#i was a woman possessed when i made this im sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

martyrlamb · 1 year ago

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

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mooishbeam · 1 year ago

Text

『♡』 Cruel Prince

♡ featuring: villain!diluc ragnvindr x princess!reader

♡ summary: you are forced to marry the manipulative prince of a faraway kingdom. malicious compliance ensues. wc: 3.2k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, forced orgasm, hate sex, no foreplay, breeding, heavy choking, spanking, face slapping, spit, creampie, hair pulling, rough sex, diluc is mega possessive

notes: I promiseee im gonna come out with shorter fics im so sorry i couldn't help myself the fanart is so good :(( art by eriimyon on twitter <3

Brilliance freckled through the silk drapes of your extravagant windows and onto your resting face. A silhouette rubs your arm, followed by “You must wake now, Your Grace.” Her amiable tone made your heavy eyes ajar, looking up to see the sweet twinkle of the maid. You sit up and stretch, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Good morning!” you exclaim. She tucks the straggly hairs aside.

“Good afternoon, you mean?”

“Oh. Oops.” She shakes her head and hands you a lukewarm meal. This was a frequent occurrence, staying up late to twirl in your room until your feet ached. Fantasizing about the enchanting gambol you would share with your lover. When you eventually collapsed, you would dream of a man whisking you off to dance in a meadow. Being confined to the limited space of the baroque palace only intensified your curiosity. The kingdom your parent's shoulder is fruitful. Lined with riches and grateful civilians, all you know is comfortability. That comfortability bored you.

“The king would like to speak with you downstairs once you’ve settled” she states. You give an exasperated sigh and flop onto the featherbed. You weren’t looking forward to this meeting. “M’kay. Thanks. Love you.”

You make your way toward the dining room after breakfast. Almost every painting you skip by is of your older brother. It was no secret that you weren’t the favorite child. Your father wasn’t particularly fond of having a daughter. You slide down the railing of the grand staircase, entering the still air. Even the sound of your tiptoes carries volumes in complete quiet.

“Did... someone die?” you say, trying to break the ice. Your brother and mother sit across from each other with their heads down, afraid to interrupt the king who sat at the end of the dining table.

“No. Have a seat (Y/N).” he says, his hand signaling to the multitude of chairs remaining. You take the middle. Your father looks more stressed than usual, crescent shapes embedded between his eyebrows.

“There is something we have to discuss” he proclaims, interlocking his fingers. “Sure.”

“There’s been some disputes... between us. And the kingdom of Ragnvindr. Their king has been ill for many years now.”

“That’s too bad for them” you say, checking out of the conversation. You know of the Ragnvindrs, but you weren’t interested. “It is. However, their commerce is flourishing. The civilians have an excess of resources. They’re the central hub for wine. If we had access to that, we could provide greatly for the public.”

“Mm, okay.” Your mind darts to unique spots of detail decorating the ceiling.

“Do you remember talking to Prince Diluc?” It hadn’t jogged your memory until now, but you recall one time the flaming redhead came to the palace a few months ago. You saw him in passing; exchanging few words in light-hearted conversation before he met with your father. You noted the calm scarlet pupils and his attentiveness when you spoke. He seemed amicable until you uncovered the rumors. Whenever your mother invited her friends, the walls would erupt with gossip. You couldn’t help but listen through the door. “- he tried to kill his father!” Your mother declines but another woman chimed in. “People don’t get suddenly ill like that. He must’ve poisoned him! The poor man can’t talk anymore so Prince Diluc runs everything.”

“He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Anyone who disagrees with him is beaten. Even death!” you heard the dramatic drawl of another. “Oh please, not with his brother around.” You thought it was funny and went straight to the maid to parrot their pompousness. It wasn’t until his brother died in their home weeks later under “mysterious circumstances”, that you started to take the allegations seriously.

“He’s shaping out to be an exceptional young man.”

“I guess. Why are you telling me this?” you ask. Your father sucks in a breath.

“You are to marry Prince Diluc in a week’s time.” he declares. You freeze, beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“What? Whe- who decided this?”

“It was a collective decision from me, your mother, and the Ragnvindrs.”

“No! I didn’t get to decide. You took away my choice!”

“(Y/N), this will ensure peace for both of our kingdoms. We shall do what’s best for the-”

“I don’t know who he is. How could you do that to your own daughter, what kind of father marries their child off to a stranger?” Your voice gets increasingly louder. You were too irate to back down. Your father is seething.

“We will not argue about this-” he mumbles, the veins on his hands bulging from the tightening fists.

“Do you even know who he is? He killed his own brother, and his people fear his retaliation. He’ll backstab you at any chance if it means more power. He’s using you-”

“ENOUGH!” Your father slammed his leaden fists on the table, causing a harrowing bang to ring in your ears. All you can do is look at him, shaking, searching for any semblance of hope. He was unwavering.

“I hate you.” Your defeated voice falls to a murmur, and you stumble to your room in a haze.

The next 6 days were vague. You stayed in your room mostly, the maid accompanying you as you cry on and off for hours. Rage burned inside you, it dented furniture and ripped up cushions. You were exhausted and vengeful. An instructor comes by occasionally to teach you for your wedding day, but you find no joy in it.

You're tranquil in the luxuriant flower garden you once found solace in. A garden you’d never see again after tonight. Suddenly, you hear the gate creak open. Strawberry strands peek behind the sunflowers. It was Diluc. The silence was painful. “Hello.”

“Hello. I figured it would be considerate to come see you briefly” he returns, grabbing your hand. You catch yourself staring.

“We are to be married soon.”

“...Right.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about this arrangement.”

“I’m sure you have many requests for your hand in marriage. Why me?”

“I don’t have a say in it. You don’t either.” That can’t be right, their king is senile you thought.

“That’s not true. I know what you’re really like.” His eyes narrow into yours. “You could turn this entire kingdom to ash if you willed it.”

“You know naught of me.”

“You killed your brother and now you’re after my father, aren’t you?” He’s relaxed despite the accusations.

“What would you do? As long as we are wedded, you will obey.” You snatch your hand from him.

“I will do no such thing” you utter, holding your head high. He laughs and lifts your chin with a finger, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“Such a naïve princess, so far beneath me. You will be mine. Act accordingly.” You want to slap that smug look off his face.

“I’ll be going now. Don’t stay up too late.”

Everything about your wedding is opulent. Visitors sport grandiose garments and intricate jewelry, leaving priceless gifts in your celebration. The travel to the kingdom of Ragnvindr was silent, minus the glares you shot to your parents. You disappear the minute you step down the aisle, taking notice of the guests. Faceless people with appropriated smiles and forced words of kindness; a scornful masquerade.

Your vows are pitiful, and you wear an ingenuine smile for every “aww” in attendance. “I do” is said, and your fate is sealed through a chaste kiss.

The dance arrived sooner than you thought. The floor was large and elegant, a thousand eyes watching you at the start of the staircase. You almost get stage fright. Diluc waits at the bottom, his gloved hand longing to take yours. You saunter to him. You expected him to be stiff and unprepared, but as you held his hand something changed. He scoops you by the waist with the other and twirls you around, igniting the music. His steps are effortless, bringing you near him and releasing you for another spin. The movements lift you into a different scene, of green pastures and bright blue sky. Only you and Diluc. The tune curled in your ears and whispered radiance. Your stride is loose, guided by the inducing notes and swinging pendant on your neck. Your arms glide past his chest and he steadies you gently in an intimate embrace. Dilucs lips barely hover over your ear.

“You look stunning.”

“I know. You look grotesque.” You feel a puff of wind against your ear. Glancing at him, you haven’t paid much attention to his appearance until now. His physique seemed to be chiseled from the finest marble, intentional with each contour. He smelled of musk and bitter vanilla, the warm glow of glittering chandeliers highlighting his rugged features.

“You like what you see, hmm?” You didn’t reply.

“Do you like to dance?”

“It’s not your business.”

“Well, if I'm right, you can dance here every day if you want. But you must behave.” His honeyed words made you hot, and you looked away. “No. You are my enemy.”

“Very well, then.” He continued to entrap you, sewing seeds in your brain through the sway of your bodies. You were tangled in a field of thorns, pricked by his fleeting romantic gestures. It confused and enticed you. But the dance came to its end, and reality set in. He leaned down to kiss your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The music resumes its normal pace, motioning people to return to the dance floor.

The idea of Diluc displaying you like property tests your pettiness; you need his unruffled persona to snap. He watches you dance into the arms of another man, and you’re sure to make eye contact with him. You flash a mischievous smile as you spin through the exuberant crowd, leaving him behind. You thought you lost him. Just then, shade abruptly comes down on you and the nameless man. He turns first, cowering and slinking into the masses. You don’t face the shadow until your face is grabbed by leather and twisted sharply to encounter the reddening face of Diluc.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“If I’m beneath you, this shouldn’t bother you, right?” you say, smiling at your ability to break him.

He grits his teeth. “You are forbidden from interacting with any man.”

“By whom? Your words mean nothing.” He gets closer to you; a death stare bore into your pleased expression. “If you’re angry, do something.”

You’ve never been hauled anywhere this fast. He pulled you through the bustling room and up the stairs with absurd force, not turning to you once. You were nearly hovering off the ground from his strength. He opened the sculpted doors leading to his bedroom and pushed you inside. Before you can see him, he pins you between himself and the ornate vanity. His nails stab into the wood the more he waits for your explanation.

“What happened to your composure?” you taunt.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Not yours.” His lips share space with yours, noses scarcely touching.

“Sorely mistaken. You belong to me.”

“Prove it.”

Carnal lust washed over you. Your lips instantly collide, cracking dams of yearning through sloppy kisses and smacking teeth. His tongue is demanding and seeks entry, but you deny him. He grabs your neck tightly.

“Open.”

“Say please.” Diluc pries your lips open with his fingers, playing with the wet mass while he nips your ear. The foreign feeling in your mouth makes your mind numb.

“Nasty little minx.” he husks, forcing your tongue to stick out before it contacts his. His kisses are deep and primal, holding you close to the point of merging. He’s squeezing your neck occasionally and teasing the dizzying airflow. The fire cascading down his back envelopes you in a slow bleed, tickling your chest and face. His scent surrounds you, exhilarates you. You pierce his bottom lip with your teeth, looking to regain some sense of control and he groans from the feeling. He promptly hoists you off the ground with your back facing the vanity and his hands on your ass. His greed doesn’t stop, plunging and contorting the organ in unreachable places. You taste sprinkles of metallic flavor. The sensation has your knees weak. You push him away, both breathing heavily with a trail of spit between you.

“This is nothing like the ceremony kiss.”

“Don’t you want my full honesty?” he rasped. He dips down to your upper thigh, past the slit in your dress. His pointed fangs catch onto your garter, and he slips it off, groping the plush flesh as he lifts your leg up. Your fingers intertwine with his scalp and tug it, earning a harsh bite on your inner thigh. Rough kisses drag up your body until he makes it back to your lips. You tear his button-down open, navigating the solid muscle under the fabric. Light purple marks are left in your wake that decorate his collarbone. Diluc splits your dress down the back and shreds it off you. You're soaked, relishing in the volatile nature beyond the mask.

He picks you up and hurls you on the bed, following you on top. You wrestle for dominance, entwined in passion. Somehow, Diluc ends up underneath you, your legs on both sides of him. You take this opportunity to pin his wrists and grind on his throbbing length. He lets you have it knowing that he’s stronger than you are. He kicks off his slacks and you pull down his stained boxers. A sudden fear hits you once they’re removed; his slightly curved cock was impossibly long and girthy, precome trickling down the angry tip. You weren’t sure it would fit.

“You’re just going to gawk at it?” he says, restless from the ache. Nervousness blends in your gut. You wanted him badly, but you had to make him suffer for at least some time. Hovering over it, you slather his tip in your juices and admire the way he bites his lip. You lower your folds onto him, submerging the cockhead and leave it there, stirring your hips with it inside only to pull it out. Diluc is disheveled, star fished, and spread wildly across the sheets as he grunts from each plunge. He had to feel you, to claim you.

“You want it?”

“I don’t beg” he says flatly. You roll your eyes, immersing his shaft halfway. He releases a long shaky groan and attempts to buck his hips, but you rise before he can go further. His cock was covered in syrupy fluids from the moments of friction, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

“You won’t get anything with that repulsive attitude” you tease, and start moving at a leisurely pace, carefully stretching yourself out.

“Repulsive, yet using me for your desires?”

“That’s all you’re good for.” You’re shuddering from the feeling of your walls molding to the bruising size.

“Then I’ll be sure to satisfy you.” His calloused fingers break out of your sparing clutch and grab your hips, jerking you down to the hilt with a soggy plap. The wind is knocked out of you, shockwaves through your spine as you heaved over trembling. It hurts, but you can’t help but feel aroused by the desperate look he gave you. “Mm good, you’re sucking me so tight.”

“Shit- slow down-” you plead. He wraps his arms around your hips, arching your back and leaning you forward. “Quiet.” Diluc bends his knees and begins to bully his way into your cunt. His thrusts are unforgiving, if he wasn’t holding you in place, you’d be airborne. He slips out completely and rams into you so deep it feels like he's burrowing into your stomach; yet you grip him like a vice, hungry for more. You were melting and all you heard was his quick beating heart and the wet squelching clash of your bodies. Diluc shifts to the vanity mirror opposite the bed, entranced by the violent rippling of your ass and sticky strings your puffy vulva left. You’re teeming on an orgasm, blurring the lines of pleasure and pain.

“I’m gonna come- ah!” His hands move to your ass, striking each side hard enough to welt numerous times. He digs his nails into the searing flesh, savoring it. “Louder, I want everyone to know who owns you” he says and pushes his fingers in your mouth to pull your jaw slack. You deliver, allowing your erotic wails to echo through the halls. “Come for me princess.” His command sends you over the edge and you’re dissolved into pleasure, zeroing in on his guttural moans, the low fuck’s stuttering out of him. Your nails score his chest. He spreads your backside, enjoying the view of your convulsing heat drenching his balls.

Diluc flips you over on your back before you’re done gathering yourself. He tosses the damp shirt on the floor and reveals the crisp v-line deliciously carved under his sculpted abs. He manhandles you into a pretzel, securing your sore thighs. He puts his hands on yours and pushes them back further. “Fucking filthy, you’re such a mess” he says, smearing his leaking shaft up and down your hypersensitive clit. He quickly engulfs himself in your gooey warmth again and sighs. “You’re beautiful like this.” He’s pounding hard, foreheads touching and breath mixing. You’re both sweating, mascara running down your cheeks and needy moans leaving either of you from addictive ecstasy. His tip licks your sweet spot consistently and your eyes loll back. “That’s it, take my cock like a good wife.” One hand reaches for your throat while the other flicks your clit rapidly. The firm grip dots your vision black, and you pulse from sick delight. He stops occasionally to slap you across your face. It stings, you hate him, but the spasming veins caressing your walls make you question that belief. “Oh my god - look at you” he moans, staring at the shiny white ring forming at the base of his thrusts. Your hands find passage in his thick tresses and guide his attention to you. The coil threatened to snap at any minute. “Gonna carry my baby, then you can never leave.”

Your blood runs cold. “Huh? Wait-” You try to budge but he’s stronger than you, sweeping the nub faster with ravenous strokes. Electricity consumes your rational thoughts with a thumping finish, cloudy and fluttering. “Ngh- you’ll look so pretty with a belly” Diluc groans and chases his high. His eyes are glossed over, he throws his head back and finally falls apart, creamy ropes coating your insides with his balls flush against you. He pants as if he’s moved mountains and twitches from slow strokes, trying to get his come as deep in you as possible. His thumb presses upon your lips and you instinctively open your mouth. Spit settles on your tongue and he watches you swallow. You taste his kiss right after. When he pulls out, globs of semen dribble out your slit, but he fingers it back inside.

“Keep it in” he says darkly. He glances at the pendant you’re still wearing—an invaluable heirloom from your parents—and snatches the chain off your neck. In one devastating hurl, he shatters it on the floor. “I’ll make sure you only have me.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc x you #diluc smut

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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the dragon and the maiden fair — gojo satoru.

Kneeling before you, Satoru worshiped at the altar of your body with reverence, his mouth and tongue offering devotion. Your moans, sweet music to his ears, spurred him on. You gripped the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The sensation, whether painful or not, thrilled him to the core. He liked the pleasure of pain. He liked it rough, as you well know.

Genre: Alternate Universe — ASOIAF

Warning/s: Alternate Universe, R-18, Smut, Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Romance, Servant!Reader, Targaryen Prince! Satoru, Pet Names, Fluff, Praise, Breeding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie Possessiveness, Mentions of Historical Notes, Mentions of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of Marriage;

Words: 5k words.

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 800;

note: im sorry i haven't posted this yet. it took a while because tumblr isn't working well. can anyone help me cause tumblr isn't letting me see images and gifs right now??? this is really a pain. but if you guys have tips, let me know! anyway, i love you all!!! <3

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SUCH A THING WAS UNEXPECTED TO PRINCE SATORU TARGARYEN. If one would have asked him what he wanted all these years ago — he would have said to do his duty to the realm. To ride his dragon off to battle, to enjoy the bounty of his position until he died. Yet, as he took in the moment between you and him, basking in the beam of moonlight — he found himself thinking that this was more than enough. Nothing else mattered in the world. Just the two of you making for a merry bunch, over spiced wine under the moonlight..

His bright blue gaze remarked each movement of your face as laughter echoed at each and every joke, every quip. There was true joy in the beams of your eyes. Satoru Targaryen must admit that he thinks no one has ever truly looked at him with such warmth. No one had ever been this joyful being by his side. No one but you.

You were a common lady, one he shouldn’t even be associating with as a prince. But he found himself enthralled with you. It was as if the flame in him burns if you were there to cause the fury that keeps him alive. He thinks that he found it in the way your hands moved, rubbing itself together with each laughing fit. It was in the way a small bridge forming in your lips folding into a pout roused him with great joy. It was the way your tender hands held him as though he was the most fragile thing in the world.

Every sight of you since he had met you was enough to rush his mood away from the bleak nature of his world spinning onto the void of oblivion. All had been forgotten. His pains of being the most powerful, lonely man in the world. His anger at his father’s debauchery. His grief at the curse of his power, of his position. Since then, in his world, there is only your warmth melting his cold heart little by little.

Satoru was honest when he said that he had known many women and men. At times, he still meets them and knows he has the power to compel them to his bed. To warm his cold bed with the flames that equate his own. Yet none could match your vivacity, your grace or your intelligence. None of them were you. None of them were his maiden fair. None had pierced his heart deeper than the words you gave him each morrow, in his arms, with your warmest tone.

Satoru thinks that you were made for him.

You were given shape to be the one for him.

To love him, to warm him, to bring him to life.

Nothing in the world can make him leave you.

Many had spoken of their concern to him, consorting with a common lady. It was unbecoming, unprecedented for a prince of Dragonstone to be so enthralled with a woman of unequal status. But Satoru thinks he dares not listen. What did these old men know about you? What did these fools know about love? What did they know about the truth of human life? None. No one did. Only he did. Because he had you. You were the truth of human life. You were his life.

It was easy to feel alive when you were the most gentle of all the flowers in this garden. He remembers when he first met you. Eyes gleaming with morning dew, the way your fingers touched the small blossom of white roses springing across the most beautiful gardens. Your beauty was the wonder of humankind. He felt like he was struck by love at that moment.

Your long glistening hair blossomed like a parting flower, beckoning a dance between the wind and your gentle touch. His eyes widened, lips flew apart. The heart thumped against his chest loudly, beat after beat, which made him latch onto his chest. It hurts to see you walk away. From that moment on, he was resolute to find you. He was resolute to have the woman he loved in his arms.

Moon after moon was a disappointment, to be sure. He had found himself unable to find you, even with his most trusted servants looking for you. And in that time, life of the royal court had become placid, cold with the loss of warmth, of reasons. Each day, the throne felt more like his prison than his birthright. He hated how it was. How lonely it was without you.

When he had found you again, he was astounded. You were now working within the palace, as his sister’s maid. It was wonderful for him. Each day, he had invited his sister to join him to break their fast together. And each morning, he could not stop his eyes from wandering towards you. He was sure that all had noticed how enamored he was with you. And he was not shy to deny his fondness, his affections.

You have been mortified that the prince of Dragonstone was willing to put himself in your way and bend to you — a common born lady, with nothing but the clothes on your back. You were a baseborn young maiden. You don't even know who your mother and father were. You felt unworthy of his affections. He was a prince. And you were nothing, you should be nothing. But that did not deter him. And slowly but surely, his charm, his tenderness, his truthfulness, his love — it all won you over.

“You have given me too much wine.” You say to him.

He grins at you. “You are fond of it, are you not? To taste it from my mouth.”

“I am.” You say as your reddened cheeks grew redder yet. “It is late now, isn’t it, my prince?”

He nodded back to you, his thumb wiping the side of your cheek. There was a stain of the wine. “Yes, it is past midnight now.”

“Oh my!” You hiccuped in between. “I feel as though I am drunk now.”

“Yes, my maiden fair. You are drunk with a merry drink.” He cooes at you, bright cerulean eyes beaming at you. “You were so beautiful with each drink, my maiden fair.”

You laugh once more. “Well, I do not mind, my prince. It is merrier with you. Everything is.”

“I should say the same.” He smiles fondly, so warmly towards you.

Both had taken a step out of his chambers in days, enjoying each other’s company in the most intimate sensuality. His duties keep him away from you more often than he would have hoped. And with his taking of you under the nose of all these bothersome fools, he thought to keep you away from court and keep you in Dragonstone. At times, he knows you get lonely with him being summoned to do his duties at court. But he was thankful that you bear with him. You love him and it was enough. It was more than enough.

His head rested upon your bare belly, as he watched his dragon fly among the smallest birds that fly within the keep most days. He ate at your womanhood like a starved man, over and over again. He enjoyed how you pulled at his silver hair over and over again, crying and weeping. When you were exhausted from pleasure, he would find himself cleaning you and caring for you. He asks the servants to send up some food for the two of you and he feeds you. He does not want you to move one single muscle, one single hand, or finger. He wanted to pamper you, pleasure you. Love you every single day.

One of these days, he had heard that he had been once more summoned by his father at court. But he did not care.. Not when in his arms glowed a most beautiful marvel, laced in endless Tyroshi silk, your body as soft as a feather’s touch. He was happy to stay here in your arms. You did not mind if he worked on his scrolls in bed. He was enthralled watching you read missives for him too. It was too much work, to leave you again. That he was not much willing to do.

“I do not think the court likes me very much.” You whispered, resting your head against his warm body. “Nor your father the king.”

He laughs, his hands pushing away your long hair from your cheek. “My maiden fair, I do not care what anyone else thinks.”

“But it is a stain on your reputation, Satoru—”

“As if none of these bastards have mistresses of their own common lady as their second wives. Mayhaps even whores.” He scoffs, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Loyalty is not their strong suit, my love. But it is mine. I will not forsake you. You are and never will be my stain. You are my love. Only mine.”

You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, a soothing balm against the doubts that cling to your heart. Satoru's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing patterns along your jawline, as if to erase the worries etched upon your face.

"I fear they will try to tear us apart, my prince." you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the court's judgment lingers in the air, a heavy presence that threatens to suffocate the fragile happiness you've found in his arms.

Satoru's eyes meet yours, a fierce determination burning within their depths. "Let them try, my maiden fair." he replies, his voice a low rumble that resonates with unwavering confidence. "I have faced countless adversaries, and none have succeeded in separating me from what I hold dear. And you, you are the one I hold most dear.”

You marvel at his unwavering resolve, the strength that radiates from him like a beacon in the darkness. In his presence, the world feels a little less daunting, and your fears begin to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of hope. He was all you had, your beautiful, powerful prince. And he wanted you. For bitter or for worse, for good or for greater. He will want you, he will love you.

"Do you truly believe we can overcome this?" you ask, seeking reassurance in his steady gaze.

He cups your face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm. "I believe in us, my love." he declares, his words a promise woven into the fabric of your shared future. "No matter the trials we face, I will fight for you, for us. Together, we are unbreakable."

Your heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and love, a potent blend that binds you to him in ways words can scarcely capture. In this moment, beneath the weight of a disapproving court and a king who remains an enigma, you find solace in the unwavering devotion of the man who holds your heart.

“Will you fight for me too, hm?” His cerulean eyes search your own, expectantly. “Will you fight for your prince?”

"I will fight for you, my prince. My Satoru." you vow, your voice steady and resolute. "For us."

With a soft smile, Satoru leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that speaks of promises and dreams yet to be realized. All that was left was passion, bountiful love as you returned the kiss while shutting your eyes and letting yourself be completely removed from reality.

They were turned over as he leaned over you without severing their kiss. His right hand was entangled in your fine long hair, while the other nuzzled your face as if he wanted to close his eyes and recall your beauty. Although he was certain that nothing about you would be easily forgotten.

You ended the kiss, taking in air.

His bright blue never leaves you.

He was hungry for more of you.

You breathed deeply and gazed at him with your wanton eyes. "I want you to take me. Make me your wife, even just tonight, my prince.”

You hitched a breath as he delicately caressed the firm line of your jaw with his thumb. You feel like you were on fire, whenever you were with him. "My maiden fair. I’ve wanted to make you my wife all this time. You do not need pretense.”

“I cannot—”

He moves forward, placing kisses on your neck. You moan. “I will not let you go because some fool says no. I am Satoru, prince of Dragonstone. The first of the name. The man who will be king. I have a dragon who’s seen many battles. Anyone who dares say no to me, say no to our marriage. They will face my love. Do not care for their worries. Love me instead. Make love to your husband, your prince. Your king.”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of desire and disbelief flooding your senses. Satoru’s confidence is intoxicating, a force that draws you closer to him, erasing the barriers that have kept you apart.

“Tonight, let there be no doubts, my maiden fair.” he murmurs against your skin, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck. His hands cradle your face with a tenderness that contrasts the fervor of his words.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his touch, the world around you fading into insignificance. In this moment, there is only Satoru, his presence enveloping you like a cloak of protection and love.

“But what of the court? The king?” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cling to the last vestiges of reason.

Satoru pulls back slightly, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Let them watch and whisper,” he declares, his voice firm and unyielding. “I will not be swayed by their disapproval. My heart belongs to you, and nothing will change that.”

His words ignite a spark within you, a courage that had lain dormant now awakening with fervor. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as you press your lips to his, pouring all your love and longing into the kiss.

Satoru responds with equal fervor, his hands roaming your body, claiming you as his own. The world outside ceases to exist, and in this private sanctuary, you find solace in the certainty of his love.

“I love you,” you whisper between kisses, the words a sacred vow.

He smiles against your lips, a warmth radiating from him that banishes all doubts. “And I you. my maiden fair, my little wife.” he replies, his voice a soft caress. “Tonight and forevermore, you are mine.”

Satoru leaned forward with intent, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands traced every contour of your body, moving with purpose until they reached your thighs. You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his silver hair, playing with the strands as he deepened the kiss.

After a while, he shifted his attention, trailing kisses down your neck and leaving marks that drew soft moans from your lips. His focus moved lower, drawn to the beauty of your form even in the dim candlelight. Your full, enticing curves were a sight that made his heart race.

Taking his time, Satoru kissed his way down your thighs and legs, committing each inch to memory. He felt as if he had ascended to the heavens, feasting on the divine bounty laid before him. He takes and he takes — greedily as he can. Each sound from you egged him on. Faster and then harsher, then deeper.

The reality of your shared intimacy was something he never dared to dream of, when he first met you. But now none will stop him. Now he has had a taste of you, now that he has had plenty, he wants more of you. He wanted more and more. He was greedy when it came to you. His maiden fair.

He pulled back momentarily, observing your flushed face and the gentle pants escaping your lips. With renewed passion, he captured your mouth once more, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. As he broke the kiss, his gaze roamed your body, filled with longing and desire. He carefully lifted the hem of your nightgown, revealing the sacred beauty beneath. The beauty that can only truly belong to him.

Lost in the moment, you cried out in pleasure, surrendering to the wave of bliss that overtook you. Satoru reveled in your cries, cherishing every moment as he savored the gift of your shared passion, holding nothing back in this sacred exchange. If there was such a thing as the Maiden, then you were her best creature. You were her best daughter. The daughter he wants to claim, to breed, to make his own.

Satoru's kisses were fervent, igniting a fire that spread through your veins. His calloused, warm hands roamed your body with a confidence born from knowing every sensitive spot, every curve that made you sigh and arch toward him. He let a small laugh release from his mouth. You were getting too eager for your own good.

As he worshiped your skin with his lips, you felt the heat of his breath against your thighs, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your lover was generous, he always was. He cared more for your pleasure than his own, that was truly certain to you. But he has too much energy. He was relentless in making you find your pleasure as much as he had time and energy to spend. You really don’t want to complain. Your prince was too much of a good lover, he loved you.

Your hands tugged at his silver hair, urging him closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he drew closer to your core. With a reverent touch, he parted your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you, laid bare before him. His mouth descended, and you cried out, your back arching in response to the exquisite sensation of his tongue tracing intimate paths along your skin.

Your Satoru was relentless, his lips and tongue moving in a dance of worship that left you breathless, lost in a haze of pleasure. Every flick and caress was an echo of his devotion. Each layer broken, each layer conquered connected you deeper to him. He wanted more of you, wanted to discover depths of your cunt that he could make his.

Your small hands clutched at him desperately, nails grazing his scalp as he drove you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans and gasps, eliciting that inflamed passion that burned between you. You could feel him laugh once more. He was pleased, you think. He discovered another depth of you.

“Please, my love, my prince.” you murmured, a plea that was both a prayer and a command, and Satoru answered with renewed fervor, his touch becoming more insistent, more urgent. He wanted to claim you, to make you his in every sense of the word. “My Satoru!”

“Come, my maiden fair. Feel me whole, my wife. Feel my tongue in you, hm?”

With a final cry, you surrendered to the wave of ecstasy that swept over you, your body shuddering in release as Satoru held you close. His touch was both reassuring and possessive, his powerful presence enveloping you completely. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve alight with the intensity of your climax.

Satoru’s lips were a gentle contrast to his earlier dominance, brushing against your skin as he whispered sweet promises in a voice that was both soothing and commanding. His words were a balm, a reminder of the connection that had brought you to this moment, and the promise of more to come.

His warm tongue traced along your skin, its path leaving a trail of sensation that enraptured you whole. The way he moved, the way his tongue explored every inch of you, was a testament to his unwavering attention and desire. It was as if he was savoring every moment, every taste, committing it to memory.

When he finally parted from you, his eyes met yours with a glint of satisfaction and pride. You could see the evidence of your shared pleasure, the way his chin was slick with your release, glistening in the dim light. The sight was both intimate and overwhelming, a reminder of the depth of your connection and the intensity of what you had just shared.

His expression was one of triumph, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of you, still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. “Messy, aren’t we?” he teased, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “But oh, so satisfying, isn’t it?”

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your ecstasy, Satoru shifted slightly, his movements deliberate and assured. His bright cerulean eyes, still locked on yours, held a promise of more to come, a flicker of desire reigniting as he positioned himself above you once again.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. The kiss was both possessive and tender, full of lust and desire for you. Only you. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve with a reverent touch, as if memorizing every inch of you all over again.

With a teasing smirk, Satoru broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ready for more, maiden fair?” His voice was a deep, velvety growl, filled with anticipation and longing.

Before you could respond, he positioned himself at your entrance, you could feel it. You could feel his thick member pressing against you with an insistent pressure. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, your body responding instinctively to the promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, your Satoru began to push inside you, his cock stretching you once more with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and fullness. The sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. You gasp aloud, as he stills. He was always too big. You feel that each time he claims you, it was a reminder of the power he held over you. A power you will always let him have.

He moved with a steady rhythm, his hips rolling with a controlled grace that left you breathless. Each thrust was a deliberate, measured stroke, filling you completely and driving you further into a haze of pleasure. The heat between you built once more, the friction of his movements reigniting the fire that had momentarily subsided. Your dragon burns you alive with his pleasure and you love it. You adore it.

Satoru’s gaze never left yours, his eyes dark and intense as he watched you with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. The way your body responded to him, the way you opened up to receive him. With every thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body arching and writhing beneath him in a dance of passion and surrender. The pleasure was all-consuming, each wave crashing over you with a force that left you gasping and yearning for more.

As your prince continued to move inside you, his pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a renewed urgency. The room was filled with the sound of your burning passion, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Over and over. You could feel his weight press even more against your body as he dived further inside your cunny.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge once more, the heat and pressure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you completely. Satoru seemed to sense this, his thrusts becoming more urgent and more demanding as he drove you both toward the end. The rhythm of his movements was relentless, each stroke pushing you closer to that precipice of bliss.

Your fingers tightened around him instinctively, holding on as if he were the only anchor in a sea of overwhelming sensation. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through you with every thrust. Satoru’s body was a solid, reassuring presence above you, his muscles flexing with each powerful movement.

The intensity of his speed left you gasping, the relentless pace driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Your body responded eagerly, hips rising to meet each of his forceful thrusts as you clung to him desperately. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of moans and gasps that underscored the intensity of the moment.

Satoru’s focus was absolute, his blue haze locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a determination in his eyes, a promise that he would take you both to the heights of pleasure and beyond. Each movement was precise and calculated, his control and power evident in every thrust.

As you approached the peak, the flames of pleasure became all-consuming, it burned you. It drowned you in its tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. The heat and pressure reached a fever pitch, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of ecstasy.

With a final, powerful thrust, Satoru drove you both over the edge, the release crashing over you like a wave. Your body shuddered in his arms, the sensation so intense that it left you breathless and trembling. His own climax followed swiftly, his body tense and shaking as he joined you in the blissful release.

In the aftermath, you lay entwined, the world around you fading into insignificance. The pleasure had left you both utterly satisfied, your bodies still humming with the remnants of ecstasy. As your breaths slowly returned to normal, you found comfort in the warmth of his embrace. Satoru’s fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch a soothing balm in the wake of the storm. His presence was a comforting weight, your everything.

When he was finally relieved, your Satoru rose to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with a tender intensity that left you breathless. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, and you tasted the echoes of your own pleasure on his lips. With every touch, every whispered word, he made it clear that you were his world, his everything.

“Will you wed me? On the morrow?”

Satoru’s question hung in the air, a whisper filled with promise and longing. His eyes searched yours, looking for the answer he already knew but needed to hear. The sincerity in his gaze, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, made your heart swell with emotion.

“On the morrow?” you repeated, your voice a mixture of surprise and joy. It was a bold proposition, defying the expectations of the court and the king himself. Of the realm and tradition itself. Yet in Satoru’s arms, those concerns seemed distant, inconsequential.

“Yes, my love.” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I want the world to know that you are mine, not just in heart but in name. I want them to see you as my wife. Let them see the strength of our bond, the truth of our love.”

The thought of becoming his wife, of sharing a future together free from the shadows of secrecy, sent a thrill through you. You could imagine the look on the faces of those who doubted your place beside him, the satisfaction of proving them wrong with every step you took as his bride. You would become a princess, you would become his queen.

Your mouth opened for a moment, as though ready to say something. But you close it once again. You turned to him, looking into his blue eyes. They were ever so certain, already decided. Ever so clear. His love, it was only for you. His maiden fair. He was only waiting for you. A moment of silence passes you both by.

“I will, my love.” you answered, your voice filled with unwavering certainty. “I will wed you, Satoru, my love, my prince.”

His smile was radiant, a reflection of the joy that filled him. Your chest swells at the happiness that you could see in his face. You don’t think you have ever seen him this happy. He pulled you into another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a promise sealed with the warmth of his lips, a vow that transcended words.

“We will stand together, my love.” Satoru murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face with infinite care. “Through whatever flames may come, we will face them as one. I swear to you. I will choose only you.”

The certainty in his words, the unyielding strength of his conviction, wrapped around you like a protective embrace. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or fear—only the promise of a future where love triumphed over all.

As you lay entwined in each other’s arms, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that the morrow would bring a new beginning. The path ahead might be fraught with challenges, but with Satoru by your side, you were ready to face them all together. The dragon and the maiden fair.

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aviiarie · 19 days ago

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˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.

synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”

You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.

“Why is it priced so low, then?”

“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.

The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.

“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”

Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”

“Reputation?” You frowned.

“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”

-----

It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.

You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.

It was perfect, almost too perfect.

“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.

When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.

“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”

“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.

“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”

Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.

When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.

Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.

Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.

Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.

You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

-----

The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.

You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.

Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.

The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.

Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.

Crack.

The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.

“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.

In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.

-----

After that, the strangeness kept adding up.

Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.

Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.

One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.

The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.

That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.

It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.

The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.

The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.

“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.

You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”

There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”

You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”

The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”

Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.

“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”

“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”

“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”

“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”

The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.

“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.

“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”

The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.

Was it... loneliness?

It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.

“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

#☆ — ghost stories.#★ — avie's writing.#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #platonic lyney x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader

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exhaslo · 10 months ago

Note

OMG HI IM BACK I HOPE UR HYDRATED

FAST AND FURIOUS MIGUEL AND READER WHERE THEY’RE RIDE OR DIE, STREET RACING WHERE MIGGY WINS AND GETS HIS PRIZE IN THE BACKSEAT OF HIS OLD 2000s MODELED SUZUKI ?????

NEVER WATCHED A SINGLE FAST AND FURIOUS

BUT I'M NEVER ONE TO BACK DOWN ON A GOOD OL' BACKSEAT RIDE OR DIE CAR SEX HAHAHA

Sorry this was so late to be posted. I'm still backed up with requests from last month!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, car sex, fingering

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was never a dull moment in the city of Nueva York. Every street had something to offer, no matter the time of day. From the sunrise to even past the sunset. There was a reason why this city was given the name, 'The city that never sleeps'.

Amongst its citizens was you. A lovely night owl, just gearing up to be entertained by your fantastic boyfriend. Honestly, this was something that you had never thought of as entertaining. Car racing in the middle of the city was what kept you up most nights...

But Miguel showed you otherwise.

That man was going to drive you insane. When you first met him, you swore that all he cared about was his car. He treated it more like a woman than you sometimes, but...you opened up to his point of view. You saw how much Miguel cared about both you and his night life activities.

That, and he was goddamn hot when working on his 'baby'. Miguel was a mechanic during the day and one of the best street racers at night. You on the other hand just worked a normal office job; however, you easily became one of the most popular flag girls for the race.

"Amor (love), are you trying to temp me before the race?" Miguel said with a low hum as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You felt your cheeks fluster as Miguel pressed you against the wall. His kisses against the back of your neck were sweet and hungry. With a soft press of his hips, you felt Miguel's erection right into your booty shorts.

"Miguel, this is what the other flag girls told me to wear," You said with a soft whine, turning around in his grip, "They mentioned something about a special prize I'll be offering."

"Hn," Miguel grunted lowly as he glanced at the time, "Whatever prize it maybe, this body is only meant for me to see."

"Haha, they're just booty shorts. I haven't worn something like this in such a long time."

"And the tight tank top?" Miguel rested his head by your breasts, inhaling deeply, "Ay dios mio (oh my god), I better win this race and fast so I can tend to you."

You chuckled at Miguel's possessiveness. Pecking his lips, you stroked his cheeks, rubbing against the small gruff he had growing. Miguel pouted and quickly went to clean and shave. Sometimes he forgot about himself when he worked.

Once ready, you scooted yourself into Miguel's passenger seat. Miguel leaned over to land a deep kiss against your lips before driving off to the event sight.

You remembered the first time he let you in his, 'baby'. You were confused as to why he took so much care of an old 2000s Suzuki. Miguel gave you quite a story when he explained everything in detail. How even the smallest mod could change the way he drives.

There were a lot of do's and don'ts in his car too. You followed them since you knew how much Miguel cared about his car. Glancing at his backseat, you wondered what Miguel was working on there. He had been making some changes and improvements that always left you curious.

"Alright, make sure you wave that flag extra high for me when I win," Miguel said with a low chuckle as you got out of his car.

"Hopefully the prize is just as good."

"I could always use some more parts," Miguel hummed and winked towards you before driving off to the others.

You smiled brightly as you hurried to the other girls. This was going to be a first for you. Taking part in Miguel's hobby made you happy. The other girls giggled towards you as led you to the starting line. Everyone cheered once you all arrived.

"Shake that ass!!" Some of the men in the crowd cheered.

You felt your face burn up and looked around for Miguel. Once you found him, you giggled towards the glare he gave to the crowd. This was probably going to be the last time you became a flag girl. Miguel was far too possessive of you to have men drool.

"Alriiiiight, who's ready for tonight's race?!" The announcer yelled out, followed by a wave of cheers, "We got a special prize today! Been a while since we've gotten a new flag girl, so you all know what this means!"

"Trophy! Trophy! Trophy!"

"Thaaaaat's right! (Y/N) will be the delicious trophy for today's prize! Here that racers! You get a special night with our lovely (Y/N)!"

You felt your face pale as you tried to ask the other girls what the announcer meant. They all just smiled and reassured you that it was fun and no harm done. You knew better. Staring at Miguel, you frowned as you saw the scorn on his face.

Miguel hurriedly got in his car and revved up the engine. You trusted Miguel, so you had faith that he was going to win, but if he didn't...Miguel might end up fighting someone.

-------

Miguel was beyond furious. He knew that some of these races got a little out of hand, but to use you as a prize? Cussing lowly as he gripped the wheel, Miguel slammed the gas petal once the flag was raised. He refused to let anyone else have you.

Hearing another engine rev, Miguel hissed as he saw his main competition catch up to him. The nerve! Gripping onto the stick shift, Miguel just smirked as he decided to go full out. He had to show these people that he was number one for a goddamn reason!

-------

You were shaking in your seat as you watched the race from one of the monitors. Biting your thumb, you nearly whimpered as some of the other racers came a little too close to Miguel. Miguel was still far in the lead, but it didn't stop you from worrying.

After another few go arounds, you gasped in awe as Miguel took the victory once again. Unable to contain your excitement, you rushed over to your boyfriend as the announcer cheered him on.

"Are you ready for you-Oh, hey, wait! We're not done!"

You were giggling to yourself as Miguel carried you with in and threw you in his car before driving off. Glancing back at the annoyed announcer, you cheered and wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck from the back seat.

"I was so worried! No one told me I was going to be the prize!" You said with a soft whine. Miguel kissed your hand as he drove to a remote spot,

"Neither did I, babe. I wasn't going to let anyone win." He grumbled as he parked, "But, since I did. I should claim my prize."

You raised a brow before laughing as Miguel made his way to the backseat. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as you gave him light kisses around his face. Miguel hummed in response before licking your lips.

You parted your lips for him, moaning softly as Miguel ravished your mouth with his tongue. His hands roaming your upper body, slowly sliding your top off. A shiver ran down your spine as the cold AC from the car hit your exposed nipples.

"Are you sure you want to do it here?" You asked, humming softly as Miguel kissed your neck.

"Made sure its comfortable," Was all he said as he started to rub your clit through your pants, "But, can't make a mess in here."

You whimpered in response, arching your back as Miguel licked your breasts. His tongue swirling around your nipple as his rough movements against your clit made you tremble. You grabbed onto his arms, trying to balance yourself as you moved your hips.

Miguel grunted in response as he undid your shorts, throwing them on the ground. He proceeded to bite and suck against your nipples while his fingers went under your panties and circled against your sensitive bud.

"M-Mig~"

"So wet already for me." Miguel chuckled as you moaned, "If you make a mess in my car baby, I'll have to punish you."

"I-I won't." You whimpered, tugging against his arms.

You shuddered in pleasure as Miguel moved his fingers down to your cunt. It was hard for you to move since Miguel's body was pressing you into his seat. Another whimper of a moan escaped your lips as you felt him play with your folds before slowly entering a finger into your pussy.

"Miguel~" You cried out, throwing your head back.

Your moans grew louder as you felt your loving boyfriend pump his thick digits into your core. His tongue still against your breasts, sucking against them. You body was burning up, shaking and ready to burst...but you couldn't make a mess.

Part of you wanted to cum all over his seat and take the punishment, but the other part of you was enjoying Miguel's game. Gasping as Miguel entered another finger, you moaned loudly as he curled his fingers into your gummy core.

You finally burst when you felt his fingers press against your sweet spot. Crying out his name, you panted softly as Miguel pulled his fingers out. His smirk was wide as he licked his fingers clean, holding your hips up.

"Good girl, keeping my baby clean." He said with a low chuckle.

"Mhpm," You nodded and trembled as Miguel slowly pressed his tip inside your hole, "M-Miguel~"

"You're doing so good." He hummed, slowly pushing himself deeper inside you, "Always taking me in so well."

"Mig~ Miguel~" You cried out, feeling him fill you.

You squirmed in place, clenching against Miguel's dick as he furthered entered you. You could never get over the feeling of Miguel splitting you open, filling you to the very brim. His dick always bruising your cervix, giving you a reason to stay in bed for days.

"That's my girl," Miguel hummed as he sat his dick nice and deep inside of you.

You whined in response, reaching out for Miguel to move. He kissed your hands once more before starting his ruthless charade of thrusts. You cried and moaned as the car shook under you. Miguel's cock was slamming into your wet cunt, claiming you as his.

Arching your back as Miguel bullied his cock into you, you cried out a series of moans as you felt your orgasm approach again. Miguel held your hips, slapping himself into you. The sounds of your bodies echoing throughout the small car.

"Keep it in, baby. No messes," Miguel grunted as you came again.

You gasped and shuddered as Miguel changed positions, placing you on top of his lap. His grip was tight on your ass as he made you bounce against his cock. Pressing your chest against his, you whined as Miguel gave you his first load of cum..

"Good girl," Miguel hummed. You rested your head against his chest, your pussy sucking his cock dry,

"D-Don't bully me too much," You whimpered. Miguel stroked your cheek, kissing you deeply,

"I'm just claiming my beautiful prize," He teased, holding your hips as you started bouncing on him again, "Maybe we can make this an every victory reward?"

"Ah~ Mhm~ Y-Yes~" You moaned, panting heavily as you felt drawn into pleasure, "I-I'll reward you....for each win~"

"And if I lose?" Miguel asked, pinching your clit. You cried, cumming against him once more on the spot,

"T-Then...I'll ah~....mhm...c-console you."

"Awe, what did I do to deserve you?" Miguel chuckled, pressing you against his seat before pounding you from behind, "I'll reward you too, baby. You did cheer me on."

"Yes~ Yes!" You cried as Miguel bottomed out inside you, "M-Miguel~" You whimpered.

Miguel chuckled as he pulled out, using his fingers to keep his cum inside your abused cunt. You shivered in response and whined as Miguel put your clothes back on.

"No messes. Keep me inside." He whispered in your ear. You shivered in response and nodded,

"...So...When's the next race?"

"In an hour."

Your face turned bright red as Miguel roared in laughter. He kissed you once more before returning to the driver's seat, making his way back to the event sight. You behaved and sat in the back seat, anticipating his upcoming win.

You just had to make sure not to make a mess in his car.

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I hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

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c0llisiion · 10 months ago

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Cr. _3aem on twitter/x for the pic!

★pairing : gojo satoru + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: clan leader!gojo, mean dom!gojo, yandere type ig? , Mention of possessive gojo , cuckqueanery, voyeurism , degradation, fellacio , name calling , slapping, bondage — lmk if i missed any ^^

★W/C: 874

A/N : HIIIIII I DECIDED TO WRITE MY FIRST JJK SMUT CUS I BE GOING THROUGH THAT SATORU GOJO BRAINROT ( my gorgeous man is coming back frfrfr ) kinda gives me the ick everytime i proof read it 😭 but ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Thinking about clan leader Gojo, who you were forcefully married to. Your clan and the gojo clan had a lot of tension building up between each other, and the last option was to marry the gojo's gifted son and the youngest beauty of yours as a peace treaty. Satoru had met you before. To say the least, he was not very fond of you. He thought of you as just a daddy’s princess who had no talent, even though your cursed technique was one of the rarest. Satoru was not pleased at first, but he had a change of heart.

Satoru was rude to you every waking second. He treated you like his cumrag. You were to obey him at all times. You want to go out? He will join you too. He would threaten to slice someone’s head off if they ever laid eyes on you or stared at you for too long. Cause you were his toy. His to look at. His to fuck every night till you were brain-dead. He would dismiss his rudeness towards you as possession or love. His cerulean eyes glowed as he rutted into you at an inhumane pace. His pale hand covered your mouth, stopping you from talking back to him. “You are damn right about me hating you. Cause you are mine. Mine to fuck. Mine. All mine.” He would say, landing a harsh slap on one of your tits. You writhe in pain, kimono all over the place, and your legs split open as he pounded his length harder and harder. “My fucking whore. You like it, don't you? Getting treated like a useless whore? Yeah? That's right.. You can’t do anything about it cus you belong to me. Your perfect little body is all mine."

His servants are always on alert. After your little sessions he would order them to clean you up while he goes out into the gardens for a smoke. He wouldn’t even take a chance in cleaning you up himself or embracing you. ‘You don’t deserve it.’ Is all he said to you when you asked him.

He liked seeing you suffer. Your tears and your cries were a pleasure for him. That's why he got you tied up. Hands tied behind you, and legs tied wide open as you watch your husband get his dick sucked by another woman. This man was a sadist. He watched you cry and writhe as one of his hands was bobbing this other woman’s head on his dick. Legs splayed out. His hair tussled. His haori hung loose around his body and he had an evil smirk on his face. “You like the sight, wife? You like seeing me fuck someone else’s mouth, don't you sweetheart?” He said. “No! Satoru! Please! Please! I'm sorry! Please satoru stop it! I don't like it!” You cried out. Face stained with tears and voice hoarse from the constant begging and crying. Even though he treated you like shit, you still loved him. That was your husband. Your husband. Your legs twitched as your arousal dripped down from your wet cunt. “Seems like you are enjoying it.” You shook your head. He let out a dark chuckle and threw his head back as he made the other woman choke on his length. He let out a deep breathy moan as the woman kept bobbing up and down. He hissed and moaned, to taunt you. “So.. fucking.. Good.” He bluffed. “Satoru please! I can do so much better!! Please im sorry im so so sorry! I will only listen to you! I will worship you, Satoru! My eyes will only be for you! Please satoru!” You pleaded out in defeat. Crying uncontrollably. Satoru raised his eyebrows in amusement. The woman in between his legs was giving him the worst head of his life. He just wanted to see you beg for him after your little drama earlier that day. Satoru called in two of his trusted and loyal servants, commanding them to untie you. His servants had seen worse, so it wasn’t that awkward for them. As they untied you and left, you immediately fell on the floor, crawling to gojo mindlessly, with hunger in your eyes. You pushed the woman off his dick, sending her flying to the wall. satoru giggled at your eagerness. You immediately wrapped your lips on his dick, taking him in fully. His hands grabbed your hair and started thrusting into your mouth. You gagged and moaned as his dick hit the back of your throat. Gojo was in full pleasure. His head was thrown back, and his body arched off the couch as you give his underside and balls attention. You choked around his length, your nose hitting the base as he pushed you further down his shaft. He tugged your hair before pulling you away. You gasp and cough, a mixture of your spit and his precum all over your chin. A string of the mixture connected your lips and his tip. You looked up at him with your big doe eyes. Satoru looked disheveled. He slapped your face softly before pulling you into a heated kiss, tasting yours and his mixture, smiling into the kiss.

“I fucking hate you.”

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU FOR READING <333 how was it? Should i be writing more jjk? Ilysmmm!

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spicyicetea · 11 months ago

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So I got the new Pokemon DLC for Christmas and I’m on a big Pokemon kick currently so I’m going to give a gift to my fellow Pokémon lovers. Now I’m more well known for Yandere work but I also do love doing more soft romantic stuff. It heals my traumatised self. So I’ve decided to go through all Pokémon games I’ve played and write romantic and yandere sfw+slight Nsfw headcannons for every character I personally like. [No DLC content because I haven’t played any of them yet]. If there are any characters I haven’t done that anyone wants, either comment or request and I can add it onto this post. Merry late Christmas!

As mentioned before, these posts will contain NSFW topics like violence and sexual references, so if you’re triggered by these topic please be careful. The reader in this is also a Fem reader, I can redo this post for a Masc or GN reader if wanted but I’m writing it as Fem currently is just easiest for me. I don’t describe appearance like skin colour or hair but I do write the Y/N with a curvy figure in mind (I can’t help myself, I love thick thighs IM SORRY-)

Kanto

Red

Ah the original silent protagonist. I love this man so much, even more after his cameo is Sun and Moon. I’m not sure what it is about him but he has this strange allure to him, although I doubt that’s a unique opinion on silent characters. Anyway, onto the headcannons.

This is almost a given with the silent types but I feel like he is an amazing listener, only ever nodding to show he’s still listening or giving small “mhms”

You’re probably the only one he comfortably talks to other than Blue.

In public he likes holding your hand, he often communicates through squeezing your hand or fiddling with your fingers.

Psychic boyfriend No.1

This man can just tell what you need, when you need it. Whether it’s comfort cuddles after a bad day of for period troubles.

Speaking of period troubles, this man not only will buy you whatever you need, he’ll wash the sheets, run you a bath and let you use him as a personal heater.

Yandere + NSFW

This man doesn’t open up to people easily yet you made him fall apart.

You made him stutter, drop things and slip up in battles when you cheered for him, he’s whipped.

You were the only woman that’s ever caught his attention and you aren’t leaving him anytime soon.

So get used to him possessively having a hand on you at all times, glaring daggers at any other person you pay attention to.

He’s a very private person so isn’t one to leave marks on you openly, but he does take great pleasure in leaving dark marks on your thighs.

Speaking of thighs… he’s a giver, do what you want with that.

Blue

Ah the smug bastard rival, and I promise you… he’s still insufferable, but in a loving way.

Bullies you playfully. A day doesn’t go by where he doesn’t mess up your hair and trip you up.

But he loves you truly.

You could not have asked for a more cuddly man, I didn’t expect to have this headcannon but I imagine this man is very eager to stay cuddled up to you as much as possible.

Although he talks a lot and loves it when you compliment him, I also think he’s a good listener, but like I’m a hype man way.

He’ll sit by the bathroom door while you’re in the bath letting you vent about anything you want just egging you on. “Wow she sounds like a bitch-“

A man who loves PDA, it’s his favourite way of staking his claim on your beautiful self.

Yandere + NSFW

Has dated his fair share of girls, but he wants you so bad.

He will fight for you, no matter what. This man will abuse whatever position he has to impress you. A relative of the professor’s, ex Champion, and a gym leader. He will do whatever he can to have you.

He is incredibly touchy, the moment other people aren’t looking, his hands are under your shirt. Nibbling your neck and kissing your earlobes. Actually he’d do that even with people watching,

Although he’d be mighty mad if someone watched your gorgeous body, he might even hurt someone.

Brock

This man is underrated.

The most loveable family man you’ll ever meet.

He loves to cook for you. Everyday. Please let this man make you breakfast in bed.

In fact no, he wants you to cook with him. All romantic. His chest to your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ears while you chop up vegetables.

If you get along with his siblings, he will propose to you on the spot.

Very openly affectionate, but never goes further than a hug in public… ok maybe you can get a kiss on the cheek.

Yandere + NSFW

This man has a breeding kink… you can’t change my mind.

He wants a nice big family and the idea of you, heavy and round with his baby. Not to mention how your… other assets will change.

Will happily suffocate in your tits, and if you’re pregnant, he will help relieve any discomfort you have.

If another man hurt you in any way, he’s going to go… missing. He’d break a man in half over his knee for you, and his Onix is very strong.

Lance

Am I the only one who would smash? Yes? No? Alrighty-

He’s always hits me as a someone who likes spending time with his lover in silence.

Not opposed to PDA but gets worried about his fans potentially harassing you, let’s you borrow his dragonite to escort you between towns.

Away from the public and just with his friends (elite four mainly) he loves to have you by his side, often whispering things about his day to you, information he only shares with you.

Also a man who is very hot, like he’s warm constantly, will be the best snuggler when it’s cold.

Yandere + NSFW

Originally I thought this man would be rather… vanilla but I feel like he’d be into wax play. I can’t explain it, but I can picture him loving to spill wax all over your tits.

For the more yandere side of things, he’s the strongest dragon trainer in Kanto. He will use his influence to make himself your only option, not that you’d realise, he’s not an idiot.

Giovanni

BARK BARK BARK GRRR MAFIA DADDY-

Your relationship is hidden very well from most people, you don’t get to villain status with a clean record and no enemies.

Despite that, you love a life of luxury baby.

He loves nothing more than to pamper you. His beautiful girl sat on his lap, with her hair all done up and nails all pretty. Now that’s the life.

Yandere + NSFW

I think he has great Yandere potential.

You sat comfortably on his lap in his office, his hands trailing comfortably under your skirt.

He loves watching you squirm as his fingers traces tight circles- well that’s all you get for now.

As I mentioned before, I believe he’d default to yandere to be honest.

He would not hesitate to kidnap but I like the idea that he’d try and woo you first. Dinner dates… wine… murdering his competitors.

Yeah, he’d be a yandere.

Johto

(I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never played these ones so I have no significant opinion on any of the characters)

Hoenn

Steven

This is just a crow in a human form, mr I love shiny rocks (me fr fr)

His love language is most definitely gift giving. Your shared house is littered with crystals and shiny things he’s found over his travels.

He loves to press kisses all over your fingers, buying you as many rings as possible for you and him to match. If he buys himself a new ring you’re getting one too.

Loves showing you off to the elite four, and begs that his dad approves. Not that he needs his approval but it’d be awkward if he didn’t.

Yandere + NSFW

Possessive as fuck.

You ain’t getting away from him easily. He will track you down as long as he needs to before you calm down and quit running away.

Loves pampering you once you behave though.

He kisses up your legs to your thighs, such passionate loving words followed by the mantra of “dirty girl” and “slut”

Maxie

Ok all the villains just radiate Yandere energy- so they’re all gonna be pure yandere + NSFW warning

This man doesn’t have it in him to kidnap someone… oh wait that’s a lie.

When he met you that all changed

He needs you, he would hurt anyone to get you to himself.

He’d leave dark bites on your neck, massaging your hips to tangle you together.

Another man I think would be into wax play, also a corruption kink. (No I won’t elaborate)

Archie

Big brute of a man… he’s going to make you beg for his mercy.

He loves holding you in his lap, cradling you delicately while he peppers kisses along your neck.

Will bite you, this man is a shark and will leave slightly bloody bite marks all over your body.

This man eats pussy for breakfast, you will never not cum first, a truly good man.

He is far more eager to kill a man to prove his love for you than he should be.

Sinnoh

I’ll be honest I tried to but I’m tired and I’m just going to be writing Yandere and NSFW headcannons. I’m sorry people-

Barry

This boy is so happy to finally have met someone who loves him… you’re not allowed to leave, he’ll cry.

For some reason I see this mans as wanting a family… he wants to be a more present father than his own.

Not one to leave marks on you but will beg you to stay home so he can cuddle and pamper you all day.

When he eventually takes over the battle frontier (he so would you can’t tell em otherwise) he will use that position to “protect you”.

Cyrus

Ah yes, the cold emotionless man who falls for a sweet woman and kills all competition… I approve!

PDA? Who is that? The most you’ll get from him is his hand on your shoulder moment before he orders team galactic to handle someone who was making moves on you.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You’re the only woman he could ever love.

He lays awkwardly in bed but melts when your head rests on his chest, that was when the yandere switch flipped and he locked you in his apartment.

At least the man lays some good pipe, also this man has a bondage kink cause I said so.

Unova

Elesa

You think that the world won’t notice the famous model and gym leader with a girl on her arm. You’re going to end up centre of the Unova news for the next month.

She loves this though, now everyone knows you belong to her, and anyone who ignores that will just get zapped.

Prepare to share clothes, and prepare for her to watch you undress, she can’t help herself.

The woman loves to zap you, just lightly though, you’ll live… and probably cum.

Emmett + Ingo

Yes you get both, these two are a package deal ok?

Now… prepare to never leave their sight.

They want you at every battle, cheering them on, cuddling with the Joltiks or napping in their office using their coats as blankets.

Now… ok these two are kinky. They just are-

Ingo is 100% a family man, big breeding kink.

I think Emmett is more, adventurous, bondage and impact play seems right in my opinion.

Love to… “threaten” to throw people on the tracks when they flirt with you.

Aww what a sweet little thing, come and give me a hug- now time to hide you away where no one can ever see you again!

Honestly, he probably fell for you after seeing your relationship with your Pokemon. Almost every Pokemon you see likes you.

He’s very possessive over you. It’s no secret that he was raised in an incredibly unhealthy way, so he can’t exactly discern between inappropriate and appropriate behaviour in pursuing his courtship with you.

Now onto more NSFW art themes, he 100% praises you constantly and makes sure you’re tended to first. Often ends up super pent up because he wants to take care of you but sometimes go so far and overstimulates you. Don’t worry, the aftercare is amazing though.

Ghetsis

. . . Bastard

I’m only including this mother fucker because he’s so evil he’d be one of the most extreme Yanderes out of all of them. And because if still smash because I’m sinful-

The moment he sees you and falls for you, you can bet you’re getting kidnapped, sorry you just are.

I would bet money that he is the most possessive out of all of them but, and hear me out, would also be kinda attentive?

I can totally picture him being cold and accidentally upsetting you only to spend the rest of the next day showering you on gifts.

You’d also be seen as a god to the rest of team plasma, so enjoy being worshipped.

Oh and NSFW… spanking, degrading and tying you up, enjoy

Colress

Ah yes, my adorable scientist that I think is a kinky motherfucker-

He would make a collar to track you when you leave his side, he isn’t too keen on the idea of locking you insider after all.

Wouldn’t kidnap you but would murder the competitors.

Anyway onto the kinks I think would suit him…

He’d 100% make different types of vibrators so he can cuff you to the bed and watch you squirm. Considered making you a ball gag but he gets off on your moans, that does mean he ends up edging you before fucking you himself.

Kalos

Lysandre

Sugar daddy

I could leave that like that but fine fine I’ll feed you horny bastards.

He parades you around more than any of the others, always making sure you’re wearing the finest clothes. Usually also wearing his jacket, he can’t stand gawkers staring. Admiring your beauty he can handle, but staring at his woman is punishable by a flamethrower.

You live the luxury life. Fancy bath soaps and massages. Cafe trips daily so he can make sure you’re eating well. Sex in the back of his car in secluded car parks when you’ve been misbehaving at dinner.

He’s a rough lover but amazing with aftercare, so there’s that.

Alola

Nanu

Dilf energy… and I’m hungry for it I’ll be honest.

So tired, but you give him energy. Energy to do crime to keep you to himself but still energy. But hey why argue, you get to cuddle his cats all day.

Also, if you’re a trainer that has cat Pokemon… he’d probably marry you. Proposal on sight. Already on one knee.

He isn’t very openly affectionate but as long as no one is around he’ll always have an arm around your waist. You’re well protected.

Another man that I believe would make sure you cum first every time. Just make sure you have a warm bath after for your back, he hits me as a rough lover.

Guzma

Oh you poor girl… not because he’s going to treat you bad but he’s obsessed.

You’re probably kidnapped by team skull but you had no idea it was a kidnapping, it was more of a scooby-doo chase.

Yeah you now have like 50 babies to care for but don’t worry, big sis Plumeria and your new husband will help you. What you don’t remember getting married? Oh silly, you belonged to him the moment your eyes met.

He’s very inexperienced with relationships so give him a little time to learn. He’s a fast learner in bed so he won’t leave you unsatisfied. Will pamper you anyway he can.

Oh and have mercy on this man… don’t wear his clothes, he can’t handle it.

Hisui

Volo

Little shit… he’s going to try and use anything he can to claim you.

Whether that be advances in front of people to scare them off and stake his claim over you.

He does have a decently good reputation so no one would expect him to be dangerous, so you’re kinda fucked, Cyllene would protect you if she needed to though.

He talks down to you all the time, you’re not his equal, you are his property in his eyes.

Adaman

This man is smitten. No more smooth and confident Adaman, this man is a stuttering mess.

He wants to marry you so badly, please let this man marry you… and then put a baby in you but marriage first.

This man gives you jewellery, clothes, helps you befriend Pokémon or catch them depending on which method you prefer.

Cuddler, he will snuggle and cuddle as long as you want, so what he has duties? His pretty little wife wants his attention and you will get it.

Irida

Had noooo idea how to handle her feelings. Probably started as a childish crush at first but it developed into something much more.

She wants to spend the rest of her life with you by her side.

Glares at everyone who speaks to you, even people from her clan. She’s very jealous very easily.

But she loves you, and will let you spend unsupervised time with some people she trusts… only her Wardens, although she doesn’t trust Ingo as much as she doesn’t know him as well, not with you at least.

Warden Ingo

Dilf energy again

His memory may be strange and shaky but he remembers how to treat a woman he loves. Remembers things Elesa told him and Emmet, although to him it’s more echos of voices he thinks he knows.

He loves cuddling up to you while watching the newly hatched sneasels learn how to live. Although this does awaken a want for family he forgot he had.

He isn’t the most trusting person, but he is a good judge of character… and has gotten into a fistfight with Volo when he hit on you. Blood was drawn.

He throws a good punch, but would never hurt you, he adores you, you make him feel good in a familiar way.

Anyway you freaks want NSFW- this man lives up in the mountains, them rough hands can do wonders. And he loves making you feel good, people pleaser but only for you.

Paldea

Arven

Aw what a sweet boy, who will strangle anyone who tries to take you from him.

This boy lost both his parents and nearly lost his best friend/dog… he is terrified he’ll lose you too.

He cooks he cleans and then makes sure to rub your back and give you love so you’ll love him back

Please give this boy some affection or the boys around you will pay the price of you don’t.

Professor Sada

Mommy?

This woman is feral, not only did she basically throw you over her shoulder when she met you but you never don’t have bite marks all over your skin. It’s her way of telling everyone your hers.

I feel she’d give more freedom than Turo, only if Robo Sada was with you for safety… and to break the arms of whoever looked at you the way she did.

Also this woman is a mosterous pussy devouring fiend, don’t argue, you know I’m right.

Professor Turo

Oh daddy Turo- criminally underrated daddy let alone Yandere daddy.

I feel like Turo most definitely would have kept you locked down in his lab with him, convincing you that you help him with his research. I mean… he isn’t wrong, you motivate him to keep going.

However girl has needs and he often get consumed by his work. It wasn’t until he caught you handling problems yourself on your shared bed that he decided robo Turo should take over his research a little bit more.

It’d be a shame if you fell in love with a toy he so kindly made for you than him himself.

Larry

Ah my favourite ordinary business man… I’m so normal about him.

He is very normal about you too, except the fact that he has pocketed any handkerchief you’ve used while eating with him.

Oh and many dates that are just trying new food, oh and bird watching.

Again, call me weird but I think this man wants a family, total breeding kink.

Also I feel like he likes a rather feminine woman, not in the frilly skirt way but in the way of “I don’t N E E D a man but I like you”. You like him, right?

Rika

M m mommy?

Dominatrix… owns a whip… bondage. ANYWAY-

Not above using their position as elite four to scare off competition and keeping you in line.

Oh don’t cry, you won’t escape anyways.

She only uses PDA to send a message to other women or men, “hands off”

Jacq

Teach me about biology bb-

ANYWAY… loves to discover new Pokémon with you.

Will happily teach you about your favourite Pokémon for your attention.

Please don’t look away, he’ll have a breakdown.

Miriam

Ah cute little nurse… she has access to so many dangerous drugs.

She will scream and cry if you choose someone else, don’t do it, she’s an ugly cryer.

She loves to give you “check ups” when no one is looking.

On a side note, don’t you know that orgasms are good for your health? You didn’t? Oh silly let Miriam help you out, her fingers can work wonders.

THIS TOOK FOREVER…

But it was worth it enjoy animals. I want to get more serious with Pokemon x reader writing so I hope some people enjoy this… I’m never doing this big of a post again… this was meant to be a Christmas post- way to many bloody tags to add :,)

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beetlejuicyy · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, hope you're doing well! If it's not much trouble, may I please request Jealous/Protective Bada x fem reader? Where reader is part of team Bebe and dating Bada (a fact only known by the other members and family.) Throughout the show, alot of the other ladies from different teams take a liking to reader and crush on her, finding her sexy and adorable and try to flirt with her and ask her out. Which Bada does well with brushing off for the most part until reader's ex shows up out of nowhere and tries to win her back.. With a little angst, but all in all fluffy and a tad smutty at the end, with sexy dominant Bada?

Possessive

Pairing: Bada × Bebe! reader

Synopsys: you are a member of team bebe in swf2 but not many people know you are also Bada's girlfriend

Warnings: gets nsfw by the end

Notes: im sorry this took so long :(

Masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were the first member of team Bebe to find out about Street Woman Fighter 2. The production reached out to Bada and, unlike the previous year when she had to turn down the offer, she was very much excited to join the show this time. She talked to you first, because being on TV meant that all eyes would be on you and your relationship which was very much intimate.

“Are you comfortable with that?” Bada asked. She was the leader of the team you were part of and she always made it clear when she was speaking as your leader or as your girlfriend.

“I know it’s important for you.” You replied.

“It’s important for you too.” She frowned.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t go through the hassle of hiding our relationship on TV for myself. I’d do anything for you though.”

Bada knew that. After deciding you would be teammates only for the public eye, she talked to the rest of the girls as well. Fast forward to the first few days on set, you found it harder and harder to act like friends only. It was stressful and tiring but you couldn’t lean on Bada as your girlfriend, but only as a friend. People were always with you, staff members, other contestants, lately fans would even greet you at the end of a long recording day. When you got home both of you only wanted to rest so there was really no time for the two of you.

But the show was fun and it was rewarding. People liked you more than you expected and soon you made friends amongst the contestants thanks to the missions you collaborated for.

“Bada is the type girls like.”

You heard this over and over since the first day. But the girls took a liking on you too. Maybe you weren’t as intimidating or cool like your girlfriend was, but you would often hear the girls screaming because of your sexy dance or cute charms.

“I wanna take you home with me!!” Harimu yelled as you showed off your moves in a battle. Bada would only smirk and brush it off, even if it was somewhat annoying. She was very proud of you and she couldn’t wait to reward you with a warm hug. She was the one taking you home anyway.

“Could you stop being so pretty? It’s distracting me.” Wackxxy joked when you were on a small break on set.

“Only for you.” You winked back at her in a flirting tone and she only yelled at you in embarrassment, blushing.

Bada didn’t mind this either. She knew you were playful and she was happy you felt comfortable around everyone. It was annoying though because she noticed Wackxxy had been checking you out across the room the whole day. But you were hers and that’s the only thing that mattered.

She didn’t witness the most annoying thing of all though. The leaders were working on the choreography for their mission and Bada was chatting with Halo exchanging impressions and advice about leading a team.

“It’s hard especially when they’re in a bad mood.” Halo complained, although she smiled. “Actually yesterday Haechi Wang was sooo impossible to deal with.”

“Is she ok?” Bada asked.

“Yeah, actually she will be.” Halo laughed. “It’s a secret though.” Bada raised her eyebrows in surprise. Halo didn’t need convincing. “She asked out one of your members. Y/n.” Bada felt her heart stop for a second. People making you compliments, flirting with you that was bearable. But she felt jealousy creep through every cell in her body when she imagined someone else taking you out.

“Oh really?” She replied, forcing herself to laugh nonchalantly.

“Yeah, she was rejected though.” Halo said. Bada exhaled in relief. “But she couldn’t concentrate at all after that. She really likes y/n.”

Bada confronted you that night on your way home, as if you weren’t exhausted enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” She asked annoyed.

“When exactly? When you were busy teaching everyone the choreography or when you collapsed on the bed and fell asleep in your dirty clothes?” You spat back.

She didn’t say anything. It was sad that the only intimate discussion you had that day was to argue.

Sometimes you felt more like a fan of hers during the show. Whenever Bada would leave everyone astonished with her powerful moves and boyish charms you cheered with everyone else. She rarely looked at you, though, busy paying attention to the feedback of the judges or complimenting and hugging Kirsten. That also pissed you off but you brushed it off.

The closer you got to the finals, the more pressure Bada felt as the leader. Often times she would cry because of stress and all you could do was comfort her like a friend. You couldn’t kiss her, you couldn’t touch her more than a friend would. But that was ok.

Bada missed you, even though you worked together everyday. After Haechi Wang asked you out she started paying twice as much attention to every person getting close to you. She would get so petty that she would simply walk up to you and grab you by the hand when someone would be too familiar with you. It started showing on her face how annoyed she was when people called you sexy or pretty. Her tongue would poke against her cheek in suppressed anger when Mina Myoung called you girlfriend material.

However, the worst thing happened on the first time you had to perform with an audience. After several episodes aired on TV, people were very interested in the show so the venue was full. Amongst those people was also your ex. After the show, as you were waiting for the other members of Bebe to get ready to go home, a familiar voice called out your name. You turned around to see your very ex waiting outside to talk to you.

“Long time no see.” She said. You immediately thought you didn’t want Bada to see her here.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. The relationship didn’t last much but the toxic behavior left wounds that you still had to heal.

“I saw you on TV…” She said, taking a few steps closer to you. “And I missed you.”

“I don’t.” You brushed her off harshly.

“Hey.” She grabbed you by the hand and you felt your whole body react. You slapped her hand away in annoyance. “I know you miss me too.”

“I don’t. Can you leave please?”

“Don’t you think we deserve one more chance?” She insisted, standing right in front of you. You could smell her perfume and the smell brought back not so nice memories.

“What’s going on here?” Everything just got worse, you thought when you heard Bada’s voice. She knew your ex all too well. She walked past you, stopping in between the two of you, her taller frame pushing you gently behind her.

“We were remembering beautiful memories.” Your ex grinned at Bada, although your girlfriend was towering over her intimidatingly.

“She was leaving.” You said at the same time.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Bada said in a low voice. You saw her whole body tense as she clenched her fist.

“So you two are fucking after all! It’s so obvious even on TV.” Your ex was unfortunately not intimidated by her and you expected it. “I know that look in her eyes, when she’s looking at someone she’s fucking.” She continued, and you groaned in exasperation. You tried pushing Bada away but she wouldn’t move. “She’s giving it to me right now.”

As soon as the words left her lips Bada pushed her violently, kicking her against the wall. Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, she pulled it harshly as she leaned her head so she could look directly in your ex’s eyes.

“Get lost or I call security.”

“Fine, fine.”

You remembered Bada being angry when you told her things about your past relationship. But you never imagined she would get this violent about it. As your ex left, not before gesturing you to call her, you leaned against the wall and sat down on the floor, exhausted. Bada crouched down in front of you, asking you if you were alright.

“I could handle it you know.” You sighed.

“I’m sorry I just… I got carried away.” Your girlfriend mumbled, grabbing your hand.

“You were badass though.”

The ride home was quiet as always since you started filming for the show. However, it wasn’t stressful like other nights. You were very tired so when you got home you went straight in the shower. You heard Bada over the sound of the running water, asking you if she could come in so she wouldn’t scare you. You thought she was going to take her makeup off or something, but she slid the door open and joined you in the shower. You gasped as her hands were cold when she grabbed you by the hips, pulling you closer. Your back was pressed against her as she pressed her cheek against your wet hair.

“I miss you.” She said.

“You saw me five minutes ago.” You joked but you were feeling a pleasant pressure in your lower stomach as your wet bodies pressed against each other.

“I miss my girlfriend.” She repeated, lips almost touching your ear. Her hand moved lower between your legs and her fingers slid between your folds, over your wetness.

“Then act like it.” You said, grabbing her by the wrist, guiding her hand exactly where you needed it to be. She pulled you gently, pushing you against the wet shower wall, careful not to slip.

“You’re mine, you know.” Her other hand cupped one of your breasts as her fingers pressed in circles against your clit. It was always so easy for her to get you wet. “You can tell that to everyone.” You moaned, leaning back your head in pleasure. “We can rehearse, hm? Tell me.” Her lips presses against the wet skin of your neck, sucking a little to hard.

“I’m yours.” You breathed out.

“That wasn’t it.” She clicked her tongue. You moaned loudly as she inserted a finger inside you, making it even harder for you to talk. “Try again.”

“I-ah…”

“Mhm. Come on baby.”

“I amhm…”

“You can do it, princess.” The more you tried to articulate words the faster her slender fingers moved inside you and you whimpered half in pleasure half in frustration.

“I am yours, Bada.” You finally managed to say.

“Good girl.” She praised you. “You can tell Haechi Wang that.”

#bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #smut

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fanfreakinfiction · 1 year ago

Text

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that.

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet.

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit.

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history.

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely.

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man.

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys.

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

—

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you.

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly.

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff.

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack.

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing.

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers.

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations.

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night…

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar.

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm?

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu.

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right.

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life.

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar.

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

—

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool.

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety.

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment.

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head.

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms.

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy.

—

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible.

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

—

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning.

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

—

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers.

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him.

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more.

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light.

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t.

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you.

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place.

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm.

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then.

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you.

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him.

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering.

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned.

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither.

#din djarin x pregnant reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mando x reader #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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soggyriceee · 1 year ago

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red handed | yandere!konig

THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT IT GOT FUCKING DELETED IM SO SORRY TO WHOEVER REQUESTED IT I MADE THIS EXTRA SMUTTY JUST FOR YOU I HOPE YOU FIND THIS

summary: Konig is crazy possessive and jealous. You become too close to a guy and he doesn't like that, so he takes matters into his own hands

warning: female!reader, blood, murder, unprotected p in v, mommy kink, breeding kink, knives, not proof read yet

Konig kept you in the house always. he never trusted anyone to not try and get at you. ever. you were gorgeous, his ideal woman. and he was not going to let you get away, not that easy. anytime you wanted to leave he'd always begin to cry. "why do you want to leave me libeling." he'd cry, gripping onto your waist, pulling you back onto the couch. he'd cry and cry and cry until you told him you were joking, even though you weren't. he'd wipe his eyes and look up at you. "I dont like that joke mommy, you know that." he'd say, going back to hugging you.

you never questioned why he acted the way he did. he as always like this, and something about it attracted you to him. the way he'd call you mommy, but tell you that you couldnt leave. boss you around. "mommy go make me food, im hungry." he'd say, letting releasing your boob from his mouth. yea, that was another thing he aways did. anytime you both were cuddling, he'd pull your boob out from your shirt, placing it in his mouth and lay on your chest. it was cute.

whenever you both would have sex, he'd boss you around to. "get on your knees mommy, gonna fuck that throat." and he always did. he'd always whimper how good you treat him, how your only his. your contact with family was limited as well. he didnt have any family to talk to, he only had you. and he only wanted you to have him. of course your family had tried to help you get out that relationship, but you couldnt leave Konig. no matter how controlling or crazy he was, you loved him. and he loved you. but, he loved you a bit too much.

"mommy im going to go to the store now. do you need anything?" he'd ask, placing the pink glittery collar on your neck, tying the rope of it to the coffee table. you had grown accustom to this now. you actually enjoyed it. especially since he did it to make sure you would never escape while he was gone. "mm some ice cream?" you asked, looking up at him. he smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss you. "anything for you mommy. ill be back." he grabbed the keys before turning back to you. "you better still be there when I come back." he said before leaving the house.

and you did. for a bit. it was a sunny day outside, windy. it was the perfect weather. you hadn't seen outside in so long. he always had the patio door locked. "you can escape if I leave it open." he told you. but you wouldn't escape. you were happy where you were right now. but that didnt mean you dont miss the outside. you looked at the TV, watching the girl run around outside, her boyfriend following her. they both looked so happy. why couldnt that be you and Konig?

you knew Konig would be gone for a while. you both lived about 15 miles from a store. plus traffic. you had a good hour and a half before he'd come home. so, with all the strength you had, you began to untie the knot. he never made them too tight. he didnt wanna kill you. he just wanted to keep you still.

you had gotten the knot undone and watched the knot fall to the floor. you swallowed before standing slowly, looking to the front door. you hadn't been outside in so long. and Konig always made it seem like it was the worst out there. "people will murder you mommy. they walk around with knives, guns." he'd tell you every time you look at the door. one time, he actually got angry at you for talking about going outside and tied you to the table, keeping you there for two days. of course he fed you, gave you water. "I dont want to do this but you cant leave me mommy. ever."

so justifiably, you were a bit hesitant. but you made your way to the door, putting on his big shoes, since you no longer had a pair of your own. you gripped the knob tightly, turning it slowly. when you opened the door, the wind blew so softly in your face. it was nice. the sun was out, birds were chirping. there wasn't too many cars outside. you had completely forgotten what it looked like outside your neighborhood. you took a step down, closing the door behind you.

"hey! haven't seen you in a while!" a deep voice called out. you jumped and tried around, meeting eyes with your neighbor, Jackson. "oh hi.. uh.." "Jackson." he laughed, putting the hose down. he jogged over to you, looking at you with a questioning look. "uh whats with the.. collar." he asked, meeting your worried gaze all over. your hand ran over the collar, remembering what Konig said before he left. "u-uh i.. uhm.." you were quickly growing panicked and Jackson caught on almost immediately.

"sit down. I can take it off of you." he said gently, grabbing your hand slowly, trying his hardest not to scare you. you sat on the concrete steps, watching his every move. "d-do you have a gun?" you asked, remembering all the stories Konig had told you. Jackson laughed, looking up at you. but when he realized you were serious, he cleared his throat. "no why..why would I have a gun on me?" he asked. he leaned in close, his hands reaching the back of your neck to undo the collar. his lips were super close, but he never placed them onto yours.

"there." he smiled, moving away. you felt your neck relax, the collar in his hands. " I dont know what Konig has going on in there. he never talks to anyone. ever. I do get worried because you know, nobody can even see inside the house." he said, looking to the door. "does he just keep you in there?" he asked after a moment of silence. you didnt answer. ".. you know. my sister, she was in a relationship like yours. abusive boyfriend. I can get her to talk to you she's actually in th-" "he doesn't abuse me. he treats me really well. he just.. gets scared that ill leave." you said, looking up and down the street. you had no clue what his car looked like, but you looked regardless.

"is that why you have a collar on?" he asked, leaning forward to meet your gaze. you remained silent. "I like things like that." you finally said, maintaining eye contact. he sighed and pursed his lips before standing. " come to my house. I can give you some food. water. whatever you need." he said, reaching his hand out. you looked at it for a moment before looking down. " I have a cat. two." he said, catching your attention. "cats?"

he nodded, a smile forming on his lips. "two cats. it can be for a bit. before he comes home." he said. you were hesitant, looking back into the street. what would happen if Konig came back and saw you weren't in your usual spot? or even in the house? what would happen if he saw you in another mans house? "hey. it'll be for 15 minuets. max. then you can go back. I just wanna make sure you got food and water." he said, kneeling down in front of you. why did he think you were getting abused? you said you weren't. "I already ate today but.. can I play with your cats?" you asked, taking his hand that still hung out. he smiled and nodded, pulling you up. "of course. their names are snowy and rain. one is super white and the other is grey." he said, helping you to his home.

every time Konig left you did this. and you have yet to be caught. it was nice, having a whole new friend. he was super kind, a completely different person than Konig. but you still felt bad for lying to Konig. you weren't cheating, you knew that. but it was nice to make a friend and talk to someone outside those four walls. "I found the ice cream you like by the way, ill bring it to you whenever you come back next." he smiled, walking you back to your house. " oh you didnt have to." you said, stepping onto the first step.

you turned to him, smiling up at him. " yea but.. I guess I just care too much about the small things you say." he said, a soft smile on his face. you looked down, feeling awkward at how close he was. " I uhm.. I wanna take you away from him. you deserve to see the outside, your not some pet." he said, grabbing your chin to lift your head softly. his eyes wandered to your lips, swallowing. " you deserve better." he mumbled, leaning in slow.

you backed away, looking down to your feet. "Jackson im happy here.. I like being in there like that." you said softly. he sighed, lifting your chin again. " why cant you see hes abusing you? ive seen what abuse is before please just-" before he could finish his sentence his body was yanked back, an angry, no. not angry. a furious Konig standing in front of you now. you immediately began to feel dizzy, like you were about to puke. he looked into your eyes, his eye twitching. Jackson groaned below you both, rubbing his throat where his collar was pulled.

"K-Konig I j-just w-" he stepped over Jackson, gripping your wrist and turning you around. he opened the door from behind you, shoving you inside. he closed the door behind him, watching you walk backwards. "mommy who was that? why did you leave? I told you not to leave." he said, walking towards you, long and powerful strides. " h-hes a friend I promise. I just w-wanted to go outside it g-got hot in here." you said, tripping over pure air, falling to the floor. you hit your head on the ground, gripping it. he stood, watching you below him. " am I not good enough? he could have killed you mommy. people have guns. and knives." he said, voice flat. "he doesn't have a gun Konig.. he told me." you replied, wiping your eyes from the impact.

he grabbed your arm, yanking you up. he dragged you into the bedroom, shoving you to the bed. you looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. "mommy am I not good enough for you? do you not trust me?" he cried, wiping his eyes. you didn't know what to do. you were scared, but hurt. you didn't want to hurt him. you just wanted new friends. "konig I just-" he took the photo of you both on the night stand, throwing it across the room. you jumped, looking down. " mommy you-you broke your promise. you promised you'd stay." he cried, walking over to you.

he pushed you on the bed, laying on top of you. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight. "i..i'm sorry." you said, still confused on what to do. he sniffled into your shirt. "promise..promise you won't talk to him. every again." he said, looking up at you. of course you didn't want to stop. you had made a friend. a nice person. but Konig was much more important, you couldn't lose him. so you nodded, softly saying 'okay'. he smiled and nodded, laying back on your head. "ill even make sure of it.." he whispered, quietly enough for you to not hear.

you hadn't realized it, but you had fallen asleep shortly after Konig telling you to never leave again. you also woke up to an empty bed. rubbing your eyes, you turned to the alarm clock on his side of the bed. it read 9:20 PM. "how long was I out.." you mumbled. shuffling off the bed, you began to look for your boyfriend, calling misname out softly. you didnt know if he was still mad, or if he was somewhere taking some drastic measure to make you stay in this house with him like boarding up the windows or something.

you yawned, walking down the hall. "konig.." you called out again, peeking your head into the bathroom before making you way into the living room. no lights were on and that terrified you. Konig was not one to leave you alone without telling you. you switched the living room light on, eyes landing right onto Konig's phone. you grabbed it, opening it. he had given you his password for his phone in case you wanted to play games while he made you dinner. he trusted you not to do anything stupid.

just as you were about to explore the rest of your home, you heard a scream from outside. a male scream. you jumped at first, but then turned to the patio door. it was dark outside, the only light coming from the cheap, old street lights. you swallowed and walked over to the patio, pulling the curtains back a bit more to see what was going on. the first thing you saw, was your Jackson's front door wide open, the light from inside his house illuminating the front half of his home. then, your eyes scanned the distance from his house to yours, landing on a figure only 2 feet from where your patio was.

the screaming was no more, it came and went very quickly. but you couldnt stop your hands from shaking as you watched this tall figure's arms move up and slam back down. you didnt have the best hearing, but you were sure you heard some sort of squelching every time this figures arms went down. you felt like you were going to be sick. even more so, you were scarred this man was going to come for you next. Konig wasn't here to protect you. you'd die in this house alone, cut up into small enough pieces to eat.

you felt like a deer in headlights, watching your neighbor be stabbed to death. and it lasted quite a while. the more you watched, the more scared you got. but then, you heard the figures voice. " that'll keep you away." he said, or you ended up making out. the phone in your hand dropped when you realized that figure wasn't some random murderer. it was Konig.

he stood from his kneeled position, wiping his hands on his shirt. he walked over the now limp body on the floor, grabbing a shovel from beside him. you watched as Konig began to shovel into the dirt, obviously making a grave for this poor man. well, was it a poor man? you tried to feel sad. and you think a part of you did. I mean, you just watched someone get fucking murdered. but at the same time, you sorta liked how Konig was so protective and crazy over you.

of course killing someone may be extreme in any case of jealousy, but seeing how far he would go just to keep you with him made your thighs clench together. seeing how he truly believed with his whole heart that you were only his, nobody else can touch you or even be close to you. you know you should feel scared of him at this time, but you didnt. you felt honored, and honestly safe. you had a man who would do anything to make you feel safe, protected. and he wasn't going to ever let you go. you felt genuinely loved and wanted. but maybe that was the months and months of Konig's personality and his own craziness getting to you.

and so, you watched as he dragged Jackson into the hole, quickly covering him back up with dirt. you were a bit scared Konig would be caught, but that was a situation for later. right now, more than anything, you wanted to show him just how much hes made you needy for him.

he patted the area down, trying to make it look less suspicious before making his way back to the patio. his eyes landed on yours once he came up to the door, the shovel in his hand dropping. you slowly slid the door open, looking up at him. it was silent. he didnt say anything, but the tears were not shy of coming out his eyes. " mommy im so.. sorry. did you see-" " everything. I did." you said, looking at his bloody neck and face. his hands were no different, if anything they were worse. his clothes were stained red as well.

he dropped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. sobs escaped from him, loud sobs. " konig come inside please, you'll wake the neighborhood." you said, dragging him by his arms into the house. it obviously took a bit, given his large size, but he eventually was inside, back pressed against the patio door. you sighed and sat in front of him, taking his bloody, shaky hands from his face. " konig please..please look at me." you said, wrapping your hands around two of his large fingers. he sniffled and looked up at you, the blood from his face dripping down.

"i..God.. I liked what you did." you mumbled, looking to his chest. he sniffled once more, looking at you. " what?" he asked, his voice still shaky from being caught. you sighed and scooted forwards onto his lap, looking in his eyes. his watery, doe eyes. he was so beautiful, even when he was covered in blood. " I like how protective you are. how jealous you get. I love it, actually. I love all of it." you said, cupping his face. your thumb slipped the mis of tears and blood away, giving him a soft smile. "really? oh mommy thats such good news." he smiled, pulling you into a hug. you giggled and hugged him back, biting your bottom lip.

of course your main goal was to calm him down, but your second goal was to get him to fuck you. you couldn't stop the throbbing feeling from between your thighs. as he told you how much he loved you into your chest, not even thinking about fucking you, you began to grind yourself slowly, subtly on his thighs. and at first he simply thought you were re adjusting yourself. but when tiny little moans began to come from you, and your hips moved just a bit faster, he quickly caught onto what you were doing. he smiled into your chest, biting the shirt you had on.

" mommy.." he cooed, hand finding your ass. he gripped it, dragging your hips faster. " are you horny right now?" he asked, looking up at you from your shirt. you were embarrassed. I mean he just killed a man and here you were trying to get off. but you couldnt stop the 'yes' that came out of you. he smiled and leaned back onto the patio door, the blood on him only adding to the sensation you felt.

his thigh began to gently bounce below you, his eyes going from innocent to dark in a matter of seconds. he watched as your hips moved faster on his thigh, watching your body lean forward. your mouth fell ajar, the prettiest of whimpers coming from you as you moved yourself perfectly on his thigh, giving your clit the right amount of attention. " mommy likes seeing her baby boy kill for her isn't that right?" he whispered, his free hand working up your shirt. you felt the cold blood on his hands as he gripped your breast, his fingers quick to roll your nipple in between his fingers.

you nodded, looking down to see his thigh bounce faster, but not too fast. just enough to get you to the edge. " well your baby boy would kill for you any time mommy." he said, guiding your hips faster to match the pace of his thigh. he leaned in, his other hand still working on your nipple. " id kill a hundred men for you, just to keep you in this house. keep you here for me mommy. only me." your head fell into his neck, covering your forehead in blood. the knot in your stomach was slowly coming loose and he knew it just by the sounds of those pretty little whined you let slip from out of you.

"come on mommy let it go.. cum for me. cum for your good boy." he begged, a whine coming from him. the tent in his pants only made it harder for you to hold back your orgasm and before you knew it, your body tensed up, sinful sounds escaping your lips. he moaned at the wet spot that formed on his thigh, bleeding (hehe) through his thin sweatpants. you clothed onto him, feeling your whole body shake as you came down, his thigh slowing down to help yo pride out your high. when you pulled away, he groaned at the blood that was dripping down your face.

" ride me mommy, come on." he said, his hands moving quickly to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. you fell off his lap, but quickly went back to your place. the night shorts you had on, he slid to the side, exposing your wet, dripping cunt. he whined at the sight, bitting his bottom him. " well come on mommy its your dick. ride it." he said, looking up at you. you wasted little time in positioning yourself over his tip, sliding down. you wanted to go slow, get yourself used to the feeling again, but Konig had other plans.

his hands gripped your hips and shoved you down, his head thrown back against the glass, a pained whimper leaving your lips. he raised your hips, looking down at the small amount of blood on his dick. your blood. he moaned at the sight before slamming you back down. your hands gripped his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut. he gave you no time to adjust to him, but that was also something that turned you on. "come on mommy ride it. show me how much of a good boy I was for killing him." he whined, slapping your face gently to open your eyes.

your hips began to move up and down, slowly at first. you gasped as his size continued to stretch your cunt out, slowly picking up the pace afterwards. his hands gripped onto your hips harder, a whimper leaving his lips every time you went back down on him. his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth left open slightly. you looked at him and as badly as you wanted to kiss him, you didnt want the blood in your mouth. " oh mommy your..doing so fucking good~ please tell me im a good boy" he whined, looking down at you as you bounced up and down, up and down.

" y-yours such a good..good boy baby. such a good boy" you cooed, adjusting yourself so you now were in a squatting position, feet pressed flat to the ground. he moaned as your praised him, the switch in position making his hips buck up. your own head fell back as you felt him reach your cervix, but your hips never stopping. " your my mommy.. all fucking mine." he growled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. his hips thrusted up into you, fast and deep. his balls slapped right at the bottom of your arse, adding to the already sloppy sounds of his dick moving in and out your cunt.

your hands pressed onto the patio door, your mouth left wide open. both of you let out moans and whimpers with each thrust of his hips, not only the feeling of love but the feeling of possessiveness floating in the air. " fuck your so tight mommy, love fucking your cunt. only I can right? only y-your baby..boy can?" he asked, gripping your tighter. you nodded quickly, trying your hardest to get words out but they never came. he slid out and pushed you off him, making your body fall back. he dragged you back to him by your ankles, hovering over your body. he gripped his base and slammed it right back into where it belonged, hips jutting into yours all over.

his hands gripped your calves, pulling your legs over his shoulders. your back arched off the cold floor, hands gripping the coffee table right behind you. " all m-mine.. " he whimpered, his head dropping into your chest, your body folding forward more. " im yours b-baby.. forever." you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he picked his head up, looking down at you. he loved seeing you react to him fucking you, loved seeing the way your wet lips were parted, the blood on your face dripping down to your neck. " gonna make you fucking pregnant mommy. gonna be mine- fuck - forever. you understand?" he moaned, his hand finding your throat and gripping it.

you nodded, choking out a 'yes'. his looked down, watching your cunt form bubbled of your slick around his dick, the squelching sounds growing louder as his pace picked up. " fuck mommy~ this pussy is s-so good" he whined, his eyes crossing as he felt his orgasm reaching him. your hands gripped onto the table harder, mouth falling ajar. his thrusts began to jerk your own body forward, legs still around his shoulders. the knot that you felt moments ago was back, and it was coming fast.

" keep going Konig p-please.. im gonna c-cum!" you whimpered, looking down at where his dick slammed into yours. your own juices were running down your arse, coating the inside of your thighs. " im n-not gonna stop mommy I promise.. please cum" he moaned, his head dropping back into your chest, the hand the was on your throat quickly began to pull your boob out from under your shirt, his lips finding the nipple. his tongue ran circles over the nipple, bitting it and occasionally pulling at it.

the only words that came from your lips at this moment was 'Konig'. the only words coming from him were 'mommy'. you began to pulse around his dick, his thrusts becoming sloppy too. " hold it mommy.. gonna c-cum together so fucking hold it." he whined, going right back to sucking on your nipple. you clenched around him trying to hold back your orgasm. but the way he was ramming into your g spot, hitting your cervix so painfully well. it was hard. and it didnt help that his cute little whimpers were going more frequent.

however, he raised his head, looking down at you with hooded eyes and wet lips. " cum mommy, please cum all over me." he begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy. you nodded quickly, releasing the grip from your cunt. he looked down as he watched your cum spurt out of you, covering his lower half and chest with it. that was enough to set him over the edge. " oh fuck- mommy~" he whined, giving you two final, hard thrusts before his cum shot deep into you. his hands found your hips, gripping onto them as his body shook. tears dropped from his eyes, small gasps to accompany them.

his body fell onto yours, still shaking from the powerful orgasm youth experienced. it was silent for a bit, the sound of heavy breathing filling the air, you felt his cum begin to seep out you and so did he. he raised himself slowly, looking back down to thrust his hips into yours. gently tho, he too was completely fucked out. " gotta keep.. my cum in you mommy." he breathed out, lazily thrusting his hips back int you.

when he pulled out he reached over to you, pulling you just enough so he could lift you into his arms. he kissed your cheek, and then slipped your boob into his mouth for a moment. releasing it with a pop, he looked up at you. " lets shower. then, we look for new places to live." he smiled. you giggled and nodded, resting your head into his bloody chest, replaying in your head what just happened.

to whoever requested this I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! I have no idea what the hell happened to your request I just opened Tumblr and the original post I was going to post was gone so I hope you find this <3

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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Bad Liar // katsuki bakugou

a/n: i got soooo carried away with this one lmfao no regrets though, i love bakubaby so bad and this is so self-ship coded no apologies :D this is probably my last piece before kinktober! i know i know boo hiss im sorry, im sorry, i'll probably still pepper in drabbles and headcanons just because :0

cw: suggestive, 16+ to read. bakugo is agressive as always, he has his own language lmao, possessiveness? friends to lovers, hiding it from the bakusquad!

wc: 2.9k

He can’t stand it. It was his stupid idea in the first place, but still, he finds himself knee deep in regret instead of ocean-water. And his friends make everything worse. Oh his stupid, stupid friends and their stupid gatherings and hang out sessions, just irritating him beyond belief. You weren’t included in this tirade, no. Never. You’ve never had a stupid idea in your life, other than agreeing to be his woman, he thinks now.

Denki and Mina would want to go to the beach. That’s so perfectly, stupidly, them. It’s the hottest day of the year, and Katsuki is miserable in so many ways it’s almost comical. Certainly he would laugh if it was happening to anyone but him. He’s already prone to hyperhidrosis due to his quirk nature, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping the matter. He looks like he’s been greased in baby oil or something slimy straight out of the sea. You on the other hand, look—he can’t look. You’ve been friends since your first year at UA, or as close to friends as one really can get with the explosive blond. You seemed not to mind his bristly nature, even when he got a little loud, you never flinched away from him or went out of your way to push his buttons like everyone else.

You were different. You invited him to read your favorite books and mangas with you, you introduced him to new video games and even offered to train together, something that anyone outside of Izuku ran away from. You were unafraid, he realized. He knows he makes it hard. He’s hateful and unforgiving, loud and brash. None of those are good qualities, he’s well aware, but you made him feel like they were. You laughed at his rude comments, only shaking your head or rolling your eyes playfully to disagree. When he got loud, you got louder, a tactic his mom first employed and something he hadn’t realized worked on him so well. No, you made those qualities feel endearing. It wasn’t long before he was inviting you to tag along with him too, teaching you how to make different dishes and even trying your hand at baking while he’s crouched over recipe books spouting the ingredients at you. He wants you to study with him, even if he hasn’t allowed anyone from the inner circle to join him willingly. He always invites you, and he never hides his casual requests for you to come back to his dorm for movies or the newest episode of your favorite anime. He’s completely smitten, clearly.

To everyone, really. It was obvious, even to you. Katsuki is nothing if not prideful, so you were certainly not going to burst his bubble, or allow any of the bakusquad to do so either. You knew he would work through his emotions and thoughts on his own, and he would come to you when he’s ready.

And yes, that took well into your adulthood. School was filled with tragedy after tragedy, you were happy to make it out of there with Katsuki, your friends, and your ability to become a hero still intact. The two of you worked for the same agency for the next couple of years straight out of high school, and that’s what helped him really understand just how different you are. You’re strong, the strongest woman he’s ever seen if he’s honest. Your abilities are insane, your motivation is inspiring, and your knowledge and instinct are only paralleled by his own. Perfect. You’re smart, beautiful, powerful, and so unique. He couldn’t stand it anymore, just watching from the sidelines as he tried to figure out why he was so enamored with you.

Turns out, jealousy is one hell of a motivator.

One day, when he was assigned a different route on patrol and you were sent off with a new male partner, it all made sense. He watched the guy put a hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to the elastic-wrapped mounds of your ass. His ass. He was fuming. The sidekick gave you an excited smile, championing himself lucky to be partnered with such a force–and beauty– as yourself. Katsuki saw it immediately, how the other sidekick was looking at you, it was painfully clear. He wasn’t worried, you would never give this extra your attention–hence how you throw the rando’s arm off of you and stomp away–what does piss him off though, is that other men cannot understand that you might as well walk around with his brand across your forehead. Was he not crystal clear? Even if he hadn’t known that you were unspeakably his, surely everyone else could tell? You two went everywhere together, never was one seen without the other, except for this fuckin’ dumbass patrol–and he was scary enough no one should even think about you in that way.

So he finishes his rounds as early as possible that day, making it back to HQ to meet up with you after your disdainfully different route. He’s pleased to see you alone, leaning up against a doorframe with your skin-tight hero suit still perfectly intact and clinging to your every curve. No drama, no danger, he smirks to himself in relief. The way you look back at him, though, that has his heart stopping in his chest. You look so at ease, your resting bitch face melting into a smile of succor. He can tell you’re just as relieved to see him, the way you jump from foot to foot in excitement tells him so. He can’t help but give you an arrogant half-smile, amused by and admiring your every move. The air is different, the space between the two of you spoke of something different than just friends. He throws his arm around your waist, and you can tell from the look on his face that he’s ready. His red siren gaze sparkles with a bit more intensity, his calloused fingers soothing circles into the curve of your side, even the smile playing at his lips says it all. You’re his now. He knows you know this, and you’re so good to him you won’t even make him say it, but it seemed that his little revelation was enough to change him in a way you didn’t suspect.

“Yer my lady now.” He says, no trace of annoyance, only a slight upturn to the corners of his lips.

“I know. Been your lady for a long ass time.” You chuckle, leaning your head over on his shoulder as you begin the walk home. You couldn’t wait to tell Mina–she would freak the fuck out that he finally made his move. Even more relieved would be poor Kirishima, the man on the receiving end of so many you-themed rants. Denki’s teasing may be endless–and Sero may be the only soul genuinely happy for everyone without making it a big deal. You know the last thing Katsuki wants is to make this a big deal. He was still working his way into emotional fluency, and you didn’t want them to stunt his progress–even though it was well intentioned.

It’s like he can read your mind, or more aptly the subtle knit of your brows and purse of your lips. He knows your brain is hard at work thinking, so he steers you home, his house of course. The weather was decent, cold like he likes. He lets you think, focusing on the sound of your boots crunching in the snow. “What’s going on in that fat head’a yours?”

You chuckle. “I was just thinking about how insufferable our friends are gonna be.” You say, icy fingers reaching for the solace you know awaits in his warm hands. He doesn’t fight you, cupping your hands in one of his. He furrows his brows, considering your sentence, yet his thumb still absentmindedly strokes your soft skin. He huffs after a time.

“We ain’t gotta tell ‘em. They’ll figure it out eventually anyway–let’s just enjoy bein’ us. Press’ll be stupid too.” He sighs out, not having considered the issues you two may face now, status and all. How annoying. He squeezes on your hands to convey his love.

You sigh. “God, so true. I didn’t think of that either.” You muse, smiling at the snowflakes collecting in Katsuki’s ashy hair and lashes while he stares at you. It can only ever be described as a stare, the intensity too much to be considered anything less. You slip your hands from his momentarily, and he frowns at the loss of you. He looks up and realizes you’re unlocking his door and sighing at the warmth that greets the two of you upon entering. Once the door swings shut, your hands find him again, though now you face him, and you dare to let your touch wander up his forearms and biceps before falling back down and reaching back up again. He enjoys the feeling, the soothing comfort of your strokes nearly causing him to sigh. He just hangs his arms around your waist instead, appreciating your beauty without fear now.

“S’ppose we’ll keep this ‘er lil secret then.” He drawls, gently pulling your body until it stops against his. You can feel his warm caramel-scented breath waft over your face, the heat in his eyes causing your own to rush to your cheeks. He smirks at that, cherishing every moment he can fluster you since it’s so typically the other way around.

You nod, unashamedly looking down at his lips. He doesn’t hide the sultry way in which he coats them, before letting them stretch into another, wider, predatory smirk. He forces your eyes back up to his with his two fingers under your chin.

“Sound good?” He asks with an arched brow. You nod again. He chuckles, one so deep it reverberates through his buff chest. He’s entertained, you’re absolutely falling apart just from standing so close to him now that all his feelings for you were confirmed. “Use your words and I’ll give ya a kiss.”

You force yourself to swallow, and then clear your throat, feeling frozen in place. He looks at you like you were the only person he could see. He looks at you with such insatiable desire, you’re rendered speechless just from a few touches and his carmine eyes dancing over your body. “Yeah–our secret.” You manage.

He nods his approval, sliding his hand to cup your cheek instead. His hand is so big his fingers reach over your jaw and into your soft, vanilla scented hair. He almost loses his confidence, your scent and the way you bat your eyelashes hitting him all at once. You always smell so sweet, even though you were actually spicy. He thought it fit you. You stand on your tiptoes to prompt him, your hands landing on his toned pecs. It brings him back to the present, and his heart actually flutters at what he was about to do. He swallows any nervousness and leans down, licking his lips a final time before he slots them over yours. You jolt him awake, the cool touch of your mouth sends warmth tingling through him, and you’re not doing much better. You feel like you’re melting as he pulls you closer desperately, unable to get enough of you.

And maybe, just maybe, that night ended with him becoming very acquainted with that beautiful body you proudly display today, at the beach, with all his friends, who still don’t know that you’re together.

That’s why he’s so impossibly frustrated, keeping his head turned and pretending to be entranced by the ocean waves. His friends are stupid, but they aren’t dumb. They’ve known for the longest that Katsuki’s head over heels for you, but upon your promise, they tried to give him less shit about it.

But Denki just can’t hold back this time. To think that he can’t see Katuski’s “sunburn”, the noticeable way he’ll look anywhere but you, and his overly sensitive nerves today is an insult to Chargebolt. He scoffs loudly.

“Hey Bakugou, you allergic to sexy?”

The blond’s head snaps to him and his eyes narrow in confusion. “What?!”

Denki chuckles smoothly. “You won’t even look at Y/N–and she is definitely sexy. That bikini is working overtime–”

“Say one more word about her.” He dares, sparks collecting in the palms of his hands. At the crackling sound, Kirishima decides it’s time to intervene. He holds his arms out like someone approaching a wild horse to saddle.

“Woah, woah–easy bro!” He chuckles nervously, but it gets Katsuki’s attention, at least enough that the threat of violence dies down. “I think what Denki’s trying to say is, normally you and Y/N are side-by-side. Is everything alright?”

Great. There was no way to win. If he looked at you, he’d surely pop a raging boner and that would confirm everything they’ve ever thought about him and his thoughts about you, but not looking at you resulted in their suspicion anyway. He huffs through his nose and scowls.

“Yeah? Just tryin’ not to be a perv like you two fuckers. Stop lookin’ at her–”

“Right. Okay.” Sero rolls his eyes at the longtime friend. “You know none of us give a fuck if you guys want to get together, right? In fact, we’re literally praying for it so you stop being so goddamn intolerable.”

“So you admit you have to fight looking?” Denki snickers. Katsuki eyes the two with the wrath of hell.

Kirishima gives him a defusing glare, sighing at his hot-tempered buddy. “I second Sero, but either way, we want you to have some fun, man. We know you can’t be having a good time sitting in the sand like this. Come play some volleyball with us!” He insists, dragging Katsuki to his feet.

Bakugo wrenches his way free of him, but follows nonetheless, scowling even deeper when Mina calls out, “Three on three! I want Bakugou and Denki!” She giggles, leaving you to team up across from him with Kirishima and Sero. He convinces himself that beating your ass in volleyball should keep your friends off your scent.

All goes well, for a while. That is until the rotation puts him directly across from you.

Denki was right. You are so sexy. And that bikini…how could you set him up like this? The fabric clings to your hips, disappearing into the folds of your dimpled and sand-covered ass. God, he shoulda never let you out of the house. His eyes finally move up toward your bust, almost laughably stuffed into your top. It’s so unfair. You’re ridiculously stunning, and he can’t help but think you did this on purpose. He can feel his blood rushing all at once, and he knows he must be staring hard. Before he can comprehend anything else, you’re running towards the net, beautiful body glistening in the sun, your sea-textured hair swaying in time with your chest as you jump and smack the ball right in his face.

Kirishima can’t stifle his laugh, and Denki nearly collapses in laughter beside the explosive man. Mina just puts her hands on her hips, trying to hide her knowing smirk.

Katsuki is prideful, arrogant, brash, unforgiving, loud, and hateful. You made sure to love and accept those qualities to an extent, and help him grow out of them in some others. One thing you’ll never be able to change is his competitive spirit–and you just took a cheap shot in his rulebook.

“That was a low blow. It doesn’t count!” He groans, swiping some of the kicked up sand from his tanned abs. He goes to pick up the ball when Sero challenges.

“How so? She just spiked it. That’s legal.”

And to his dismay, you play right into it. “Yeah, why’s it a low blow, Suki?”

Goddamn you. Batting your lashes and all. You’re challenging him too, daring him to keep lying or to come clean to all his friends. He snorts at you, clearly you underestimate who you’re dealing with. He’ll fuck you on the beach if you wanna push buttons–but he decides he’ll take a more moderate approach only because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you naked. You can’t back him into a corner without doing the same to yourself, so he just juts his chin at you.

“Because you wore that bikini just to piss me off ‘n make me tell our friends yer mine.” He growls, arching a brow and folding his arms over his chest. The friends in question are unusually quiet and deathly still, exchanging knowing and relieved looks.

You shrug, blushing a bit. He caught you, but it worked anyway. Only because he allowed it, but still. You hum your acknowledgement and motion for the ball back.

“You got me, baby. That counts as a point though. Ball’s mine.” You wink, that smug grin of yours enough to make his heart pound like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. You’re most definitely somethin’ else, but he loves you to pieces, and he feels a lot better about being able to be just as pervy out loud as he wants to be.

He slings the ball back over the net, mirroring your smirk. Once again, he’ll never let you best him. His eyes shine with mischief as he winks and says for your embarrassment, “Oh yer still goin’ down, sugartits.”

#kyleewritesmha #last piece before kinktober works omg #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou drabble #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #mha x you

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