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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Study Session (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer really hates his student, but he can’t resist her. Request: "Professor Reid x reader smut request? I'm just saying I'd like it to be very obscene." + "Enemies to lovers?" Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Degradation/humiliation kink, heavy degradation, Professor/Student, implied age gap (not specified), hate fuck, fingering, penetrative sex, alcohol, drunk sex, protected sex (condom), semi-public sex Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

There is a reason bars are referred to as watering holes. Aside from the sticky, sugary residue that coats the floorboards and every other surface, there is an undeniable variety amongst the patrons. I could have pretended like I was somehow above the average person at the establishment I was sitting in, but I always try my hardest not to lie if it isn’t absolutely necessary.

Most nights, I was just like everyone else — seeking regrettable company to cope with the mind numbing monotony of my program.

Most nights. But not that night.

That night I saw him, still wearing his three piece suit and nursing something that matched the treacle color of his eyes while the hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. He looked so unfortunately, tragically beautiful seated alone at the crowded bar.

There was something else about him, though. Something strange and hollow in his usually lively movements. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck, and I wondered if it was because he felt my gaze cutting through him. My suspicion was confirmed seconds later, when he finally turned just far enough to meet my eyes through the crowd.

The contact made my heart beat harder before stopping entirely. I was so busy battling my own instincts and selfish desires that I wasn’t able to respond to the challenge in his eyes. Instead, I looked away, hoping I would snap back to my senses. It wasn’t for long, but it was long enough that he vanished by the time I had the courage to look for him again.

I wasn’t going to chase him. If he wanted to hide among the crowds, I would let him. I would let him slip away from the watering hole back to the safety of whatever he called home.

I wasn’t going to chase him, but he found me.

He passed by me with such a casual step that I almost missed him. But just as he’d felt my eyes, I felt his. My body was drawn to him like the most powerful magnet. All it took was one look, and I found myself leaving my seat and trailing after him through the back of the bar.

He had to have known that I was following him, but he never turned around to check. Maintaining the same slow pace and mysterious aura, the man led me straight out the back door and into the cool night air. The latch clicked shut, the noise making the silence of the alleyway all the more noticeable.

“Fancy meeting you here, Professor.”

“My being here is odd,” he said, leaning back against the brick wall and refusing to look me in the eyes, “Yours is very predictable.”

“Ouch,” I winced, though my body language depicted anything but a wounded pride, “You make me sound so cliché.”

“Aren’t you?”

Rather than falling into the trap that he’d set, I laughed. I accepted his perception and played further into it. He didn’t even try to maintain our distance when I stepped closer.

“I’m sensing a lot of judgement here, Professor. Why is that? You’re also here.”

He finally looked at me, and it caused shivers to run down my spine.

“Unlike you, I don’t have more pressing concerns.”

I didn’t let his words nor his boredom dissuade me. I came as close to him as I could with his stance, and then leaned forward to make up the difference.

“What are these more pressing concerns of mine? I’m pretty content with where I’ve found myself.”

“You really want me to say it?” he challenged, a hint of playfulness finally sparking behind the apathy.

When I nodded, Spencer also craned his neck forward. He was close enough that I could almost feel his cheek against mine, but he denied me anything that could be mistaken for affection.

With his breath hot against my ear, he whispered, “With your marks, you should be spending a lot more time worrying about your academic career, and a lot less time worrying about finding someone to fuck you.”

Goosebumps rippled over my skin, but they still were not the most visceral of responses I had to the filthy words dancing along his tongue. When he pulled back, there was a hunger that was too potent to simply be my reflection. He looked into my half-lidded eyes, and he found something worthwhile.

“What if it’s you? Would that count as me worrying about my academic career?” I asked with a poorly feigned innocence. Spencer laughed. It was a dark, bitter sound, but enough to encourage my antics. “We can even talk about different kinds of marks.”

Any amusement that might have been found among his features was ripped away from me by his hand rooted into the hair at the base of my skull. Spencer used that hold to force my head back before pulling me closer.

“Listen closely, young lady,” he said like I had any other option. Like I wasn’t enchanted by the feel of his warm breath once again hitting my ear. He could feel the way breath stuttered and my body stumbled straight into him with eager hands. I could almost feel his smirk against my ear when he concluded, “I would never... ever sleep with you.”

And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t just drop me; he tossed me to his side like the very notion of being that close to me disgusted him. The desire that had been burning inside of my chest quickly shifted to rage.

He could pretend like he didn’t want me, but there was no other justification for bringing me out to the back in the first place. There was no reason to allow me to confront him, nor for him to discuss my sex life in any manner at all.

Seconds after we were both inside again, I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to me. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance. It was almost like he was waiting for me to do it. I tugged him into the small, dimly lit bathroom without a care in the world for who might have seen us or what whispers might follow. Spencer was already laughing, apparently amused by anger rolling off of me.

“Say it again,” I ordered through heavy breaths, “Say it to my face.”

I’d prepared myself for a number of responses — most of which were varying levels of humiliating, such as a reminder that he hadjust said it to my face. What I hadn’t prepared for, however, were the words that actually came out of his mouth.

Casually, and without question, Spencer ordered, “Get on your knees.”

He was so calm that I felt like it must have been a trick. It took everything in me not to fall to my knees, and instead I managed to ask, “Why?”

His answer was as unhelpful as it was alluring.

“Because I said so.”

The world was spinning, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my labored breathing, the alcohol in my system, or if my heart had actually just given out. Either way, I stumbled down onto the tile. Spencer didn’t offer any assistance; he just watched me struggle in heels and a too-short dress.

Once I was settled, wavering just enough to show my enthusiasm without him being able to question my capacity to consent, he finally started to undo his belt. I watched with rapt fascination when the buckle finally fell away. I was so fixated on the sight of his hands about to reveal himself to me that I almost failed to respond to his question.

“Is this what you want?”

My cheeks were burning, and a sudden shyness overcame me as I whimpered. It wasn’t enough of an answer for him, though. He demanded something else.

Spencer slid his palm over my hair, taking his sweet time on his descent to my chin. I nuzzled into his hand like there was actually any affection in the gesture rather than the condescension I was certain that he’d felt.

But then he lifted my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him, and my whole body shook.

“Yes,” I finally breathed, “Please.”

When my eyes were able to focus on him again, though, I found no mercy in fiery golden irises. In fact, I found just the opposite.

“You’re pathetic,” he sneered through more dark laughter, “Look at yourself. You really think I’d let you do that?”

My stomach twisted in knots. The heart that had been lodged in my throat quickly dropped from my chest just as quickly as Spencer’s hand fell away.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking, or if I honestly believed anything that I had said during the night. But what I did know for sure was that I wasn’t ready to let him slip away from me that easily.

So, with unfettered hope and a pitiful stutter, I replied, “Y-Yes.”

“What?”

It was a decent enough question. Whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not, I didn’t care. I answered him, nonetheless.

“Yes! I think you would let me. In fact… I think you want me to.”

I raised shaky hands and pressed them against his thighs. Spencer did not stop me; he continued to dare me with narrowed eyes and a tightly shut jaw. So, I moved, smoothing my hands over his legs until they came to rest at his hips. I didn’t remove his pants any more than he had.

I did something better. I listened to every sound I could elicit, running my nose over the fabric and waiting for him to do something. I was a little impressed by how far he was letting this game of chicken go, but I knew what would cause one of us to fold.

Parting my lips around the unmistakable bulge beneath his briefs, I let out one hot breath. Just one. That was all it took for Spencer’s hands to fly to the back of my head and pull me harder against him. Of course, that very movement caused another breath to leave me, albeit this time through the form of a loud moan.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, and I took it as a signal that my plan had worked. Unfortunately, before my hands could get anywhere near close enough to remove him from the confines of his clothes, Spencer had grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to my feet. He held tighter when I stumbled, ensuring that I wouldn’t go far while he refastened his pants with one hand.

He looked at me again, with slightly smeared make-up and pupils blown wide.

“Fuck!” he repeated, and that time it made me smile.

Whatever delicious thought that he’d hidden behind the profanity wasn’t shared with me, but I hardly cared about the words when Spencer moved again. With his hand still clutching my arm, he all but dragged me out of the bathroom and straight through the bar.

I was barely able to keep up with his pace, much less formulate any meaningful thought. I followed him in a purely instinctive, lustful haze. I didn’t care about the friends I’d abandoned at the bar, nor what they would think watching me chase after our professor like a lovesick puppy.

I’d wanted him for so long, and I was close enough that I could taste it.

Like a true gentleman, Spencer opened the passenger side door of his car for me. Unfortunately, I was a bit too shocked that this was really happening for me to do anything. I turned to look at him, to confirm once more that this wasn’t a cruel joke.

He wasn’t feeling patient, however.

“Get in.”

I crossed my arms, now determined to be as problematic as possible in response to his order.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home,” he answered bluntly.

Still, I scoffed at the pretense he’d chosen.

“Seriously? What are you, my daddy?”

Spencer continued with his frustrated stare, refusing to budge even a little in response to my frankly hilarious joke.

“Fine,” I muttered, my ego soothed by the fact he’d offered his hand for me to hold for balance when I climbed inside. He did not become any more amiable once he was in the car. Every time that I moved in my seat, whether it was to readjust my hair and makeup in the mirror, answer a text, or literally just breathe, he looked over at me with an obvious disdain. He didn’t speak, though. Not until I lifted my foot to rest against the seat.

“Sit appropriately or I’ll leave you on the side of the road,” he snapped immediately.

I tried to respond with a gasp, but I couldn’t help the laughter that filtered through it. “But Professor, I thought you were trying to save me? You’d really throw me out there in the cold?”

“First of all,” he started, and I knew I’d already lost, “It is 75 degrees outside, so it’s hardly cold.”

“I don’t know, Professor... in this dress?” I slurred, drawing his attention back to me quickly by parting my legs.

He was entranced by the fabric inching up for approximately five seconds before he snapped back to reality with a loud, “Second, there is no saving girls like you.”

I suppose I had just proven his point.

“So why are you taking me home, then?”

Spencer didn’t need to think about it for even a second. He’d anticipated the question and probably determined his answer from the moment he’d realized that I’d followed him out of the bar.

“I said there was no saving you,” he explained in a low tone, “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a use.”

The words caused a shiver to flow through me that felt like lightning. My hand slid over to his as it rested on the gearshift. He didn’t even flinch at the touch, and actually loosened his hand just a little.

Enough for me to lift it and guide it over the expanse of my thigh. He didn’t resist when it passed underneath the spandex and inched closer to lace that only barely kept me modest.

“You wanna use me, Professor?” I purred.

Again, he had been waiting for the question. With just one quick glance, he flashed me a smirk that was perfectly timed to his nails digging into my skin. My back arched immediately in response, my hips bucking in the seat to try and draw him closer.

Spencer just laughed and removed his hand like he’d proven his point.

“You are so fucking pathetic.”

But I had my own point that deserved to be recognized by a brilliant mind like his.

“What does that make you then?”

The car came to a sudden stop, which wouldn’t have been nearly as surprising if I’d been paying any attention to our surroundings rather than watching his knuckles turn white from their grip around the steering wheel.

We’d arrived at the dorm, but I wasn’t ready for the night to be over yet, and I knew he wasn’t, either. Before he could come up with any clever little quip or witty insult, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned close enough to him that he would be able to smell the ethanol on my tongue.

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

His response was predictable, albeit a bit boring.

“Get out.”

I couldn’t have expected him to be a gentleman for long, I figured. So, instead of waiting or demanding he open the door for me, I threw my own door open. As he’d described, the night was calm and comfortable. Nothing at all like the way it felt when he looked at me.

I’d barely noticed he’d gotten out of the car himself until he was beside me. He didn’t stay there for long, either. His hand caught my jaw and his body pinned me against the side of his car with enough force to make me dizzy.

“You keep your mouth shut until we are in that room, do you understand me?”

For the umpteenth time that night, I was speechless. I gave a dumb nod that felt impossible against the strength of his hand. One might expect that he’d be gentler with my hand, but he wasn’t. He held my fingers so tightly that they were throbbing by the time we got to my room.

I thought I’d been impatient with myself as I struggled with the lock, but Spencer’s temper was another beast entirely. The second the door clicked shut, he was on me like an animal starved.

He tasted sweeter than I’d expected, but it was hard to focus on any thought for too long. His mouth’s insistence on claiming as much of me as it could was nothing compared to his hands. I was almost surprised he hadn’t torn straight through my clothing.

“You’re a bit impatient for a man who said he’d never ever fuck me,” I said with a chuckle the moment he’d freed my lips.

I almost regretted it, considering it made him stop. But I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I was right.

I took my sweet time removing my dress, much to his annoyance. That only made me want to go slower, to draw out that frustrated look and the ache he must’ve felt from the tent in his pants. I wanted him to want me so badly it hurt.

With my undergarments still on, I took to working the buttons and buckles he wore, instead. He watched me with a shocking amount of desire at the domesticity of it all, and I tried not to let it get to my head. The second I’d stripped him of everything but his own final layer, I pushed him away from me and onto the bed.

I left mine on as well when I followed him onto the bed. I straddled the man I’d been on my knees for earlier and reveled in the feeling of the pure, unadulterated power that I possessed. Before I could kiss him again, though, he stopped me with a few pointed words.

“I thought I told you to take off your clothes.”

“I’m bad at following directions,” I whispered against his lips just before I diverted them entirely. I dropped them to his throat, where I made sure to leave my mark in pink, red, and purple patches.

He didn’t stop me, though. In fact, he laughed at the way my mouth seemed stuck to him.

“Trust me, I’m aware,” he hummed. The vibrations tickled my lips and led me back to his, just as he’d probably planned.

I wasn’t so lost in the kiss anymore, and my hand haphazardly reached into my bedside table until I finally got ahold of the crinkling foil. No sooner than I’d pulled the condom out had Spencer firmly tugged on a small lace strap holding my underwear together.

The sound of snapping fabric was enough to cause me to separate our lips, and I groaned in annoyance as I tried to maneuver to get the rest of the damned fabric off.

“Are you really that desperate?” I asked during the struggle, to which he flashed me a proud, devilish smirk as he answered, “I guess we deserve each other.”

In case his words hadn’t been enough to set off the butterflies and lust raging through me, he paired them with a hand sliding surely up my inner thigh. I heard him chuckle as my eyes fluttered shut, but he never stopped. Now that he was granted access, he was quick to take advantage of that.

One lithe finger slipped between the folds, gathering the wetness he’d caused over the last half hour. He teased me for a few seconds with similarly tantalizing, barely-there motions until even he’d heard enough of my whining to actually do something about it. He entered me slowly at first and removed it at an even slower speed.

I’d nearly forgotten about the condom in my fist against the sheets, too busy chasing his fingers with my hips.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed, finally opening my eyes only to shut them again when I was immediately overwhelmed by the sight of him. “Fuck, Professor.”

He laughed again, although this time there was a blatant delight and fondness in it. Spencer continued his ministrations like there was nothing else in the world that mattered more than keeping me shaking and panting above him. But his other hand traced my jaw gently. It flowed down my arm and a single fingertip settled over my fist where the condom remained unopened.

From there, he patted the back of my hand carefully with a click of his tongue.

“Look at that. Little miss whore can’t even focus on the task at hand.”

“I’m greedy,” I groaned, only getting louder in my objections when he removed his hand in favor of helping me remove his final layer of clothing.

“Again, I am aware of your nature.”

It was my turn to giggle when I finally saw his erection spring free from his briefs. I was only patient enough to allow him to kick off the garment before both of my hands flew to hold him. I abandoned the condom for the time being, opting instead to feel the silky skin I’d fought so hard to have access to. The soft grunt he returned was enough like praise to urge me on.

I scooted closer, pressing myself against him for just a second before I slurred, “I wan’ it.”

“Then do your job,” was his immediate reply, given through clenched teeth and with blunt fingernails back in their place pressed firmly into my hips. “Earn it, you fucking brat.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I took my hand back, filling my palm with spit before rubbing it against the tip of his dick. Spencer threw his head back, filling the room with the most beautiful sound of breathy, rolling moans. I watched the way his stomach tensed, and the aching between my legs got progressively more difficult to ignore.

As soon as he felt my heat pressing against the shaft, he looked up at me again. I think he liked whatever it was he saw in my half-delirious, lustful stare. I continued to rock against him while my thumb clumsily traced the head of his cock.

“I want it,” I repeated more clearly then, “I want it inside of me, please. I want you so bad, Professor.”

“Then do it. I’m not stopping you,” he strained. It hardly sounded like an order. It was more like a beg.

He held up the poor, ignored foil wrapper between two fingers. Relief washed over him as he watched me tear it open between my teeth. We were so close to finally getting what we wanted, but I still had to take my time. Just to be a brat, as he’d so kindly called me. Just to drag it out longer, to be with him longer.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked delighted with the show I’d been putting on for him. The attention he paid me even started to get to me, and my hands began to shake as I began to roll the latex over him.

He only made it worse when I did finally position myself above him. He settled into his place with his hands beneath his head and a proud smile on his cheeks. He’d hardly look affected when I started to sink down on him, but I was struggling to not lose all remaining composure.

“Don’t act so modest,” he teased, “I know this isn’t your first time.”

I wanted to respond with a similarly snarky comment, but I couldn’t. The farther down onto him I fell, the harder it was to make any noise at all. The noises I could make were just pathetic whimpers and gasps that fed into his already enormous ego.

Spencer laughed again, removing his hands from behind his head and beginning to roam my body. That was the way he showed me just how much it really affected him. He could keep a straight face, but his grip on my hips was ruthless, and his words were strained.

“Awww. You’re not so scary when you’re sitting on my cock,” he cooed. “You’re almost even cute.”

My hips rolled in response to the praise, and I was rewarded with a deep, low groan from the man beneath me. Once I was finally accustomed to the size of him inside of me, I started to move. My motions were still stuttered and inconsistent, but I pressed on all the same.

I hated the way my legs were already shaking less than a minute in. It wasn’t even because I was tired — it was something about the way he looked at me like he was ready to devour me.

I would have let him, too. In so many ways, I’d given more of myself to that damned narcissistic professor than I’d ever planned. I’d done it so quickly. All it took was one thrust, two hands on my hips pulling me down to take him in entirely, and I collapsed onto him.

Spencer responded differently than I’d anticipated. Rather than fully mocking the display of weakness, he gently guided me back up to my previous position. It was probably just selfish, I reminded myself. The desire to see my breasts bounce and my stomach tense.

I found my rhythm again, slamming down onto him with everything I could considering the alcohol still flowing through me. It heightened every sense I felt, and every few seconds, I would catch those coffee colored eyes staring back at me and urging me on.

As if on cue, Spencer’s voice filled my room at the same time his hand cradled my face.

“That’s it,” he praised. His next words, however, were anything but kind. With that wicked smile and a harsher grip, he chuckled, “Show me how badly you want to pass.”

My legs moved harder and faster before I even ordered them to; my whole body was working off instincts. I craved his validation with my everything, and he was finding any and every excuse to dangle that promise in front of me. But he knew I wanted that, too. The thrill of the chase.

That was why he continued, “You won’t, but it’ll be cute watching you give an effort.”

His movements betrayed the nonchalance in his words. With each motion, his hips rolled up to meet mine. We moved together in the way the waves meet the rocky shores - both forever altered by their own unique form of violence.

Spencer continued with sharp words that cut straight through to the broken, competitive parts of me.

“Is this why you act so stupid all the time? Because you get off on men humiliating you?”

“No,” I answered a little too quickly, “just you.”

Luckily, he met my vulnerability halfway. Although his grip remained ruthless, his voice was soft when he whispered, “I bet you love the praise even more, don’t you? You want me to tell you you’re a good girl?”

Still too fast to reply, I nodded. It wasn’t the only obvious affirmative, considering I had started to move too fast for my lungs to even keep up.

“That you’re my pretty little whore?”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring in enough air to stop the world from rocking with my movements. I didn’t care; I wanted to be so lost in him that I forgot everything else. The muscles in my stomach were tensing in a new way, bringing me closer and closer to the ledge where I’d hoped I could turn to seafoam with him. Where we could stay forever, lost in the bliss that is the natural rhythm of the vast open blue.

While I was busy thinking such poetic thoughts, I’d missed the signs of his own fast-approaching end. Spencer grabbed me by the hair again, tugging me forward into a haphazard kiss that barely came to be.

“I’m so proud of you,” he gasped, “you make me feel so good with your tight little body.”

“P-Professor...” I tried to speak, but the tremors wrecking my body made the words shake too much to be comprehensible.

That was fine, though. Spencer had more than enough to say for the both of us.

“I love how you tremble. I wonder how much further I could push you.”

“Harder,” I cried, “Please, Professor! Please, fuck me!”

That was all it took for him to seize all control of us. He used all possible force of gravity and his own strength to bring us together again and again. He read my body like one of his many books, and with the same proficiency, as well. He felt as my walls started to flutter around him, and he didn’t once stop.

Not even when he spoke through labored breaths, “How bad have you wanted this? How many times have you laid in bed at night wishing it was me between your legs?”

Since the moment I met you, I thought to myself, I have always wanted to break you.

But it wasn’t him that was shattering into a million pieces in my bed. It was me, stuck wordless and practically drooling. Completely in his control, and never wanting him to give it back. He knew it, too. He saw the submission and he basked in the glory of me, finally giving him everything he wanted.

“Now I’m here and you’re a helpless, filthy mess. But that’s okay,” he reassured me just as I started to feel the world again. “I know how use stupid sluts like you.”

With one final thrust, one more cry from myself and a string of curses from the man below me, I watched the bliss wash over him. My eyes were clear and captivated; the endorphins coursing through my veins and making me fall even harder from the brink of sanity.

He was so beautiful. So vulnerable, guileless, and free. Honeyed eyes were filled with nothing but appreciation and praise, and his lips parted just enough to whisper mangled versions of my name over and over like some sort of prayer.

When he stopped holding me up, I fell onto him. While the lack of structural integrity had gone almost unnoticed by me,despite landing on what was essentially a human made only of bones, Spencer was less understanding.

“You’re heavy.”

“And you’re huge. This bed is small as fuck,” I scoffed back.

“Fine,” was all he replied. But hidden within that one little syllable, I detected the faintest hint of something else. Something not entirely unlike submission.

Something almost sort of like fondness.

Something that some might call falling in love.

The next morning was the most beautiful sort of nightmare. I woke up before the man — my Professor — draped on top of me, and I wondered if it would be worth it to try to wake him. My arm was numb, and my head was pounding, but he looked so goddamn cute with his lips half-pouted in his sleep.

I’d almost wanted to keep him there longer, even at risk of my own discomfort. I took in the innocence and comfort he clearly found in my bed, and my stupid sentimental heart even had the audacity to pitter-pat before it came to its senses again.

Its timing, however, was poor. Unfortunate and disastrous.

Spencer’s eyes opened at the same time I’d realized that I was staring, and he immediately took note of the tender longing I’d managed to convey while hungover and apparently still blissed out from what was definitely the best lay of my life.

His feelings on the night, however, were summed up very easily. In just two simple sounds.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Good morning to you, too, asshole,” I groaned before shoving him off of his position on top of me.

But, keeping on trend, Spencer took all of the covers with him as he toppled gracelessly off of my bed.

Then, cold and markedly less comfortable than before, I shouted loud enough to hurt my own head, “Oh my god, you ruin everything!”

“You’re such a brat,” I heard him grumble from the floor.

“Yeah? Do something about it, then.”

“Give me five minutes.”

I reached down to take the blanket from him but abandoned the effort when I realized just how heavy a bag of bones could be. Instead, I just stayed hanging off the side of my bed until my Professor finally managed to stand.

He had been kind enough to toss the covers back over me, but the rest of the morning was spent in an awkward, tense silence. I sat with the blanket wrapped around me, watching him wordlessly gather his things and make himself look as presentable as possible in a desk mirror and while covered in hickeys.

When it was time to say goodbye, his demeanor shifted for the first time that morning. A strong undercurrent of something I’d willfully misconstrue as regret ran beneath the apathy. In retrospect, ‘fear’ was a better descriptor.

“I’m not a snitch,” I informed him as he stood in front of me at his full height.

“I know,” he said, blowing just enough air out of his nose as he smiled for me to categorize it as a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell anyone because if you do, this will never happen again.”

Gentle, practiced fingertips traced over my jaw as a smile finally appeared on my own face to match his.

“That’s what you said last night,” I correctly pointed out.

I thought he would have a clever reply — something to win, something to shut me up for good.

In a way, I guess he did.

His lips met mine with just enough force to knock the breath from me, but still tenderly enough to lend me his in return. Spencer kissed me unlike the night before. There was no battle of dominance. There was no fear or uncertainty. There was only that strange, gut-wrenching feeling that I’d spotted in his eyes just before we turned to foam together.

“You’re not scary anymore,” he whispered before placing another chaste kiss on my forehead.

I rolled my eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the way my throat closed around the half-hearted scoff that followed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” he called while halfway through the door.

And I wondered to myself how it could have been possible to have already missed him as much as I did then.

There are times in every girl’s life where she doubts herself. Those times had been fewer and further between as I’d gotten older. But that day, sitting in Professor’s Reid’s class, I realized that I might have gone too far this time.

Although I found the tie – Spencer’s tie – wrapped loosely around my neck to be a cute, albeit odd accessory, he decidedly did not appreciate the bold statement piece. Maybe he just had something against women wearing traditionally masculine clothing. But realistically, I knew he was probably just jealous that his clothes looked better on me.

Throughout the class, his eyes would settle on me with every excuse. He returned to me, with a fire burning through him that was likely to burn down the whole building if given enough time and oxygen. I could feel how badly he’d wanted to scorch me, to light the offending fabric aflame and see how I choked on the smoke.

He said nothing, though. He would just pause and smirk whenever our eyes would meet. Then, he would let them wander over what he could see of my body. His memory would make up the rest. I could almost see those images myself, just by the way he cleared his throat like that would stop everyone from noticing just how red he’d gotten.

Spencer remained cordial as we exited the room together. He walked beside me without a word. Until I spoke, that is.

“Good morning, Professor.”

“We’re definitely going to talk about this,” he answered immediately. He’d just been waiting for the opportunity.

But I had also been waiting for one.

“Professor, please!” I balked before whispering, “not with all these people around!”

The other people in the elevator seemed completely unfazed by the supposed scandal. I figured Spencer might be a little more upset, or at least unimpressed by my confidence in my sarcasm abilities. But instead, he just smiled as the cabin started to move.

“I happen to have office hours right now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Maybe I’ll meet you there.”

“Maybe?”

“I have a pretty busy schedule…” I sighed.

When the elevator doors opened and the people began to exit, I leaned over to the man beside me, only to find that he was also inching closer. So, when I did finally manage to finish my sentence, our faces were practically touching.

“I might have more pressing concerns.”

Spencer didn’t answer, but his eyes lit with a familiar fire that made my cheeks burn and the oxygen evade me in favor of feeding into the flames. As soon as the doors closed again, though, the smoke of his lust drowned out all other thoughts.

With no one left to bear witness, myprofessor slammed me hard against the wall of the elevator. But even still, that impact was nothing compared to the way his mouth hit mine. He seemed hellbent on crushing me to the point of bruising; of writing his name on every inch of me until the impression stayed.

“Come with me,” he said breathlessly, “… Please.”

He begged. A single word powerful enough to shatter the illusion that this meant nothing.

“Oh my god!” I shouted as my hands firmly shoved him away from me, “Shut up — You like me?!”

“What?!” he said, forgetting to scoff until a few seconds had passed. Needless to say, I wasn’t convinced.

“You do!” I screeched with a shudder. “What the fu— How can you like me?!”

And Spencer, consistent in his inability to deceive, gave the worst denial known to man.

“I don’t kno—I mean, I don’t! That’s ridiculous!”

It earned him a firm, but still playful punch in the shoulder, which he had the audacity to pretend hurt him.

“I can’t believe you, Professor!”

I sounded angry, and in many ways, I was. But when I stepped off of the elevator, I took the turn towards his office. I beat him there, too, and I didn’t hesitate to throw the door open. The man behind me had built up enough inertia that when he barreled into the room, he both slammed the door and ran me into his desk.

Before I fell too far, though, he caught me by a handful of his silk tie.

“You are infuriating,” he seethed with something other than anger.

“Yeah? Kiss me, then,” I dared.

And then he actually almost did it. Almost. He was stopped by my palm flat over his mouth, clumsily shoving him to the side as I shouted, “You aren’t supposed to actually do it!”

But to my surprise, and my pleasure, Spencer was quick on his feet. His hands found my hips the same way they had that wonderful night, and he used that hold to hoist me up onto the edge of his desk. From there, he felt comfortable pushing the fabric up my thighs.

“Why not?” he teased with his lips finding my neck just as quickly, “I happen to know for a fact that you’re good at it.”

Realizing how the tides had shifted, and that the carnal desire we’d harbored between us had returned in full force, I gave in to him once again. I spread my legs to make room for him to step between them, and he eagerly accepted the proximity.

“This I’m cool with,” I sighed.

“Yeah. I know,” Spencer chuckled as he pulled a condom out of what appeared to be thin air, considering I couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his lips felt against my skin.

While he worked to tear the wrapper open, my hands were busy undoing his slacks. Just as we’d been before, we remained perfectly in tandem. I helped him work the rubber over his erection and guided him to me without an ounce of hesitation. Likewise, he didn’t wait before pushing into me as far as he could before the tense muscles stopped him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Any other praise was kept to himself, but I felt it. I could feel the way he cherished every spasm, every atom of my being that accepted him. Inch by inch, he worked himself to the hilt inside of me.

Once I’d become accustomed to his size again, I felt a surge of power. The realization that the man currently between my legs was completely enamored with me; that he had begged me to come grant him an audience.

So, wielding that power, I asked, “Still sure you want to fail me?”

As expected, my professor scoffed. Then, seconds later, he withdrew so that he could slam into me again with what I’d probably poorly perceived to be his full force.

“Not a chance in hell you’re passing now, sweetheart,” he groaned before pulling me forward to the edge. He used the new angle to ensure he could bottom out inside of me with each ruthless thrust. “Not if it means I can bend you over my desk for another semester.”

“Selfish prick,” I muttered back. I’d wanted him to hear it but was still surprised when he answered.

“Awww, are you not enjoying yourself? Am I not being mean enough?”

I’d almost answered yes, but his hand was too fast. It had rooted into my hair and tugged me backwards before my tongue could form a single word.

“Because I can be cruel if you want me to,” he said like a promise. That assurance was paired with his hips hitting mine with bruising force, and his other hand pulling my legs further apart to accommodate him.

He was so enraptured by the sight of him disappearing inside of me that it made honest to god butterflies swarm in my stomach. I could feel his gaze all over me, his mind working at its maximum capacity to ensure that he captured every single detail about how we existed in that moment.

I couldn’t be blamed for getting caught up in the moment. With our skin slapping together and the smell of sex filling the antiquated office. My breath was practically nonexistent, but I still managed a loud, desperate moan.

If I’d thought Spencer’s hands were quick before, I didn’t know what to call his speed then. He clamped his hand over my mouth so fast that it might as well have been a slap with the sting it caused.

His words were similarly intense.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

There was no reason for that phrase to affect me the way it had. With any other man, I would’ve taken it as a challenge. But with Spencer, all I could do was let out staccato whimpers as my legs tried to close around him. He didn’t let them.

He fought the tension and increased his pace and force. While I fell into that sea foam space again, Spencer’s confidence soared.

“Fuck, yes,” he panted when my orgasm finally washed over the both of us.

I kept my eyes open for as long as I could, hoping my imperfect memory would capture even just half as much as his had. The jealousy and spite kept me from letting go of that feeling until Spencer’s staggered thrusts came to a stop at my deepest point.

Until he pulled on my hair hard enough to elicit a yelp, and he answered it with one final order.

“Take it, you fucking brat,” he said with an eerie sense of calm. “You were made for this.”

But I swore I heard, You were made for me.

When it was over, though, he was quick to pull away. He’d removed, tied, and tossed the evidence into the bin before I had so much as fixed my underwear, much less tried to stand.

Spencer offered me his hand, and I suddenly found myself in that same position as before — ready to climb into his car to prove to him how badly he’d wanted me, too.

But there was no challenge in the way he helped me to my feet, the same as there was none when he’d kissed me goodbye. And when I stumbled forward on shaky legs, he caught me with arms that seemed to fit perfectly around me.

“For fuck’s sake, Professor,” I laughed, trying to still that pesky pitter-patting of a lovesick heart, “You actually caught me?”

“Would you rather I let you fall?” he asked.

“Kind of.”

“Well, I’m not going to.”

I wanted to fight him. I should have fought him. But he saw the hearts in my eyes and felt the way my muscles gave in to him in an entirely different way.

“Ugh,” I whined when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

Not gonna let me fall, huh?

“Too late."

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #prof spencer reid #professor spencer reid

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cantalouupe · 3 years ago

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 4

short nsfw !!! kaeya x m!reader

temperature play, kaeya has cold hands, ice, heated lube?

Kaeya’s hand pets down the side of your torso, fingertips cool against your skin, as if he’d been out in Dragonspine. You aren’t sure if it has anything to do with his vision or if he just has really cold hands, but every touch from him draws attention and immediate reaction. It’s a sensation you are quite familiar with, those hands tracing your body nearly every day.

What is not familiar, though, is the glide of something cold and solid and wet against your stomach. You grapple at his wrist, leaving your comfortable position on your back to see what he had.

Chilled water drips down your front from where the piece of ice was places. It leaves tracks of wetness as it races down your body.

“How am I supposed to make you feel good if you interrupt?” Kaeya asks, amused, while using a hand to push your chest and ease you back flat against the bed.

This was not what you were expecting when he led you to the bed and told you to undress.

“It’s-“

“Cold? That’s the whole point,” he smiles, holding the shrinking piece of ice in his hand. It’s melting, streaming down his forearm sluggishly.

He slips his hand down your chest, smearing the cold water. You shake when it trickles past your nipple.

“Ah, Kaeya- Kaeya, it’s cold.”

He makes a tsk noise, false disappointment at your constant cries and movements. “Uh-Ah, keep squirming and I’ll have to tie you down.”

Somehow, that seemed too enticing to be a threat. Not that it was in any of your control, but the constant cold pressing against your heated skin, leaving a patch of liquid like a stamp where it touches has you twitching and shying away.

His warning - not a very good one - doesn’t stop you from sucking in air through your teeth and squirming where you lay at the frozen sensation.

When he does inevitably have to pull out sleek black ropes, you get the impression that he was planning on tying you up either way - or at least he was wanting to.

Having your limbs tied together and then tied to the posts of the bed, with soft black ropes - made specifically for long periods of wear - that curled and crossed around your body was not a first and definitely would not be the last.

Truthfully, the blue haired male wraps these ropes around you every chance he gets. He told you once, jokingly, that you can’t run away if he’s got you all tied up. With the way your trapped now, stuck to just take the lingering chill that sets into your skin, you wonder if he wasn’t really joking around.

“You know,” he starts, face meeting your cock as if studying some specimen. “You keep acting like this is torture, but,” he pauses, wet finger trailing up the length of your cock, “I think you really like it.”

It’s true that every time the cold bites at you, your nerves alight and your dick twitches, hard as ever against your stomach. You’re sure he’s noticed it, because nothing ever passes him - your hard length bobbing along with every touch is very noticeable.

The next press of ice comes like a shock, jolting you with a yelp. Right on the underside of your cock, beneath the head, a small chunk is pressed, melting onto the hot flesh. You thrash, and Kaeya laughs mean.

“Look how hard you are,” he teases, watching you struggle against the binds that keep you in place. “You’ll come before I get to fuck you.”

You moan out a broken “Oh- god-“ and he makes a small noise in response.

The ice melts and your left with the liquid residue - Kaeya’s touch is gone, though.

You watch him through hazy, lidded eyes as he picks up a tube of something, smothering it onto his fingers. Lube?

A familiar prod of fingers against your hole and yes, lube, globs of it that he smears against it, getting you covered with it before pushing a finger in and-

Something is not right.

It’s slow, spreading as he twists his finger, getting your walls nice and covered. Heat. It flourishes inside you, like a match being lit, warming your insides up. The contrast of the cold that bit at your skin and the warmth that burns inside.

“How is it?” Kaeya asks - he knows how it is, planned this out, tying you up so he can play with you just like this. He presses another finger along with the first. “Hm?”

He doesn’t even let you have a moment to respond, to try to regain any sliver of composure you can. All at once, it is so much. His lips close around your cock, encasing it in his hot, wet mouth. One of his hands snakes up, up, finding one of your nipples, pinching and rolling it between frozen finger tips. Another finger slips into your hole, now three warm, goop covered digits spreading you open, coating you in the heated mystery substance.

You arch - as much as you can with the restricting binds - and your head falls back, mouth opening in forced out moans and cries. It’s so much, too much, and you don’t know if you’ll come or cry but something will happen if keeps attacking you with all these different feelings.

A weak whimper comes when he slides his fingers out, only to be replaced with something wider, thicker, longer, covered in the same substance.

“Kaeya- Oh my- wait, it’s too much-“ It washes over you at once, blinding pleasure that wraps around you tighter than the ropes are. You feel everything, the continue push of his cock inside you, your heated walls clenching tight with each wave of your orgasm, his hands caressing as if to comfort. You think you feel the wetness of tears on your cheeks.

Far off, you hear him coo. “That was an intense one, huh?” A punched out cry and a thrust of his hips against yours. “You ready for another?”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #kaeya x reader #kinktober

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emeren · 3 years ago

Text

bloodlust ☤ 1

taglist ☤ masterlist ☤ archive of our own ☤ next chapter >>

“The devil and I get along just fine...”

Pairing: Fem!reader x Vampire!Eren

Word Count: 5.1 k

Chapter Warnings: Blood, anxiety

Chapter Summary: Reader, a nurse, finds themselves facing a fanged beast, unsure what to make of the world. But this devil with dark hair may not have the intentions you think.

☤ this work of fiction deals with vampires. in turn, there will be discussions of blood and minimal gore. it will also include nsfw content in the near future. all chapters will be marked appropriately☤

Moonlight soaked the path towards his freedom. It danced and reflected off of the dew coated blades of grass. Each one emulated a life he planned to save, with the destruction of his people and the protection of the person he cared for most in the world. She had yet to materialize into something more than the soft breeze of a memory.

He was hungry; the tortuous cry of his instinct to ravage told him so. However, years of training and restraint had yielded him more than capable of swallowing his own desire. The one thing he sought most weighed heavier than impotent monstrous actions. For his goal, he could resist the craving to release his sharpened fangs.

He allowed his eyes one last glance over the house he’d called home for the past four years; dark and gloomy against the stormy night sky. Soon, those who’d chained him in shackles and dragged him to the cellar would be amiss in panic. Wrought iron bars that once caged his devilish soul would be found empty. A beast was on the run.

He felt brief sorrow for those he would hurt in the process of securing their freedom from a pained existence. But he’d made up his mind. All that was left to do was to head north.

His nimble hands pulled the dark hood of his coat above his head. He took one deep breath, the entrancing smell of rain and dirt wafting through the air.

North, to the person that occupied his past, present, and future. To freedom.

☤ ☤ ☤

You considered yourself well suited to the role you’d decided to serve for the rest of your life. Time spent meticulously memorizing health patterns and disease characteristics had broadened your sense of confidence. Doubt rarely ever plagued your mind past the childish decision of what to eat for breakfast in the morning.

Nursing had not always been your final destination in life; the unprecedented scared you enough to mark healthcare as a profession to avoid. Losing two parents unexpectedly in high school due to a mysterious illness had been enough to change your once convinced mind.

Your rain jacket was slick with the slight precipitation clouding the late night sky as you entered the hospital locker room -- a weak cup of coffee in hand, marred with a ring of chapstick residue against the lip. Night shifts were often greeted with unrelenting misery on your behalf.

“You look excited to be here,” The familiar tone of your coworker hummed from behind you. There seemed no force strong enough to concur surprise in your unrested eyes. Historia was someone who lacked a certain fear factor in most aspects of her being, anyways.

“I didn’t see you when I came in, Historia,” You answered, eyes glancing over your shoulder to take in the blonde-haired nurse. Despite having walked in the rain the same as you, her demeanor was much more spritely.

She gave you a smile, following you towards your adjacent lockers. “Ah, I came in the back entrance today.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s working the night shift,” Your half-assed attempt at being friendly mingled with the clammer of your locker. Historia chuckled softly from behind her door.

“I prefer the night shift, actually. Isn’t this your third night on?” She asked. You slipped your wet jacket from your shoulders, shaking it slightly before hanging it in the metal box.

“Yeah, it is. Can’t say I enjoy it as much as you do,” You lightly closed the door, Historia doing the same. Overt kindness wasn’t a trait you claimed when burnt out on work; she knew this and gave you no foul for it.

Her blue eyes crinkled in the ghost of a smile. “Not a creature of the night, hm?”

“I’m no vampire, that’s for sure,” You chuckled. Historia’s smile faltered slightly. It came as no surprise that she was afraid of monsters and ghouls. You decided to change the subject in her favor. “Speaking of, I hear it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened, coy smirk wiggling its way back onto her blushed cheeks. Despite your adverse to the unknown, you enjoyed indulging in childish hospital rumors. The notion that weird cases spiked on nights when the moon was full in the sky was a tale as old as time; strange people flooded the hospitals, with even stranger injuries and illnesses. Or so that was what people said, not that you’d ever experienced it yourself. “I wonder if anything crazy will happen tonight.”

“Doubt it,” You stepped aside, allowing her to match your stride as the two of you headed towards the conference room for a briefing before the shift. She hummed in agreement, the rest of the walk done in a comfortable silence.

The room for debriefing was a mundane conference set up. The walls were a bleached white; anatomy posters and warnings about the harmful nature of cigarettes decorating the walls. An oval desk surrounded by blue, plastic chairs took up most of the room. It smelled like microwaved Kraft, courtesy of a nurse scarfing down a last helping before their shift started.

“That’s odd,” Historia frowned, blue eyes tracing the room. Staff sat around in quiet huddles, most silently waiting for the briefing to start. She glanced down at her watch before nudging you in the arm. “Where’s Doctor Smith? We start in two minutes.”

The tall, burly man was never late for a briefing; his stoic nature didn’t allow room for such a lack. He had never given you a reason to doubt his trust, but something about his demeanor made you uneasy. He commanded a room with such conviction that your coworkers fell to his feet with unadulterated respect; you, a mindless sheep following their lead. Rational thought would’ve placed your discomfort on his position of power and his role as your boss. Simply put, however, he gave you the creeps.

The plastic chair skidded against the polished floor as you took your seat at the table beside Historia. The older staff coughed and occasionally grumbled, filling the tired silence with a sense of annoyance. Your blonde coworker sensed your gripe, elbowing you in the ribs and leaving a crease in your lilac scrubs. You suppressed a smile.

“Pardon me,” Doctor Smith’s commanding voice echoed through the room before he stepped in the doorway. Your muscles tensed; back straightening as if to give the illusion that you hadn’t been hunched over, looking exhausted and miserable. His blond hair was perfectly sculpted; not a strand out of place and not a wrinkle in his blue dress shirt. His lab coat was almost a sickeningly bleached titanium. “Sorry for my tardiness; I was dealing with an emergency back home.”

Historia shifted beside you.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” He gave a terse smile before picking his clipboard off of the table and flipping through the papers. “Looks like we’ve got the regular scheduling for this evening. As usual, the night shift staffing is lighter than our other shifts, so remember to be vigilant and take action without being told to.”

You tended to tune out the mundane precautions and warnings that were part of a pre-shift briefing. Outside the window, rain pattered against the glass pane. The shower provided a sense of comfort; rain often preceded a night spent inside, wrapped in blankets with a mug of hot tea. Though your current schedule didn’t allow room for such indulgence, you took a small delight in the weather condition.

Historia bumped your knee with her own under the table. You glanced at your friend, slightly alarmed from your daze. She leaned over, attempting to discreetly whisper in your ear. “He looks distracted tonight, hm? Wonder what that’s about.”

Your eyes glanced at Doctor Smith, who was reading through the clipboard with a staccato like urgency. Not wanting to cause any disturbance, you nodded your head in agreement.

“We’ll follow through with our regular assignments. If you don’t know where you’re located this evening, I suggest checking the bulletin in the locker room. As for this meeting, you’re all free to go,” His blue irises scanned the faces of all the employees, searching for confusion or questions to be answered. You averted your gaze, following suit as the rest of the room erupted in moving chairs and shuffling scrubs.

You already knew where you were working for the night; the same place as the last two, over in the geriatrics wing. This night would be the same as the others, not that you were in any place to be upset about that.

“Y/N!” Historia’s voice called you to look over your shoulder, barely out of the conference room. She had a slimy smile on her face; the kind that reeked of favors and avoidance. You felt the need to control your eyebrow from rising in annoyance. “Can I ask you something?”

You exhaled from your nose. “Shoot.”

“I have a patient in room 702 that I was assigned to,” The slightest batting of her mascara slicked lashes, blue irises working their hardest to win you over. You raised your eyebrows, urging her to continue. The other staff shuffled by you, sparing nosy glances. “I was wondering if you could take it? I’ll work in the geriatrics wing tonight for you.”

You had to give it to the tiny woman; for all she was worth, she was great at getting people to do what she wanted. You valued her responsibility and reliability, and she’d proved to be a friendly presence in the workplace. However, that didn’t stop you from seeing the selfish underbelly of her prosperous actions.

“What’s the patient in for?” You humored her. Even if her request was self-fulfilling, you figured might as well use it to your own advantage. Almost anything beat another night in geriatrics changing diapers and administering pill dosages.

“A blood transfusion,” She responded, smiling softly at you. “I’m not very good with bloody things, you know. Easily squeamish.”

You pretended to ponder whether or not to take her up on her offer. It was an easy choice, really. “Yeah, sure. What blood type are they?”

☤ ☤ ☤

The stand rattled unpleasantly against the tiled ground as you stopped in front of room 702. The thick bag of blood shook slightly from the sudden stop. How Historia had ever become a nurse when grossed out with the concept of blood, you weren’t sure. It seemed that her sweet disposition often aided her in whatever situation she needed to change for the better. You were an adult woman though, so whatever her motivations might’ve been didn’t concern you.

You gave the cart a once over, making sure all the necessary tools and items were there: a needle, an IV, gauze, those sorts of things. Blood transfusions were a typically fussless procedure; tediously watching the red liquid pump itself into the body.

Your knuckles lightly knocked on the door. “Hello, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion!”

Silence, beating through the empty hallway of the hospital. The lights were dimmed and eerily abandoned. You waited for ten seconds before opening the door to the sleepy room.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing he who was to be given blood. Historia had mentioned he was a John Doe, lying unconscious on the bleached sheets. You turned back to grab your cart, not bothering to be quiet. He’d be awake soon enough, anyway.

As you wheeled it in, your back was to the patient. The cart squeaked and rattled, stopping at the foot of the bed. You turned around, ready to rouse him from his slumber.

Beautiful.

You’d had attractive patients before. Both men and women who floated by life with the easy wings of accurately placed facial features to boost them up. A pretty face often had heat rising to your cheeks, but professionalism stopped you from thinking any further. Natural biological responses couldn’t be helped, after all.

Never had a patient left your lips parting in awe, heart drumming up it’s own beat of excitement in your chest. His face was slim; sharp jawline and a large, broad nose peeking out into the air. Pale cheeks barely dusted by the pink of an almost intangible blush. His eyelashes were long and thick, jutting out against the purple hue of his impossibly dark circles. Hair the color of old driftwood swirled and bunched on his pillow. He had to have been one of the most attractive people you’d ever treated, let alone seen.

What color were his eyes? Were they a dark brown, one to match the nature of his hair color? Or were they green, contrasting his pale skin? You began to feel eager to find out, more excited to know and learn as your gloved hand gripped his broad shoulder. You frowned at the frigid temperature of his skin.

“Excuse me, sir,” You gently shook, trying not to give away the way your body was reacting. There was no place for hormonal displays in your line of work, and despite his undeniable beauty, you were determined to remain professional.

His eyelids snapped open with such a speed you had to compose yourself not to trip backwards. Contrary to what you thought, his irises were a pale, almost sickly greyish blue. They held no gleam; no life behind them. Disturbance washed over your brain, warning bells going off in your mind. He looks slightly… feral?

He jolted upwards, confusion knotted on his once peaceful face. You stumbled backwards slightly, hip clipping on the cart.

“Who are you?” His voice was gravelly, as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. Blue eyes stared at you with such an uncertainty it made your head spin.

“I’m your nurse, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion,” You gestured towards the cart and stand, a red bag hanging from it like a token of peace. Despite his prickly reaction, you weren’t frightened.

“I feel like I’ve met you before,” He said, eyes squinted. Analyzing you, trying to pick apart your being, yet there you stood before him, a marvel to be held. He briefly glanced to the side; not more than a millisecond were his eyes off you before they were back, filled with unadulterated panic. “Where- where is Historia?”

You frowned, a little perturbed. “She asked to swap-”

“I need you to leave, now.” He growled, voice deep and authoritative. You widened your gaze, taken aback by his demanding request. The sheet fell from around his shoulders, bare chest exposed. Large hands raced to his face, hiding the features you’d once considered beautiful. “Get out of here!”

“Are you alright?” You panicked, stepping closer to the bed. His large form began shaking, knees drawing towards his chest from under the blanket. He appeared to be in pain; like a wounded animal.

“Fuck,” He yelled, breathing becoming labored. There wasn’t time to ponder. Was he having a panic attack? Was he going into shock? Questions didn’t need to be asked, you just knew that you needed to act. “I said leave!”

“No, I need to help you with whatever-” His hand shot off of his face, long, black claws sharpening from his fingers. You became fear stricken, his palm connecting with your chest. It sent you stumbling backwards, tripping over the wire to the heart monitor and slamming into the wall with your back. Tendrils of pain clamored up your spine.

“Close your eyes,” He rose from the bed, both hands dropping from his face. You couldn’t see his eyes, fist clutching your scrubs above your heart. Uncertainty. Terror, facing death like this. A monster stood before you, created by the devil himself. Tall, foreboding, chest heaving. His neck snapped upwards; wide, red eyes piercing into your thinly veiled soul. He spoke something like a garbled beast. “Promise me you’ll close your eyes.”

You didn’t respond. There were no words to be spoken. Between his pink lips glinted a pair of large, sharp incisors. “Promise!”

You reverberated with his words, wincing and shutting your eyes involuntarily. He didn’t want you to watch as he slaughtered you. “I-I promise!”

The loud clamor of metal colliding with the polished floor had you breaking your promise mere seconds after it’d been made.

He stood, illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs like an angel ascending to heaven. The bag, once an object you’d believed to be a healing beacon, clutched between clawed hands. His teeth, bare to the world, puncturing the thick plastic as though it were paper.

His adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically as he swallowed mouthfuls of thick, red blood. It was as if he’d been starved; knees buckling and desperate blood sucking so intense that his legs could no longer support his body weight. He knelt on the once clean floor.

The twine that connected your sense of reality and rationale had been pulled taut -- pieces of the frayed string snapping and threatening to drop you into depths unknown. Uncertainty had always been a foreign concept; you’d been given the option to study your circumstance and fully conceptualize it before going head first into a situation.

That’s what had intrigued you about being a nurse; though the job seemed like a bull in a china shop, you’d learned every reason why or how that bull ended up there and what exactly you needed to do to get it out.

You lacked the expertise or even the understanding to handle this particular situation. What studying could’ve been done? Reading horror stories or watching Twilight as a teenager with your friends? Even then, the probability of this happening to you felt like it should’ve been a zero percent chance.

You liked knowing what to do. Thrived on it, actually. This man, tall and dangerous, presented you with no opportunity to know. There was no textbook on how to handle a vampire, as childish as it felt to recognize that that’s what this was.

You’d been so sure. So convinced that there was no possibility of this heinous monster being an actual thing to walk the same crusted earth as you. Yet here he was, dawning the shape of a man and the face of an angel. How could someone so beautiful be so terrifying?

The hospital wall was cold against your back, the distant hammering of an organ that no longer felt placed in your chest rang true against your clenched fist. You felt the chilling call to move, to rise from your place and run. You didn’t know where, but the muscles in your thighs screamed a silent symphony.

He made quick work of the bag, like it was nothing and had never been anything in the first place. Who had donated that blood? They were probably asleep somewhere, lying in a bed and dreaming of a different world. A world where their charitable donation wasn’t being consumed by a devil before your terrified soul.

The red liquid oozed from his lips and dripped onto his barren chest. You hadn’t moved since you’d collided with the wall what felt like an eternity ago. Your ears rung rapidly with the obnoxious blood flow to your overstimulated brain.

Eyes the shade of a blue jay traced from a pair of blood soaked claws up towards your face, following the path of destruction. Though shock and fear reverberated through your every nerve, the softness in his gaze dulled a small part of your terror. He looked guilty, holding his dripping hands in front of his face like he’d just committed murder.

“You promised to close your eyes,” A voice so small, as if he’d known you your whole life and you had just witnessed a character altering situation. Something echoed in the back of his words, something that sounded like resentment. You couldn’t tell if it was directed at your prying eyes or himself.

“I- I didn’t, I mean, I tried not to but,” You were at a loss. A loss for a way to communicate how you were feeling, a loss for sanity in the world. The monster before you scowled, as if scolding a child who’d disobeyed their parent. “What are you?”

He brought his bloody hands to the floor; you noted that the claws were gone. “I figure it’s pretty obvious at this point. Can’t you tell?” He whispered.

“But vampires aren’t-” His steely gaze hardened at your choice of words. “They aren’t real, are they?”

“They are,” He responded, looking at you with such a strong emotion that you shifted uncomfortably against the wall. What was he thinking? Those eyes looked like they were fixed on someone he cared deeply for, not someone he’d met mere minutes ago. “But you weren’t supposed to know that, which is why I asked you not to open your eyes.”

“You started drinking a bag of blood right in front of me!” You whisper-yelled, brows knitting together to display your slight frustration. The wonder and fear still laid active in your chest, but something about him was familiar and comforting, despite his gruesome actions. You couldn’t explain exactly why you knew he would bring you no harm. “Of course I was going to open my eyes. If I’m not supposed to know, why would you do that right in front of me?”

His scowl deepened. “I tried to warn you. I haven’t had any blood in awhile and I lost control of myself.”

“What happens now?” Your question came out smaller than intended, unfamiliarity rising in your abdomen. The thick stench of blood was beginning to make your intestines twist in disgusting unease.

The question sought to strike a chord in the young man’s features; a grim and saddened look swept across his sharp attributes. His hand came up to pinch his temples, unperturbed by the bloody fingerprints left in its wake. “We have to get out of here, and fast. If we don’t, the people who are after me will kill you.”

“Kill me?” The word had a different sense of fear wafting over you; the kind that pricked your eyes with the sensation to shed tears. He looked pained. “I can tell them that I didn’t see anything, I can promise that I never saw you and-”

“It doesn’t work like that,” He snapped, glancing at you with irritation. His harsh tone forced your pleas to die unsaid in your throat. “The people following me aren’t rational. One of them will also be able to tell you’re lying.”

“So then, what am I supposed to do?” You cried, allowing the bottled up and suppressed emotions to spill over the thin wall of resolve that his comforting presence provided. He didn’t flinch but remained in serious tranquility. “I’m supposed to leave here and hit the road with some random man, who is a fucking vampire, and what? Hope for the best?”

He looked away from you, blood-covered face staring at the hospital bed that he’d once occupied. “It’s my fault you’re stuck in this now. I owe you enough to protect your life as best as I can.”

You were in hysterics. What sort of ultimatum was this? Stay and die or leave and risk dying? Another predicament that couldn’t be solved with the aid of literary education. Resentment was beginning to build in your own chest. Diving into an unexplored depth of the ocean, brimming with creatures and lore that you had never predicted to be real.

“Hey,” You snapped back to reality. The man before you scooted forwards slightly. Though his face was that of a devil, soaked in another’s blood and deathly pale, his movement had your chest tightening in something other than fear. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise, if you come with me, you’ll be safe until I can get them off our tail. Then I’ll take off and they’ll follow me, leaving you alone.”

Sticky tears trailed down your cheeks, eyes burning. When did you start crying? “How -- how can you be so sure? How can I trust you?”

He was on his hands and knees in front of you now, sharp nose half a foot away from your face. Any call to breathe was put on hold, teary eyes widening slightly at his stare. It was soft and open, trusting in the strangest way. His dark hair hung around his face.

“My goal is to rid the world of demons such as myself. That’s why they’re after me, and why they would take your life to guarantee silence. When I’m finished with what I want to accomplish, I will be dead and so will they. I have nothing to gain by hurting you. I promise to keep you alive long enough to see the end of this.”

Your lips parted in awe. The conviction in his tone was that to lead an entire army into battle; to create religions and cult followings. Blessed be the demon who wished to take down his own kind.

You had spent years convincing yourself to trust in what others told you to follow. Self-intuition wasn’t enough to breed a successful nurse; you needed the expertise of studies and procedures done before you. You required the necessary tools that others had used and approved of. Your heart’s certainty had no place in medicine. It had no place in the tried and true.

The man slowly rose one freezing hand towards your face, apprehensively watching for your reaction. You sat unmoving, owl-eyed. His palm caressed your chin, cold thumb swiping the tear from your cheek, smearing blood in its wake. “Find it in your heart to trust me.”

The conviction of his words rang lightning through your veins, mouth speaking without precedented thought. “Okay.”

He rose from his crouched position, offering a red hand to help you up from against the wall. You shook your head. There had been enough blood sharing for the evening, sanitation crossing your mind as you shakily slid along the rough plaster, bracing yourself to display a toughness that you weren’t sure you contained.

The rule of thumb not to trust those whom you don’t know played a soft melody in your heart. Mothers’ warnings and fathers’ lectures. Apparently all you had been told fell upon deaf ears, clouded with the hazy judgement of a life threatening situation. But in circumstances such as these, did the general rule apply? You were left to ponder.

“Hey, wait,” You frowned, a dumbfounded feeling crossing your mind as the man stepped towards the opposite side of the room. He stopped and turned, sharp jaw jutting against his mane. “What even is your name?”

“Oh,” He turned back towards the other side of the room. You didn’t follow. The door was the opposite direction, so whatever business he had over there did not concern you. “It’s Eren. And you?”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the confession of his name. It was beautiful, feeling somehow appropriate for his physical appearance. “It’s Y/N.”

“Ah,” He responded, as if he already knew. You scoffed inwardly at his tone, still anxiously pressed against the wall. His blood stained hand rose to the latch on the window, attempting to open it.

“Why are you opening the window?” You questioned, noticing a beep from out in the hallway. The door stood open, allowing passersby to witness the blood on the floor and your cheek, as well as this man called Eren, who appeared straight out of a horror movie.

Closing the wooden door meant deciding with certainty to trust him; to follow him and hope that whatever tales of murderous vampires he’d shared had been truthful. To step away from the knowledge and the comfort of your current life. It implied that no one would see you in there with him and come to your rescue.

They will kill you.

Your hand gently clicked the heavy door into its place.

Turning back to Eren, you noticed his hand wrapped around the latch to the window. He was frozen in place, watching you make your final choice.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You reiterated. Eren turned back towards the glass. His reflection wavered slightly in the shine.

“This is how we’re getting out of here,” Eren responded, pulling the latch and shoving the window open as far as it would go. It stopped at about two inches, for safety reasons.

Disbelief once again danced across your mind, pulling you into what was beginning to feel like a new equilibrium. “If you’re planning to leap out of that window, it only opens that far.”

He ignored you, bringing his bloodied palms up against the glass. It appeared as though he merely shoved it; so light that it shouldn’t have budged. It shouldn’t have moved at all. The heavy window snapped at its industrialized hinges, pummeling down towards the ground below.

He glanced at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised semi-smugly. You gawked back; simultaneously impressed by his strength as well as put off. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll die if I jump from here,” You scoffed, still not moving from your place. Eren stared back emotionlessly. He stepped towards the bed, reaching beneath it and pulling out what appeared to be a black hooded jacket.

He swung it over his shoulders, pulling the hood above his head. “I know. If you ride on my back, you won’t die.”

“Are you always this mundanely serious about fucking supernatural shit like this?” You spat. There was a warmth beginning to settle in your face as well as your core; heated by the idea of being so close to him.

“Yes,” He retorted, walking towards you so quickly you thought your head would start spinning. “No time to waste with your endless questions.”

He reached down, abruptly swooping you up from behind your thighs, effectively gripping you bridal style.

“Eren, put me down. Put me down!” You started squirming as he thundered towards the open window. You hated heights as much as the next person; they were fine in retrospect, but made you dizzy when in close proximity. Eren seemed unbothered by your quiet cries of protest.

“Eren, I swear to god,” You brought your fist to his broad chest. He ignored you, stepping onto the ledge of the window. Against any better judgement you still retained, your eyes glanced towards the drop. Your stomach sank, becoming a heavy boulder in the bottom of your abdomen. “Fuck, put me down!”

He stared down at you. A gaze so tranquil that the rest of the scene seemed to fade away. You became hyper-aware of his bare chest which you were pressed against; that unfamiliar churning in your core spreading towards your limbs.

“Hold still, or I’ll drop you.”

☤ ☤ ☤

next chapter >>

tagging: @sunshinedragonofthewest @ryukatters

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #vampire eren #eren jeager #Eren Yaeger #eren jaeger smut #bloodlust series #emmy writes #eren jaeger x y/n

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pleasantanathema · 5 years ago

Text

Wet Pleasures

Fandom: BNHA

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hitoshi Shinsou

Tags: dom!Shinsou, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, bondage

Word Count: ~7k

“You’re such a good girl,” He mused, his other hand drifting down your arm, thumb dangerously close to the outline of your breast, “you never tell me no.”

You shook your head faintly in agreement, your eyes drawn to the beautiful muscles of his body that you had yet to see before.

“If you don’t tell me no right now, kitty, I’m going to do very naughty things with you.”

Request for dubliinwaltz

It was late, far too late to still be at the hero agency you worked for, and especially far too late to be taking a shower in the locker room. But, there you stood, frustrated and wet. You wanted to be home, curled up in your bed and reading your favorite book, but you were still trying to scrub your hair and body clean from the incident you had earlier in the day.

Sometimes you forgot just how gross some quirks could be. But you were rudely reminded earlier when a villain you had been chasing chose to smother you in grey goo from his fingertips. You could feel the goo begin to crack and harden against your skin as you ran, matting into your hair and folding into the creases of your body. You had to wipe globs from your eyes and nose, unfortunately flicking the substance towards unsuspecting bystanders as you flashed by them. While you and your partner hadn’t stopped your pursuit, inwardly you had wanted to scream and use your quirk to actually kill this guy and end everything there and then. But you resisted that urge, and thankfully your partner was incredibly adept at capturing people.

You could hear your partner sighing in similar discontent in a shower adjacent to yours. Shinsou was cursing rather loudly, mumbling profanities into the steam.

“Are you okay, Shinsou?” You called out forcefully, hoping that he could hear you over the pounding of hot shower water against the cold tiles.

You caught the grumble of a very angry affirmative.

He cleared his throat, sighing stridently, “Actually…do you have any good shampoo? Mine isn’t cutting it for this stupid fucking goo.”

You looked down at your feet, glancing over the contents of your little shower caddy. You had only showered at work a few times before, but fortunately your previous times had encouraged you to buy a few travel sized bottles and fill them with your favorite soaps. You plucked one from its home, twirling it in your fingers as you remembered that this particular shampoo was for thick hair, which would probably help Shinsou’s lavender locks.

“Yea, heads up!” You tossed the little bottle over the white brick wall that separated the showers. You listened to hear if it clattered to the floor, but the lack of sound suggested that Shinsou had caught your throw.

While some partners would’ve found it very odd to be showering in such close proximity, you and Shinsou were a little different than most. You were very comfortable around one another and had been from the start of your time working together nearly a year ago. But, there was also something about Hitoshi Shinsou that had you absolutely pining for him. He was inconceivably clever, and his keen intellect impressed you, especially when he used that wit to craft jokes that made you both chuckle. But aside from his charm, it was the mystery of him that had you thinking about him for far too long while in bed. Despite being so relaxed around one another, he didn’t open up much about his personal life, or really any very personal thoughts.

Despite his aloofness, you did everything you could to please your partner. You never told him no, not like you ever really needed to, but everything inside of you trusted him and wanted to submit to him. He was powerful and you were drawn to him like a kitten to a new curiosity.

You closed your eyes for a moment, running your hands over your skin, wondering what his would feel like instead of your own.

You heard another very frustrated grunt from the neighboring shower.

“Ugh, now I smell like flowers.”

His complaint had you giggling to yourself as you continued to use a loofah and scrub at the undersides of your arms and behind your knees, and all the other nooks and crannies that this goo had decided to claim as a home. While the warm water still felt like a soothing blanket to your skin, your long time spent scrubbing had the soles of your feet aching against the rough tiles. You groaned, just wanting desperately to get clean. You stretched your toes, and soon you yawned, stretching your arms up and over your head. That’s when you felt the skin of your back crinkle in a very strange, and sticky, way. You stopped stretching and began trying to touch the skin of your middle back, but unfortunately there was a spot that you couldn’t quite reach. Undoubtedly, your back was still in need of cleaning.

You cried out loudly in annoyance, head falling back and eyes closing as you let the shower water splash across the front of your body. Your desperation must’ve been made clear, as you heard the adjacent shower curtain rustle.

Shinsou cleared his throat and the sound was closer than you expected. You peeked over your shoulder, finding only his head visible from around the wall. Soap suds still littered his indigo hair, and his expression mimicked the aggravation of your own. You suddenly blushed, realizing he was currently able to see all of your backside. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your breasts, maintaining eye contact with your partner.

“Um,” he started, eyes darting away momentarily, “do you need help washing this shit off?”

You sighed in defeat, nodding your head.

“Yea. Do you?”

“I can’t even get it out of my own hair.”

He dipped back around the wall and you heard the creak of the knob as he turned off his shower. You began to breath more quickly, realizing that very soon he was going to be here, with you, in your space, in this shower, naked. You shook your head, hands running across your face under the fall of the water. Sure, the two of you had changed into your hero costumes many times before in this very locker room, but you’d never really seen each other fully nude. Your limits of comfortability with your partner were about to possibly reach their limit.

“There’s a spot on your back, you know.”

You let out another very exasperated sigh.

“Yea, I know. Can you…?”

“Of course.”

Your back was still to him as he approached you in the shower. Casually, you handed your loofah to him over your shoulder, and he took it gently, fingers brushing over your knuckles. His other hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you as he began to rub at your back. His grip on your skin was delicate yet firm, large hand enveloping your arm. He kept a comfortable distance between your bodies, staying a step back so he could work at the crusted goo upon your skin. You reached forward and turned the temperature up in the shower, hoping to blame the heat of the water and steam for the redness of your cheeks and not him.

You let out a groan of satisfaction when you felt something heavy peel off the skin of your back. His continued to scrub at the spot, but now more lightly, like he was rinsing off the remaining residue of the substance. You then felt the wisp of the loofah back on your shoulder, and he tapped you with it to get you to take it back. As you wrapped the dangling strap of the puff around your fingers, you assumed he was finished, but then you felt his hand on your back.

“Why is this shit so stubborn?” He grumbled, using the tip of his nail to scrape at the portion of skin between your shoulder blades.

Shinsou had been equally as frustrated with all this mess as you. Not only had the motherfucker you two had been chasing cover you both with his nasty quirk, he had coated Shinsou’s capturing weapon to filth. What he wouldn’t admit to you was the true reason he was struggling to clean off himself in the shower: he had been sitting over there diligently scrubbing the cloth of his weapon and tired himself out. Even now, the scarf like tool was pooled into a heap on the shower tiles, forlorn and still stained with dark spots.

Instead of continuing to deal with this situation on his own, he had hoped you would be willing to help him. You always were, and he had taken notice that you hardly ever said no to him, which was something he found very appealing. He wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that not only did he find you particularly attractive, he found you alluring and very compatible to himself and his…wants and needs, so to say.

Shinsou liked a woman who would do whatever he asked, which was only natural, given his quirk. And he had an inkling that you wanted him to tell you what to do more often.

He had successfully cleaned your back, so he took a moment look over you before continuing with bathing. He took both of your arms in his hands now, gingerly skimming his palms down to your elbows as his wandering eyes marveled over your beautiful back and plump backside. He was taller than you, and it gave him a great vantage point to peer over your shoulders to the front of your body. He could smell the sweetness of your skin, your scent filling the steamy air like a billowing aroma. If only he could just taste you, oh the sinful things he’d—

“Hitoshi?” your easy voice brought him from his thoughts, “are you done staring? I need to wash your hair.”

He grinned at the lax in your tone, delighted to know that you were aware of his gaze. He moved forward, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders from behind, his embrace open and lazy, contented even.

“Can I at least get a thank you, dear partner of mine?”

He nestled his chin against your wet hair, and you could imagine the grin on his face.

“Thank you, Hitoshi.” You grumbled it, but still you smiled.

Shinsou slipped around your side, lean and towering body shifting to be in front of yours. The width of his body took over the spray of the water, leaving you cold and damp behind him. For an instant, you marveled over the muscled planes of his back, but chose not to stare like he had earlier. You reached up, standing on your toes as you raked hand through his wet hair. Somehow, despite being wet, much of his hair still seemed unruly and thick. It appeared dark blue now, with soap suds still dripping off the long strands. A few strands still were colored grey from the mysterious gunk, but not too many.

“Rinse the old shampoo out and I’ll try another.”

“Bossy, bossy.” He quipped, bringing his hands to his hair and scrubbing.

You reached into your shower caddy once more, picking the entire thing up and searching through it for anything that could help. You found a bottle of hair oil, still mostly full. You shrugged, hoping that perhaps it could help along with more shampoo.

Returning to Shinsou’s back, you sighed, looking up at the expanse of hair upon his head. You’d have to be on your toes the whole time to reach the strands, but you could handle it. You mixed some of the oil and shampoo in your palms, once again stretching up to reach his head. You lathered your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to pull at the pieces still stained from the goo on the back of his head that he definitely couldn’t have seen earlier.

He hummed softly as your delicate fingers massaged at his head. He had definitely made the right decision asking for help, especially now that he could feel your body brush up against his back and shoulders as you attempted to clean him. He almost shuddered when he felt your breasts press up against his skin, nipples hard and skating across his wet back.

Shinsou realized you were struggling to stay on your toes. He went to lean forward and bend down to alleviate your straining feet and calves, but his movement threw you off balance. He audibly hissed as your fingers wound themselves into his hair, clutching at him as you tried not to fall backwards on the slippery floor.

“Fuck, kitten, easy with the claws.”

Your other hand came to his arm, nails digging into his skin for purchase as you steadied yourself. You shook your head as you regained your sense of self on your feet. Then, you blushed, your brain recognizing the words he had just said. Kitten?Oh, oh that name sounded so sensual coming from his lips. You almost wanted to say something about it, but you assumed he misspoke—he never called you that, at least not to your face.

“I’m sorry, just don’t fucking move again and I won’t fall.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, peering over his shoulder, though he couldn’t quite glimpse you.

You went back to working at his hair, mindful not to pull at him again. It took a few minutes, but eventually you worked most of the crusted gunk from his hair. A few times you pressed your palm to his head, forcing him forward to wet his hair more under the shower, which made him sputter and grumble as water dripped across his face. Hey, he asked for this, and cleaning his thick hair wasn’t an easy task. Eventually, his gorgeous locks felt clean and smooth in your hands, finally free of any lingering mess.

You scanned his back, finding a few grey flecks. You used your nails to chip the substance off his pale skin, now made more pink and flushed under the heat of the shower. He hummed as you worked at him, eyes closing in delight at your touch. He wondered how far he could push you, if he could ask for more. He already had you with him, in the shower, naked, washing him, surely a little more wouldn’t push you away.

He called your name softly, and you stopped touching his back, standing up straight and still.

“Yes?” Your voice was quiet, almost meek in his presence.

“Can I touch you?”

An awkward moment of silence ticked by, but before you even thought about it, your mouth stammered out an answer that your brain didn’t screen for approval.

“Of course.”

You said it matter-of-factly, subconsciously confirming to yourself that telling him no just really wasn’t an option. Every fiber of your being wanted to please him. You could feel your gut stir with butterflies, explodingbutterflies, as he turned around, the two of you coming face to face in the shower. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. You peered up at him with glossy eyes that trailed over the small perfections of his face.

“You’re such a good girl,” He mused, his other hand drifting down your arm, thumb dangerously close to the outline of your breast, “you never tell me no.”

You shook your head faintly in agreement, your eyes drawn to the beautiful muscles of his body that you had yet to see before.

“If you don’t tell me no right now, kitty, I’m going to do very naughty things with you.”

Your mouth opened before you realized, “please,” you sounded breathless.

He leaned down, mouth trailing close to your own, tongue licking at left over water droplets on your cheek. You felt like melting against him.

“Please what? I like when you use your words.”

A gulp was caught in your throat, mind reeling over the turn of events. You wondered for a moment if this was even happening, perhaps your daydreams were becoming a little realistic. But then you felt his warm tongue against your skin again, and you knew that this was real. You moaned loudly, eyes closing as you gathered your confidence. His palm dipped low to cup your breast, squeezing it gently, like he was testing your resolve.

“Please touch me, Hitoshi.”

His tongue snaked between your lips then, mouth covering your own in a searing kiss. He groaned against your lips at your command, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. Your mind was overwhelmed with thoughts as you tried to make sense of every new sensation that was sending your nerves running wild. His lips on yours were dreamy and lazy, like he was kissing to taste you and drink you in. His body was warmer than yours, with hot water threading down the soft expanses of skin. You could hear the roaring sound of the water splashing against cool tiles, rumbling echoes of the splatters sounding around the darkened, empty locker room. You moaned as you felt his fingertips grip into your sides, one large palm still encircled around your sensitive breast. Your body curved against his, stomachs pressed together, and his muscles were lean and hard. He felt like some kind of divine being, raised from the sea and finally hearing your desperate cries for attention.

After a few moments of holding you, tongues gliding over one another like shifting tides, Shinsou’s kiss shifted from languid to ravenous. You gasped as you felt his hands tighten around your body, gripping hard enough to bruise. The hand on your breast began tugging and pinching at your nipple roughly. Your lewd groan at his ministration had him smirking against your lips. A hardness was pressing against your thigh now, making your cheeks redden as you realized his cock was responding to your body.

He used his hold on you to turn you around, placing your frigid body back under the warm spray of the shower. You slicked the hair away from your eyes as you stood before him, the water and steam pouring over your figure. He grinned roguishly at the sight, hand reaching forward and cupping your chin, keeping your eyes on his.

“Get on your knees,” he whispered, authority laced between the words.

You nodded quickly, taking a step back and sinking to your knees in worship.

You tried to keep your eyes to his, but his beautiful, silken cock was now just above your line of sight, the head brushing against your brow. Your eyes widened at the sight. He was big and glorious, damp violet hairs kissing the base. He curved ever so slightly, ever so deliciously, and you licked your lips in anticipation. He fisted his cock, and you sat up straighter and to attention. He brushed the head against your cheeks, marveling at the lustful look on your face.

“You look so pretty all wet, kitty.”

Heat rose to your cheeks again, tickling up to your ears, making them burn.

“I like that name,” you murmured, eyes fluttering up at him.

Fuck, he groaned to himself, cock twitching in his hand. You were so perfect below him like that, supple mouth just waiting to taste him. You’d be the death of him if you continued to look at him that way and say words like that. He could already feel his core constricting into a tight coil at just the sight of you.

“You’re my little pet now,” he nudged his cock against your lips, feeling your tongue tentatively lap against him. He pushed in a little deeper, finding the cavern of your mouth somehow warmer and wetter than his surroundings.

“Yes sir,” you mumbled it against his cock, the vibrations tinging down his skin. He fisted one hand into your wet hair, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. Eagerly, you complied, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as you dipped your head further down his shaft. You both moaned simultaneously. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his cock, keeping him moist and slick between your hollowing cheeks. His girth made it difficult to venture too far down, and you began to readjust your jaw, opening your mouth as wide as possible to fit him.

You set a brisk pace, fervent to feel him deeper in your mouth. He helped to guide you, fingers weaving between the strands of your hair and his strength encouraging you to take as much of him as possible. You groaned and gulped against him, tongue swirling with each plunge of your head. You could feel the thick veins of his cock against your tongue and cheeks, the wide head skimming against the back of your throat. You closed your eyes against the running water, finger nails nipping into the skin of his thighs as you controlled your gag reflex. You had never had such a large cock in your mouth before and it felt sinful just how far he stretched your cheeks.

“Oh kitten,” he groaned out, making your thighs press together in anticipation. His voice was low and succulent, growls continually ripping from his chest. His sounds invigorated you to please him more. You took all of him into your mouth, gasping as he slid down your throat. Your nose was buried in that violet hair at the base of his cock, bumping against his skin. A tumble of curses spilled from his lips, the hand in your hair tightening as you pulled back and repeated to the motion, saliva slipping from your lips to be washed away by the spray of the shower.

He kept you between his legs for a while, captivated by watching your sweet mouth swallow up the whole of his cock. The feel of your tongue swirling around the head of his cock with nearly every thrust of your head had him panting for more. And then your eyes opened again, water dampening your lashes as you caught his gaze as you nearly choked on his cock. He almost lost it then, using his hand to pull you from his cock before he became too rough with your lips.

“Fuck,” he hissed, cock throbbing as it once against rested against your face, “you be a good girl and stay right there.”

You almost questioned him, but you were trying to catch your breath and couldn’t find your voice. He stepped from the shower, leaving you on your knees. You sunk down closer to the floor, hands against your thighs as you took deep breaths under the deluge of the warm streams of water.

Shinsou returned quickly, his damp capturing weapon laced around his arm.

Oh fuck, you thought, looking up at him like a lost lamb. He lifted his lavender eyes to scan the ceiling. You sat patiently, breasts heaving with breaths, the heat between your thighs growing as you thought about what he could be thinking. You’d be lying if you said you had never thought of the terribly dirty things he could do to someone—to you—with that weapon of his, and now he stood before you with it, naked and smirking.

“Now let’s get you off the floor.”

Before you could even blink, you felt the carbon fibers of his weapon wrap around your arms, hoisting you up into the air as the other end of the fabric looped over a steel beam from the ceiling. Your arms were tethered together above your head, dangling you above the floor and close to the back of the shower. Your body was still bouncing in gravity from his first action when he sent two more strands of the weapon to envelop your legs, pulling them apart and fastening the ends of the ribbons to the beam in the ceiling as well. You cried out in surprise at his rapid movements, effectively trapped and spread before him.

Shinsou laughed at how easy you were to capture, but soon his eyes darkened as he soaked in the image before him. You looked perfect and delectable, dewy skin glistening against the binding of his weapon. He had thought of tying you up like this dozens of times before, even daydreamed about it when you trained together after work. He always felt a little twinge in his cock whenever he swung you from his weapon during missions, and he imagined binding more than just the occasional wrist or arm.

He stepped towards your suspended body, reaching behind you to turn off the shower. He planned to keep you like this for as long as he could, no need to waste water. He skimmed his fingers up your legs, capturing a calf with his hand. He experimentally pulled on your body, watching your breasts bounce as the fabric allowed you to move only slightly.

“This is perfect,” he mused, eyes dropping to between your legs, “oh fuck, kitten, what a pretty pussy you’ve been hiding from me.”

You let out a small mewl at his words, desperate to touch him. You had barely gotten to explore his skin beyond his cock, and you wanted to hold onto him and feel him against you. You struggled against your captive binds for a moment, arms pulling at the weapon suspended above your head.

“You know how this works; you’re not getting out of these ties until I say so.”

You let out a huff, but you were quickly distracted from your binds when a slim finger unexpectedly slid between your folds.

“Fuck! Oh, Shinsou—.”

“It’s sir, from now on. You understand?” He emphasized his point by flicking his knuckle across your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure across your suspended body.

You nodded ardently, eyes closing at the pleasure.

“Words, kitty.” He tittered.

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Mhm, good girl,” he smirked, watching your head fall back as he brought another finger to your pussy, dancing them playfully between your folds. His eyes watched your stunning breasts rise and fall with your heavy breaths, and he brought his other hand back to the breast he toyed with earlier. He rolled your nipple between his fingertips, pinching and pulling at it roughly. He delighted in the moans that tumbled from your parted lips. He dipped one finger into your sopping pussy, feeling your walls stretch and twitch around the digit. He slid it in and out of you with agonizing slowness, relishing how tight you were just around one finger.

Heat was spreading across your lower belly like a fire, his finger stroking the flames. His hold on your nipple didn’t cease, he continued to pull and tease it as he finally added a second finger into you. You couldn’t help but cry out wantonly, and with the deafening roar of the shower gone, just your voice rang out against the cold walls. He curled his fingers expertly within you, continuing a slow and sensual pace.

He was watching you keenly, observing how lewdly you responded to the simplest of his touches.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” He chuckled, feeling your pussy tighten around his slow and steady fingers.

“Yes, sir,” you admitted breathlessly.

He only gave an appreciative hum in response, fingers picking up their pace inside of you. Your captured legs twitched at his antics, toes feeling cold and forlorn in their suspended state. His thumb began to circle your clit, sending bewildering shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You whined noisily, tugging a lip between your teeth at the searing pleasure of it all. He relinquished his grip on your nipple, choosing to instead soothe and cup your breast in his large hand. His fingers continued to curl up into your body, spread wide just for him. They were long and slender, perfectly twisting against the most pleasurable spots inside of you. He was confident in his actions, and the steady assurance of his fingers had you pining for him.

“Please, sir,” you whispered, head sill lolled back, “more.”

“Hm,” he pondered, “are you just a greedy little girl, or do you like it rough?”

His fingers didn’t cease their actions, persistently plunging into your hot core. He spread them slightly, and you could feel your walls stretch and give at his actions.

“I’ll be whatever you want,” you breathed out, puling your head up to catch his gaze once more. His purple eyes were dark like shadows in the night. His thumb glided wickedly against your clit, fanning the embers of your ecstasy even hotter and higher than before. A shriek of pleasure erupted from your chest, a lusty haze settling over your mind. You squeezed your core, body attempting to move against his fingers. But as soon as you attempted to move against your bindings, he stopped, slipping his fingers from within you.

You were panting, about to start begging, when those dark eyes narrowed at you.

“And what if I want you to be mine?”

You quiet, almost speechless, his words like the most sinful temptation. He wrapped the fingers that were once inside you around your throat. The scent of your arousal permeated his skin, your slick sticky against your neck. He watched you, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“Then I’m yours.”

He hummed again, his other hand wrapping around your tied thigh. You could feel the swollen head of his cock brush against your folds, making you shudder. Your wet skin was still cooling, but the heat from inside of you made you feel like you were steaming.

“I don’t know if you understand the weight of those words.”

“I do,” you said quickly, eyes scanning his face, “I promise.”

Without warning, he slammed himself inside of you, eliciting another blissful scream from your lungs. He groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, feeling your round ass pressing against his thighs.

He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feel of your pussy clenching and stretching around him.

“You know, I think you’ve been mine for a long time, partner.” He said the words weightily, authority resounding in his voice.

You could only nod your head in response, hips burning from both his sudden intrusion and unbridled lust. He began to pound forcefully into you, fingers bruising your legs between the bindings. He tied you at the perfect height for his cock to sink into you deliciously and powerfully. Every thrust sent waves of euphoria blossoming from your core, your body unable to do anything but react to his movements. Your breasts bounded with every thrust, and his eyes were glued to the picturesque, moist globes as they swayed for him. Your head once again lost the battle of staying upright, reclining back to hang at his mercy.

With your throat now exposed, he leaned forward, biting and kissing at your delicate skin. You gasped, the pain of his teeth melding with the pleasure of his huge cock spreading you. You felt dangerously full of him, like any push of his cock could rip you open. His heavy hands slid from your thighs to were your ass cheeks, pressing and kneading into the flesh violently. His merciless thrusting had you breathless, gasping for air every time the head of his cock slammed back into you.

“Where’d all those pretty words go, kitty? I wanna hear you…” he growled against the skin of your neck, lips melting into the juncture of your jaw. His teeth sunk deeper this time, causing you to cry out at the concoction of sensations you felt spreading across your body.

“Shinsou, s-sir,” your voice stammered between thrusts, “you feel so, so good, ah, don’t stop, please!”

He picked up his pace, cock hammering into you ruthlessly, undoubtedly bruising your soft, tantalizing skin. He forced your body against him, one hand wrapping around the cloth bindings and using the leverage to keep you against him. Your nails began to bite into your hands, intense pleasure brewing inside of you. The sound of skin against skin saturated the locker room, your moans echoing off the shower walls. Your breasts were pressed to his muscular chest now, sliding against the light dusting of hair found there. You fought to keep your mouth from falling agape, but the intensity of him had your lips parting and incessantly moaning for him.

“Such a naughty, desperate little girl, huh? You like being stuffed with my cock like this?”

“Yes, fuck,” he licked a long, hot stripe up your throat, panting mouth resting at your chin, “yes, sir, I love being tied up…”

He chuckled then, angling his hips to hit you deeper and harder, one hand leaving your ass and snaking up your back to pull at your dripping hair. He pulled hard and fast against the strands of your hair, arching your body as it could against his chest. You squealed at the smarting of your scalp, but were too overwhelmed with the throbbing of your stretched pussy to care. The pain heightened your senses, and you felt every deep plunge of his cock hit harder, more extreme than before.

“Oh I knew you would, every little kitty likes to play with string, right?”

You couldn’t nod your head for the grip he had on your hair. You screamed out for him, completely lost to your ecstasy as his devilish words had you edging towards true bliss. He continued to tug at your locks, enjoying every ounce of control and power he had over your body; and he didn’t even have to use his quirk, you’d do anything for him without his influence. This realization had him hardening even more inside of you, cock thumping with more blood as he shoved into your silken walls.

He could feel your body start to tighten around him, your strung up legs beginning to shake. He grinned knowingly, slipping his other hand from your ass to your stomach, then dipping lower to your aching clit. He hovered his thumb over the bundle of nerves, letting each thrust of his cock allow your clit to skim just perfectly over the pad of his finger. You moaned louder than before, desperate to feel the bubble of pleasure burst from inside of you. But he wasn’t ready for that.

“You want to come, kitty?”

“Yes, sir, p-please, please.”

“Then I want you to work for it.”

Confusion washed over your mind and body as you felt his cock pull away, leaving you open and empty without him. You yelped in discontent, body struggling against your bindings in a vain attempt to free yourself and bring him back to you. He stepped back, eyes trailing over every detailed of your flushed, used body, tied up like a plaything for him. He was saving the picturesque scene in his mind. He pumped his cock a few times with his hand, finding it smothered in your own slick.

With just a motion of his fingers, your legs came untied, tumbling down to the feat of gravity. But he didn’t release your arms. Instead, he came and sat below you on the tiles, back pressed to the wall of the shower with his lean, muscled thighs stretching out against the floor. His cock was rigid and hard, pressed up against his stomach like it was straining to reach you. He waved his fingers again, the ties around the steel beam loosening enough to drop your body into his lap, legs spread over his own. But he kept your hands tied securely above your head, leaving you without the ability to touch him.

“Sit on my cock, kitty, I want to kiss you while you work.”

You did as he commanded, sinking yourself onto his stiff, thick cock, eyes fluttering closed at the immense pleasure of being so full again. Your legs trembled, having just gotten their agency back and still numb from being tied. But you pushed through the lingering pain, desperate to please him. You rocked your hips slowly, letting him slip completely inside of you once more. The new position had his perfect cock hitting you in all new ways, sending new jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Shinsou cupped both your breasts in his hands, using them as leverage to encourage you to rock harder and faster in his lap. His lips found yours again, tongue lapping against yours in a battle of dominance that he all too easily won. You felt the entire length of him slip from inside of you, only to slam back and fill you once again. The ecstasy overwhelmed you, knees slipping against the wet tiles. He kept his firm grip on your bouncing breasts, his strength and his capture weapon the only things keeping you upright in his lap.

From this angle, your clit brushed against the violet curls at the base of his cock, stimulating you and emboldening you to roll faster against him, fraught to find your release. The coil in your belly was ready to burst, and his passionate mouth against your own was soaking up all the wanton moans you exhaled into him.

But soon your own pace wasn’t enough for him. As much as he loved a show, he also needed his own release, and nothing set him on edge more than having full control. His big hands slid down from your breasts to your hips, using his might to lift your body in his own and thrust his hips up into your sweltering heat at a faster, more brutal pace. You broke from his lips with a scream, and the sound of his own grunts had your eyes opening to see him.

His head was dipped back against the wall, eyes closed and lips just barely parted. His damp indigo hair was tussled into wild plumes, curving over his thick neck and expertly corded shoulders. He looked like a god below you, and felt divine within you. His thumb swirled against your clit again, and the unexpected touch had you exploding into euphoria.

“That’s right, kitty,” his eyes opened then, lust simmering within them as he caught your gaze, “I want you to come for me now.”

The circles of his thumb quickened, his cock still mercilessly pounding up into your core. You could feel the broad head moving against your insides, veins protruding even more noticeably than before. You felt like a toy in his hands, like his cock was too big for you and he still kept hammering himself into you for his own pleasure.

Finally, you came, screams rippling from your throat and eyes closing as you allowed the waves of euphoria to wash over your body, every single nerve ending exploding with ecstasy and pleasure in intensities you had never felt before. Your walls struggled to clench around his massive cock, the fluttering of your insides lasting longer and longer as your body writhed in white hot heat. His cock never slowed, and your bouncing body was continually thrown over the orgasmic ledge, nerves trying to find purchase against the onslaught of his hips. Your hands were wrapped into fists around the binding above your head, gripping like you were trying to keep yourself afloat amidst the sea of ecstasy that your body was being tossed into.

You ultimately came down from your high, body limp as he fucked up into you. With a satisfied sigh, you called out to him, “Hitoshi…”

Your weak voice, and the image before him of your listless body riding upon his cock, had him tumbling over his own edge. He rasped out your name as he came, hot ropes of thick cum spilling inside of you. His cock throbbed and pulsated inside your womb, his lungs panting for breath as his fingertips gripped into your sweaty, damp skin. His chest heaved, shoulders slumping in bliss as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

You both sat against the cold tiles, breathing hard and letting your minds come back to earth. Your head was slumped down in front of your body, hair pooling around your cheeks and his chest. The fabric of his capture weapon was the only thing keeping you from sinking into him. His cock was still hard and hot within you.

After a few moments, one of his hands left your hips, reaching up to grab your chin and pull your head up to look at him. He smirked at you, glancing over the already blooming bruises he left on your breasts, your hips, and the broken, purple skin on your throat from his bite.

“Fuck, kitty, you really took a beating. Are you feeling okay?”

You laughed, straightening your shoulders and pulling your body up by gripping the ribbons, legs twitching against his thighs.

“I feel great,” your voice was weak, but your smile was beaming as you chuckled, “we should probably shower and clean up, don’t you think?”

He laughed, kissing your lips kindly as he released your aching arms. He helped you stand, marveling over how strong your body must have been to withstand his fucking and his bindings. You stretched like the little cat that you were, waking up all the muscles that had gone dormant.

You both rinsed off quickly, grabbing towels and finally drying your bodies.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said nonchalantly, like he was expecting you to know what he meant.

You continued to get dressed and thought for a moment, thinking back through the hot haze of memories. Your mouth fell open in realization.

“You want me to be yours?”

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had and I’ve had my eye on you for a while. You don’t have to say yes right now, but maybe another good fuck could convince you.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, letting him lean down and kiss you. You relished in the taste of him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your fingers through the hair you had so carefully washed.

“Yea, another good fuck wouldn’t hurt.”

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#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #mha imagines #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha shinsou #my hero academia shinsou #shinso x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha smut #shinsou smut

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years ago

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Nothing But A Fuckboy

(Isaac Lahey x Reader)

Request: I loved the Isaac imagine!! U write so well! I was wondering if u could maybe do another one where he’s a fuck boy but there’s a happy ending.

Word count: 2,509

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of smut

Notes: thank u so much for the compliment!! I love writing for Isaac he’s such a complex bby

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Your eyes narrowed over the plastic cup in your hands as you took a long swig of your drink. You instantly pulled it away with a grimace, the bitter liquid burning your throat as you swallowed it. Someone brushed against your side as they squeezed through the crowd, making you jerk your attention away from Isaac.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was grinding against that girl from your chemistry class was making your stomach twist and you couldn’t decide which one of them you wanted to punch more.

Your eyes flickered over his broad shoulders, partially covered by his favorite scarf, before gliding down to the place where his hands skimmed along her hips. Your jaw tightened as a recent memory flashed through your mind.

A surprised yelp escaped you as Isaac pushed your back against his bedroom wall. His lips attacked yours instantly, and you wasted no time in wrapping around arms around his neck to pull him closer.

For some reason, the two of you kept getting paired together in class, and were supposed to be working on a project right now. This was your third attempt at finishing it, actually, but you always ended up in some variation of tangled limbs instead.

A quiet moan rumbled through your chest as his long fingers gripped your hips and lifted you without effort. Your legs wrapped around him for support, his tongue exploring your mouth in a way that had quickly become familiar.

“Y/N, this is so pathetic.”

You jumped at the sudden presence beside you, your head jerking to the side to glare at your best friend, Lydia, as she stared at you with her glossed lips pursed judgmentally.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” You defended, glancing in his direction again—only to see that he was now gone—before bringing your attention back to her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning closer so that you could hear her over the blaring music. “Just talk to him.”

“Did you somehow forget that I hate his guts?” You scoffed, forcing down another gulp of your drink. If you were going to be at the same party all night, you’d need a little liquid courage to pull you through.

“Did you forget that two days ago?” Lydia’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose expectantly.

You felt your cheeks prickle with heat, regret washing over you for ever telling her about the recent hookup. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. He was bad news. But there was something about his icy blue eyes that drew you in whenever he was near.

Isaac was a lot of things, but a god guy was not one of them. He was mysterious and unobtainable, a dangerous combination for a girl like you. You’d slept with him three times now, and had basically nothing to show for it. The two of you barely spoke at school, aside from chemistry class when you had to do partner work.

“It was a momentary lapse in judgement.” You mumbled, trying to hide the blush overtaking your face with the now half empty cup in your hands.

Lydia’s red lips parted as if she were going to argue, until she seemingly thought better of it and huffed in annoyance instead. “Whatever. Just find something else to do, because you standing here like a creep is seriously ruining the vibe.”

Your jaw dropped in offense at her snide remark, but she twirled around and walked away before you could say anything. You frowned before downing the rest of your drink. You knew she was right. You couldn’t just stand around watching him with other girls all night.

The worst part is that you knew nothing would come of your hookups, but that hadn’t stopped you from being a more than willing participant. You weren’t the kind of girl that usually had casual sex—although you admired those that were—but you just found it utterly impossible to resist Isaac.

You turned around, determined to find one of your other friends that was surely around somewhere, but reeled back as you slammed right into a broad chest. The reminants of your drink splashed out of your cup, coating your white blouse in a dark purple liquid. A jumbled apology died on your lips as your eyes flickered up toward the last face you wanted to see right now.

“Damn, Y/N. I didn’t think I could get you wet that quickly.” Isaac’s lips quirked into the signature smirk that never failed to raise your heartbeat.

Your jaw tightened as your fingers clutched the cup in your hand tight enough to snap the thin plastic. “This is my favorite shirt.”

His hooded eyes trailed down from your face, very obviously lingering on your now visible hot pink bra. The look on his face—the easily recognizable hunger behind his eyes—had another memory snapping to the forefront of your mind.

Isaac’s eyes widened fractionally as you slid the sweater over your head, exposing your favorite bralette. You may or may not have worn it to your study date just incase something like this happened. His long fingers instantly slid beneath the thin, lacy material before pulling it off in one fluid motion.

He let out a tortured groan, his hands moving to cup your exposed breasts. Your head tilted back as a shuddering breath escaped you when he tweaked one of your nipples gently.

“God, these tits. How have I never noticed these before?” He breathed just before closing his lips around your right nipple, expertly lapping at the sensitive bud.

“Okay, asshole.” You quipped, trying and failing to sound upset through your moan of pleasure.

You felt him smirk against you, an involuntary whine leaving you as he pulled back. His eyes, usually ice cold, where blazing with lust as he looked at you, and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I mean,” His attention finally moved back to your angry face. “This is a clothing optional party.”

You glowered at him, completely unamused. This really was your favorite shirt, and it was probably stained forever now. You honestly had no idea what was in the juice the boys had made for this party, but the dark liquid was already becoming one with your shirt. A frown pulled at your lips as you pinched the drenched material and peeled it away from your body.

Your head snapped upward at the feeling of an arm snaking around your shoulders. You barely processed that you were moving before your eyes landed on the side of Isaac’s face as he guided you through his house. You tried protesting, but your words fell on deaf ears, the music way too loud to hear even your own thoughts in this part of the house.

He weaved you through the dense crowd of half naked gyrating bodies until you reached a door just beside the staircase. He practically shoved you inside the small room, slamming the door shut behind him. All noise instantly cut out, leaving the two of you standing in a silent, darkened space.

You barely caught the movement as he reached up and pulled a string attached to a small lightbulb in the ceiling. It swayed as it sparked to life, illuminating the two of you in dim yellow light.

One of your brows quirked as you realized you were standing in his laundry room.

“Come on, off with it.” His slender fingers gestured for you to remove your soiled shirt.

Your lips pulled into a frown, honestly surprised that he cared enough to try and wash it for you. You played with the edge of the thin material between your fingers, hesitating.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, love.” The edge of his lips twitched into a sinful smirk.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled the sticky material over your head, grimacing at the uncomfortable residue it left on your skin. “It’s not that. I just don’t trust you with my favorite shirt. You’ve already ruined it once.”

“Oh no, I’m not doing it.” He scoffed as if the idea of him doing laundry was ridiculous. “I just brought you in here so you could fix it.”

You were about to snap something about him being a sexist pig, but the words got caught in your throat as you saw the way he was looking at you. His tongue languidly swept along his bottom lip as his hooded eyes flickered around your exposed torso. It was almost as if he couldn’t help but appreciate your body while it was right in front of him.

Your heart skipped a beat and you silently cursed yourself for being so responsive to him. He hadn’t even touched you, and yet you felt heat pooling between your legs in anticipation. Your gaze drifted downward as your shirt slipped between your fingers, fluttering down to the concrete floor.

Isaac’s attention flickered up to your face, eyes blazing as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitched as he scooped up the ruined material and gripped both hands around your hips.

“I guess I could help a little...” His eyes never left yours as he took his time leaning forward.

A shudder wracked your body as he placed a gentle kiss just below your navel. His tongue darted out to brush lightly against the skin of your stomach, dragging all the way up to your ribs. Your back arched and one of your hands immediately fisted the curls at the top of his head.

Your quiet gasps were the only sound in the otherwise silent room, as he slowly licked the sticky liquid from your skin. Your core throbbed desperately for attention beneath your mini skirt, but he didn’t seem likely to stop until all traces of your spilled drink were gone.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, you tugged him up by the hair between your fingers. You couldn’t take it anymore. He popped to his feet, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. You didn’t even care about his smugness at this point. You just wanted him.

You stood on the tips of your toes and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He returned the kiss immediately, using the hands that still held your hips to walk you backward until you ran into the washing machine.

Your hands trailed down his sides, eliciting a low moan from him, before you gripped the material of his shirt and yanked it over his head. Your lips separated just long enough for him to get the thing off before reconnecting heatedly.

He slid an arm around your waist and hauled you up on top of the washer. A chill ran up your spine as the chilled metal hit your skin, but the uncomfortable feeling was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as Isaac stepped between your parted legs.

His fingers wrapped around your thighs, squeezing gently before sliding upward slowly. You dragged your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots at the base of his skull. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of your mind, your subconscious was reminding you that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

“Mmm, wait.” Isaac suddenly pulled back, and you blinked a few times to clear away the hazy lust that had overtaken you. “Before we do this, I have a request.”

“Really, Lahey? Right now?” You pouted, wrapping one of the curls at the back of his head around your finger.

“You’re gonna let me take you out.” His eyes flickered between yours, all traces of his usual cockiness gone.

“Wha-what?” You sputtered, pulling back slightly. You honestly weren’t sure if you’d even heard him correctly.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, removing his hands from your thighs to rest against the washer instead. A shiver moved up your spine at the loss of warmth as he stepped back a few inches. You craned your neck up to look into his eyes as he leaned over you.

“If we’re going to continue doing this, I want to take you out.” He said the words slowly, as if they needed to be dumbed down for you to understand.

You scoffed, not appreciating his attempt at a joke. There was no way he was being serious. If there was one thing you knew about Isaac Lahey, it was that he did not do relationships. In all the time you’d known him, he’d never been linked to anyone seriously. He had a few flings, but they never lasted longer than a month or so. And you’d definitely never seen him take anyone out.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” You mused, rolling your eyes when his face fell into a frown. “Absolutely not.”

His brows pinched, as if it were the first time someone had ever told him no. “Why is that?”

“Because, Isaac, this thing we’re doing? It’s just...I mean. Not to be rude, but you’re nothing but a fuckboy. And I have more self-respect than that.”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression completely unreadable before his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. “Meaning a boy you’ve fucked?”

You scoffed, putting a hand against his chest to push him away. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m being serious.” He placed a hand over yours, making you freeze your attempt to get off the washer. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes rounded as they gazed into yours almost pleadingly. “I...like you, Y/N. Let me take you on a real date that doesn’t include school work.”

Your eyes flickered over his face, trying to find any signs of dishonesty. Surprisingly, there were none. He was giving you this look, like this was the most important thing to him right now. Like you were the most important thing.

Despite the quiet doubts ringing in the back of your mind, you found yourself nodding, a slow smile pulling at your lips. You couldn’t deny that you liked the idiot. You had since even before you’d been forced to get to know each other as partners. Once things got physical, you knew you were a goner.

“Okay.” You breathed, your heart soaring at the happiness shining in his eyes as he grinned at you.

“So it’s a date?” He asked, needing that tiny last bit of confirmation.

You chuckled lightly and snaked an arm around his neck to pull him in closer. “It’s a date. Now kiss me already.”

“If you insist.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges, before connecting your lips again.

You kissed him back as if you’d never stopped, your body molding against his like it was made for yours. It was at that moment that you realized you wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here—making out with Isaac in his laundry room—no matter how ridiculous that was.

Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought.

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf request #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf angst #daniel sharman smut #daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey angst #teen wolf smut #isaac lahey imagine

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fettsvette · 3 years ago

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Never Worn White (Part Three)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 11.7k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Unprotected sex and loss of virginity

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

vaar’ika - little runt

nehutyc’ika - feisty one

sarad’ika - little flower

mesh’la - beautiful

You’d never had so many sets of eyes on you at one time until you had left the Paradise Atrium in the company of Boba Fett. The crowd had swept apart for you as if by the powers of a Jedi Knight of old, with Fett’s hand in yours, leading you out of the lounge and into the cool night air. You had been alarmed about leaving so abruptly at first - a part of you had expected to sit and chat for a while longer, get to know each other, but you supposed that prolonged discussion wasn’t really Boba Fett’s style. Once it was agreed upon that you were to spend the night together, he had simply enveloped your hand in his gloved one, and begun pulling you along towards the doors, much like a parent guiding an unruly child rather than a suitor escorting his barroom hookup.

You had balked as you approached the exit; you hadn’t settled your tab. Fett had turned and regarded you with a mute stare for a brief moment, then had wordlessly tugged you towards the bar, the Bothan bartender gazing towards you with a look of mingled pity and amusement. You didn’t think he’d really expected your irrational scheme to work out. You’d begun digging through the small bag swinging from your arm with a shaking hand, desperately searching for the credit chip that had disappeared into the recesses of it, all too aware of Boba Fett’s presence at your shoulder, breathing down your neck. He watched you struggle for a moment longer before he jostled you to the side and reached into one of the many pockets lining the flak suit underneath his armor, pulling out a haphazard pile of gold and silver Imperial credits, easily several hundred worth, the largest amount you’d ever seen in one setting. By the way Fett slammed the chips down on the counter, he knew he was vastly overpaying your dues, but you knew he wasn’t just covering your tab - he was also buying the bartender’s silence pertaining to this tryst. The Bothan wordlessly swept the money off the bar and into a cupped paw, being careful to not make too much eye contact. It was more than obvious that this kind of transaction had played out here many times before; it was better to just take the money and continue on with business as usual, no questions asked. You’d attempted to thank Fett as he’d silently led you through the shipyards towards his cruiser, but he didn’t even turn to acknowledge your words, so you dropped it. He hadn’t done it out of a display of romantic chivalry, after all - he’d only been covering his own ass, trying to make a quick getaway with you in tow. You were his prize for the night, his bounty .

So you found yourself within the confines of the Slave I , a ship the sight or sound of which would send most creatures fleeing in terror for their lives. You sat frozen on a narrow bunk in the pilot’s quarters, unsure whether you were trembling from nerves or from the cold. You hadn’t been on very many space vessels in your lifetime, let alone ones owned by galactic mercenaries, but the sterile spotlessness of the Slave had shocked you upon first entry. Based on the chipped and battle-worn exterior of the transport, you’d expected it to be dingy, the walls bearing the mark of blaster smoke residue, maybe even some old bloodstains, but instead your surroundings gave off the impression of having been scrubbed down meticulously, carefully - and fairly recently. You could tell this wasn’t the work of maintenance droids - this kind of immaculate cleanliness could only be the mark of human hands. You tried to imagine Boba Fett sitting back on his haunches on the hard durasteel floor, a sponge and bucket beside him, diligently scouring the insides of the cages that held the captives he was entrusted with transporting to their dooms. You envisioned the armor of his breastplate glistening in the artificial light, rivulets of soapy water dripping down the front of it, soaking through the thick material of the leather gloves he never took off. You’d been so kriffing wet ever since you’d arrived aboard the Slave I, anticipating what was to come. Boba Fett’s hand had felt so warm in yours as he’d led you up here to his personal quarters, and you shivered at the memory of his large palm on your ass, steadying you as he’d instructed you to climb the ladder behind the cockpit. You’d never been touched in that way before, and you’d momentarily frozen, before a rough push from below had boosted you up through the hatch in the floor.

And now here you were, sitting on Boba Fett’s bed, listening to the rhythmic release of the hot water in the adjacent shower. You hadn’t expected a bounty hunter to have such an extravagant luxury as a chemical-based bathing system onboard his craft - although you supposed that he could afford any type of vehicular modifications he wished, with the kind of exorbitant payouts he received for his work. Fett had told you - practically ordered you, in hindsight - to stay put and wait for him to get out of the ‘fresher. Despite the arousal coating your thighs beneath your dress, you couldn’t stop your knees from knocking together. You hadn’t known it was possible to be horny and petrified at the same time, but you were. You truly hadn’t expected to get this far in your fantasy - it had seemed like such a pipedream, a childish adventure you’d anticipated to end in rejection and embarrassment and heartbreak. You hadn’t expected such a man to be a willing participant in your flight of fancy. But instead you were now aboard Fett’s personal transport, waiting for him to finish washing up. Unless something were to go unspeakably wrong in a very short amount of time, you were going to lose your virginity to Boba Fett tonight. The shiver that curled up your spine as you said it to yourself in your head was both one of expectancy and timorousness.

“You’re still dressed.”

The voice was gruff, the unexpectedness of it causing you to gasp and leap to your feet. You whirled towards the source, and felt as if the breath had been forcefully knocked from your lungs as if by a sharp blow.

In all the time you’d spent researching Fett, siphoning up every piece of information on him that you could find, not many creatures had ever thought to describe what his voice sounded like. You supposed that Fett didn’t talk much, being such a singular man - in all the holovids you had seen of him, never once had he spoken, even when speech had been directed towards him. Just that stony silence answered, maybe a tilt of that mysterious worn-out visor or a quick gesture with a gloved hand, but that was it. The modulated voice that came through the Mandalorian helmet’s vocoder back in the cantina had been harsh, unforgiving, devoid of most emotion save annoyance and the venom that you expected from the galaxy’s most ruthless bounty hunter. There had still been that odd kindness to his tone when he’d seen you were upset, however, a shift that had seemed so out of character based on what you’d seen and read about the man that it had stunned your senses into complete sobriety, stilling your tears. This voice that confronted you now was very much human, but gravelly, made harsh by years of hard living and long periods of solitude. There was an inquisitiveness to it, though, and a youthfulness you hadn’t expected. You couldn’t place the accent, although you’d heard rumors that Fett’s family was from the Mandalore sector of the Outer Rim, some backwater moon called Concord Dawn, but none of the bounty hunter aficionados you’d spoken with seemed to be sure. He did wear Mandalorian armor, after all, but most assumed it had been plundered, not inherited or earned. Of course, nobody had ever asked Boba Fett himself - and lived to tell anyone, anyway.

The man standing before you was bare-chested, a thin towel wrapped around his waist. He stood in the doorway of the refresher, residual steam still collecting behind him, water beading on the muscular expanse of his pectorals. His shoulders and upper arms and abdomen were covered in tattoos, unfamiliar spiraling patterns as well as glyphs in a language you’d never seen before, and every inch of his body that you could see was riddled with scars - some obvious blaster wounds, others looking like the marks of vibroblades or crude spears, some overlapping others and completely unrecognizable as being from any particular weapon. His skin was like a canvas, a story detailing decades of fierce battles, of wins and losses. You longed to run your hands over each and every scar, hear those stories yourself. Even more so, you yearned to tangle your fingers through the thick black curls atop his head - for some reason you had always expected him to have a shaved scalp, like so many other humanoid mercenaries, and the surprising full head of hair gave Fett a strangely boyish appearance. You pegged his age at anywhere from late twenties to mid-thirties, although it was hard to tell; the scars peppering his body also extended across his facial features, a prominent one in particular slashing a ragged arc through his furrowed brow, making him look older and harder than his years. His hooded eyes were a deep brown, more black in the light, almost the color of the darkness between the stars, and his nose was broad and slightly flattened, then upturned at its tip, which would have given him a haughty air, if it weren’t for the deep scar directly across the bridge. You wondered how he came across these distinctive wounds if he really never did take off his helmet. But it was his mouth you couldn’t tear your eyes away from - the sharp line of his strong jaw left him perpetually unsmiling, but the soft pout of his lips was intoxicating to look upon. You were dying to have those lips on yours, feel them leave a trail of kisses down your neck, across the stretch of your belly towards the wet heat between your legs. Soon .

This was the infamous Boba Fett, unmasked. A mortal man, after all.

You stared dumbly at him, your heart hammering in your chest, your limbs trembling where you stood. Your face was impossibly warm, and you could feel the sweat beading on your forehead. This was too much. You were starting to think that maybe you did understand why Fett was never seen without his helmet - creatures the galaxy over would fall before his feet at every turn, more so than they already did. Whole dynasties would crumble for him.

He was easily the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your lifetime.

And he was to be yours tonight.

“What’s the matter with you, girl? Loth-cat got your tongue?” Fett asked as you continued to ogle him like something out of a menagerie, one eyebrow arched questionably, a hint of amusement in his voice as he stalked towards you. You backed up as he did so, your calves hitting the edge of the cot and causing you to fall onto the thin blankets. Your face burned from the display of clumsiness, but Fett acted like he hadn’t noticed. He just continued to stare with those deep dark eyes, the thoughts behind them all but unreadable.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare, it’s just… you’re beautiful. ” You stumbled over the words, and felt slightly ashamed. To describe such a hard man with that word seemed almost wrong, sacrilege. You’d heard of the Diathim, mysterious beings that supposedly dwelled on Iego’s moons; known for their uncanny beauty, creatures called them angels. You didn’t care how odd it might sound to others - you felt that if angels truly were real, one was standing before you right now.

Your declaration was met with a derisive snort and a roll of the eyes on Fett’s end.

“I’ve been called many things over the course of the years. Most of them aren’t worth repeating in the company of others. But ‘beautiful’ isn’t one I hear very often, nehutyc’ika .” His voice was even and highly controlled, for someone who was nearly naked in the presence of a stranger, although you knew from your talks with Rystáll Sant among others that this was nowhere near Fett’s first casual fling.

“What does that word mean? Nehut…? You’ve called me that twice now.” You cocked your head in confusion, trying and failing to think of anything to talk about that would distract your feverish mind from the sight in front of you. Fett’s unwavering eye contact and the way he seemed to be drinking you up was starting to make you nervous. Everything was happening so fast .

“ Nehutyc’ika. It’s Mando’a, the language of my father’s people. It means you’re a feisty one.” He answered matter-of-factly, taking several steps towards you. You sat frozen, looking up at him mutely. You were vaguely aware of how badly your hands were shaking and quickly placed them underneath your thighs to hide them from Fett’s watchful gaze, although you feared it was too late. You were dumbfounded. You still couldn’t believe you were actually here , that the man of your dreams was standing shirtless in front of you - clad in nothing but a towel - and had brought up his family , and was now calling you ‘feisty.’ Was Boba Fett actually flirting with you?

He took another step forward and dropped the towel.

Oh.

You supposed he was doing more than just flirting now.

Blinding heat instantly pooled in your cunt, and you gasped from deep in your chest. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been expecting this level of boldness - ‘more like sluttiness,’ the whimsical voice in the back of your head chided before you shoved it back down into the recesses of your mind - from Boba Fett. Trembling, you unconsciously scooted away from him on the bunk, your eyes glued to his waist.

He was huge .

Not that you had any personal experience to work with, but you’d watched enough holoporn on the ‘Net to know that Boba Fett was packing . He was eight inches at least, thick and veiny, already half-hard. Kark , even his balls were perfect - tight and plump, sitting there nestled in a patch of dark, wiry hair. He gauged your clearly shocked reaction smugly, looking you up and down with a barely perceptible smirk ghosting his features. He was amused by your wide eyes, the hang of your jaw, your tensed limbs.

“ Hmm . You really are a virgin, aren’t you?” There was laughter in his voice, and - oh, stars - blatant arousal. His cock had twitched as he’d said ‘virgin,’ and your pussy throbbed in reply. Part of you wanted to grab him by the wrists and pull him down on top of you, beg him to satisfy the growing ache between your legs as soon as possible, but instead you could only let out a torrent of stutters.

“W-...w-why would I lie to you about that? That’s the reason I’m here, i-isn’t it? I w-wanted you to be my first…” You answered faintly. Your tongue felt heavy, your throat tight. It felt as if every molecule of heat in your body was collecting in your cunt, and you hoped the growing damp patch in your panties wouldn’t soak through your dress, let alone into the cot.

“It wouldn't be the first time a beautiful woman has tried to lie her way into my bed.” His lascivious grin grew broader, and it struck you then just how white and straight his teeth were. You felt dizzy, and your eyelids fluttered. Taking a shuddering breath, you closed your eyes in an attempt to ground yourself. ‘This is what you wanted. You’ve come so far. Don’t let your nerves turn you back now.’

“Not going to get shy on me now, are you, girly?” You opened your eyes when you felt a warm, calloused hand come down on your shoulder, and you had to stifle a surprised yelp. Boba Fett was standing directly over you, looking down on you as if he were a god watching his flock from above. His stiffening cock was level with your nose, and your mouth watered. It was so close that you felt as if you would go cross-eyed if you continued to look at it. You wondered if he expected you to take him in your hand, stroke him, pleasure him with your tongue, but Fett shoved you back by your shoulders, and you landed unceremoniously back on the pillow, shifting your eyes downwards to the foot of the bed. Fett now balanced there, one knee resting on the edge of the cot, exposing himself unabashedly to you. He observed you broodily, his lips slightly pursed, and you wondered if he was expecting you to try and make a run for it, and what he would do if you did. You had the mental image of a completely nude Boba Fett chasing you down the boarding ramp of the Slave I, blaster in hand, penis flopping as he ran, and a hysterical giggle rose to your lips, which Fett silenced with a stern shush.

“Go on, girl, lay down. Let me help you feel good...” The bounty hunter purred, climbing on the bed to fully kneel before you, reaching out and placing his large hands on either side of your hips, rucking the shimmersilk dress up to rest above your belly button. You breathed heavily through your nose, in and out, hyper-aware of the feeling of Fett’s rough palms on your skin, the warmth radiating through him coming across more like fire licking up your pelvis to your ribcage. You wondered if he could tell just how badly you were shaking under his hands, if he could feel how hot you were for him already; if he did notice, he kept it to himself - he seemed solely focused on that spot between your legs, the junction of your sex that felt almost numb with how turned on you were. It didn’t even register to you at first that you were almost naked in front of a man for the very first time, that maybe you should be embarrassed - stars, he didn’t even know your name, hadn’t even expressed a passing interest in learning it - until you heard the low, animal growl emanating from Fett’s throat, and saw just how greedily he was admiring your soaked panties.

“Already wet, are you? Good. That’ll make it easier on you.”

You groaned at his words and covered your face with sweating, trembling hands, your core tensing as you felt your underwear being pulled down around your knees, then your ankles, and finally being harshly yanked off entirely. An arm nudged your knees even further apart, and you gasped, the ship’s cool air bathing your spread pussy lips, the wetness gathered there making it feel even colder. There was a brief pause, and a hand encircled your wrist, pulling your hands away from your eyes. You blinked to see Fett looming over you, the ghost of a smile upon his lips, and he settled to lie between your legs as he made sure you were making direct eye contact with him. You could feel his hot breath on your core, and your head swam. You had Boba Fett between your legs, about to pleasure you with his mouth. It was like something out of your most secret fantasies, but this was real .

“Keep your hands away from your face, vaar’ika . I want you to watch me taste you. I don’t get to eat unspoiled fruit very often, you know.”

He buried his face between your legs without another word.

Oh, stars above.

You’d never felt anything like this before, and struggled to keep from fainting back against the pillow. His tongue was hot against your cunt, licking warm stripes up and down, lapping up the juices that had collected between your folds as if it were the most delicious nectar he’d ever tasted. Fett hummed against you and the vibrations traveled up your spine like a shock, and you twisted your fists in the blankets, biting your lip to keep from crying out already. His lips latched onto your swollen clit at last and he suckled on the engorged bud hungrily, and you finally allowed yourself to moan. Fett gave a deep rumble in return that you didn’t immediately recognize as laughter due to the fact that his face was nestled against your sex. He was laughing at your reactions to his ministrations, and your face and chest only flushed hotter. Fett’s arms came up for a moment to loop around your thighs, dragging you downwards and causing you to emit a strangled whine, before he settled your legs over his broad shoulders. The change of position - you were practically sitting on his face now - prompted another rush of arousal to flood your needy cunt. Boba Fett groaned appreciatively as his tongue probed inside of you, its tip curled, licking at the opening of your sex. You gasped deeply and arched your back, and Fett grumbled, holding you down as you began to squirm underneath him, digging your heels into his shoulder blades. He turned his mouth back to your clitoris, flickering his tongue methodically back and forth, up and down, swirling circles around the sensitive bud until you began to pant and whimper in earnest. You were so wet that you could hear him eating you out, obscene slurping sounds interspaced with pleased grunts, his nose pressed into your vulva, his hips grinding into the corner of the cot beneath him in an effort to bring himself some pleasure.

All it took to send you over the edge was an unexpected nip of his teeth to the hood of your clit, and your vision went white. You let out a choked sob, your hips bucking off the cot and your fingers threading through Fett’s tight curls, holding him in place as you rode out your orgasm on his face.

You weren’t sure how long it lasted, but the waves of your climax finally began to ebb, and you released your hold on Fett’s hair, quivering helplessly in the aftershocks of your first-ever assisted orgasm. Fett released his iron grip on your thighs and raised his head to look at you, and you couldn’t help but let out an overwhelmed squeak at what you saw.

His chin and mouth were glistening with your arousal, shiny in the light, and your breath stuttered as you watched him slowly lick his lips, his tongue circling to gather every last bit of your cum that had coated his features. It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen in your life - the Boba Fett now sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of you, wiping the rest of your cum from his mouth with the back of one hand and absent-mindedly stroking his cock with the other, observing you with an almost bored expression. His cheeks were ruddy with arousal, the rosy head of his length weeping pre-cum, his dark pupils blown. But despite everything he had just put you through with his mouth alone, he wasn’t even breathing heavily, hadn’t broken a sweat. He looked zen, if anything.

“...Can I kiss you? Please?” You asked breathlessly, your chest still heaving, leaning back on your elbows on the cot in front of him. The question took him by surprise at first, his eyebrows raising, the scars sprinkled across his features distorting with the movement. And then he laughed , a genuine laugh, oddly musical and light coming from such an imposing figure, so much so that you could help but grin in response, your cheeks hurting from just how hard you were smiling at this show of vulnerability on his part. Fett leaned forward and grabbed you by your biceps and hoisted you into his arms, bringing you to sit straddling one muscular thigh, his skin hot and firm under your pussy, and you felt yourself becoming aroused all over again at the press of his bare flesh against your center. Fett tapped your shoulder and gestured with a curt jerk of his head for you to lift your arms, and he yanked your dress above your head in one smooth movement, tossing it out of sight. You didn’t care if it got ruined, that it had cost you nearly a third of your weekly pay - all you cared about anymore was Boba Fett.

“I just made you cum and you’re asking if you can kiss me? You’re a strange one, girl. Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed a man before either.” Fett teased, cupping your chin in one hand, his face so close to yours that your foreheads were nearly touching.

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he captured your mouth with his.

You could taste yourself on him, a musky, earthy tone, and you moaned as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, playfully darting at your own and biting at your lower lip. You had never understood when your friends had claimed to have seen fireworks when being kissed, but you could wholeheartedly say that you did now. It felt like the celebrations on Empire Day in the pit of your belly, full of bright sparks and incredible explosions of color.

Fett hefted one breast in his hand, absently flicking the nipple back and forth with his thumb and kneading the tender flesh as he lazily kissed you, mostly letting you take the reins in your experimentation. You kissed him deeply, your nose digging into his cheek as you turned your head for a different angle against his mouth. You could have kissed Boba Fett forever, your arms around his neck, your chest flush with his, your nude body pliant in his lap, his cock pressed against your thigh. You eventually came up for air, breathing hard, dropping your hands to rest your palms on his brawny chest, searching his face for any sign of what the bounty hunter might be thinking. He simply stared back at you, any and all contemplations he may have had hidden behind a deathly still visage. You thought Fett must be an incredibly adept sabacc player, with that kind of self-control over his expressions.

“So, this is where you fuck me now, right?” You breathed, and Fett narrowed his eyes, scoffing as if you’d just asked him if Ewoks could speak Basic. He placed his hands on your hips, gripping the flesh there so roughly that you involuntarily let out a hiss of discomfort.

“Oh no… you’re not nearly ready to take me, not yet. You’re still too tight. Do you want to enjoy this or not?” You’d thought you were getting somewhere; you’d thought that maybe you were actually beginning to see a softer side of Boba Fett, but the annoyance in his voice was palpable. Your face burned with shame. You knew he thought you were an idiot, blinded by lust, eager to use him as your personal fucktoy so you could tell your friends that you had lost your virginity to Boba Fett, and now he was angry with you. You were brought out of your thoughts by a slap to the meat of your ass, just sharp enough to make you yelp and refocus on Fett with widened eyes.

“ Answer me .”

You gulped and nodded your head rapidly in response, stammering despite your attempt to remain calm. “Y-yes… I want to enjoy this…”

Fett reached further around and patted your ass as if praising a beloved pet. “ Very good. Don’t question me again, and don’t go thinking you’re the one in control here. You’re only here because I took pity on you. I could just as quickly throw you off my ship, naked as the day you were born. Don’t think I haven’t done it before. Would you like that, princess , or do you want to continue with our little game?”

Fett reached between your bodies and pinched at your clit with his thumb and index finger, and you let out a little shriek of surprise, gripping his muscular shoulders. Despite his threats, the broody edge to his voice, his almost violent touches, you didn’t think you’d ever been so turned on in your life. The dangers that seemed to be around every corner concerning this encounter were exciting rather than frightening - even the image of having to make your way home in the nude, a walk of shame after having been cast out from Boba Fett’s company, felt like more of a thrill than anything else. You didn’t even care that he called you ‘princess’ in a clearly derogatory way; as he’d said himself, this was a game, and judging from the pre-cum dribbled down the side of his cock, he was just as willing to play as you were.

You raised your eyes to his, drawing your gaze away from his hand, where it was resting on your pubic mound, his thumb just barely grazing your clit. There was an almost mischievous glitter in Fett’s eyes as he waited for your reply, and the slightest pressure he was applying was killing you. In lieu of words, you simply grasped his wrist with a shaky hand and pressed his palm harder into your pussy. Fett let out a deep chuckle in response, and began rubbing your clit tortuously. Humming contentedly, you bucked your hips sloppily, attempting to work up a rhythm in time with Fett’s hand. Your pussy dragged back and forth along the hard expanse of his thigh, your arousal smearing over his skin, making for slicker traction with every push of your waist. Fett looped one strong arm around your middle, holding you steady as you rocked yourself on his leg. He continued to jerk your clit at a frantic pace, his entire hand settled over your dripping cunt, occasionally running his thumb up and down your slit to gather the juices there and spread them along your swollen bud before resuming his direct assault.

“You love riding my thigh like this, don’t you? Is this what you think about when you’re alone in bed at night, girly, with your pillow between your legs? Rutting your hot little cunt against me like a felinx in heat?” Fett goaded, and you let out a quiet moan in response, tipping your head back and squeezing your eyes closed, focusing on the sensations building in your quim. He knew. You didn’t know how, but it was like he was aware of every single dirty fantasy you’d ever had about him. All you had told him is that you wanted to give yourself to him - nothing more, nothing less. Had he been contemplating what sparked your nocturnal emissions while he was showering earlier in the night? It was true, you thought of bringing yourself to climax this way often - daydreaming scenarios in which you were some faraway planet’s heroine, kidnapped for ransom by a ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter, forced to grind against him like an animal for his pleasure, a blaster to your temple - but no reverie could ever compare to this.

The sweet, cresting wave of another orgasm had been building within you for quite some time, both at the urging of Fett’s deft fingers as well as the movements of your own undulating hips against his thigh, when he suddenly took his hand away and stilled your movements with a painful squeeze of your hip, and you cried out pathetically. You’d been so close . Fett clucked his tongue at your begging, and his hand slowly went back to its place between your legs, his fingers crawling further down than before, and you automatically tensed.

“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers now, vaar’ika . If you really want to take my cock, I need to open you up more.” Fett warned, circling his thumb over your clit and poking at your entrance with his index and middle fingers. Your breath hitched at the probing, the muscles of your groin bracing for yet another sensation you had never experienced, but you nodded desperately. You were ready for this.

Fett dragged the digits up and down your slit, back and forth, collecting your wetness, and then dipped them into you slowly, gently. You emitted a whooping gasp at the intrusion, bucking your hips against his fingers as they slipped deeper into your cunt. Fett’s fingers were blunt and thick, and you already felt stretched out deep inside - you wouldn’t call the feeling painful, but your inner muscles fluttered wildly, pushing back against this unknown invasion, and you had to concentrate on keeping your breathing even in an effort to get yourself to relax. Fett stilled his movements as he sensed your muscles contracting uncomfortably around him, and waited for your breathless nod of consent for him to resume. He began gingerly pumping in and out of you, listening for little moans and whimpers on your part to know it was alright to move faster. As his pace increased, he continued rubbing your clit with his thumb, and the unfamiliar pressure of his fingers inside you quickly gave over to a pleasurable massaging sensation that had you groaning aloud. You began to experimentally wriggle your hips against his motions, seeing what felt good, and dug your nails into Fett’s arms as the shifting of your weight back and forth helped guide his probing fingers to a spot deep inside you, one you’d never been able to reach by your own hands. Fett sensed the change in your movements against him, the stutter of your hips against his digits, the sudden gush of wetness dripping onto his palm, and knew he’d found what he was looking for. He curled his fingers up towards himself inside you, pushing in hard against the soft, spongy patch and pulled your cunt back and forth rapidly, reveling in the way you cried out and clutched at him. The sweet pressure within your groin was building rapidly, becoming more intense than anything you’d felt in the past.

“I… I think I’m going to…” You stammered weakly, your words punctuated with little whines and squeals of pleasure. You attempted to continue your warning with the words ‘to cum ,’ but you could only let out a loud moan instead, letting the bounty hunter jerk your pussy whichever way he wished. Your face burned, your ears zoning in on the loud squelching noises coming from your cunt as his fingers worked faster and faster, his arm pumping rapidly with the exertion.

Fett answered you with a teasing snarl, completely unbothered by your pleading. “ Oh? What’s that? You’re going to cum on my fingers, hmm? If this is enough to make you fall to pieces, just wait until I’ve got my cock in you, girl…”

That did it. His words, and the insistent, constant press of his fingers against that unbearably sensitive spot deep inside of you, sent you crashing over the edge. You let out a strangled scream, burying your face in the crook of Fett’s neck, scrabbling at his back with your nails as your orgasm devastatingly washed over you. Fett swore loudly as you let yourself go on his fingers, although he showed no signs of slowing, and your face burned with the realization of what was happening. You could feel the buildup of pressure gradually releasing from your cunt, could feel yourself gushing onto his hand and thigh and onto the cot beneath, but in that moment you were beyond caring - every nerve-ending in your body was in ecstasy.

It felt like hours had gone by before you finally felt him remove his fingers from within you with a soft wet noise, followed by another dribble of fluid from your core, and let out a choked sob at the sudden emptiness. Boba shifted to rise from the cot and you clumsily slipped off his lap and back onto the blankets, cringing uncomfortably at the wetness beneath you. It was once you were seated and had regained control of your breathing and heart rate that you were aware of just how drenched everything was. The cot was soaked, your ass settled in the center of a large damp patch, the inside of your thighs coated with your own juices. You turned to look at Fett, and your jaw dropped when you saw just how much of your slick was glazing his stomach, his thighs, the arm he had coaxed your orgasm from you with. And he was grinning .

“You squirted all over me, girl.” To your disbelief, Fett sounded impressed, and the self-congratulatory smirk on his face reflected it. He was curiously inspecting his dripping fingers, rubbing them together, then stuck them in his mouth like a child with a sucker, his eyes boring into you darkly. He pulled the digits free with a noisy pop after a long moment and looked down at his hand, a whispered “ So sweet …” emanating from his lips. You didn’t know whether he’d intended for you to hear him, but the object of your affection speaking in that way, about you - about your arousal - had you feeling weak. You’d never squirted before in your life, and Boba Fett had drawn it out of you within mere minutes. You wanted to repay him for the pleasure he’d given you - twice over, now.

“I… I want you in my mouth, Boba.”

He gave a start at your use of his name - it was the first time during this encounter that you had said it aloud, and you didn’t think he’d been expecting you to at all. His cock twitched openly and a bead of pre-cum leaked from the slit at his head, dribbling onto the blanket to join your own mess, and when he spoke, his voice was even rougher, lower, full of flagrant excitement. You expected him to forcefully grab you by your hair and shove your mouth onto him, fuck your skull with wanton abandon, but instead Fett regarded you silently, stroking himself with languid pumps, swirling his thumb across the tip of his cock to spread his arousal down his shaft.

“I’ll have to teach you. How to suck a man’s cock. Do you want that? Do you really want to suck my cock ?” He rose from the edge of the cot, standing before you as you crawled on your hands and knees towards him. You nodded fervently, not in the least ashamed that you were literally begging for this man’s cock; you no longer cared, you just wanted your lips around him. You’d never given a blowjob before, but you wanted to taste him like he had tasted you. Fett watched you and held himself out straight, one fist gripping the base of his thick member, as you sat yourself before him.

“Open,” Fett ordered brusquely, and you obediently followed his command, even sticking your tongue out for good measure. This seemed to amuse the bounty hunter, and he smirked, a low rumble of laughter emanating from deep within his broad chest. He jerked himself a few more times as he stood over you, then took another step and laid his heavy cock directly on your tongue. You were surprised at the taste of him - you weren’t sure what exactly you had been expecting, but he tasted of soap, and clean skin, and some sort of minty cologne you’d assumed he’d applied in the ‘fresher, with a hint of salt that intrigued you. It was a distinctly Boba taste, although you didn’t think you’d ever be able to explain what you meant to another living being. As you experimentally wrapped your lips around his girth, careful not to scrape the sensitive skin with your teeth, Fett let out a soft groan, and you felt him reach out to pat your hair. “Yes, that it’s… good girl. ”

You paused like that for a long moment, focusing on the heat of him in your mouth to distract from the fact that your jaw was already tiring a bit, then dipped your head to take more of him into your mouth, hesitantly suckling on his glans and attempting take him further down your throat before reflexively retching and pulling back. Your face burned with embarrassment as you wiped spittle from the corner of your mouth, and you looked back up at Fett hesitantly, expecting to be reprimanded for this novice’s folly. Instead, he was smirking, and you got the strong sense that he was impressed that he’d made you gag so soon.

“Go slow, girl. No need to choke yourself. ...Or is my cock too much for that pretty mouth of yours to handle? Here, I’ll show you...” Fett cooed smugly, and he reached out to take your wrist in his large hand, helping you wrap your fingers around his cock. He was throbbing under your touch, and you felt your cunt heating up all over again at the sensation, fresh wetness gathering between your thighs. Fett tapped the underside of your chin once your hand was secured around him, and you opened your mouth, taking him on your tongue of your own accord. He was so heavy, you couldn’t help but let out a groan at the weight of him, and Fett let out a hiss at the feeling your vibrations made against his length. He put one hand on the back of your head, pushing you forward at an excruciatingly slow pace, allowing you to gradually become accustomed to his presence in your mouth without further triggering your gag reflex.

“No teeth , girly… careful, careful… now suck . Gentle . Use your tongue to massage my cock… there you go, that’s it…” Fett coached as you gingerly swirled your tongue around his head, making sure to pay extra attention to the prominent vein running along the underside of him - maybe you’d never actually done this before, but you liked to think you had an idea of what to do based on all the dirty holovids you watched. You just couldn’t believe you were actually trying all of this out on Boba Fett himself. He was too girthy for you to swallow him to the hilt, so you shyly brought one hand up to rest shakily on his thick thigh, the skin still damp from your juices, and knead the flesh there, and a jolt went through your pussy as Fett emitted a purr at your ministrations. You reached your other hand out to cup his balls, heavy and hard in your hand, and the bounty hunter’s cock twitched violently in your mouth as you massaged them, almost making you gag again. He groaned under his breath every time you squeezed and rolled his sac, and you relished the feeling of his length spasming against your tongue, the salty sweet taste of his pre-cum filling your mouth. Stars, he was delicious. You wished you could see yourself, on your knees, sucking Boba Fett’s cock, and reprimanded yourself for not having the foresight to bring your holocam, strategically place it somewhere in the room to record tonight’s tryst so you could watch it over and over again.

You were just building up a rhythm - digging your nails into Fett’s thigh, occasionally tugging at his balls, and slurping greedily on his cock, when he ended it. With a growled moan, Fett grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off of him, his short nails scratching at your scalp in a way that sent shivers up your spine. He left with your mouth with an audible pop , a string of drool leading from your lips to his glistening glans, which only broke when you placed a chaste kiss to it, grinning up at him. You felt drunk on his cock, if it were possible to be so - he hadn’t even been inside you yet, but you already found yourself yearning for his presence in your life, for this to be more than just a one night stand, a fantasy come to life. You didn’t think you’d ever not be able to envision the gorgeous creature standing in front of you the next time you saw the faceless entity who prowled after bounties featured on the nighttime HoloNews.

“But I wanted to make you cum …” You pouted as Fett wordlessly pushed you onto your back on the bed, walking forward on his knees until he was nestled between your spread legs. He pressed his arms into the cot on either side of your head, holding himself up above you, his face hovering above yours. You could feel his hot breath on your skin and wanted to place your hand on the back of his neck, draw his mouth to yours, but you found yourself frozen in place, staring up at him wide-eyed, your hands clasped to your breasts.

“No, vaar’ika. Not yet. I want to cum with that tight little virgin pussy of yours squeezing me.” Fett crooned sweetly, and you whined loudly at his words, bucking your hips up, trying in vain for your sopping core to make contact with his dangling cock, but he pulled away, rising to sit back between your knees, his member rosy and standing at attention, a clear drop of pre-cum beading at its tip. You laid beneath him, spread out and open, and Fett pushed your thighs apart even further, positioning himself at your entrance. He began rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb, pressing in slow circles, and you mewled appreciatively.

“I’m not going to lie to you. This will hurt.” Fett warned, leaning forward slightly and skimming the head of his cock up and down your slit. With every swipe, his heavy glans would catch on your swollen clit, and you had to stop yourself from grabbing him in your hand, keeping him positioned there so you could get off from the friction alone. You were so wet that you could hear the slick sound of his hardness passing through your folds, and that alone eradicated any doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted. You needed him inside of you more than anything else. It was time. There was no turning back. You didn’t care if it would be painful. Not anymore.

“Boba, please . I’m ready for this. I’ve always been ready. I want this… I want you .” You urged him, and he nodded curtly in acknowledgement. It was then that the realization hit you - in your rush to leave your flat earlier in the night, you’d forgotten perhaps one of the most important things. Your roommate always stored contraception in your shared ‘fresher, which you’d completely bypassed in your mad rush to get to the Paradise Atrium and find Boba Fett. Now you were here, about to do the deed with the man himself, without any sort of protection, and you’d only remembered at the last possible moment.

“ Wait . I’m… I’m not on anything. Do you… ?” You began, and cringed to yourself, fully expecting Fett to rise and demand you to get out of his sight for your stupidity, cast you out into the night like he threatened to do earlier. Instead, you were met with a huff and a shake of his curly head, and he patted your inner thigh. Again, he looked smug, almost proud of himself.

“I have an implant, girl. If I didn’t, I’d have bastards the galaxy over. You came all this way with nothing of your own? Hmm. Interesting . Now just relax… ” Boba replied, and you nodded, feeling faint. Of course he had an implant, why hadn’t you considered that? You supposed you ought to look into getting one too, but your thought was interrupted by something hard and hot and blunt poking at your folds, and you cast your eyes downward to watch as Fett spread your lips with the fingers of one hand, using his other to line up his cock with your hole.

He entered you slowly, with a gentle nudge, just the tip breaching your entrance, and you involuntarily cried out despite yourself. He was so big already. The stretch was unlike anything you’d felt, it was as if your opening was going to tear, and you silently reprimanded yourself for thinking his karking fingers alone had been too thick for you. Your hips canted upwards to try and escape the discomfort, and Fett laid a massive, warm hand flat against your belly, ceasing his movements as well as your own squirming, shushing you.

“Easy, little one, easy . I’ve only just started to enter you. This is nothing . Are you absolutely sure you can handle the rest of me? You’re allowed to change your mind if you don’t want this after all. I can still turn you loose…” Fett offered, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the skin of your tummy in a way that was shockingly comforting, coming from such a harsh character. The weight of his hand on your stomach was oddly grounding, and you closed your eyes, taking several deep breaths through your nose, and nodded for him to continue.

He slid into you further and it was like a rod of flame had been inserted up your cunt. You yelped, biting back a proper scream as you involuntarily hunched away from the invading presence. Fett held your hips down, preventing you from squirming away further, and immediately stopped his movements once more. He wasn’t even fully sheathed within you yet, but the pain was unbelievable. You didn’t imagine that it could hurt this much, especially with how wet you were. He was just so huge , you couldn’t fathom how the rest of him would fit inside of you. There were already tears of frustration filling your eyes at having to stop him again so soon, and you gazed upwards at the bounty hunter, who was looking down at you with a completely unreadable expression. Your hands were gripping his forearms and you could feel just how taut the muscles there were, how much self-control it was taking him to keep from pounding into you like a wild beast despite your discomfort, and you admired him for that. You wanted him deep inside you, you wanted him to finish the job, fully claim you at last - you wished he would just push forward with one savage thrust and break you open already.

“If you keep crying out like this and trying to move away from me, vaar’ika , we’ll be stuck here all night.” Fett said simply, looking down between your bodies at where you were partially joined. You followed his gaze as well, your eyes growing wider as you took notice of his hard length sitting between your legs, halfway vanished into your quivering pussy. You felt sweat gathering on your brow, underneath your breasts, and the sight brought a fresh wave of arousal flooding through your cunt. Fett obviously felt it, as he let out a soft groan and you felt the tip of his member twitch within you, and a delicious shiver of pleasure went up your spine. That sensation alone made you want to wiggle forward yourself, despite the pain, and impale yourself on him fully. You squeezed Fett’s arms and he raised his head to look into your eyes, his gaze boring into yours. The arousal in his eyes was intoxicating.

“Boba, I… I want you to move. Just do it, even if I scream or cry or try to get away. I give you my full permission. If… if I need you to stop, really stop, I’ll tap your shoulder three times. Is… is that okay?” You asked nervously, already feeling yourself begin to shake from the anticipation of what was coming. You wanted this more than anything , and now it was actually happening. You couldn’t have imagined you would actually be here even a few mere hours ago, underneath Boba Fett in the pilot’s quarters of the Slave I , about to lose your virginity to him. You expected to wake up in your own bed any moment, the night’s events having been just an incredibly vivid dream. Boba Fett didn’t answer your request with words. His eyes shifted to the side, almost imperceptibly, as he considered your proposition, and then, silently, he brought one hand up to rest on your flushed cheek. You took a shaky inhale as he gently craned his neck to place a kiss on your sweaty forehead, then dipped lower to capture your mouth in his.

In one smooth, hard motion, Boba Fett snapped his hips upward, forward, and claimed you for his own.

Your eyes flew open and you let out a muffled scream against his mouth, your feet kicking out briefly, your hips jerking, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. It felt as if you’d been torn open from the inside, like a blade had been thrust up into you, and the stretch was immense. You couldn’t fathom how the whole of him had fit. Your vaginal canal burned terribly, and you couldn’t help but let out several loud sobs at the overwhelming sensation of being filled so deeply. Fett broke his kiss and stared down at you, still buried to the hilt inside of you, unmoving.

“ Easy there, little one . Look at me. I’m inside of you, see? You’re no longer a virgin, at last. How do you feel? Do you want me to stop?” Fett hummed softly, brushing away the tears that streamed down your face with the pad of his thumb, his hips flush with yours. You could feel the dark patch of pubic hair at his groin against your vulva, and the sensation was somehow soothing. Your cunt involuntarily clenched around his member, gradually becoming used to the feeling of him as time dragged on, and you were surprised that you could feel his hardness, the ridges of his glans pressed into your inner walls, the veins on his cock against you. The pain was receding, little by little, as Fett remained motionless and let you get used to his presence. It occurred to you that he was waiting for you to give him permission to move, and your walls fluttered.

“No, no, please don’t pull out. Oh, kriff … it hurts , but it’s getting better. You’re so big . I feel so full. But… I just can’t believe…” You gasped, struggling for words. You swore you could feel Boba Fett in your guts, were shocked that you couldn’t see a bulge in your lower belly where his cock was nestled inside of you, that’s how big he felt. Fett let out an amused chuckle, cutting off your words by pressing a blunt finger to your lips.

“Well, you’d better start believing it… you’ve got a bounty hunter inside of you. Tell me when I can move, mesh’la . I’m getting restless.” Fett replied, and it was then that you noticed the sweat beading his forehead as well, the way his speech was coming in harsh pants, how his arms were shaking with need above you. He needed to move . You could feel your swollen cunt becoming hotter and hotter, your natural lubrication helping to ease the pinching burn that had settled deep within you, and you found you wanted him to move too. Your tears had dried for the most part, although you had a feeling he’d have you weeping again soon enough. You shakily moved your hands up to cup Fett’s sharp cheekbones, his eyes locking onto yours with the movement. The words that next left your lips, barely above a whisper, were ones that you never imagined you would find yourself saying to this man, but they resulted in an amorous growl that sent a thrill through your bloodstream and straight to your pussy.

“Fuck me, Boba.”

His first few thrusts shook your entire body, and you let out a grunting squeal for each one, your breasts jiggling from the force of them, although Fett still moved slowly. It wasn’t until you wrapped your legs around his calves, pulling him in closer, and settled your palms on the tense cheeks of his ass, urging him to pump into you harder, faster, that he began to really fuck you. With every thrust, your pain turned more and more into pleasure, a white-hot ball tightening within your belly until it felt as if liquid fire was seeping through every inch of your body. If this was what being fucked was like, you never wanted it to end.

“ Stars , princess… you’re so kriffing tight . The tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked… you’re going to make me cum soon…” Fett groaned, and you let out a keening wail in response, focused only on the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, his glans bumping that same spongy spot inside you that his fingers had seemed to find immediately, the obscene slap of his thighs colliding with yours again and again and again. You could hear your own juices sloshing against his cock’s pounding, a squelching that only became louder and wetter as your movements continued.

Neither one of you lasted very long. Combined with Boba’s slow, deep strokes into your pussy, and his fingers dancing over your clit, helping you along towards yet another climax, you found yourself hoarsely shouting his name over and over again, your nails raking red slashes down his back in pure ecstasy. Fett lifted up your hips into his hands, arching your bottom off the cot, his angle becoming impossibly deeper, and you shrieked aloud. You wondered if the durasteel walls of the Slave I were soundproof, but found that you didn’t care. You didn’t care whether the entirety of Cloud City heard Boba Fett fucking you - you wanted them to. This was happening , you had manifested this for yourself through nothing but determination, and if the whole colony heard you being claimed by the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunter, so be it.

“Cum for me, girl. That’s it, let go… cum all over my cock, like you’ve always wanted to…” Fett urged you, his own voice shaking as he frantically worked your clit with his fingers, his thrusts becoming manic and sloppy. You could tell he was getting close - you could feel his cock twitching violently inside of you, preparing to shoot his load up into you. Your own orgasm hit you unexpectedly, just one expertly angled stroke from Fett’s length, a circular grind of his hips, and your vision instantly blacked out. You felt as if a thermal detonator had gone off in your pussy, and all sound seemed to go out of the room. Your mouth was gaping open, you knew you were screaming at the top of your lungs, but all you could hear was a high-pitched static noise, you were so far gone. You didn’t even hear Fett’s answering groan as he spilled his seed inside of you moments later, the clamping of your walls around his cock proving to be too much for him to withstand. The feeling of him emptying his balls within you was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and only served to bring your peak to a new height. You could feel him pulsating, your cunt milking him for all that it was worth, his hot spunk filling you up, marking you where no one else ever had before.

The next thing you remembered was lying in Boba Fett’s arms, weeping openly into the crook of his neck. You weren’t sure if you had momentarily passed out from the pleasure, but you had no memory of him flipping you over so that you were lying atop him, draped across his broad chest, his cock still sheathed within you, a strong but pleasant ache settled deep between your thighs - a lingering effect of your lost virginity. Fett, despite all of his cultivated roughness, let you cry it out, one arm thrown lazily across your waist, his free hand cupping the back of your head. His fingers scratched at your scalp, and you could have sworn you heard him murmuring softly in a guttural tongue, possibly that Mando’a he occasionally spoke in - the idea that he may’ve been trying to comfort you in his own awkward way only made you cry harder. Your sobs finally ebbed away into sniffles and quiet hiccups after a short while, and Fett slowly rolled you off of him, his cock leaving you with a wet squelch that gave your oversensitive clit a jolt and left you feeling sore and empty. You laid on the bed and watched Boba Fett’s cum ooze out from between your legs and onto the blankets, stained pink from your breaking in, and you flushed as he rose and stood at the foot of the cot, cleaning both your arousals from his softening cock with a cloth he’d retrieved from a compartment hidden in the wall. You wished you could have kept his cum inside of you forever, in a way, although you supposed the bruises his mouth and fingers had left on your skin would serve as reminders as well. You still couldn’t believe the night events had really happened, after so long.

“Are you alright, girl? You came quite hard. I thought you were going to break my cock right off, the way you were clenching me. How do you feel, now that you’ve been properly fucked?” His tone was one of gentle teasing, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you, a smirk upon his pouty lips.

“That… that was incredible. I’m sorry, it’s just… I can’t believe I just got fucked by Boba Fett .” You replied, and hid your face in your hands, embarrassed as soon as the words had tumbled from your mouth. Fett, good-natured and relaxed after a satisfying fuck, snorted and shook his head. He sauntered past the cot on his way to the ‘fresher and patted your thigh as if to assure you that ‘ Yes, you sweet little fool, all of your wildest dreams have come true.’ He didn’t think he’d ever understand these beings who sought him out as part of their bizarre fantasies, but he didn’t care - it got him laid, and sometimes the temporary company was even enjoyable. This hopeless romantic of a virgin - well, former virgin - had been one of the better ones. As he took one last glance at you before the door slid shut, as you nodded off in his bed, Fett found himself feeling glad he hadn’t rejected your advances, as he’d originally been planning to do. It was a shame he couldn’t keep you around a while longer - you were easy to please, and so eager to learn - but there was business to be done tomorrow, and it was nothing that an innocent girl like you should be caught up in.

Not this time, anyway.

The first light of dawn was just beginning to emerge over the swirling mists of tibanna gas that enclosed Cloud City, and you were in a panic. You’d been awakened from your blissed out slumber by the incessant bleating of your comlink, buried within the confines of your purse, which lay in a heap along with your clothing on the durasteel floor of Boba Fett’s transport, the Slave I . Jumping up from the cot and wincing at the sharp sting radiating from between your legs, you’d rifled through your belongings until you’d uncovered the damn contraption. Pressing the button on the side, a scrawl of Aurebesh sprang into being, and your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. Dank farrik. Your roommate.

‘Where are you?’ The urgency of the message was clear, having been sent thrice over the past half hour. You’d be surprised if they hadn’t already raised the alarm, that the Wing Guard wasn’t already out combing the city for you. They’d begged you to be home by dawn, and by the sound of the traffic outside, it was more around the time of the typical morning commute, a full hour or so later.

You had to leave. Now .

There was no sign of Boba Fett.

You didn’t remember falling asleep after your tryst the previous night, but you had a vague memory of Fett waking you in the night and ordering you into the ‘fresher to urinate, and you’d been alone in the pilot’s quarters when the comm had begun chirping later on, fully waking you up. It didn’t look like anyone else had joined you on the cot overnight, and as you’d scrambled to scoop up your bag and don last night’s outfit - you were pretty sure your dress was inside out, but you found yourself beyond caring - and descend the ladder leading back into the cockpit area, you’d discovered where Fett had gone. He sat motionless in the pilot’s chair, fully armored and helmeted, studying a holo of what appeared to be the inner passageways of the Administrator’s Palace that was being projected from the ship’s dash, emanating a flickering, ghostly blue light in the early morning rays visible through the viewport. You stopped short across from the chair, and although Fett’s head didn’t turn even a hair, you knew he was watching you, wondering what you were doing.

“I have to go. I was supposed to be home by now and my roommate’s going to kill me.” You explained briefly, then dashed towards the ramp leading to the docking bay outside. You felt as if you had become part of a child's bedtime story, a maiden whose jewel-encrusted gown would disintegrate to rags, whose enchanted ship would transform back into a jogan fruit if she didn’t return home by the stroke of midnight. This was all over too soon. As you rushed down the platform, you wondered whether Fett would say anything or if that would be it, if he would just watch you run off into the sunrise and consider his work done. You’d made it just beyond the confines of the ship’s overhang when you heard the telltale sound of spurs from behind you, slow and methodical steps. You stumbled to a halt and turned back to face the Slave I. Boba Fett stood there motionlessly, observing you.

“Tell me, sarad’ika. Was it everything you've dreamed of?” The helmeted figure asked slyly, standing on the boarding ramp of his imposing, mottled ship, one hand resting casually on the overstuffed utility belt at his waist, the other dangling free at his side. You felt yourself flush at his question, knowing he was most likely grinning lecherously underneath his Mandalorian armor, but you still nodded, shifting your weight anxiously from one foot to the other. His gaze still penetrated your very soul from behind that black, T-shaped visor, made you feel so vulnerable.

“Yes. And more. I… I don’t know what to say, other than… thank you.” You softly replied. You wondered, foolishly, if he was expecting payment for his services. Did he consider his conquest of you to be a job of sorts? Your answer came with a sharp gesture of his hand, cutting a quick line across the morning air between the two of you.

“Then don’t say anything.” With a barely perceptible nod, Fett turned on his heel and began to make his way back into the confines of his ship. Something about watching him walk away from you made your heart hurt, although you doubted you would ever be able to explain why. You wondered whether you could make something more of this, something long-term and lasting, perhaps beyond your better judgement. You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again, and still felt his presence inside of you, the throb left behind by his considerable length filling you, and you already knew that you’d never want anyone else. You were addicted. You stepped forward, back towards the Slave I and its retreating owner, hopeful. If Rystáll Sant could do it, why couldn’t you?

“Boba, wait. ”

Fett’s form stilled, halfway up the ramp, and he turned to face you once more, the dented helmet cocked to one side, obviously intrigued as to what you had to say. You had a feeling he knew what was coming and your stomach somersaulted at the thought, but you heard the words leave your mouth anyway, heard the pining in your voice despite your best efforts to sound neutral, unattached.

“When can I see you again?”

‘ Fierfek, you stupid girl. Now he’ll think you’ve gone and fallen in love with him, just because he was your first fuck …’ Your mind swam, and you wished you could rewind time, seal your mouth shut, take back the words as soon as you had spoken them, until you saw that Fett was sauntering down the ramp towards you. You froze, every muscle in your body turning to ice, as he strode towards you, coming to a stop directly in front of you. He was close enough that you could have reached out and placed your hands on his chest, thrown your arms around his neck, but you found you didn’t have the courage.

“You can’t.” Fett answered you brusquely, emotionlessly, and you felt like he had slapped you across the face. You weren’t sure what exactly you’d been expecting when he’d approached you. The bounty hunter deftly reached out and cupped your chin between his index finger and thumb, pinching the skin in his grip and holding your gaze level with his. That visor was so dark, but you were so close you still could've sworn that you could see his face through the darkened T-shape, and that he was smiling . He released his grip and tapped the underside of your chin with his fingers, in an oddly playful manner. “Run along, little one. Go home. You don’t want to get into any more trouble now, do you?”

With that, he whirled back around, cape flapping on his shoulder, marching solemnly back into the blackness concealing the innards of the Slave I. The ramp closed behind him with an anticlimactic hiss , and Boba Fett was gone from your life, just as quickly as he had entered it.

Your ‘walk of shame’ back to your apartment felt more like a victory march, and when you walked into your living quarters, your roommate rushed towards you and demanded to know what had happened, where you had been, if you were okay. You only gave them a knowing smile. Maybe someday you’d share the story of your night with Boba Fett, but for now, you thought you’d let them try to put the pieces together on their own.

Later that evening, when Baron Calrissian announced the Imperial takeover of Cloud City and the evacuation orders were given, as you packed a bag full of necessities and boarded a transport out of the city and listened to the whispered rumors that Han Solo had been frozen in carbonite and abducted from the Administrator’s Palace by a mercenary wearing Mandalorian armor, you couldn’t help but smile.

‘Well, kriff. He’s actually done it.’ You thought smugly, grinning to yourself amidst a sea of panic. You hoped Boba Fett had been able to escape off-world with his bounty before the Wing Guard had sealed the docking bays, but you didn’t think you truly had anything to worry about. There was a reason why he was considered the best in the business.

Boba Fett had done it.

Right after he’d done you.

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch 20

You find yourself in a forest

Odd when did you get here? Had you walked here? Driven? You...you can't seem to remember. How on Earth did you get here?

(The contents of this chapter are sexual in nature please don’t interact if you are below the age of 18)

Oh Gods you hoped you didn't have an episode while driving again. Even under normal circumstances just the thought upsets you but after finding out Toby's life changing accident the thought now left an acidic taste in your mouth. Similar to when you're sick and have the residual vomit in your mouth no matter how many times you brush your teeth. A very unpleasant experience.

A tall figure looms in the distance taking you out of your musings. You've seen him before, haven't you? Long spindly tendrils stretch out from behind the figure, much like the whisps that led you through the shop the other day. Had it not been for their serpent like movements you'd have thought the being was just another tree in this dense dark forest.

This sure didn't look like the Monongahela. You close your eyes for a moment, just resting your eyes. Your head feels so foggy right now.

You're so tired too, have you been sleeping? When was the last time you slept? Why can't you remember?

It's fine calm down, you just need to think. The fog is so thick, it's hard to focus. Why can't you just focus?

Come on YN, you need to focus, focus, focus!

In an instant that figure is right in front of you. They are so much taller, craning your head back doesn't do much to get a good look at them. You can't make any features out on the shockingly pale face. And here you thought Toby was deathly pale, you may as well have been staring death in the face. Given the black suit and red tie you might actually be.

Being dead would explain the fogginess of your memories and why things aren't exactly connecting. Had Toby killed you? No, he wouldn't. Maybe the two of you got into an accident on the drive home.

But where's Toby then? Had he survived the crash? Is it bad to hope he's dead too? That boy wouldn't be able to handle another traumatic event. Hell he seemed one major inconvenience away from peacing out when you'd met him, he still has those moments.

Where are you going to go? This wasn't anything like you were expecting, but the again Hollywood's never given you any sort of accuracy before why would they be the ones reporting on life's biggest mystery?

A tendril slips its way around your throat tilting your head up to stare into the pale face of the figure before you. Squeezing as it does, gently not so much to actually suffocate you.

'You are not dead child, you could not be further from it.' a masculine voice echos in the empty space of you mind. The voice rang so clearly it rattled the walls of your brain.

A literal 'brain goes brrrr' moment.

If you aren't dead then...this has to be a dream. The only other explanation for why everything feels so fuzzy and you have so much brain fog.

'Correct, you are in a dream...of sorts. I've summoned you here to review your progress thus far. I must say you've far exceeded my expectations, no thanks to my failing puppet.' the tendril tightens around your neck, again not enough to choke you out. Just a very firm squeeze.

Firm enough that it has you pressing your thighs together. Haven't you taken care of this yet? This situation is so embarrassing because even though you can't see the expression of the being before you they have an omnipotent air around them.

They sense your hunger building, maybe that's why the appendage around your throat tightens once again. You're left a bit breathless.

'I'm very pleased with both of your results. A reward is in order,'

The figure's head moves slightly as their attention shifts to something behind you.

'I believe he'll benefit from this as well.'

He?

Without a moment to think anything else, not like you could in your current state, you were turned around. Where you came face to face with....another faceless entity? No the man in front of you clearly had a face – had the tall pale being not? The man's face was there but you couldn't really make out what you were looking at like it was pixelated in some way to protect his identity on the evening news.

You could see that he had a mop of brunette waves, unlike the tall one who was to your knowledge completely bald. More tendrils wrap themselves around you, on your legs and around your mid section. Legs are spread apart as you're lifted off the ground.

Open and inviting to the form before you. Just what kind of reward is this?

Before you can protest you quickly become aware of the fact that you are naked.. Bare chest on display as nipples harden in the chill of the air. You squirm to try and get away but the hold the tendrils have is too strong for you to break out of. Your legs are lifted until they are face level with the person in front of you.

Yup totally a dream, just a monster fucker having a wet dream. Normal everyday thing.

'To be quite honest it's less of a reward and more a test. But it should prove enjoyable for both of you.'

Hearing the sound of a zipper you freeze, out of shock rather than fear. You were joking when you'd called this a sex dream. You've never had one before and it's surprising to say the least. Do all sex dreams start this strangely?

A pair of fingers find their way to your mouth. Without thinking you opened up and took them in. Letting them go as far back as they could. They played with your tongue, dancing up and down it. Pressing hard here giving a rub there, shoving it between the two of them making sure your saliva coated every single spare centimeter of them.

You found it a bit difficult to breathe around them let alone swallow. They had a salty with a hint of something metallic, like he had an open paper cut. The texture was rough and very different from your own fingers, you could feel divots near the nail bed and loose hardened skin scrapping the inside of your mouth. Sometimes when you swallowed around the fingers you'd get a sharp thrust in return, like he was trying to hit the back of your throat with only his fingers. You nearly took in his pinkie like this. A harsh groan would follow and you'd moan along.

All the tendrils on your body gave a light squeeze at the show. You heard a whisper of 'Good pets.', this time it was echoed through the forest surrounding you.

“Fuck off.” the man who currently had his fingers nearly reaching down your throat growled out.

Before he he gently grabbed on of your legs, moving your body closer to him. Flutters of lips trailed their way up from your knee to your inner thigh. A playful nip stings a few inches from your core. Involuntarily your thighs press together, squishing the head in between the,. It wasn't long before you felt warm breath blow onto your core. You could hardly keep back the trill when a pair of lips wrapped around your clit and a tongue started to dance circles around it. It was a simple set of motions but ones that seemed to hit just right. You didn't know whether to be thankful or hate the tendrils for preventing you from bucking right into the pleasure.

Taking deep breaths to collect yourself didn't work if anything it made for a pseudo pant which left you even more feverish than the lapping at you clit. He flattens his tongue against you and you shudder as he slowly drags it along your slit giving a flick to the hood of you clit. He angled his tongue so he could carefully dance that line between your clit and it's hood. Toes curling you aren't able to contain yourself anymore. A panting and flushed mess as you moan around his fingers, a trail of saliva runs out from the corner of your mouth and down the expanse of your neck. You can't stop your hips as they weakly buck towards him, still stifled by the tendrils stilling them.

The man between your legs stiffens.

Even with him looking right up at you, you can't see past whatever fog is playing at your mind, but you do know that he's just as much of a mess as you are in the moment. Just from going down on you, the poor boy, now you really want to shove his face deep between your legs and not let up until he can't breathe.

Maybe you can.

Your hands haven't been bound like your legs, so you should have no problem grabbing his hair and pulling him in.

'Oh, he'd like that very much. Give it a go pet.' the disembodied voice says, once again in your head.

Wasn't there a body to go with that voice earlier? Yeah, there was, where'd he go?

Your legs are still bound by the tendrils but the tall man is no where in sight anymore. What a strange dream.

A wet dream you remember as your focus returns to the man between your legs. Might as well make the most of it.

The man seems distracted as he glares at something behind you, but you know nothing it there – you've just checked. This gives you the perfect opportunity to grab a fist full of his hair and drag him back down to your puffy lips to finish what he started. He was more than willing as he needed no further instructions and went straight to giving light kitten licks to your aching clit. Frustrated pants and whimpers leave you as he just works you up and pulls back. He's teasing at this point and seems very pleased with himself.

“Pl-please.” you keen when he pulls away for a second time. Instead of answering your plea he massages the meat of your thighs as he stares up at you from between your leg. You can see one hand in between his own legs most likely toying with his cock like he toys with you.

Just the thought of his cock has you bucking into him, but it seems to do the trick. He begins to suck on your bud again. This time you have a bit more mobility and can grind your hips down in time to his sucking. It's getting wetter and sloppier down there by the second, like he's trying to collect all the liquid in his mouth but can't really hold it there.

For a third time the pleasure stops, and you feel like crying. It's so unfair your first wet dream and you're saddled with an edger.

You let out a whimper and raise your hips again in a pathetic attempt to demand his attention back to where it's needed. While his face is still featureless to you there's a sense of smugness around him. Oh joy a sadist. A harsh spit rings through your dream bubble. But you don't feel anything land on you.

A wet squelching sound can be heard. The blood just doesn't know where to go anymore, to your face or to your core? Clearly none of it's going to your brain when you only thought it , 'Oh shit he's jerking off.' on repeat.

You're very thankful that the tendrils are just holding you up instead of keeping you spread now as you're able to squeeze and rub your thighs together. Trying to get any friction to alleviate your ache. All while you cry and choke around thick fingers.

“Pretty mouse.” his voice is a rumbled timber.

Fingers press harshly into your tongue before slowly pulling out and spreading you legs back open for him. His thumb trails your inner thigh, the nail scratching the unmarked skin as it went. Making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he let out a breathy chuckle.

He began toying around with your folds with his two spit soaked fingers, “Yea, li-ike that? Make some more pretty noises for me.” His fingers twirled around the entrance of your pussy. Lighting the nerves on fire with each passing circle they made.

Gods, he hasn't even been in you and you're already about to cum. But he was ignoring your clit now. Snaking a hand down you settle it above his and before you can even touch it he's smacking your hand away.

“Nuh-uh mouse.” he gives a sharp smack to your bud, making you jolt as you let out a little 'eep'.

He laughs at your reaction, “Don't worry I'm going to-to-to make you feel so good.” he smirks, “in time.”

That'd be a no for you. You can take three edgings but four is just asking too much, especially for a dream. You aren't one to be bratty often but you're already pent up in the waking world like hell you'll let yourself be edged in the dream one too.

“Fuck you're cute, even when you pout.” suddenly a hand grasps your jaw and pulls you down, it's a bit uncomfortable with your bindings still in place. Your faces are just inches apart right now and you still have no clue who he's supposed to be but sometimes faces are hard for brains to make up. He could just be someone you saw in town once and don't remember.

He leans in and kisses you. It doesn't take anything for you to open your mouth and let him in, there's a hint of tang on his tongue. No discernible taste just a bit of tang. He makes sure to glide his tongue across every inch of your mouth, making sure you taste yourself. You can feel his smirk in the kiss as you moan. Can feel the pumping of his hand on his cock now that you're so close together.

The thought of his cock makes your core pulse with need. And as if he can read your thoughts he pulls away, leaving you panting and horny. “Now that's a cute look too.” The tip of his middle and ring fingers are in you spreading the ring of your entrance far apart. “But then this on-one's my favorite.”

As you writhe and moan you can't help but think of how much you hate that boyish lilt in his tone right now. He scissors his fingers and twists them this way and that, occasionally plunging them as deep into you as they can go. And while your panting and whimpers are lovely he quickly figures out that you're much more receptive to the teasing of your entrance. The way just the tips of his fingers work in lighting up hundreds of nerve endings.

How he can leave you right on the edge of orgasm only to take that away by pulling out slightly or diving in further. It's a good game, but he eventually grows bored of just your facial expressions and wants to chase his own release. So, he leans in towards your core to watch the way your walls clamp down on his finger tips as they spread you apart. Trying to squeeze around the foreign objects to eject them out but if he surges his hand forward the walls constrict in a way the feels like they are trying to suck him deeper into your depth. All the while you moan and whine, just for him.

So enraptured with your being he isn't really paying attention to you anymore. You want to end his teasing, you just want to cum. It's not surprising at all that he hardly noticed you grabbed a fist full of his hair. But he certainly notices when you pull him to your core and hold him in place. The pressure on his scalp letting him know just how tightly you have him.

There's a moment when he does nothing, just stares up at you from between you legs. Through hooded eyes he continues to make eye contact as he brings his mouth to your clit, even as you buck into him.

“Good boy.” the words just tumbled from your mouth in a moan.

One that gets echoed by the man kneeling before you. It's a needy little moan, one that changes things.

“Good boy,” he goes faster, not just on your clit but he also starts stroking himself faster.

“Ah – aaah, good boys wai-it oh – wait to cum.” his hand slows and you hear a mumbled 'Good boys wait.' causing your grip to tighten as you pull him up by his hair to look into your face – even if you can't see his.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“N-no!” you can feel the shiver that runs through him.

Big guy isn't so tough now that you found his kink, damn this dream sure is exploring a lot of your owns though.

“That's right, now you've been awfully naughty. Edging me like that. Doesn't seem like you want to be a 'good boy'.”

“I want to – want to be a good boy, very good boy.” his hand is still going, you'd honestly be surprised he hadn't cum if this weren't a dream.

“Hmm, finish what you started. Then...maybe you'll be my good boy.” a series of moans followed as he bucked into his hand. Apparently you'd said a trigger for him and he came just from that alone.

You want to find it in you to play up being upset with him maybe even play up how he wasn't a good boy after all – cumming like that. But you could tell from the way his shoulders sank in that he felt ashamed that he didn't last until you were done with him.

Sometimes a gentle hand is needed. “Oh my poor baby. I didn't know how excited that'd make you.” you cup his face gently. He's trying to make himself smaller. “Now now of that, you can make it up to me.” He perks up.

“You want to make it up to me right?” you slide back away letting you hands fall off his chin, and he follows your movement leaning to feel your touch again.

You give him a smile and stroke his cheek, “Then make me cum.” it was a breathy whisper as you took the opening to initiate a kiss with him. No tongue was involved this time just an urgent need and movement of lips.

You pull away from him and get a small whimper in return. Pay back would sure be sweet right now had he not riled you up this much then got off himself.

He's sliding back down between your legs, barely giving himself a chance to settle in before twirling his fingers just outside your entrance. Face diving to lick several long stripes along your slit.

'Seems everything is in order here. I trust you both will behave in my absence.'

“What?”

Waking up horny and unsatisfied with the fainest memory of your wet dream fading further and further from memory was definitely one way to start your Saturday. But it wasn't the preferable way or a fun one. Especially when it involved a pair of soaking panties and an hour to even satiate your needy pussy.

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta fanfic #masky x reader #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #masky #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader

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drownmeinbeauty · 2 years ago

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APARTMENT LIVING

Only Murders in the Building, the comedy with Steve Martin, Selena Gomez and Martin Short, is framed around an unsolved murder at a grand old Upper West Side co-op called The Arconia. The murder isn't all that mysterious. What gives pleasure are the odd friendships between these three characters, the deftness of Short's performance, and the depiction of life inside a New York City co-op.

The Arconia is modeled on the Belnord Apartments, a courtyard building on West 86th Street and Broadway that stretches the entire northeast block. It's like its own country, with its own landscape leadership. And all three of our heroes have tenuous citizenship here. Martin is an out-of-work TV-actor living off residuals, Short is a Broadway producer living in debt, and Gomez is a twenty-something house-sitting for a wealthy aunt. The prime suspect, and the wealthiest resident we meet, owns a string of delis. None are the old-money types we'd expect.

There are small truths here about apartment living. These three amateur detectives don't meet until they're evacuated by NYPD after the murder and recognize each other at a nearby bar. They make assumptions about their neighbors based on sounds coming through vents and garbage dropped down chutes. The only time they see their neighbors is in the lobby and the elevator. And the only time they speak to their neighbors is at co-op board meetings, and then it is contentiously. The board is led by an unflappable coot in a fur coat and dramatic costume jewelry, whose chief interest is minding other people's business.

The show gives us tantalizing glimpses of the Arconia's geography. Units at the Belnord are so large that their selling plans look like suburban houses, with internal stairs and windows on three more sides. The building resembles James Wines' Highrise of Homes project, with houses set on concrete floor slabs like cars in a garage.

On the rooftop, the pinnacle, there are champagne-fueled parties and intimate exchanges, which exercise freedom, violence and dreams. The superintendent lives in a ground floor unit, with skeleton keys that provide discrete access to any unit and knowledge of any resident. The first season comes to a dramatic (and implausible) end in the basement heating and ventilation plant, the heart of the building, whose machines are turned to ill use.

The tagline on the Belnord website is "Window to the Park." The apartment is actually several blocks from Central Park, and connecting with its greenery is not a primary concern. Living here secures one's social status and property value. Most crucially, like all apartments, it allows people to safely exercise their lives, acting out their fantasies of living and of themselves. When alone inside, Short surrounds himself with posters from the failed musicals he produced. Martin stacks green and red peppers in compulsively neat rows in his otherwise empty refrigerator. Gomez paints a graphic novel on her walls. It's this unnatural, extreme privacy that distorts personal identity and thwarts deep community. And it's this, more than anything else, that shapes everyday life in Manhattan.

#ARCHITECTURE #TELEVISION #MYSTERY #APARTMENT #NEW YORK CITY #ARCONIA #CO-OP APARTMENT

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nierly-amazing · 4 years ago

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NieR: Theatrical Orchestra 12020--Automata dramatic reading transcript

Alt title: THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO FUCKING MUCH IT HURTS

Art and transcript provided by @shirl_geem on twitter! Follow her, her art’s great!

NieR:Theatrical Orchestra 12020

NieR:Automata

Investigative Operation Overview

New machine-lifeform signatures detected in a previously neutralized enemy base. Said base is a large-scale facility located in the Pacific Ocean.

Communication from the squad stationed there was ceased, making the situation impossible to ascertain. Satellite photography is also impossible due to the base's location on the sea floor.

The Council of Humanity is making preparations to retake the base, but understands it may be a trap created with a new type of enemy weapon.

For this reason, the Council of Humanity has decided to send a small team as an advance scout force.

The task of investigating the base and ascertaining the safety of its personnel has been assigned to YoRHa units 2B and 9S.

--Operation Name: Uranus

Advance Force Registered:

YoRHa units 2B and 9S

Specifications:

Modified flight units (underwater-use)

Close-combat assault armor

Type-3 swords, pressure-resistant suits, anti-icing coating

12 modified canaries, salvageable backup memory storage, reactive barriers

--Escort Unit Details:

Lead escort duties to be carried out by Hunter units K1 and K2

K1 unit overview: 8 flight units, 1 transport unit

K2 unit overview: 4 flight units, 1 Hummingbird aircraft carrier

Defensive radius: From 8,000 meters above the objective to the ocean's surface.

--Status of the Target Area:

Depth: 1,200 meters

Water temperature: 3 degrees centigrade

Machine lifeform energy: 3,200 units

Estimated machine lifeform count: 32 individuals

Communication status: Unknown

--Supplementary Information:

Target is 32 km north of the hostile submerged facility that was destroyed on August 13th. According to the deep-sea patrol unit, there is no relation between that facility and the target.

However, as there remains the possibility of attack by escaped machine lifeforms or rogue androids, all information pertaining to Operation Atlantis is to be disclosed beforehand.

Time to Arrival at Objective: *10 second timer appears on the screen*

This operation has been placed under direct control of the Council of Humanity. Any recording or other archival action is strictly forbidden.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

2B: So this is the machine lifeforms' advance base...

9S (narrating): The base we infiltrated was an expansive underground space with countless, intertwining support pillars.

2B: Temperatures are low... Pod, scan the periphery.

Pod 042: No machine lifeforms detected. No signals found on sensors or canary system.

2B: Is that... a dead android? Pod!

Pod 042: Affiliation unknown. Possibly a member of the unit stationed here. Fusion reactor non-functional. Heat analysis indicates it was destroyed more than 48 hours ago. No external wounding detected.

2B: No external wounding? Could it have been an EMP blast?

Pod 042: Negative. No characteristics of EMP damage detected in circuits.

9S (narrating): As we looked around, we found more androids strewn across the room like a child's forgotten toys.

2B: What on earth happened here...?

9S (narrating): The machine lifeforms that supposedly destroyed these units were nowhere to be found. All that remained was a chill, an eerie silence, and an android mass grave.

2B: Access the Bunker database.

Pod 042: Negative. Bunker communication is not possible.

2B: Keep scanning the periphery and let me know if you find any irregularities.

Pod 042: Affirmative.

9S (narrating): It was a gloomy place, untouched by the sun. The ceiling was a mass of cables tangled around interlocking steel. It was like being inside some kind of massive creature...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Record Archivist: Pod 153

Analysis: Stationed friendly squad consisted of 36 individuals. Only eight individuals were confirmed in the target area.

Hypotheses for the other 28 individuals: Abduction. Predation. Desertion. Rebellion.

Proposal: Commence preparations for close combat.

Record Archivist: Pod 153

Analysis: Target base consists of four strata

Current location: First stratum

Area: 32,000 square meters

Temperature: 2 degrees centigrade

Humidity: 88%

Scans indicate a high probability that this area is a hangar for machine lifeforms.

Record Archivist: Pod 153

Alert: Examination of target's first stratum complete. Cause of androids' cease in function remains unclear. There is a high probability that neglecting to investigate this factor may cause impediments to the main force that follows us.

Proposal: Investigate the target's second stratum.

Alert: Target's second stratum reached.

Alert: Android bodily fluids detected on nearby wall. The residual shape appears to form sequences of letters.

Hypothesis: They are warning messages left by androids while still alive.

Analysis: The messages are as follows:

"The Bunker will fall"

"Destroy Command"

"Run"

"They must be killed"

"Help" "Help" "Help"

"Help"

Hypothesis: Thought circuitry of corresponding androids underwent some manner of attack.

Analysis: There exists a weapon in the base that can cause a logic infection.

Proposal: Hack the central cortex of the base.

Alert: Enemy thought center reached.

Analysis: Protection of YoRHa unit 9S is top priority.

Alert: Deploying virtual canary.

Proposal: Encrypt channels to long-term memory areas.

Proposal: Increase speed of thought-analysis region.

Alert: Central memory space located. 82 hostile defense layers and 1,343 attack-type security systems detected.

Alert: Virus employed by enemy defense layers. Executing sustained vaccine deployment.

Commencing Assault

Analysis: Defensive layers of central memory space infiltrated.

Data recovery and decoding complete.

Initializing visualization and extraction of records.

Visualization: 20%

Visualization: 40%

Visualization: 80%

Visualization complete.

Extracting...

Stratagem Information 111029E

Analysis of intercepted communications from the human army over a period of time has yielded the following data:

The majority of cargo bound for the human server on the moon consists of empty containers camouflaged as supplies.

Specific sequence patterns have been identified in video communications from the Council of Humanity.

Stratagem Information 111029E

Multiple models of supposition have been created based on the results of the above analysis.

Of these, the most probably conclusions are as follows:

The existence of the Council of Humanity is a pretense.

Humans are already extinct.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

9S: The Council of Humanity on the moon... So mankind... doesn't exist? No, this is a trap. The enemy is trying to make us second-guess ourselves. Pod, use laser measuring to reveal the structure of the enemy base.

Pod 153: Affirmative.

9S: 2B, I think there's a good chance this base is some kind of tra... 2B? Huh? Where'd she go?

Pod 153: Analysis complete. Displaying base structure.

9S: First we should figure out where 2B... Wait, this base is weird. There's one massive core at the center with a network of pathways for energy conveyance. It's almost like it's one big machine lifeform...

Pod 153: Alert: High-frequency vibrations detected in lower levels.

9S: High fre-- Agh!

2B (narrating): As 9S's vision fades out, a mysterious sound grows around him. crunch... Crunch... CRUNCH... The sound gets louder every time.

9S turns toward the sound to see an android's corpse.

A dark shadow sits atop it, its hands clamped around the android's thin, white neck.

9S: No...

2B (narrating): The shadow is 9S, and the corpse he's strangling-- with its slender fingers, black eye covering, all-too-familiar dress, and white hair-- is none other than...

9S: 2B...

2B (narrating): The sight playing out before 9S was one of his own twisted desires.

9S's deepest desires are laid bare. He wanted to kill her. Destroy her. Mutilate her.

9S: No! That's not true! I don't want that at all! Wait, I get it... It's the infection. This is what the enemy's infection does.

2B (narrating): Using thoughts of denial as an opening, the curse spreads. He knew. He was aware she was trying to kill him. He concealed. He hid away his intimate, innermost desires. And there, in the never-ending spiral of massacre... filled with false hopes and prayers... was the pleasure of despair.

9S (screams and cries): Please stop... 2B, I... I...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Record Archivist: Pod 153 Alert: Vital signs declining for YoRHa unit 9S.

Alert: Reverse-hacking by enemy machine lifeform detected.

Alert: Defect detected in memory area.

Alert: Shifting to consciousness-protection mode.

Analysis: Increase in offensive enemy activity confirmed.

Analysis: Maintaining consciousness-defense form is impossible.

Due to the instability of YoRHa unit 9S's consciousness, executing the recommended counterattack is impossible.

Report: The decisions that follow constitute unauthorized support.

Declaration: Commencing rescue of YoRHa unit 9S.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"January 30, 11,942 (4:25 AM) YoRHa unit 9S enters service.

Analysis: This pod initiated recording of pre-determined monitoring subjects 9S and 2B.

Analysis: In the midst of collecting great volumes of data, this Pod ascertained that 9S is repeatedly destroyed by 2B.

Analysis: These acts were not delineated in any Project YoRHa implementation plans this Pod was informed of.

Analysis: Intervention in above acts is impossible for this Pod, as they are delineated processes for the core program of Project YoRHa.

However, this unit, in its continued recording of the activities of YoRHa unit 9S through a repeated cycle of combat and death, ultimately gained a sort of knowledge.

It is an internal command akin to emotion, far beyond any support assignment. The closest human analog would be the feeling called "maternity."

As such, reporting unit Pod 153 will abandon self-defense protocols and shift to launching an offensive against the enemy.

...I am glad to have met you, YoRHa unit 9S.

Farewell."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

9S: Ugh... Okay... I set the trap in the central system, and the camouflage repair on the enemy barrier is complete.

Pod 153 (narrating): The remains of Pod 153-- its circuits thoroughly fried- lie at his feet.

9S: My pod... saved me, huh?

Pod 153 (narrating): 9S hears a sound. He looks up to see 2B standing before him with a calm expression.

9S: Oh, 2B! Glad you're safe. I was just putting a logic virus in the enemy's central--

Pod 153 (narrating): 9S realizes something.

2B: Say, 9S...

Pod 153 (narrating): Her eye covering is gone.

2B: It's cold here, so...

Pod 153 (narrating): She holds a weapon in her hand.

2B: I want you to warm me.

Pod 153 (narrating): And her eyes... are crimson.

9S: She's infected!?

Pod 153 (narrating): Her white blade crashes down on 9S with the swiftness of lightning. 9S blocks the blow with his scabbard.

9S: Damn it! How could this happen?

2B: YoRHa's existence in this world has no meaning.

9S: Requesting access to 2B's motor system! Administer emergency vaccine!

Pod 153 (narrating): His request is denied. 2B swings her sword again, continuing her frenzied dance.

2B: We must stop the tragedy that recurs without end in this meaningless world.

9S: 2B, stop!

2B: Tell me, 9S...

Pod 153 (narrating): With the smallest of openings, 2B's blade finds its mark.

2B: Wouldn't it be wonderful to fade away together?

Pod 153 (narrating): The blade cuts into 9S's armor. A bright red message appears in 9S's vision:

Proposal: Destroy YoRHa unit 2B.

9S: I could never do that!

Pod 153 (narrating): 2B's sword swiftly pierces through the left side of 9S's chest. 2B's blood-red eyes draw close to his face. With defeat so close, 9S plays his final gambit... He places his right hand on 2B's cheek.

9S: ...Commencing hack.

Analysis: Commencing salvage of 2B's consciousness data from the infected area.

"The memories I have left aren't all bad. Wind rolling through ruins. Light flickering on water. The sound of swaying trees. I cherish everything we saw together. This isn't a curse. I... decided to be with her. I made a choice."

2B's infection had spread to the deepest portions of her memory unit. It's a troublesome virus-- and an elegant trap.

For if the infected section is removed, the individual becomes unable to maintain a consciousness.

As 2B's consciousness grows more infected, 9S readies his final, desperate plan.

...It was the only way she could be saved.

9S: Hey, 2B? The time we spent together holds eternal value for me. Heh. I'm serious, you know. I'm swapping your infected area with my memory storage.

"In a sea of collapsing emotions, I saw 2B's light. Even if I've lost everything, I have no regrets. Because I chose to live... for her sake."

--Texts on the screen appear--

9S: You're 2B, right? 9S: My name's 9S. I'm here to provide support.

2B: 9S... the time I was able to spend with you... 2B: It was like memories of pure light... 2B: Thank you... Nine...s.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

2B: ...Gya!

Pod 153: YoRHa unit 2B activation verified. Good morning, 2B.

2B: Pod... Where's 9S!?

9S: Nnngh...

2B: 9S! Are you all right?

9S: 2B... I'm glad you're okay.

2B: We're withdrawing. Pod, administer emergency maintenance to 9S and tell the Bunker--

9S: No. I can't go back. If the infection spreads, I may end up attacking you.

2B: Stop talking nonsense, 9S!

9S: Commencing... self-reformatting...

2B: Stop!

--2B and Pod 153 at the same time as their voices start fading away.--

2B: Please! Please don't die on me! I'm the one who should die! What's the point of my staying in this world? Please don't save me, 9S...

Pod 153: Alert: Infection critical in YoRHa unit 9S. Sensor signals lost. Black box defensive standby-mode activation failed. Temperature rising. Proposal: Cool body and cerebral unit immediately.

9S: Auditory sensors... down.

My temperature regulators are at their limit...

It's so quiet...

So this is how it all ends...

It's sad that I'll lose everything, but...

the curse of my sins will disappear as well...

The time I spent with 2B was precious to me.

There isn't a single detail I don't remember.

...Heh. I bet I sound so stupid right now.

You know... I'd really like to...

go back there with you again... 2B...

2B: Our prayers were never heard.

9S: Our future was closed off.

2B: Despite it all, the fact we'd fought together...

9S: ...was a miracle that shined brightly.

9S: You were always with me...

--9S and 2B at the same time.--

2B: Thank you, Nines.

9S: Thank you, 2B.

#nier #nier automata #nier concert #9s2b #2b9s #supplementary materials #-2B voice- I want you to warm me

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shadowdianne · 4 years ago

Text

Since I'm not totally evil and now that I'm back in front of the computer I'm just going to copy-paste the first 1k or so of what I had written. It's not edited and considering the notes I've erased for this version but the original one has I was still working through plotholes and worldbuilding. The coding of the archive suggests that it was an informal prompt made by a friend -the titles of the things that were inbox prompts were codes for me to know at which bach they were linked to but this one has only the one I reserved for mutuals or friends so I could properly tag them even if the prompt had been sent via, dunno, whatsapp or the like but I have lost the word document I had to know which number represented which mutual so, dunno, friend, if you happen to see this hi xD

Anyway, I'm not going to finish it but if anyone wants to know the original lines of the prompt (looking at you, @yaminoendo, @italymystery-swanqueen ) things were like this:

If anyone recognizes this as something I finally got to publish -dunno, I truly cannot remember if I did but considering that it's not finished if I did it was under some other storyline- tell me so I can try to find the damn link and make another post about it.

Word reached the town’s inn in a slow night, the kind of nights Emma had learnt to dread as much as the ones in where she was unable to have a respite. And so, as rain poured outside and only a selected few patrons battled against the storm that flagged the lands around the wood and stone made houses in order to get a drink from Granny’s, she found herself rising her eyebrows as one of the Lost boys nodded vehemently, fingerless gloves doing nothing to prevent the boy from almost sticking his hands into the dim fireplace the old woman had asked both Ruby and Emma to keep an eye on.

“To keep the sorceress at bay. One never knows with this storm.”

Emma had bitten her tongue at the words: she knew magic was real; had seen the occasional wizard, the kind of one that traveled from town to town, promising magic and dreams to whomever that paid them in silver or a place to stay but Granny’s sorceress; the ones that roamed the forest at night, the ones who vowed to the moon and soil, were just the stories one would tell to children. Children barely younger than the one who, still shivering, put his hands beneath his armpits, rolling his shoulders as the soaked coat he wore, the one with Pan’s colors, remained stuck to his scrawny frame.

“She gave us a piece of gold each.” The boy repeated for the umpteenth time ever since he had come barreling into the inn, soaked to the bone but sporting a toothy grin. “She told us to spread the word. I’m not joking!”

Emma sighed and offered the boy one of the few sips of wine that they still had from the merchants that had passed by the month before last. Despite it being acrid the boy took the small vase and drank it all, smiling at her with his eyebrows raised, some color returning to his cheeks. She was about to offer him some bread when the owner of the inn herself tutted at him, eyes severe.

“Hasn’t the woman already suffered enough? It’s not nice to lie, Nibs.”

The boy opened his mouth, ready to defend himself if the sudden rage on his eyes was anything to go by and Emma sighed inwardly at the moment as she casted a glance around the inn, at the ones who were not-so-subtly listening to the conversation. Sometimes, times like this, she truly felt tired of the gossip-hungry citizens. Always trying to learn about the next detail, the next piece of information they could all later on share, make bets on. The scent of dampened wood and greasy food grounding her as she found Ruby’s eyes at the other end of the place, she shrugged minutedly, asking for the lanky brunette’s friend. Not like she wasn’t able to tackle the woman’s grandmother but Granny had been, and would always be, the kind of person one didn’t want to get on the bade side of.

And she was truly grateful the woman had let her in after last years’ flood.

Ruby bit down on her bottom lip and tilted her head to the right as she placed yet another pint in front of Leroy. The short man was probably the only one who wasn’t pretending to not be listening to the conversation, his glazed eyes trained on both Granny and Nibs and Emma almost smiled a little at that. Placing her hands on the counter, letting the three-quarter sleeves of the cloth she wore rile up on her forearms, she leveled her gaze with Nibs, silently asking him to just let the subject drop.

The boy, however, was still a boy, and he didn’t listen; his pride affronted.

“I’m not lying!” He replied, shaking his head while doing so. “Widow Mills told us that if anyone was able to open the door with the key she would…” He halted there, cheeks reddening and Emma heard Ruby bit back a laugh as the brunette approached the front of the tavern. The Lost Boys were a group of orphans that no one had taken in aside from the small group of women that worked relentlessly under Blue’s orders but they weren’t shy to sex or how it worked. It was interesting seeing Nibs so tong-tied in front of Eugenia, angry or not.

“… marry them.” The boy finished, lamely, but Emma, just as she had had at first, didn’t catch any lies on his words. Despite them being, probably, slightly edited.

And that, despite her best intentions, made her feel interested. Which was something she was purposedly trying not to be.

Widow Mills was the kind of woman that brought attention wherever she went: not new to the town her wealth, her house, close to the end of the town, bigger than any other else and always guarded by a big black cat, helped on cultivating an air of mystery around her. The kind of one that would usually make many spit behind her, muttering words they thought would protect them after she waved and kept on with her day.

And yet, despite that, she was also the woman many thought on trying to get her to remarry, the news of her late husband known and shared within the same walls Emma was currently surrounded by. It was strange, interesting, how the woman seemed to have finally decided to play the game Storybrooke citizens were so adept at; get others to marry. If what Nib was saying was true.

And Emma had the feeling that it was. As shocking as it could sound.

“I guess it’s cat-hunting season then. Isn’t that right, sis?” Leroy’s crude smirk made Emma clench her jaw and say nothing, even when the town’s drunkard eyed her, hoping for someone to reply to his comment but finding very few who seemed open to the idea.

Albeit, the blonde thought as she turned and busied herself, she was fairly certain that within the hour the rest of the Lost Boys would manage to get the entire town known that the brunette woman living at the edge of town was waiting for a husband.

She didn’t exactly knew why that bothered her.

-.-

She had been right, of course, by the next night the town was abuzz with the story from the Lost Boys. The only real socialite the town owned, Kathryn Midas, had even passed by, sharing a few opinions she had on the whole thing. Opinions Emma hadn’t been there to listen to as she had been sent by Granny to run an errand no Lost Boy could tackle quickly enough but ones Ruby had later filled her in as they both readied the tavern for the night.

“Many think she is bluffing.” Ruby shrugged and shook her head as Emma listened to her, using a brief moment of respite to lean against the tavern’s southest wall. The one in where the fireplace rested, the residual heat from it warming the stone slabs of the floor around it and the wooden walls. “A cry for attention.”

“And you think that’s right?”

She tried to sound nonachalant but Ruby narrowed her eyes at her, mirth on her eyes, and Emma knew she had been caught.

It wasn’t, she battled against herself, that she was interested. Not in the same way she suspected others would be. She had barely shared a few words with the woman. It wasn’t like the brunette beauty often came to socialize to the inn.

But she had seen her, walking, buying herbs and other things. Always slightly away from others, the black and red from her clothes obvious as both a statement and a message. She wondered, briefly, while she grazed the mark on her wrist, the one left by broken vows of marriage, if the woman would wear another color next time she saw her. For some reason she couldn’t exactly picture that.

“Want to give it a try, Emma? Is that what this is about?”

Ruby’s voice brought her back from her reverie, the words her friend had just said made Emma narrow her eyes, spine straightening as she walked away from the wall just in time for Eugenia to walk in; stern-looking as ever.

“Don’t be stupid.”

But Ruby didn’t seem convinced. Not like neither of them were able to discuss it further as the old woman frowned at them before putting them both to work, the storm from yesterday already gone and the first round of thirsty villagers about to arrive.

-.-

During the next days many were the ones who arrived to the inn with scratches up their arms; muttering about cats and demons and far too many complicated schemes they couldn’t be bothered to try. Emma remained mute during those tales; silently serving drinks, dodging handsy miners that were the other source of income for the town and pretending she wasn’t entirely far too curious.

And, in a way, that feeling was what made her keep listening to the stories; unwilling to let go the promise of something different in a town she felt drowning her every day it passed.

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peelable-paint-in-india · 3 years ago

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Peel Away Old Booth Coatings | Peelable Paint

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Replace Paint Booth Filters

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Reference:

https://www.techforfly.com/2021/09/how-to-apply-peelable-paint-booth.html

#peelable coating

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araingirl · 4 years ago

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Remnants

The night was calm, and cool-just it had been before six summers. The sky was coated with the layers of black clouds who were busy in confining the moon. Thus, the night queen couldn’t appear to enlighten the ink-smeared environs. Compelled in a way or another, the yellow-golden sodium lamps guarding both sides of the narrow streets of Bakuten were fulfilling the duty on behalf of her, yet, not succeeding completely. Under the old breeze, the ever-pacifying river was flowing like a serpent. The liquid black crystal was shimmering-even in the blinding darkness. Two leaves trembled in the soothing, yet, ruthless late spring breeze, others were asleep. The atmosphere was obscure, soundless, empty…well, really?

“Huh…”

The 21-year-old neko-jin threw his golden orbs to the boundless, limitless blue-inked in murk as a little amount of white smoke touched it-coming out through his exhalations, belonging to the half-burnt cigar held in his hand. His lips were turning dark, nostrils were burning, he was feeling as if any volcano had been placed there. The vapors were getting invisible by each passing moment which felt like an eternity to him. The taste of nicotine wasn’t too delicious to his tongue. Rather, it seemed poisonous to his taste buds-well, it really was. Nonetheless, unknowingly, he couldn’t drop it on the ground and pass by. Mysterious the attraction…no no, the addiction was.

With another puff, he took a look at his wristwatch. 11.00 pm, she should have come by then. At least, the text sent in the afternoon had said so. Only for her, he’d crossed miles after miles and reached here. Since he was in solitude, the piece of cigarette was accompanying him. It couldn’t be said that he was enjoying the company of the cigar but it was better than being lonely on the old bridge of Bakuten, wrapped with many bittersweet memories. He’d met her at first at the edge of the river, on the greeneries. She’d smiled like a rose, leaving her own color in his heart. They had got to know each other on the same bridge. He recalled another event when he’d slept while waiting for her but she hadn’t come. His soul dried. Would she….

“Honk!”

Startled, the raven-haired neko-jin looked back, carefully holding the cigarette. A pair of golden headlights shown in the darkness like the eyes of a tigress, waiting silently for its prey. Pulling the door of the black wagon which was almost invisible due to the excessive and strange depth of the night, she came out. Just like that night, he was surprised. Though he was waiting for her, he actually didn’t expect her to appear there. She pushed the door of her car back as it retreated, producing a shrill. Her black heel-worn feet walked towards him, her eyes were somewhere else.

No smile bloomed in his lips. Of course, she’d changed a lot during these years. Her hair wasn’t spiky anymore, blood tresses were straight, smooth, unbound-crossing her slender waist. He couldn’t differentiate between those kohl-streaked bumblebee eyes and the mysterious, passing night. Skin tone in black and dark-violet fitting outfits bloomed like the moon confined in the four walls of the dense nocturnal clouds, along with her hourglass figure and a slight portion of her cleavage. Wine-shaded lips became a bit thick but it only added intoxication to her features. Smirk didn’t rise there too. Seeing her appearance, Ray felt to fall in love with her once again, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

With a glimpse, Salima examined Ray. She must have admitted, Ray had grown up too. He was always attractive-it just got enhanced during these seasons. Beefy triceps were visible under the half-sleeves of his white collared T-shirt. Well-built, delicious collar bones could clearly be seen because two buttons at the neckline were undone. Eyes were shinier than the sodium street lamps, the perfume emitted from his body was exotic, erotic. Recently, he’d got a haircut but the black yin-yang bandana was present, wrapped around his forehead. He was looking like a seductive gentleman right now with the cigar. Salima praised him inwardly but didn’t utter a single word. Smiting the concrete surface of the bridge with her heels, she moved towards him.

He was waiting for her, enthralled, speechless-yet, his expressions were blank. But at the last second, she turned back, only displaying her back to him. He screwed his brows, not understanding what actually was wrong with her. To his horror, she slid her hand into the pocket of her jeans, hauling it out with a packet of cherry mond cigarettes and a lighter. Putting one on the flame of the navy-blue pocket ignitor, she simply tucked it between her scarlet-painted lips as if it had never been a big deal to her at all. While doing the entire task, she hadn’t looked back at Ray for once, ignoring his existence on that bridge.

The unexpected boldness of the girl who had been a sweetheart once upon a time shook the neko-jin. He was so awestruck that he didn’t even notice that the cigar between the two fingers of his right hand was decaying. The intoxicating fragrance of cherry and nicotine hovered around him. Then, he noticed that his cigarette was on the verge of dying. Quickly turning back, he puffed it, emitting the vapors in the air. The innocent but inebriating aroma of cherries and the dark but desperate stench of clear red wine got dissolved in each other and created a new flavor, hitting both their nostrils.

“What will happen consuming too many cigarettes?” Surprising the man, the woman pronounced first, “You have already started smelling like a pink rose.”

“And you smell like a blue lotus,” He smirked, puffing a bit of smoke, “No worries, when the intoxication will be over, you’ll also be gone.”

“So will you.” Salima voiced, “By the way, I’m getting married in the next month.”

“So am I, in the next week,” Ray breathed, “Needed a bit of celebration.”

“Independent celebration, huh?” The redhead cocked a brow, not facing the neko-jin, “Sure, continue. I’m doing the same. Coz after it, instead of cherry monds, I’ll get to quench blue lagoon.”

“And I’ll guzzle strawberry milkshake.”

“Here I thought you are a man,” The scarlet chuckled, “However, my addiction for coke is no more. It’s harmful to health, you know. I’ve realized it.”

“Am I still addicted to red wine?” Whether the neko-jin questioned the cyber-princess or himself couldn’t be guessed when he sneered, “Whatever, I think I should break the bottles returning home. They can only increase the pain inside the chest.”

Right at the same time, they tossed the residuals of their cigarettes back. Cherry collided with wine and landed on the ground-not a millisecond before or after each other. When their flames met, it lit more brightly. But they didn’t notice it. Their eyes were burning; they didn’t know whether it was for the side-effect of the cigars or something else. Before tears could have blinded them, they straightly walk towards the respective vehicles, rode them and closed the doors. Not even looking back for seeing each other for one last time, they started their cars, they moved towards at 180-degree, pulsating the spring flurries more and more.

Only the remnants to a pair of cigarettes remained on the bridge, hugging each other, smothered, yet the smokes coming out from them implied that love took place here, once upon a time.

________________________________________________________________

Now now...tell me....should I publish this on ffn? xD

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lovemxnot · 5 years ago

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How to kill a dragon | Lee Minho

Genre: how to train your dragon!au, Vikings!au, enemies to lovers.

Pairings: Reader X Minho ft. 3racha & Hyunjin (if you squint).

Word count: 18.7k

Warnings: language, blood and gore, idk they're Vikings what would you expect.

Synopsis: It was your soul's mission to avoid Lee Minho at any cost, but life seemed to have other plans. A plan full of dragons, confusion, lots of tears, Minho, and newly found troubling feelings.

A/N: This will be a two-shot ( honestly just like two more parts and an epilogue left), ‘cause I'm dying over here and can't think of an ending, this has been sitting in my drafts for 4 months now, and I think its time to set it free.

umm, give me feedback? I’d love to hear what you have to say. Anything to motivate me to finish this story. or not, hope you enjoy it anyway !

Steam was still rising from your soup bowl, meaning you haven’t been sitting on the polished wooden bench here for that long. But time could not go any slower than a wagon pulled in mud whenever you were in the presence of the almighty Lee’s family.

All they did throughout the whole weekly-dinners you and your father had with them in the great hall was boast and brag about how powerful they are, how many dragons they’ve slain, how much dragon skin they have hung up on their walls as tapestry, and how many teeth they wore around their necks, one from each species they’ve killed, as a reminder to the townspeople of who they were.

They perceived themselves as royalty. No one actually liked them, but everyone bared with their bragging as they played a crucial role in keeping this land safe and in one piece.

Your spoon kept picking at the peas in your soup, glaring at them, hoping if you keep your head down and stare at your soup long enough, you might turn into one eventually and not have to sit through this agonizingly long Rendezvous.

You wished you could skip these dinners, but being the last and only descendant of the villages’ chief put you in a tight spot. The Lee’s were a compelling family, they kept the village safe for innumerable years, forming a long line of dragon slayers. So to refrain from rendering this town to ashes, your father made sure to always be on good terms with them; thus you have to sit next to your father on a weekly basis in the large hall placed up north the island, where the elite lived, and pretend you don't dream about having their heads on sticks.

Appetite nowhere in sight, you abandoned your soup in favor of playing with the mashed potato next to the rib meat dosed in a brown sauce, smashing it even more. The food looked delicious, props to the chef, but you lost your appetite whenever you were within a mile of their existence. Being their neighbor wasn’t that fun either. Not when you inevitably meet at least one of the Lee’s whenever you step a foot out of your house.

You were beginning to believe this dinner might actually end on a peaceful note this time, without food thrown at each other across the table. Until the pretty faced boy seated in front of you opened his mouth.

“Why so quiet, Y/N? Dragon got your tongue?” Lee Minho, the youngest and last of the Lee’s, teased.

Great, now any sign of you having a civil, quiet meal completely perished.

You glared at him, trying to keep composed and not fall into one of his tricks, you replied, “Having to stare at your face all evening makes me want to hurl.” Alright, so much for keeping your composure.

“Aw, I make you that nervous?” He grinned, mischievousness sparkling in his pretty brown eyes— you meant ugly, ugly mud brown eyes.

“Aw, you want me to shove my foot up your ass?” You taunted.

“Y/N.” your father warned, but you ignored him.

“If that's what you're into,” that made everyone on the table queasy. And made your cheeks burn.

“you're revolting.”

“Come on, princess, I know you like me.”

“ I’d much rather have myself hunted down by a night fury than fraternize with you .” It was infuriating how good looking he and his brothers were.

His oldest brother, the firstborn- Chan, was the only one with a cool-headed mind, he was notoriously known in the village for his strength but he never, not once bragged or acted out as the rest of his younger siblings.

You were even more agitated with the way your heartstrings tugged whenever you set eyes on Minho. But you never liked him. There was no reason behind that, no big fight over who got the last biscuit from the great hall buffets, or quarrels over who-said-what-about-who, and especially no arguments over who was the better Viking because you-along with the whole island- knew that both of you have never killed a dragon.

While 12-year-olds were out there with a dash in their slate, both you and Minho were known for being the most softhearted Vikings this town has seen in decades. It was no victorious title, especially not to Minho, the legacy of the Lee’s must continue on, and you understood how suffocating it must feel to have to bear the weight of the crown he was forced to wear since the day he took his first breath. And it’ll stay on his head till the day he takes his last.

You hated him because he was a stuck up prick that couldn’t stop himself from annoying the living daylights out of you. And as far as you know, he couldn’t stand you either, if the glares he always sent your way weren’t an indication of his hate than you don’t know what it is. But you had no idea why he hated you. You never did anything to him. His hostility originated from the pressure of being the black sheep of the house, but why he chose to take it out on you was a mystery.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Minho had the audacity to smirk, right where you had a steaming hot bowl of soup in your hands reach. Did he not learn from the last time he tried to test you? Was the slimy residue of the goat intestines that left his hair sticky and smelly for a week not enough of a warning of how hands-on you could get? He might need a reminder.

He was right though, Night furies were no joke. They are the most feared type of dragons. It only appears at night, never shows itself. It’s fast, stealthy, and never misses an aim. If it has its eyes on you, then you better pray to Odin to give you enough stamina to outrun it to a shelter, because other than that your chances of encountering a night fury and coming out alive are nigh to none.

It’s sporadic to see a night fury, much less kill one. No one knows how it looks like, and no one has ever caught or killed one. The only sign that one has come to hunt you is their screech and their unmistakable blue plasma fireballs that could burn anything to ashes upon contact.

You could say night furies were the most sought after dragon in the Lee’s, they want them as a trophy. If they could get that under their belts, then this town would not hear the end of it with how high their heads would be in the asses, proudly wearing it as a tophat.

While you were busy thinking of your comeback, You heard his parents and your father joking as always, saying how you two bickered like a married couple, and how perfect the both of you already played into your foreseeable future marriage.

This was another point that added fuel to your hatred. Your families always talked about how the both of you would eventually come around your little fights and marry each other.

With that said, you still would rather be eaten alive by a dragon than have to face the Lee’s for any second longer.

You opened your mouth to say exactly that, but the perusing pair of eyes that were set on you made you shut up. You turned your gaze from Minho's and caught his older brothers instead.

You’ve always admired Chan, he was calm and collected, unlike his baby brother. Fighting in front of him made you feel immature. You two don’t talk often, but you would have absolutely no problem if he were the one you would be betrothed to. He was a very sensible man.

You dropped your gaze back to your plate, letting go of the issue. Shame draped over your shoulders like a coat, you don't mean to pick fights with Minho, but his constant remarks always hit the nail on the head. He knew how to get on your nerves, and it irked you to no end that you give him the power to do so.

“So tomorrow is the big day, yeah?” Minho’s father cut into the pregnant air with his question, gathering everyone’s attention back to him, ignoring you twos previous bickering.

“Yes, the sea has cleared up enough for us to set sail.”

Seeing as it was getting hotter these days, sun heating up your armors, turning them into a portable fireplace, melting your skin. Seas turning back to their natural liquid state, your father and his soldiers were bound to go on to one of their semi-annual sea trips.

It completely slipped your mind. It was always around this time, where the adults of this town sailed out to explore the ambiguous sea, in hopes of finding where all these dragons were nesting, while the younglings stayed back for dragon training.

Dragon training.

You’ve managed to avoid joining training thus far, somehow explaining to your father how important it was for you to learn from the town's seamstress how to sew two pieces of leather skin together. But you had a feeling, not this time.

“ Is Commander Kim still the head trainer for this year's dragon training ?” Your father nodded, then said, “ speaking of dragon training, Y/N will be joining this year.”

That was news to you. You knew it was bound to happen, but knowing that he signed you up behind your back without consulting you first hurt.

“What?!” Your spoon clacked loudly against the plate, gathering everyone's attention.

“You heard me,” He said with finality. “ Minho will be there with you too. One of you might actually kill a dragon this time.” He added humorously as if that would make either of you feel any better. You would rather jump into an active volcano than have to stand next to one of them.

You saw Minho scowl at the mention of his name while everyone else at the table cackled.

“ I bet Y/N will kill one first.” Changbin, the second oldest son and the older twin of the lee pair, made the frown on Minho's face deepen. You could see he was trying to not burst, his hands curled to a fist, knuckles turning white.

Sympathy washed your disdain away, You always felt sorry for Minho whenever his brothers made fun of him. You were an only child and were handled as a relic, meant to be seen and not touched, behind compacted glass. You've never lived a life of sibling rivalry, it wasn't that you envied people with siblings but the thought of having someone to throw the blame on when you tear one of your father's maps seemed pleasant. You always thought blood is thicker than water but witnessing firsthand the unfortunate bulling of lee Minho made you think otherwise.

“ what’s she going to kill it with? Her crossbow?” The younger twin, Jisung, Snorted. You ignored him, both pairs of the twins were nut heads. Albeit good looking nut heads.

“But Father,” you tried to bring the conversation back onto you, letting Minho breath for a second, not that you cared about him, but because you would hate it if you were in his place “the seamstress finally managed to get velvet, she’s going to show me—“

“No more excuses!! this time you're going!” He slammed his fist into the table. He looked mad, you didn’t know the town folks shit-talking about his daughter being too weak to inherit this town bothered him that much. He must have reached his limit for him to slip and yell at his kin in front of other people. “ how can I pass this village down to you if you can’t even face a training dragon?!”

Ouch. That stung. It wasn’t like you wanted to become the next chief, you wanted to explore the world beyond your tiny island, study the plants and animals, experience life in general. But you were tied down by duties and responsibilities.

You were startled into tears, you’ve never felt this humiliated before. Getting yelled at in front of your archnemesis made tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Now you wished you had stared at your soup harder, those peas looked like they were having fun.

Picking up your crossbow from beside your leg, you stood up abruptly. Your soup could not rival the heat that was pooling in your cheeks, eyes glassy, lips pressed to a tight line. “I'll take my leave.” you rushed outside, ignoring your father's calls. Missing the solicitous stare that followed your figure out, his fists unclenching, chest filling up with both gratitude and pity.

II.

Pine green leaves on frail branches tickled your face every once in a while on your trek down the dirt road of the forest, strong winds -signs of an oncoming storm- kept bristling with your hair, braiding it into knots that had you dreading the thought of detangling it. Boots imprinting the unscathed pathway, Crossbow in hand, you shot at any object that moved. Not because you were scared. No, you loved the forest dearly, it was your second home. Whenever you felt stressed, you'd take walks here, or when you had free time you would come and study the plants and animals that habitat here. Which was more often than you'd think.

You wanted to blow off some steam and going to your house wasn’t an option as your father most probably will be there. Unkind words might be exchanged, and you didn't want your father to leave the next day and be gone for who knows how long with fighting as his last memory with his daughter. That's if he comes back this time.

On their last voyage, they came back two weeks later than they said they would. It sent the village into a state of panic with wives thinking they lost their men, kids orphaned, and most importantly - you thought you lost your last living parent, left alone to fend for yourself, forced to fill your father's place at the throne. Alas, it triggered your father into taking action, forcibly joining dragon training was the aftermath of the trepidation. If something were to happen to him you had to be ready to take control. But when worse comes to worst, you weren’t sure you'd be able to breathe the air the same way you did before without grief numbing you, or look at the sun and think of anything except for the two parents you lost, their souls ever-burning as bright as the sun. Colors would all look dull to you, any positive emotions nonexistent in your period of depression. But it was your destiny, to lead these people into many more years to come.

It was well after midnight, dinner lasted as long as usual, but the night seemed young now that you weren’t tied to the bench. Not looking where you were going, You kicked the pebbles under your feet and shot another bolt to the inert tree to your right. Stars provided minimal light, filling the forest with an eerie darkness, you tuck your hair behind your ears every time mother nature played and whirled it into your face. The dark shadows of the night didn’t affect you, it wasn’t your enemy, and right now it gave you more comfort than anyone could, letting you be with your thoughts. You had the forest memorized like the minuscule cracks that sat on the ceiling of your room, concatenating as harsh, unforgiving winters pass by. You could walk through it blindfolded and still tell which tree was which. Which tree you and the apothecary’s son, Hyunjin, had carved both your initials on after a diffident kiss on one spring day, stashed under for shade from the beating rays.

It was nothing but a burst of curiosity, a quick touch of the lips and then a whole lot of laughter. You frequently drop by at his house now and help out with whatever concoction he is working on while you talked. You help scavenge some of the herbs they need for the medicine from the forest. In return, he listens to your whining about a particular reincarnation of the devil that won't stop pestering you until you rest 6 feet underground. It was a small price you had to pay for a great therapy session.

The forest was your safe ground. No one comes to it unless they needed something. Even so, they wouldn’t venture far into the woods like you do. It was the quietest part of the whole island. Some would think that living in the forest would make for a good hiding spot from measly dragons. That would be true if it weren't for the so-named Razorwing dragons. As its name convey, they have razor-sharp wings that could slice through any concrete object with ease and snack on you for breakfast, picking their teeth with your bones. Vikings are infamously known for their unwieldy stubbornness, and your people were no different, refusing to be chased off their island by some winged beasts, they'd die with their ego held high, soaring like a flag in the sky, or forever stay rolling in their graves.

You knew you were going to have to face training one way or another, but getting enrolled in it without your knowledge and being informed a day before the training begins wasn’t the way you would’ve liked it.

You were mad at yourself more than anyone else. Why couldn’t you just kill one? Why did you have to be so soft-hearted and feel bad whenever you see one laying on the ground, beheaded brutally, or crushed to bits by hammocks, and skinned raw. They were vicious animals, after all, stealing your livestock, burning the crops, killing people- be it children or adults. they didn't have mercy on you, so why should you?

A cold droplet of rain cut into your train of thought. You saw before you heard the rain start to pour down in-between the cracks of the thickly woven tree leaves.

It was dangerous being outside after sundown, dragons liked hunting in the darkness of the night. But it wasn’t the first time you sneaked out here without your fathers' knowledge. you’d often slip past him and his watchers to go venture out and saturate your curiosity.

You should head back, but you didn’t want to face your father, not after you stormed out on him. you will surely get a lecture and you were in no mood for that.

You took shelter under the last tree you shot, pulled the bolt out of its body and layed against it, rough tree bark rubbed against your palms, your eyes shut for a minute, listening to the heavy drops of rain slam down at an unhuman velocity, winds carrying them north towards the town.

As frightening as some people found storms to be, you felt the opposite. the rucks caused from the howling wind and thunder took your mind off of things. Dozing off on the sound, your shoulders dropped, chest lighter than earlier, feeling yourself get lifted as the rain washed over you. With one last deep breathe, you opened your eyes only for it lock with someone else’s.

Or should you say something else’s, for the viridescent hues of the snake slitted eyes peeking through the leaves on the tree facing you were no man's eyes. They were a dragons.

This jolted you awake faster than an ice bucket thrown in your face. Drowsiness nowhere to be seen, you tightly grip onto your only weapon but didn't lift a finger, you didn’t dare to breathe either, praying if you stay still enough it might forget you were there. The eyes didn’t move, didn’t blink, It was locked onto you. A strike of thunder lighted up the sky enough for you to see the leathery black skin of the beast in front of you.

You’ve spent hours upon hours reading every book about dragons your tiny excuse of a library had- every type, species, how they look, their tactics, pressure points- but this one looked nothing like the rest from the glimpse you caught. It didn’t fit any category. You weren’t sure what type of dragon it was, you’ve never seen this one, which struck you as odd. What was even weirder was how quiet it was. Dragons are impulsive and reckless. They don’t stop and stare.

Could it be… dare you say..a Night Fury?

The name itself sent another wave of panic throughout your body, unconsciously tightening your fingers around the crossbow. But if it was then why wasn’t it attacking you?

A sudden faint horn sound blared in the air, succeeding in catching the dragon's attention away from you, It turned its head towards it, interested as to what it was. But it was no surprise to you, you’ve heard this often. they were the warning sirens, meaning the village is under attack. This was your chance to run away, while it was distracted.

You didn’t waste a second, you shot a bolt in its direction before running as fast as your tired legs could run over the muddy ground. It was a miracle you didn’t trip with how uncoordinated you were, one hand pushing the branches out of your way while the other held onto you crossbow, head turning left and right trying to catch sight of the nightcrawler.

Oh why just why were you so unlucky, You were starting to regret not going home. Minho's voice rang in your ear “be careful what you wish for.” that damn lee, so what now he was a fortune-teller too?

You kept running and running but no human legs could ever beat the span of a dragon's wings, the dragon was on your tail. Your doubts of this being a night fury completely vanished when you heard the unmistakable sound of its screech as it got ready to shoot a fireball at you.

You luckily dodged it by hiding behind a tree and sent another bolt blindly behind you. You were nearing the middle of the forest, where trees were scarce, thinning out slowly as you reached near the town, which put you in clear sight for the beast stalking you.

You needed a plan, quick.

Yelling for help would surely go unnoticed as the village is already under attack right now, not to mention the roaring thunder and wind cackling every two seconds. You could try hiding, but there is no place here that the dragon won’t be able to reach. Damn Odin and thor your only option is to continue running and shooting your bolts in hopes that one might hurt it enough to leave you alone.

Thunder rumbled, snapping you back to reality. It was too quiet, what was the fury doing? Was it waiting for you to come out of hiding?

Your question was answered when you felt the tree you were leaning blast on fire, burning your hand and your backside with it. Your yelp of pain was drowned out by the screech it let out. This was no time to cry over burned skin, you griped you crossbow again, ignoring the searing pain you felt and peeked out enough for you to see the dragon dive-bombing towards you.

You took a running start before you shot your bolt high up in the sky were you barely saw a shadow moving in the dark midnight sky, you turned around before you could see if it hit it, but the pained roar it let out let you know.

Twirling back around in surprise, eyes wide, you saw it’s silhouette slowly descend, starlights guiding your eyes as the dragon failed to gain control of its wings. Trees hid its landing but the tremble of the ground made it known that it didn’t fall that far away.

You ran recklessly through the forest, not caring anymore if branches scratched your face,afraid that more of its kind will come. Your burns throbbed painfully but adrenaline and fear kept you going.

Emerging from the last line of trees, you saw what you already expected to see. Vikings in armors running around with swords and spiked clubs, chasing dragons, fires breaking out everywhere despite the heavy rain. But that could not beat the horror you just went through facing one of the deadliest dragons out there, and miraculously coming out of the encounter alive.

Blindly you push yourself between people in hopes of seeing a familiar face but the rough blow to your shoulders knocked you on your bum, sending a fresh wave of pain to your injuries.

You looked up to see an aggravated Minho peering at you from above.oh it couldn’t get any worse.

“Get out of my way dimwit,” he snarled but the look on your face snapped him out of his zone, he took notice of how charred your hand and clothes looked, fear swirling in your eyes. This wasn’t the first dragon attack that you have witnessed, so what had you so shaken?

“What's wrong?” You were too frightened to acknowledge that he was being nice to you for once. He seemed worried.

“N-n-night Fury– Chasing me— my crossbow — it fell ” you stuttered badly, trying to explain between breaths, but it was illegible. Your side burned more with each breath you took in. The grainy ground wasn't so kind on your palm, either.

“What? What are you saying?” his eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching in confusion. He couldn't hear over the sound of the downpour and the dragons roaring. He didn't seem irritated, he reached his hands to yours, trying to help you get back on your feet, but he touched your burns and you nearly blacked out from the pain.

Your wail surprised him, he kneeled down to you now, concern obviously showing on his face, he carefully grabbed your hand and turned it to see the scaly red skin. Raindrops mercilessly piercing it.

“Odin's beard Y/N, what did you do to your hand? Shove it down a dragon's throat?” He scolded, you slipped your hand back, not appreciating his condescending tone.

Determined to get up on your own, you tried to gather your balance back but failed to do so and stumbled forward, in return Minho’s hands reached for your Waist. Your eyes stung as much as your burns.

The pain was unbearable, you saw black dots dancing in your vision, how much more was life planing on humiliating you? First, you get yelled at in front of him and now your crying. You were contemplating on going back to the night fury and begging it to eat you up.

Lightheaded, you dropped your head on Minho's shoulder. shock was slowly leaving your system, exhaustion replacing it.

It was strange, you've never been this close to him. Hell, you could barely stand living next to him, but right now, right here, where you could hear his heartbeat thrum in your ear despite the mayhem around you, feel his breath stagger on your neck, smell the assortment of rain, sweat and his natural musk dripping off him, with his arms secured around you, you felt safe.

Minho would never tell a soul but he liked this, he liked how soft you were being with him, how reliant you were on him right now, how you fit in his arms. But he didn't like the scrunch that marred itself on your face. He would never confess it but he was out looking for you when he heard the sirens go off because he noticed you didn't go back home after your little outburst.

Without a word, he hauled you up, on hand under your knees the other warily yet rigidly dwelled somewhere near your bosom. You were too far out of it to scold him for touching you, and he was too strung out over you to let his mind wander far away.

Clouds roamed your vision, you fought to stay awake- you had to stay awake, you had to tell your father what happened, but the pull of unconsciousness was too strong.

III.

coarse cotton creasing under your skin woke you up. you don't recall your bed cloaked in such rough covers, but then again you don't recall going back home at all. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness of daylight, a quick scan of your surroundings deemed this was the apothecary's house. There was no roaring outside so that had to mean the attack was over with, the sun was just starting to rise, peaking beyond the horizon, golden rays slipping through the window. The rain dwindled to nothing and the town was in post-war mode.

You sat up confused. Your mind was hazy, the last thing you remember was bumping into Minho before passing out. Embarrassment hit you like a brick wall, knocking the breath out of you when you remembered how you acted in front of him earlier. The Minho you know would have used that opportunity to tease you, but from what your foggy mind recalled, he was anything but earnest and caring.

You would say it was your imagination but the pulsating sensation in your hand and ribs beg to differ.

They were much better, your hand almost completely healed while your side that took most of the hit was a bearable pain. Whatever concoction the apothecary- or was it hyunjin? - used on you worked like magic.

You slid on your boots and stood up. Many were laying around on the beds around, no doubt victims of the invaders. You couldn’t stand seeing people like this, so you rushed out the door and jogged back to your house, not to mention you were in no mood to have hyunjin nag your ear off. Your father was bound to set sail soon, and you need to talk to him before he goes.

If you had actually killed-or caught- the dragon then that changes everything. And if the said dragon was a night fury too, then you would surely gain the respect you never had in the first place. Perhaps he might even change his mind about attending the training, which would save you the hassle of facing Minho daily.

The town was a wreck, houses caved in, sorrow hanging like a dark cloud in the air, town gloomy despite the sunny day. The days after an attack are always the worst, repairing houses, regrowing the crops, burying the dead.

you would have arrived at your residence faster if you weren't stopped every two seconds with town folks bombarding you with questions. You brushed them away with “Yes I'm fine”’s and claiming you had to catch your father before he sailed. They couldn't argue with that.

You finally reached the top of the hill that held your house when you caught sight of Minho stepping out of his own, tools in hand, no doubt on his way to help in construction. Despite how much you hated the lees, they really did a lot around town, but their boastful way of talking was what made you want to stuff breadsticks in your ears. Nobody likes a snob.

You froze in your track, normally you would either overlook his presence and avoid confronting him like he was the night fury himself, or you would bicker like cats and dogs until someone intervenes. But perhaps you could play nice for now and thank him for what he had done yesterday. After all, he saved your life. If you had passed out on the ground out there alone, you would've been an easy target for the dragons. A bullseye marked in neon red for hunters a mile away to spot. It bared on you that he was decent to you earlier, you had never, be it rarely, seen him this caring about anything disregarding himself. You were seeing him in a completely different light, and you didn't like the way it made your heart flutter.

He noticed you too and halted in his place, expression unreadable. Silence ensued, which was new to both of you. You didn't want to be the one to start the conversation. You didn't know which Minho you'd meet today. You caught his gaze grazing your form, precisely where he knew you were hurt. His cheeks tinted redder than usual when he knew he was caught, he looked the other way instantly and continued on his journey downhill. That was peculiar. Normally you were the one to ignore him and his petty attempts at a verbal combat, not him.

Before he could completely pass you, you reached for his arm “Hey Minho..” his expressions, yet again, were hard to read but you could only decrypt his body's stiffness upon contact of your hand as discomfort- Or was he flustered? His ears looked like they were about to let steam out- so you let it go.

“I just...wanted to thank you for yesterday.”

He looked up into your eyes, no cocky smirk on his face, no strut in his walk, and no stick shoved up his ass, he seemed...tolerable. He opened his mouth to say something but someone beat him to it.

“Y/N?”

Mr.swoon himself came up from behind Minho, whose face turned sour. You never saw chan pick on Minho before, if anything, he always ended the teasing, so why does Minho look as if he bit into raw meat? Meanwhile, chan’s face displayed obvious distress, over you.

“Are you alright? I heard you were hurt badly.” Chan stepped forward, looking at you worriedly. It made your heart divert from its normal pitter-patter, you felt your body shiver up with exhilaration with the attention he was paying you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine now. It was nothing.” Relife brightened his face up, curling the corners of his lips in a smile that seldom sat on his face. He reached for your head, messing your hair up affectionately. you shrunk into yourself, your lips mirroring his. you liked the attention but the arrows Minho’s eyes were sending you were starting to get on your nerves.

“Yeah, brother, stop babying her. She can handle a little scratch, right?” he patronized. “oh wait, if I recall correctly, you passed out on me.”

And there he was ladies and gentlemen, the grade A asshole lee Minho you knew. Whatever happened a couple of hours ago must be a dream, because this Minho could never be that one, and to think you were beginning to believe that being around him won't be as suffocating anymore.

Why was he like this? his personality change gave you whiplash, he usually liked setting your nerves on fire or flirted like there was no tomorrow, sometimes even blurting borderline rude remarks, but this was straight-up jackass material.

Blood pooled in your head, you were lucky enough to escape from the grasps of the dragon with all limbs attached, yet he was mocking you for passing out from burns that fried you like a piece of meat. You scoffed, you didn't have time to deal with his identity crisis. So like the good ol’ times, you ignored Minho in favor off keeping your sanity intact.

“I need to catch my father before he goes, see you around?” you directed at chan. He noded and you were off, not a glance shared in the sullen boy's way.

The men sailed once the sun fully raised, and you were currently burning daylight. You prayed you could catch him before he goes, and it was heard. Your father stood in his gear talking to both commander Kim and Minho’s father outside your house. They seemed to be in a serious discussion, with how animated they all looked, but this couldn't wait.

“Father!” you called, successfully gaining his attention, “can I have a minute with you?”

“Y/N!” he held you close, eyes searching your body. Did everyone know about your little mishap yesterday? “What are you doing out? you should stay in with the healers” anger and concern were etched in his words.

“Father, I need to talk to you.” you urged.

“what about? I don't have much time” you noticed the curious stares from both Commander Kim and Lee. “In private,” you emphasized.

“Y/N, there's no time for that, whatever you need to say say it here.”

“No father, this is important.” you would never dare mention the night fury in front of the lees, you could already see the greed seeping out of their pores.

He saw how desperate you looked and dismissed both of the men before facing you. “Alright, one minute.”

You took a breath in. This is it. this would change everything.

”I caught a night fury.” You let out in one breath.

Surprise, confusion, bewilderment, that's what you wanted to see. Not the blank stare you got. His eyes held a note of disappointment, he thought you were bluffing and he wasn't having it.

“Y/N, your mother would be really disappointed in you right now.” an arrow to the heart would have been less painful, “ if this is your attempt at getting out of training-”

“What?! Father no, I mean it! when I ran out of the great hall I went to the forest and it started raining and at first, I wasn't sure if what I saw really was a night fury or not but it was! It burned me before I shot at it and it fell !”

He shook his head, disenchantment clear “You want me to believe that you, out of thousands of Vikings that died trying to slay it, caught one? Y/N you're worrying me. You might've hit your head yesterday too.”

“Father I swear, it was sitting there just staring at me! -”

“Dragons always go for the kill Y/N, they don't sit there staring at you.”

You should've expected this. Your proclaims sound far fetched, even to your own ears.

“Y/N, please just, for the sake of this island, promise me you will go to the training.”

“But father I really-”

“Promise me!” he cut you off, not listening to what you had to say. There was no use, he wasn’t going to belive you anyway, you had no proof on you right now and there was no time for you to drag him to the forest where the dragon may or may not still be. You dropped your head in defeat.

“I promise.” You let out begrudgingly.

The boats off far trumpeted out their horns, one last call before they sail into the unknown. Your Father dropped a kiss on your head. “I’ll be back,” he muttered his infamous last words.

You nodded your head but couldn't stare him in the face, defeated that your own blood didn't believe you. You should have expected this, why did you think differently in the first place? The timing was wrong. He thought you were making up excuses to bail on training, just a rowdy child defying their parents' order.

But his words lingered in your head.

Dragons always go for the kill, so why didn't it?

IV.

legends have it that in a cave by the edge of a lake, on a peninsula far far away, laid the gates that separate the mundane realm from the netherworld. But you believe you found one here, in front of you, in your islands forest.

It looked like a demon tried to climb its way out of hell. The usually packed dirt ground embedding rocks and other small plants was sunken, forming a sinkhole. Trees fallen around it, derogated from the soil, broken and carved into with claw marks. You were apprehensive, your father scoffing you off made you waver and doubt that anything that happened yesterday in the forest was anything but a figure of your imagination. But not anymore. Nothing but a dragon was strong enough to slice thousands of years old trees in half like they were twigs.

It must be somewhere near. You were going to prove your father and everyone that had underestimated you wrong. You were going to find that damn dragon, carve its heart out, and strut back to town with it held high up above your head When it felt nothing but downgrading to you, but if that’s what you had to do then so be it.

“ what’s she going to kill it with? Her crossbow?” you mimicked Jisung’s words in a high pitched voice as you followed the markings down the path, pushing a long branch out of your way, only for it to bounce back and slap you in the face, makeing you lose your balance.

your foot caught onto a rock and you plunged headfirst down the slope. A slope you hadn't known existed, barricaded by long abundant streaky vines and luscious shrubs. You held on to lose vines on your slid down, lessening your fall impact but it still hurt when your back met the grass-covered ground roughly.

You let out a wail as you body throbbed, but the second cry that reached your ears didn't come from you. You froze in your place, looking like a starfish out of sea-with your back to the ground, arms and legs spread out. That voice was too deep to be from your mankind.

Mutley, you turned your head around. And there it was, The nightcrawler, curled up on itself, midnight black leather skin shining under the gleaming rays of the sun. You couldn’t tell its head from its tail from the way it was huddled up under the shade of a tree a good distance away from you, and you weren't sure you wanted too. Maybe it wasn't such a bright idea to come search for it alone after all.

You’ve studied all types of dragons, but you've never seen one like this, hell no one has seen one like this. It intrigued you. you found your curiosity overpowering your greed of self-righteousness. Which wasn't much, to begin with.

Was it dead? But you definitely heard a groan, was there another one here?

Your inquiries were answered when you saw its tail flick out from under his wings.

Holy mother of Odin's overgrown beard it was still alive.

Okay, okay, everything's okay, it didn’t seem to notice you, deep in its slumber. if you quietly sneak to that boulder behind you without catching its attention, you might-

Crack.

So it seems you might have irrationally run to the arms of death, twice in less than 24 hours. Damn that twig, might as well just go and poke the damn dragon awake and yell in its ear “Hey I'm here!! Come eat me !!”.

The dragon slit one eye open at the sound. Its head finally peeking out from behind its wings. you must've woken it up from its deep daze when you slam-dunked the ground then gave out your whereabouts with the twig.

It didn't move and neither did you. This sent shivers down your back, you felt like you were standing under the same tree from yesterday, taking cover from the storm, The same eyes fixated on yours. The golden hues swirling in the green pool of its eyes charmed you, but they seemed off, muted, not as vibrant as you had first caught sight of them in between raindrops.

Once again, You didn't dare to breathe, afraid it might activate it into attacking. you tried to appease the shivers from shaking your body but to no effect. A grumble rumbled from its body. It obviously remembered you, and it didn't like you by the looks of it. It stood up on its legs And slowly neared you, with each step forward it took, you took one back until your back hit the designated rock you wanted to hide behind, a little too late now.

You should’ve brought someone with, maybe chan as he seemed to be the only trustworthy and capable person in this town that wouldn't dismiss your claims as an effort of escaping the training.

It took calculative steps forward, one of its wings spread to its full frighting span while the other laid close to his body, a mix of a pained howl and a growl slithered out of him. A piece of wood, one you knew too well as you crafted it yourself, caught your eyes as it jutted out of the wing hauled up to his body.

Bingo. So you did hit it, but you only managed to cut one of its wings, immobilizing it.

Balance was everything for flight. One tiny crack in the system and everything crashes. You wouldn't have guessed that such a feared dragon had such a weak spot. That was probably why it hunted at night. While other dragons had spikes, bumps or rough scales covering their bodies, it had nothing but sleek obsidian black leather skin which helped camouflage it in the darkness of the night.

Anyone in your place right now would feel elated at hitting a night fury, but the only thing that simmered in your chest was guilt. You did this to it, You took away it’s liberty.

Discreetly you tried to reach for the knife you had stashed in your belt but it was sharp, it caught your movement and growled warningly at your hands. You pulled them back up in surrender but the growling didn’t cease, its eyes didn't move from your belt. It felt threatened by it.

You again reached for the knife but this time held onto it and threw it away, far from the both of you. It was a daunting move but its growling stopped and it turned its slitted green eyes back to you. It studied you again for a long moment, then took a couple of more steps forward. You were beginning to regret throwing away your only defense mechanism.

But the dragon stopped a foot away, it just stood in silence, once again, for what felt like an eon before it laid down on the floor with a heavy thump, spreading its hurt wing, whining as it did.

You mentally cocked your head in confusion.

Was it..... was it asking for your help?

You were befuddled to say the least. You’ve been taught since your fetus days that dragons were ruthless animals, with an unquenchable thirst for blood. So why was there a dragon lying defenseless on the ground in front of you, whining like a kicked puppy?

It still had its eyes open, assessing your every breath. With a newfound surge of chivalry, you stepped forward and slowly reached until your fingertips grazed its injured wing, smooth scaly leather brushed past your tips verifying what you dreaded. It didn't retract. It really was asking for your help.

You were conflicted. You could easily attack it right now and win. You could prove everyone wrong. This was everything you needed, handed to you in a silver plate with a bow on top. But its eyes peered into yours, emotions whirling in them, mirroring yours. hurt, fear, desperation.

You made up your mind.

Before you could regret your decision and curse yourself to rot in hell, you reached for that part of the stick that stuck out of his wing and cautiously broke it off, so it was easier and less painful to pull the other side out. it surprisingly sat still, except for the little whines and heavy breaths it let out.

As soon as you freed it from the pain, it stood up on its feet again and pounced on you, Shoving you down to the ground, locking you in place, helpless and on your back. Oh, you were so dead. Oh dear god, you have been a good child so far, what did you do to deserve this? Was it your constant fights with Minho? But it was always him that initiated it, you were simply defending yourself!!

You closed your eyes, ready to feel your skin blast of your bones, but all you got was a deafening angry roar in your ears that left you deaf for the rest of the afternoon, then it was off you, trudging towards the pond near the other side of the slope.

It didn't kill you.

It didn’t kill you, and you didn't kill it. You had the opportunity to do it, but you didn't. It knew so yet still took the chance with you and once he saw you were willing to help, he let you go too.

Mayhaps It was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe dragons were fighting only as self-defense. Maybe it was us they were afraid of and not the other way around.

Shaken to the bone, you got up and sat against the rock behind you, eyes glued to the leathered fiend. Your mind felt like mush, thoughts overlapping but one thing was clear. Dragons weren't as dangerous as you have been made to think.

It didn't seem to mind you staying here, in fact, it ignored your presence as it tried catching the fish from the pond, only for it to give up after several fruitless attempts and whine while laying down on the ground, licking its open wound clean.

It would probably never be able to fly again. Your bolt ripped a big nasty gash through its wing.

Guilt sat heavily in the bottom of your stomach. You've never felt this shameful before. It felt horrible and you couldn't stand it, it was almost up to par with how you felt whenever someone reprehended you for your fights with Minho.

Picking up your neglected knife, you skipped to the other side of the pond as to not startle the dragon, and sat quietly by the brinks, studying the unsuspecting fish serenely swimming to and fro down below the clear water. You felt the dragons gaze curiously turn on to you. you kept yours on the aquatic organisms, waiting to strike them in the right moment.

Moments later drenched in droplets of pond water, dried dragon blood and a bucketful worth of fish piled next to you, you were pulled out of your zone when you saw- and felt a shadow looming over you.

It was your scaly companion, sitting politely a couple of steps away from your hunt, tongue peeking out and nostrils sniffing the scent.

“You can eat it.” you weren't sure it would understand you but by the way its pupils dilated before it lunged at the fish, tail wiggling upon your words, you knew it did.

Guilt still stubbornly hung on your lungs, even after your act of repent. you might have sated its hunger but it will never be able to soar the skies again.

There was one way you might be able to help, but you weren't so sure it would work. You have stitched dragon skin together before but not when it was on a living breathing one. But perhaps it was worth the shot.

You’d do so tomorrow. If it was here tomorrow. But for now, you had something else to worry about. Your first dragon training lesson.

“We’ll start off today with something easy.” They said.

You thought Commander Kim might teach you how to properly pick and hold a shield and a sword, or how to find shelter, not throw all ten of you in an arena with an enraged dragon chasing you around.

you just barely escaped the grasps of a dragon only to be thrown under another one. you stuck by the corner of the arena, letting the others get chased by it instead, tranquil and at peace until your shoulder was bumped into.

“What's wrong Princess, you scared?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” you rolled your eyes because of course Minho would take any chance he has to tease you and pretend like he didn't bully you hours ago, even if it was in the middle of the fucking training session. “And if you're so brave Mr.Slayer then why are you hiding too ?”

“I’m not hiding, I’m simply waiting for the right moment to strike.” He puffed his armored chest out. you were afraid your eyes might get stuck to the back of your head with how far you roll them around him.

“Keep telling yourself that buddy, you'll eventually start believing it.” you kept your eyes on the creature in front. But Minho turned quiet, which struck you as odd. If you learned anything from the years-long disputes with him was that he always had the last word, hell he would outlive the gods fighting to have the last word. You turned your face only for it to be a mere inch away from his. It took you back to the day before, the same emotions ran through you only this time you weren't in agony, well not physically at least, But your soul would never rest as long as you were around a Lee. A familiar tug pulled at your heart at the way he was leaning into you, nose closing in on your neck.

“What are you doing? marketing yourself as bait?” he looked up into your eyes.

“What-?” you asked, confused.

“You smell like fish.”

you had rushed here straight from the forest without stopping at your house to change out of your bloodied sullied clothes. This was bad, if a human could smell the fishy odor off of you then a dragon’s heightened sense of smell would surely pick it up and mistake you for food.

“T-That's none of your business.” you pushed him away, putting enough distance between you to placate your thumping heart.

“since when did you like fish?”That took you aback, you hadn't known he noticed you picking on the fish meat they regularly served at the great hall. You hadn't known he focused on anything else other than his own ass.

“Since when did you care?” it might have come out as a bit too defensive but you felt threatened, he seemed to know a bit too much about you for your liking. Perhaps while you were too busy looking at anything other than him, Minho was busy looking closely at nothing other than you, engraving everything his eyes percept in his mind under a folder with your name on it, closely studying you, memorizing details for him to recite later.

“Y/N, Minho stop trying to gauge each other throats out and focus on the lesson.” commander Kim yelled at you from his place outside the arena, where he was safe and sound, watching you from above.

“shouldn't you be teaching us how to deafened ourselves first?” annoyance colored your voice.

“You learn on the job.” Commander Kim yelled back, “now stop huddling up like a bunch of lovebirds and get out there.”

you rolled your eyes once more, yeah you might lose a limb or two but it was no big deal, at least you would have a tale to tell your father when he comes back.

The others in the middle of the arena were trying everything they could, from chasing it around with their shields and weapons to it chasing them with fire bursting from its mouth.

This was ludicrous if you had wanted to get chased around by a dragon you would've stayed back at the forest with the night fury, and you were going to stat just that to your instructor. you marched towards where he stood. “Commander Kim with all due respect, don't you think its a bit too hazardous for us to be running around free with a dragon?” you were looking for a way out, you didn't want to fight the dragon.

“The only thing you should be worried about right now is that scaly thing heading towards you.” he pointed with his head behind you.

you ducked just in time when you saw a wall of fire headed at you. “EXACTLY MY POINT !!” you shouted at the instructor as you ran for your life, shield over your head. you recognized the dragon classified in the nonlethal class, not the worst but still could do serious damage if it wanted to. And right now, it seemed like it wanted to. It was chasing you much more vigorously than it had with the others. No doubt it had finally catching a whiff of you.

Everyone noticed how crazed it suddenly turned, now it was their turn to cower in the corner while you fought it off.

“come on knock it out” you heard commander Kim yell over the flapping of wings, “ bang his head with your shield.”

Easier said than done if you lift the armor away from your face for a second the dragon wouldn't hesitate in attacking. Was there a way you could subdue it as you have done to the night fury? there must be, your heart wouldn't be able to take it if you injured another one of them.

“lookout !!” you heard someone shout before a weight slammed on top of you, squshing you to the floor with its body. you looked up in surprise only to see Minho’s the culprit. Right, where your body was a second ago was now a molten hole, magma dripping down from it like pudding.

He got off you and slammed the shield in his hand roughly to the dragon now laying dazed on the ground. He let out his breaths in deep heaves, and you’ve got to admit, he looked attractive like this, dressed in his armor, out of breath with beads of sweat clinging to him. you mentally shook those thoughts away. This was no time to appreciate his physical appearance when his sole purpose of helping was probably to take the glory away from you.

A palm was offered to you. You would've taken it if it wasn't attached to the person that pushed you to the floor in the first place. You pushed his hand away and got up yourself. What's up with him? he helped you out when you passed out earlier only for him to make fun of you for doing so, then comes around acting like nothing happened only to push you out of harm's way and saved you from getting burned again.

“I could've handled that myself, I don't need your help.” you brushed the dirt off of you as if that would do anything to your already soiled clothes. Minho's face fell, his hand flattered in the air before he pulled them back to his side in a fist.

“Whatever suit yourself,” he scorned, “next time why don't you run to chan when you need help.”

What was he going on about? You had tried to be nice to him and thank him earlier when he had helped. He was the one that acted like a jerk and made fun of you. And what did chan have to do with any of this? he couldn't possibly be jealous of chan?

While you were facing your little dilemma named Lee Minho’s bipolar tendencies, commander Kim jumped down to the field and put the knocked out dragon away.

“Good job Minho,” he clapped him on the back but Minho didn't look so thrilled, avoiding your eye contact.”First rule of the battlefield: Never hesitate. Give it one second and it will not hesitate in burning you to crisps. class dismissed”

Minho was the first one out, sulky throwing off his headgear and shield to the floor as he exited the arena. why was he playing the victim here? it was your turn to scoff now and sulky leave the arena, though you had the decency of putting your gear back in its intended place.

VI.

“Say,” you began, gathering Hyunjin’s attention from his working hands, busy mixing another concoction. “Theoretically, If I were to have to numb a dragon, would one of our numbing Potions work on them?”

That got Hyunjin’s hands to freeze in their place, question marks clear in his eyes. “Where’s this coming from?” There was a hint of suspicion waltzing behind his question.

“Just a thought.” you shrugged nonchalantly.

He sighed but answered nonetheless, “we don’t know much about dragon anatomy but, theoretically it would probably take a shit ton of dosage to numb them than it would for us.”

you nodded your head. “thought so.”

He dropped whatever was in his hands and faced you completely, hands leaning on the table separating you from him.“okay spill it. What did you do ?”

You weren’t surprised he asked. He knew you too well, with how often your curiosity got you in trouble and all. You contemplated telling him everything, if there was anyone you would trust to talk about what had happened to you in the past 48 hours, it would be Hyunjin. It felt wrong to keep something away from him, he was the person you shared everything with.

Thumbs twiddling in your lap, your eyes wandered around the knicks and knacks spread out in the workplace. The tapping of Hyunjin’s fingers on the wooden surface forced your eyes to the jagged line that ran through the back of his left hand, reminding you of the time hyunjin got glass shards carved into it. It was very foolish of you to go around sniffing and picking at the ingredients around his workplace. Turns out The pretty pink liquid set up in the farthest shelf was put up there for a reason, it was poisonous and had hyunjin not slapped the bottle out of your hands reach you would’ve been poisoned to death. And had his parents not been around to put the antidote on hyunjin would’ve been one arm less or worse, dead.

You couldn’t possibly put him in harm's way again, he was too sweet and innocent for that, you would never forgive yourself if anything happened to hyunjin, you still didn’t completely forgive yourself for the scar you marred on Hyunjin’s delicate form, despite how many times he told you it was fine.

Perhaps later, once you've got your thoughts organized you would tell him, but for now, it seems like it's going to be your little dirty secret.

“Nothing.” You shrugged again. he didn't have to say it, it was written all over his face, he didn't believe you.

“Really there's nothing. Just one of the many unanswered inquiries running through my mind.”

By the purse of his lips, you knew it bothered him that you were shrugging him off, but he dropped the issue nevertheless.

“If you say so,” he side-eyes you while he goes back to working again,” so what's new with Minho?” He slipped out so easily.

“What? Why would you bring up that spawn of the devil for?”

“Well, you always end up talking about him anyway so I'm just cutting to the chase.” Smugness sure was a good look on him. His eyebrows quirk and that little tug that pulled one corner of his lip up would have anyone fall to their knees.

“Wha-“ you would deny it if it wasn’t true. Somehow, someway Minho slithered his way into your subconscious, permanently sitting with a crown over his head in the gold-encrusted chair he placed in your mind, playing with your thoughts, making you think about him even when he wasn't around. To be frank, you always complained about the lees in general to hyunjin, namely a certain one was mentioned more than the others, but that was only because you wanted to push him off the edge of the island..right?

“What are you getting at?”

“oh I don't know,” he hummed, his hands didn't stutter once while he spoke,” that your too stubborn to confront your feelings about him.”

“What feelings ?” you stubbornly denied.

“See?” he deadpanned.

“Whatever.” You didn't like the heat pooling in your cheeks or the jitters convulsing your stomach.

“Just admit it, Your so used to hating him that it has become easier for you to just go along with his weird charade of displaying his affection for you than it is to actually do something about your feelings for him.”

“What? He doesn’t like me like that. He likes making me conjure up scenarios of his slow brutal death every day though.”

Despite your little way of deteriorating the conversation, Hyunjin’s face turned serious, “ Y/N you’re blinder than a ground mole if you think Minho doesn’t like you like that.”

“No, he doesn’t!! He was such an ass to me yesterday!”

“Look.. that was different Y/N. I don't really agree with his way of approach but…” he looked lost in his thoughts, searching for the right words to describe such an enigma.

“he hasn't had it easy since day one. It's not really an excuse for him to treat you the way he does but, deep down he's just a diamond in the rough, a child that's been teased since birth for being too caring. He’s too afraid of showing anything close to emotions for anyone but for some reason his act always seems to slip around you.” That had your heart stop.

“ You didn't see the way he hurtled into here the other night with you in his arms, he himself was bleeding but he wouldn't let me touch his cuts until someone treated you first. Y/N I think your the only one that could help him.”

Now that was surprising, you were pushed once again under the same shed of light you saw Minho in after your accident.

“Help him?”

“Have you ever considered talking to him? Like a normal conversation where none of you would set the room on fire?”

You have tried, you tried to talk to him on the morning of the sailing, and now that you think about it he did act differently until you were both interrupted by chan.

The door behind hyunjin creaked open and Hyunjin’s mother popped her head out, “ Hyunjin can you— oh good morning Y/N, how are your burns healing?”

“As perfect as the rest of me.” You replied sarcastically, thankful for the interruption.

“Cheeky as always I see,” she chuckled, “I need to steal hyunjin for a bit, we need an extra hand in the back.”

“Yeah, I was leaving anyway. Dragon training starts soon.” Saved by mother Hwang, you couldn't thank her enough for it.

“Be careful out there. I heard the training can get pretty wild.”

Images of Minho pressed up against you on the floor flashes before your eyes. That was not what she meant, THAT WAS NOT WHAT SHE MEANT.

You shook your head, “ yeah..”

A shrill sound pierced the air, making all three of you jump. “Oh boy, hyunjin, come quickly, help me pick up the cauldron from the fire before it starts spilling everywhere.”

“Think about what I said.” He noted quickly at you before he followed his mother back into the room where they worked most of their magic.

He was right. Hyunjin was always right. But you had other pressing matters than pouting around and pondering over unsaid feelings.

VII.

Second day of training did not go the way you imagined it too.

Sure today you were, once again, locked in the arena with everyone else, a new dragon unleashed, freely soaring around you. But what was different was a certain brunette that stayed quiet for the first time since he was born.

It was a breath of fresh air. Nothing nagging you, floating around you, buzzing in your ear like a fly. But it was disorienting. Was he upset over the first class?

Whatever, you didn't do anything wrong, you didn't ask of him to save you. you didn't ask for anything but here you are.

Today’s session didn't last long. whilst others were greedily fighting for who gets the victorious title of defeating the dragon today, You did try to act as if you were actually trying to fight the dragon, but then went to the same spot you were just a mere 24 hours ago. Commander Kim yelled at you the same way he did yesterday and you had turned a blind eye to him.

You were stuck in limbo. For one, if you don’t show an effort in learning, it will reach your father’s ears once he comes back and you don't think you’ll be able to handle him looking at you with disappointment dripping off of his entire being. But two, you weren't sure that fighting dragons was the right thing to do anymore, the night fury has planted new speculations in your mind, maybe the gods created both dragons and humans to live cohesively in harmony. Maybe you've all just had it wrong. Maybe you could do something to change how everyone's mind.

And three, Minho's silence was deafening. Why just why did you have to live next to each other? Every day, after each lesson, the both of you would have to take the same path to go back to your own respectful homes, albeit you don't stand next to each other, one of you would be ahead of the other, mostly you- unknown to you that the boy let you lead because he wanted to keep a protective eye on you.- god forbid you get seen walking with him, that would be the end of the world.

“Have you ever considered talking to him? Like a normal conversation where none of you would set the room on fire?”

This time, you were the one left staring at his backside while he treaded up the road. Not a single cheeky remark said. Thoughts of starting up a conversation with him skipped your mind, but what would you say? Thank you once again for saving me yesterday? Why did you insist on having me treated first? Why’re you such an ass?

A white ball of fur jumped at the feet of the boy in front of you. Unlike your startled self, Minho's face sported a soft smile, one you had never seen, one you didn’t know he could sport.

He crouched down to be on the same level of the pretty snow white feline basically throwing itself on him. Nimble fingers rubbed the back of the cat's ears, pulling a loud purr out of it.

He looked so small crouching down next to it, smile still painted on his face. Did he know you were behind him? Probably not because you've never seen him like this, and by the way the feline trusted him he must’ve been doing this for a while.

“What have you been feeding it, young man? She won't eat any of the food I give her anymore.” An old lady, you recognized her as the local chef’s wife, scolded Minho, a playful lilt in her voice.

He giggled.

“Mrs.whiskers likes your husband’s smoked tuna did you know that?”

Oh no, no no. Who allowed your heart to skip a beat it the sound of his chuckle. No, it was probably a heat stroke or something, you're already exhausted from standing still and doing nothing in the arena, it was probably the heat getting to you.

You hurried off past Minho, not listing to the rest of the conversation, and turned left, at where the path leads you to the hidden dragon buried deep in the forest, passing both of your houses on the way, earning a Quizzical stare from Minho on your retreating form.

You had snuck a couple of numbing potions after Hyunjin disappeared behind the closed door, your homemade sewing kit stashed next to it in your brown leather bag, a couple of fishes thrown in there too, to persuade the dragon on letting you stitch him incase he let you.

You were determined to fix things, or else you would quite possibly disintegrate from the heavy feeling in your chest.

This time, you gracefully slid down the slope instead of tumbling down it. You had peaked through the veins to catch a glimpse, and what you saw shriveled your heartstrings.

The dragon let out an annoyed groan as he once again fell to the ground after failing to catch his balance once in the air. It kept repeating, landing, getting up, spreading its wing, shaking its tail once before leaping into the air only for it to not catch drag and slam back down into the ground once more.

Its head suddenly whipped towards you, the same annoyed growl was heard and you wondered again if you should've brought someone with you. Or...maybe even Minho as he seemed keen on breaking the mold you had set for him.

Nope. Not going to think about him.

Running viciously at you with its teeth bared and a heart stoping screech, unleashing its wrath on you, was what you expected the dragon to do, instead it let out a burst of flames to the ground in front of him successfully charring the grass, with its wing it put out the fire than laid upon it. Its back facing you.

So it held a grudge against you. That's...not what you expected. Not that it shouldn't hate you but that a so-called ruthless beast could show such human-like emotions.

You slowly neared it, calling to it as you did.

“Hey..uhh harmless creature,” it didn’t respond.

“Umm, it's me. uh Again.” It let out a huff at that, chest moving up and down violently.

“... I know you probably hate me, a-and I don't blame you for that,” you stuttered,” but I might be able to help you.”

Its ears flipped backward, it was listening. You had its attention.

“I have a proposition for you.” You laid down your satchel and took out the fish. A sliver of a movement of its tail told you it had caught a whiff. You whipped the fish around to let the wind carry the scent to him.

“If you lay still and snack on what I brought you without jumping me this time, I will fix your wing.” wide beady eyes stared at you, it tilted its head to one side, just like how a dog would do to look at you better. if you had seen it do this a couple of days ago you would of pissed your pants, but strangely enough, you found it enchanting now.

it fully turned to you now, nose sniffing the fish still dangling in your hand, but it didn't move any closer.

you throw the fish in your hand in front of him alongside the others you had in your satchel. still as a rock, it didn't move, eyes fixated on you.

“go ahead, I didn't poison them.” but you did dose them heavily in some of the numbing potions you got. They were scent and tasteless so hopefully, the dragon wouldn't sniff or taste anything weird.

At that it lunged at the food, letting you peacefully walk to his side.

Its injured wing was as it was yesterday, pulled close to its body.

“Buddy, you're going to have to spread your wing.” you tapped his wing softly.

it stopped munching for a second but complied in the next. so it was starting to trust you.

you took what was left of the potions you had in your bag and poured it gently onto the angry open wound, It was just a precaution, for you and for the dragon. you wouldn't want it to slap you with its boney wings and possibly break one of yours. with one bat you would be thrown like a rag doll across the meadow field.

It didn't seem to react to the liquid touching him, except for a tiny twitch of his underlying muscles, so you did your first puncher with the needle. It was way harder to puncher through the thick layers of muscles and scaly skin than it was with normal leather.

And as you had expected, upon the incision, its tail twitched from its previous serenity and struck you in the face with such force that had you thrown to the ground behind.

“ouch, that was surely going to leave a bruise.’” It looked at you accusingly, hurt shining in his eyes.

“look, it pains me just as much as you, but if you want to fly again, this might be the only solution!”

it was a hassle but after another round of one-sided verbal negotiation, a row of neat stitches decorated his left wing. “now I would tell you not to move around much but-” you couldn't finish your sentence as it had stubbornly tried to take flight, it did for a hot minute until a couple of the stitchings tore.

It looked at you with pleading eyes once it was back on the ground.

“come here, you big oaf.”

After you had repaired the stitches, the dragon had yet to move from your side. You dared to pet its head and it let you, closing its eyes and leaning towards your touch, smooth leather skidding under your touch, soft purs rippling out of him.

you closed your own eyes, resting beneath the tree, shading in it, letting your thoughts wander and finally puzzle the pieces together.

it was as you suspected, dragons weren't that bad.But the question now was, what are you going to do with this new piece of information? This town had fought years after years and gave birth to generations of dragon warriors. It was your island legacy, their creed, to kill dragons. How were you, an overlooked human, supposed to convince them of what their thick skulls would never want to accept?

You looked at the dragon resting peacefully next to you.

“How can I save you?”

VIII.

“whats wrong with your face?” is the first thing you hear come out of Minho's mouth after his whole devotion to being silent as a monk around you.

The blue and purple hues staining your cheek was not something you could hide with your hair, it was on display for everyone, but that dipshit didn't have to announce it to everyone in 10 meters ratio.

You glared at him, couldn't he have phrased it nicer? who were you kidding, this is Lee Minho you were talking about, he's either as smooth as the butter you spread on your rockhard biscuits or as rude and grumpy as the old fisherman's wife living down by the bay.

“I punched myself so I wouldn't have to see your face. But oh here you are.”

He tsked, he was genuinely worried about you, if it wasn't for that he wouldn't have broken his silent treatment with you.

With that, he turned the other way to hid the pout pulling his lips down in obvious disdain, albeit you caught sight of it, and god damn your heart for leaping at such sight.

Were you too mean?

you were starting to get a headache from all the thinking so you decided to stop and focus on your lesson, and by focus, you meant to think of ways to avoid engaging in the ruthless practice.

to say the next couple of days were eventful would be a lie, Minho kept ignoring you and you kept going to the forest after each lesson to play with the dragon, who you playfully decided to name starlight- it was the first time you caught sight of him on a starry night. plus it wouldn't agree to be called anything else, you kept calling it by different names but it only responded to starlight.

Everything was going swell, except for the fact that you had the most wanted dragon as a pet and that you missed Minho. You missed hearing his annoying voice, you don't miss his rude remarks but you miss playfully bantering with him. He doesn't look like he's doing well with dark bags stitched to his under eyes and stress lines forming way too early for his age. Dare you say you were worried for him. But you decided not to interfere, for now.

You could notice the stares of the people around you, eyeing your ever-accumulating marks and bruises decorating your body. You couldn't do anything about the ones that your clothes cant hide. Starlight likes to play rough and the other scratches are from your clumsy self. Questions were bound to be asked and you weren't sure what the answers should be.

By now it was nearing the deadline of your father's voyage and your training, Minho was looking worse by the second, he looked as if he was forced to sleep with a dragon in the same cave.

“Alright soon to be Vikings gather up.” commander Kim announced, gathering everyone's divided attention from staring at the large, tall wooden walls placed in the usually empty arena, forming a maze of sorts. “Today we’re doing something different, you are to pair up in twos and go into the maze. In there somewhere are eggs stashed away, guarded by some obstacles. First team to get out with three eggs wins. easy right?”

You noticed some of the girls standing next to you ogle at Minho, no doubt thinking of throwing themselves on him in a chance of becoming his partner. You would think the girls would know better than to pair up with him as he would be as useless as his twin brothers brains, but you guess those girls just might share the same brain.

“Minho, Y/N you're together. The rest are free to choose,” he announced oh so casually as if he and the others haven't noticed yours and Minho’s lethal relationship.

“What?!” you both exclaimed, sharing a look. “That's unfair!! -”

Commander Kim raised his palm up, shutting you up “You're both too busy bickering at each other to fight the actual enemy here.” you begged to differ, dragons weren't the enemy” you have got to trust each other. It's the golden rule.”

“I’d rather go in by myself.”

“I second that,” but Minho didn't sound as opposed.

“No, what I say goes.” he refused again “now get on with it before I tie the both of you together.”

you sighed, there was nothing you can do about it, the sooner you get it done with, the faster you can go and hang around your new pet.

Minho was as quiet as ever so you took the lead for once and talked. “let's get this over with quickly, I’ll get the egg and you keep an eye out for me, no tricks no games.”

he nodded lethargically, eyes darker than his usual bright brown ones.

once the horns announced the start of the game, both of you sprinted inside. Large walls caged you in a foggy mist, you could barely see your hand. This wasn't good, you might separate from Minho and get lost. Blindly you reached for where you last saw Minho, your fingers touched the familiar cool metal plates that cover his chest, you slid it down until you found his hand.

“what are you doing?” he whispered.

“so we don't get lost” Thank Thor that it was misty and the scarlet tinge coloring your cheeks couldn't be seen.

“lead the way.” you gestured with you interwind hands. he took the liberty of interlacing your fingers, firmly squeezing your hand in his. Had you not known it was your hand in his you might have thought it was your heart with the way It was pumping so weirdly.

Sightless, you both relied on your sense of touch and hearing for this task. Your hands guiding you away from any dead ends, ears listening for any unwanted visitors.

you stubbed your foot against a rough object which caused it to roll away. An egg !!

“There's one here! “you squeezed Minho’s hand, gesturing to where you heard it roll. Slowly you unlace your hand from his, to grab the golden egg and shove it in the pouch you were given.

“okay that was too easy-” you should've kept your mouth shut for the sudden gust of wind hovering over the back of your necks made both of your bodies turn rigged, your hand sneaking back into Minho’s wordlessly.

Simultaneously, another team bumps into your backs, bringing with them another dragon. Upon collision, the other team's egg fell from their hand and rolled next to your feet. You took it, quickly stashing it in your pouch. Leaving the only problem now is to escape this trap, find one more egg than get the hell out of here.

“don't move,” Minho whispered. Dragons have blind spots, hiding in them could eventually lead to losing the dragon's track.

The boy on the other team scoffed, recognizing Minho's voice “as if id take advice from you.” and made the first move. Colossal mistake, now he had both of the dragon's attention pointed at him. A disadvantage for him but an advantage for you.

You and Minho took off running away from the pair, letting them deal with their foolish act.

Eventually, you reach a part where the fog doesn't hang so thick in the air and it is safe to let go of your hands. but neither of you do.

“How many do we have?” he askes.

you hold up two fingers with a shit-eating grin. he copies yours and smiles back.

“I'm guessing we're in the eye of the maze now.” you reached a circular place, with nothing but five pathways, one of them must be the exit while the others must be where the other teams entered from.

“I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that's not it.”Minho points at one pathway that you could clearly see lightning strikes reflecting from the walls along with shrilling screams.

“Yeah, lets hurry before they come out and bring it with them.” you agreed.

All four other pathways seemed as equally suitable for the exit as each other, so you randomly chose one. The path seemed normal in the beginning but the more turns you took the darker it got. Light spilled from random crevices up above, enough for you to see Minho next to you, but not enough to illuminate what was beyond him.

you froze in your place when you felt a tug on your pouch, pulling it roughly away from you. “Did you just take the pouch?”

“What? No, why would I?”

“Well, something did.”

The sound of rummaging came from behind, causing both of you to turn around. From what your eyes could catch, the relatively small-sized blue dragon with its head in your bag was what caused the sound. It sniffed into your pouch before it pulled the pouch with its mouth to a corner where you noticed a third egg sat. You recognized the dragon immediately, body going in full flight mode.

“That tiny thing is what took it?” Minho mocked, already making his way to the dragon.

“Minho NO, it's more dangerous then it looks,” you pulled back on his hand. This type of dragons were known for their razor-sharp poison-filled spikes and speed.

“It's fine. It's small. We’ll just grab the pouch and pounce.” He advanced as he talked, making it dangerously close to the dragon.

“No Minho one sting from it and you'll be-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence as you push Minho with all your strength out of the way of the flying spike. The spike hit the wall behind you, inches from where he stood “ -Paralyzed.” You finish, out of breath.

The small dragon, now aggravated, was ready to strike at the both of you again but it sensed oncoming visitors. You looked at where its beady red eyes were staring and vaguely saw shadows that resembled a human’s.

Distracted, Minho made the brave choice to run to your pouch, stuff the third egg in, and as he so kindly phrased it pounced away. Dragging you by the hand with him.

“RUN!”

You had hoped the dragon would go after the new guests that arrived, but it didn’t seem to appreciate you taking its eggs. You felt a weight cling onto your back and force you down to the floor, unwillingly removing your hand from Minho's grip.

Before you could even react Minho had flung the pouch at the dragon with such vigor that you were sure the thud it made rang through the whole arena. He helped haul you up quite easily that you for a second forgot how much you weight, were you that light or was Minho always been this strong?

The dragon swayed from side to side, shaking its head a couple of times as it did. Before it could gain its senses again, both you and Minho were out of sight.

After multiple run-ins to walls- and to each other- endless twists and turns, you finally see the light. Just a couple of steps more and you will be out of this maze.

You make it one foot out but something pulls Minho back inside, linked hands dragging you back with him.

“Minho!”

The same spiked dragon was on his back. Quite literally. It had its claws dug into his armor, pulling Minho backward into the maze, it's tail ready to sting Minho's neck.

It was time to choose, you either spare the dragon and let Minho get hurt. Or hurt the dragon in order to save Minho. Both options sucked, but maybe…

It’s a lucky guess. You had accidentally discovered this one time when you were fooling around with starlight, there was no assurance it would work on other types of dragons, but if it did it would save both of them from getting harmed.

It was now or never. Before you could back out, you reached your hand under the dragon's sharp teethed mouth and scratched the thick calloused skin on its chin. It instantly unclawed Minho, grip going lax, eyes slowly closing, head leaning into your touched until it fell to the ground, completely paralyzed and in bliss.

Minho was too busy heaving on both his hands and knees to speak.

“Are you okay? Did it sting you?”

He shook his head, not sure what question he was answering but the lack of a hole in his neck reassured you. He looked back at the dragon, surprised to find it in a daze on the floor. He didn’t have to ask, you could read the questions all over his face. How did you do that? But you quickly dragged him up and out the maze, not letting him utter a word.

You didn’t like using any of the tricks you learned in front of others or in your training sessions. This was a slip-up. thankfully no one was around to see it except Minho. As much as you had prayed that the Lee’s would get eaten by a dragon you didn’tThankfully mean it.

“Congratulations! you're the first team out.” Commander Kim claps both of you on your backs, a bit too roughly.

“We make a good team,” you sheepishly said to minho, not expecting him to reply.

A smile tugged at his lips, one you had never imagined you'd see directed at you. “yeah… I guess we do.”

You were going to have to give hyunjin a visit with the way your heart was palpating so much lately.

IX.

“Starlight I can't throw that!” the sound of your laugh echoed in the empty forest.

The pond mimicked the sunset above, reflecting the apricot haze off the water, rippling softly as you swung your feet to and fro. Pants pulled up to your knees, scratches and marks from starlight rough playing on display.

Said dragon whined and nudged at the fully grown tree that he tossed at your feet a second ago after the fragile twigs you kept throwing him kept snapping between his sharp teeth.

The dragon was almost completely healed by now, the stitches have worked, you took them out the other day and the dragon could fly again. It was a very melancholic event, you were happy it could fly again but you were going to miss hanging with him. The moment you took the last stitch out, it zoomed away without looking back, spinning and soaring in the sky.

“You're not going to say goodbye ?!”

So he came back, gave you a lick that clung to your hair and clothes and took hours to pull off of you, gave one last look with its wide green eyes, then spread its wings and flapped away, roaring happily as he did.

You may have shed a tear or two, but no one shall know. Missing your companion, you went back the next day to the same place it has been inhabiting for the last week and a half and low and behold, and there it was drinking from the pond, waiting for you to visit.

As days go by, you slowly saw more sides of the dragon unfold as it started trusting you. Whether it be how quick-witted it was with the way he mimicked whatever he saw you do, to how goofy and puppy-like he could be with the way he would sleep upside down like a bat on a tree or spin around in circles trying to catch his own tail, All to which help solidify your thought. Dragons were not your enemy.

starlight whined again once it saw you laugh at him, “Bud, I can't just throw a tree like you!”

he turned his back on you, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old that had his favorite toy taken away.

“Bud, come on,” you reached to pet its head but he stubbornly turned away.”I'm tiny compared to you, I don't have wings I cant fly. I don't have superhuman strength either, that's why I have you by my side.” you hugged it, trying to turn its head towards you.

“look at you, acting like a baby, you even look the part!” you were referring to the stray tree leaves stuck between the scales on the back of his neck, no doubt from when he pulled the tree out of the ground. You climbed on his back to pluck them out, and before you knew it, your feet were no longer on the ground. Now call yourself crazy but you had always thought of riding on the back of a dragon before, wondering how it would feel to touch the clouds. But not when the dragon was playfully somersaulting mid-air, over the ocean, 50 feet above.

“STARLIGHT!! PUT ME DOWN!! BADBOY!!” you yelled, eyes glued closed out of fear. that seemed to make it sulk even more as he playfully zipped down and dipped the edges of his wings into the water before spraying you with it, making you shut your eyes even tighter.

“STARLIGHT PLEASE!!” You have anything to catch on to except his bare body which wasn't much. Your fingers were slipping from the momentum he was flying at. “ STARLIGHT IM GONNA FALL!! PLEASE PUT ME DOWN”

It stubbornly flew higher, wings heavily swifting through the air, until it broke through the first layer of clouds. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! YOU’RE A GOOD BOY, YOU’RE THE BEST PET DRAGON EVER NOW PUT ME DOWN didn't.”

It was satisfied with that and flew you back down, just in time for your fingers to finally slip and lose grip. Your body bomb dives to the ground, landing all your weight on your wrist for support, causing it to twist a weird angle.

“Ah!” Your exclaim caught the dragon's attention, seeing you in pain made him look at you all pleadingly, with dilated pupils, the same way he does whenever he knows he did something wrong.

“Starlight, you can't just do that without me knowing, I'm not like you if I had fallen from you that might have been the end of me.”

It whined and looked at the floor, huffing out a fiery breath. You tried to move your wrist, but it was refusing to move without any pain.

“Great, now I'm going to have to visit hyunjin.” A sigh slips from your lips. It wasn’t like you were avoiding hyunjin…but you were avoiding him.

The dragon before you got up and hurls to the pile of food you gave him earlier, only for him to come back with a fish in his mouth.

A peace offering. You did the same thing to him when you first freed him from your bolt and again when you stitched him up.

Starlight was intelligent, perceptive, a quick learner. You caught sight of him a couple of times copying whatever you were doing, be it sitting by the brinks of the pond with your legs in the water- the dragon plunged its whole tail in instead- or laying down on your back and closing your eye to take a breather.

Sorcery is what people would say if they saw this. You have manged to tame the so allegedly accused untamable. You managed to win its trust, and with it came its whole being.

It was a very moving gesture, he felt guilty and didn't want you to be mad at him. He dropped the fish and nudged at it, begging you with his eyes.

“Oh, starlight.” You pet his head with your good hand“ I'm not mad at you, but next time do give me a heads up. I'm not like you, I don't have wings, if I plunge from a high place, I will die.”

It licked at your knotted up hair, leaving a trail of spit as he did, A bad habit he has that you have yet to teach him not to do because it made it even harder for your detangle your hair.

“Ugh, thanks bud.” You wipe the goo off your face, spraying back at him.

He helped you get up to your feet, letting you put your body weight on him. He walked you all the way up the slope you descend from to get down here, but it didn't step a foot out of place, he knew you wouldn't allow him too. It was too dangerous, you couldn’t have someone accidentally see the both of you here.

“Thanks, starlight,” with your good hand you itched behind its perked ear, right where you knew made him turn to a purring mess “Now be a good boy and stay out of sight?”

You pulled your hand back, but starlight followed it, nudging your hand back over his head. You laughed again at him “ I’ll give you more pats tomorrow. Stay hidden, okay bud?” If it were a human being, the sulky pout would be evident on its face.

“Now go on you big baby.” he let out one last screech before it flew away.

Its been a while since you've visited hyunjin and you've been meaning to go one of these days, but you were dreading having to answer the question you knew he would ask about the ambiguous causes of all your injuries, so you just avoided going to him, preferring to heal your wounds at home with you minimum knowledge of dressing burns and scraps. But this seemed like it might need professional attention.

A sigh slips out again once you're in front of Hyunjin's door. Throbbing wrist in hand, throbbing headache in the process.

“I was wondering when you would stop avoiding me.” Hyunjin's snarky voice greeted you.

Of course, he would notice. This has been the longest you’ve gone without seeing him, but you were pretty occupied with your new pet.“I...wasn’t avoiding, practice has me occupied.”

“Uh hah is that so ?” he deadpanned, stare poking holes into your soul.

“So what did i do in my past life for you to grace me with your precence?” He mocked a bow.

“Ha ha very funny.” You held up your wrist and showed it to him. “ i fell down and sprained my wrisy.”

“ did you fall down a hellhole or something?” he gently took hold of your hand, twisting it here and there to see what he was dealing with.

“You could say that.”

“Lucky you, it doesn’t seem fractured, probably just trauma. Keep it wrapped and it'll be good as new in no time.”

He brought out a cloth and started to wrap your hand firmly in it. He pushed the sleeve of your shirt up and noticed all the burn marks adorning your skin.

“So are you going to tell me how you really sprained your hand?” Knowing you had an excuse ready on your tongue, he continued, “And why you look like our rusty thousand-year-old cauldron?” His tone was nothing like his playful one earlier.

“Fell down the rabbit hole.” He didn't appreciate your joke by the looks of it. His hands stopped and he looked you dead in the eye,” Y/N your really starting to worry me. Is something wrong? Is someone doing this to you? Is it Minho?”

“What?! No! No one is doing this to me.”He stayed still, gaze still holding yours, doubt shifting in them.

“Trust me. I'm fine in that regard. Minho's actually…been tolerable lately.” You didn't realize it but a smile took form upon your face and it didn't slip Hyunjin’s radar.

“What do you mean?”

A third sigh in less than ten minutes graced your lips, but this one wasn't of exasperation. “Ever since commander Kim partnered us up for a task, Minho’s been civil with me.”

you didn't mention the shy smiles shared between coincidental run-ins. You hadn't imagined that the smile he gave you after the game was over would grace you for the rest of the week. Whenever you would see him, you would send him a smile, and he’d give you one back. It set fire to your veins, burning your nerves- a good kinda burn, not like the ones starlight usually toasted you like a marshmallow with.

You didn't talk or anything, but it wasn't that suffocating silence either. You were tiptoeing on eggshells, not knowing whether you should be the one to talk first or not.

“Still doesn’t explain why you're all tattered up.” He wasn't letting the subject go. Maybe now was the time for you to tell him. You trusted hyunjin. He could keep a secret.

But just like the last time you saw him, a door opening intervened your moment. This time it being the main door of the house. You both turned to see none other than the devil himself standing there.

Lee Minho.

Hyunjin glanced at you before looking back at Minho, noticing the small smiles that fused both of your faces.

“Hurry up,” you mouth to hyunjin, but hyunjin being hyunjin slows down deliberately instead. If it wasn’t for how good looking he was you would’ve punched him back to the days he was a blabbering mess of gaga’s and giggles (not that he was any different now).

“What brings you here? “ hyunjin asks Minho while his hands are busy moving no faster than his brain cells over your wrist.

“Mother said you have a new batch made of that sleeping potion.”

“Yeah, it's around the back let me bring it for you.” He looked at you, pointing an accusing finger at you “ and you, this conversation isn't over.”

“Yeah yeah just go now.” You shoo him with your now, thankfully, fully wrapped hand.

Minho stood next to you, eyes inquisitively grazing over your injured hand.“What..” he seemed to be contemplating whether to continue asking or not but seeing as you maintained eye contact, curiosity shining in them, he gathered the courage up “what happened?” He timidly asks.

That took both you and your heart by surprise, “I- Just tripped and fell, nothing serious.”

He nodded and you think you hear him murmur “that's good “ under his breath but you weren't so sure with the way his head cocked downward. It was so unlike him.

“Are you okay?” You decide to ask because the sag of his shoulders, the disheveled clothes, the unkempt hair and the circles around his eyes were getting concerningly bigger each time you saw him that he could almost rival how big starlight's eyes were.

He looked surprised at your question. The act of you taking an interest in his well being stirred something in him, sending tingles down his fingertips. He stayed quiet for a bit, pondering on what to say. The soft sound of the clock ticking keeping your thoughts company “I’m —"

“Here you go.” Sometimes hyunjin could spout out words that could rival Plato’s, other times he was as dumb as a plank of wood. You had never wanted to shove his long pretty fingers down his throat more than now.

Unable to read the moment, you shot hyunjin a glare for interrupting Minho from finally talking to you. Wasn’t he the one always encouraging you to go and speak to him?

Minho look disappointed too, shoulders sagging even more, a hint of dismay in his voice“ thanks.” He paid and ran away. Not looking back at you.

“So, where were we?” Hyunjin called back at you.

“ you know what, maybe some other time.” You followed Minho out.

“Y/N!!!”

Sniffles.

Not yours but of some obscure figure that slipped out of the Lee residence. door closing behind them, shutting any light from slipping onto the dark shadows of the night. Sardonic laughter followed the figure out, slumping tiredly to the ground.

Your legs locked in place, lungs frozen, afraid that making a sound would disturb the figure even more. A Wizz of breeze rustled the trees behind you, turning the figure’s head in your direction, faint moonlight emphasizing the wet trail decorating Minho’s cheeks.

It was Minho. He was crying.

Your mind came to a halt for a second, you think your heart did too. What do you do when you see someone that you not long ago wished them the most heinous way of dying looking the same way starlight did when you took away his ability to fly- tired, hopeless and scared.

upon your feet crossing the space between you and him, Minho held his palm up, stopping you in track, “ Go away,” He looked the other way, his other hand wiping whatever his thin sleeves could catch “I don’t need your pity.”

And you would have complied any other day, but the hollowness filling his eyes scared you. His deep brown eyes that would usually glimmer with a hint of mischievousness around you were gone, leaving nothing but black sinkholes. “Im not doing this out of pity.”

He didn't look your way. “I told you to go away, princess.”

“And I told you to stop calling me princess.”

silently you fold down beside him, not speaking, but letting him know you were here. His sniffles were the only thing breaking the silence every few seconds. He side glanced you, a sigh coming out of him seeing you stubbornly sticking by his side. He set his hands down beside him to hold his weight while he faced straight ahead, staring at the moon waving behind big dark clouds, There were no tears on his face but his eyes were red and shiny, wetness clinging onto his eyelashes, sticking them together.

You had your fair amount of silent moments with Minho, but you hated this one the most. No words were said but pain and grief lay so thick in the air you could touch it. It took no genius to know that he was getting teased, yet again, by his brothers before he stepped out of the house.

Timorously you set your hand above his, wordlessly speaking. He didn't retract his own. Instead, he aligned his palms to yours, triggering your beating organ to skip a beat.

“What's wrong?” you dare ask. That seems to set start his fountain of tears again as they clung desperately onto the tips of his lashes, lips quivering so he pressed to a tight line. He leaned on to you, laying his head on your shoulder, face hidden in your neck.

You didn't know if your heart clenching was from his crying or the proximity of him. You let him do as he pleased, hot tears dripping onto your neck, soaking your clothes. It brought tears to your own but you blinked them away, letting the wind dry them up. Your thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hands, occasionally drifting to trace over his knuckles, sharing warmth.

His deep heaves eventually lessened to normal breathing, tears no longer dripping.“What am I supposed to tell him when he comes back?” he crooned so softly that if you weren't listing for it you would've missed it.

It took you a second to realize who he was talking about. “Your father?”

He sniffed.

“ I...dont know.” You squeezed his hand,” I wouldn’t know what to tell mine either.”

The mark of your father's return was nearing and it had you in a swirl of emotions. No doubt you would be joyed at him coming back alive, but you did not know how you would unveil your new discovery to him, Vikings have spent years upon decades slaughtering dragons, finding pleasure in it, turning it into a sick contest of masculinity and strength.

Minho’s hair tickled the side of your face, reminding you he was still there.It was warm- you were warm, despite the cold draft swifting on by. Sitting next to him, under the glinting beam of the moonlight fluttering through the clouds sent warmth down both your bodies.

“My brothers are right. I’m not worthy of the Lee family’s name.”

That startled a reaction out of you, moving back so Minho was obliged to stop hiding in your neck. “Hey,” you called him but when he continued looking away you unlaced your hand from his, and instead held his face, gently turning it to meet your eyes, palms cupping his cheeks. “Look at me.”

“Just because they can ruthlessly skin a dragon alive and pluck its teeth out with their bare hands doesn’t make them any more worthy than you are.” You had said it with so much sincerity that it almost swayed him. It sent an unfamiliar surge of warmth roaming freely in his chest. His eyes stared into yours, shining with unshed tears.

“Lee Minho, you’re a kind, rare soul and if anything, it's them that are unworthy of you.” His eyes quivered, switching between your eyes and lips. You didn't know where these words were coming from, but you meant every single one of them. It might’ve taken a while for you to see it but Minho really was caring in his own way.

You didn't know what force pulled the both of you together but before any of you could wrap your minds around it, you felt Minho’s cold lips pressed on yours. Your hold on his cheeks weakened, fingers sliding down his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

After what could’ve been minutes felt like hours, he distanced himself enough to murmur, “I don't want to kill, Y/N” the way your name melted off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, grounding you in place with his gaze, breaths tickling your lips. You were seeing and experiencing a lot of firsts, uncovering new sides of Minho.

“Maybe…” you hesitated. Should you tell him? Could you trust him enough to know that he won't take advantage of knowing where starlight likes to hide at night and run back to tell his father in an attempt of redemption? You would be giving the perfect salvation plan.

“Maybe we don't have too.” You pulled away, standing up with your hand outstretched to him. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

It was a huge leap of faith, trusting a Lee. But if Minho bawling his eyes out in the middle of the night over not wanting to slaughter dragons wasn’t enough of an indication of how different Minho was to them then you really were as blind and as thick-headed as a ground mole.

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

Text

Withered Flowers 1/3

Alternatively titled, Never Dare Your Friend to Give You a Dark Prompt. So... this is gonna be a really dark fic and I cannot stress enough about reading the trigger warnings. This is not gonna be happy and I truly emphasize reading the trigger warnings for this fic. To clarify, Schlatt is good here and Fundy was never a spy for Pogtopia.

TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Violence, and Insane Wilbur Soot

Here is the link for the ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649148/chapters/70226577

Snapdragons

His footsteps reverberated across the desolate wooden path, his form shivering at the damp and dark expanse of the man-built cave. His head was abuzz with worry and a guilt, every step forward felt as if he walking towards his own demise. His hands were sticky with sweat and cement residue, a hint to what he had done in the day. He swallowed down the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat, the stench of fear palpable in the air as he made his way into the pitiful abode of his father.

"Hello?" His voice was soft, a low whisper that still bounced off the chipped stone walls. The stairs groaned beneath his weight, his tail low to the ground as his ears were tightly pressed to the top of his head. His gold-speckled brown eyes scanned the seemingly empty ravine, widening as he catches a glimpse of a silhouette standing in the mess that was Pogtopia. He takes a shaky step towards the figure, his hand shaking as he places one on the man's shoulder. "Wil— Dad?"

The shoulder beneath his fingers tenses, the man turning abruptly face him. Fundy sees the tinge of red on the man's hand, the mystery item disappearing into the folds of his trenchcoat. He sniffed at the air, the smell of gunpowder clinging to the tattered coat that Wilbur wore. Surprised brown eyes gazed down at him, a glint of an emotion Fundy couldn't name swirling in those dark precipesis. Wilbur's soot-covered hands hovered around Fundy's sides, his mouth agape in wonder and bewilderment.

"F-Fundy?" A cold calloused hand reached out to cup his cheek, that unrelenting stare scouring his entire being as if in fear that he was but an illusion. The man before him let out a small sob, an arm snaking behind his back to pull him into a tight embrace. Fundy couldn't help but tremble in his father's hold, a sinking feeling in his stomach yelled at him to run, to flee. He stayed where was, fearing what might happen if he dared pull away. "My son. My son. You're actually here. You're here... Safe. You're safe."

He patted Wilbur's back, confused at the man's cryptic words. "I missed you too, dad." Wilbur cried at that, pulling him further into his hold as a hand pressed his head into the crook of his father's neck. Fundy felt ash stain his cheek, a patch of gray on his father's skin that made him freeze in his tracks. Still, he hadn't seen his dad in years, his life deluded by the busy days of Schlatt's Administration. Though his senses screamed at him, he melted into the touch. "I missed you so much."

He heard Wilbur murmur something under his breath, a flurry of words that didn't quite reach Fundy's rapidly twitching ears. Their embrace ended, Wilbur holding him at arms length by his shoulders as he looked deep into Fundy's face. A smile was on the man's face, a contentment that Fundy never thought he'd see in his father's eyes. "I had hoped you'd find your way here. I couldn't sneak you out of Manburg— I tried to free you but I could never find you. Are you alright? Has Schlatt hurt you?"

Fundy tilted his head at the question, startled at the question. Wilbur gripped his shoulders gently, as if he was a fragile piece of glass that would shatter at any moment. "Dad... Schlatt hasn't hurt me. I don't understand where this concern is coming from..." Wilbur's gaze tracked his every moment - every twitch of his finger, intent on searching for a sign that he needed help. He wouldn't find it. "Dad, believe it or not, Schlatt's been doing a lot of good for the country. You've heard about the festival, right?"

"Of course I have..." Wilbur's voice quivered, a whisper that held too little emotion within it. Fundy watched as Wilbur took in the black-tailored suit that fit perfectly onto him, the red tie that proudly showed on his collar. Fundy had recently come from a meeting, sneaking out the moment he realized Schlatt would be busy in his office for the entirety of the day. Schlatt was a nice man, caring and genuinely interested in the betterment of Manburg, but he was quite protective over those within the cabinet, especially towards Fundy and Tubbo. Fundy smiled at the memory of Schlatt nearly having a heart attack each time he or Tubbo would do anything reckless. "Fundy... Why are you wearing a suit? Why are you wearing his suit?"

“Um... I just got back from a meeting, dad.” He felt that terrible urge to run again, that gleam in his father’s eyes sending a shiver of fear down his spine. He didn’t understand. Why would he? This was his dad. HIS DAD. Wilbur had never been unkind to him, had never raised a hand at him. Then why did every part of him scream at him to run? Fundy shook his head, wincing as he felt Wilbur’s grip tighten on his shoulders. Wilbur was just stressed. That was all. He forced a smile on his face, hoping that Wilbur wouldn’t take his clothes so personally. It was just a suit, after all. Wilbur’s gaze was fixed on his red tie, almost as if he wanted to tear it off of him. Fundy trembled, “Dad...? Are you okay? Do you really hate suits that much? It’s... It doesn’t mean anything, dad. It’s just a suit━”

“It’s his suit.” Wilbur shoved him away, eyes narrowing dangerously as he turned to head further into the ravine. Fundy bit his bottom lip, wondering if that was his cue to leave. He swallowed down his cowardice and followed after Wilbur, eyes taking in the beautiful yellow lanterns that hung above them. They casted eerie shadows on the walls as they headed deeper into the cold and damp cave. Fundy tugged at the sleeves of his suit jacket, wishing he had grabbed a sweater or a scarf before he went to visit his dad. His attention turned to the man before him, scared of the stranger that had stolen his father’s skin. Wilbur... Wilbur wasn’t this... Fundy didn’t know what it was that sent alarm bells in his mind, but this man wasn’t his dad. Wilbur paused and turned around abruptly, Fundy nearly falling into his open arms. He felt those dark brown eyes looking down at him, their murky surface piercing through his soul. “Why are you here, Fundy? Is this some sort of game you’re playing? Are you here to gain information? How did you even find this place? Did he send you here?”

“What? Dad, no! I... Tubbo showed me the way to Pogtopia... I-I-I just missed you.” Fundy felt the edge of his lips tug down, his ears pressed close to the top of his head as his father’s questions ripped through his heart. His tail curled around his right leg, all semblance of joy dissipating as he took in the suspicion in his father’s eyes. Didn’t his own dad trust him? He glanced down towards the scuffed ground, biting back the tears that threatened to spill past his eyes. It only took a second before Wilbur pulled him back into an embrace, whispering apologies into his ear as a hand rubbed the back of his head. Fundy let himself be held, refusing to return the gesture even as Wilbur’s apologies began to devolve into simple ‘I’m sorry’s’. “I thought I should give you a visit before the festival. I’m not really sure if I’ll ever see you again after that, so I just had to see you, even if it is for the last time.”

“Last time?” Wilbur’s voice was but a whisper, Fundy straining to even hear his father’s words. Wilbur’s hand had paused at the nape of his neck, startled into stillness. Fundy breathed in deeply, small tremors running through his fingers as he placed a shaky hand on Wilbur’s back. “What do you mean ‘last time’? Fundy, it’s only a matter of time before I get L’Manburg back.”

“Dad...” Fundy struggled out of the man’s grip, not missing the way Wilbur tried to pull him back in... as if he was scared to let him go. Wilbur looked at him, a broken look in his eyes that Fundy couldn’t help but feel guilty for. He put that look there, didn’t he? He shook his head, struggling to form the words he wanted to say. “I... Dad, I don’t think Schlatt’s ever going to let you back into Manburg.”

"Manburg..." There was a low growl in the way Wilbur had said it, his hands clenching into fists. Fundy shifted on his feet, averting his gaze as he felt those eyes scrutinize him once more. It felt like he had been caught sneaking out, like the old days where Wilbur was adamant he stayed within the suffocating walls of their country. Wilbur placed a shaky hand on his chin, tilting his head up as he forced Fundy to look him in the eyes. Fundy raised a hand to hold onto Wilbur's wrist, though he didn't wrench those prying fingers away from him. Wilbur's eyes were dangerously narrowed, a hint of a snarl on his lips. Fundy could only hope that it wasn't meant for him. His dad wasn't... He didn't seem quite right... There was something wrong. Fundy held his breath, fearful that any movement of his could be taken wrongly. "The revolution has just begun, my son. L'Manburg will be ours once more. Just give it time, Fundy."

“Dad... Overthrowing Schlatt would be... wrong.” Fundy clenched his right hand, his nails digging into the skin. The grip on his chin tightened, nearly bruising. He breathed in through his teeth, fearful of what Wilbur may do with every wrong word that came out of his mouth. He wished he had stayed in Manburg, wished he hadn’t tried to seek out a father he hadn’t seen in nearly two years. He whimpered, patting at Wilbur’s wrist. Wilbur didn’t let up, his eyes murky with emotion that Fundy realized - startled at how it took him so long - was insanity. He contemplated his next words, thinking about what could possibly allow him to leave this situation with his two remaining lives. He felt trapped beneath that horrible gaze. He forced out a laugh, “Dad... You’re kind of hurting my chin there, could you maybe let go? Heh.”

Wilbur paused for a long time, lips set into a thin line as if he was contemplating on doing just that. Slowly, Fundy felt those fingers leave, his chin aching that he worried he might actually gain a bruise. He didn’t need Schlatt to see him later and ask why he had a growing bruise on his face. Fundy gave Wilbur a soft smile, knowing that it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Fundy, you wouldn’t understand. Schlatt needs to be taken down, that’s the entire point of Pogtopia, Fundy!” Fundy flinched at the harsh tone, his ears twitching as the man began to ramble. “Schlatt is a tyrant. I know you think he’s doing good for L’Manburg and maybe he is. But I don’t care, Fundy. He doesn’t deserve to rule over L’Manburg. I don’t expect you to understand...”

There it was. Fundy forced down the growl that threatened to escape his lips, the yells that he wished to scream at the man he called his dad. Fundy cared for his dad, loved him even, but Wilbur was the one who didn’t understand. At least, he didn’t understand Fundy. On that faithful day, when he was forced to watch his dad be exiled from the only home they’ve ever known, he had sworn to himself to do anything within his power to bring his dad home. Then... Schlatt had given him something Wilbur could never show him, praise. Schlatt didn’t constantly coddle him or speak to him in a condescending and babyish tone. Sure, the man was protective at times, but he was never constricting. Fundy was given an actual job, a respectable position, and a father figure that actually took the time to listen to him. He didn’t feel like a child who was forced to sit in the kiddie table while the adults talked in the other room. He was important.

“Dad, I came to spend my limited time with you.” Wilbur froze mid-walk, eyes snapping towards him. Fundy shook his head, casting away the resentment that ate at his bones. Wilbur loved him. He was never the best at showing it but Fundy knew Wilbur loved him. “I don’t want to talk to you about Pogtopia or Manburg, er L’Manburg. Can I please just have my dad right now?”

“Oh, Fundy. You’re right.” Fundy nearly sighed in relief as Wilbur relaxed, that gleam in his eyes disappearing as he placed a placating hand on Fundy’s shoulder. Wilbur gave him a tired smile, gently leading him down towards one of the rooms. Fundy let himself led, ignoring the voices in his head that begged at him to run. “How long do you have with me?”

“The entire day. Schlatt has two stacks of paperwork to accomplish and Tubbo will be escorting him around the grounds in the afternoon so Schlatt could see the festival preparations.” Fundy snuggled up to Wilbur’s side, glad that his father held him closer. They both entered a small room, a makeshift kitchen tucked into the corner as a horribly thrown together table took up most of the room. Wilbur led him towards an unstable looking chair, Fundy laughing as the chair nearly toppled over in his haste to take a seat. Wilbur chuckled, running a hand through Fundy’s messy ginger hair. Fundy tapped his hands on the table, hoping that he didn’t accidentally break it. “We get to spend the whole day together. Yay!”

“You’ll have to leave after, don’t you?” Wilbur frowned, his eyes glazing over... not that Fundy noticed. Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to think about what Fundy had said a few moments prior.

“Yes... and I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again.” Fundy bit his bottom lip, wishing his voice didn’t crack at the end. Schlatt didn’t like Wilbur for some reason. Fundy had no doubt he wouldn’t see Wilbur for another two years.

“Okay... We’ll just have to make the most of our time then.” Fundy felt Wilbur’s hand stop at the top of his head, resting there for a few seconds before leaving. He frowned at the sudden loss of touch, though he refused to show how much it bothered him. Wilbur began to hum underneath his breath, walking towards the small kitchen in the corner. Fundy couldn’t see what Wilbur was doing as a large and wonky wooden wall blocked the view towards the kitchen. He could hear the bustle of movement from within the kitchen, the soft hymn of an old song drifting through the room. Fundy jumped, recognizing the old anthem of a country long gone. Fundy began to thrum his fingers at the edge of the table, wondering about how long he could stay in Pogtopia. Schlatt would be taking a stroll with Tubbo in the late afternoon. Would Schlatt notice his absence if he stayed with his dad for that long? He reached up towards his ears, tugging as he bit his bottom lip. Surely Schlatt wouldn’t notice, right? It wasn’t like Fundy ran around Manburg during the late afternoon. “Fundy, we only have potato stew... though I’m sure I could spare a bit of our steak supply... Would that be alright with you?”

Fundy felt a pang of guilt at that question. He placed a hand on his chest as he swiveled around in his chair, nearly falling to the ground in his haste to do so. He couldn’t see Wilbur in the kitchen, but he knew the man was there, no doubt looking through the chests. “Dad, I’m not really hungry. In fact, I ate on the way here. You should save your food supply. You wouldn’t want to starve, right?”

There was a long and heavy pause, one that made Fundy wish he hadn’t opened his mouth in the first place. He knew how terrible it was to hear those words, how it was an insult to Wilbur that he couldn’t even feed his own son, but Pogtopia needed every supply they had. Fundy didn’t support their revolution, but he didn’t want his dad to die from starvation. “At least... have some soup.”

“…Okay.” Fundy bit his bottom lip, the tip of his feet kicking at the hard ground beneath. How could he possibly refuse? His father looked like he hadn’t seen a week’s worth of sleep, and Fundy knew firsthand how… unstable Wilbur could be when he was exhausted. He remembered the first war of independence, the rare times where Wilbur would seemingly snap at the poor soul who had managed to catch his ire at the time. Of course, Wilbur would apologize the next day, saying he never meant a single scathing word that had escaped his lips the previous day. Fundy nodded his head at the small noises that arose from the kitchen, focusing his attention at the sound of liquid splashing onto a wooden bowl. Guilt gnawed at his heart, Wilbur really shouldn’t waste Pogtopia’s supplies on a… on a traitor like him. “So… potato soup… I guess the rumors are true. Uncle Tech― The Blade is here, in Pogtopia.”

“Your Uncle Techy is here, Funds. He and Tommy are out, something about sparring practice. You know how they are.” Fundy’s ear pricked up as he heard Wilbur emerge from the kitchen, turning to his head to watch as the man carried over a small bowl of soup. He felt his stomach growl, hoping to whatever deity that watched over them that Wilbur didn’t hear it. The soup was placed on the table, the wood creaking under the weight (Dre, how weak was this table―). Fundy glanced at the familiar concoction in front of him, large pieces of potato floating on the sludge that was meant to be soup. He remembered a time where his uncle had to convince him that, no, they weren’t trying to poison him. To an outsider, the soup might look inedible, but Fundy knew better. Dre… He hadn’t eaten potato soup in such a long time. He felt his lips quirk into a smile, fingers clutching the wooden spoon that Wilbur had provided him. “It might taste a bit stale.”

“You know you shouldn’t waste your supplies on me. You… You need this more than me, dad.”

“Eat your soup, Fundy. I don’t want my own son to starve.”

“Dad… Skipping one meal isn’t going to kill me.” He watched his dad tense up at the words, sighing as he finally ate a spoonful of the soup. The warm liquid burned at the back of his throat, tasteless and somehow spicy. Fundy frowned, glancing down at the soup for any sign of change. Clumps of potato stared back at him. He shook his head, pushing back his instinct to run. He ate another spoonful, aware of Wilbur’s heated gaze that followed his hand each time he dipped the spoon into the bowl to get more soup. Fundy winced as a tingling sensation began to numb his tongue. Wow. Was Wilbur experimenting or something? Fundy nearly laughed at the idea of Wilbur picking up other hobbies during his exile. “This is… This is something, dad. Did Tommy ask you to make the soup spicier than usual? I… uh… I can barely feel my tongue.”

“Change of recipe because Tommy threatened to burn down Pogtopia if we kept eating the same old soup for dinner.” They both chuckled at Tommy’s antics. Fundy leaned back in his seat, forcing down more soup despite the sudden nausea that encompassed his mind. Huh… was he always this tired? He rubbed a hand on his face, his forehead burning with a phantom fever. Wilbur watched him from across the table, lips pressed into a thin line. Fundy tried to focus on his father’s dark brown eyes. Were they always that dark? “Are you alright, Fundy? You look pale.”

“Hm…? I-I’m fine, dad.” His tail curled around him, a semblance of comfort. He tried to snap out of it. He was just… tired from decorating for the festival. “Must be the lack of… sleep.”

“Lack of sleep?” He heard the scrape of wood against cobblestone, a cool clammy hand pressed onto his forehead as his father’s figure appeared within his view. He flinched, wondering how he didn’t notice Wilbur approach him. He heard his dad tsk beneath his breath, a look of regret passing his eyes, though Fundy didn’t know why Wilbur would look at him with such guilt. He tried to move away, to stand up, but he found that he couldn’t. He took a shallow breath, trying to push down the panic rising in his chest. “How… How many hours of sleep have you been getting, son?”

He would have been indignant at the question if it weren’t for the dizziness that dulled his mind. Even Schlatt had told him to get more sleep, having noticed the fox hybrid’s insistence to decorate at ungodly hours of the night. Fundy couldn’t help it. The chill night air helped him think. His throat felt impossibly dry. What the fuck was happening? “Uh… two hours. It’s fine, dad.”

“Is Schlatt forcing you to work?”

“What? Dad, no! You know I prefer to work at night.” Fundy blinked, dark splotches appearing in his vision. He could barely feel Wilbur’s arms holding him upright, his head abuzz with a confusing mist. He shook his head, regretting it as the world disappeared before his very eyes. He felt a rush of air against his cheek. A moment later, he found himself kneeling on the floor, his face pressed to the crook of Wilbur’s neck as a hand began to pet the back of his hair. His dulled instincts pitifully begged for him to run, whispering danger into every pore of his body. There was something wrong. He shivered in his father’s hold, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t sick. No. No. No. This was something else. It had to be something else. He was perfectly fine this morning. He tried to force himself out of his father’s hold, managing to tilt his head so he could see into Wilbur’s gaze. “Dad… Wilbur, what did you― Dad… why―?”

“If I had known you were so sleep deprived, I wouldn’t have had to spike your soup. Though… you’re quite stubborn so this might have been for the best.” He froze at Wilbur’s admission. He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. Fundy trembled in his father’s arms, hands pushing against Wilbur’s chest as he struggled to escape. Wilbur shushed him, whispering words of comfort as if consoling an outraged toddler. “It’s okay, Fundy. You’re safe here. With me. You don’t have to go back.”

Fundy couldn’t speak, frightened that he’d end up crying instead. He began to beat at his father’s chest, knowing deep down that he wasn’t really doing much damage. Wilbur began to hum, the hand at the back of Fundy’s hair forcing his head back into the crook of his father’s neck. Fundy closed his eyes, hoping that this was just a bad dream. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. “Just go to sleep, son. I’ll be here when you wake up. I won’t leave you this time. I promise.”

‘What happened to you, dad?’ Fundy felt the claws of sleep tear at his mind.

“I’ll protect you this time, Fundy. I’ll protect you.”

Fundy felt his body turn numb, his thoughts falling into ruin.

He faints, his father’s caging hold the last thing he feels.

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Oh I am so sorry ;-; This is pain.

#fundy #wilbur soot #mcyt #tw: drugging #tw: kidnapping #tw: violence #insane wilbur soot is a trigger warning in and of itself

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