired enough and apply the same treatment on you as he did last night.

But that was only a bold desire never to be achieved again. You know enough about Mando to understand that his patience is spread thin—which you can easily understand—and he’s not a fan of talking. Perhaps that was now his game. Let you figure out on your own what it was that set him ablaze last night and continues to mock him today still.

When you’re aboard the Crest, you fleetingly notice Mando staring around in awe. There’s something fond about that image, how he’s taking in the beauty of the ship, appreciating its impeccable state.

“You had a Razor Crest too, you said?” you speak somewhere behind him.

He pays you no attention whilst letting out a particularly affected “Yes.”

An idea strikes you, one that manages to bring out a coy smile on your lips, unbeknownst to him.

“You know, I have to check the weaponry before we land to Mos Pelgo, so why don’t you fly it?”

This time, Mando turns to face you; despite the helmet, you swear you can clearly see his face, surprised and speechless alike, and you do your best to not flash him a wide smile at the thought of seeing him in his element.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Should be more than familiar to you and I need a good pilot.”

Mando succumbs, resuming his position in the pilot’s seat. The moment he sits down, his whole body tingles and adrenaline kicks in. He already knows the buttons to press on the console, how to maneuver the joystick and which coordinates to set. You watch him do his thing, swiftly and precise, almost too endearing and explicit for your eyes to witness. A smile does leave your lips as you depart to check the weapons, thinking randomly of how little it took to make Mando happy.

The Crest gets lifted off of the ground and Mando flies it directly to Mos Pelgo, majestically floating through the airspace and then, with a powerful rumble beneath your feet, the ship goes into hyperspace. And then it’s so quiet your ears are pounding. The quiet is something you can handle, something you take joy in, but now, for probably the first time since you learned how to pilot, you are painfully aware of the silence surrounding you. More so because you are floating through hyperspace, in dead silence, with Mando on board. The lack of sounds makes it possible for you to think about ways in which you could fill the dead air, the noises you’d very much like to hear, and it begins to eat you from inside out.

You try to focus on the weapons instead. You clean them thoroughly, taking your sweet time only because you know that this way you’ll be kept away from the cockpit and from him. It’s a great distraction, until it isn’t. When you’re done, you stare at them absentmindedly, trying to decide on your next task. There’s only two options though, and either one carries its respective risks.

You’re living inside your head too much. You’ve been in there for far too long and he’s going to know you’re unconsciously avoiding him. Heart sunk and lodged in your trachea, you make your way back into the cockpit, gulping at the sight of Mando’s broad silhouette in the pilot’s seat. The fond image from before turns into a lewd one in no time, and you’re suddenly daydreaming about the cockpit being filled with moans and gasps and whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin, shamelessly—

Stars. What did that man do to you?

A more accurate question would be what have you done to yourself?

You did this. You’re the one responsible for all of those feelings and for all of the thoughts you’ve been having. If you would’ve kept a respectable distance, none of that would’ve happened. If you wouldn’t have wrapped your lips and hand around him, if he hadn’t done the same...

It’s far too late for takebacks or what if’s. You probably would’ve felt that way even without having tasted him. Hell, you felt that way since your first fight with Mando, when his hands barely dared graze your calves and seek to explore more through bare touch. There was just something which pulled you in, drew you close to him in all the inexplicable ways.

“We’re going to arrive shortly,” his modulated voice announces you.

“Okay.”

However, blame and guilt creep their way into your soul whenever you hear his voice, so husky and calculated even. You just know he’s upset about something, and you have the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’re involved as well.

You’re shy to return to the cockpit. Mando’s been flying the Crest smoothly, most likely from muscle memory and years of soaring the galaxy for quarries, so you find it fairly disrespectful to disturb his flow. You sneak the occasional glance at his silhouette, standing straight and rigid in the seat, looking nowhere else but ahead. Maker knows what’s really going on inside his head, beneath the beskar.

You would never know.

But in the soothing and yet earsplitting silence, you wish you would.

“Thank you.”

You barely get one step closer to him before genuine shock strikes you. This is the longest you and Mando spent silent around each other—for unknown reasons, at least—and suddenly his modulated voice awakens you, stirring a sentiment in the depth of your soul that’s itching and burning and ecstatic all at once.

“For—what?”

“Letting me fly your ship.”

“Oh. Well, I had some work to do and uh – since you said you had the same model for your ship—sure. You’re welcome.”

Stars, are you hesitating and stuttering? When has that ever happened to you? You don’t recall. In fact, you doubt there was ever a time in your life when you felt so drawn in by someone’s presence. It was as if a greater force in the universe decided to bring you two together for—something. Whatever that something might have been.

“Do you want to go over the conduit the Mand’alor is supposed to have?”

Mando does no gesture to signify that he’s in agreement or disagreement. He exhales, slowly, barely audible, and prepares for landing, which you take as a “no” long before he actually says the word.

The landing is smooth and without any difficulty; to your surprise, you already notice the liveliness in Mos Pelgo, which wasn’t quite what you remembered from a few years back. There even seemed to be more people, each with differing occupations, practically not paying any attention to either you or Mando. In retrospect, that was a great thing. You didn’t need to draw attention to you walking around with a fully armored man. You were there strictly for business.

Mando tilts his head to the left, ever so slightly and teasingly it seems, and you find it just so natural to answer to his unspoken question: “It should be a bit farther ahead.”

So he walks by your side, earning a few glances from the locals, which is to be expected. Wherever a Mandalorian walks, there are bound to be looks and messy businesses, but you hope the latter would not be the case. All you need is to find your friend. Well, more of an acquaintance than a friend, really. Although you’ve spent some weeks in the man’s company, it couldn’t be said you were best friends in arms. You helped each other and sought comfort in each other’s arms.

And now you and Mando were doing the same.

Only with him it feels altered. Like every meeting with him had your soul intertwined with his in ways you have yet to decipher, but you feel it to be true. The care you have for Mando is simply unmatched. You feel like you know him, like you’ve always known him, while simultaneously knowing nothing. It’s maddening, it’s crippling and lustful, and you have to figure out a way out of it.

There’s rustling to your right. You don’t move too quickly. You simply glance to the building, not seeing anything too peculiar. Your steps carry you further, and so do Mando’s. Every small reaction of yours triggers a subsequent one from him and it’s uncanny, downright mental. He turns to the right when you do and you gasp out loud, holding your breath for the next several seconds.

Mando is now sitting in front of you, blocking you from whatever or whomever it was that took the shot at you. He’s scanning the surroundings and truthfully, you’re quite stunned at how much broader he seems as he has his back against you. He covers most of you with his whole body, protecting you from outer harm, and the thought alone disarms you.

“And you wanted to come alone,” he mutters, blaster ready in his hand.

You don’t respond. You don’t let him know he’s right. Instead, you squint behind him when a silhouette approaches you both, and about two seconds later, relief comes over.

“Pardon for the harsh treatment. We got to be careful with unexpected visitors, regardless of how pretty they might be.”

Instantly, you relax and you come from behind Mando, a smirk erupting from the corner of your mouth. Mando is watching the scene somewhat bewildered. Thousands of thoughts swirl in his head, and it comes back to him like a late and crucial realization.

Otherwise the guy is in serious trouble.

Oh! It’s a guy. Of course. Now I get it.

It’s a guy.

Mando is smart, cunning and resourceful when need be, and once he glues the pieces together, his chest bursts. Something within simply breaks, tiny fragments of the implosion scattered throughout his body, sharp and agonizing. He’s probably known it since Rina said it, but know it is more than evident, and he does not enjoy it.

He sees you offer Cobb Vanth a warm and sincere hug, tight, and he stands there, in the middle of the road, shifting his weight onto one leg and relaxing the other. In spite of that, he feels himself tense and stiff, much like the first time you had your mouth on him. Except this time there is no cataclysmic release to hope for.

“Flattery won’t excuse the fact that you just tried to shoot me,” you playfully scold Vanth.

“Have to take precautions. You may never know.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

“I’d try to make it up to you, but something tells me you’re here for business.”

“I am. Vanth, this is—“

“Mando,” Vanth coos to him and comes closer for a handshake, which Mando gives him nonetheless. “Good to see you here again.”

“Good to see you as well.”

“I take it you know Amara too.”

“She’s—my advisor.”

“Advisor?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say. “But to sum it up, Mando is the new king of Mandalore, and I’m his advisor.”

Vanth seems genuinely impressed and he puts his hand on your shoulder, smiling widely at you. “A king’s right hand. Not bad!”

You purse your lips as you smile, as if somehow ashamed, but there’s only second guessing to the gesture. If only anyone knew how you got there, how Mando got to name you his advisor, why he wanted you by his side…

Would that be so bad though?

“Do I have to use honorifics from now on?” Vanth jokes, but Mando remains impassible.

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Alright then. What can I help you two with?”

“My armor got stolen so I need the old one that I left here after uh—I just need it.”

Vanth chuckles, probably reminiscing of times he’s heard that from you before, and he smiles reassuringly.

“Please tell me you still have it,” you nearly beg. “That was a fine beskar armor.”

“I still got it. Only I had to protect it from Jawas and Tusken raiders so it’s locked away in a vault, many miles from here.”

“We’ll go with you.”

“Please! Stay here and make yourselves comfortable. It’s a simple task. I can handle it.”

“I know what you can and can’t handle.”

All the innuendos and sneaky glimpses thrown at each other are making Mando feel more powerless and insignificant, and he grows to despise it even more. He’s left behind you and Vanth, alone with his consuming thoughts and despair. He glances every now and then at you and Vanth and something just roars inside his chest. It’s massive, ugly and tormenting. It’s got its claws sunk onto his heart, gripping it so tight, ripping it open to watch it bleed that Mando swears he blacks out for a moment. Or another. Or few more.

Vanth is just as cordial as he’d been with Mando, but something is different about him and you together. His boyish grin as he speaks with you, the gentle touch of yours on his arm, it makes Mando break into tiny pieces. There is nothing confusing or mysterious about his sentiment now.

It’s jealousy. Ugly, dark and uncharacteristic and he despises it deeply.

Why is he jealous? You are no one else’s but your own. And whatever alliance you had with Vanth, it was clearly over. Unless feelings lingered still in between you two, there was no reason for Mando to feel this way. No reason whatsoever.

Yet he can’t help it.

When you’re back in Mando’s vicinity, there’s a flustered smile on your flushed face. It’s a rare sigh, almost like you are an entirely renewed person and Mando feels, among other things, curious. He barely acknowledges the fact that you’re both standing in what seems to be some sort of apartment building and that you’re left alone with him again.

“I take it Vanth is your friend from Mos Pelgo?” you ask out of the blue.

“Yes.”

“He’s a very nice man.”

Mando opts for silence. He draws his own ideas on just how nice Cobb Vanth has been to you and vice versa, and despite the fact that it’s taunting him further, he cannot stop.

“You know him pretty well too, it seems,” he concludes in a dark tone.

“I do. We uh—we had some —close interactions a few years ago.”

“Missions?”

You hesitate, and that’s all confirmation Mando requires to draw his own masochistic conclusions. Even he knows the question was futile, for his gut feeling always prevails.

“Sure, let’s call them that,” you say.

Interactions, you called them.

The word makes Mando even more enraged. “It’s a guy, of course it’s a guy”. The sentence detonates in his mind on an excruciating loop. He has no reason to react that way. He barely knows you. Why is it so painful all of a sudden?

Except… it’s been painful for a while. Being so close to you, wanting so much more of you and after those intimate encounters, learning that neither of you can have the other.

He never cared for anyone quite like this. In any real way, honestly. Grogu was the first creature he truly cared and nurtured, but now… this is different. He cares for his friends, to be sure, but not like this. Not to the point where he feels like ripping off a friend’s arm simply for shaking hands with you.

It scares him underneath.

“What’s with you?” you mindlessly ask.

Mando turns his helmet to you. “What?”

“You seem… stiff.”

He gulps, clenching his fists under the table.

“How can you tell? You can’t see my face.”

“But I know body language. Especially that of a Mandalorian.”

You do. You sure do.

“How come you left your armor here?” he asks.

He wishes he hadn’t asked, truthfully. He already knows the answer, but he’s just that masochistic, it seems.

“Well, I—believe it or not, I actually forgot about it. Things were—messy and—rushed.”

You clear your throat, visibly flustered, while Mando huffs mockingly. There’s not a single part of him which believes your pretend innocence, and you know that as well. But you play it off still, pursuing the flashy lie however you can. You refuse to confirm his suspicions, at least out loud.

Mando’s mind spirals and travels south quickly to a darker spot, reserved for feelings he had yet to experience or even acknowledge. His eyes, safely concealed behind the helmet, observe you closely, and once you return his look—unknowingly, at first—it’s electric. That pesky corner of his mind induces all-too-indulgent images with the two of you. And suddenly…

There it is.

Shocking, visceral and uncalled for.

The feral desire to overpower you. An overbearing desire to unlock your euphoria, to savor it and connect with you in the most intimate and sensual way known to humans.

He reminisces your taste, your sounds the way your body burned, ached and exploded in his mouth like the finest treat, a carnal pleasure so wild he would’ve thought he only dreamt of it. He reminisces the grip he held over your bare thighs as he spread you open before him, how you graciously allowed him and how pleasantly wet you were for him. Just for him.

He wanted you to be just for him.

Now he’s thinking of you being that way with Vanth, legs wide apart as he slides inside of you, obscene and lustful sounds leaving your swollen lips—

And at last, the Mandalorian feels helpless.

He does not know the extent of his relation with you, nor what the implications might be. All he knows is an unbearable hunger, dry and hot. It’s beyond uncomfortable, really; he never felt that sensation within himself before, to care and to have someone farther than how his job required him. Yet now… thrice he’d played with fire, and thrice it burned him alive.

How could he possibly want more? Just how selfish could he get?

“Everything alright there, Mando?” Vanth asks him.

“All good.”

Mando’s voice doesn’t even sound like it belongs to him. It’s mechanic and lifeless, nearly breathless, but neither you nor Vanth say anything with regards to it. Vanth shows you both to the suite, but you’re the only one interested in it. Mando’s mind and newly unlocked desires are strictly focused on you.

“I apologize there’s only one room,” Vanth says sincerely. “A lot of new folk around here wanting to work.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you reply with a wide smile.

“You’re more than welcome to use whatever you need or let anyone know if you need anything. I’ll be back in a few hours with that armor.”

“Thank you.”

“You can take the bed if you want to rest,” Mando rasps.

“It’s a huge mattress. I’m sure there’s plenty of space for us both to—“

“Just take it.”

After a prolonged moment of awkward silence, Vanth is the first one to break it, clearly eager to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I’ll let you two sort it out,” he chuckles. “See you in a few hours.”

Once you and Mando are left alone behind the steel door, Mando finally feels how tense his entire body is, nearly on the verge of combusting. His muscles are sore and he hadn’t even done anything tiresome the entire day.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play the fool with me, Mando. Your tone, your attitude… I thought you said you and Vanth were friends.”

“We are.”

“Then what is the matter with you?”

You.

That’s the matter.

“Nothing,” he eventually replies.

He lacks the basic verbal skills to explain properly just how much he wants to have you again. Just—just a little. Just a little bit.

“Mando.”

There you are again, calling out to him like a siren, a song beautiful and deadly. You approach him steady, fingers carefully touching his armor, cold at first but then gradually warming up to your touch.

“What do you need?”

It’s been some sort of medicine you provided one another with, though it did more for Mando and his dormant and aching desires. He wants to care and to have, to even go as far as claim it as his own.

“I just—“

“Use your words.”

Your calm tone makes him more impatient, if anything, and he feels himself grow harder with each painful second that passes.

“I want you on my mouth. On my face.”

The sun is up in the sky and in the fully lit room is now the contour of a tormented Mandalorian who’s in dire need of a way to express his feelings. Because that’s what Mando does. He’s a man of action. Words often fail him, so his actions are his voice more often than not. But his dragged out words affect you tremendously.

“O-Okay,” you whisper.

The permission sets him ablaze, but before he can dive in, you go to shut the blinds, ensuring total freedom of movement for Mando. He’s now holding advantage while you’re there, at his will and at his mercy.

And—Maker. You really like that.

You enjoy seeing him in control. It means he’s accepting his role and claiming it at last. He’s wrapping himself in that Mandalorian allure even when he’s not wearing the armor. And if that was how he wanted to assert his dominance, so be it. You had nothing against it.

But then, as he practically tears the clothes from your nether region, your core is exposed against his mouth and you blindly go to pull at something. Coincidentally, you tug at his hair, and Mando grunts against your cunt. You squirm under his touch, the feeling of his rough gloves on your thighs fogging your brain. You moan, desperately and softly, the sounds working as both a form of flattery and encouragement for Mando to proceed. You feel lightheaded once Mando dips his tongue into you, licking hungrily and achingly slow across your slick lips. Stars, stars, stars, it’s downright ridiculous how soaked you are already.

Except… it’s pent up frustration, growing neediness from days before, now excessive and in dire need of attention.

Mando hums, the vibration rushing through you and spreading like wildfire. It generates a subsequent reaction from you: you buckle up your hips, trying to meet with more of his face, even if it already feels as if Mando completely buried his head in between your legs. How could you possibly want more?

You do. You selfishly do.

You fall apart into millions of tiny pieces, right into Mando’s mouth, and he eats you teasingly slow, but oh—oh, so sinfully eager to please and do well. At this point, you draw your breaths shorter and shorter, precipitated, mewling and tugging at unseen locks of hair. You want to say something, but it’s futile and unnecessary. The only sound in the suite are your moans and the obscene slurps Mando takes from you. He takes all that he can, every drop of juice his mouth can collect, and you go numb. You barely manage to arch your back and try to smear his face some more when Mando growls. The vaguely distinguishable sound of him licking his lips has you falling apart yet again, and you suddenly feel empty.

“No, don’t—don’t stop,” you all but plead.

“Get on top of me.”

He’s decisive and you don’t fight against it. You figure he needs that as well, probably even more than you do. And perhaps it is ingrained inside your mind that he is now the king of Mandalore, and you are, at the end of the day, one of his subjects, his advisor, and that’s why you obey him. Or maybe it’s because you enjoy seeing him in that position. Where in the galaxy did he learn to do that? Maybe he’s done it before. Right now, it’s futile to even try to figure out anything else.

But once your trembling legs are again on either sides of his face, this time more spread apart, you moan louder, utterly shattered. His hot breath is against your core, his tongue moving fast and sloppy, and it gets you so close you swear you blackout for a moment or two. You feel so vulnerable and bare, but it does not frighten you. It feels maddening, but also safe and… right.

Mando’s calloused hands grip your thighs and push you completely down on his face. It takes you aback and you fleetingly wonder again where the hell he learned to do that. It matters not; you’re too filled with ecstasy and fire to focus much. You begin to worry he doesn’t get enough air, but Maker and stars above, you are so close, so fucking close. There’s a stubble tickling you, lips and tongue darting in and out of you, on and off you, and you rock your hips into the sensation. It’s forbidden and lustful on so many levels, downright shameful, but you never cared any less than you do right now.

It feels like Mando is just—drinking straight from you with every flick of his tongue, the more he licks you all the way from the very back of your cunt to your clit. A glorious and massive arousal builds up in your belly, and you rock yourself faster on his face, growing desperate. Mando practically engulfs your whole clit, sucking on it as if it was his last meal ever.

Your thighs shake into his grip when you cum and you try to move away, but Mando holds you in place, right on his face. He needs to feel you clench on his mouth and to hear you nearly cry out from the stimulation. And you are indeed on the verge of tears: your eyes are teary, your mouth ajar and body set entirely afire.

“Do it—do it again.”

It takes you a bit to register his shameless request. When you do, shock falls upon you.

“A-Again?”

“I want to feel you again. Please.”

His “please” sounds so throated and frantic, the juxtaposition between that and his general tone, domineering and surefire, quite scandalous and—well. How can you refuse? You don’t want to. Bless whatever it was that made him react that way.

Mando tries to persuade you with kisses on your inner thighs, advancing back to your swollen clit. He begins to press kisses there, followed by more sucking and licking and once again, you fall apart. You fall apart in his hands and mouth, and it’s turbulent, passionate and ever so greedy.

But Mando is a giver. He gives you exactly what you both need, and he takes nothing in return but the sole pleasure from feeling your muscles clench on his mouth and your sounds, music to his ears.

You feel tears running down your cheeks as you rock yourself on his face again, the throated sounds coming from you and Mando alike wanton and distressed. You don’t conceal anything from what goes on inside you. Not then, in the darkness and in the intimacy of your shared suite. Take it as you will, but you have never felt that good under anyone else’s ministrations. It’s surreal, and you cum much faster the second time around.

You presume Mando evened the filthy score between the two of you, and that thought alone wrecks you.

Because now… now you want it all.

You want all of him.

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myonepiece · 4 years ago

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Hello 😳 so I saw your post about Kyoshiro and Bartolomeo with a clingy short fem!S/O who's also a scary cat, and let me tell you, that post AWAKENED something inside of me 🤤💞 so I would like to request a King, Sanji, and Mihawk with clingy short fem!S/O who's also a scary cat if your request are still opened that is 😚👉👈 thank you in advance, and you can ignore this request if you want. I hope you have a good day or night luv 😚💗

King, Sanji with a clingy short fem!S/O who’s a scaredy cat

King x Reader, Sanji x Reader

Description: King & Sanji (seperate) with a short fem!S/O who is clingy and gets scared easily + oneshot/drabble with her getting scared and hiding behind character

Warnings: very mild implied sexual harrassment (in King’s oneshot), mild cursing

A/N: I’m so glad you liked it, it was so fun to write! 💐 (I love how you used so many emojis in your request) and I hope it’s okay I only did sanji and king, it’s just that this situation ends up fairly long 💕

*for King let’s say you’re around his height, the top of your head is a little above his waist

King is definitely not the most affectionate person, he’s not a fan of PDA other than having you sit on his lap. if you get too physically affectionate (which is very) then King will warn you in a stern voice to stop, and if you don’t then he’ll move you away or simply place you on the ground and push you away

in private he’s more okay with you being clingy, still not the fondest though

he has nothing against your height, he (secretly) finds it adorable and he likes to watch you walk around the Beast Pirates crew because he finds it amusing to see the height differences between you and everyone else, your height is another reason he prefers having you stay on his lap often or at least have you right next to him- he’s worried someone (Kaido) will step on you

he also likes the way your hand looks on him, whether it’s resting on his arm, his chest, or his own hand, he always stares at the interaction and admires how precious and sweet you look

he sometimes finds your cowardness irritating, but even as he scolds you or strictly teases you for being scared so easily, he’s happy that you come to him to feel safe- honestly he never thought someone would feel safe with him nor did he want someone to until he met you

and after he scolds you he always pushes you away or behind him so he can handle whoever messed with his angel (usually it’s Queen, he likes messing with King and one of the most effective ways to do that is to mess with you) he also uses his wings as somewhat of a shield for you, providing cover usually

+ oneshot

You tentatively walked through the dimly lit hall in the Beast Pirates base, the cold stone chilling the air around you and creating a slight echo of the patter of your shoes.

keeping your eyes trained on the ground while a few lesser crew members passed you, you followed the little cracks in the stone, branching out and creating intricate patterns- your eyes fell upon a pair of shoes and you froze midstep, looking up and perceiving Queen staring down at you, an unsettling smirk contorting his face

you smiled slightly up at him, trying to step around him and continue only to be stopped by his hand reaching out and tilting your head to look at him, the touch seding shivers down your spine, the bad kind of shivers

it wasn’t unusual for Queen to mess with you, enjoying your disturbed and fearful reactions as the sadistic man he is, and the reaction he gets from King is pure gold to him- he enjoys making King get protective so he can tease him for being so smitten

“______, how bout you come with me! some of the crew are going to sumo wrestle! come see their heads pop off!”

Queen laughed at your unsettled expression before leaning down a bit and blowing smoke out into your face,

“or maybe I should snap the collar on you an’ throw you into the ring”

you gasped, causing Queen to chortle in amusement- you took the moment of his distraction to move away from his touch and scurry off down the hall, hearing Queen call after you in a mocking tone and follow in pursuit

you hurried through the halls and spotted King at the end in the large room at the end, he stood at the table conversing with Jack, though clearly uninterested with the subject

you picked up your pace and your heels clicked against the ground alerting King, who knew you are the only one who wears shoes that make that sound. he turned to the entrance happy to have something to do other than play with Jack, but he didn’t like the worried expression on your face- nor Queen rounding the corner after you having all too familar mischievous expression on his lips.

scurrying into the room, you ran over to King and hid behind his large wings. his glare never left Queen as the large man entered the room and moved towards where you stood huddled against King’s wings, stopping in front of the armored man and taking a long drag on his cigar.

“what are you doing you moron”

Queen laughed at King’s protectiveness already showing, finding amusement in his crewmember’s smittenesque.

“I was inviting her to play a game you jackass!”

he laughed heartily at King’s insulted and angry expression. your boyfriend took a step forward, now only a few feet away from Queen- the atmosphere in the room grew tense and Jack was watching with wary eyes matching yours as you watched the two calamities square up, both ready to strike if it came to it. but King is observant, he saw that Queen had no intention of hurting him, he simply wanted to scare you and get a rise out of him.

he scoffed and turned begrudgingly back to you, moving to take a seat at the table and lifting you onto his lap with ease. you settled against his steel covered chest, still slightly shaking from Queen’s scare- King’s eyes narrowed at Queen when he chuckled again and sat in the chair between King and Jack, throwing a wink in your direction. King visibly flinched and his behind left the chair momentarily before returning, remembering that’s what Queen wanted- and you were safe on his lap.

Sanji is super clingy himself, he has no problem at all with your affection and neediness. he’s always more than happy to hug you or cuddle you or kiss you, it’s one of his favorite things to do- he’s constantly asking himself how he got so lucky to have a girl like you

one of the things Sanji finds most adorable about you is your height, no matter what you do Sanji thinks you’re the cutest thing ever, he’s always offering to carry you, he always pulls you onto his lap- back hugs are another one of his favorite things because your body is so much smaller than his own and he thinks it’s adorable how perfectly you fit in his embrace, and don’t even get him started on how cute your hands look holding onto his hand

your slight cowardness gives him an excuse to hold you even more, he offers his hand or arm for you to hold, and whenever you grab onto him he has to fight back the squeals and focus on the problem at hand, making sure you feel safe and are completely out of harm’s way

+ oneshot

the island you docked at had a quaint little town, small but bustling with life- you had gone to look at a store for some new clothes. unfortunately you couldn’t find anything and you had to head back to the ship empty handed. to make things even worse, while you were watching the ground you bumped into someone, who happened to be much bigger than you and piss drunk.

“oi! what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, stuttering out an apology that only seemed to make the man madder.

“you need to fucking watch where you’re... you’re going”

he swayed on his feet and leaned down so that he was face level with you, pointing an accusing finger in your face and once again his alcohol filled breath invaded your senses.

“you-you have no idea who you’re dealing with”

his words slurred together and his unbalance caused him to lean forward slightly and you took a step back- all of a sudden you heard a familiar voice over the crowd’s chatter.

“______-swaaaan!!”

you looked to the side and spotted the relieving blond hair bouncing through the crowd while your boyfriend quickly weaved his way through the crowd towards you. stopping beside you and throwing his hands wielding shopping bags into the air.

“I got you gifts my beautiful _____-swan!”

this is when he noticed the man far too close for his liking, his face fell with his arms, turning to one of suspicion and confusion, then to one of disgust and slight anger. he handed you the bags gently and stepped in front of the man, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“why are you bothering my little _____-swan?”

his voice was tight and you could tell he was mad, but the strager didn’t seem to pick up on the danger in his drunkness. you reached up and clutched the bottom of Sanji’s jacket in your hand, he felt the action rigth away and his anger dissipated and his face broke into a huge grin. he spun on his heel and threw his arms around your waist, picking you up and smushing his cheek against yours while he rambled about how adorable you are- his perfect moment ruined by the stranger’s words.

“she ran into me you bastard, make her *hiccup* apologize before I do”

“oi, don’t ignore me!”

Sanji’s smile faltered slightly and he lifted his foot, spinning quickly and kicking the man with such force that it sent him flying away through the wall of the shop behind.

“I’m trying to hug my angel! don’t interupt you idiot!”

“_____-swan I’m so sorry you had to see that~!”

you giggled at Sanji’s foolishness, leaning you head down to peck his nose- making his cheeks turn an even brighter red and he squealed.

“ooh we need to get back to the ship so you can try on the clothes I got for you my dear!”

he placed his arm under you, switching to holding you in a bridal style, and he pranced off down the street towards the awaiting ship- his face still dangerously flushed and his eyes closed in joy.

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #one piece sanji #one piece king #king the wildfire #king headcanons #king imagine #king the wildfire imagine #king x reader

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colossal-fallout · 4 years ago

Text

Request from @whydoilooklikeawetdog; Forgive me for what I am about to request but soft mommy kink s4 mikasa with male bodied reader. I have issues anyways hope u have fun with it bestie

Coming right up my darling <3

Embrace M!Bodied Reader X Mikasa

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ Only. Mommy Kink.

"Tough day?" Mikasa's lips part with concern as you flop down onto your bed, arm covering your eyes.

She may know you better than anyone else, but it didn't take a familiar eye to notice your slumped, energy lacking posture and frown that tugged the corners of your mouth as you'd entered your shared bedroom.

"Just one of those days." You mutter in reply. You didn't really have the energy reserves to talk about it. Not only that, but you much prefer not to burden anyone with your problems. Not that Mikasa see's it that way, of course.

Her soft orbs take in your form on the bed - chest rising and falling at the relaxed relief of finally being on your mattress evident in how you allow yourself to sink into it as deeply as it would take you.

You flinch in surprise and remove your arm as you feel her plop herself above you, one arm on each side of your chest - her eyes heavy and the residual dusting of a slight smirk ghosting her face.

"Well, you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want. But let me take care of you..."

You sit up slightly, at first you're confused as to what she means until her hand softly brushes up against your crotch, the haze of lust clouding her usually clear blue eyes.

"Hey, it's okay." You sigh, not wanting her to think that you were merely hinting for her to see to your needs.

"I want to." Her voice is low as she straddles you, throwing her leg over your hip before leaning down and trailing her beautiful lips down your neck, her fingers already fumbling at your belt buckle.

You hands instantly snap to her ass as if on auto-piolet. Like your body just suddenly had a mind of it's own, you push her down and grind her against your hardening junk, stirring awake like some beast about to awaken from a long slumber and ready to hunt.

"I think you're already starting to feel a little better, baby..." She groans into your neck as her clit is stimulated from the friction, her hips now moving on their own accord.

"Yeah... me too." You reply, gasping as her hands finally free your cock, the fresh air hitting it reminding you of just how long it had been since you allowed yourself to just lay back and take some well deserved pampering.

Her delicate hand wraps around your head, slowly tugging at it while her teeth pulls at the skin on your shoulder through the cloth of your shirt, her own hunger for you becoming more evident as her breathing rate increases, her slick sticking to the cloth of her panties.

Your eager fingers move around to her front, tugging at her trousers in haste; wanting nothing more than to see her beautiful pussy on display for you. As soon as you catch a glimpse of her small pink lips as she shimmies out of her restraints, you sigh and lick your lips, more than ready to feel her insides.

You go to slide your fingers into her arousal when she grabs your wrist and pushes your hand back.

"No. Let mommy take care of you." She hums, her soft slit rubbing itself up and down your length.

You lie back and enjoy the view - the feeling of her heat rolling off her and encasing you was all too welcoming as her cheeks begin to flush pink, enjoying the feelings your hard muscle was giving her as she rubbed herself up and down you.

"You feel so good..." She gasps, her fingertips sinking into your chest as her pace slowly begins to quicken.

"I'm not even in you, yet." You smirk.

"I know. You're just too good..." Her eyes begin to plead as she gets more fired up, her soft black strands spilling over her face as her head begins to tip back.

"Sit on me." You groan, wanting nothing more than so slide into the wetness you see getting thicker and spreading further around her and you.

"Sit on me, what?"

"Please..." Your grip tightens on her peachy ass.

"No..."

"Sit on me, mommy..."

She pushes herself down, your swollen bell squashing into her tight little hole with a blazing glory.

As your dick pushes its way inside, you feel every warm ridge dragging down your flesh. The tight embrace around you is indescribable - you watch her little cunt stretch around your length, yawning at your girth.

Mikasa rolls her hips opening her legs and placing her feet flat on the sheets; giving you the best front row view of her quivering pink bloom. You can't ignore how soft her skin is under your hands as she slowly rocks herself back and forth, her thighs being squeezed by your hungry palms. Each slow thrust of her pelvis shows you the little bump imprint of your dick inside of her as her face goes from a soft pink into a deep red hue.

"Ah~ Is that good, baby?" She whines.

You nod, not wanting to tear your gaze from her splayed pussy with your dick print prodding from within her with every slow roll.

"I'll always take care of you, sweetie." Her vocals are soft yet desperate, her gaze warm and her grip on you trembling, as her body is crashed with intense sensations. "You just need some love... ah!"

The scent of her sex crawls up you, the sound of her insides swallowing you is evident enough while you feel her warm liquids begin to ooze down onto your balls behind her.

You thrust up your hips, yearning for more of her as the deep recesses of her core pull and squeeze you - needing to feel as much of you as possible.

Your name leaves her lips in breathy pants, your tip grazing her cervix as she begins to now bounce, taking your breath away.

"M-mikasa..." You stammer as she moves up and down. "Fuck..."

"Ah~ yes! Baby..." She squeaks, her pace quickening. "You're ruining mommy... ah... yes! I'm so close..."

You grab her and roll over; feral and hysteric as you push her legs up behind her head, dipping yourself into her finger-trap like cunt as it pulls you in deeper and tighter, her silent scream confirming her approval of your position change.

"I'm c-cuming, ah!"

Her toes curl and thighs tense in your hands as she juices you dry, her orgasm summoning your own as you release your thick cream deep inside of her centre - her hums of satisfaction vibrating her chest as you grimace throughout your ecstasy.

"Mmm good boy..." She sighs as you flop down - her tight cunt having squeezed every last drop out from you. "I told you I'd take care of you."

#attack on titan #snk mikasa #mikasa smut #mikasa x you #mikasa ackerman #snk smut #aot smut #shingeki no kyojin #mikasa x reader #mikasa x y/n #snk x you #snk x oc #snk x y/n #snk x reader #aot x you #aot x male reader #aot x reader #aot season 4

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actuallysaiyan · 4 years ago

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Jiraiya N-S-F-W/Smutty Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jiraiya is very sweet with aftercare. He’ll clean you up gently, but sometimes this makes him even more horny when he sees his seed leaking from your cunt. It takes a lot of willpower for him not to take you once again. That being said, he’ll ask you if you’d like to shower, or maybe have something to eat to refuel so you can go a few more rounds before the night is over. Jiraiya is sweet, but he is very horny.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jiraiya doesn’t really have a favorite part of his body...wait, scratch that. There is one part of his body that he really does think is his best asset. It’s his cock! It’s huge, veiny and makes women scream in pleasure. There’s nothing better than having a magnum cock.

On you, it’s definitely your tight little cunt or your tits! He can’t get enough of either of those, and he loves that no other man or woman can have access to them. He loves filling your pussy up with cum, and your tits are so soft and sweet, he loves to kiss them and lay his head on them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jiraiya loves cumming deep with you, and he enjoys fucking his cum deep inside you. He’ll pump load after load inside you, telling you what a good girl you are. You take his cock so fucking good, it makes him hard just thinking about it. He also enjoys cumming all over your face and tits, and he just drenches you in his seed.

With you, Jiraiya will make you cum until you’re literally crying for him to stop. You don’t have to worry about Jiraiya, he’ll take such good care of you. He needs to, because he adores you so much.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This man has no dirty secrets. He writes glorified smut for a living, so all of his fantasies are out in the open. They are open for display, and he doesn’t care who reads them. He enjoys how nasty he is, and he will let you know about any of his sexual fantasies.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jiraiya is very experienced. He knows all the ways to make a woman squirm and squeal in pleasure, and he’ll have you cumming in no time. He’s been with lots of women, and though he seems sleazy and perverted, that does generally help him discover all kinds of new techniques in bed.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is a tough one, because Jiraiya actually loves almost all positions. He does enjoy doggy style for when you’re being a brat and he wants to dominate you and fuck you hard. Missionary and spooning is when he’s feeling more loving and wants to be near you as close as possible. The mating press is for when you awaken his breeding kink. Jiraiya also enjoys having his dick between your tits, and your mouth around his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Jiraiya loves to have fun and be funny during sex a lot of the time. He’ll say some pretty perverted things about your body, but you are more than used to it by now. He enjoys saying dirty things, and he’ll degrade you a little if you let him. It makes him rock hard if he gets to enjoy your body and compliment you or call you his little cumslut. If the situation is more romantic, he’ll be very sweet and serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is quite well groomed, but the hair he does have is white and wild. It’s fluffy and soft more so than coarse, but he enjoys trimming it and keeping it clean down there for you. He doesn’t want you to swallow any hairs, but you don’t give him a hard time if there is a bit of landscaping to be done.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jiraiya can be so romantic if you allow him. He’ll hold you close, kiss you sweetly and make you so wet. He’ll tell you how beautiful you are, and he’ll make sure you know how wanted you are. He enjoys the intimacy just as much as anyone else, despite his perverted nature. But, if he’s feeling particularly horny, he might be a little less romantic and a little more nasty.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s well known that Jiraiya likes to take care of business when he can’t be with a woman. There’s no exceptions there when he’s with you, and if you are gone for a long period of time, Jiraiya has some toys that can help him get over the edge. His mind is always filled with thoughts of you riding him as he fucks himself into the fleshlight and he’ll moan and groan as he cums hard.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jiraiya literally enjoys so many kinks, it’d be easier to write down what he’s not super into. He loves having your consent for all of them, otherwise he won’t do them. Jiraiya adores you, so he is only willing to practice his kink if you are alright with it. His favorites might include BDSM, titty fucking, thigh riding, whipping, collaring, slight ageplay, face riding and face fucking...

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Jiraiya adores doing it at home. He likes to be able to fuck you in peace of his home, and he’ll be able to fuck you better and for longer if he knows no one will interrupt. That being said, the man is definitely not opposed to fucking you anywhere he can. He loves the thrill of getting caught, and it’s definitely never stopped him before. Catch him in the onsen, and you’re definitely going to get fucked if you’re the only two there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, it doesn’t take a whole lot to get Jiraiya going. He’s mostly always horny, but he is a good man. If you really want him to fuck you, just rub his thigh and bat your eyelashes at him. Then you lean in to whisper “fuck me, please, Jiraiya-sama.” in his ear and he is as good as yours. You don’t have to do much to get Jiraiya in the mood, and that’s honestly one of the best things about having Jiraiya as a lover.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jiraiya will not do anything involving faeces or urine, and he’s not really into anything that’s really going to hurt you. He loves you, and he will do nothing to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. He’s willing to try almost anything with you, but he will always get consent first.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ohhhh boy, Jiraiya will lose his absolute mind if you kneel in front of him and deep throat him. He’ll tug on your hair and praise you, while fucking your pretty mouth. He loves thrusting into your mouth and watching you gag and drool all over his huge cock. It turns him on to see you this way.

On the flip side, Jiraiya adores going down on you. Just the smell of your aroused pussy sets him off. He’ll lap at your cunt for hours if you’d let him. He loves the feel of your thighs squeezing around his face, and if you tug on his hair, well he’ll be so happy for that as well.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

That all depends on what kind of mood you are in. If you need him to be sensual and slow, you better believe that he’ll fuck you so nice and proper, and he’ll be so caring and loving, it’s very romantic.

If you need him to fuck you hard and get out some frustrations, he’ll dominate you and degrade you a little. You’ll be his little sex kitten that night, and he’ll spank you and grab your hips hard enough to bruise you. Whatever you need, Jiraiya can be that person. He’s very versatile.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh ho ho! Jiraiya is a big fan of quickies. Any chance he can get to fuck, he’s not going to deny it. He loves quickies when you’re somewhere where you can both get caught fucking. He loves pinning you up against a wall and pumping into you, making you whimper and making your cunt clench around his huge cock.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jiraiya is a huge risk taker, and he’ll definitely tease you any chance he gets. If he feels like commenting on your body in front of people and making you blush, he’ll do it. If he feels like rubbing your wet little pussy while you’re in public somewhere, you better bet that he’s going to do it. He’s not going to stop himself, unless it’s going to get you hurt or killed, which is never the goal.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

For an old man, Jiraiya can last quite a long time. He does need quite a bit of time between rounds to recover, but he’s more than willing to finger you or eat your pussy to make up for it. If you feel like going for a shower or food in between rounds, this makes him very happy. He’s into refueling to fuck again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jiraiya has lots of toys. He’ll use some of them on you if you’d like, and he’ll use some on himself as well. He enjoys vibrators a lot, since they can give pleasure to the both of you. Lots of times he’ll get you to put on vibrating panties and he’ll take you shopping. If he can make you cum without you causing too much of a ruckus while you’re shopping, he’ll buy you whatever you like.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jiraiya is a huge tease, and he loves to fluster you as much as he possibly can. He’ll slide his fingers up and down your wet folds, only to pull away when you think he’s going to penetrate you. He loves using his cockhead to tease you, whether it be around your lips or around your pussy, it’s one of his favorite things to do. He enjoys watching you squirm and wiggle to get the pleasure you so hope to receive. He’ll call you desperate and a cumslut, but you love when he’s like this with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jiraiya is very loud. He grunts, groans and moans. He’s not afraid to make sounds to let you know he’s enjoying himself. He also loves to talk dirty, and he’ll call you all kinds of pet names while you’re riding his thick cock. It feels so good, so he needs to let you know.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jiraiya is a huge fan of titty fucking. He loves seeing his cock between your tits, and he’s a fan of every size and shape of titties. He’s not picky when it comes to that, but he loves the feeling of you squeezing your breasts around his thick and meaty cock, and he’ll cum so fast if you lick the head while he fucks your tits.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jiraiya has a HUGE cock. It’s a good 10 inches, very very girthy, and it’s got a lot of nice veins that rub nicely on your walls. Despite having a huge cock, he does not cum quickly. He’s literally been so gifted by the gods or chance to have such a wonderful appendage. Other than that, he’s beefy, huge, muscly and so well toned, you’re surprised that he is actually that much older than you first perceived.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jiraiya literally has the sex drive of a teenage boy discovering Playboy for the first time. He always wants to fuck, and you can literally get him rock hard in seconds if you play your cards right. He’s always willing to fuck if the time is right and you’re willing to as well.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jiraiya enjoys making sure you’re well and comfortable before he spoons you and falls asleep decently quickly. He needs the reassurance that you’re all taken care of before he can even shut his eyes.

#writing #not requested #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto lemon #naruto smut #jiraiya lemon #jiraiya smut #sexy alphabet #jiraiya sexy alphabet #jiraiya smutty alphabet #jiraiya x you #jiraiya x y/n #jiraiya x reader

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years ago

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📽 📼LET’S (NOT) KEEP IT PG PART 3 📼 📽

Prompt: Drew and Y/N are reunited once again

Word count: Long!

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18, fluff (by the end), smut, vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, anal plug, dirty talking, trichophilia (hair kink - pulling), asphyxiation kink (breath play - chocking) in other words: just pure filth😈

Tagging: @jibbles26 , @akiko-tanaka , @blondekel77 , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic

Notes: Originally this shouldn’t be up until March but you already know me: I have no self respect at all! In a conversation with the lovely Marissa aka MJ, aka @howdareyouhydra. She asked if I could come up with a part 2 and 3 for the original “Let’s (Not) Keep It PG”. Part 1 and 2 are already up (you can read it on my Masterlist) and this is the finale: part 3! I thought to myself: Go big or go home! So here’s the result of it! Also: I tried to keep it “as real as possible” SPECIALLY with the first time anal thing. I just want to put it out there that communication is KEY and HIGHLY important kiddos, so please before doing the dirty business find someone who will truly care about you and your wellbeing! Not only with their own pleasure, ok?!...Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

❤️Drewy❤️: I’ll be home in 20 minutes

I reread the message Drew sent me once more. Staring to feel the goosebumps all over my skin.

I was patiently waiting for him in the bedroom, dressed in a lavender mini circle skirt; nude underneath it, a white tulle crop top with my breasts bare and some sheer white medium length socks.

I listen to the sounds of Drew’s heavy footsteps upon the dark wooden stairs, that are now leading him to our bedroom.

The door swung open and an impatient Drew, dressed in a black dress shirt and pants comes in my direction.

“Finally!” He grunts, giving me a bear hug while inhaling deeply upon the nape of my neck “Argh, I missed ya so much. I missed your smell, your skin, your lips” He kisses me urgently.

“I missed you too baby, those two months without you were a literal hell” I close my grip tighter around his neck.

“I know, princess” He coos “But we’ll have one whole week to make up for lost time” Smiling he kissed me again

“How’s daddy’s little girl doing?” He whispered

“Lonely, without you,”

“We’ll fix that right away, love” He began to kiss my neck

“Daddy...I have a surprise for you” I smirked when he backed away to look at me

“Surprise?”

I nod “Yeah, while daddy was away I took the time to prepare myself so daddy can claim the one thing he hasn’t claimed yet”

I watch as all the blood from Drew’s face is drained in disbelief

“Did you really?” He breathlessly asked

“Yes, do you wanna see it daddy?” I deviously grinned

Drew just nods, completely speechless as I lean in all fours on top of the bed with my bottom facing him. He scooted closer and lift my skirt slowly up to my hips, moaning a long ‘fuck me’ in a thick accent when his eyes encounter the beautiful dark pink with a flower base, glass butt plug.

“Did you liked my surprise, daddy?” I smiled innocently, looking at him over my shoulder.

“Liked? Oh love, I hope you’re not planning to go somewhere tomorrow ‘cause I’m sure you won’t be able to even get up from the bed!” He caresses my butt cheeks “You’re so perfect, princess. So fucking perfect” He praised “Turn over and lay down for me, love”

Drew unbuttoned his dress shirt, eyes glued to mine. He slowly takes the shirt off, letting it slide through his arms until it reached the floor, followed by his pants and underwear.

He kneels down, dragging me closer to him. The movement made my skirt go up to my waist.

“I missed this sweet pussy” He let a glob of spit fall upon my clit so it would drip down to my entrance. Drew watched until his spit reached the bedsheet, only then leaning in to give me long, teasing licks until he focused on my clit and slid one finger in.

“You managed to get even tighter without daddy, love?” He added a second finger in “I can barely fit two fingers inside of you”

He moves his fingers at a slow pace as he incredibly softly sucks on my clit.

Low moans fell from my lips when he speeds the pace of his fingers and tongue

“Daddy, please” I beg

“What do you want, princess?”

“I want daddy’s cock on my mouth” I babble

Drew slowly removes his fingers, lay down on the bed and motions for me crawl to him.

“Straddle my face, baby” He says panting

As soon as he has his face between my thighs he pulls my core towards his face and I lean down to suck him off.

The bedroom soon filled with our muffled moans of pleasure. I can feel my orgasm reaching close, making me suck Drew even harder. He slides two fingers in, pumped twice and that was enough to make me reach my high. With Drew’s own orgasm followed by, once he feels my walls suck his fingers in.

I swallowed his seed, turning over to meet his blue eyes.

“Come here” He beckons me

I crawl to him, hovering his body. He rapidly pulled me up, so he could kiss me vigorously.

“Think you can take another round right now? ‘Cause I want that pussy AND that ass” He nibs my jaw

“I’ve been waiting two months for that. Ruin me, daddy” I smirked

“Oh princess, you should’ve chose wiser words” He laughs, entering my core in one swift motion and wasting no time to pound me roughly.

“Oh fuck” I moaned. The way the butt plug pushed my walls further to the front, made the whole pounding feel like it never felt before. The whole sensation was like being doubled penetrated.

Drew close his fingers around my neck, pressing it lightly as he kisses me, tossing his free arm around my waist to keep me in place.

“Did you missed daddy’s cock, princess?”

I nod lightly

He releases his grip on my neck to only keep my head in place by locking his thick fingers on top of my head, firmly gripping my hair.

“Did you missed the way how daddy’s cock stretches your pussy, love?”

I nod again

“I bet your vibrator can’t do that, can it?”

“No, daddy. Only you can” I whispered

“Argh” He growls and pounds me even harder “I love how your pussy feels around my cock baby” He pulls me down by my hair so his lips can whisper in my ear every kind of obscenity you can think off: how good I felt, how his cock missed me, how he couldn’t wait to fuck my ass...With every filthy word his accent grew thicker and thicker. Drew always knew that dirty talking was my weakness and also the fastest way to make me cum.

It didn’t take long for me to reach my second orgasm, he continued to pound me but this time it was softer, making the orgasm last longer.

Drew caresses my cheeks, whispering

“Are you ok?”

*Always so thoughtful* I thought

“I’ll be better once you fuck me in the ass” I giggled and he laughs

“There’s nothing that I want more right now than to fuck your ass, baby. But I don’t want to push ya too far...I don’t wanna hurt ya” He brushes my hair with his fingers

“Drew” I caress his beard “I love how much you care about my wellbeing, but trust me, tiger: You won��t hurt me and I’m still really turned on, so would you please, kindly, fuck me?” I bat my lashes

“You’re gonna kill me someday, woman” He grunts, carefully sliding out of me

“Where’s the lube?” He asks in a raspy voice

“Nightstand”

He got up from the bed and took the plastic bottle on his hand, leaning down to kiss me softly

“I love you Y/N”

“I love you too, Drewy”

He smiles fondly “Turn around, princess”

Drew squirted some of the lube on his length, carefully took out the glass plug and squirted more lube upon my hole, inserting one finger in and out

“Are you ready, love?”

“Drew, stop teasing me” I yelped

“So eager, aren’t you?” He laughs, positioning his cock’s head upon my hole, carefully entering me.

The feeling was...new, the fact that I took my time to prepare myself with the plugs undoubtedly helped, a lot! He entered easier than if I didn’t had, but at the same time Drew is thicker and bigger than the butt plug so the pressure was different. Not hurtful, just new. He was half way in when he stop it.

“Are you ok, baby?” He asks, drawing soothing circles with his palm on my back

“Yeah, it’s just different”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Different...weird” I laughed lightly

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No”

“Y/N, love. Talk to me, I need to know how you’re feeling” Worry surrounding his voice

“It doesn’t hurt or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just that you’re bigger AND thicker than the plug, so it’s a new feeling that’s all. But not bad, you’ve got the green light Scotsman” I joke

“Ok” He chuckled “But if at anytime you feel like you wanna stop, you let me know ok?”

I nod

“I’m serious Y/N, at ANYTIME”

“Noted!” I mock him and gained a hard slap on my ass

Drew slowly moved until he was buried deep inside.

“Motherfucker” He faintly moaned and stayed still for what it felt like ages

“Drew, are you ok back there?” I mock “Aren’t you gonna move?” I ask

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a second” His voice breathless “I need to focus, because you feel too fucking good and I will be damned if I cum just now! So I just needed to breathe” He says and slowly started to move.

The once weird feeling became extremely erotic when he started to move. It was still different, but incredibly good.

“Daddy” I call

And look behind my shoulder to see Drew’s eyes glued to the sight of his cock going in and out of my ass and I could swear, I saw some drool escaping his lips. I’ve never seen him so turned on before and the vision woke up a primal part in me.

“Daddy” I call again, but this time louder

He awakens from his lust haze and stopped moving

“What’s wrong princess? Do ya want daddy to stop?”

“No” I whined “I want daddy to go faster”

“Faster? Are you sure?”

“Yes! Please daddy” My eyes pleaded to him

Drew circled one arm around my waist, pulling me up and out of my in all fours position so I could be kneeling down on the bed and started to increase his pace.

One arm around my waist, another vigorously gripping my hip and a fast pounding got me moaning loudly.

He started to bite my cheek, neck and jaw line, making me lift my arm up so I could bury my fingers on his dark hair, keeping his face glued to mine.

Drew releases his grip upon my hips to roam down and rub my clit.

“In, put it in, please” I babble incoherently but he (thankfully) understood

Entering my core with two fingers and roughly finger fucking me.

It was all too much and too good. His cock inside my hole, his fingers in my core, the biting, the moaning...it was all so dirty and lustful.

“I’m gonna need you to cum princess, Right now!” He mumbled

With two more thrusts I came the most eye rolling orgasm I’ve ever had in my life! I was coming down from my high, when I felt Drew pulling out and the hot spurts of his thick seed landing on my butt cheeks.

I collapse onto the bed, with Drew landing by my side a few seconds later, after cleaning us up.

“That was...beyond this world” I mumbled with my face pressed against the mattress

He laughed loudly before saying

“YOU are beyond this world!” He pulls me towards him like a rag doll, turning me over so I could lay on my back “Are you ok?”

“Drew, I’m fine! More than fine” I giggled

“Are you sure I wasn’t too rough?”

I lightly touch the frown between his eyebrows “You’re never too rough, you’re a perfect gentleman every single time” I pecked his lips

He shyly smiles, slightly blushing

“Thank you for the surprise. I really, really loved” He said and stared at me for a few minutes

“What?” I ask, feeling incredibly exposed due to his intense staring

“You’re so beautiful, on the outside undoubtedly! But on the inside as well. Just so beautiful...I can’t imagine my life without you” His voice is in pure awe

I never knew how to react whenever he said those sort of sweet and deep words to me, Drew was always the romantic one: expressing himself, talking about his feelings and wishes. Me? I was the complete opposite: shut down, didn’t like to show that many emotions, didn’t knew how to express my feelings. I was ‘the ice queen’ as he used to tease me ever since we’ve met. It took me precisely 2 YEARS to take the courage to finally say that I loved him, when he was able to do it after 2 months!

I didn’t knew how to reply to his beautiful, kind, loving words so I decided to deal with it, my way: Break the uncomfortableness with a joke

“Does that means my Voodoo dolls have worked then?” I narrowed my eyes “You got no choice but to stay with me forever, McIntyre” I chanted as if it was a spell

He laughs like a child, cups my cheeks and says

“I do have a choice, love! And I choose you, everyday! Today, tomorrow and forever! My one only gal” He winks and I blushed

Already thinking what other joke could I crack in order to break the spell he casted on me now...

Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre one shot #drew galloway #drew mcintyre #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes

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jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

Note

👑Hewwu Queen 👑 is it alright if I request DIO in part 3 meeting his descendant?. Like he basically had a kid accidentally in part 1 and now he’s meeting their great grandkid who looks allot like him and seems to not be fully human. Maybe he meets them at night since their family was traveling around the world and stopped off in Egypt where he found them maybe listening to music?

Since you write for DIO, is it alright if I request that he somehow meets one of his kid after they get into some time travel shenanigans. Maybe his kid has a stand that is kinda similar to his but they aren’t confident in using it

DIO aiding his helpless descendant

sfw / gn reader

notes/warnings: implied assault (on your great-great grandmother)

Another case of two anons thinking alike!! It was really fun to think about this and sorry for taking so much time to get to it :o I hope you’ll still enjoy 💖✨also the pacing is strange/fast (to me), but i felt it fit with how frantic i imagine meeting Dio is

Somewhere between irking Jonathan and wishing to destroy any respectful sliver of the Joestar bloodline, Dio had his own way of indulging and spending his time. Men, women; any creature he could manipulate to his will and suck the life out of to join his dark army was welcome in his dimly lit hideout to meet their fate. The self proclaimed god that had surmounted humanity took pleasure in playing with his food; leaving them in complete darkness, literally. He’d let them suffer in silence, hearing them whimper and regret their choice to ever step foot inside the wicked monster’s palace. But it was always too late.

Except for the very night Jonathan had decided to come spoil the fun and ruin Dio’s playtime. The woman hadn’t meant anything to him, just a toy to play with and to later discard on the pile of other bodies strewn about. Was she glad to have been saved by the burly Joestar? At first yes; brought back to her senses, out of that monster’s grasp but left terribly violated. Left to carry and care for the offspring Dio would never know or care about, too busy being left to slumber in the ocean and gaining a new form from his hated ‘brother’.

Dio rose again, skulking in the shadows of dimly lit cities, looking for any and all petty humans and stand users to claim for his side. It took time and patience he didn’t know he possessed to get fully comfortable in his new body. There was always this inkling, a nagging sonar that kept getting louder and louder, not much unlike his connection to the new generation of Joestars. It grasped at his thoughts, kept him from any semblance of peace of mind -as much as he could acquire it- and there seemed to be no way of silencing it. He couldn’t see a clear picture; it was just nothing but an annoying sense of something being near.

He had searched for weeks like a bloodhound hot on a trail, irritated that he of all people, nay creations, was being made to follow and be obedient to the terrible nagging. It angered him greatly and only when he found a mere youngster sitting on a bench, you, a simple looking human, did it boil over. Sat with your walkman resting next to you on the wooden seating, head bopping along to your newest cassette in the middle of the night. Completely lost in the song you’d been drumming along to with your fingers. Dio was furious but knew better than to strike before investigating, he needed answers and he needed them now.

As he got closer to you, sneaking from behind, he noticed an immediate shift. You were no longer alone. An image, a blur that became clearer and steadier and more live-like as each second passed; posing defensively, staring down Dio with a fire in your eyes not much unlike the tall blonde’s. Not for a moment does he fear for his safety. Even though The World is a newly acquired power it could easily wipe out a scrawny kid without even hitching a breath. He smirks, eyes cast over in shadow by the dim street light as he hears you pause your cassette player.

“Oh? Was I disturbing you?’ he mocks in a smirk, catching the way your eyes glint and the vaguely familiar image you awaken in him. Just like before he’s left to figure out who this annoying hazy memory is. His voice shivers down your very being, goosebumps taking over your skin; not sure if you had already missed your chance to run. It was like his glare fixated you in place, finger still resting on the pause button of your player while the other reached up to remove the flimsy headphones.

“You…” you barely get out the word. The accusatory tone you had tried to convey had watered down to a whimper. You had felt the connection too, something nagging at your soul and stringing you along until you’d finally found the source. “Me? Hah! No, you.” Dio slid closer, his steps so quiet and calculated that even though you couldn’t take your eyes off of him you swore it seemed like he floated. You swallowed thickly, the huge figure that excluded an aura so menacing only a meter away from you.

“So. Who are you and why was it so disgustingly annoying to find you?” he joked impertinently, amused by the way you clenched your jaw at his remark. “I could ask you the same.” a brave little spark still smouldering inside. “DIO. Now don’t make me ask again, you’re making me dreadfully inpatient.” He hadn’t felt the need to kill you, at least not yet. Dio was truly curious about your answer but by the looks of it you really didn’t seem to know all that much.

You begrudgingly gave him your name, in need of some answers yourself. The sound of your name didn’t ring a single bell, not a tick, not a clank. Nothing. Not a single step further to knowing anything. “Well it seems like you do have a stand. Maybe you possess a great power that might be useful to me.” that wicked grin on his face told you a little too much of his motivations. He reminded you of those Saturday morning cartoon villains. But still you felt compelled to listen, ignoring every single red flag.

Deciding to humour him you give out your stand’s name. “Trust me, we can’t really do much.” you huffed. You’ve only obtained your stand recently and honestly, it has been pretty shitty so far. You didn’t know exactly what it could do, it was just there. Any time you felt stressed or in danger it did come to your aid but it remained awfully docile. Their presence comforted you but you just knew it was capable of so much more.

“Are you a vampire?” The sudden question came out more surprised than Dio had hoped to let on. He regained his posture, opting to slide next to you on the bench with a swift move. There was something… off about the way you carried yourself that reminded him of himself and the other vampires he’d created. The question stunned you, your eyes that had already been widened in shock only growing more so. The way he had changed the entire conversation that had barely earned its start urged you to think quickly. “I don’t know.” you mumbled demurely. You really didn’t know. So many weird things had been happening to you lately that you being a vampire would explain a lot.

Your answer seemed to change the imposing man’s gaze and expression. It hardened a bit, his grin now slowly diminishing into a straighter line and his pointed brows resting down at a more natural angle. Even in this low light his image felt so familiar, like you were already supposed to know who he was but the memory remained hidden. Locked away for your safety. “You should feed. And don’t go out in daylight anymore.” Dio paused for a second. “Strange...” He pondered to himself out loud. He’s only seen a few cases like this, vampiric genes passed down through generations. For some reason he pitied you, as much as he could muster it. The unknown bond you shared felt too unusual to write off.

“What am I supposed to do?” you felt tears prick your eyes, trying your best to remain strong but you’ve been so tired. You couldn't confide in anyone, not about this. Tears started rolling, falling in thick streams down your cheeks and dropping onto your lap. Here you were, crying to a stranger named Dio about being a vampire and having weird powers. A bizarre twist of fate.

“First of all, stop crying. Then, widen your stance when you’re about to fight someone. I could have easily knocked you down with that flimsy imitation. Fix your posture while you’re at it. Call out your stand again.” He rattled off his demands quickly and flatly. Was he helping you? They were barbed complaints but it seemed like he actually wanted to aid you in whatever it was you were going through. You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. You felt like a kid again; asking your parent for any reassurance when life knocked you down.

Dio actually offered a lot of viable advice, telling you about techniques to silence your steps, how to take someone down easily, to feed on humans within an inch of their life. You had asked him, just in case. You weren’t planning on killing anyone; a comment which made him scoff. That intimidating impression and overall feeling of having to bend to his will had lessened the more you talked to the blonde. He casually sat with you for what felt like hours. He hadn’t divulged into his own history, instead asking you about yours. He was still trying to figure out what this weird pull was.

“No one in your family has experienced anything like this before? Hmph. It seems to have skipped multiple generations then.” he was asking about your great grandmother and all the others that came before you. It could have occurred to them but you would have never known. “My family did come from England, though. My great-great grandmother fled in a hurry. We don’t really know why, Windknight’s Lot seems like an unusual place to frantically run from.” As soon as the small town’s name left your lips everything fell into place for Dio. His grin grew again, satisfied to finally know your connection to him.

Family.

One he made for himself, by accident, by a relation created on his own devious whim. Not that horrible Joestar bunch that kept ruining his fun or his horrible father that was but a faint minuscule memory. Something he did. It brought him even more satisfaction to know how perfectly in place it felt for you to be the one to develop these powers at the perfect time. His mind could have exploded with possibilities; a thousand ways to make you join his side. But it didn’t, he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted yet. And he surely wasn’t going to tell you of your bond either, lest you get attached too quickly.

As you finished up and the early signs of a rising sun were starting to make itself known on the horizon, you were saying your goodbye’s. “Thank you for helping me. Truly, I- I don’t know how I-” you weren’t allowed to finish your earnest thanks. Dio knew you meant it, one of the only few truly grateful acknowledgements he’s ever received. “I’ll be taking over the world in a few months. If you feel so inclined to join, you know where to find me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he was making his move to leave you behind, alone on the bench again. Left to scramble for your stuff to try and stop him but he was already out of sight. “WAIT! I don’t know where to find you! You never told me!” you yelled into the empty streets, heart thumping out of your chest, hoping this wasn’t just a very elaborate dream you were caught in.

“Trust your instincts.” The voice felt incredibly close but so far away, like catching a falling snowflake; as soon as you grasped it, it just melted away.

#cozy request #dio x reader #jjba x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo x reader #jjba fic #jjba imagines #jojo's bizarre adventure #NOT INC*ST for the love of all that is good #DIO #sfw #gn reader

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discoclubofvenus · 4 years ago

Text

Smoochin Hotties

Kissing headcanons for Benimaru, Joker, and Obi

Type: Request, Headcanons

Genre: Fluff

Attributes: GN reader

Warnings: Suggestive themes, minor cussing

A/N: OOoooo yeah writing these men had me weak in the knees and I was listening to slowed + reverb music? Ya these were fun to write but also I haven’t proofread them so I apologize in advance lol enjoy~

LAZY!!! KISSES!!

LIPS THAT ARE SWEET (like caramel) AND SOFT BECAUSE HE WONT LET THE DESSERTS THE GRANNYS MAKE FOR HIM GO TO WASTE

Before giving you what you want, he’ll lean his forehead on yours and peck you everywhere but your lips (up until you whine that is)

“Impatient brat I was getting to that part”

I’m talkin this man will drag out the kiss for as long as possible and have the pace be at teasingly slow pace

He likes to take his time with you

This man would let you take control the first time you guys kiss due to him not knowing what to do

Babes is insecure with himself so I feel like he’d be insecure with kissing and would want to know what you like first

Just know this won't be the case for long

Once he’s become more confident in kissing? Just know the makeout sessions will leave you dizzy but that’s a conversation for another day

Benimaru the type to pull you in by your hips and makeout with you once you guys are alone (some grinding will happen as well)

He will spare but a few kisses in public, he’d rather keep all of his affection for you behind closed doors so he won’t have to hold back or worry about his image

A forehead kiss for sure (I read a fic about him giving reader a forehead kiss and now I can’t get it out my head)

Most of his public affections includes: lips grazing over your cheek, short hugs, an arm around your waist, a hand at your back--chile...let me get back to the kisses

He loves it whenever you kiss his lips, it’s incredibly straightforward and he enjoys having your lips on his but shall I raise you….kissing his hands? Specifically the hands which protect everything he loves and cares for? A good way to melt this man’s heart

He’ll return your affection with a hug to his chest and a kiss to your temple, which is the most sensitive part of your head, in a way to silently say he’ll protect and cherish even the softest parts of you (I’m SOFT THE WAY I LOVE THIS MAN)

Beni also likes to kiss the middle of your chest right before he lays down on your chest for a nap fleiuwbfliuwebf

Everytime Benimaru kisses you, it’s either to tease you or give a hidden message

Him kissing your shoulder could be read as ‘Thank you for always supporting me through the celebrations and the heartbreak’

But he would equally kiss your ear just to fluster you

I keep on daydreaming about kissing Beni instead of writing plz give a minute

When he kisses you, he would rub circles on your waist with his thumb

PLAY WITH HIS HAIR WHILE YOU KISS! ON GOD THIS MAN WILL PHYSICALLY MELT INTO YOUR EMBRACE

He loves kisses especially since he knows that all of your kisses are reserved for him and vice versa

The first time you kissed him you blew this man’s world away

Mornings with Benimaru always seemed like they should be a part of your dreams. The dawn of a new day gently shakes you awake and the sunrise has never failed to stop its onslaught of kisses to your face. Much like you planned to with Benimaru. Shifting closer to Benimaru’s face, you cupped his cheek and took a moment to study his face. The man always had a relaxed face but it seems as though he reached a new level of peace in his sleep. Carefully you placed butterfly kisses all over his face, which caused him to leave his own dreams. The tell-tell signs of Benimaru waking up only spurred you to press a loving kiss onto his lips. And just like in the fairytales, your lover was awakened by a true love’s kiss. The kiss didn’t last too long as you only did it to wake up the ravenette yet he had a different plan. Feeling his forehead lean onto yours, you both stared into each other’s eyes and savored the serene atmosphere with a kiss.

After your first kiss, Benimaru prefers to start the day with your kisses and he also likes to end his day with them as well

Benimaru is a fan of hugging you from behind and planting kisses on your head

He always has a comment ready after you guys kiss, it could either be snarky or incredibly sweet (In private it's usually the ladder)

Another one who will kiss you to either give hidden messages that he’s not able to properly convey verbally, or to tease the hell out of you

The most common kiss will be the corner of your lips (to tease) and the back of your shoulder (to show that he will always have your back)

If he’s really in love with you, he’ll jokingly kiss your knuckles (as a gentleman should, but one day he hopes to be able to walk the world with your hands linked without having to worry about anything)

His kisses really depend on his mood (if we’re being completely honest)

If he’s feeling energetic then his kisses will leave you in a haze of pleasure

If he’s feeling soft then you would be able to feel the love he has for you in every kiss (period)

When he kisses you, he will quickly turn it into a makeout session because who is he to deny his desire for having your lips in every way possible?

I say this to say that he will bite your tongue/lower lip every time you guys kiss (every time. Without fail.)

If you bite back you’re literally asking for a rough makeout session

He loves kissing your shoulder and any sensitive spots that you have on your body (be it your neck, side, ear, etc)

He enjoys the fact you’re only this vulnerable around him

He also likes whispering in your ear (about his love for you or blatant dirty talk) between each kiss

When you guys are walking together, elbows linked, and he kisses your temple *swooon* (which is extremely rare so treasure it while it lasts)

Don’t expect him to allow affection while you guys are out in public together, yes he’s suave and charming, but he’s also wanted by many enemies. Whatever trouble he gets into, Joker doesn’t want it traced back to you.

He doesn’t want you to be caught in any danger for just being associated with him

Whenever you guys are dancing to some soft jazz and he presses his lips on yours and makes you see stars

I imagine his scent to be overwhelming when you’re kissing him and his goal is to make you see stars everytime you kiss

He also likes kissing the inside of your thighs

He’s the type to grab you by your chin and kiss you, or he’ll keep an arm around your waist and a hand on your ass

His lips taste like cigarettes, Hennesy, a hint of vanilla (bc of his chapstick), and desperation

I don’t recommend playing with his hair while you kiss, however, he’d love for you to grab the back of his neck

Something about you being just as crazy about him as he is about you gets to him

He definitely has experience in the kissing field (he’s had hoes before) but if you want him to Joker will go at any pace you want him to

He treasures every kiss with you as if it might be his last (cuz it might be tbh plus he isn’t sure how long your relationship will last)

He’s the type to not put a label on your relationship and is super vague about it (it’s his trust issues) but he’ll just follow what you say

When Joker wants kisses, he will get kisses damn it

He’ll kiss you in front of Viktor which Viktor will mean mug Joker and just be on his way (“I refuse to be in the same presence as a couple of horn dogs”)

It was an embarrassing first kiss

Knocking was heard throughout your apartment as you finished putting the food in the oven. ‘Well they’re early..’ you thought before yelling out a “Coming!” to acknowledge the people on the other side of the door. Making your way to the front door, you took a deep breath to calm your excitement before opening the door to see your boyfriend (and his associate of course).

Joker held a mischievous glint in his eye as he observed your elated form. Originally he leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead and hug...however, he changed his mind mid-action. Instead, Joker found his lips meeting yours in an innocent little kiss. The same little kiss soon started to become heated as he pulled you flush against his body. The party only stopped when a loud “AHEM.” broke through the trance you two were in. Immediately you had let out a sound to signify your embarrassment and let the two men in. You were never gonna be able to live this one down, you could feel it in Joker’s piercing gaze on you.

Every time you two kiss, you can literally taste the adoration he has for you on his lips

Each kiss is remembered, either from a strange situation that brought forth the kiss or little quirks that happens during the act

What can he say? The man likes to keep you on your toes

Speaking of keeping you on your toes…

Obi is definitely the type to pick you up, spin you around and kiss you

It both shows off his strength and he gets a kiss from the love of his life, he will continue doing this until he no longer can

He’s also the type to kiss any body part that you’re insecure of

Got a lazy eye? Here’s a kiss on the eyelid of said eye

You got rolls? He’s kissin em (and may even leave a mark there or nibble them)

Your hands are full of scars and thighs full of stretch marks? Here’s a shit load of kisses

Obi likes to pick you up, sit you on countertops/surfaces and kiss you (you can’t change my mind)

It was totally and completely unprovoked when Obi had decided to pick you up. Where he was taking you, you hadn’t a clue. However you got a nice view of his backside—so this was a fair trade right? Just as you were reaching to grab his golden buns, you were sat on top of your kitchen’s countertop. Questions of ‘what in the hell does this man have planned?’ And ‘I should be surprised but I’m not’ filled your mind. Keeping a steady gaze on Obi’s own golden orbs, the both of you engaged in a staring contest. Another thing that was triggered unprovoked. Yet, when you blinked Obi’s face was getting closer to yours, and the next thing that you know you guys are kissing--making out even. In the kitchen, with the rest of the brigade waiting on the meal. That you guys were supposed to be cooking. Oops.

You guys got caught by Hinawa and were scolded to high hell and back about wasting other’s time

He likes to give you the look (*exhibit a: his banner) right before he swoops in and kisses you

He knows it makes you weak in the knees and he is 10000% using that to his disadvantage

If you wear lipstick/lip gloss he loves the little lip marks you leave on him

Giving him forehead kisses, kisses on the corner of his lips, or a kiss right between his eyes makes him blush so badly

He thinks it’s so precious you kiss him there especially when you pair it with an “I love your golden heart but please use your head ya damn himbo”

Gives the man butterflies

He will smother kisses all over your face, anytime he has an opportunity and you guys always play fight so you can get away from his ‘attacks of love’ (I’m literally so soft for this man, why ain’t he real)

He will hold in such a warm and secure hold every time you guys kiss

Kisses are also a good distraction for him because he’s always thinking about how can he improve, what can he do to further the brigade 8’s cause, missions, past missions, is he doing the right thing?

One kiss will help soothe his running thoughts and bring him back to reality

He loves them so much

Can’t resist your puppy dog eyes when you want to kiss him (he’ll only supply you a simple peck but back to the mission with you sunflower!)

Often gives you a forehead kiss after every mission is completed and everyone is loading into the truck

Will lightly tease you if you can’t get enough of his kisses (which is completely understandable cuz me too)

His lips are soft and they don’t taste too sweet, it’s like a fruity mint taste (like that ice breaker candy) but he loves dragging out kisses into makeout sessions

Obi is the type who will show affection in public and if a quick kiss in the alleyway leads to a makeout session….well he’s not complaining

He will want to hurry and get home though

#fire force imagines #fire force imagine #fire force fanfiction #fire force x reader #obi akitaru #Obi x reader #Obi imagines #Obi imagine #Akitaru Obi x reader #Fire force joker #Joker x reader #Fire force joker imagine #Benimaru shinmon #Benimaru x reader #Benimaru imagine #Benimaru imagines #Joker imagine

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whittakerjodie · 4 years ago

Text

The Carriage Ride (13th Doctor X Reader)

For: The wonderful Jenny, @myghostmonument , as part of the secret Santa exchange for the Thirsting For Thirteen server.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Happy secret Santa, Jenny! I am so glad to know you and have the privilege of writing a piece for you <3 I hope that you enjoy this and the funny little alien names!

“Wish we could’ve arrived with the first snowfall,” The Doctor said sadly.

The two of you had decided to take a solo trip together. Yaz was feeling a bit tired and needed to see her sister for a bit. There was an opportunity for you, too, to take a small break on Earth. But the idea of spending time with the Doctor one-on-one was much more appealing than the pulls of daily life.

“I think it’s alright, still,” You said, defending your current scenario. The planet where you’d landed was still absolutely stunning. Even with a couple inches of snow covering most features, it was easy to appreciate that which you could see. The sky was a light lavender, darkest in the areas where there were clouds. Delicate flecks of snow fluttered to the ground, adding to the previously built layers.

It was beautiful, and you were happy to be there. The Doctor had explained the planet and it’s fun little backstory on the ride over, but truthfully, you’d not been paying attention. You knew it was Christmas, or at the very least a Christmas-adjacent holiday for the locals. The aesthetic certainly fit the bill, something you were sure was what persuaded the Doctor to bring you there.

“Yeah?” the Doctor asked, seeking a little extra validation. You nodded, giving it to her easily. She certainly deserved it, after the tough time you’d all had recently. “Well, good. There’s tons to do here. Hot cocoa- or, something that tastes like it at least. Sledding, carriage rides…”

“Oooh, like a horse drawn carriage?” You asked. The Doctor nodded. She stepped closer to you, linking her arm through yours as she led you towards an unknown destination.

“Not horse drawn, qauwukdeen drawn!” she said cheerfully. You scoffed.

“Say that five times fast.” When the Doctor opened her mouth, you clarified: “not actually, just a funny name. So what do they look like.”

“Like horses.” The Doctor replied bluntly. You laughed.

“So, just horses with a funny name then. Interesting.”

Despite their format matching that of an Earth horse, the creatures still deviated in appearance. It’s mane seemed to be a collage of differently colored tentacles, all twisting and flowing with a mind of their own, without consideration for the wind. It was beautiful, like watching a rainbow solidify and dance. It’s hair was a mint green, mixing nicely with the snow it was walking through. There was only one per carriage, but the Doctor explained that the qauwukdeen were born with an immense strength. Pulling a carriage solo would be the equivalent of a feather for the creature.

It was a few minutes wait so that the qauwukdeen could eat a nice meal, but you didn’t mind. The Doctor's arm was still linked with yours, which was a welcomed, warm presence. Other couples smiled at you as they passed on their way to other festivities. Your face warmed then, too. Other couples. Implying that you and the Doctor were one.

Eventually, it was your turn to go on the carriage ride. You winced when you saw how big the step up was. Luckily, the Doctor was more than willing to help. Standing behind you, she gently set both of her hands on your waist. You jumped a little at the blazing hot, unexpected contact. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice your blip. If she did, she only used it to her advantage to successfully lift you up into the carriage.

Feeling bold and as if you should return the favor, you offered your hand to the timelord once you were in your seat. She accepted it with a wide grin, leaving her hand in yours once she was able to pull herself up. The two of you sat comfortably in the carriage, and it began to pull you off into the luscious, thick forest. It was rather dark, but the moonlight reflected on the snow to provide enough visibility. You gasped as the qauwukdeen pulled you farther and farther away from the town, giving you a tour of the incredible mountain passes that surrounded it. The landscape was beyond incredible. The Doctor was a little bit more relaxed, being accustomed to alien scenery.

Unfortunately, the relaxation didn’t last long. Almost a half an hour into the ride, you suddenly felt tense. By that point, you’d naturally gravitated towards the Doctor and were leaning your weight into her. Because of this, she could feel your tension. She pulled back, frowning. “What’s wrong?” She asked. You shrugged, looking at the scenery around you. Everything just suddenly seemed a little darker, a little colder. Interestingly enough, the qauwukdeen seemed to share your feelings. It slowed it’s pace ever so slightly. The decrease in footfall made it easier for you to pick up on the new movements. Something was coming out of the forest, towards you.

Even your high nerves paled in comparison to those of the qauwukdeen, which began to buck and cry out, fighting to get away from whatever mysterious creature was approaching. Unfortunately, it was partially attached to the carriage. While it attempted escape, it took you with it, throwing you into a sequence of movements that could only be described as chaos.

Your stomach swung in time with the carriage as you were thrown from side to side, the qauwukdeen taking off at a breakneck pace. The Doctor tried to grab onto you to stabilize both of your movements, but it was no use. The carriage, in the midst of moving so chaotically, suddenly collided with one of the many thick trees of the forest. You let out a loud yelp as you were tossed from your seat into the snow. It was a soft landing, thankfully, but the cold was jarring nonetheless.

You spat the snow out of your mouth with a disgusted groan, shifting your wait so that you were sitting upward. Unfortunately, the movement seemed to connect something in your body and you were suddenly aware of an intense pain in your foot. Hissing, you tried to bring it closer as some form of comfort to yourself. It did nothing to ease the pain.

You could hear more footsteps on snow, drawing closer, and were very happy to note that it was the Doctor coming towards you. Her face was contorted with concern, snow falling off of her as she ran to meet you on the ground.

“Alright?” She asked, brushing some of the snow off you. As the pain began to spread, you shook your head quickly. The Doctor carefully inspected your foot with a deep frown. “Not broken, thankfully, but it went through quite a bit in the crash.”

“What about you?” You asked. Then, you gasped when your eyes fell on a large mark on her face. “Amazing, actually, considering. Don’t worry about the face, just the qauwukdeen panicking a little. They’re alright, more worried about getting home on time for a visit with their son. You mind if I pick you up?”

“Pick…” You trailed off, cheeks warming hot enough to melt the snowflakes resting on them. She was only offering because of your foot, you told yourself. Shakily, you answered “Sure.”

The Doctor awkwardly eased her arms underneath your body, one supporting your back and the other your legs. As she pulled you both upward, you found yourself pressed tightly against her. She seemingly took little note of the close proximity, carrying you back over to the site of the crash. You gasped, a short cloud of breath breaking through the cold winter air. The carriage was in ruins; the qauwukdeen was staring down at the splintered wood, uninjured.

“No chance of fixing the carriage I reckon” The Doctor said. Your eyes widened; You had felt the words vibrate in her chest as they moved through the air. It was a feeling you loved and tucked away in your mind to cherish later. “We’ll have to hitch a ride back on Justine, and I can pay for the damages when we get there”

By now, the pair of you were right next to the creature, who was apparently known as “Justine?”

“Yup, that's their name! Don’t worry about not knowing it, they say they only give it out to the “cool” customers. Guess we fall under that criteria!” You chuckled lightly and reached out to pet Justine's incredible mane, shivering at the odd sensation as the tentacle-like strands ran through your fingers. Justine made an appreciative noise, and the Doctor smiled down at you.

“Are you comfortable sitting in the back? That way I can have better control. You can hang on to me if you need.”

“Yeah, that’s fine” The Doctor, already holding you up, used it to her advantage and lifted you onto Justine’s back easily. There was a slight strain on your foot still, but not enough for it to be unbearable. Still, when you winced, the Doctor paused and stared for a good long moment. You smiled a little to let her know she didn’t have to worry, and she unfroze. It was easy enough to believe that the Doctor had previous riding experience, as she easily climbed utop Justine and grasped her reins.

Your hands stayed down by your side, despite the Doctor’s offer to hang on to her. It felt a little too intimate, too close. Because you weren’t hanging on, the Doctor took things easy and Justine moved slowly back towards town. It was comfortable, and gave you enough time to appreciate the scenery even more. However, due to the speed, it was taking a lot longer to get back into town. The later into the night it got, the heavier your eyelids grew and the more effort it took to hold up your body.

After your third loud yawn, the Doctor reached back and calmly grasped your arms, leading them to rest around her waist. It drew your entire body closer to her, until your full weight relied on her strong figure. The warmth that greeted you as your head naturally tucked into the crook of her neck was unparalleled. Although the entire situation was designed to pull you into rest, it instead made you awaken further. As Justine picked up a little speed, you dedicated your time to memorizing the contour of your shape against hers.

Parting with Justine was a little bittersweet, but there was no time for goodbyes. According to the Doctor, they were 10 minutes late to go see their son. The Doctor apologized, and the qauwukdeen ran off as soon as their gear was removed. Other qauwukdeen’s followed as the carriage rides ended for the night. The Doctor paid for the damages to the carriage, despite the owners reassurances. Then, she turned back to you. For the last few minutes, you’d been sitting on one of the town's benches, waiting for business to wrap up.

“You sit tight, yeah? I’ll bring the TARDIS ‘round” You nodded happily, watching her disappear. Your body was still buzzing from the contact, every molecule asking whether there was more to come. Truthfully, you didn’t know. Certainly, things felt a little close the whole night, but there was still a giant chasm to cross. Telling anyone that you loved them was hard, but it was exponentially worse when that certain someone was an immortal time travelling alien that seemed to be operating on a different plane of existence at all times.

Just when you thought you were resolved to stay silent forever, the familiar Vwhorp, Vwhorp sounded. Blue walls began to appear around you. It was home, now. And the best feature of that home was standing just ahead of you, finishing up her work at the console. The lights of the TARDIS casted a warm glow over her head, and the cold you’d faced throughout the day was suddenly forgotten entirely. There was simply no way to keep silent. At least not entirely.

The Doctor helped you off the bench, not caring that she had stolen it from the quaint little town. “Feeling better dear?”

“Yeah, a lot better” Your blood rushed a little as the two of you casually moved past the word dear.

After telling her you were more awake then before, the Doctor had brought you to the TARDIS library for some more relaxation. Once you were settled on the couch she created a large fire, shutting out any cold that might remain. Then, she took a seat next to you. You stared at her for a moment, before your eyes drifted to her hand, which rested against her thigh.

She perked up a little, considering her hand in yours. “Doctor,” You murmured. “You know that I appreciate you, don’t you?”

Her eyes brightened, and she set her other hand on top of your conjoined ones, monopolizing the gesture. “I appreciate you too, Y/N. Where’s this coming from?”

“Doesn’t come from anywhere or- well, maybe it just comes from everywhere” You admitted. Be brave, you whispered in your head. “All of these adventures… I love it. I love-”

“I love you too” The Doctor broke through your courageous admittance. Her eyes widened a little, then a lot. “Was that not-”

Her hands began to slip away from yours, and you grasped them even tighter. “Doctor! You love me?”

You both stared at one another, neither sure of what to say. The Doctor seemed more shocked then you, like she hadn’t been planning her words like you had. Her lifetimes of skills kicked in, though, as she pulled your hand up to her mouth and kissed the back of it gently.

“I do love you,” She whispered softly, caressing the spot where she’d left a kiss with her thumb. “If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, “ You laughed breathlessly. “Doctor, I love you too.”

“Oh, Y/N,” She sighed. “You don’t know what it means for me to hear that.”

You grinned, moving forward to embrace her in full. She accepted the hug, her head nestling against your shoulder.

“You know, earlier, when you were holding on to me… I kept wondering if I’d ever get a chance to hold you like that” Her arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t keep you secured. “Now I know what it feels like.”

She said it so relieved, like she’d been waiting centuries, eons, just to have you there in her arms. The two of you leaned your full weight into one another, burying yourselves in the knowledge that you both felt the same: warm, safe, and most importantly, loved.

#13th Doctor #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #secret santa #13th Doctor x reader

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funtimefishy · 4 years ago

Text

As Time Ticked On

request: no request! came from my own big fat juicy brain :)

word count: 1303 (kinda a long one this time)

warnings: slight mention of gore, usage of f***

canonical inconsistencies: of course, Foxy has no springlock costume in the maingame lore. thats about it.

A/N: hii!! ive been working on this short writing piece for the past week and yeah. heres a heads up: the dialogue in here is quite unnatural so please try to ignore it and pretend im a really good writer. thank you and enjoy!!

extra: gender neutral reader :) also, this is NOT a ROMANTIC fnaf x reader post!! this is a 1 part story :)

Your eyes opened, awakening you from your long slumber. It was unbelievably dark. Where were you? You felt your arms pinned close to your side in a very cramped space, with sharp unknown objects jabbing your back in various places, making it uncomfortable to move. Your head was pounding. That’s right, you thought. You remembered what had happened. You remembered seeing a man lure a child into a back room. You remembered seeing the horrifying events that followed. You remembered that same man knocking you unconscious with his bare hands when he realized you had seen what happened. You remembered your vision flickering in and out as you were dragged across the black and white checkered floor and into a room hidden away from the main building. That man is the reason you’re here… wherever “here” is. You tried to wiggle a bit, yet you found it difficult to move.

You heard a door open from across the room as your breathing went from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds. Light from the outside rooms leaked in for a minute and you saw the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. Light footsteps walked forward onto the tile flooring as the door closed behind them. Someone was in the room with you. The lights soon flickered on and the room became illuminated. You were temporarily blinded.

You were in the backroom, but you were inside of something. You could see out of two holes, aligned with your eyes, into the surrounding room. The room was pretty empty; three or four arcade machines against the wall with empty black shelves mounted above. The floor was checkered with black and white, different from the dining area checkered floor, which was blue and red. Grime added the slightest bit of texture to the plain walls that made up the room you sat in.

And there was the man. He wore a white button-up shirt with a black tie. He wore black khakis with a belt that seemed unnecessary. It was apparent he was some kind of employee at Freddy’s. The nametag neatly pinned to his shirt read “Dave.”

You took notice of the thing you were inside of. Through the two holes, possibly eyeholes, you could see some kind of long reddish-tan snout with a black oval nose at the tip, resembling some kind of dog-like animal. Something clicked in your mind. You realized what you were in. You were, in fact, inside an animatronic costume, but not just any. You were inside the fox animatronic you saw over in Pirate Cove; Foxy. That explained the very claustrophobic environment. Strange place to stash away a person, you thought.

“Good morning, early bird!” A strident voice boomed and echoed into the empty room. “I see you’re awake. Perfect.”

“Fuck you.” You said with a croaky voice. “You think you’re gonna get away with this?”

“I already have.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Get comfortable: you’re gonna be sitting there for a bit longer.”

“The police will know about this. I’ll tell them.”

“Well, I guess that’s just more reason to kill you.” The man said. You gulped.

“What, you think I’m scared of you?” You barked. You were scared. “I’ll gouge your eyes out with my two bare hands if you even think about getting close to me.”

“Oh, really?” The man walked towards the suit and crouched down to eye level, staring into the suit and your scared eyes. He lowered his voice to a whisper only the two of you could hear.

“How are you gonna do that if you’re trapped inside that suit, silly bunny?” He grinned. He was right. You couldn’t even think about where you were gonna go until you were out of this suit. He rose and walked to the other side of the room, where he sat backward on a chair, facing you.

“How long will I be sitting here?” You hesitantly asked. Maybe sitting here would give you time to think of an escape, though that was unlikely.

“Until closing time in nine hours.” The man clapped his hands once and made finger guns, pointing at you, grinning with a wide and crooked smile. “Then we can play a game, sound good?” The man excitedly explained.

“Listen here,” You took notice of his nametag again. “Dave. I’ll find a way out before then.” You assured the man. “I know I will.” You wiggled in the suit again, hoping it would magically fall off.

“The name is William, actually, and I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You mean like… like this? You shook inside of the suit again, chuckling. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Alright, unless you want to become one of those things on the stage just outside this room, I would recommend you don’t shake inside of the costume.” You halted your childish antics and paid attention to the words William said.

“You mean... I’ll become an animatronic?” You seriously asked. “How does that even make sense?”

“Don't you know what you’re in, darling?” William asked. “They’re called springlock costumes, and they’re my invention. Hold the applause.”

“I’m inside of Foxy’s suit; so what?”

“It’s a complex thing to explain, but one sharp movement and those springlocks will snap instantly, letting go of the animatronic parts being held in place and violently slamming them into your body, leaving deep cuts and scabs everywhere. It’s a very slow and painful death, and you’re lucky it hasn’t happened already. Your breathing and talking have already loosened the springlocks, and you don’t want that to happen, silly bunny.”

You gulped knowing that you sped up the process of your own painful death. As if you weren’t scared already, now you had to sit in fear that your life could very likely be cut short instantaneously. You were scared to talk. You were scared to breathe. You were scared to move. Any breath or word could be your last, and that thought terrified you.

“What’s wrong, pet?” William chuckled. “You’re quiet. Cat got your tongue? Don’t be scared, I’ll be sitting right here with you.”

“All the more reason to be scared.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you, say it louder, please.” William sarcastically teased, followed by a short maniacal laugh.

“Fuck you.” You repeated. You didn’t like William’s carelessness. You didn’t like anything about William. Did he not realize that he had you awaiting your death? What kind of sick person does that? As unfortunate as it was, there was nothing you could do about it. If you dared to move, chances were it’d be the last movement you’d make. Plus, William was sitting right there, so there was no chance of you escaping with him around.

“Opening time is in a few minutes,” William spoke in a soft tone. He sprung out of the chair. “I’ll be back later, darling. Don’t go anywhere, not that you can.” You didn’t reply. He paced to the same door he entered from and swung it open. William gave a little friendly wave and slipped away from the door, it closing behind him. He was kind enough to leave the lights on.

~~~

As time ticked on, your fear steadily increased, as you were unaware of William’s plans or intentions. The singing of the animatronic mascots on stage bounced around the walls. The pure laughter of children having fun could be heard. You’ve dealt with difficult situations in the past; everyone has. However, those problems were always temporary and solvable. For the first time in years, this was the problem you could not solve. For the first time in years, you found yourself crying because you were scared. For the first time in forever, you feared for your life.

#five nights at freddys #fnaf #fnaf writing #william afton #dave miller #springlock #fnaf 1 #fnaf 2 #fnaf 3 #fnaf 4 #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #this is so many tags omg #but theres more #foxy the pirate #foxy the fox #ok thats it

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 15)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I have (thankfully) been writing regularly and by all accounts I can allow myself to post an extra chapter or two here or there, so, considering this was supposed to be part of one chapter/interaction before Ivar’s departure towards Dublin, here ya go.

I’m kinda proud of this chapter lol, I like writing Ivar and the Priestess arguing, I find it very fun which may be a big reason why this is such a bore and drags on so much lol. I hope you like it, and I look forward to hearing from you! <3

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr

The door to his rooms makes a loud sound behind you, and though he stays silent you can feel his blue eyes on you as you pace in the room, trying to find some fucking words.

Finally, you find a seat on one of the lounges by one of the windows, the furthest one you can find to the bed you have avoided looking at since learning you are to be his wife.

“You’ll leave me alone here.” You mutter before you can keep the words from leaving your lips. You notice Ivar stop and turn to you, but you keep your gaze on the floor a few feet from you, gritting your teeth.

“What?”

“Your people, they hate me or…or fear me. I don’t want to be surrounded by people I cannot trust.”

The implication that you trust him is heavy on your tongue and on your heart, but he does not dwell on it, instead offering,

“Then find thralls or…or shieldmaidens you can count on.”

“Why don’t you pick them?”

“You insist on believing otherwise, but you are not my prisoner. I will not force strangers to be at your side.”

You find his eyes wondering if he truly hears himself speak, but choose not to confront him about how he has very much so insisted on forcing strangers to be at your side. Him as a husband, mainly.

Instead, you insist, “But now you’ll leave me alone here.”

“You’d rather come with me?”

You offer honestly, because what is there to lose with truths, “I’d rather be home, where it’s warm and something other than bloodthirst grows.”

“Miss it all you want, you won’t return there.”

You stand up, approaching one of the windows. Even if your back is turned to the King, you still feel his eyes on you.

“You won’t be the first man to try to chain me.”

“I am not like other men.” He replies with an unsettling calm about him, the promise of not only trying but succeeding in chaining you if he wishes it so.

Turning around, you insist, “My very blood makes me belong to them. Athens, and Sparta, Greece; it’ll summon me to return sooner or later.”

“Fate summoned you here,” He reminds you with cruel arrogance as he walks closer to you, “You belong here with me.”

But you shake your head, stubborn, “I am their Daughter!”

“You’ll be my wife!” His shouted command makes the blood in your veins grow cold, and you grit your teeth but stay silent, your eyes on his with prideful anger. “And I do not want to hear anymore about you returning there,” You start to smile, a mocking smile of the promise that you will not desist, but Ivar grabs at the back of your neck, forcing your eyes to face his and your arrogance to face his wrath, “You will not leave me.”

You grit your teeth and feel the fury bubbling under your skin. He towers over you, with but a move of his hand he could leave you with a knife deep in your heart, but you do not feel fear.

Putting your wrists together, you offer them to the King.

“Put the shackles on, then. Force me, Ivar the Boneless.”

With a snarl of his own, he takes his hand off the back of your neck and grabs your wrists, both of them fitting tightly in one of his rough hands. He brings you closer to him, fast breaths caressing your face as he regards you with a combination of fury and desperation.

“I want you to want me.”

I do want you. Your foolish heart whispers, but you only regard the King with hard, even if tear-filled, eyes.

“I want my home and my people, Ivar.”

“This could be your home; these could be your people!”

“I owe Attica and the G-…”

He rolls his eyes and a gesture of his head emphasizes the tiredness he feels at this repeated argument, “Would you let go of that fucking place already?”

“Did you let go of Kattegat? Have you let go of Queen Aslaug?” You retort without hesitation, “Why are you asking me to forgo my people, my vow?”

He presses his lips together, his nose furrows in a snarl, but he doesn’t lash out. He is clearly trying to control his anger, and the surprise it ignites in you makes your own fury uncoil from your chest.

After a few angry breaths, he points a finger at you, and replies, “Because it’s not the only vow you made. And you don’t want to return, not really.”

You blink, taken aback, and if pride hadn’t stopped you, you would have taken a step back, you would have retreated.

Shaking your head, you retort, “This place, this…this kingdom. All that blossoms here is death and war, this could never be my home.”

Ivar merely scoffs in response, looking between your eyes and the rest of your body in the red dress. He studies you with a knowing gaze that makes you uncomfortable, like he can ignore everything else and see your shame, your hunger underneath. Like he never stops seeing the shadow of who you are supposed to be, the shadow he saw across a battlefield when you killed that Viking.

Leaning even closer to you, he whispers, “You want death and war, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Nothing could stop you if you truly wanted to leave.”

“I do want to leave.”

He doesn’t hesitate, he shakes his head with a downturn of his mouth, disbelieving and nonchalant.

“It’s not all you want. Pretend otherwise if you wish, Priestess, but you want to see those Saxons bleed as much as any of us.”

You lick your lips, tasting wrath and a hint of freedom, but shame keeps your lips sealed, until you can give him the answer you should,

“You kill for entertainment, Viking, don’t compare me to you.” You don’t believe your own words, they sound desperate and frail.

“You made a vow to kill Stithulf, you let him live because you wanted to win before you killed him, isn’t that right? If I said you were free to go tomorrow, would you let go of Stithulf? Would you return to your burnt kingdom or would you finish what you started, hm?” He insists, and at your silence, he laughs darkly. Leaning back, he boasts, “You have thought about it, haven’t you? What you would do were he to be in front of you, were you to win.

Gritting your teeth but biting your tongue, you return your eyes to the barren horizon outside the window. You feel the Viking’s piercing gaze on you, but you refuse to acknowledge him.

With a cold and delighted tone in his voice, the Viking continues as he leans closer again, words a breath in your ear,

“Pretend to long only for freedom all you like, but can you say if I were to put a sword in your hands you would still choose to care for the wounded?”

“I can do both,” You bite out, keeping your gaze firmly set ahead. Your head moves to the side, involuntarily giving him access to your neck. You feel hot breaths against your bare skin, and a trail of goosebumps chases after the touch. You find yourself once again hoping he assumes your quickened breath is born out of fear and not lust. “Wanting revenge does not mean I’m without compassion.”

“But revenge comes first, doesn’t it?” He insists, his hand trapping your wrist again and showing you the bloodstains on the sleeve of the old Byzantine dress, the same you wore the day you tasted blood for the first time. Ivar whispers your name, his next words awakening something in you as they reach your ear, “Not very different, you and I.”

You still shake your head, wrenching your hand out of his grasp, “I want to do what is best for my people, I want to be with them.”

“You want to make Stithulf bleed, like you wanted to make that warrior outside the walls bleed.” Ivar corrects, and even if you want to ask him why he is so bent on you accepting this darkness, accepting this shame, this chaos; you instead voice, stubborn,

“That Viking was trying to kill me.”

But he doesn’t let you get away, shaking his head and saying certainly, “You could have run after you injured him. Like when you held that knife in front of the Saxon, you had so many choices. And you chose to hurt.”

Your shame begs you to deny this, to say you never wanted to be anything more than the Anassa that your people needed, to say that even after all the fire and pain you only want to rest your head on fields of wildflowers. But your heart, your heart reminds you that the mantle of the pure and virtuous leader became so suffocating that you gave it to the man that sold you all to the Saxons, reminds you that there’s little you wouldn’t do, including delaying your return to Attica, to make Stithulf suffer.

Still, you shake your head and with hoarse voice argue,

“Priestesses a-…”

Ivar slams a hand on the wall in front of you, interrupting your words, “To Hel with that! What do you want? Your people are gone, you owe nothing to them,” His voice lowers, becomes rougher, hungrier, when he adds, “You are all alone here with me, and I want to hear you speak the truth.”

You close your eyes through a deep breath, trying to voice the responsibilities and wants, the truths and the lies, that bind you and tighten around your throat with every moment you even consider feeling happy in this place, at the side of its King.

Letting yourself fall, you sit on one of the soft chairs and hold on tight to the fur underneath you.

Your voice trembles, and you cannot open your eyes, but you offer anyways, “If I choose this path, if I…choose death, revenge; then w-what kind of leader am I? My people count on me, Ivar, they expect me to be…to be…”

“Someone you are not?” He supplies, and he already knows the answer.

You shrug your shoulders, “Maybe. They followed me, they believed in me. I have to be who they want me to.”

Ivar moves closer, taking a seat next to you with a barely-there grunt of pain.

“You are dead now, though.” He offers quietly.

You open your eyes with a startle, and find him already watching you with his hand by his mouth.

“What?”

Ivar shrugs, as if the answer is clear, “You are here, and they have no idea you survived me. To them, you are dead, in a realm their hopes can’t reach you,” He leans forward again, closer to you. You should want to move away, not closer. The King insists, quietly, intensely, “The Priestess is dead, who will you choose to be now?”

Instead of giving him an answer you don’t have, because that is a question you never asked yourself and no one thought about asking you, you look into his eyes and offer,

“I want Stithulf dead. I want to kill him myself so that when he reaches the Underworld the dead know who he is, and whom he wronged.”

And you realize, as you realized when you first promised to kill that Saxon, that the words are truer than you could have imagined. That the elders back in Eleusis were right, that when you voice things you make them true and dangerous.

You find that you do not mind making that a reality.

The King breathes a delighted laugh, and he looks at you like he’s starving for whatever he sees in you when he focuses his pale eyes. You find yourself having to school your features to keep your mouth from smiling back because even if it hurts, even if it claws at your insides with shame and promises of failure; admitting your darkness somehow makes you a little freer, like you have just let go of an old wreath of flowers.

“Your blood is that of the Greeks’, Priestess, but your heart is like ours.”

____

It unsettles you quite a bit how you don’t seem to need to talk to the Viking for you both to understand a silent agreement. You didn’t leave his room, he didn’t ask you to; and you settled quietly in one of the seats by the window while he walked somewhere behind you to take off the braces of his legs.

Like that night you spent in Dublin, in some house that smelled of old wood; like countless times before, the healer in you wonders how painful those contraptions actually are. A curious part of you wants to ask who designed them, how they came up with them; but you remember his reaction when you looked at him taking them off in Dublin, how he still reacts whenever you turn curious eyes to him when you hear his pain, how even now he chooses to be out of your sight when taking those braces off.

And so you choose to stay silent, not ask a thing.

You covered your legs with one of Ivar’s cloaks, and you tried forgetting the stupidity of trying to spend as much time as possible before he departs with the man that imprisoned you.

When he settles in a seat at your side, you ask some quiet questions about what is to happen in Dublin, what happened before when you were on opposite sides of the battlefield; and surprisingly enough he answers, asking instead some light questions about what happened when you returned to Attica, before you were made Anassa, and you answer, with truths when you should paint tales of lies.

After a few moments of strangely comfortable silence, your thoughts return to Ivar’s words from before, about your heart being like theirs.

Words of praise to a dead man still trailing from your lips, but your mother is shaking her head, her green eyes on the distant battlefield, “Your Mistress may have touched your soul, but Freyja lays claim to your heart.”

You take a sip of the honeyed drink to dissolve the knot in your throat, and after a second you chuckle, drawing the attention of the King to you. Before he can open his mouth, you answer the unasked question,

“Sieghild used to say the same thing you did earlier, that my heart was touched by Freyja. She used to boast about how no Greek man would handle a daughter of hers as a wife.”

“I’ve wondered about that,” When you open your mouth to retort he should very much know why you are no easy woman to have as a wife, he gestures with his hand, dismissing the words you haven’t yet said and explaining, “About how you aren’t married already.”

“Why do you assume I’m not?”

“No man that could call you his wife would let himself lose you.”

There’s a compliment underneath that, but you choose only to shrug.

“Well, you are right, I never married.”

“And why is that?”

“Aren’t you the one saying Lady Freyja has fated this to happen? That she deemed me to be yours?”

The moment of hesitation when he considers his answer is enough for you to realize it is not only you he tried convincing when he bellowed you were a gift from the Gods themselves.

Granted, you do not know what to do with that knowledge, but it gives you a strange sense of peace to know he is not as deluded as he seemed before.

When he doesn’t answer, you decide to drop the conversation, and lower your gaze to the drink in your hands.

“You are…” The King’s voice startles you, and you lift your gaze to find his eyes already on you, tracing over your features and studying your expression. He continues, “You are calm about this, about becoming my wife.”

“Do you want me to kick and scream?” You ask, eyes narrowed.

“I want you to be true.” He barks, face tense and his shoulders tightening.

“I am,” You offer truthfully, “For years I have known I would marry a man I did not love. The fact that that man is you is just…a trick of the Gods, to toy with us all.”

“Who were you going to marry?”

“The Commander of the Greek forces, I told you of him.” You reply with ease, even if the reminder of what you did and what could have been make a pang of pain go all the way to your heart.

“You didn’t tell me he was to be your husband.”

The unjustified anger, as if implied you ever lied to him, makes your blood boil. Holding back a roll of your eyes, you snap,

“Well, I didn’t think you would make me a prisoner and force me to marry you when I talked to you about him, so it didn’t seem important at the time,” You shake your head to yourself, and stand up, wiping clean hands on your thighs, “Excuse me.”

“I did not say you could walk away.”

You stop on your tracks, your lips curving into a cold smile as you close your eyes, “Of course, how stupid of me to forget I’m a prisoner.”

“You are not a prisoner, you are to be my wife.”

You turn to him, crossing your arms over your chest. He remains sitting, but you still feel small.

Regardless, you push, “That just puts a crown on my head, but I still have chains set on me, don’t I?”

Instead of arguing further, the King leans forward in his seat, and with eyes searching yours, he demands to know,

“Why him?”

“What?”

“Why was it you accepted marrying him? Surely he wasn’t the only one interested in you.”

“He was a good man,” You start, but you are transported back to the battle outside Dublin, with Sieghild’s eyes on the distant battle, though you now know they were on the youngest son of Ragnar, as she whispers, not good enough, and your Gods and mine know that, little one. Swallowing past the bitter taste of hindsight, you continue, “He would have made a good husband, but ultimately…the reason was convenience.”

Ivar doesn’t ask what happened to him, why you still mourn him if it was a business deal, no. He asks, “What did he offer you?”

“I asked for his sword arm, his army. I wanted my Kingdom back in my hands and free from the Christians and their God,” You answer, sincerely. And with a small chuckle, remembering Sieghild’s words, you add, “No small bride-price.”

“What made him agree to it?”

The smile you offer is tremulous, hopelessness and regret all in one.

“Love.” You croak, your shame making your eyes fall from his.

His tongue runs over his lower lip as he considers you in silence, before finally seeming to agree with you judging by the subtle nod he gives before taking another gulp from his drink.

You watch silently as his eyes leave yours, traveling over the room and focusing on something past the windows. After an eternity, he turns to you,

“What is the moon to you, Priestess?”

“I’m sorry?”

He shrugs, “To us, she is a woman. A beautiful woman, alluring, perfect,” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, turning instead towards the opening in the room and looking over the stars, the moon that crosses the skies. “But she is not a woman you can trust. She fools men into doing her bidding, promises them her favor, her love. And when she is done with them, she betrays them, leaves them.”

You frown, and swallow down the shame, instead offering a feeble excuse, “We are bound from birth to rules, to ideas, to…prisons, simply because of who we are. Women learn to play with hearts because we are not allowed to play with swords.”

He offers a slight smile, but it is insincere and it hurts at a part of you that is still hopeful, that is still trusting and soft and true.

But it seems he understands, because if anyone could it would be him, for he sighs and looks back at the skies.

“What is the moon to you?” He insists quietly.

You return to your seat and face the same window, looking over the same sky, awed and devastated at the knowledge that this foreign darkness is the same sky that stretches over your home.

“She is a woman. She is a woman free and…foolish. It is her chariot that moves the moon at night, as she roams the skies. Yet so long ago she made the mistake of loving a mortal man, a man Fate doesn’t allow her to be with, for they do not belong to the same world. Free to roam the skies but bound by something as foolish as love, that is our moon.”

You remember your mother telling you this story, the mother of gentle caresses and relentless hope. The mother of sad eyes, the mother of charred flesh and lost wars.

You remember her telling you that between love and duty one must always win. Between legacy, between nature, and love, hope; one will always prevail, for it seems the Gods entertain themselves by making us choose.

The King remains silent, and you wonder for the first time what your mother chose. Because you remember her loud laughs, her bright eyes, her happiness; just as you remember her defeat, her pain, her hopelessness.

Maybe she chose love? In your mind you see her hands fixing your father’s armor as she sports a soft smile, holding onto him and laughing as he lifts you up over his head, kissing his lips as he is to depart for yet another campaign.

Or did she choose duty? Because you can also remember the quiet prayers she would teach you, the secretly woven tales late at night, the carved figures and hidden statuettes of the Gods she gave you to hide in the temple.

Did she try choosing both? Is that why she lost?

You shake your head, choosing to ignore those questions that do nothing but confuse you, and instead take a sip of the still warm infusion.

After a few moments, Ivar starts,

“Why didn’t you lie? Why didn’t you ask that of me?”

This draws your attention, and your back straightens, your heart quickens and a knot of uncertainty and dread grows in your chest.

“Would you agree?” You ask, startled, “Why?”

He considers you in silence for a few moments, enough that the knot in your chest grows tighter and tighter. But eventually he just adjusts himself in his seat, and drinks from his goblet of mead before insisting,

“I asked you a question first.”

His eyes are always searching, you would dread the day you look into his pale gaze and not see the annoying curiosity, the infuriating interest in the meaning behind your words and your actions.

And in that gaze, past the seeking nature of it, you have always seen sincerity. Even if encased in the cruel mask of the King of Kattegat, even if viciously euphoric with the power he wields, even if brutish and demanding and infuriating; you have not seen lies.

It may be your foolish heart trying to promise you it is not so dreadful here, that there can be life born from this death, that there’s a way the cold and hard earth of this realm can gift you the same flower fields your home once did. But you choose to believe the Gods wouldn’t be as cruel as to dangle such hope over hungry lips.

So you offer him the truth, the truth that aches and trembles as it leaves your lips, “The Priestess is dead.”

____

Hey :D I hope you liked it! I would love to know what you think so far!!

Also, I have no fucking clue how the moon was percieved in Norse mythology, what Ivar says is based loosely on what the show portrays, I don’t remember the episode but it’s a conversation between Ivar and the Bishop. The Greek myth on the moon tho, is based on some stories of Selene and how she fell in love with this dude that now by some accounts sleeps forever and by others has been turned into a cricket after Zeus acted predictably like a dick.

For two weeks I’ll be uploading two chapters on Saturdays, so that’s today with chapters 14 and 15, and the 21st with chapters 16 and 17. Then we go back to one chapter per saturday, hope you don’t mind!

As always, thank you all for giving my work a chance and for your support! Love you! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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