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barefoot-joker · 1 year ago

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Put a Ring on It~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to another Yandere!Lucifer fanfiction. I went a bit of a different route than I normally do, so bear with me. As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2438

Warnings: Kidnapping, Unorthodox way of getting a partner

I hummed as I walked about the antique store, dusting some of the cases. Today was a bit of a slower day so I tried to find things to occupy my time with. I had already swept, cleaned the windows and moved some items around so dusting everything was my next option. My coworker Jessica meanwhile sat behind the counter polishing some of the glassware our store had to offer. “And so then he got down on one knee and proposed to her in front of the whole restaurant! Can you believe it?”

“And you and your boyfriend were just sitting there and watching?”

“Yeah. It was so romantic, Y/n!”

“It sounds like it was. Were you dropping hints to your man at that moment?”

“Well of course! We’ve been together for six years for crying out loud!”

I chuckled and began dusting one of the jewelry cases. “So how about you, Y/n? Anybody in your life?”

“No, unfortunately. Love isn’t really up my alley right now.”

“I get it.”

Ding! The bell above our front door went off.

Jessica and I both turned our heads towards the door to see an older woman standing there. She was in a red floor length dress and had a grayish brown fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked on the wealthier side not only because of her clothes but because of all the jewelry she had on. Rings decorated each of her fingers and pearl and gold necklaces draped around her front. She looked around and then spotted us. “Excuse me. Is Sarah in?”

“No, the owner isn’t in, unfortunately. What can we do for you,” Jessica replied.

The woman walked over and set a dark red velvet bag on the glass case. Opening it, she pulled out a gorgeous gold ring that looked like a snake wrapped around a medium sized ruby. The cut of the gem made it appear like an apple. “I was looking to sell this piece of jewelry. I no longer need it in my collection.”

The woman kept glancing around the store, almost like she was paranoid someone was following her. “It’s very beautiful, ma’am. How much were you looking to get?”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s your best offer, sweetie?”

Now that surprised me. I would have thought the woman would have asked for quite the chunk of change considering her appearance, but hey, this job still surprises me sometimes. “We’ll have to look at it and check out if it’s real gold or not. Plus we’ll need to check the karat of ruby you got.”

“You know what, nevermind. Just keep it, sell it, I don’t care!”

Suddenly the woman bolted out of the store despite Jessica and my protests. The slam of the door shook us out of our shock. “What was her problem? It would have only taken us a minute or two to evaluate the ring.”

“I think she had a lot more going on then we could have helped her with, Y/n.”

I hummed. Jessica picked up the ring and twirled it in her fingers. “It is quite the beautiful piece. The old gal could have probably gotten $200 for it. Oh well. You better clean it up and put it in the case. I’ll be on my lunch break.”

“You got it.”

Jessica stood from her perch and went into the back room as I placed the duster back in its proper place. Grabbing some jewelry cleaner and a rag, I picked up the ring and began to clean it. As I rubbed it down and made it shiny the more I felt drawn to it. It was almost like a small voice in my head was telling me to try it on. Eh, it couldn’t hurt could it?

Slipping it onto my ring finger, I admired it by the sunlight coming through the front window. It was quite the stunning piece with the ruby becoming slightly transparent and the gold of the snake shining. “Okay, that’s enough.”

I went to pull off the ring but surprisingly it wouldn’t give. Confused, I pulled again, only to grit my teeth when the ring felt like it tightened. “What gives?”

I pulled at it once more but pulled back when it felt like a fire from Hell grazed my fingertips. “Ow!”

I sighed and stared at the ring, the snake seemingly winking at me. “You’re coming off whether you like it or not.”

Heading into the bathroom, I splashed my hands with hot water before grabbing some soap. Scrubbing my ring finger, I pulled and pulled at the stupid piece of jewelry but it would not come off. I kept at it until my finger was bright red from how hard I was pulling. “Y/n, are you okay?”

I turned to see Jessica behind me, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I’m fine. It's just this ring won’t come off!”

I showed her my hand and the brunette tutted. “It looks like it’s jammed on there real good. I see you tried soap and water but to no avail. Have you tried oil yet?”

“No.”

“Well I seem to remember there was some vegetable oil in the break room if you want to try that. What made you try it on anyway?”

“I figured since we try jewelry on all the time it wouldn’t hurt. I guess I was mistaken this time around.”

“Just go try the oil and I’ll Google if there’s anything else we can do.”

“Okay.”

I dried my hands on the towel and then made my way to the break room. I opened all of the cupboards until I found the bottle of vegetable oil. Opening the cap, I splashed some onto the ring and around the finger before I began to rub. I did this for a few minutes and then attempted to pull again. Once again the snake tightened and it felt hot to the touch. I growled in frustration and pulled a few more times. Getting nowhere, I put the container of oil back and slammed the cupboard shut. I went over to the sink and rinsed off the excess oil before returning to Jessica in the main room. “Did you find anything useful?”

“No, but listen to this. I just did a general search on the ring and found an interesting article. Apparently a ring just like yours was said to have been crafted back in the Renaissance. A rich man was trying to court a young woman but she would have nothing to do with him. Summoning the Devil, the man and Lucifer made a deal that at the next masquerade ball the man would have the young woman. The Devil then crafted a ring and said that is what the man will propose with. If the woman denied his affections then she would become Lucifer’s. At the ball the woman denied the man’s affections and right then and there, the horned demon took her. It is said that whoever puts the ring on next will belong to Satan himself.”

“And where was this article found?”

“Somebody posted it on Reddit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop trying to scare me with fairy tales. I’m already anxious that the stupid thing won’t come off.”

“Yeah, but can you imagine Y/n? You might now be the Devil’s next wife!”

We looked at each other deeply before we both burst into a fit of giggles. “OMG as if that article is true, am I right?”

I laughed. There was no way it could be true…right?

Jessica came up to me and spun me around in a twirl. “We’d better look for your wedding gown while we’re here. We wouldn’t want Lucifer to be disappointed would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

We giggled as we ran around the store finding all the pieces to make me the perfect bride. When we finished, we stood by the full length mirror. I held the white gown up to my chest and Jessica draped a veil over the top of my head. “Look at you! I’d say Lucifer is one lucky man!”

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so! So you couldn’t catch a human’s romantic affections but hey you got the Big Boss of Hell on your side!”

I set the dress down and the two of us began to dance. Jessica hummed a tune as we waltzed through the store, laughing the whole time. “Okay, okay. We’d better get back to work.”

I pulled the veil off and picked the dress back up. Returning them to their spots, Jessica and I continued our work day.

Later that night, Jessica and I were finishing locking up. The brunette clicked the door shut and turned the key. Pulling out the key, she turned to me. “I hope you have a good night, Y/n. And if the Devil does end up marrying you, don’t forget to send me an invite.”

“Will do. Have a good night, Jessica.”

The two of us waved at each other before heading off in opposite directions. The night was slightly busy as several cars drove on the road and people were out and about. As I was walking down a quieter street, I heard a slight humming. Curious, I looked around and couldn’t find anything that created the noise. I ignored and kept walking. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see bright golden specks fly up around me. Probably just fireflies.

Suddenly I couldn’t feel the ground below me and I was free falling. I screamed and quickly closed my eyes, my limbs sort of flying about. Just as sudden as I started falling, I stopped. The air in my lungs flew out as I sat on the hard ground and slowly but surely I opened my eyes. I gasped as my surroundings were completely different. I appeared to be in a hallway, red and light red striped wallpaper with white filigree decorated the walls, golden lights hung from the walls, and a red carpet lay atop the dark reddish floorboards. “There you are!”

My head snapped in front of me and my eyes widened. A small demon with a pointed tail and suit stood in front of me, his yellow eyes staring me down. “We’ve been wondering when you’d arrive, Miss. Please, come with me.”

I stood and backed away from the creature. “W-where am I? How’d I get here? Who are you?”

“All questions will be answered in due time, my lady. However, we need to get you ready. His Majesty will be here very soon and he’s expecting to see you.”

The demon grabbed onto my hand and led me down the corridor to a room on the right. We appeared to be in a walk-in closet of sorts as there were clothes hanging everywhere and a variety of dressers. The butler let go of my hand and had me sit at a vanity. The lights around the mirror were very bright so I found myself squinting. I watched as the little demon went to a couple of the different dressers, pulling out various things. He came to me a few moments later and stood behind me. Taking my hair in his claws, he petted it a few times before putting in a golden snake barrette. He repeated this action on the other side of my head. He then went to my neck and clicked a pearl necklace into place. Smoothing out the shirt I had on, the demon glanced over me before deciding I was fit enough. Grabbing my hand once more, the two of us walked down the hall and to a grand staircase. Going down to the first floor, he led me to a large room with two black thrones. The red eyes on the chairs stared me down as suddenly a poof of red smoke made a man sit on the left seat. He was on the shorter side and wore all white with a splash of red here and there. Our eyes locked onto each other and a big grin made its way to his lips. “Ah, darling! I’ve been waiting for you!”

The demon butler pushed me forwards and bowed. “Your Majesty. Will there be anything else you need?”

“No, but thank you, Dorian. Let us be.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

The little guy walked out of the room and with a click of the door, my heart began to pound loudly. I turned back to the blonde man and he motioned me forward. I gulped and went up the three steps to be near him. “I’ve been so excited to see you, my dear! Looking at you through a magic ball doesn’t do you justice.”

I could feel skin heat up at his comment. “Um, w-who are you?”

“How rude of me! Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell and your soon to be husband.”

I choked on my spit as he wiggled his eyebrows. “W-what?!”

“Oh did you not listen to your friend’s little story? We are to be wed, my dear.”

“I thought it was just some-”

“Fairy tale? Not at all! You slipped on my ring and are therefore mine. Oh, Dorian made you look so cute!”

I couldn’t believe it. Jessica’s story she read was real and I was going to be the Devil’s wife. Lucifer patted the throne next to him and I sat, still in shock. “Oh we’ve got so much to plan, sweetie! After all if we’re to be married next month-”

“Next month?! Are you crazy? I don’t even know you nor do I want to be in this situation!”

“It won’t be that bad, Y/n. We can get to know each other even after the wedding. Many couples get married and find love with each other after.”

“Look, I don’t want this. So you can just take your ring back and let me go home.”

I stood up and made my way down the stairs when suddenly I was flown back into Lucifer. He held me on his lap and nuzzled into me. “Ah, ah, ah! I can’t take the ring off even if I wanted to. It’s bound us together, you and I. Besides, you’re too cute to pass up.”

He booped my nose and I wanted to die right then and there. “I promise we’ll be happy together. I’m a very attentive lover and I can give you whatever you want. I am the Devil after all.”

He gave my cheek a kiss and all I could think of was Lord get me out of here.

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nekohime19 · 7 months ago

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Heart behind the lie # 62 : the Sunfires

Wukong and the team meet the Sunfires leader while Mac and Xiaobo meet some scavengers.

Xiaobo is now sure that Mac is insane.

The city's manor was clad in dark. It stood above all the other buildings. Drowning its vicinity in shadows. The city's flag was hung on the highest tower, it was pushed by the desert’s squalls, flaring like phoenixes’ wings. The guards escorting them stopped before an iron fence, they gestured towards Mei and Red Son, as if showing off important guests.

“Those are esteemed fire users.” Huffed one of the guards escorting them. The soldiers guarding the fence flinched, they immediately allowed them to pass. None deigned to look at the rest of the team, as if they were of no importance, as if they were mere shadows following after the fire users.

Sock, who was huddled under Wukong's teal veil, meowed disapprovingly. Wukong scratched under her chin. “I agree, they're not to be trusted.” Hummed the great sage. The manor was made of riches. They dived deeper in the serpentine corridors, walking on the blood-red carpets. The walls were filled with different paintings, all depicting the various leaders of the city's clan across time, or at least Wukong supposed so. The people depicted on the paintings hung on the left wall were all clad in gold, they had more or less the same eyes, two small creaks ignited by dirty brown pupils. They were most likely from the same bloodline. Leadership within a clan was often passed along by blood, so it wasn't uncommon. However, the people depicted on the painting hung on the right were vastly different, they had a softer look and long, smooth hair cascading on their shoulders. They were also clad in riches and proudly claimed the city’s sigil… Perhaps, this clan had a dual-leadership? It was less common but not unheard of.

The guards escorted them to a lavish living room. They bowed and left with promises of fetching their leader, the great noted the singular used, so only one leader after all. Wukong eyed the two sofas facing each other, the only places where one could sit, it was fit for only four people.

“What's up with this place and fire users?” Groaned Mei as she sat on one of the sofas.

“Elitism based on magic is more frequent than we often think.” Hummed Red Son. As the son of a prominent clan, perhaps he had his fair share of encounters such as these. People always found a way to feel superior, it wasn't new.

“That's why you two will do the talking.” Intervened Wukong as he put one hand on his hips and looked at the two fire users.

“Why's that?” Asked his student with a tilted head.

“Clearly, they're not even considering the rest of us. They're not even enough seats here for all of us and I even bet the other sofa is for the coming leader.” Pointed out Wukong as he nodded towards the two sofas.

“Great. That's a great start.” Huffed Pigsy as he crossed his arms.

“My fists can do the talking.” Chuckled Mei, visibly still upset about the previous interrogation. Just what kind of things did her interrogator say about Macaque to make her this mad? Not that Wukong was arguing. If anyone was talking crap about his moon he'd gladly beat them up.

“I think we can all agree here that I will do the talking.” Corrected Red Son as he lowered Mei's fist.

“You're no fun.” Huffed the dragon girl.

Wukong wandered round the room, everything was made with utmost precision, even the furnitures looked like art pieces. The city's sigil was carved almost everywhere, with imagery of flames. Wukong snorted. Those people really liked showing off. He noticed incense burning in one corner of the room, so little that it was barely tainting the ambient air. Sock meowed, not liking the smell. “Yeah, it's suspicious. This type of incense is normally for funerals.” Hummed Wukong as he kissed his cat's fluffy head. He stopped his investigation when he heard people coming closer, he returned close to the others and stood behind the sofas.

Two figures entered, accompanied by a flurry of guards that stood close to the only exit. They were cladded in velvet cloth that glimmered under the sunlight. One was a tall woman, built like a mountain and adorned with a wolf mask. The other was a thin man, his steps lighter and adorned with a fox mask. The woman leisurely sat on the empty sofa, the man hurried after her and sat at her side. They both had the same eyes. Thin creaks ignited by dirty brown pupils. They were most likely related.

“We apologize for our lack of manners. Our manor is overwhelmed with the recent loss of our clan leader.” Hummed the woman, her voice as loud as thunder. Wukong raised an eyebrow. The leader was dead? Yet none was wearing funeral attires and the incense was so small it didn't even matter. Clearly, the previous leader wasn't well-loved.

“So were you the leader's heir?” Asked Red Son.

“Oh no, the Sunfires had a dual-leadership for decades, I am the other leader. You can call me Fang, and this is my son, Jaw-long.” The fox masked man quietly nodded at them. Wukong frowned. So he was right when he supposed this clan had a dual-leadership. “I was told you two were esteemed fire users? Some soldiers told me you arrived here with a shadow user, it is fortunate that you separated before he could bring troubles to you.”

Mei was about to jump on her feet but Red Son stopped her, he pressed on her shoulder and kept her seated. “I am Red Son of the Bulls, this Mei of the Dragons, we are searching for someone called the Jeweler, do you know where this person is?”

Fang remained stoic, not betraying one hint of her inner feelings. Her son, however, flinched at the mention of the Jeweler, but he caught himself before he could reveal further. “I don't think I ever heard of this… Jeweler of yours.”

“That is unfortunate.” Replied Red Son.

“Why don't you both and your… friends stay a bit longer. My son's wedding is coming soon, it'll be a delight to have esteemed fire users like yourselves here.” Hummed Fang as she crossed her legs.

“Wedding?” Replied Red Son.

“Indeed! I am getting married to Lady Wan, the most beautiful woman on ea-” His mother cut him with a sharp glare. Jaw-long stopped talking and remained quiet. But obsession was still burning brightly in his gaze.

Fang cleared her throat, she rose and dusted herself off. “Unfortunately we still have much to do, the soldiers will accompany you to a guest room.” She didn't even wait for their answers and left, her son hurried after her shadows.

The soldiers escorted them to another room, it was in a quiet corner of the manor, cut off from the rest. Once again, there were only two beds inside.

“Their blatant discrimination is getting tiring.” Sighed Tang as he crossed his arms. Wukong couldn't agree more. The soldiers were still outside, surveilling them. They couldn't wander around as they pleased.

“So now what?” Asked MK as he tested the beds' bounciness.

“They're obviously hiding something.” Replied Pigsy.

“I guess we have to wait and see for now.” Proposed Sandy. Wukong was about to refute him, he could transform into a butterfly and snoop around the manor. But he was cut by something rattling under their feet. One of the floorboards was moved to the side, revealing a passage underneath. A head full of curls popped out from the revealed hidden passage.

“Lady Wan invites you all to go see her.” Informed the curly-head, the team looked at each other with surprise, they didn't expect that. They were still a bit hesitant. Following an unknown servant to God’s know where wasn't very wise. “If that can help you decide, Lady Wan has many names, but I believe people outside the desert call her the Jeweler.” Informed the servant.

Oh well, that changed a number of things.

***

Macaque sighed, he tugged his scarf higher, hiding his face. The sun's glare was particularly intense. It roasted him even when he wasn't exposing himself. He could feel his skin darkening even though it was hidden under layers of veils. Xiaobo was faring better than him. Perhaps because they were already used to the desert, they didn't seem to mind the heat as much as Macaque. They moved faster too. Macaque wondered if he shouldn't have taken all his weapons, they added weight to him and he wasn't used to it. As he thought this, Macaque heard something moving a few meters forward, he grabbed the lamb's collar and tugged them back.

“Can I ask what's the fuck you're doing?” Asked Xiaobo, Macaque was holding them up by the collar, like a mother does with her kittens. The warrior coughed to hide his laughter.

“Someone's ahead.” Whispered Macaque. He released the lamb and they slowly crawled forward, peeking from above the dune. A group of people were down there, all cladded in dirty scarfs, they were searching corpses frozen by the desert ruthless night.

“Scavengers.” Hummed Xiaobo. “We should avoid them-” the lamb cut themselves when they saw Macaque pulling out his bow. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the first shot.” Hummed Macaque as he pulled on the string, a shadow arrow formed itself.

“I just told you not to!?” Gasped Xiaobo, why was this monkey so battle-crazy!

“They're gonna see us anyway and we can't go back to the bashes’ territory. Besides, they have water and we're gonna run out of water soon.” Hummed Macaque, he squinted, his eyes raking over the group of his scavengers. His breath slowed, his vision shrinked until it was focused on one particular spot. The arrow was light, almost ethereal, under the pads of his fingers. The string was pulled to the maximum. Macaque breathed in and let go of the arrow. It flew out of his grasp, grazing his cheek, and ran towards the group of scavengers. It passed through any obstacles, like a ghost, before tearing up their bag.

The group’s food and drinks stumbled on the ground. They looked around, panicked.

‘One of them got a gun!’ The voice echoed in Macaque's head, it sounded like his own voice. Macaque shuddered, he immediately shot another arrow, preventing the group from using their gun. The one who was holding the gun cried in pain, a bright red gash was on his palm.

The scavengers looked around but they couldn't locate the threat, they all began to run away, leaving their teared up bag behind. Macaque waited until he was sure the group was far away. Then he hopped off the dune, slided on the steep and leisurely picked up the abandoned bag.

“You see?” Hummed Macaque. Xiaobo followed after him and rolled their eyes.

“Show off.” They said. “You could have asked them for water.”

“You really think they would have shared?” Snorted Macaque, he wasn't naive enough to think scavengers of all people would have kindly shared their drinks. Besides they had multiple bags of supplies, it didn't truly matter if they lost one now.

They settled a few meters away, not wanting to be near the desert’s corpses. Night would fall soon. It wasn't wise to walk at night. Especially within the thick darkness. Xiaobo lit up a fire and prepared their food, Macaque drank some of the water he managed to win from the scavengers, he was quite satisfied. He removed all his heavy weapons and placed them near, his eyes lingered on the bow and he bit his lips.

“Can I ask you something?” Sighed Macaque, eyes still glued on the liu'si.

“Since when do you ask permission?” Huffed Xiaobo as they grilled some of the meat they found in the scavenger abandoned bag. It already smelled better than snake's meat. Macaque snorted. Fair.

“This is gonna make me sound insane…” Chuckled the warrior. Xiaobo looked up from the fire and threw a deadpan gaze at the black-furred monkey.

“Because you thought you were acting sane until now?” Macaque scratched his neck and shrugged, he didn't act this rash, did he ? “Really ? Rushing into a fight with a bashe? Provoking a group of scavengers that were, mind you, way fucking larger than us? This is not sane behavior.”

“Ah, come on, kid.” Sighed Macaque.

“Nah, nah, don't ‘come on’ me. It won’t work. Just shoot your question.” Xiaobo waved their hand around, they didn't have time to play nice. Macaque pursued his lips, but eventually spilled the beans.

“Do you think weapons can talk?”

“What?”

“I said, do you-”

“No, I heard you.” Sighed Xiaobo, they pinched the bridge of their nose. “I'm just trying to understand what is going on right now.”

“I know this sounds crazy. But it's not. Let me explain.” Hummed Macaque, he tried to not look too deranged, apparently he kind of butched his impression in Xiaobo's eyes already, no need to worsen his image even further. “I've been hearing voices for some time…”

“You are aware that this is not a good start to convince me you're not insane, right?” Groaned Xiaobo as they crossed their arms.

“I just… My weapons are made with parts of my soul, it's kinda complicated.” Huffed Macaque, the whole situation was a mess to be honest. He didn't know much about soul weapons but it didn't seem impossible for them to start developing some kind of consciousness considering they were made with fragments of soul.

“This sounds really freaky.” Shuddered Xiaobo, they sighed when they saw Macaque's somewhat distressed expression. “Look, maybe your weapons are really talking or maybe it's the desert’s heat. I don't know. Maybe my aunt could answer that, she knows a thing or two about souls.”

Macaque sighed and raked his hair with his hand. “Yeah, yeah, you're right.”

“Here, the meal is ready.” Xiaobo handed him a piece of grilled meat. Macaque gladly took it. It tasted way better than any meals they had until now. “But please don't start talking to your weapons in front of me, I don't need more mind fuckery.”

Macaque snorted. “I'll try kiddo.”

Ch1 / Previous / Next

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach fanfic #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #heart behind the lie

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starryybrained · 11 months ago

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Idk what your art says about you but you feel like one of the people who started using the pencil brush really early and have barely if ever used anything other than it for line work

That’s so funny because early on when I was making digital art I actually almost exclusively only used clean/smooth linework

I think it wasn’t until I bought procreate that I finally started experimenting with more textured brushes

And even then in the beginning I still stuck to nontextured brushes for a while until I decided to mix it up and try out different brushes

Nowadays I go absolutely bonkers over textured brushes and yes, that pencil/sketch brush you usually see me using is indeed one of my favorites. I often use it for lineart because I like the way it handles when I use it. Strangely enough, that brush comes from a random free brushpack I downloaded

[IMAGE ID: A screenshot of a brush set on Procreate titled “Anime” (The title is not shown within the screenshot). The first brush is called “Sketch Brush💕1” and is circled in red. Written next to it is a note saying “I love this stupid brush <3”. /END ID.]

Right now I usually either use the sketch brush for lineart or a felt marker-like brush interchangeably, for a request I got I’m actually using this brush… which is from another free brushpack, simply called “Texture.”

[IMAGE ID: A screenshot of a procreate canvas showing how the brush handles. There is a large, thick squiggly line on the left and several smaller, thin lines next to it. The thick brushstroke shows more of the brush’s soft edges, while the thinner brushstrokes look more sharp and less fuzzy. Both have a taper to the end on both sides of the brushstroke. There is a doodle of the cat face emoticon using thick lines and a doodle beneath it of my character Saul, using medium lines. All the brushstrokes are blue. /END ID.]

For coloring, I usually use a brush that doesn’t screw with the bucket tool to fill things in and then for shading and details I go crazy and do whatever feels right

This turned into a whole ramble haha

(Old art under the cut. Now you too can see just how my art looked wayyyy back when)

September 2020

[IMAGE ID: A drawing of an anthropomorphic lion. It is brown and has a golden mane. It is standing and waving. It has golden jewelry and red, orange, and yellow tattoos on its tail. The linework is smooth and the colors used are shown on the side. /END ID.]

October 2020

[IMAGE ID: A drawing of a humanoid/anthropomorphic vampire squid. It is a reddish/brown color and has light green accents. Its arms are tentacles and its hair is chin-length, webbed and fin-like. A less detailed doodle next to it shows that its tentacles do not have fingers. Another doodle of it, in a smaller chibi version, shows it floating with a tiny shadow beneath it, with the note “Floats above ground”. The linework is smooth. /END ID.]

January 2021

[IMAGE ID: A drawing of a humanoid demon with orange skin and orange hair. It has a dark brown tail, a long tongue, dark brown horns, pointed ears, and a third eye that is yellow. It wears a cloth around its waist and wears lots of jewelry, holding more jewelry and valuable items in its hands. The linework is smooth. /END ID.]

July 2021

IMAGE ID: A drawing of Arthur Kingsmen from Mystery Skulls Animated. He is drawn from the side view and is looking at his hand, which is glowing, bloody, and green. There is also blood coming from his shoulder. His eyes are glowing and he is smiling. The linework is smooth and in the corner, there’s a watermark that says “3lec_tric”. /END ID.]

#elec rambles #asks #answered #answered asks #den-of-evil #described #i described the screenshot of procreate and then i was like hmm might as well describe my old art then too

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robexp03 · 7 months ago

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Horse Whispers - Chapter 8

They locked me in my room while they worked on my tack. My tack. I had used those very words before when what I really meant was the tack I owned for Traveler. I chuckled a little, wondering if Traveler saw it that way. Before they left, Jerrod apologized for the spartan contents of my room.

“I’m afraid its going to be boring big fella” he said as he scritched between my ears. Oh Prairie Skies above, but that felt good! He suddenly withdrew his hand, and reeked of embarrassment. I looked at him in surprise.

“What’s wrong Jerrod?” I asked baffled.

He acridly burned red faced, but he looked me right in mine and said “I’m treating you like some kind of pet! Like some big beautiful animal! I’ve been a horseman all my life Cody” I felt a delicious shiver. “And old habits are hard to break” he apologized. “I can’t help doing things to you that I know please me and Sargent both. He’s my beautiful bay arabian. He just loves that kind of attention” he smiled with pleasant memories.

“Old habits? Such as?” I questioned.

“Such as scratching your ears,” he said loudly. “And calling you fella and buddy, and I can hardly keep my fingers out of your…. umm…. mane” he wound down quietly. I took him by the shoulders and snuffled in his hair dreamily, and hugged him to me.

“Thanks ‘little fella’ “ I grinned. “It is true that part of me feels very odd, even a little repulsed at being treated like an animal” I finger quoted. “But another part of me revels in exactly what you are doing. In fact, every time you speak my name little electric thrills shiver through me. I’m a horseman too my friend, and I recognize all these feelings as true to the species and its” I grinned at him again “an ancient and symbiotic relationship with humans. You, Jerrod Personal Trainer what-ever-that-means, have done... are doing me a great service.” I looked at him earnestly. “I don’t think I could have survived all this without you here. Your voice alone has a profound effect on me.” I sighed deeply and hugged him to my chest as I said “I don’t understand it, but it is true regardless. Perhaps beyond understanding in fact.”

While they were busy I took inventory before the mirror. About the only significant difference I could see was that my entire body, face and all, were getting furry. It looked like my markings were settling in. Still athletic and slim, at least for a horse, I was still built for the sprint. The thin skin covering my sharply defined muscles was almost translucent, sliding smoothly over every fiber and tendon beneath, but for my covering of soft rich chocolate brown fur ending in creamy beige from my elbows to hands and knees to heels. At my heels, the fur was actually quite long, and smiling broadly, I realized that I was going to have very shaggy fetlocks, a feature that I love on my horses. My hands looked perfectly pink and human. In fact, my new fur seemed to stop at my wrists, leaving the impression I was wearing a fuzzy sweater. My genitals seemed outsized to me, so I assumed my final structure would be somewhat larger to catch up. But perhaps they were just especially noticeable since my sheath and ample sac were also covered in creamy beige fur, in sharp contrast to my warm dark abs. The mane that Jerrod seemed to love so much was a light tawny blonde, and it ran from the bottom of my spine, up my back in a strip about one inch wide. I widened out a bit between my ears, which had stopped migrating at the upper back of my skull. There was a great shock of long forelock, which hung into my face and tried to cover my left eye all the time. And between my eyes there was a small but beautiful snow-white whorl in the shape of a 4-pointed star! And then there was my tail. Right now it looked more like a dirty bottlebrush, but the hair was definitely getting longer. I thought that maybe in a month it would look really good! Um…I meant it would look acceptable as a… I mean, oh hell, it would really cover my asshole beautifully! I almost laughed out loud at that thought. I was beginning to think of myself as a horse. Who ever heard of a horse needing its asshole covered with clothes. But then, who ever heard of a two legged horse-man anyway! Hell, I could make my own rules! The idea of a classic roman style toga, over one shoulder, long and draping, suddenly appealed to me very much.

But it was my feet that worried me most. They had stopped elongating, and while they were perfectly comfortable and I was learning to use them ok, they gave me the impression that they were not done changing. Mainly because unlike my hands, my fur had gone all the way down my foot, covering even what once was my sole. Even my toes and the very balls of my feet were becoming very furry, which caused me to slip a lot on the tile floor in my room.

Just for the fun of it, I did some muscle poses, and flexed in the mirror. My fur hid some definition, but the overall effect was very exciting. So much so that my new conformation began to make me horny. Now, Traveler has to have an impetus to get his prodigious cock to put in a appearance. Like, a mare in estrus, or needing to piss his typical two gallons. But I discovered that Cody the pony, was going to be able to get a hard one in the same ways that Cody the man did; sexy thoughts and erotic touching.

I watched as the dick in that sheath began to slide upwards. I felt its progress as the sheath skin hugged the cock head and slid smoothly over it. In the mirror, the great shaft stretched the end of the sheath open and a very dark brown flattened head appeared, followed by inch after inch of slippery shaft. I watched transfixed as it climbed straight up my chest to stop directly in front of my mouth. And oh, did it smell intoxicating! I decided that I needed a bath, because I could focus out many separate body odors that I usually found unpleasant, but under them all was a strong current of… something I couldn’t put into words yet. Together they smelled like fun!

I experimentally stuck out my long tongue and licked my dick head slowly. Taste, texture, scent, sight! The sensations threatened to overwhelm me. What man hasn’t fantasized about auto-fellatio? Well I had many times, and here was the reality. I gripped my shaft and opened my mouth to see if I could get my dick head in. And stretching and arching my neck, I actually swallowed about the first 4 inches! The need to cum swept through me like a tidal wave, and I groaned in ecstasy as my balls flipped over and pulsed. A huge flood of my own juices rushed up my shaft and right down my throat! Determined not to miss a drop, I sucked for all I was worth.

As the flow slowed, I popped my dick out and took some panting breaths, while I licked my slit clean of every drop that oozed out. So there I stood, legs bowed apart in midthrust, gripping my wonderful tool shaft and smiling stupidly, when my feet began to cramp in a horrible pain!

It was so bad that I couldn’t stand on them, and I sat down hard on the floor, hitting my sore tail in the process. Damn! Ecstasy to agony in 5 seconds! I grabbed my right foot and began to massage it. The toes were the problem. They wanted to curl under, and man did that hurt! “OOUUCCHH! Shit-Shit-Shit!” I shouted. At one particularly bad cramp I threw back my head and I heard Traveler cry out for help. No, it was me that made that cry!

Jerrod and the doctor came in smiling and congratulating them selves. Seeing me down, Jerrod jammed the stuff he was carrying into his shirt, and came quickly to my side. “What is it! Cody, what happened!” Jerrod asked worriedly.

“Cramp!!” I said through clenched teeth.

“Let me look.” I batted his hand away. “Cody!” he shouted sharply, and my ears both flicked back. “Let me look!” So I just held up my other foot. Jerrod began to massage it with his very strong fingers, and it eased a little, but it didn’t stop until the doctor injected my thigh with something. I snapped a surprised look at him.

“Trust me” he requested. “We need to get you on the table.” It hurt like hell but I managed to get up and lay on the table. The doctor pulled up a set of leg stirrups and put my heels/fetlocks in them. I rolled my eyes and head back in embarrassed pain.

Jerrod tried to calm me down and he showed me what they had made. It was a beautiful tan leather halter, with lots of silver buckles for ongoing adjustments. It was tooled in a pattern that showed a running stallion galloping across a field, and very fine work too. And a silver metal collar with the same pattern stamped on its sides.

“A halter in the hackamore style oh Herd Sire!” Jerrod said grandly. “And a royal silver collar befitting your rrrrrank” he added, rolling the R ridiculously.

“Thank you my good man,” I emphasized the word my. I favored the gifts with my best royal sniff. And discovered that they smelled just like….. Him!

“If your hine ass will permit me?” he fawned.

“Of course, of course…” I waved my hand regally. “Peasants. Can't live with 'em, can’t put’em in a box.” I observed.

“I picked tan because it will look so sharp against your hair… uh… fur” he smiled crookedly. He fumbled with the halter, doing adjustments as he went, but the collar fit like a glove. Then I heard the distinct ‘snick’ of a lock behind my neck.

“What was that! A lock?’ I said loudly. He looked hurt.

“Well you asked for this to keep us safe, and I don’t know about you, but I've never had to worry about a horse with hands who could get his own tack on and off!” he added pointedly. Good point.

“The collar” the doctor said distractedly “will render you unconscious with a burst of energy that stuns your central nervous system while doing no physical harm what so ever. Both of us carry the remote trigger device. I’m told it is moderately painful. It is the extreme measure I suggested to you.”

“Jerrod, look as this!” the doctor said excitedly.

“It’s so quick!” Jerrod said in surprise after a few minutes.

“Much too rapid, that accounts for the pain” the doctor agreed. “Cody, what exactly happened before this started?”

“Oh, doc!” I whined.

“No, tell me Cody. It's important.” So I told them about sucking my own dick. Jerrod snickered until the doctor gave him a short look.

“What did I do this time doc?” I whined some more.

“Well, it would appear that producing an orgasm so close to the last one has accelerated your change rate probably due to the double dose of testosterone. Your feet are entering their final stage” he said, watching my right foot carefully. I pulled my left knee to me. The shot had deadened the pain, and I was able to watch as my foot metamorphosed. My toenails had already turned a deep black and were getting thicker and wider. My toes were withdrawing into a circular shape, which brought each toenail to a more vertical position. I had a sick and sinking feeling that made me want to throw up.

“No…” I hissed angrily. “No…! This is not going to happen! I won’t let it happen! I am not going to allow this! I...will...not...have...hooves!” I screamed to the sky. But I had no choice what so ever.

Over the next few hours, as Jerrod sat faithfully on my bed and stroked and scritched his fingers raw in an attempt to give me peace, I watched in depression as all my dreams turned to so much horse shit. In the end, I had a beautiful pair of perfect, unused, shiny, clean, ebony hooves finishing off my wonderful new equine legs. Any farrier would have cum in his jeans at the perfection of them, and over the chance to put his best shoes on those hooves. But horseshoes were not on my mind. Running shoes were.

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

To be continued.

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sunkissedpages · 4 years ago

Text

dirty reflection || th x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this was a piece for @honeymoonlover's birthday that i inserted tom into :)

Masterlist

"Tell me!"

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Tom, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Tom let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Tom raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Tom wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from shooting and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: i don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: tom knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Tom flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!”

You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication.

“We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Tom's eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Tom said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.” You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Tom nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Tom asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lines to read over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Tom grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Tom had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Tom set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over his control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Tom gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Tom didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“T-tommy,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Tom had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Tom's cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Tom began to recite his lines to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond...

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Tom moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Tom's lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?"

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Tom clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Tom smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Tom kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Tom.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Tom brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Tom grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Tom weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Tom as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Tom wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Tom's. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#dirty reflection #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

sluttywonwoo · 4 years ago

Text

dirty reflection || hvc x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this is for @junsol happy birthday tiff!!

Masterlist

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Vernon, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Vernon let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Vernon raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Vernon wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from rehearsal and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: I don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: vernon knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done a number of times before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Vernon flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!" You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication. “We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

Vernon’s eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Vernon said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.”

You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Vernon nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Vernon asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lyrics to work over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Vernon grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Vernon had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Vernon set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Vernon gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Vernon didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“H-hansol,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Vernon had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Vernon’s cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Vernon began to hum to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond and you thought back to all of the colors he had dyed his hair before.

It was brown now, with remnants of the previous black still fading, but he had gone blond once before. You still remembered how shocked you had been when he came home from the salon that day.

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Vernon moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Vernon’s lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Vernon clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Vernon smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Hansol kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Hansol.”

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Vernon brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Vernon grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Vernon weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Vernon as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Vernon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Vernon’s. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

happy birthday again tiff!! love u, mean it <3 (lmk what you thought i always appreciate feedback)

shoot me an ask if you'd like to be added to my taglist

#dirty reflection #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #vernon smut #hansol smut #seventeen smut #vernon x you #vernon x y/n

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Mission Shenanigans

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings | smut, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2385

Summary | while on a mission undercover, you and Bucky are forced to share a bed. Very dirty things ensue

Masterlist

"If we're just pretending to be a couple, why do we have to actually sleep in the same bed? Do you really think they're going to break in and catch on of us sleeping on the sofa?" You scoffed, hands perched on your hips and as shook your head at the super soldier in front of you.

"Maybe." Bucky smirked, his answer short but almost full of a lingering promise of more. You rolled your eyes at him, itching to slap that cocky smirk off his face and also maybe accidentally let his cock slip into your mouth whilst doing so. Oops.

You couldn't help it, really. I mean, Bucky is gorgeous. He truly is a specimen, all muscles and cocky smirks and metal arms. Oh and the metal arm? You were dying to know how the metal felt against your skin, against your lips - your lower lips-

"You there doll?" You were grabbed from your little train of thoughts (sinful thoughts at that) by the man in front of you snapping his fingers in your face.

"S-sorry. Lost in thought. What were you saying?" You stuttered, cheeks flushing pink as you averted your gaze to a vase on the table that suddenly became awfully captivating.

"I said that we should go out and get some wood for the fire before it gets dark." Bucky drawled, rolling his eyes now when you hummed in agreement whilst nodding absent-mindedly.

You were on a mission to get some info on a potential lead on a rising HYDRA group in southern France. You were in a cabin like area near some forest that almost seemed out of place, posing as a young couple that was newly wed and wanted a honey moon abroad. So far you pulled off the part perfectly, playing the most stereotypically-American tourists in Europe you could be. You got overly excited at the smallest things, told everyone you spoke to that you adored their accent, insisted on eating at French restaurants only, and local ones of course.

It was the perfect ploy - the only downfall being Bucky's metal arm causing him to stick out like a sore-thumb. So the super soldier has been miserable in public, roasting in the summer sun whilst clad in leather gloves and long-sleeve shirts.

What you had failed to mention to him that the sight of droplets of sweat collecting along his brow and sliding slowly down his neck got you all hot and bothered. So hot and bothered, in fact, that you found yourself desperate to stick your hand between your legs to quell the growing ache blossoming there.

But you couldn't because Bucky was insisting that you both share a bed. Originally, you had just planned on taking the sofa in the other room and get yourself off but that plans obviously gone out the window.

"Right, well. We should go now." Bucky said, cutting through the awkward silence that had settled comfortably between you two. He grabbed your arm, tugging you out the small cabin and towards the woods.

So, three hours later, you found yourself full of food, groaning with the amount to had consumed. Chewing your last bite, you set your cutlery down on you plate, which was almost immediately swiped by Bucky.

"With cooking like that, you've just become my most dangerous friend, Barnes." You chided, a smile finding your face when he chuckled softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling adorably. He set your plate with his in the sink, turning on the water and drizzling some dish soap into the basin. He sipped his hands quickly on a towel before discarding it on the work surface and turning to face you.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it, doll." He smiled, arms crossing over his chest. With the hot summer heat, he'd changed into a tank top almost the second you entered the cabin, so his bulging bicep was on display as well as that metal arm that you adored. His hair was thrown into a bun at the back of his head, a few framing pieces fallen out around his face and it made him look beautiful.

"I'm gonna go shower whilst you clean up." You suddenly announced, pushing up from your chair and bursting from the room. You walked swiftly down the hall, into the bedroom to grab a towel before you were entering the adjoining bathroom.

You moaned as the warm water soothed your aching muscles, the steam clouding up the bathroom as you hummed the song that'd been stuck in your head for god knows how long. Taking a deep sigh, you massaged the shampoo into your hair, the feeling of your nails scraping against your scalp a welcome one.

After washing the suds from your hair and wiping down your body with a sponge and some lemon scented soap, you shut the water off and pulled back the curtain of the shower. Careful not to trip as you stepped out of the tub, you grabbed the fluffy white towel sat waiting for you on the counter and patted your hair until it was only damp, before drying off your body. You wrapped the cloth around you, holding it up just above your breast, clutching it there so I didn't fall down as you tiptoed back into the bedroom.

The door whined is I opened, the handle banging against the wall as you crept into the room.

"Hey, doll." Bucky smirked, lounging on the bed and resting in his palms. Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you jumped slightly, the shock of seeing him there shirtless and with sweatpants handing loose over his hips caused your grip on the towel to stop long enough for it to fall. Bucky smoothed his tongue of his lip, biting down on it as his eyes roamed your body.

You were still in shock, not moving from where you stood, towel bundled at your feet and arms awkwardly by your sides. Bucky whistled, slowly standing and taking a few strides so he was stood in front of you.

"You look even better than I thought you would." He mumbled, licking his lips again before his hands found purchase on your hips. His eyes were searching you, blue edges fading as black lust petered out from his pupils. Your breathing was heavy, mind foggy but all you could comprehend was the half-naked super soldier stood in front of your naked form, hands - one comfortingly warm one chillingly cold - resting on the bare skin of your hips.

And I just made you needy and slick with want. And that had to be the cause of the words that found themselves upon your lips. Your eyes flickered between his and his lips - his soft, plump pink lips - that were just begging you to kiss them.

"If you don't kiss me in the next three second I'm going to scream." You murmured and he breathed a laugh through his nose before his lips crashed to yours in a lustful, earth-shattering kiss. Bucky's hands travelled over your sides, squeezing your waist before going higher until one wrapped around your neck possessively, using the grip he had to walk you back until your back came into contact with the door you had entered from, his metal hand bracing against the wood for support.

Your moan let him know it was exactly what you wanted and Bucky tightened his grip slightly on your neck, a gentle squeeze to test the waters that had you groaning against his lips. He tilted his head to the side, feeling the kiss even further. It was a dirty, messy, sloppy thing - all teeth and tongue and unadulterated desire. When his lips finally left yours, they trailed down your neck, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses over your throat and your collar bone. A hand found it's way between your quaking legs, finding nothing by slick and slippery skin as the tips brushed through the collecting wetness at the apex of your thighs. He groaned at the feeling, letting his digits dance through the liquid before one was slipping into your quivering hole.

"Bucky!" You gasped, hands reaching up, grabbing and clawing at his shoulders for purchase as his thumb connected with your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked violently into his hand, a low and rumbling chuckle falling from those perfect, pink lips. Another finger entered you, both of them curling - curling just right, hitting that spot deep within you.

You came with a cry and shaky legs, your body falling limply into Bucky's as he retracted his fingers, revelling in the wanton look in your eyes as he licked them clean.

"Delicious." He hummed, pulling off his fingers with a pop. Before you could protest, the brunet had scooped you into his arms, hoisting up up with his hands under your ass - groping and squeezing as he pinned you to the wall with his hips. Your arms were wrapped around his neck by now, fingers tangling into his long, brown hair as his lips never left your skin.

"Fuck, Bucky, please." You begged, but you weren't really sure what you were asking for.

"You want me to fuck you?" He whispered in your ear, a moan slipping past your lips. "You want me to fuck you in the middle of a mission like a whore?" He husked and you moaned even louder - knowing the word should offend you but it did anything but, the combined sensation of his hot breath fanning over your cheeks, his prominent bulge pressed to your folds and his hands resting on your bare sides overwhelming your senses. His hands moved down, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats before he was pulling away slightly, pushing them and his boxers down his legs eagerly. You brought a hand down too, letting your fingers trail over his abs before you were marvelling at his cock - hard and leaking, red tip curved up against his stomach - which was now smeared with Previn that you were desperate to lick off. But he wouldn't let you from his grasp.

Instead, you both let out a moan when your small hand wrapped around Bucky's cock, Bucky shivering slightly at the coldness of you palm. He kissed you again hard, tongue smoothing over your lips before it was pushing its way into your mouth, tangling with yours and stroking over the muscle in languid strokes. You fisted his hair, relishing in the groan he let out as you tugged. You smiled into the kiss at his reaction, but pulled away to squeal his thumb flitted over your clit again.

Bucky moaned when his tip ran through your wetness, hand wrapping around his length as he lined himself up with your core. Bucky leant in, pecking your lips.

"Ready?" He mumbled and you moaned his name, letting out a loud moan when he sheathed himself inside of you in one sharp thrust.

"Fuck, Bucky!" You moaned and he let his thumb rest on your clit, teasing circles rubbed over it making the knot in your stomach forms already, blue eyes now turned black as he looked into yours.

"I want you to come around my cock, pretty girl" He murmured, forehead resting against your as he begun to thrust. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin only spurring Bucky on as his pace became slow but strong, knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust. His breath was hot on your cheeks, eyes keeping yours prisoner and a small layer of sweat coated your faces.

The whole scene was erotic, so it only pushed your further to the edge when he began moaning and groaning, your own sounds vibrating around the room. Your fingers traced over the scars littering his shoulder, before clinging to the cool metal and moaning out at the contrast against your flushed and hot skin.

"Good girl." He moaned, the praise sending a new wave of wetness tumbling down to your core, his cock pushing in and out of you effortlessly now with how much lubrication you were supplying. Bucky's hand moved from the door, fingers wrapping a round your throat again and pushing your head back against the wood.

"This pussy's gonna make me cum so hard, sweetheart, so fuckin' hard." He mumbled into the skin of your neck, dropping his head to nip and suck at your jaw line. You knew there'd be marks there tomorrow, but you couldn't care less in that moment as your walls began to clamp down on his in a vice grip.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel how close you are." Bucky moaned and your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, eyes rolling back into your skull, his pace picking up as he tried to push you to your release.

When you came it was a mind-shattering orgasm, eyes rolling back and hips bucking, stomach tight and legs shaking around his waist.

"There we go, good girl." Bucky groaned, chasing his own release now as he used you for his own pleasure. "Shit, y/n." He moaned, stilling his hips as a final thrust sent him over the edge, cumming in you in hot spurts.

Your breaths mingled, the smell of sex invading your senses as you head dropped forward to lean against Bucky's shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Buck, that was-" you panted.

"Amazing? The best sex of your life?" He supplied, hand massaging your hip as you both calmed down.

"Something like that." You giggled. He chuckled too, and you gasped as he felt him thrust shallowly into you again. How was he already hard again? You figured that the serum must have affected everything. You groaned, and Bucky smirked down at you.

"Ready for round two?" He asked, walking with you in his grasp over to the bed.

"If anyone does break in tonight, they're in for one hell of a show." You smiled weakly, Bucky dropping you into the sheets and crawling over you.

"They sure are, Doll."

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thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis · 4 years ago

Text

Family (Hank Voight x Daughter!Reader)

Word Count: 3,033

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader (Familial relationship)

Summary: When you were 8 and dealing with a mother who left when you could barely walk and a father who was too loaded to even remember he was a father, Hank Voight found you and took you in. Now as an adult and working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51, you are shocked when your biological parents come back to be in your life again.

Warnings: talks of child abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, swearing, and angst.

A/N: Y/M/N - Your Middle Name. Also, this is probably the longest imagine I’ve written so far, I hope you all enjoy it :)

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!!

“Excuse me.”

A rough gravely voice made 8 year old you look up at the imposingly tall figure above you. You squinted as flurries of Chicago snow fluttered around the two of you, sticking to the cracked cement and dried up grass on the sidewalk. The man had short dark hair and what your child’s brain thought of as “Dumbo-like” ears. He wore a blue and black police uniform and had a shiny silver star badge pinned to his chest.

“Hi,” The man said, moving down to kneel so that you were both around the same height. “Are you lost?”

You stared at the police officer for a second before shaking your head no, “I live around the corner.”

“Oh okay, how about I walk you home? Your mom and dad must be worried about you.” He offered. Again, you shook your head.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t have a mom and my dad’s mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, he yells and-and one time he pushed me into the tiny table in the tv room and it really hurt.” You explained, not really understanding your situation but something clicked in the police officer’s eyes. “But a lot of the time he gets sleepy from the bottles of smelly juice and the needles.”

The police officer nodded, and looked down the road in the direction you pointed out where you live. There is a long silence as you shifted on your tiny feet, not really knowing what was going on. Then the police officer turned to you and smiled, his eyes warm as they looked at you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N, my name is Officer Hank Voight. How would you feel about riding in a police car and seeing a real police station?”

For the first time since he found you, Hank saw your sad expression change into a huge smile, your eyes lighting up like the skyline on Chicago he loves so much. And he knew then that he was gonna help you out in anyway that he could.

---

23 years later...

“Hey, Voight! You got someone outside asking for you!” Lieutenant Kelly Severide called out. You looked up from the cards in your hand and then looked around at your friends on Truck 81 who you were playing cards with.

“Who is it?” You asked, already putting your cards down.

“A woman? Says her name is Carla Jennings.”

Still confused, you got up and made your way out to the bay where the trucks and ambo sat waiting for action. Capp and Joe Cruz were sitting at the Squad table, looking up when you walked in and Joe pointed out a woman who was standing just outside the station. Her light brown and gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked around jittery, her hands popping in and out of her jacket pockets. It was gray outside, another Chicago winter just started and soon enough the snow would fall down on the Windy City.

You walked over to the woman, her jittery motions stopping when she saw you approaching. A smile came on her face, and for a second you thought that you saw her eyes water a bit from the sight of you. “Carla Jennings?”

“Yes, hi.” Carla said, pulling out her hands from her jacket again. It looked almost like she was going to go in for a hug, but stopped and then held her hand out to you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Y/F/N Voight. Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” You asked. Her smile that she had on before dimmed a bit when you said your name, but she forced it back on after you shook her hand and let go.

“Wow, look at you. You’re so grown up now.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.” Carla wiped away a couple of tears and sniffled, trying not to look away from you. “It’s just its been so long.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. I don’t know who-”

“Your last name. It wasn’t always Voight.”

You stopped, and looked at her as she walked a little closer to you. You could feel the eyes of your fellow firefighters watching this interaction, then being just as confused as you were. “I’m sorry?”

“Your last name, it was Y/L/N. I’m right, aren’t I?” Carla said.

“Who are you? How do you know that?” You asked. Carla’s eyes started to water again, and she looked at you and sighed.

“Y/N, I’m your mom.”

You look at her, eyes scanning over her trying to piece together what she had said. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was probably referring to your biological mother, not your mom, Camille Voight who raised you like her own and died of cancer. You had no memories of this woman standing in front of you.

“My mom died in 2011 of ovarian cancer.”

“No, I’m your real mom. I gave birth to you and held you and-”

“Left? You left and you left me with that man.” You said, your voice a little louder then before. She looked stunned, like this was news to her. “I’m sorry but whatever you want, I’m not interested.”

You go to turn away and walk back into the firehouse when Carla grabbed your arm and stopped you. “Please! Please I’m you mom, I’m your blood!!”

You pulled away and turned back to her, “No, you are not my mom. You are a woman who was supposed to take care of me and left me with a drunk of a man before my dad came and took me in. So I owe you nothing.”

“Is everything okay here?” Chief Boden asked, finally walking over to the two of you and trying to catch your eye.

“Yeah, everything is fine. We’re done here.” You said as you took one last look at Carla and walked back towards the house. Herrmann tried to stop you but you walked past everyone and straight into Boden’s office, sitting down and waiting for him to come back inside. The anger you felt before in front of that woman started to settle down, and overwhelming emotions of loathing, sadness, and abandonment bubbled up until you were trying to hold back sobs. The office door opened and Chief Boden, and Lieutenants Casey and Severide walked in, all three circling you in worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” Severide asked, slowly putting a hand on your back and rubbing it up and down. Your crying started to subside, and once you got to a point where you were just sniffling and whipping tears away, you finally looked up to the three men around you.

“Um, so that was my biological mother. And... I haven’t seen her since I was maybe 3?” You explained. You turned to Chief Boden and took a deep breath. “Is there any way I could clock out early? I-I need to see my dad.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t be working with this going on anyway. Take a couple days and come back with a clear mind.”

“Yes sir. Do you mind if I wait inside until she is gone? I feel like she might still be out there waiting for me.”

“How about we drop you off at the 21st?” Casey said, then turning to Boden, “We’ll have our radios on in case there is a call.”

Boden looked at you then nodded, “Go.”

“Thanks Chief.” You said, getting up and patting both Casey and Severide on the shoulders before passing them and heading towards the locker room to change. Your mind was racing as you got out of your work clothes, memories of what felt like a past life, waking up with beer and condiments in the fridge, hand-me-down clothes from the family 2 houses down that felt bad for my situation, but said nothing. Once the image of the red-hungover eyes and gnarled and matted hair came into your mind, you shut your locker, snapping yourself back into the present.

---

Once everyone was on 81, the truck headed off into the city to your dad’s district. It was silent as the truck stopped at lights and turned corners, finally you got to the 21st and was about to jump out of the truck when Lieutenant Casey called out to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I hope you’re able to work everything out.”

You sent a small smile his way, thanked him and jumped out. “See you guys later.”

“See you around, kid!” Herrmann yelled just as the truck took off back to the house. Turning, you started walking towards the station, the patrolmen mingling with others on the steps outside. Once you got in, you saw Sargent Trudy Platt manning the desk as usual and that put a small smile on your face. Trudy was always funny and nice to you growing up, and she treated you almost like a daughter. When she saw that you walked in, and by how observant she is probably catching your puffy face and red eyes, concern completely took over her stature.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, coming around her desk and over to you, rubbing your arms comfort.

“Is my dad here? I just need to talk to him about something.”

“He’s out right now with Olinsky right now, but I think he’ll be back soon. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” You said, taking a deep breath and shrugging, “I want to talk dad first.”

Trudy took a second before nodding, “I’ll buzz you up so you can wait in his office.”

“Thanks, Trudy.” You said as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back to your desk.

“You know you are the only person that I can tolerate, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” Trudy called out. She and Alvin Olinsky, your dad’s best friend, were the only two who got into the habit of calling you by your first and middle name. Instead of it feeling like you were in trouble like it would when you were a kid, it was always met with love. You were just about to start walking up the stairs to head into Intelligence when a male voice called out.

“Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You froze, that voice immediately sending anxiety through you like a bucket of cold water. You slowly turned around and found a man trying to stand up from a bench, but was handcuffed to it. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were 8, exactly from when you would see him in your nightmares after moving in with the Voights. His hair was matted and looked unwashed, his eyes red and teeth yellow, and even from how far you were from him, you could smell beer wafting off him. “It is you. Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Danny.” You said, trying to keep your cool. You could see that Trudy had picked up the phone and was whispering something into it, you only catching your name and “get here now”.

“Danny? What happened to dad, huh?”

“You stopped being my dad the minute I left that hellhole called a house.”

“Sorry darlin’, but that’s not how gen-et-tics works. You’re my kin and I will always be a part of you no matter who raises you.”

“Shut up.” You yelled. Others in the station were watching your interaction, you even heard the gate open at the top of the stair and figured that whoever was up at Intelligence came down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, don’t like that now do you? You can try and hide where you came from and clean yourself up, but you will always be Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and you will follow in your families footsteps. You’ll either leave like that junkie-whore mama of yours, or you’ll end up like your dear-ol’-daddy.” He smirked as you started shaking, him noticing your reacting and smirking more, “You can’t run from what you’re made of.”

Just as he said that, Hank and Alvin Olinsky rushed into the building, Hank noticing you and turning to Danny who looked like he just won something. “Get him out of here.” Hank said, pointing to a patrolman near Danny. As the officer uncuffed Danny from the bench and recuffed his hands together, he started yelling.

“Ha! Now you got your crooked cop to come and save the day! Just like when you were a kid!” Danny started putting up a fight with the officer, trying to stay in the area, then turned to Hank, “You can take her and gussy her up, but trash is still trash.”

“Get him out of here!!” Hank yelled again, and two more officers ran over and finally took Danny out of the space. You were still staring at where he was when you felt a hand on your arm and harshly flinched.

It was just Hank, and he frown at your reaction to him, not seeing that happen since you first came to live with him and Camille. “Hey, lets go upstairs.”

You nodded, and the two of you walk up to the Intelligence Unit, you can feel the people downstairs all watching after that spectacle. Once you were both safely in Hank’s office, you both sat down in the chairs in front of his desk, Hank’s eyes still on you as you avoid his.

“Why aren’t you at the firehouse?”

“After what just happened, you won’t believe me if I told you.”

After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked up at your dad, and he gave you a look you remember a lot from your childhood with him. It basically said, ‘try me’, which made you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“This woman came to the house asking for me, Carla Jennings, and ended up telling me that she was my mother. My biological mother.” You explain. Hank looked shocked, him never even knowing your bio mom. “I wanted to come see you so Chief Boden gave me a couple of days to get my head straight. And then that happened.”

“Yeah, Trudy said he was arrested on a DUI that almost killed a little girl.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You sighed, hating that you came from him in the first place. You dropped you head into your hands as the information sunk in.

“Hey,” Hank said, putting a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles, happy that he didn’t have to see you flinch because of him again, “Don’t you dare listen to his words.”

“Isn’t he right though? I was lucky to get out of that hell of a home because of you, but his and that woman’s genes are in me. Its a matter of time before I screw everything up.”

“Genetics don’t mean shit. Hey, look at me,” You looked up and he had a determined look in his eye, “You may have came from them, but their mistakes don’t rule over what you will do. Look what you have done without them here; you graduated top of your class in high school, and then again when you graduated from the Fire Academy. You showed all those sexists bastards that you are just as good, if not better, than any man on that truck, and now there is word that you might be up for a promotion to squad?”

“What?” You said, shocked with the information.

“Boden called me last week saying that you had been taking the classes needed to get on rescue squad? And because you are amazing and smart and strong, there was word from the higher ups that you might get that open spot on Squad 3 as the first woman in the Chicago Fire Department history to be admitted to rescue squad.” Hank explained. You started to smile as some tears escaped out of a mix of happiness, confusion and some residual feelings from what had happened earlier today. “They’re just finalizing some things but they’re going to announce it at the Fireman’s Ball later this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you did that all without them. They had no say on these things, and they will not have say on the rest of your life.” Hank said, pulling you into a hug. The two of you hugged for a while, your tears subsiding as you basked in the feeling of love you were getting from your dad.

“Thanks dad.” You said as you finally pulled away. He smiled and patted the top of your head, sneaking a kiss into your hairline while he was at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Goose. Taking you in was the best decision I ever made.” He said, making you smile wider than you were before. A beat of silence passed before there was a knock on the door and Alvin came in, his eyes bouncing from you to Hank in worry.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks Uncle Alvin.”

“Yeah, no problem kid.” He said, smiling at you and messing up your hair before turning back to Hank, “Ander’s girlfriend was picked up, she’s in interrogation.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Hank said, turning back to you as Alvin leaves.

You turn back to your dad and smile, “Can I stay in here? I kind of don’t want to go back to my apartment right now just in case that Carla woman knows where I live.”

“Yeah, take a nap on the couch in you want. We’re winding down with this case so when we’re done, you and me can go grab some dinner and we can talk about getting a restraining order on this lady.” Hank said. You were about to argue but you knew he was right. So you you nodded as Hank stood up and left one last kiss on your head before heading out of his office. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

Hank turned just as he was passed the doorway and smirked, “I’m always careful.”

“Oh-kay.” You said, sarcasm in your voice as you could hear your dad chuckle then head towards the interrogation rooms.

TAGS: @l4life @ithoughtiwasflying

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Note

ok can i request a din djarin x reader where the reader is a badass but usually seduces her bounties to capture them, and din is both jealous and confused (bc she could kick anyone’s ass) and she whips out the line “don’t work for misogyny, make misogyny work for you” thank you so so much

Atin’la (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being a female bounty hunter is a pain in the ass. When you meet a Mandalorian man and begin traveling with him, you meet seemingly the only man in the bounty hunting trade that respects women. Too bad he’s a hopeless romantic too.

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, alcohol, misogyny, threats of violence, mentions of weapons, Din doesn’t know how to emotion. rude terms to address a female (whore, bitch, etc.)

A/N: I had so much fun working on this request you guys! Fic requests are definitely open if inspiration strikes any of y’all. The bounty they capture in the later part is a Zabrak! I did some research into different humanoid species, and for reference, Zabraks are the species with a ring of horns on their head; the most notable one is Darth Maul. I linked the wookiepedia page here so you can get a feel for what they look like if you aren’t familiar with the species.

atin’la- tough

Being a bounty hunter and a woman is much harder than being one or the other.

Sexism runs rampant in circles dominated by men, and bounty hunting was certainly one of those circles. Finding a man impartial to women was the best you could get in hopes of employment, a man who actually gave a shit about the women was a dream.

Luckily, you’d happened across a man who seemed to see directly past gender. A man who you weren’t even sure was a human, covered in beskar and refusing to even tell you his name. He asked you to call him Mando, and that was that.

You’d happened upon the man during a bounty hunt. You were an independent contractor, working for yourself. You’d pick up pucks from slain hunters, more often than not, or you’d run a spare job for Karga or his rivals. Money was the number one concern for you, over loyalty to a certain guild or a certain code.

The hunt was going somewhat easily. It all changed when you looked down and found a tiny green being sipping soup. It smiled cutely at you with tiny white teeth and you abandoned your mission for a moment to give the little thing a scratch on its head. He seemed to appreciate that, leaning into your touch and slipping his wide brown eyes closed.

The being’s father didn’t like that. You looked up to find a beskar-clad, broad-shouldered man pointing a pulse rifle at you. “Step away from the child.”

“Relax,” you said quickly, putting your hands in the air. “I’m not here for him.”

“How do I know that?” The modulated voice growled at you.

“I’m an independent bounty hunter. Let me show you.” You grabbed a puck and tossed it to the man, who skillfully caught it while balancing his pulse rifle, aiming it directly at your heart. The man- well, you assumed it was a man- pressed the button, illuminating the dark alley with a holographic image of a mythrol. “See? It was registered to Jido Korden. He’s dead now. I stole the puck from his body.”

The black slit in the helmet looked from the puck back up at you. “You’re not Guild?”

“No,” you laughed. “Why bother working for one side when you can keep your opportunities open?” You asked, a smirk on your face.

He shook his head. “I was assigned to this mythrol too.”

“That’s too damn bad, Mandalorian,” you shrugged and walked closer, snatching the puck back from his palm. “Unless you want to work together,” you snorted as you pocketed the little round piece, turning off the hologram. You looked down at the kid again. “Nice meeting you, squirt,” you hummed to the kid and scratched its head before turning to walk away.

“Independent, huh?” The Mandalorian asked, lowering his pulse rifle.

You stopped in your tracks. “Yeah. What about it?”

“You have skills. I’ve seen your image before.”

“Better not have been on a bounty puck.” You crossed your arms and turned around. “Where is this going?”

“I… am in need of crewmates. This kid is a kriffing handful, and I can’t keep watching him and running bounties. It’s just not working out.”

“That sucks,” you shrugged. “Is this an offer?” He stared at you for a second, unreadable. His visor stared directly into your face. “Yes. Come work with me. We’ll take turns running bounties and staying on my ship with the kid.”

“Oh, you have a ship,” you raised an eyebrow as you looked up and down his body. “I’m not a working girl, you do know that?”

“Of course I know that,” the man said, annoyance evident in his modulated tone. “This is not a… partnership of that kind.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head as you looked at the man, the child, and back to the man. “50/50 split of payment.”

“60/40.”

“Don’t make me negotiate a higher rate,” you chuckled. “50/50.”

“Fine.”

You smiled. “Looks like you’ve got a partner, Mandalorian,” you said, hands on your waist. You walked closer and offered him a hand. He took it and you shook on the deal. You introduced yourself and he nodded. “What’s your name?” You asked.

“You can call me Mando.”

That was how your partnership with Mando began. Now, you’ve worked together for a few weeks. His missions tend to run longer than yours, taking upwards of a week. That leaves you on the ship with the child more, but it’s nice. It’s almost fun to pretend domesticity when the Mandalorian man is gone, playing with the child.

Green bean, baby boy, cutie, kiddo, nugget. The kid had many names under your care. You wonder if Mando ever calls him sweet names when you’re the one gone. You hum to the child and put him in his little knit hammock, hanging above the technically-shared bunk. It’s not really yours or Mando’s. One of you sleeps in it when the other is on the mission. One side has a small shelf with some of your belongings- your glasses, wax for chapped lips, a durasteel flask for water. The other is bare. That’s Mando’s side.

The child is asleep, and you’re curled up against the back wall of the bunk, reading something on a holopad. Your home planet has a newsfeed you can stream, and you smile softly as you scroll through it. You take a sip of water from the metal flask and hear the child stirring. He wants to be near you, you can tell, as he reaches out a tiny three-fingered hand toward you.

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “Alright, bud. Come here,” you allow, and the child jumps from his hammock onto your stomach, causing you to make a soft oof as he lands on you. The child giggles and crawls up your body, cuddling in against your chest. You set down the holopad and stroke the child’s big ears. He makes a little coo of happiness, snuggling in and closing his eyes. As much as you’d tried to get the child to sleep in his hammock, every night was like this. He wanted to be held and sung to and kissed between his big eyes. He was a baby, you suppose. You wonder if Mando indulges the child by doing this when it’s just him and the child.

As you close your eyes, you find yourself thinking about the Mandalorian. You liked him, you had to admit, making you smile placidly at the backs of your eyelids. He had a dry sense of humor. He was good to you. He’d indulge in conversation with you between the times one of you would go out on a hunt. He’d listen to you talk and comment along on your stories. He was good at domestics, you’d notice when you came back from your turn hunting. He’d wash and fold the child’s brown robes and his own capes, would polish his weapons and sometimes you could even smell remnants of cooking in the hull of the ship.

Yes, you have to admit, you like Mando. He’s a good man. He treats you and his little green son well. In response to his kindness, you do what you can for him. You get treats at the marketplace with the child and leave them on his pilot’s seat for him to find. You polish his beskar for him at night when he sleeps, in just a helmet and his flight suit, up in the cockpit whenever the two of you are both aboard the ship. You write him notes of thanks and tuck them around the ship for him to find.

You fall asleep thinking about the man, the enigma shrouded in beskar and dark clothing, while you held the child close to your chest.

Mando likes you too. He smiles when he finds a note from you tucked in his pack he carries on missions. He snacks on the candies that you get for him, and even shares them with the child. He falls asleep in the same bunk, thinking about you, the child nestled alongside him.

When he’s on a hunt, he thinks about you and the child constantly. He wonders if you ever think about him the way he thinks about you. He wonders if you consider him a friend. He views you as one. He pictures the way your eyes twinkle when you and the child get into mischief. He thinks about the way you laugh at his dry humor, the way you send a snarky comment right back at him. The way you’re good to him. The way he secretly yearns for you, for your touch, for your lips and your arms around him.

Now, as he’s dragging a knocked-out twi’lek back to the ship, he hopes you’re asleep. He hopes he can catch a glimpse of how relaxed you look when you sleep, the way your nose twitches when you’re dreaming and you press kisses to the child’s head in moments of half-consciousness. He hopes he doesn’t wake you as he lowers the Crest’s ramp and walks up, quietly as he possibly can. The carbonite freezer is loud, and it wakes you. “Mando?” You call as you hear it, sitting up.

“Just me, cyar’ika.”

You don’t know what the word means, but Mando loves to address you by the title. It probably means bitch or snarky one or sassy, you sometimes think. “How did it go?” You ask as you hear the heavy footsteps of the man come to the end of bunk.

“Easily. He was hard to find but easy to take down.”

“The best kind. More time away from me,” you tease, rubbing your eyes and looking at the hulking man, the red and blue lights from various appliances just barely illuminating his shape.

“You like it that way, I’m sure,” he teases back, sitting on the end of the bed and stripping off the beskar, setting it on the floor with a clunk.

“Actually…” you trail off, smiling a little. “I was thinking we could do the next hunt together. I’d like to see your style. My next one is on Tatooine, we could leave the child with Peli. She adores him.”

He turns to look at you. It’s unbearably domestic, your hair messy and your shoulders bare in your sleeping camisole and soft legs visible with the shorts you wear, your glasses slipping down your nose. It’s hard to believe you’re a bounty hunter in this moment, he thinks to himself. You look so delicate and warm and soft. The opposite of him, rough and rude and harsh. “Who’s Peli?” he asks after a moment.

“Mando!” You laugh and smack his bare arm. “The lady with the wild hair. She runs the hangar?”

“That’s her name?”

“Yes, you bantha,” you grin and shake your head. “Her name is Peli. I cannot believe you.”

The child awakens at the noise and makes a noise of excitement as he sees Mando. “Hey, kid,” the Mandalorian chuckles and picks up the child, setting him on his lap. The child hugs him and Mando gives a soft laugh as he hugs him back, lightly.

“Go back to sleep, cyare. I’ll pilot us to Tatooine and you can finally show me how terrible you are at bounty hunting.” He pats your calf softly, with an ungloved hand, and you do your best not to shiver at the touch of his strong hands on your bare skin.

“You get some rest too,” you tell him with a soft smile, placing your hand on top of his. Your fingers are so much smaller than his, so much more delicate, and you trace the tips along the back of his hand. He nods and stands, setting the child back down next to your side. You lie back down and cuddle the child into your chest, trying not to think about how strong and warm his hand felt on your skin.

Once you arrive on Tatooine, you suit up. Your hair is slicked back to the best of your abilities, and your glasses are replaced with contacts. You pull on your skin-tight black tank top and black cargo pants, strapping your holster belt around your waist, slinging your ammunition belt over your shoulder, where it rests between your breasts. You strap one blade to your thigh and another to your upper arm, and pull on your trusted combat boots. You’re ready. “You can come down,” you shout up to Mando, who’s been patiently waiting in the cockpit for you to get changed.

The man climbs down the ladder in his full beskar. Tatooine is a hot planet, so he’s omitted the cape for this mission. You can see a peek of skin when he moves his head, showing a little bit of tanned skin, and it makes you bite your lip and turn away. “You ready?” You ask him as you sling his backup pulse rifle- which you’ve claimed as yours now- over your shoulder.

He nods. “Looks like you are too.” The child has already been left with Peli, so everything is set. He walks closer to you and removes one of his metal vambraces, strapping it to your arm. It looks odd against your bare skin, only ever having seen it against the dark material of Mando’s flight suits or duraweave shirts. “This button,” he says and points to a triangular button, “is the comm in case we get separated.”

“You’re gonna be the one needing it,” you tease, pressing the button on his other vambrace. It makes a screeching feedback sound from being so close to the other receiver and you wince before pressing it again to turn it off.

“Sure I will,” he chuckles.

“Show me the puck one more time?” You ask, looking up into the black T of his helmet. He nods and pulls it out, pressing the hologram. It’s a male Zabrak with a name listed beneath: Gar Thalcyon. Crimes: Bail Jumping, Resisting Arrest, Grand Theft X-Wing. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Men are easy,” you chuckle and take the puck, putting it in a pocket of your cargo pants. “Let’s go.” You walk out of the ship, leading Mando along.

You walk through the crowded marketplace of Tatooine, the Mandalorian man trailing behind you. Your head is held high. You don’t necessarily fit in; many Tatooinians wear robes and hoods to hide from the sun, but you obviously didn’t bother. The Mandalorian behind you most definitely doesn’t belong, attracting stares, but he doesn’t mind either. He’s used to it.

Mos Eisley is, unfortunately, a dead end, you two discover after a day of searching. The bounty puck never indicates that you’re in the right location. Both you and Mando decide to get dinner at a cantina in town before you move on tomorrow. That’s what led the two of you to where you are: sitting in a more secluded booth, watching the cantina’s patrons get drunker by the minute.

You’re sipping a bright pink cocktail, and Mando watches the world around the two of you, sneaking glances through his visor at you. “Isn’t this a little irresponsible for a mission?” You chuckle, swirling the skewer of fresh berries sitting in the glass in front of you.

“He’s not around here. We’re not on mission time now,” he shrugs.

“Oh, so is this like a date?” You tease with a smile.

Mando freezes for a second. You hope you haven’t offended him somehow, but he tilts his head as he watches you. “Do you want it to be one?”

You bite your lip and swirl your drink faster. “I don’t know. It’s a little impractical for coworkers, for co-bounty hunters, is it not?” You chuckle, but there’s no humor in your voice as your throat goes dry.

“It would be,” he nods in agreement. “But our job is only a contract between us. One that can be amended.”

You have a shy smile as you look up at him. “Do you want it to be one, Mando?” You ask.

He’s silent for a moment. You mentally curse the beskar for hiding his expressions from you.

“I do,” he finally acknowledges.

The smile on your face breaks into a grin. “Then I guess we’re on our first date,” you laugh, sipping your neon-colored drink with a smile you can’t get off your face. “I suppose if we’re dating, I should know your name,” you ask him.

It’s the first time you’ve pushed. You’ve never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked why he didn’t. You’ve been kind and caring and patient and damn, he wants to tell you so bad, but his eyes drift to the side and he sees a Zabrak walk in, and he immediately recognizes him as your target.

Mando nods to the side. “Take him down and I’ll tell you.”

You look where he nodded and frown. “So much for a date,” you pout and look back at Mando. Sighing, you pick up your drink and stand. “Just know that I only have feelings for you, okay?” You ask, a hand on his shoulder as you walk to his side.

“...Okay,” he nods, and you walk off, an extra sway in your hips. You may be wearing cargo pants, but your tight top and cinched belt accentuate your body. You’re gorgeous, Mando has to admit.

The man sits at the bar and you pull up a stool next to him, smiling a little and sipping at your brightly colored drink. “Hey there.”

The man’s eyes look you up and down, and he licks his lips with an odd colored tongue. “Hey yourself. What’s your name, pretty thing?” He asks with hungry eyes.

You need a cover name and you need it quick. “Manda,” you blurt with a smile, trying to hold back a laugh at the fact that you literally picked your date’s name- well, the one you know him by- but slightly augmented.

You rest your hand on the bar and the man picks up your hand, kissing your knuckles. “You can call me Gar.”

“Hello, Gar,” you giggle and bat your eyes at him. “What’s a man like yourself doing on Tatooine, hm?” You ask him, swirling your drink and sipping it as you look at him with doe eyes.

He shrugs and looks forward, signaling the bartender for a drink. “I’m a wanted man, my dear,” he says with a salacious smile.

He sure fucking is, you think to yourself, and you can’t help but snort. Maker, men are ridiculously easy targets. Your plays into your theme, at least. “Oh, and for what?” You ask, leaning in closer. You sneak a sedative dart from a pocket of your pants, holding it in the hand beneath the bar.

“Stole an x-wing right off a Resistance base,” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” You giggle, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

He’s about to launch into a spiel when you stab the tranquilizer dart into the back of his hand. “Actually, don’t bother. I already know,” you chuckle, face close to his. He makes a noise of agony and surprise at the needle in his hand, and his body starts slumping. “Never lead by saying you’re a criminal,” you murmur next to his ear and stand, wrapping one of his arms around you and forcing him to walk along with you.

“You’re a wanted man alright,” you chuckle as you walk out of the bar. You press the button on your comm. “Headed to the Crest. Cover our tab?” You ask into the vambrace.

There’s a beat of silence. “Already on it, cyare,” the Mandalorian’s voice speaks through the beskar plate on your forearm. “How did you-

“Don’t work with misogyny, make misogyny work for you,” you grunt into the metal and drop your arm.

The man groans as you drag him along. He looks drunk to anyone else, just barely coherent. “Fuckin’ bitch. Mandalorian’s little whore, huh?” he slurs at you, weakly trying to wrestle free of your grip but failing.

You push him into a nearby wall, twisting his arm at an impossible angle. “Try it again and I rip the horns from your head one by one,” you hiss into his ear.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he whimpers and you let him go, pulling him into the earlier position.

Peli’s hangar is only a short distance away. As you enter, the green toddler squeals in excitement and runs over to you. “Hey cutie,” you laugh as you see him. Peli isn’t far behind. “Go sit with Peli a little longer, let me get this guy in the ship, okay baby?” You tell him, and he obeys, waddling back to Peli, who gives you a little wave.

“Goddamn,” the Zabrak man groans. “That mando is green under there, then? How could you fuck something like that-”

“I can and will slit your throat right now and let you bleed out. You want your life?” You murmur, grabbing the blade from your thigh and holding it to his neck. He nods frantically. “Then shut the fuck up,” you grunt to him and haul him up the ramp, into the carbonite freezer. He begs and pleads until the hiss of the freezer begins and the man is sealed. “Thank the fucking Maker,” you groan as the words stop.

You climb back down the ramp to find Mando already holding the child and paying Peli. He thanks her one last time and you take the baby from Mando’s arms. “Were you flirting with him?” He asks, wasting no time. His tone is deadpan.

“Clearly.”

“Why the hell-”

“I wasn’t doing it for fun,” you grimace at him. “This is my fucking method. It’s much fucking easier, and if I have the advantage I might a well take it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“That’s too fucking bad, Mando,” you practically spit, whipping around and walking deeper into the ship with the baby in your arms. “It’s my-”

“Din.”

You turn around and look at him. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask, clearly annoyed.

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

The anger fades from your body quickly. “Din,” you say back to him, slowly.

He nods. “I… just got jealous, I suppose. I’m sorry.”

You finally offer a small smile, albeit a tired one. “Thank you. I don’t like doing it either but… it’s my way,” you shrug.

He walks closer, putting a hand on each of your arms. “I get it.”

You smile softly and put one hand over his beskar-clad chest. “I told you, I only have feelings for you,” you tell him.

He nods softly. “I’m glad. I like it that way.”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “Well, Din. I suppose we could finish our date in here. I could cook something.” You look down at the little green child in your arms. “With him, maybe it’ll be more of a family night.”

Din cups your face in a leather-gloved hand. “Thank you, cyare,” he murmurs, thumb tracing over your cheek.

“What does that mean?” You ask him, looking into where you think his eyes sit beneath the helmet.

He presses your forehead to his, the beskar cool against your warm skin from the Tatooine air. “Beloved,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing your cheekbones.

A small gasp escapes your lips before they form a smile. “Beloved,” you hum back as he wraps an arm around you. “I like being called that.”

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din and grogu #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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parkjimin1010smuts · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person.

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary. It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow.

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning. I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!” you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation. When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

#bts #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #kpop smut #hot daddy #oneshots

148 notes · View notes

arrowflier · 4 years ago

Note

do you write AUs?

because i wish you'd write a fic with magic 👀 either with both or only one of them having magic ❤️

Oh, dear sweet anon. You'd never guess it from what I've been posting, but AUs are my bread and butter, and fantasy my genre of choice. I just don't do as much of it because I care more about getting it right, and it's so much harder to convey in short glimpses.

So thank you for this, and here goes nothing! Might not be the type of magic you were thinking, but it’s where my brain ended up.

Milkovich Magic

When he's just a little boy, Mickey Milkovich is the chattiest kid on the street. He stands out front of their rundown house and waves at people passing by, tells them stories, wishes for them good things. His father hates it, but his mother thinks it's lovely. She sits next to Mickey in a broken lawn chair, taking turns smiling at her son and at the strangers and neighbors passing by, waving Terry away when he comes too close to interfering.

But she never says a word herself, unless it's to Mickey.

Until one day, when Mickey sees a family walking down the street, and waves frantically at two boys around his age, one with fuzzy brown curls, one with bright red locks. The bright boy turns toward him and smiles, and Mickey feels something shift inside himself.

"Momma," he calls back toward the house. "Did you see?"

"See what, Mikhailo?" she responds, voice oddly cautious in a way that Mickey has long since become accustomed to.

"That boy," he tells her, feeling light and happy. "He's going to be my friend."

The air shifts as the words leave his mouth, seeming to swirl around him. He shivers as it strokes against his skin, leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake, and takes a shaky breath, thinking of the boy's shy smile.

"Mikhailo, no!" his mother cries, stumbling from her seat to fall on her knees at his feet, clutching his arms with claw-like fingers. He snaps out of his thoughts and stares down at her, terrified, as the feeling leaves him.

His terror grows when his father slams open the front door and yells, "What did the boy do now?"

His mother's eyes are wide and scared on his face, but her voice is calm and firm when she answers.

"Mikhailo has done nothing," she states simply, and his skin begins to tingle again. "You noticed nothing," she adds, and Mickey watches as his father shakes his head and wanders back inside without so much as a backwards glance. Then the air is still again.

"Come, Mikhailo," his mother says next, "that's enough for today." And he follows her up the broken steps and into their home, mind whirring, trying to make sense of what happened.

“Words have power, little one,” his mother whispers to him later that night, as they sip hot chocolate in the kitchen after Terry goes to bed. The air smells of milk and burned sugar and his mother’s perfume, and her voice wraps around him like a hug, pressing her words into his skin.

“We have to be careful,” she speaks quietly. Her hand is still warm with the heat from her mug when she brushes his hair from his face, lets her palm rest on his cheek. “When the things you say become the truth, you have to choose your words wisely.”

“Like when I say you’re pretty?” Mickey asks with childish innocence, and his mother laughs, a soft tinkling sound like windchimes in the rain.

“Not quite,” she tells him with a gentle smile. “It takes intent, too.”

“Intent,” he repeats dutifully, then asks, “what’s that?”

His mother’s voice drops even further, serious and firm. “It’s the desire to make change, Mikhailo,” she says, “and it’s dangerous. You never know what path that change might take.” She sounds sad, like she does whenever his father comes home, loud and stumbling when he shoves through the door in the middle of the night. Mickey doesn’t like it.

And he doesn’t understand, either. He’s too young. Too new to the world to see how change could be a bad thing. So he agrees, like a good son does, and doesn’t argue when his mother presses a kiss to his head and sends him off to sleep in a haze of lavender and chocolate.

A few months later, when he hears his father yelling from the next room, hears the crash as his mother hits the floor for the third time that week, he dares to speak aloud the words struggling to escape his heart, despite her warnings.

“Mama is safe,” he whispers to himself in the darkness of the room he shares with his baby sister, who’s curled up against his side, face still wet with the tears that sent her into sleep. “No one can hurt her anymore.”

He knows he got it right when he can feel the wish leave him, a heavy weight lifting from his chest as his desires take form. He can feel the air, heavy with intent, as it brushes over his skin, as it moves like a summer breeze through the open window above his head, bypassing the locked bedroom door. He’s suddenly more tired than he thinks he’s ever been when it’s gone, and he falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years, comforted by the knowledge that he had put change into the world.

The next morning, he wakes to his sister sobbing and pushing loose fists into his chest as she tells him that their mother is dead.

After that, he stops talking so much.

---

When Mickey is eight years old, he's the quietest boy in class. He gets a reputation as a troublemaker, refusing to answer questions or make friends, no matter the effort that others put in.

Eventually, they stop trying, and he's glad.

Until a new boy shows up, and almost ruins everything.

His name is Ian Gallagher, and the first thing Mickey notices as he walks into the room for the very first time, a worn backpack hanging from his skinny shoulder, is his hair.

It's bright red.

And Mickey remembers the day he learned what he was, the day he started down the path that killed his mother, the day that he declared to the world that the redheaded boy would be his and the world started to listen.

He wanted nothing to do with him.

So of course, Gallagher sat right behind him, and tapped on his shoulder, and asked him for a pencil. And try as he might, Mickey could not muster the intent to make him leave.

It probably wouldn't have mattered if he did, he thought. The damage had been done years ago.

But he does manage to speak. And he hears his own voice for the first time in ages outside the confines of the bedroom he still shares with Mandy. It's rough with disuse, lending an edge to his words that never used to be there.

"Ask me again, I'll stab you with it," he threatens, then stops, eyes blown wide and fearful by his own statement. But the rush of air never comes, nor that strange tingle, and all he can feel is the tickle of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

He's so relieved he could cry.

"Are you ok?" the Gallagher boy asks, and Mickey tries to snarl, to make him back away.

"Shut up," he orders. And then he spins back around in his seat to hide his grin.

Because he can talk, after all, without causing terrible things. The trick, he knows now, is just not to mean it.

---

When Mickey is fifteen, he's loud and brash. He throws words around like they're meaningless, because to him, they are.

They have to be.

And it's working out fine, really. As long as he swallows down his feelings, keeps them locked up tight in his chest, it doesn't matter what words leave his lips.

Until, one day after school, he finally loses control.

And of course, it's because of Ian fucking Gallagher.

Because Ian keeps trying to be Mickey's friend, and Mickey knows it isn't real. He knows what he did. So when Ian joins his little league team in 4th grade, Mickey gets himself thrown out. And when Ian tries to partner with him for the 6th grade science fair, Mickey gets himself suspended instead. Every year is a new attempt, and every year, Mickey manages to shut it down.

He's ready to do it again on the first day of their sophomore year, when Ian calls his name outside the old brick school building.

"Hey, Mickey!" he tries, waving gangly arms to catch his attention. "Mickey, over here!"

Mickey studiously ignores him, like always, until he hears the smack of books hitting the ground.

"Whatcha callin' him for, eh?" comes a voice Mickey recognizes as one of his cousins. There's another rough sound, and a curse as Ian himself is pushed to the ground. Mickey's cousin laughs.

"What a pussy," he snickers. When Mickey turns around, his cousin waves him over with a wicked grin. "Ey, Mick, you know this guy?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before he nudges Ian in the side with a dirty boot. "He keeps callin' for ya, think he's got a crush or somethin'."

Ian's face is red, and his jaw is clenched, but he looks away when Mickey catches his eyes. He looks embarrassed, and maybe sad, and before Mickey knows what he's doing, he speaks from the place he always keeps under lock and key.

"You're gonna leave him alone," he rumbles, a breeze picking up behind him. "You're never gonna touch him again." A few leaves flutter at his feet as his intention builds. His cousin doesn't notice, but Ian does, and Mickey finds himself staring into emerald green eyes as he says, "You noticed nothing," just like his mother did all those years ago, and lets the words go.

His cousin blinks at him, suddenly lost, then down at Ian. "The fuck are you doing down there man?" he asks, and almost offers a hand before awkwardly pulling it back. "Eh, whatever," he mutters, and stumbles off to join the line for the bus.

"What was that?" Ian asks breathlessly, and Mickey shrugs, thumbing his nose. Inside, he's horrified by his slip, but all he says is, "nothing."

And scared or not of how it felt, that rush of cool air tingling against his skin as he spoke, he can't deny it felt good.

It feels even better when Ian smiles.

---

When Mickey is seventeen, he has a friend, and he thinks he might have to stop talking again.

Ian is around all the time, now. They sit together at school, and hang out at the Gallagher house on weekends. They go to movies, and baseball games, and tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

And deep down, Mickey knows what this is. He told the world that Ian would be his friend, and so he is. It's nothing more than that.

But when Ian starts talking about the guy he's seeing, starts blowing Mickey off to spend time with him instead, it still makes Mickey's heart hurt.

Somewhere along the line, between avoiding Ian and letting his life revolve around him, Mickey had started wanting more.

It's in those moments, sitting on the sofa with their thighs pressed together, the strawberry scent of Ian's shampoo lingering in the air around them as he waxes poetic about the restaurant his boyfriend took him to, when Mickey fights himself the most.

It would be so easy, he knows. So easy to open his mouth and let the words out. Ian, he could say, you love me. You want me. Leave him, Ian. Be with me instead.

He doesn't. He wouldn't. But he could, and knowing that kills him.

Instead, he starts pulling back. Cancels plans before Ian can. It hurts, but he does it, because Ian deserves to be free from the wish Mickey made when he was a child.

Ian notices, of course he does. He ignores it, mostly, until the night Mickey opens the door to find him standing there, sweaty and scowling.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks Mickey immediately. "Why are you shutting me out?"

Mickey swallows. "Don't know what you're talkin about," he lies, wishing desperately that it were true. He feels a zing of power go through him, but there's no escape for it; his words don't work on himself.

"Bullshit," Ian accuses, stepping over the threshold to bring them chest to chest. "Just tell me, Mick," he urges. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't," Mickey offers breathlessly. "I really can't, Ian."

It doesn't deter him; if anything, it makes him angrier. "What's gonna happen if you do, huh?" he challenges, shoving Mickey back until he hits the wall.

And Mickey can't take it anymore.

"I don't know!" he shouts, tearing at his hair. "I don't fucking know, Ian, ok? I've been trying not to say it for so long, I don't know what will happen if I do!"

It takes the wind out of Ian's sails; he visibly deflates. His eyes turn soft, instead of angry, and there's a quiver in his voice when he asks again. "Tell me what, Mickey?" he whispers.

Mickey won't say the words. Instead, he surges toward Ian and presses their mouths together in a rough, clumsy kiss.

It lasts only a moment before Ian pulls away, and Mickey tries not to die inside. Forces himself not to fix it. But a second later, there's a beaming grin on Ian's bruised lips, and he's saying, "is that all it was?" and leaning in again.

---

When Mickey is nineteen, he has a boyfriend, and he says what's in his heart.

They’re alone in the Gallagher house, a rare enough occurrence already, and they’re tangled together in Ian’s tiny single bed. “Ian,” he whispers when they part for breath. “Ian,” he moans as that mouth trails down his neck and behind his ear, pressing kisses in its wake. “Ian,” he cries out as he clenches fingers in bright red hair, holding on for dear life as they rock together.

“Fuck, I love you Mick,” Ian murmurs against his heated skin, and Mickey stops still.

It takes a minute for Ian to catch on, another for him to pull back, eyes questioning and nervous. “Is that okay?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Mickey licks his lips, and tries the words out himself, like a dare. “You love me,” he whispers, eyes locked on Ian’s own.

Nothing happens.

There’s no shift in the air around them, no new goosebumps beyond the ones Ian caused himself. There’s no weight in Mickey’s chest trying to get out.

There’s just Ian.

Ian, with his copper hair shining in the light from the window. Ian, surrounding him in the scent of strawberrie shampoo and sweat and cheap cologne from the corner store that he only wore when they were together. Ian, who was watching hi, waiting, biting his red bottom lip and trying not to move.

Mickey laughs, and pulls him closer, kissing him again, feeling Ian smile with relief against his lips. “You fucking love me,” he repeats, just because he can. The words can’t change something that’s already true. “I fucking love you too,” Mickey says.

And he does.

#daily speedwrite #<-still calling it tgat even though it took forever #because if it wasn't I'd completely redo it before sharing #gallavich #fanfic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fantasy au #fic request #i just got home I'm so tired😭#I hope it's vaguely coherent #tw:domestic abuse

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marsbutterfly · 4 years ago

Note

How about a hanji x short reader. Where they cuddle and the reader falls asleep in hanjis arms

Note: I was actually writing a story and decided to mix it with your request. I was feeling very depressed when I started this story and writing it genuinely helped me feel better so I really hope you like it, anon. <3

Comforting Embrace

Summary: Everybody finds comfort in different places. For you, it's in Hanji's arms.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

A silence fills your room as you lay in your bed. A tight feeling in your chest, almost as if someone has been holding your heart in their hands, squeezing it tightly and avoiding blood circulation.

Your vision is being clouded by the tears forcing their way out of your eyes, softly sliding through red cheeks and an already wet neck until they fall on your shirt, contrasting against the deep grey cloth.

Not a sound leaves your body but the bed shakes in response to the hiccups escaping your throat. You wrap your hand around the collar of the shirt, pulling it tightly as you desperately try to catch your breath but failing miserably.

A few knocks on the door pull your mind away. Placing a hand above your mouth, you make extra effort to stay silent, even if all you want to do is scream at the world and break things. The gentle voice coming from the other side startles you, for you were not expecting her to come over.

“Y/N?” She asks, quietly. You feel as if a dam has broken in your eyes once water comes pouring out yet again. Taking your free hand towards your face, you place it above the other, shutting your eyes tightly in the hopes she would go away, but no such thing occurred.

A creek coming from the door announces her presence, quickly followed by a small amount of light filling your previously dark room. Footsteps make their way closer to you and you can feel a pit forming in your stomach, a mixture of fear and anxiety.

Her hand touches the blanket, slowly pulling it down and allowing the cold wind to touch your warm face. Your eyes remain shut while you feel the weight of her body touching the bed, your body shifting slightly to accommodate the figure sitting beside you.

“What happened?” Hanji asks softly, placing her lantern on the bedside table. Once you open your eyes, you notice the shadow of her hand floating in front of your face, her soft yet cold fingers brush against your skin, drying the tears that still run down.

You try to speak but no sound comes out, only a pained breath exhaling your lungs. You shake your head, lightly slapping her hand trying to get her away but that only motivates her to come closer.

Her arm wraps around your torso, head laying on your stomach while pressing the blanket against your skin. She can clearly hear the sounds coming from within you, closely followed by the sound of your hiccups. Hanji doesn’t say anything, patiently waiting for you to feel ready to share your feelings but, at the same time, making sure you know she’s right by your side.

In a quiet voice, you find the courage to start talking, “I was assigned cleaning duty today.”

You feel her head nodding on top of your stomach, her eyes never leaving your face in a caring way, showing you how interested she is in your words.

“I thought you loved cleaning duty.” She says, gently placing her hand on your hair, playing with the strands that fall on your face. You reach for a tissue before nodding your head.

“And I do.” You reply, blowing your nose while a few more tears run down your face. Quickly, she brings her body up and reaches for your shoulders, an attempt to get you to sit and press your back against the cold wall. You oblige to her silent request and place a pillow behind you.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Hanji reaches for your hand, cold fingers touching your warm ones, her eyes filled with concern as the flames of the lantern dance with the wind, shining behind her while the shadow covers her face.

“I was so cold my hands started shaking and I dropped the bucket of dirty water on the freshly clean floor.” Hiccups interrupt the words as you avert your eyes, but only a couple of seconds pass before her free hand finds its way up to your chin.

Lightly, she uses her thumb and index finger to change your focus to her, a compassionate smile on her face. Without saying anything, you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue sharing what happened. “Captain Levi screamed at me like I’ve never seen before.”

“Red face and all?” She asks.

“Red face and all.” You repeat her words affirmatively. “I panicked and couldn’t respond.”

Your voice is barely audible and you notice a sad expression taking over her features. She shifts her fingers from your chin to your cheek, her caring eyes never leaving you and the butterflies in your stomach suddenly awaken.

In a second, you wrap your arms around her body and rest your head on her chest. The sound of Hanji’s heartbeat has always been the most calming sound in moments like this, your heart always getting in sync while her hands gently brush through your hair.

For an instant, you could feel a simple smile curling up on your lips and, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. A sigh escapes the brunette’s lips as yet another tear leaves your eye, landing on the strap of her bra.

“I’ll kill him.” She whispers, fingers never once stop travelling through your hair. “I will absolutely murder his scrawny little short ass self.”

Not being able to hold it in, a burst of laughter resonates from your body, filling the once dark and empty room. The atmosphere feels lighter as you now wipe away tears of amusement, but suddenly you come to a realization, “Wait… who are you calling short?”

She looks into your eyes for a second, confusion taking over her features as she opens her mouth multiple times, trying to comprehend what you are talking about, “Levi?” and as soon as his name leaves her mouth, she bursts out laughing while a pout takes over your face.

“You just realized we are the same height, didn’t you?” You ask, a long sigh leaving your lungs as she falls off the bed, her body slamming against the hard floor, closely followed by an extremely loud bang. Rolling around as she clutches to her stomach, you prop your back against the wall once again, resting your weight on the half-bent pillow.

“YOU TWO ARE THE EXACT SAME HEIGHT!” She yells, bursting out laughing yet again. You try to keep a straight face but the sounds she is making fills your heart with an immense surge of love and joy.

A smile curling on your lips while Hanji’s eyes meet yours, the light coming from her lantern contrasts with the brown orbs that stare at you. They emanate the warmth of the sun and, at the same time, it reminds you of the earth beneath your feet, so full of life.

Shifting your body, you place your left hand on the edge of the mattress, prompting your body up to look down at her, your eyes never leaving hers.

Laughter dies in her throat once she feels your now cold fingers touching her skin, a shiver traveling through her body as she nuzzles her face against your digits. Slowly, you place them on her chin, quietly moving her face closer to yours.

Your shaking breath comes close to her, hitting her face gently. In seconds, you close the distance between the two of you, Hanji’s lips touching yours in a manner you’ve grown used to, she always causes the butterflies in your stomach to travel further into your body.

As her tongue softly touches yours, the hairs on the back of your head stand up and your heart decides to skip a beat. Gently, she bites your lower lip, pulling it towards her and, in a second, letting it go but not giving you enough time to miss her.

Hanji’s hand rests on the edge of the bed while your palm transfers your body heat to her. Her nose bumps against yours as she shifts her head and you can’t help but allow a simple giggle to escape. Opening your eyes for a second, you notice a light shade of red taking over her cheeks.

A full-blown smile now takes over your features as she continues to plant gentle kisses along your teeth and chapped lips. After a few seconds, she pulls away, leaving behind a painful void but both of you need a second to catch your breath.

“Lay with me.” You say as you look into her deep brown eyes, not a question or an order, but simply a pledge. Flashing you a smile of her own, she stands up, signaling with your hands for you to move closer to the wall, which you happily and quickly oblige.

While putting your pillow down in its original position, you turn to face the wooden surface on the side of your bed as you feel Hanji’s body pressing against yours, hips touching her groin as you destroy any inch of distance between you. Her hand wraps around your waist with care as she nuzzles her face in your neck..

“I love the way you smell.” She whispers against your scalp. You giggle quietly, brushing your fingers alongside her arm, feeling the texture of the usually invisible hair that rests on her skin.

“What do I smell like?” You ask, the volume of your voice matching hers.

“Home.” Is all Hanji says, and that is all you needed to hear.

Paying close attention to her breathing, you feel your eyelids getting heavier. The wind outside rushes through the trees and enters your window, blowing out the candle that once illuminated your room.

“Thank you for helping me calm down.” is the last thing to leave your lips before the room falls completely silent again. Hanji’s grip on you tightens for a second, a signal that she is quietly saying “you’re welcome”, all the air leaves your lungs as you giggle one final time.

A wave of calmness washes over you as you shift your legs around gently, pulling the blanket over yours and Hanji’s bodies while focusing on the contrast of the cold fabric against your warm skin. The figure behind you lets out a satisfied sigh before adjusting her hips.

Gasping slightly, you take your right hand towards her head, lacing your fingers with her brown locks and carefully detangling them, with barely any success. You can feel her breath touching your bare neck, the smell of her skin surrounding you and you can tell everything will be ok.

Her legs are a few inches longer than yours, to the point where your feet rest close to her ankles. She has never said anything, but you know it amuses her to think about jokes revolving your height, even if they never make their way out of her mind.

A smirk on your lips, you decide to focus on the feeling of Hanji’s body on yours as you succumb to a well-deserved, deep sleep in the arms of the one you love. Any desire to move has left you and all you can do is enjoy her presence.

Tomorrow will be a better day, just by waking up next to her, but especially because you will help her get revenge on Captain Levi for making you cry. She always finds the most caring and hilarious ways to defend you.

And that is what you love most about her.

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

melting fire

Bela had never been so hot before.

Delirious and fever-stricken, she squirmed on her bed, desperately trying to escape the burning heat inside of her. It was like she was laying in the hot sand of a desert, slowly being fried by the sun that wasn’t there. Because she was in her bedroom, shrouded by dim shadows, and the only light was coming from a singular gas lamp on her desk, flickering faint yellow-gold across the floor. But it was so hot, the blankets like plains of fire on her skin, doing little to bring her any comfort.

A soft moan managed to escape Bela’s flaking lips. Her mouth was dry, tongue like burnt coals. She desperately needed water--not even blood, but nice, cold water--but she couldn’t get up. She could barely even move aside from her twisting and turning in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

Her breath came out thin, reedy, and too-hot. She thought she could spout flames, maybe. She had to be burning alive.

There was a squeak as her bedroom door creaked open. She pried open her heavy eyelids to see two silhouettes creeping towards her bed. She instinctively bared her teeth and spat at the trespassers, too weak to raise her claws to defend herself.

“Someone is cranky,” teased a voice.

Wait-- she knew that voice.

Bela settled as her sisters perched on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry,” she rasped, her voice weak and hoarse from illness. “I’m kinda delirious.”

“Kinda?” Cassandra raised an amused eyebrow. “Do you know what you were doing before you passed out earlier?”

“Do I want to know?” Bela asked nervously.

Daniela helpfully supplied her with details: “You were all wobbly and Mother set a hand on your shoulder and said it was to keep you from falling. Your response was, ‘It’s okay, five-second rule.’”

Bela’s face flushed red--redder than it already was than her fever. “Oh--”

Daniela didn’t relent: “And then you started stroking Mother’s arm hair and said, ‘You’d make such a good carpet.’”

“Okay, that’s enou--”

“You also said, ‘my bones feel wet, may I have a napkin?’”

“Daniela--”

“Oh, and we can’t forget, while at breakfast and you were still trying to act like you were okay: ‘Coffee doesn’t taste like coffee, but it sure does taste like brown.’”

“Okay, okay!” Bela yelped, then coughed into her blankets. “I get it. I was out of it.”

“Very out of it,” Cassandra said, stroking her claws through Bela’s sweaty hair. Bela, rationalizing that she couldn’t get any more embarrassed than she already was, leaned her head into her sister’s touch, letting out a soft purr of contentment. Cassandra’s talons were nimble and uncharacteristically gentle against her burning scalp.

“Where is Mother?” Bela asked.

“Aww, are we not good enough company for you, Beli?” Daniela teased playfully.

“I didn’t say that!” Bela squeaked. She hunched her shoulders in. “I was just wondering.”

“Somewhere around here,” Cassandra said vaguely. “She’ll probably come to check on you soon.”

Bela nodded sluggishly. Her head was beginning to fill with fog again. “Alright…” she murmured.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed. “She’s getting all silly again.” She reached out and lightly dragged her claws down one of Bela’s clammy cheeks, probably thinking she was being comforting, when really her touch was just ticklish.

Bela bared her teeth at her, though she barely opened her eyes. “Shut it.”

Daniela tittered.

“Well, we’ll let you rest,” Cassandra said, tugging on Daniela’s arm.

“Sleep well!” Daniela said as she was pulled out of the room.

“Thanks,” Bela replied.

The door shut and she was left in darkness once again.

Bela rolled onto her side and curled up in her blankets. A moment later, she rolled onto her other side, but it did little to help her discomfort. Her body was aching all over and no position was good enough.

Outside, the wind was howling. Another snowstorm was blowing in, loud and powerful. She turned over again to watch the snowfall. The snowflakes flew like dozens of little whiteflies behind the glass, twisting and twirling through the air. It made her think of her own flies, and she broke off a piece of her skin into a cluster of insects. She was desperately lonely and wanted something to interact with since she didn’t have her sisters or mother there with her.

With blurry eyes, Bela watched dazedly as her insects flew around her head. She held out a finger and they lined up on it in a perfect arrangement: blowfly, flesh fly, dogbane beetle, Spanish fly, black vine weevil, drain fly, green bottle fly, clothes moth, click beetle, room spinning, ears ringing, eyes shutting…

Bela’s head jerked back when she began to nod off, sending her bugs into a scattering cloud of frantic wingbeats. She blinked her eyes furiously, but it did little to dispel the fuzziness over everything. It was like she was looking underwater. She rubbed her heavy eyelids, and moving her arms was like trying to move solid beams of lead.

Her fever flared. She moaned weakly in pain.

Her skin was baking, boiling right off of her bones. Her limbs were sacks of heated stones and smoldering embers that she had to drag around with her, and her ears simply felt like they were lit on fire. Her cheeks felt like someone was holding hot iron to the sides of her face and wouldn’t let go, no matter how loud she screamed.

To put it simply, she was like a roasted lamb on a spit, rotating slowly above hungry flames. Sometimes, she had fallen into their orange-gold mouths. She could almost feel the flaming tongues licking at her skin…

Bela squirmed, whining faintly. She couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t take this heat. She used to think the cold was bad, but this-- this was just awful.

She had to escape it.

As though beckoning her, the blizzard howled.

Bela raised her head--which was rather difficult, as it felt like it weighed a ton--and squinted. The snow usually wasn’t very enticing, but something about it now seemed to call to her. It was inviting her to join its cool embrace, promising to soothe her raging fever. She had to oblige to it.

Sliding out of bed, Bela staggered towards the window. The glass was cool against her palms when she pressed her hands to it, but felt even better on her burning forehead. She let out a sigh of relief as the chill invaded her, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed more. She needed to be rid of this fire inside of her.

Bela pushed against the window. It didn’t budge. She whined and pushed harder. It still didn’t budge. Mother kept them locked for good reason, but Bela needed to get out now. She felt like she was being cremated and didn’t know how much longer she could handle it.

Finally, after a few moments of desperate struggling, the window relented under her assault and she was embraced by the soothing cold. It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. It felt…nice.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bela relaxed her body and shut her eyes to rest.

--- --- ---

Alcina was alerted by the sound of glass shattering. She had been idly flipping through a book when she heard the horrendous smashing sound. Instantly, she snapped to her feet and began striding down the hallway until she got to Bela’s room. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by a blast of cold air, which was as freezing as the black ice that suddenly sprinted through her veins.

“Bela?” Alcina shouted. Stepping inside, she noticed that the window was broken open and her eldest daughter was nowhere to be seen. “Bela?!”

Alcina rushed over to the crater created in the glass and looked out. Despite the darkness of the night, she could still distinctly make out the figure of Bela in the snow below.

She didn’t look like she was moving.

“Bela!!”

Alcina ran out of the room, where she was promptly met by her other two daughters. They both instantly leaped away from the doorway with yelps when the cold wind brushed against their legs. She quickly shut the door.

“Mother, what happened?” Cassandra asked.

“Stay here,” Alcina said instead of answering. She then turned and sprinted down the hallway and outside, nearly clipping her head on the doorframe.

When she found Bela, she may have been more concerned about her falling from the second-story window if it wasn’t for how leached her skin was. Her eldest daughter was icy to the touch, her skin as brittle as weak glass in the unforgiving cold. Alcina scooped her up into her arms, holding her close to her chest to protect her from the vicious lashing of the snowstorm as she carried her back inside.

Bela had been out there for less than three minutes, but Alcina’s mind was still running in panicked circles. Was it enough to kill Bela? Was her baby girl about to die in her arms? Alcina’s heart seized at the mere thought of losing one of her daughters. She frantically went over her own notes in her head: the flies generally began hibernating at temperatures below ten degrees Celsius, and it was definitely below ten degrees Celsius out there. When that happens, their metabolism drops and they go into a state of lethargy, which then causes extreme weakness and fatigue. There was also the pain and sensitivity that came from the cold, and though Bela didn’t seem like she was in freezing agony, Alcina still couldn’t be too sure.

It was then that Bela stirred, and Alcina snapped her head down. Bela was squirming in her arms, whining ever so faintly. She didn’t seem to be in pain, she just seemed distressed and very uncomfortable.

“Mother,” Bela panted. “Please--”

“It’s alright now, my love,” Alcina said, carrying Bela over to one of the many fireplaces in the castle, swiping up a blanket folded over a cushioned chair as she went. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” She squeezed her daughter close to her chest, not quite realizing that she may have been smothering her. “It’s okay. Mother’s here now.”

“No-- no--” Bela tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but she was much too weak. “Hot-- too hot--”

Alcina frowned. She had been wondering how and why Bela got outside, but now it made sense.

Was her fever really that bad?

“You can’t be cold, darling,” Alcina said, crouching down in front of the fire, not releasing Bela from her vice. She wrapped her in the blanket, despite her wriggling. Under her touch, Bela's skin was still worryingly frigid and dry. She hoped the snow wouldn't leave blisters. “You must stay warm.”

“No--” Bela’s claws tugged feebly at Alcina’s dress. If it weren’t caused by illness, then it may have been cute. “Mother, please…”

Alcina sighed. She shifted Bela into one arm (it wasn’t exactly hard to do) and brushed her sweaty hair out of her face. Bela leaned into the touch, her eyelids fluttering shut. She purred faintly.

“You need to be warm,” Alcina told her. As hard as it was to resist her child’s begging, she couldn’t just go throw Bela out into the snow. She had to keep her near the fire, where her body could go back to its normal temperature.

Alcina cupped the back of Bela’s head and pressed her face into her neck, rocking her slowly. She should have kept a better eye on her. She should have been there, taking care of her. Now an awful chill had taken lodge in her precious daughter’s body and she was worried that it wasn’t going to come out.

“Mother?”

Alcina turned to see Cassandra and Daniela. They both looked simultaneously curious and worried.

“Is Bela okay?” Daniela asked.

“She will be,” Alcina answered, holding Bela closer until she was holding onto her like a baby koala bear. She was hoping her body heat would help dispel the ice inside of Bela’s own being. “Your sister thought it would be a good idea to break her window and go out into the snow.”

“I’m hot,” Bela whined. She quickly followed her words up with a purr as Alcina stroked her hair.

Daniela giggled. “Beli, I thought you were the smart one!”

“‘M gonna…turn you into a ceiling fan,” Bela growled without opening her eyes. “But…too tired… Maybe later…”

Daniela giggled again. Cassandra snorted into her hand. Even Alcina, despite her worry, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlings, can you get a wet rag for me?” Alcina asked her other two daughters.

Bela chuffed against her neck.

“A moderately cold one. But not too cold. Just slightly below lukewarm. Please.”

Cassandra and Daniela both nodded and raced off to retrieve the item before the other.

Slowly, the cold was draining from Bela’s body, chased away by the tag-team effort of the fire and Alcina’s body heat. Her fever, however, quickly became apparent once again, searing right through the back of her gown and into Alcina’s hand while she rubbed up and down her spine. No wonder she had broken a window just to get outside; she was burning up.

“I’m sorry for not keeping a better eye on you,” Alcina said, shifting her daughter in her arms. “I should have been watching you to make sure this never happened. Though, I never expected you to break a window…”

“Not your fault,” Bela said, her breath hot against Alcina’s neck. “I was being stupid.”

Alcina leaned her back slightly, cupping the back of her head with one hand. “Are you slightly more awake now?”

“A little,” Bela said, her eyes glassy and half-lidded. “Feel like I’m on fire, though…”

Alcina frowned and tucked Bela back against her. She worriedly ran her fingers through Bela’s hair, which was damp with a mix of sweat and melted snow.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, my darling,” Alcina said. “Damn, why did you and your sisters have to be weak to the cold? I would run you an ice bath if that didn’t put you at the risk of--” She didn’t finish that sentence. She shook her head. “Why flies? Why something that can’t survive in the cold? Why not something like-- like-- like birds!”

“Better than being hurt by heat,” Bela pointed out. “Then the fever probably would have killed me already.”

Alcina winced. “I suppose you’re right.”

“‘Course I am. ‘M the smart one.”

That got a small chuckle out of Alcina. “Your hubris is showing, darling.”

“No, yours is,” Bela mumbled, drifting off into a feverish, half-awake daze of slurring and purring.

Despite her remaining worry, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle once again. She rocked Bela slowly until Cassandra and Daniela returned with the rag, Daniela being the one to present it to her. She thanked them, then shifted Bela in her arms so she could wipe her face down with it. Bela shuddered at the cold water on her heated skin, but let out a soft coo of pleasure.

“Thank you,” Bela whispered, cracking open her eyes slightly.

Alcina gave her a tender smile. “You’re welcome. Now, rest, my sweet girl. I will watch over you until you feel better.”

Afterward, she would make arrangements to strengthen the windows.

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #dimitrescu sisters #resident evil fanfic #melting fire

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inactive17645 · 4 years ago

Text

Safe & Sound [1]

Chapter One: Pilot

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader & Wells Jaha x Reader

Warnings: Swearing & Mild Violence

Word Count: 3637

Author’s Note: Welcome to the first chapter of my very first series here on tumblr! I hope you guys come enjoy the ride and stay until the end. I know there are a few Bellamy x Reader fanfic series on here now, but I really wanted to put my own spin on a The 100 rewrite. Also, please let me know if you want to be tagged in any future parts by either PMing me or through my ‘Ask Me Anything’ tab on my profile!

Season Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It was supposed to be like any other day. I’d wake up, the guard would give me three small portions of food throughout the day, whilst rereading the various classics and Greek mythology books my father sent. Eventually, I’d fall back asleep with my mother’s dove pendant clutched in my hand as I gazed out the window, into the dark abyss scattered with diamonds. On every other day, you’d make sure to aside time to practice self-defence. Something that my father had guards teach me before I was locked up.

Today was not one of those days. The chaos of yelling, screaming and grumbling outside the door ripped me from my trance. I shook my head and tried to engross myself again in the book I clutched, but the sound of the door flinging open broke it.

It also didn’t help that this was the last day before I’d be eighteen. Before I’d be floated.

“Prisoner 301, face the wall.” My breath hitched in my throat. No! I still had one more day!

When you didn’t even move an inch towards a wall the guard stalked his way towards you, his presence towering over your sitting form. “Get up on your feet!”

“No! I still have a day left you cunt!” You screeched.

With a punch to the man’s groin, he collapsed to the ground and you scampered out to escape. Unfortunately, I’ve tried to escape my cell multiple times so it was no surprise when someone tackled me as soon as I left the room.

“Get. Me. The. Fuck Off!” I yelled as punch after punch landed on the man’s back. The man grunted after each punch, but he never let me go until I was stood in front of the one man who turned me in a year ago. My own father; Marcus Kane.

Although it was a relief to see him after so long, I couldn’t help but glare at the man. He was supposed to be there for you no matter what, yet he never visited. Too much of a coward to face you and sent books in his place. The kind of books you and your mom used to read together.

“Dad?!” I hated him, but I still hugged him. I hated him, but I still loved my father.

Your eyes glossed with tears that had every intention to escape.

“I don’t want to die, not today!” I pleaded, refusing the tears to shower my cheeks. “I don’t want to be floated!”

“You’re not being floated (y/n),” He told you. “You’re being sent down to earth.” A chill ran down my spine.

“But I thought the earth was still uninhabitable?” Dad just shook his head as another guard hooked me over their shoulder and stalked away from my father’s now retreating figure.

Typical. Just like when I was first chucked in the skybox. He couldn’t even muster a single goodbye. The punching of another guard ensued as he hauled me over to the dropship entrance.

Suddenly, there was a prick in my arm and gradually I drew drowsier, and drowsier. My punches slowly weakened after each hit. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to darkness was the menacing smirk of one Commander Shumway, my eyes darkening in both anger and fear.

In what felt like seconds, my eyes squinted open while adjusting to the poor lighting of the dropship. Screams and yells from others around me filled my ears. As my vision came into focus, I looked around to see the horror morphed on many of the teens’ faces. In the seat five seats down from me, I recognised a familiar head of blonde that I knew oh so well.

“Clarke!” I called. The blonde whipped her head my way and relief settled on both our faces. “Thank the gods you’re here! If I could I’d smother you in a hug right now I would!”

The two of us bursted out laughing knowing I’d actually smother her. Before I had the chance to ask her something else, Chancellor Jaha’s voice filled the room.

“Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You’ve been given a second chance. And as your chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would’ve sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable.”

Expendable? What the hell?! All I did was try to spread the word that the life-support system for the Ark was failing, after overhearing a heated discussion between Jaha, my father and others in the Council.

“Everyone here being expendable is bullshit and you know it!” My voice echoed throughout the dropship, catching the attention of everyone in the room. I gulped at the stares thrown my way, but it was the stare of the single guard in the room that caught my eye.

No guards were supposed to be inside. So the only reason why he’d be here would be because he was escaping something… or to protect someone. Perhaps a certain younger sister that wasn’t supposed to be born?

It had to be Bellamy Blake, the older brother of floor girl, Octavia Blake. His gaze seemed to linger on me slightly longer than the other delinquents around. I wasn’t sure if it was due to pure curiosity or how everyone knew I was Marcus Kane’s daughter. I tore my gaze away from his blank stare and stared down at the metal ground.

As Jaha’s speech became muffled, I gaped at the floor and the room began to groan and shake. A familiar dark-skinned young man was suddenly talking to Clarke.

“Wells?” I questioned. His brown orbs tore away from Clarke, his gaze landing on me.

“(Y/N)! Thank god!” He floated over to me, pulled me up to my feet and smothered me in a hug. A giggle vibrated through my chest. “What’s so funny?”

“I told Clarke I’d smother her in a hug, yet you’ve gone and did just that to me,” I chuckled. Wells only chuckled as I hugged him back.

“This is nice —” We both started but ended in a fit of giggles. Two other delinquents then join Wells and I in standing up. I could hear Clarke softly calling my name to sit back down along with the others standing, but I just ignored it.

Strangely, Wells still held on to me and sat in the seat I was in just before, plopping me onto his lap and snuggling into me more. He and I did have a weirdly affectionate friendship before both our arrests, but even this was pushing the line between friendship and a romantic relationship.

The dropship lurched, sending three delinquents flying who had left their seats despite Clarke’s protests. I clunged to Wells’ neck as his grip on my waist tightened, closing my eyes tight. Something sickening yet sweet filled my nose. Smoke. Sparks went off right and left and with one final violent jolt, the dropship came to a stop.

We were on the ground!

The dropship powers down almost instantaneously and echoes of seatbelts unbuckling filled the room. Heat rose to my cheeks as I slowly clambered off Wells’ lap. His cheeks were crimson red as were probably my own. I helped him to his feet and took one of my hands in his, leading him down to the doors, waiting for them to be to opened as a crowd formed in front.

A dark-haired girl stormed through yelling, “Bellamy!” The guy in the uniform I saw before spun around and stared at the girl in shock. So I was right! He was Bellamy Blake and that girl was definitely Octavia, his sister.

“My God, look how big you are!” The two smiled at each other before the girl - Octavia - jumped forward and pulled Bellamy into a tight hug.

“Where’s your wristband?” Clarke asked Bellamy as she sided next to Wells and I.

“Do you mind?” Octavia cut Clarke off with an annoyed look. “I haven’t seen my brother in a year.”

“Seriously Clarke?” I jumped in, everyone’s eyes turning to me as I let go of Wells’ hand. “We’ve reached the ground and the first thing you do is ask where the guy’s wristband is?” Clarke was surprised by my outburst, but Octavia and Bellamy looked at me thankful that I stood up for them.

“Surely you’d like to be known as someone else. Perhaps the first person on the ground in a hundred years?” Octavia grinned in appreciation whilst Bellamy nodded my way.

I returned the smile as Bellamy pulled on a nearby lever, opening the door to the outside. As a haze of smoke breaks, a bright light shone into the ship, momentarily blinding me but the lush colours of green, blue and brown eventually took its place.

Finally, I’d be able to put my Earth Skills to use!

Octavia slowly made her way down the ramp before she stepped onto the ground. She turned back towards the ship, a massive grin etched on her olive face.

“We’re back bitches!” She threw her arms up as she yelled.

A parade of teens stormed off the ship in a hurry, yelling and screaming that we’re back. A laugh resonated in my chest as a familiar presence took my hand in theirs.

“Together?” Wells asked. With a soft sigh, I nodded, but not before I leapt onto his back. He shook his head as he wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

“Ride on my noble steed!”

�� A gush of air swept through my (Y/H/C) locks as Wells sprinted out the door, but within seconds of Wells being on the ground, we both tumbled onto the grass. One glance at each other was enough to send us into a fit of laughter.

“I missed you, Wells —”

“I missed you, (Y/N) —” A chuckle from above broke two of us from our trance.

“It hasn’t even been a day and you two are back to finishing each other’s sentences.” Clarke towered over Wells and I, teasingly shaking her head at us.

“Are you really surprised at this point, Clarke?” I retorted as I jumped to my feet, smothering the blonde in a tight hug.

“Nope!” With a quick kiss to Wells’ cheek, I sauntered off in hopes of recognising someone else. Within two minutes I had lost the motivation so I found myself a sturdy and long enough stick I could use to fashion a bow with. Someone’s shoelace would probably work for the string.

I sat close to the dropship, carving my initials into one end of the stick with a shard of metal that had broken off the ship, when someone sat next to me.

“Hey, you’re Marcus Kane’s daughter right?” I turned to see Octavia and nodded expectantly.

“That I am..” I replied slightly bitter. “But you can call me (Y/N).” I held my hand out for her to shake, but she hugged me instead. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

“Why aren’t you angry with me? My father was one of the people that got you put in the skybox in the first place.” I asked as she pulled away.

“Because it wasn’t you who did it. It was your dad.” Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. A mischievous look appeared on her face. “Want to get into some trouble?”

I mirrored her expression. “Oh hell yes!” We both giggled before I grabbed her hand and lead her to the dropship. We pulled up behind Clarke and Finn, who were recruiting two other guys to head over to Mount Weather. “Can we go now?”

“Sounds like a party, make it six,” Octavia said as she gestured between the two of us. Clarke doesn’t protest, but a certain oldest Blake does. He grabbed Octavia’s shoulder causing her to let go of my hand.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Bellamy scolded Octavia.

“Going for a walk,” she retorted as she pulled out of his grip. “Are you coming (Y/N)?”

I glanced from the group to Bellamy a few times, debating whether to follow along to Mount Weather or to help Bellamy around the dropship. Although I’d probably be more help with the group of five, something in my gut told me I’d be just as helpful here.

“I’ll stay here and help Wells and Bellamy with keeping order. As I’m sure they’ll need my help” I sauntered back over to the ship, ignoring Clarke and Octavia calling my name and a gaping Bellamy.

Throughout the day I helped Wells with pretty much everything, but as soon as the sun was near the horizon I decided to stop for the day. I wasn’t blind to Murphy trying to get people to take off their wristbands. Such an action was most likely something Bellamy put him up to as he was the only one that could benefit from it. The only question was why.

A shadow casted to the ground by the fire told me there was someone behind me.

“If you even think you can get the upper hand on me to get off my wristband, think again Blake.” It wasn’t a long shot if it was him, and my suspicions were proven right when the man himself sat down next to me.

“How did you —”

“Your shadow gave it away you idiot and only you or Murphy would dare approach me from behind. Not that Murphy has though.” He just nodded as I finally turned to him.

Although I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, Bellamy was handsome. His slightly tousled black hair, brown eyes and olive skin put him under the tall, dark and mysterious category. I tore my gaze away before it became borderline staring.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Blake?” I questioned. He shifted in his spot slightly.

“Thank you for earlier, with Octavia,” He admitted. “Although I’m certainly not a fan of your father, thank you.” Something in my gut told me he really did mean what he said.

“I’m not heartless, Blake” I retorted. “Compared to Chancellor Jaha and everyone else on the council, I’m a puppy.” We shared a look and snorted, trying to stifle our own laughs.

“Why a puppy?” He asked.

“Because although I look innocent, anything can still set me off and my bite is much worse than my bark.” I stood to my feet, dusting off any dirt and sauntered back over to the dropship.

A couple of hours later the world was enveloped in darkness, our only source of light being from the fire. Everything in me wanted to ignore the world around me. However, the muffled sound of arguing grew louder and louder as I left my daze.

“My father didn’t write the laws,” Wells’ voice admitted. My gaze looked up and landed on the arguing figures of Wells and Bellamy.

“No. He enforced him, but not any more, not here,” Blake shrugged. “Here there are no laws. Here, we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want. Now, you don’t have to like it Wells. You can even try to stop it, change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want.”

I stood up, opening my mouth with every intention to object — at least get Wells and Bellamy to compromise on the situation — but Bellamy seemed to notice this and sharply shook his head. My eyes narrowed at him and scowled. He was taken aback by my scowl and I had no idea why.

“Whatever the hell we want!” Murphy yelled out to the crowd. The crowd of teenager, minus Wells and I, followed in suit and started chanting the only rule established. A rule that would do more harm than good.

“Am I the only one who thinks this is gonna result in chaos?” I asked Wells.

“You’re not the only one.”

He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close and I rested my head on his shoulder. Something that didn’t go amiss by the eldest Blake. Bellamy’s face was unreadable and I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

A low rumble echoed from above before a downpour of rain decided to settle. Our first thunderstorm. A soft sigh left my chest as a smile formed on my face. The rain felt so good and I just didn’t care about getting soaked.

I allowed myself to enjoy the rain a little while longer, looking around at the other delinquents with a smile. My smile fades almost instantly when my eyes meet Bellamy’s dark chocolate orbs. I scowled once more at him before scavenging around for something to collect water in. He needed to know I wasn’t onboard with his so called plan.

The handrests of the seats inside the dropship ended up being perfect. I struggled a little getting some off, but I managed. With my small collection of water troughs, I sat them outside sitting in front of me as they collected the rain water.

The thunderstorm didn’t last for very long, but I’m left with a few troughs filled with fresh water. I drunk some water until my thrist was satisfied and I made sure Wells got some as well. Any water-filled troughs still completely full I snuck into the dropship to hide.

Wells then took my hand and lead me to a tree across the clearing and we helped each other up. We sat on a thick enough branch that could hold both our weights, sitting there in silence comfortably for a couple minutes, my head resting on his shoulder. Wells was the one to break the underlying tension in the air.

“I think we need to address the elephant in the room…” Wells trailed off. He took my hands in his and turned the both of us around, our legs dangling on either side of the branch. I could only sigh and nod.

“I know we’ve been best friends since we were toddlers and have always been affectionate with each other, but the cuddle in the dropship got me thinking.” Our fingers threaded through each other as he spoke. “I… I want us to be be more friends.”

My head perked up at his words. Not going to lie, I did develop a crush on Wells two years before I was chucked in the skybox. However, I never acted on it as we had been best friends for years. We grew up together and at one point I thought he had a crush on Clarke.

“But what about Clarke?” I mumbled as he took my cheeks in his hands.

“It’s always been you.”

His lips melted onto my own. Although his lips were slightly chapped from dehydration they were still incredibly soft. It felt as if a fire had started in my heart and I didn’t want it to stop. We eventually had to part for air, but he quickly slammed his lips back on mine, this time his tongue slipping into my mouth. We fought for dominance over each other, but Wells ultimately won. Our lips parted once more and we panted as we caught our breath.

Wells rested his head on my own and we both sighed.

“I’d hug you, but I’m worried we’d fall out of the tree.” Wells chuckled and pecked my lips. “I’ll find another tree nearby to sleep, we wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

I pecked his lips before jumping down from the tree. Almost everyone was asleep, so I walked quietly as possible to the closest tree nearby. I laid down, resting my head and back against the tree. Just as I was about to succumb to sleep a familiar presence sat down next to me.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of having your presence, Blake.” Bellamy snorted at what I said.

“I’m flattered you knew it was me,” he smirked.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I clapped back. I finally turned to his annoyingly handsome face. Gods I wanted to kiss that smirk off his face — wait what?! I kissed Wells only minutes ago and I was already thinking about kissing someone else?

“So…” he trailed off. “You and Jaha. When did that happen?” I gaped at the thought of how to respond.

“We both had crushes on each other, prior to us both being thrown in the skybox,” I admitted. “Neither of us acted on it before the Ground.” He nodded, but something in his eyes told me he was disappointed about something.

Mentioning being thrown into the skybox reminded me why I was put in there in the first place. Me trying to expose to the rest of the Ark that life-support was failing, my father being the one to chuck me inside and throw away the key. It was a cowardly move and my father knew it. He never even came to see me the utter bastard.

“I need help taking off my wristband.” Bellamy looked at me with disbelief. “I want to take it off, but I don’t want to hurt myself.”

He stared at me right in my eyes, probably to see with there was any hesitation in them. However, when he saw none he helped with the wristband, slipping it off with ease.

“Thank you.” He wasn’t really supposed to hear my thanks, but he did, just giving me a small smile before he walked off in the other direction.

My eyes glossed with water, the teardrops threatening to escape but only a single tear rolled down my cheek.

I’m sorry, Dad.

Taglist:

@hftff-lol

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #reader insert #the 100 rewrite #the 100 x reader #the 100 #wells jaha x reader #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy x you #bellamy x y/n

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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

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Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

#wow this got long #thanks for the prompt i loved writing this!#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #my writing #my fanfic #writing #fanfic #prompt fill #season four

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