#my back and wrists hurt so i can’t draw any more tonight but if i could i’d take a crack at aquala… another time perhaps

[lyonnerileyauthor]

That's right—Five Gifts for the Blacksmith's Wife is finished and ready to go out to Patrons TOMORROW, November 26th! Join now at any paid level and you'll get the book!

And now... a blurb!

Then it’s time for bed, and both my cock and my heart are very pleased at the idea of sleeping side-by-side again. Sita takes off her clothes, leaving on her undergarments as I requested, and lies down on the bed in a very enticing manner. I kiss her again, more passionately, and her body rises off the blankets into my touch. I can’t help but trail my hands down to those marvelous breasts again, teasing her nipples over the fabric. She moans underneath me, so sensitive and eager, and I have to breathe deeply to keep my baser urges at bay. No, tonight I will show her a different sort of pleasure. As we take our time to navigate through this, I would hate for her to be left unsatisfied, even if my own cock must be kept quiet. Keeping Sita on her back, I crouch over her hips and draw one hand down between her thighs. Nervously, she keeps them together, clearly afraid of how I’ll react after my discovery last night. “Open for me?” I ask. Slowly, she does, lifting her underskirt so I can reach her bare skin. Like I did before, I tease that hidden bud with my finger until she’s snapping her hips up into my hands. Then my head drifts lower, until my face is only inches away from that pristine place, and my mouth is watering for her. “Gurrek?” Sita asks, clearly uncertain about my intentions between her thighs. “I’m going to touch you there.” I continue playing with her clit, never relenting. “With my mouth.” “Your mouth?” She’s aghast at the suggestion. “You shouldn’t!” I tilt my head. “Why not? I kiss your lips.” “It’s very different to kiss down there!” Though she’s scandalized, she opens her legs anyway, her skin turning blotchy red. “It isn’t,” I say, lowering my head down until I can breathe in a whiff of her. Her scent is tantalizing, purely full of desire, and I like that I can make her drip for me. “Let me show you?” With a huff of indignation, Sita nods in acquiescence, and I finally get to lick her. All it takes is one swipe and she twitches, an exclamation falling from her lips. I lick again, twirling my tongue around her pearl, and she lets out a full-throated moan. Ah, yes, there it is. I dive in with intention and ferocity, laving my tongue over her as she squirms and whines, her body arching into my touch. I know what would make it even better—to slide a finger into her small slit and find the sweet spot inside her—but I’ll wait a little longer. That part will likely hurt, even if I’m gentle, and I want to show her more pleasure first. It doesn’t take long for Sita’s cries to grow louder and more exquisite, until she’s digging her hands into my hair. “Gurrek!” she calls out. My eyes roll back in my head at the sound of it, and I dig deeper, thrashing her tiny bud until her whole body freezes and she lets out a single, drawn-out moan. When I pull away, because I know she’s much too sensitive, I find the shine of her release running down from her slit and dripping onto the blankets. Good. I lie down beside Sita again as she pants, her eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. Slowly she turns to me, her face full of wonder. “What was that?” she asks, her chest heaving. “I’ve touched there before, but never... like that.” I wipe my lips with my wrist and grin down at her, satisfied that I’ve shown her something new. “I can do it every night,” I say, smoothing a hand down her belly to show my affection. She wriggles closer to me, seeking my touch, and I curl my arm around her. “But what do I do for you?” she asks, her lids drooping low. “How do I make you cry out my name?”

[tauforged]

my squids!!! and other assorted critters… had the idea awhile back that if there was a cowboy in the splatoon world, he could be tending to herds of cowrie snails and/or sea sheep nudibranchs… and then i became obsessed with the idea and now there’s a whole family of em. yeehaw! (more about em under a cut cuz i kinda rambled a bit ^^; i like my silly guys what can i say)

unnamed octo is my player character / neo agent 3, i just haven’t settled on a name i like for him yet…. butch and flicker are his adoptive dads and he grew up on their nudibranch ranch on the outskirts of the splatlands ^-^ alucod is the first friend he makes when he heads into the city, he’s the son of the mysterious but prestigious lord aquala*, who owns a fashion company that also specializes in custom weaponry, like alu’s brella. he’s also….oooooo…… a VAMPIRE!!! he can’t produce his own ink naturally and has to steal from others to keep from getting dehydrated over time. he’s angsty about it, but, yknow, in a pretentious teenager way... octo boy thinks he’s really cool no matter what though. he’d let him borrow some of his ink if he asked. besties forever <3

*(yes alu and his dads names are cheesy on purpose. i wanted to get a little silly with it)

** alucod, flicker, and aquala i actualy share custody of with my beautiful husband @helmofhades … luv you hon MWAH !!!

[k2padfoot]

Perfect

Eddie Munson x Y/n

summary: when your mind is plagued by bad thoughts Eddie wants nothing more than to comfort and reassure you just how perfect you really are. best friends to lovers.

warnings: TW. body shaming, mentions of anorexia, smoking, self loathing, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. SMUT!! (unprotected sex).

A/N: this fic is based on my own experience of skinny shaming. i don’t think a lot of people realize how hurtful it really is to be shamed in any way about your body. please be understanding and kind, all bodies are beautiful! also this is my first time writing smut so i hope y’all like it!!

“She’s so skinny it’s gross.”

“Look at her chicken legs.”

“Does she even eat anything?”

“She looks anorexic.”

“Isn’t she eighteen? She literally looks twelve.”

When your ears caught echo of the painful words from the girls behind you, you abandoned your lunch tray, it’s contents untouched on the table. A rush of emotion had you swiftly leaving the cafeteria, seeking solace beyond its walls.

It's not as if the whispers were unfamiliar to you. They’ve been a haunting refrain since childhood, but with the passing of time their intensity swelled, casting a darker shadow over you.

You harbored a self-loathing, a visual disdain to your own reflection, fueled by the relentless comparison to every other girl in school. Your legs seemed too slender, arms too skinny, lacking in curves, and a chest that barley made its presence known.

You found yourself walking into the woods and taking a seat at the aging picnic table nestled in the clearing. As you settled onto its weathered surface you allowed your head to fall into your hands while the tears began to flow.

The cascade of tears persisted, blurring your perception of the world around you, but the subtle sound of someone settling into the seat across from you reached your ears.

Aware that it was none other than your best friend, Eddie Munson, you didn’t have the courage to lift your gaze and meet his eyes.

You felt his comforting touch on your wrist as he delicately withdrew your trembling hands from your face, his voice laced with genuine concern, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

Your gaze barley rose to meet his, and the tears that welled in your eyes tugged at the strings of Eddie’s heart.

A fractured sigh escaped your lips, “You know just the perfect little cheerleaders spitting insults at me like usual.” You remarked with a scoff, a touch of bitterness in your voice.

A wave of distress swept over Eddie, unsettled by your words. “I’m sorry sweetheart. They’re just a bunch of preppy assholes, I know how shitty it feels to be the focal point of their laughs but you don’t deserve that. How can I help?”

In the quiet recess of your mind you considered a little temporary solution. “Hmm, you got a joint on you by any chance?”

A sly grin splayed on his lips, “Of course I do.” He quickly reached into his backpack pulling one out and sparking the end, “Don’t go anywhere without one.” Your eyes were glued to his lips as he took the joint into his mouth and slowly exhaled the smoke.

You finally broke the unyielding hold of your gaze when Eddie passed you the joint, taking it in between your lips and drawing in the smoke, Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the way it left your lips.

After the joint was passed back and forth until it was no longer burning you began to gather your things.

“You going home?” Eddie asked as he started to get up from the table.

“Yeah, don’t really feel up to going back to class.” You said, following his actions standing up and swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll join you.”

A rough sigh left your lips, “No Eddie, you have to go back to class if you want to graduate this year. I’ll be fine, seriously don’t worry about it.”

Eddie was hesitant to leave, in all honesty he just wants to take you home and tell you how beautiful you are, but he knows he can’t. “If you’re sure.” He said.

“I am Eddie, I’ll see you later tonight okay? Now get back to class.” You teased and he nodded before turning around, reluctance lingering in his every step away from you.

Eddie Munson found himself entangled in an enchantment with you, a feeling reciprocated by your own infatuation of him. However, the unspoken truth hung in the air, an uncharted territory where vulnerability loomed, both fearing to confess thinking the other might not feel the same.

Eddie hurried out of Hellfire in anticipation to get to your house. It was a movie night just like every Friday night, and in the wake of todays events, Eddie felt an undeniable urge to make this night special for you. To get your mind off of the harsh realities of the day. So he stopped at the general store grabbing all of your favorite snacks and picked up one of your favorite horror films from family video, A Nightmare on Elm Street.

When Eddie pulled into your driveway he was confused to see no lights on, he knew your parents were out of town but not even your bedroom light was on. Eddie jumped out of the van and hurried to the door, he knew you were home because your car was in the driveway so with his hands full of snacks he knocked a few times.

After the fourth unanswered knock, he hesitated briefly before cautiously turning the doorknob, and to his surprise it was unlocked.

Venturing into the dimly lit living area, he called out your name, the echoes of his voice fading into an unsettling silence. He continued on through the house making his way upstairs to your bedroom. As he reached your bedroom, Eddie’s worry intensified at the absence of your presence.

In that moment a delicate murmur of hushed sniffles reached his ears coming from the direction of your bathroom.

As he got closer he could hear the sobs racking through your body resonating through the closed door like a haunted melody.

Slowly as to not startle you he eased the door open revealing a sight that sent a shiver through him. There you were, a fragile silhouette against the wall, your form cradled by the floor. Knees drawn close, hands entwined in strands of your hair, and your face pressed against the haven of your legs. 

“Y-Y/n?” Eddie's voice, a gentle whisper, faltered as he knelt before you. "Sweetheart, I'm here.” He uttered, his warm hands finding solace on the curve of your knees.

At the sudden awareness of his presence, your head snapped upward, revealing your puffy red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. Your words struggled to escape, “Shit, I-I forgot you were coming over, I’m sorry.” A wave of guilt and embarrassment draped over you as you let your head fall back to your knees and your fingers grip into your hair.

“Princess, please stop pulling at that beautiful hair of yours.” Eddie’s gentle touch eased your hands from your head. “Can you look at me?” He whispered, delicately lifting your chin, his eyes searching the depths of your own.

“Talk to me sweetheart, tell me what’s bothering you.” His soft voice accompanied the feather-light dance of his thumb along the curve of your cheek.

A pause hung in the air as more tears fell from your eyes. “I-I hate my body. I hate the way I’m so fucking skinny compared to all the beautiful girls at school. I wish that I didn’t look like this, it’s disgusting!”

A heavy ache settled in his chest as he looked at you with sad eyes. “Don’t say that, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen Y/n.” His words softly spilled.

“W-What?”

He smiled gently, fingers softly sweeping to push aside a stray hair from your face, his touch lingering there for a moment. “Yeah, to me your perfect.”

Once more, you lowered your head, “Eddie—

“Stop, just listen to me for a second.” Again, he tenderly lifted your chin coaxing your eyes to meet his. “The first time I saw you, you took my breath away. Everything about you is so captivating, every facet of your being mesmerized me. From your striking eyes, to your infectious smile, the tiny little freckles like constellations on your skin. To the curves of your hips, and the shape of your thighs like a dance of contours, God you are just so beautiful Y/n.”

In that instant, your eyes welled up with tears stirred by his unexpected honesty. Caught in the shock of the moment, you instinctively surged forward bridging the gap as your lips met his in a tender, unexpected embrace.

Initially catching Eddie off guard, the awareness finally dawned on him that your lips had found his, instantly melting into the kiss. His hands ascended, gently cradling your face, while you fervently grasped at his soft locks. You both felt a whirlwind of sensations as neither of you had the intention to stop, yet the necessity for a breath of air became an undeniable plea.

As you reluctantly pulled away, a glistening thread of your mixed saliva separated your entwined lips. In that lingering moment you exchanged an intense gaze full of unspoken emotions.

“W-Wow, I’ve been waiting forever to do that.” He admitted, a warm smile splayed across his lips that was woven with threads of love.

You couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and the undeniable love swelling within your chest. “Me too.”

“Good, I’ve always liked you I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship incase you didn’t feel the same way about me.” He told you.

You let out a light hearted giggle, “Well that’s ridiculous isn’t it, because I’ve had feelings for you for years now.”

A curious frown etched across his brow, “So you’re saying you could’ve been mine all along?”

“Yes, because I’ve always been yours Eddie. I think we’ve wasted some serious time tiptoeing around our feelings for each other.” You let out a playful laugh.

“Well we don’t have to waste time anymore, do we?” Eddie said, his lips turning into a cunning grin.

You had to squeeze your thighs together when your eyes caught the bulge forming in his jeans. “Well, I-I guess you’re right.”

He roughly planted his lips on yours in a needy manner, swiftly pulling you to your feet and tugging you flush against his chest. His hands were exploring all over your body as he gently guided you towards your bedroom.

He softly tossed you onto the bed before reconnecting your lips in a desperate manner. “So beautiful.” Eddie muttered between kisses before his lips trailed to your neck and then to your ear. When he placed a gentle bite to your ear a hushed moan escaped your lips.

After placing a few more marks on your neck he drew himself back, his hands reaching for the hem of your t-shirt.

“W-wait!” you hastily rose your voice.

Eddie’s eyes went wide with fear, “I-I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Is this too much?”

“No! No, it’s just— I don’t want you to be disappointed.” A sad frown cast upon your face as you looked down to your hands.

“Disappointed? Baby I could never be disappointed by you. Please, let me show you how truly beautiful I think you are.” Eddie pleaded with you, his hands gliding softly up your arms until they reached your cheeks, gently cradling your face to meet his gaze.

You hesitated for a moment but you trust Eddie, and his earlier words echoed in the chambers of your mind reassuring your decision to trust him. “O-Okay, you can take it off.”

Gently Eddie pulled off your shirt and you instinctively wrapped your arms around your chest as to conceal yourself.

“Hey, don’t do that sweetheart, I want to see all of your beauty.” His gentle words resonated as he reached for your arms, slowly encouraging them away from the protective fortress of your chest.

“See, you’re gorgeous baby. Is it okay if I take this off?” He gestured to your lacy pink bra and you tentatively nodded.

The clasp of your bra broke free and Eddie took this chance to take the rest of it off, “Fuck.” He let out a hushed breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest. “So fucking perfect.” He muttered through sloppy kisses down your neck until he reached your breast. Without warning he took your nipple into his mouth and began swirling his tongue around it, earning a loud moan from you.

“Mmm, you sound so pretty baby.” Eddie groaned against your tits.

Through muffled moans you pushed Eddie off of your chest, “Eds, c-can you take your shirt off? I wanna see you too.” You practically begged.

Eddie grinned at your anticipation before throwing his shirt over his head and onto the floor. Your fingers ran across his exposed skin stopping to trace the tattoos adorning his chest. “You’re so pretty Eds.”

Immediately he closed the gap between you engulfing your lips into his with a hungry intent. Swiftly his hand slid into your shorts and found your clothed heat, he didn’t waste a minute before rubbing soft circles on your clit causing you to moan even more. “Eddie, please.” you plead against his lips.

“Shh princess, I wanna show you how pretty you are.” Before you could grasp any thoughts they were quickly swept away when he yanked down your shorts along with your panties earning a sultry gasp from your lips.

“Shit. You’re fucking unreal.” Eddie kneeled in front of you staring at you like a piece of art. He bent down planting tender kisses across the landscape of your stomach, continuing with equal devotion down to the curve of your hips. Delicate kisses lingered in the warmth between each thigh, “So, so beautiful.” He whispered with an unwavering devotion

You could feel your heat dripping in anticipation. In any other situation you would’ve halted any advance to get your shirt off, let alone your pants, but this was Eddie. Eddie, who was currently worshiping you as if you were a divine being.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good princess.” He uttered just before engulfing his face into your pussy. “Ahh, fuck Eddie!” you cried out between breathless moans, his tongue lapping at your clit like a starved animal.

“That feel good baby?” Eddie struggled to say with his mouth on your cunt.

“Fuck yes baby, keep going!” you shouted out in bliss.

A wave of confidence swept through him at the passionate sounds he was eliciting from you, compelling him to slip a finger into your entrance while he worked at your clit with his tongue.

Intense waves of pleasure began to consume your body as his fingers plunged in and out of your hole, finding yourself having no control you gripped onto Eddie’s hair, “I-I’m gonna, fuck I’m—

“Let go sweetheart, I’ve got you.” His words were enough to have your orgasm rushing through you as loud moans and Eddie’s name repeated like a mantra from your lips.

He quickly lapped up your juices, gazing at you with blown eyes before gently caressing his hands up and down the length of your legs. “Jesus, I love these gorgeous legs.” He uttered softly before trailing his hands up to your hips, delicately tracing them with the grace of his fingertips. “And these sexy hips.”

Before you knew it his hands were gliding up your stomach, ascending to your chest, only to stop with a gentle touch to your face. “Beautiful girl.” He whispered, allowing his thumb to tenderly stroke your cheek.

His sweet words stirred a spring of tears in your eyes, an irresistible surge of emotion that had you crashing your lips into his. Your lips worked in sync, tongues dancing in a fervent rhythm, creating a mess of wet kisses and the occasional collision of teeth.

“Eddie?” You pulled away from the kiss, “I want to feel you.”

Eddie could feel his cock angry against his jeans and he wanted nothing more than to give it to you and only you. He quickly jumped up, pulling his pants down along with his boxers before he reclaimed his position, settling once again atop you. In a breathy whisper, he spoke softly, his lips grazing yours, “You don’t have to tell me twice sweetheart.”

He took his cock in his hands and swiped it through your glistening folds a few times before slapping it against your clit. “Oohh, Eddie please.” You begged.

A content smile traced its way across his lips as he hovered above your entrance, leaning down to kiss you before sinking into your pussy. An audible gasp could be heard from your lips as his cock filled you up, “Fuck you’re so tight.” Eddie practically moaned into your mouth.

He was taking it slow, indulging in the warmth of your walls, but you reached a point where you couldn’t take it any longer. “Eddie fuck me, fuck me faster!” You practically yelled after parting your lips from his, and your legs wrapped around his back, a deliberate gesture to have him deeper inside of you.

Eddie reached his limit, unable to resit your desperate pleas for him, unable to resit the way your walls sucked him in. “Yeah? You want more?” He said, words laced with desire. You watched as he began to relentlessly thrust into you, the way his cock slid in out of your wet hole so easily had your head spinning, and his hands trailing all over your body earned more sinful moans from your mouth.

“Mmm, that’s it. You’re so fucking gorgeous Y/n.” He uttered before seizing your hips with a firm grip to draw you closer as he settled onto his knees, a new angle that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

With each rough thrust he skillfully targeted that sensitive spot you craved the most, you were seconds away from unraveling, that familiar euphoric wave rendering your brain with bliss and leaving you breathless. Your walls began clenching around him and he knew you were coming undone, “Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.”

As your orgasm washed over you, you were a moaning mess unable to stop yourself from the cries and disarray of words leaving your lips. “Ahhh! Fuck, oh fuck Eddie I love you!”

Eddie’s thrust we’re starting to get sloppy as his own orgasm was approaching, “Say that again.” He muttered, grabbing your chin with a gentle but firm touch ensuring you were looking at him.

“I love you Eddie.” You repeated for him, and Eddie’s hips rutted into yours roughly.

“Ohhh fuck Y/n, I love you so much!” He practically cried out, his lips latching onto yours as his cock twitched inside of you, his warm release spilling into your pussy.

Through breathless pants and sloppy kisses, Eddie laid you back down on the bed and slowly eased out of you. “Let me go get something to clean you up.” He told you before darting to your the bathroom.

When he came back, a fresh towel in hand, he couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked so fucked out against the pillows.

“I’m just gonna clean you up quick.” He said and in response you mindlessly nodded as he gently wiped away your mixtures of cum.

After tossing the towel into the hamper, he leaned down to grab his discarded clothes when you protested. “No don’t, lay with me?”

The warm smile upon his lips illuminated the room as he gracefully joined you in bed. You gently raised your head, resting it upon his chest, as he nestled below you. His arms instinctively wrapping around you, legs entwined, a profound sense of comfort and familiarity enveloped you both, as if this was the missing piece, the way you were always meant to be.

Eddie’s fingers gently threaded through you hair, almost sending you into a soothing slumber when his voice gently interrupted your sleepy state.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked your tired eyes glancing upward at him,“Hmm? Yeah sure.”

Eddie’s voice carried a delicate hesitation, “Did you really mean that? You know when you said—

“When I said I love you? Yeah, I meant it.” You interrupted before he could finish.

Emotion quietly unfolded in the depths of his gaze, a softness reflecting in his eyes at your words. “Good, because I did too.”

A broad smile crept across your cheeks as you leaned in sealing the connection with a kiss, a kiss filled with not only passion but the language of love.

As Eddie gently withdrew, his gaze lingered in a tender lock with your eyes, “One more question, can I be your boyfriend?”

A fluttering storm of butterflies danced within the confines of your stomach as a delightful giggle escaped you, “Yes. Yes, yes, 1000x yes!” The sheer excitement had you throwing yourself into his arms as he embraced you with an even firmer grip.

You knew with Eddie by your side, the shadows of doubt would never cast themselves upon you again.

[discocannon8002]

I thought of this and kind of wish it was reality for me (the good parts. The bad parts already exist somewhat for me.) so here you go have a very small little… story? Idk what it is. But it is angst with a good ending so be warned. None of these names are our real names.

Tw: sh, self loathing, medication, slight swearing, depression, suicidal mentioning, blood

“I’m pathetic.” the shaky voice that left my lips only seemed to prove my point.

In the bathroom and sitting on the floor. I can’t even sleep without meds, without talking to many of my meds. I never take more in a day than the Max on the bottle, so it’s not really overdosing, right? It doesn’t count, it shouldn’t, it can’t.

I look at the bruise in the strange place on my hand where I had striked myself multiple times. Probably more than one hundred times now.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath. As far as people know, I don’t swear. I shouldn’t swear; I can’t swear.

As far as people know I’m innocent. but in reality I’m far from it. This was never supposed to go this far, never supposed to leave marks. I thought I could stop on my own. I thought it didn’t count as self harm because it never caused marks or anything more than a slight headache. Never any blood or injuries, just pain.

Pain because I needed it. Pain because I deserved it. Pain because I needed to hit something, needed to get my anger out, and I didn’t want to hurt anything else so I hurt myself. That was all it started as, all this was supposed to be. It was supposed to go away with my depression, my depression was supposed to go away!

I’ve been taking my medicines!! I’ve been doing what I’m supposed to do, so why is it getting worse again? We got rid of the medicine that stopped working after seven years of making my life better, we got rid of the medicine that made me feel this way. I have the new medicine that helps with my newfound mood disorder. We got rid of my period because it always made me suicidal—always made it worse. We did it! We did all of it! Why can’t it just be better?!

why can’t I just be better, why can’t I do things right, why can’t I do history?! I do math so well, why do I have to be so bad at history? Whys can’t I be independent? Why do I always have to get others to help me instead of helping themselves?! Is this why Lily is so distant??

I tear up as my fists collide with my skull again. I should be better. I need to be better. Why am I not better? In the chaos, I knock the scissors off the counter, I grab them. I stare at them for a bit, and I wonder… what would it feel like? To make marks, to draw blood? What would it feel like, would I feel better, would the pain go away? I’ve already taken every anxiety medication prescribed to me tonight. I can’t do any more with medication. Just one little cut. I bring the blade towards my wrist.

“Bee?” A voice startles me out of it, I quickly bring the scissors behind my back as my head snaps up to the person who spoke, and my breath hitches. Lily.

No. No no no no no no no, she can’t know—this isn’t her responsibility, I’m supposed to take care of her! She’s my younger sister, I have to—to—I have to—

“Bee, come on, let me have the scissors, okay?” Her voice seems gentle, but it seems like a trick because her eyes are narrowed, is she upset? Did I make her angry again?

I hiss in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. I hadn’t realized how tight I was gripping the scissors. My shaky hands appear in front of me, I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. Blood.

My tight grip had caused the blades of the scissors to press into my skin. Two lines of blood could be made out through the red liquid streaming down my hand. But I do deserve it. I let Lily find me like this. I deserve it.

I feel the scissors being gently pried from my grip, but I don’t dare look up at her. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking, or feeling. I don’t want to see that look of anger or disappointment or annoyance. I’ve already seen it too many times on her face.

I hear a soft clatter, she’s probably put the scissors down. My gaze is still turned towards the ground, I see a sort of face being formed in the growing pool of thick red liquid in front of me.

“Bee? Can you look at me, please?” Her voice was unsteady, and right in front of me. What? But she was standing up, wasn’t she?

I hesitantly look up and am surprised to see her face just about in front of me, but still about a foot away. She’d crouched down in the time I was looking down. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but her eyes didn’t look angry. She looked almost worried.

“Bee…” she sighs, before bringing me in for a hug.

For a moment I’m frozen in shock. She never hugs me. But then I hug her back with the clean hand. And for a moment we stay that way, just two sisters, hugging. It should be the most normal thing in the world, but for somebody who doesn’t hug much… this hug meant she really cares. I sniffle through tears I didn’t know existed.

“let’s go upstairs, yeah? let’s… let’s get you cleaned up.” She whispers, sounding like she’s also crying, which is confirmed as she pulls away to help me up.

She did care. And I was not alone.

[andie01writing]

AlphaSmuts B - Bite

Bite – They can’t keep their teeth to themselves. 

Ft: Pete Dunne (cuz of course it's him)

            The commotion draws my attention across the room.  Multiple trainers try to restrain Pete Dunne.

  “Good luck with that,” I mutter, packing my bag.

  “Faith, are you going to help here?”

  “Nope.  I pick my fights and that is not one of them,” I smirk.  “I’m out.  Have a good night.”

  “Shari?  Shari!”

  “Just let him go.  He is not going to let you check him out anyway.”

  “That is not how we do things here!”

  “Once he calms down, he will come to me.  I’ll take care of him.  Let him go.”

  “Shari!  Get back here!”

  “See you later,” I call over my shoulder.

                     I lounge on my hotel bed, scrolling through my phone as I wait.  I don’t know why Pete trusts me so much to show his vulnerability while hurt but I definitely know why he chose me for his pain.  Banging on the hotel door cuts my thoughts short.  Making my way to the door, I don’t even check as I open the door.  Pete steps in wordlessly, his hair down and hiding his face.

  “Finally ready to admit you have a boo-boo, Pete,” I smirk.

He glares through his hair at me.

  “You know the drill,” I wave him towards the bathroom and my kit laid out and waiting.  “So what’s wrong tonight.”

He holds his hand up, the hand swollen from his middle finger to pinky and down to his wrist.

  “Wrist, hand, or fingers?”

  “Fingas,” he grunts as I gently probe along his hand.

Turning on my ring light, I study his fingers.  None seem to be dislocated.  “Someone turned your own trick on you,” I smirk.

  “Somethin’ like that,” he sighs, moving to stand behind me, his free hand going to my hip.  His forehead pressing against the back of my skull, breathing deeply.  I pause, waiting to see what he was going to do.  When he doesn’t make any further moves I continue my examination.

  “Stupid question; are you willing to get this x-rayed?”

He shakes his head.

  “Can you move everything?”

He grunts slightly but rotates his wrist and wiggles all five fingers, though the final three’s movement was slightly more limited.

I press along his hand testing the swelling and he inhales sharply.  Moving closer, I feel a hard ridge brush against my ass.

  “There it is,” I think.  “The real reason I am the only one allowed to treat him.  I am the only one he wants to fuck”.  Something about the pain exacerbating his arousal, this whole dance started months ago.

  “Shar?”  Pete’s breath fanning across the back of my neck.  I realize that I had stopped moving, just holding the man’s hand in mine and staring.

  “Is it all three or is the swelling radiating from one of them,” I sigh, digging through the kit.

  “Third finga started swelling and the rest followed.”

  “Take anything?”

  “Bout two ‘ours ago,” he mumbles, his face sliding downward.

  “I’m assuming you iced it.”

  “Yeah.”  His lips brush against my neck.

  “If you want this done right and to last I would hold that thought,” I smirk, my body already reacting to the man.

  “Really,” he chuckles, pulling my body tighter to his with the grip on my hip.

  “Really,” I try to maintain a composed demeanor as thoughts of his plans flash through my mind.  Holding up the medical tape, I stare over my shoulder at him in the mirror.  “Do you want this done right or fast and sloppy?”

He rests his chin on my shoulder, motioning for me to continue with his uninjured hand.

I set to work buddy taping his injured finger to the one next to it.  “Done,” I state as I make sure the finger is stable and secure.

He hums turning to bury himself against my neck. 

I tense knowing what is coming.

He chuckles, mouthing over my pulse but no teeth.  “Why so tense?”

  “Just bracing for what is coming.”

  “Do ya not like what’s comin’?”

  “You know I do,” I sigh, leaning back into the man as my eyes close.  “Just don’t like being taken by…” I yelp as teeth pinch my skin.  “Fucker,” I growl, reaching back to thread my fingers through his hair.

He shrugs banding the arm of his injured hand across my shoulders as his other pins my hips to his.  I groan at the feel him nestled against me.  The need to have him deep inside of me overwhelming my senses.  He mouth continue to nip lightly along the side of my throat.

  “Pete, please,” I pant unsure of what I’m asking for.

  “Hmmmm,” he hums, hand working its way under my panties and against me.

Lowering my mouth, I sink my teeth into the skin of his forearm to hold the groan at bay, my hips rocking back against him on their own accord.  It takes several seconds to realize Pete has stopped moving entirely.  Opening my eyes I find him in the mirror.  He’s staring at my mouth around him.

  “You can give but you can’t take,” I smirk releasing him.  “Maybe…” I cut off as his injured hand comes up to wrap in my hair, yanking my head backwards.  His other hand leaving my panties.  “Playtime over,” I ask innocently.  “Just because I can get as mouthy as you.”

A brief smirk crosses his face before spinning me, his mouth crashing into mine.  I groan, hoisting myself up onto the counter.  Breaking away he steps back slightly and yanking his shirt over his head.  “Doit again,” he orders before attacking my throat again.

I sink my teeth into his deltoid muscle, holding before laving my tongue over the mark and repeating.  His hands fist my sleep shirt.

  “Want my shirt off, Pete,” I sigh against his ear, rubbing him through his shorts.  “Or maybe my panties so you can fuck me while you leave all the bite marks you want on my body.  You know I’ll let you do it.  Always have,” I groan as he bites along the junction between my neck and shoulder.  Unable to move my head again, I press my thumb against a bite mark on his shoulder.  He groans deeply sending vibrations through my chest adding to my arousal without even trying.

  “Everythin’ off…now.”

He moves only long enough for my shirt to disappear before he attacks my torso.

  “Fuck,” I groan as his lips wrap around my nipple.  My hands fumbling to yank my underwear down.

His uninjured hand moves to run two fingers through my slit, humming at what he finds.  He raises his head to grin at me and I attack his mouth, nipping at his lips before releasing him.  “Do it.  Please.”

His head drops biting along the top of my breast, his fingers breaching me and curling.  “Fuck.  Yes.  More.  More.  Please,” I beg, arching up against him.

He obliges repeating his action on my chest as his fingers fuck me, his thumb joining to rub against my clit.  “Yes.  Yes. Yes,” I keen, groping blindly for him.  Giving up on his cock, I grab his shoulder, fingers digging into multiple marks there.

He tosses his head back groaning, a smile on his face.  “Fuck.  Gonna make me cum before I’m even in ya.”

His voice is so rough with pleasure I almost didn’t recognize it.

  “Need ya to cum for me, Shar.  Let me feel ya.  Then I’ll really fuck ya.”

Grabbing a handful of hair I pull his mouth back to me, moments later my release washes over me.  He peppers kisses along my throat as he continues until my body goes slack beneath him.

Yanking me from the counter he carries me one armed to the bed.  Dropping me to the mattress, he shimmies out of his shorts.

  “Nuh uh,” I smirk as he kneels between my legs.  “Not risking you hurting that hand.  You on the bed.”

  “But…”

  “Bed.”

He settles onto his back, and I straddle his hips.

  “Good.” I smirk, sinking slowly down his cock.  “You want me to…”

He is nodding before I finish the sentence.  My teeth sink into his pec and his hips slamming up into me further.  I chuckle against his skin before continuing my rhythm is slow but Pete fucks up into me with each new bite, his thumb slides between us and against my clit.

  “Fuck,” I moan, my tongue lashing over a bite mark.  “So good to me.”  Arching back I fuck myself down on him faster.  Pete urges me faster, baring his teeth in a satisfied grin when I start playing with my breasts, my thumbs sliding over my nipples roughly.  Sitting up he swats my hands away, his mouth and hand taking over, the rhythm of our hips never slowing.  “Fuck Pete.  Gonna come again.”

“Gonna come all over me? Soak my cock. Do it.”  His teeth nipping at my nipple is all the push I need as I come undone, my hips thrashing sloppily along his cock.

Slumping listlessly against him, I allow him to fuck through my orgasm.  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Pete.  I fucking think I love you.”  Burying my face against his neck, I bite down hard.  The growl Pete releases vibrates my whole body as he stills.  His hand fisting my hair and holding me to his neck as his cock twitches and fills me.  Finally, he releases his hold, allowing me to slide to the mattress beside him.  Slumping back against the pillows beside me, he studies my face.”

  “Pete, I…”

He presses a finger to my lips as he scans my throat and chest.  Finally leaning over me, he presses a soft kiss to my lips.  “I love ya, too Shari.  I’m surprised ya didn’t figure that already.  Even I can’ get hurt that often.”

  “Does that mean,” I start, tracing the bite mark on his chest, “that I don’t have to wait weeks for this again?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” he smirks, tucking me into his side.

[strikingamatch]

[CLICK]

SYDNEY

Hello.

It’s… later than usual, I know. Or maybe earlier. Time hasn’t been the same recently… the ticks and tocks have become muddled and sticky, and every numb day seem to last longer than the last. I suppose that should be concerning to me, but I can’t be bothered to be worried.

I can’t be bothered to do much at all, I think. Not like I used to, anyway. Not like I ever will in the future.

I don’t know.

I’m supposed to be sleeping right now. Jedidiah is in our room. I assume he’s either waiting for me or asleep, in which case both scenarios would be alright I guess.

I try to wait for him whenever I’m in bed before him. I like to make sure he sleeps after all… but lately he’s been staying up all night and into the early hours of the day. At this point he’s going to turn nocturnal! And he said I was the vampire because I was goth.

I dont have much to say tonight, if I’m being honest. All the same… I cant bring myself to end the recording. I suppose maybe there’s something I’m supposed to say that hasn’t alighted on my tongue just yet.

Hm.

[BEAT]

The pain is back.

I dont know why I’m surprised, really. It’s just that… that pulsing. And its nothing new, I mean, when am I not in pain but this feels different somehow. It grows and shrinks along with my heartbeat, following the rhythmic patterns of the organ.

It always starts in my wrist, running through my body until it reaches my ankles. It doesnt affect my back, or maybe I just don’t notice because of the spasms.

I’m not sure.

[HE SIGHS]

Ghost recorder…

I’m so tired.

And, hell, I’m tired more often than I’m in pain but its not like that either. I dont know how to describe it. I’m just so tired, emotionally and physically and theres nothing I can do about it.

Oh well.

I’m not sure.

[BEAT]

Hey… you know last night? When I said I was going to draw a bit before my hand gets too cramped?

I have this sketchbook. It has a leather cover and handmade pages. There was a bug on the third one. Trapped in the paper… you could feel its ridges and wings but not take it out. I didn’t want to take it out.

I dont think it would have wanted me to.

After all, its not its fault that it was trapped in a paper jail. It was alive before. It must have landed on the paper, thinking it just a resting place while the wood pulp slowly dried, trying to escape but finding itself unable to take flight.

It must have been so scared.

Maybe because my own autonomy and control is so important to me, but I can emphasize with the little fly.

Its easy to take root someplace you think is safe. Someplace you think you cant be hurt, where you’ll be kept in comfort, whether that be a city, a house, or a heart.

But nowhere is ever safe. I’ve learned that by now. There will never be a place that is well and truly safe.

[BEAT]

I wonder if that fly landed on the paper knowing it was dangerous. Knowing that it wouldnt survive the night, but enjoying the safety for those last few hours.

[BEAT]

I broke the bug.

When I was drawing, I mean.

Tried to shade over it, and some of its thorax and abdomen came off, out of the page. I brushed it aside along with eraser shavings.

I hope it will forgive me.

[BEAT]

Hm.

[BEAT]

Jeddie’s in the room right now... I should probably go join him before he gets too worried. If he’s even awake.

Realistically, I doubt he gets worried. But I like to imagine someone gets worried about me. Does that make sense?

Well. At any rate.

Good night, ghost recorder. Sleep tight. I’ll speak with you again tomorrow.

[aconstructofamind]

Snippet Sunday

This is something that has been in my WIP folder for a few months. I've been replaying Fallout, and this has be haunting me. So, I' m posting a snippet of it, to see if this fic is even worth posting later.

Warnings: mild flirting and cursing. Let me know if I should any other warnings for the snippet.

“God damn it,” Parker purred, pulling her fingers from her lips. “Won’t be doing that again… hopefully.”

        Black scorches seared her fingertips, leaving angry red blemishes behind. Two hundred years ago, her fingers would have been soft and well-manicured, with a baby being rocked. Now, they were rough, cut up, callused from the hard work she’s done. The thought stung, the gentle ache reminding her of all she lost, and how she hadn’t had much time to search. Between doing missions for the others, and desperately trying to survive, Shawn has slipped through the cracks.

“Need help sweetheart.”

       Sturges’s smooth accent echoed through the early evening painted room, a chuckle dancing in his words. Tonight, wouldn’t have a radiation storm, having a sunset of pinks and yellows, rather than the eerie neon green. Parker half jumped, not expecting him to check up on her, the sudden jolt cracking her wrist against the small generator’s corner.

“Sh-…it, don’t sneak up on me like that.” She pouted indignantly, now cradling her throbbing wrist.

“Sorry for the spook.” He breathed, leaning against the door jam. “It’s getting late, so I thought you might need a hand.”

       The intense need to laugh sarcastically at his statement tore at her throat, all the while her fingers searched for any breaks. Despite the numbing throb that radiated from the red skin, nothing felt out of place. Diamond City seemed too far to go with a broken wrist, and Parker honestly just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a few hours. Warm fingers pulled slightly at her elbow, drawing the injured body part towards the male she hadn’t notice move.

“I know electrical work is tricky,” Sturges hummed, his fingers moving her hand around as the others searching for any irregularities. “And I do appreciate all the work you’ve offered me; however, you can always say no sweetheart.”

His brow drew together, as if contemplating something. Parker couldn’t stop considering he was rethinking allowing her to help rebuild Sanctuary Hills. With most things Parker found herself to be a quick study. Farming, great. Building furniture, near perfection. Though Codsworth’s previous assessment of radiation staining everything had more than proven itself, she did manage to make the homes comfortable. All distracting thoughts stopped when Sturges pressed the puffy red skin against his lips, the action tinting her sun kissed flesh pink.

“You’ll be fine, just avoid straining it for the next few days. You oughta be careful. I can fix most things, but people don't fix so easily.” He responded calmly, eyes avoiding her curious stare. “It wouldn’t hurt if you took a few days for yourself, neither.”

“Sanctuary Hill has tripled in population; you can’t do everything by yourself.” Parker grunted, slowly pulling her appendage back. “I have this place defended like Fort Knox, and all Preston does is run around like we’ll be attacked any moment now.”

“Preston isn’t good at relaxing, he knows we’re well protected, but this has been his dream for a long time.”

“Being king?”

“Being safe.” Sturges smiled, the sides of his eyes crinkling with the action as his finger grazing the side of Parker’s hands. “You’ve done that for us, and he doesn’t want to let you down. None of us do.”

       Guilt choked away at Parkers throat, she tried not to speak about her frustration with Preston to others, let alone with Sturges. The handyman had a point, she’d been asleep for two hundred years, not having grown up suffering from the nuclear fallout until now. She knew what it was like to sleep with no fear for her safety for most of her life, and with that privilege she found it so easy to criticize others. More heat radiated from her cheeks, as she looked away from Sturges’ brown eyes.

“I need to find my son Sturge.” She finally breathed; a months’ worth of tears welling up in her eyes. “I’ve been awake for months, and have made no progress in my…”

       Her words died off, having not told Sturges everything about her background in the long night conversations they’ve shared. Somehow the idea of telling him about her husband seemed so, awkward. After all, he had to know she had sexual relations with a man to have Shawn. Sturges sighed, empathy dancing across his features as he pulled her into his arms. The smell of grime and sweat, with the scent unique to her, caressed his senses as his lips gently kissed at her temples. He’d known she’d been quietly suffering, by the way she took a moment to take a calming breath when anyone asked her for help.

“I know sweetheart, we’ll find your boy.” He breathed, resting his cheek onto her auburn hair. “Just give us enough time to prepare. Eventually we’ll be able to communicate with other groups without leaving our town. If there are reports, I’ll be the first to go out with you.”

“That could be years from now.” She half sobbed.

       Sturges refrained from snorting, though he knew right now she couldn’t think past the emotions, the dramatization nearly had him rolling his eyes. “With your help, we’ll make it in another month or so. Don’t despair.”  He whispered, his lips dragging lightly against the curve of her ear. “Go shower, and I’ll finish here.”

“Like hell you will.” She breathed angrily through the tears. “You sent me to do a job, and I’ll do it. Just talk me through it ok?”

“Fine.”

       The deep baritone danced through the quiet area, as her fingers worked with his directions. Her singed fingers ached, though didn’t bother her after a few minutes. Having his words recounting her actions, Parker avoided any more shocking situations. She finished, after wrapping a healthy amount of electrical tape around the wires with a great sigh. After two hours of working, her shoulders, arms, and neck hurt from remaining in one position the whole time.

“I don’t know how you do it.” She whimpered breathlessly, hands wiping away the sweat on her neck.

              Early summer was hell, a heatwave not covering how insanely humid and hot it got during the days. The nights tended to be better, though the inhabitants still had a thin sheen of sweat dancing across their tender dermis. Parker hummed, drawing her fingers down her neck, and swiping away stray beads of sweat from the tops of the exposed parts of her breast. The dark green wife beater didn’t hide much, hugging every curve she had, and starting quite low on her breast.

“Sturges, how about I feed you?” She hummed, expanding the small shirt for some air flow. “It’s the least I can do for your help.”

“I’ll clean-up here.” Sturges smiled, starting to pick up the tools. “When I’m done, I’ll join you.”

“Make sure you shower.” Parker chuckled, lightly touching the smudges of oil on his cheeks. “I sure as hell will take one.”

       The quite wink drew Sturges attention to her eyes, taking in the quiet yearning in them. Parker had fallen apart in front of him nearly two hours ago, and the sorrow still saturated her features, despite the smile and light flirtations.

“You might want to have a cold one.”

“A cold shower would only be necessary if I invited you.” She half purred, disappearing behind the decaying walls of the house.

[navybrat817]

i was just thinking about nick fowler and what would happen if you overstimualated him . Like we know he's an insatiable man so he has already made you come once and now you're riding him , you both come together again but you just.... don't stop... you just keep riding and riding him and whisper in his ear " im not gonna stop until you come again " and even though he is controlling in the bedroom , hes still shivering and shaking and writhing because we all know men are SUPER SENSITIVE after coming and I just keep imagining this big scary man shaking from how good it hurts and now i need a glass of water

This gave me Ace and Tigress vibes, nonnie! Should we consider this Wet Wednesday? And it was a long day, so I hope I did this justice.

Give It to Me

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: One is never enough for Nick, so why not return the favor? Word Count: Over 950 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive behavior, slight D/S behavior, some overstimulation, dirty talk, brief feels with the porn (it’s me), Nick Fowler (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Shocker, lovelies. It's more Nick Fowler. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @vase-of-lilies. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Nick didn't like relinquishing control. Call it trust issues or his ego, but he always expected people to play by his rules.

You were the only person he ever considered letting go for. He cared enough about you, at least, to give you that.

You cared about him, too. That feeling wouldn't go away.

And you made Nick feel good. You knew how he liked to fuck and be fucked.

But even as he lay underneath you, your hands resting on his bare thighs as you rode him, he still refused to give power over to you completely tonight.

"You're gonna fuck yourself on my cock until you come all over it. Make me feel how good it is for you."

You gasped when he pinched one of your nipples, your breasts bouncing as he lifted his hips to meet yours. You made it a point to wear low cut shirts around him whenever you could since he liked the view so much.

“Then fucking come with me,” you whined. And, yes, it was a whine since you already came once and he insisted on drawing it out.

Because wrecking your cunt once is never enough for Nick Fowler.

“My dick isn’t soaked, so don’t fucking stop,” he ordered, smirking as he lifted his thumb to his mouth to lick it. The smug look remained on his handsome face as he brought it between your bodies.

“I don’t need your help, Ace,” you moaned, tempted to smack his hand away as he put pressure against the sensitive bud. You were supposed to be in control.

"Put your claws away, Tigress. We both know you aren't that tough when you're stuffed with my cock."

“Fuck!” you cried, arching your back as you kept grinding down. “Nick, please!”

“Greedy pussy really can’t get enough, can it?” he taunted, his blue eyes raking over your now trembling body as you got closer to the edge. "We both know you were born to ride my dick like this. So show me you're mine.”

The only response you could give was the feel of your wet walls gripping him like a vice, your release nearly flowing out of you like a wave.

“Trying to drown me, fuck,” he groaned before he flooded your quivering heat. "Good girl."

But you didn’t stop riding it out, even when you felt his muscular frame shiver beneath yours. Not even when he squeezed your hips to stop you.

“I’m not done,” you exhaled shakily, pleasure taking over your senses.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his cock still hard inside you when your hands flew to his wrists. “What the fuck?” he whispered in awe when you found the strength to tear them away from your body.

“Need to come again,” you mumbled, your pupils blown with lust as you leaned down and pinned his hands over his head.

He said something you couldn’t make out as you brought your mouth to his ear, his chest warm against yours.

"I'm not gonna stop until you come again,” you told him.

You're not the only demanding lover. If one isn’t enough for you, it doesn’t have to be enough for me.

“You want me to, fuck, come again?” he asked incredulously, flexing his muscles beneath you to show he could push you off if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

You don't have to ask, Nick. Give me that control. Trust me.

“What’s wrong, Ace?” you teased as you dragged your mouth down his neck, making him growl. “You said to fuck myself on your cock until I come."

"And you did," he pointed out, his body beginning to writhe as you didn't slow your pace. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"You always demand more from me," you reminded him. "Didn't you say my pussy was greedy? Well, it needs to be filled again."

You sank your teeth in a little before he could respond, his cock twitching inside your dripping channel as you kissed the sting away. Maybe it hurt, but you knew he craved a bit of pain.

“Jesus fuck!” he groaned as you clenched harder around him, like you were trying to milk him dry.

“If my pussy is yours, then your cock is mine. Paint my walls and I’ll soak you again. Give it to me, Nick. Give. Me. One. More.”

He moaned as you rocked your hips faster, both of you were trembling as you chased your end. You had to sit up to take in the sight of him.

His cheeks were flushed, skin damp with sweat, unable to hold back his whines as he bit his bottom lip.

Ruined and owned. That's my new favorite look on you, Nick.

“That’s it,” you moaned when his eyes rolled back, his thighs tensing as he whimpered and thrust up. “Say my name when you come."

Even as he filled you again, even as your thighs burned, you kept going.

Your mixed release trickled out of you as you let go of his wrists, but he didn't stop you or flip you over. He truly gave you control.

You smiled as finally slowed your movements to lean down and kiss him, the scruff on his jaw scraping your palms as you smothered his remaining moans.

He gasped for air as you sat back before he smiled. He was thanking you without saying it.

I'll always give you what you need, Nick.

"You really are a greedy girl," he panted, pushing the soft moment to the back of your mind.

"And I thought you wanted your dick soaked, Ace. Don't tell me you're tapping out."

His hand shot up to your neck, giving it a light squeeze when you smirked. “Not until you give me one more.”

*****

We'll see Nick again soon, lovelies. Love and thanks!

[harksness]

Wrapped Up

Kiktober/Hoevember Day 5

A/N: I was so obsessed with this prompt I got carried away. I just... see Wanda as being really afraid of using her powers anywhere near her gf because she's so scared of hurting her I JUST HAD TO MAKE IT SOFT. I also hope the length makes up for my inconsistent uploads, school has me fucked up haha :,)

Also,, this gave me inspiration for another nsfw Wanda x reader fic kinda like this one.. but I wanna see how people like this first and if yall want more. I was a bit self conscious writing it ngl soooo lmk what yall think and if youd be interested in more fics similar to this !! “Similar to this” meaning smutty fics involving hot marvel women using their powers during the sexy times of course. (Okay I should also clarify WITHIN REASON, I have a comfort zone and I draw the line at a giantess fic with Hope or something like that asfsdgj)

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Smut! Bondage, magic used to restrain reader, magical dick, also soft sex. 

“You’re.. Sure you’re comfortable with this?”

Wanda asks, her eyes flickering over your naked form nervously. You nod your head.

“Yes, my love, I promise I’m comfortable.”

You give her a reassuring smile. She relaxes for a moment as she raises her hands, a soft red hue igniting in her palms before being abruptly stomped out.

“Are you sure? What if I hurt you, or-”

You cut her off by taking her face in your hands, your thumbs affectionately tracing over her cheeks as you force her worried eyes to meet your gaze.

“You won’t hurt me, Wanda.. I trust you completely.”

The words are soft as you press your forehead against hers. She lets out a nervous sigh.

“Start simple, take baby steps. Only do what you’re comfortable with tonight, and if you want to stop at any point just stop. Okay?”

Wanda smiles at you, her eyes so full of love it looks like it just might pour out of her as she laughs softly, grabbing your hands.

“I feel like I should be the one telling you that.”

You return her smile, her fingers fiddling with yours. She has a fixation with your hands and fingers. The redhead seems to find comfort in playing with them, and it makes your heart melt every time she reaches for your hands. 

“Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Her words are soft and small. Your heart aches with love for her.

“You don’t need to thank me, Wanda.. I understand. I love you.”

She leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.”

She mutters, her lips ghosting against yours as she speaks. And in a second it changes, her palms igniting with that familiar red glow as her magic winds out in whimsical red ribbons, moving slowly, almost cautiously as she manipulates them. Your heart leaps in your throat at the sight.

Her fingers dance as she guides the magic around your limbs. First your ankles, binding your legs tightly together in vibrant red chains before moving to your wrists. You can’t control your movements as your arms slowly wind behind your back, guided by her powers, and once again you feel the familiar tickle of her magic binding your arms together once they’re positioned where she wants them.

You test the restraints, softly pulling at them. They’re much more comfortable than any rope or handcuffs, allowing your skin to breathe and circulation to continue through your body. No uncomfortable material that will rub your wrists raw, either, it just feels like a strange pressure holding you together.

Your girlfriend winds her hands and uses her magic to guide you so that you’re laying back on the bed, your arms bound and folded beneath your back. Your head is propped up on a pillow, and you crane your neck to look down at her.

She sits at the foot of the bed, and traces her index finger over the bindings around your ankles before her gaze flickers up to meet yours.

“Comfortable?”

You nod your head eagerly. Wanda smiles suggestively from where she’s eyeing you at the end of the bed, obviously just as excited as you are. 

“Alright, then, let’s get started.. Nice and slow..”

Her words are breathy and eager, but she whispers the last part of the sentence to herself as if she’s using it for her own comfort. As her own reminder.

You’ll just have to show her that you’re okay. That you’re safe with her.

Wanda moves so that she’s hovering over you. You feel breathless as you admire her, her vibrant copper hair hanging over one shoulder in messy waves. The witch watches you with thoughtful eyes, thinking through all of the things she plans on doing to you. Her lips are slightly parted and your eyes catch on them, eager to have her mouth on you. Anywhere. Her lips are so soft and your skin burns in anticipation, missing the addicting feel of them.

You swallow hard when your eyes slowly trail down her body, the silken red robe she has loosely tied around her waist hanging open and revealing her chest to you. You don’t even try to hide the fact that you’re admiring her, getting a peek of the red lace she’s wearing under that robe as you losing your mind already.

“My darling looks so pretty all wrapped up in my magic…”

Wanda coos, a confident smirk overtaking her lips. She pauses for a moment, studying your features before wrapping her fingers around your jaw. Her nails softly bite into your skin as she tilts your head towards her, her lips melding with yours in a sweet kiss.

It’s deep and you can feel her desire in every little movement. Her hand slides down your throat and across your chest, taking her time to run her hand along your skin and enjoy the feeling of you beneath her fingers. You hope she doesn’t pick up on your heart pounding, or how eagerly your chest rises and falls with every breath. You quickly surrender control to Wanda as she deepens the kiss, slowly tracing her tongue along yours as her hand continues to trace over your body.

You’re melting beneath her.

Wanda moves her hand and braces herself against the bed, determined to keep kissing you as she shifts her weight and moves so that she’s properly straddling your hips. But right after she finds herself comfortable in the new position, she pulls away completely. You desperately try to chase after her, craning your neck until you can’t move anymore. You pout, missing the feeling of her kisses. Wanda mimics your pout as she trails her hands down your chest.

“Don’t worry, my love.. I’m not going far.”

Her bright eyes follow the trail of her hands as they venture back up your chest, a thoughtful expression carved into her stunning features. She looks as if she’s trying to decide just what to do with you. You bite back an irritated groan, so impatient.

“How should I start?”

Wanda asks, an eager bite to her voice. Your first suggestion is for her to take off that damn robe so you can properly admire her. You swallow hard, torn between answering her question honestly and telling her that you’re happy with whatever she wants. After a brief internal debate you decide on the latter of the two options.

“I’m happy with whatever you want.”

You can see the gears turning in her head as she thinks about what to do. Your gaze eagerly follows her movement as Wanda’s nimble fingers go to untie the knot around her waist. Your head perks up eagerly, your eyes immediately drinking in her newly exposed skin as she slides the soft fabric from her shoulders. Your jaw drops at the sight as she holds the robe between her fingers and discards it off of the side of the bed.

No matter how long the two of you have been together, no matter how many times she surprises you like this- she always amazes you. You’re always stunned by her beauty.

She’s cald in flowery red lace, tightly hugging her figure and accenting all of her curves. You’re itching to run your hands along her and feel the softness of her body under the lace, your gaze eagerly absorbing every little detail. Especially the lacy fringe that hangs off of the top of her bra and draws attention to her breasts, cutting in a low v and revealing the swell of her soft chest to you. How the teddy rises high and over her hips, revealing more of her soft skin that you crave to run your hands over..

She’s angelic. Your mouth is practically watering at the sight of her.

Wanda sighs dramatically, and your excitement is replaced with dread when you become aware of her tone.

“Since you don’t have any suggestions, I guess I will just have to do whatever I want.”

Wanda uses your own words against you as she spreads her knees further apart so that her center is flush against your lower abdomen. You swallow hard, your eyes widening as realization dawns upon you.

“Wanda, please-”

She cuts off your pleas by rolling her hips against you, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. You watch her eagerly as she slides her hands up her chest, running them over her breasts as she rolls her hips against you once again.

You let out a frustrated groan as she begins to toy with her chest. She softly paws at her breasts and you watch eagerly as the soft mounds squish between her fingers, eager to be the one touching her and giving her pleasure. You whimper pathetically, using your bound arms underneath your back as leverage to raise your hips, to try and give her some sort of friction. Immediately she shoots you a scolding look.

“No.. You said I could do whatever I want. Well, I want to toy with you..”

She mutters, pausing her movements as she carefully summons her magic once again. You feel the pressure on top of you, pressing you back down into the mattress. You can’t move under her, completely still and trapped under the force of her powers.

“Wanda-”

You try to catch her attention and bargain with her, but immediately she has her mind set back on her original goal.

Again, she cuts you off. She grinds her hips against you, really making a show of it this time as she throws her head back and lets out a soft moan. You watch each movement of her hips eagerly, your mind fixated on the thought of her sitting on your face and rolling her hips like that down onto your mouth. She continues to toy with her chest.

Wanda hums in pleasure, and the look she gives you when she snaps her head back down to meet your gaze has a noise of desperation leaving your lips. Narrowed, half lidded eyes and lips parted in pleasure as she drinks in your desperate features.

She’s basically dry humping you at this point, desperately rolling her hips against your abdomen. You can feel how wet she’s growing through the lace with every drag of her cunt against your skin, your mind becoming fuzzy with the desperation to taste her.

“Please-”

Wanda perks up her head this time.

“Oh? Do you have a suggestion now?”

You nod eagerly as she continues her movements, her hands sliding lower, tracing over the vibrant red lace hugging her stomach. You know where she’s going with this and you’re desperate to put a stop to it. 

“If I like it enough, maybe, just maybe.. I’ll consider it.”

She smirks. You’re becoming frantic, desperate to get her to listen to you.

“Please, please sit on my face, Wanda.. I want to taste you.. Wanna make you feel good, please..”

You babble, throwing your head back against the pillow as you squirm underneath her. There’s a pause as you wait for a response, and you need to stop yourself from pulling at your restraints. You know she’ll feel it, and you don’t want to risk getting into trouble. You’re already on thin ice. But then she moves, your heart jumping in anticipation as you wiggle your fingers anxiously against your back and the plush mattress beneath you.

“Since you begged like a good girl, I’ll give you what you want.”

You sigh in relief, her praise making you fight the urge to rub your thighs together. 

“Thank you..”

You trail off, slightly disappointed when she gets off of the bed. She stands next to you, and again, her palms ignite with that vibrant red glow. 

You can see how cautious she is whenever she uses her powers around you. The careful concentration on her features, and how slowly she summons it, watching it flicker and grow in her palms slower than when you see the Scarlet Witch fighting on tv. Then, she even more cautiously will wrap you in it, testing the waters before properly using her magic on you the way she intended. She slides you down the bed, just a bit, and you can tell she’s holding her breath the whole time.

She smiles down at you after she’s finished readjusting you, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return her smile.

“Are you ready? Is everything okay?”

Wanda cups your cheek affectionately, her smile falling into a worried one. You can see her excitement, though- and she’s growing more eager and confident.

“Everything is amazing.. It would be a lot better though if I could make you feel good…”

You purr suggestively, and your girlfriend laughs softly at your words.

“So impatient..”

Wanda grips the headboard as she moves onto the bed, carefully placing her knees on either side of your head. You look up at her, and again the urge to run your hands along her body and feel her is suffocating. You tilt your head to the side and pepper kisses across her thighs, desperate to relieve your ache for her in any way that you can manage.

She reaches down and moves the lace of the lingerie aside before lowering her hips. You’re craning your neck to meet her, and as impatient as ever, you immediately press your mouth to her center and run your tongue through her folds. She’s so soft and wet and warm, you’re addicted. You would live under her like this if you could, just laving our tongue through her and savoring the comforting feeling of her soft folds in your mouth.

The redhead lets out a surprised gasp above you, gripping the headboard for balance as she softly rolls her hips against your mouth.

“So very impatient indeed..”

Wanda speaks breathily, a playful smirk on her lips when she looks down at you. You hold her gaze as you gather her wetness on your tongue, enjoying the bitter taste of her before moving to softly suck on her clit. She throws her head back, her eyes rolling shut. You moan into her as she presses down against your face, tracing your tongue through her folds a few more times before you begin to softly tease at her entrance. 

The noises she makes are music to your ears. Soft gasps and breathy, quiet noises that make your desperation to please her return tenfold. 

You press your mouth up into her, rolling your tongue into her entrance. She’s so wet and she tastes so good, her love already starting to wet your chin and cheeks. You’re in heaven underneath her with her soft thighs wrapped around your head. She lets out a breathy moan, and you sway your head back and forth.

“Mmm… You look so good under me like this, my darling..”

Wanda moans the words out, knotting one hand into your hair. Your arms are starting to feel a bit tingly under your weight but you don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is pleasing Wanda.

You moan into her, doubling your efforts. She’s rolling her hips down and onto your tongue in time with your movements, your neck feels sore from how hard you’re trying to please her. Unconsciously, you start rubbing your thighs together. It’s all so much- how amazing Wanda looks on top of you, her angelic noises and how divine she tastes. It’s all making that ache between your legs grow unbearable.

She looks down at you once again, wavy red locks framing her face like a curtain as she smirks. She weaves her fingers into your hair as she unashamedly rides your face, grinding her cunt down on to your mouth and seeking out more friction to help build her pleasure. That only has you more desperately rubbing your thighs. You want to see her fall apart, you want her to use you.

“Such a pretty thing..”

Wanda mutters, and your heart melts at her words. You crane your neck forward and desperately try to push her over the edge. She moans, soft and desperate as you slide your tongue into her tight cunt.

“I’m close..”

Her words are breathy and frantic, and you’re struggling to breathe a bit. But you shove that aside and focus on trying to get her to fall apart. You focus on Wanda, on how she’s fucking your face and riding your tongue like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. She lets out a high pitch moan, her back arching as she bucks her hips against your face and rides out her high. Her thighs tense around your head and you guide her through her orgasm, continuing to lick and suck at her fluttering cunt.

You groan below her, the noise muffled. You’re aware that you’re rubbing your thighs together at this point, but you can’t seem to stop, so desperate for some sort of relief. But the enjoyment of watching Wanda writhe in pleasure is quickly snatched away from you, you feel your legs abruptly being pulled apart, your eyes widening in surprise as she sends a disappointed look your way.

“Naughty..”

Wanda scolds breathlessly as she moves off of you, situating herself next to you on the bed. You whimper sadly, missing the feeling of her wrapped around your head.

She guides you so that you’re sitting up. You hadn't realized just how your arms had been affected until you got relief, they're prickled with sleep and a bit numb. You wiggle your fingers, hoping to shake the feeling back into them. Your girlfriend takes note of this, a worried look crossing her features as she releases your arms from the bindings.

“Are you okay?”

The redhead grabs one of your arms, softly massaging your palm and forearm while you shake out the other. You smile softly at her, her consideration making your heart melt with love.

“I’m fine! My arms just started to fall asleep, is all.. You can tie me up again in a second..”

Relief floods her features as you respond, slightly out of breath.

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want, or I can bind you another way.”

Wanda looks more confident now. A cautious kind of confident, as if she knows what she wants and will do it, but her concern for your wellbeing and the immense amount of power that she literally has at her fingertips is in the front of her mind, constantly wary.

“I promise everything is okay. I feel better now that I shook my hands out.. Thank you.”

Wanda smiles softly, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Anything for my angel.”

She mutters, her lips brushing your skin. You feel your hands returning to how they were previously bound behind your back. The magic tickles your skin once again, but it’s not unpleasant. You actually enjoy how it caresses your skin. She reclines back on the bed, folding an arm under her head as she watches you move. She guides you with her magic until you’re straddling her hips, and you squirm a bit in the new position. You feel so exposed.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Wanda coos as she leans forward a bit, her eyes trailing up your body as she bites her lip in anticipation.

“I’ve got an idea.”

She looks nervous yet so excited.

“I trust you completely, Wanda.. Whatever you want to do, I’m excited to try it too.”

You urge her to act upon her thoughts. She deserves this- to get what she desires and to feel safe doing it. You know she won’t hurt you, and you trust her completely, especially after your many late night talks discussing what you want in the bedroom. She just has to see for herself that she won’t hurt you. 

She takes your hip in a firm grip and guides you down. You’re not prepared for it, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at the familiar sensation. The waves of thrumming magic lick and vibrate against your aching center, making your sensitive walls clench around it as she begins to guide you down and onto her. It feels solid, the texture strange and pleasurable.

Wanda is going to fuck you with her magic.

 You whimper pathetically as she continues to sink further into you.

“How does that feel, my love?”

Her voice is thick with her Sokovian accent, and that alone is enough to send a wave or arousal washing over you.

“G-Good.. Fuck..”

You curse, your hands clenching into fists behind your back. Wanda holds you steady with a firm hand on your hip, slowly easing you down further and further. You’re whining and moaning breathily, your toes curling. It’s so much, so strange and so good. All of the different sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible.

Finally your hips are flush to hers. Wanda raises an eyebrow at you.

“Just good?”

She hums thoughtfully. You gasp as she rolls her hips up into you, it feels as if little electric shocks of pleasure keep sparking and flying through your body. 

“So good..”

You murmur, finding it hard to speak. Wanda lets go of your hip and leans back. Your heart jumps in your throat without her sturdy hold on you.

“Wanda-?”

You ask, nervous without her security. She watches you with glazed over, bright eyes and an enraptured smirk.

“Put on a show for me.. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll fuck you.”

Wanda speaks the words softly, an amused tone in her voice and a mean look in her eye. You breathe deeply, frustrated with how your hands are bound. You’re going to look pathetic, desperately wiggling on top of her with no way to balance yourself.

Wanda has always been a bit mean like that. She likes to push you to your breaking point and embarrass you before giving you what you desperately want.

You swallow hard, deciding you’ll still try your hardest regardless. Obeying Wanda and pleasing her is what's most important. So, you start slow. Raising your hips, slowly easing yourself off of her before rocking back down. You groan at the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut.

You start a rhythm surprisingly quickly, pathetically managing to raise your hips and sink back down onto her. It has your eyes rolling into the back of your head every time, each drag of her cock leaving your walls feeling as if they’re buzzing.

Wanda is watching you with intense eyes, focusing on every little movement, drinking in every little sound. You notice how her hands are clenching and unclenching behind her head, as if she’s desperately fighting off the urge to touch you.

Oh, she is.

All she can think about is how beautiful you are. How she wants to grab you and turn you into a blubbering, crying mess on top of her. Seeing you struggle to pleasure yourself, knowing how badly you need her to please her.. It’s making her thoughts go hazy.

You groan, the noise caught between aggravation and pleasure as you sink down onto her. Wanda notices the tears welling up in your eyes, desperate and frustrated. You let out a pathetic whine.

“Please, Wanda.. Please..”

You babble, unable to think of anything else to say. That’s when she snaps. She sits up, wrapping her arms around your waist, right under where yours are bound. She presses your body flush to hers as she guides your hips down to meet the roll of her own hips up and into you. It has you seeing stars.

You’re whimpering and babbling with each slow roll of her hips, every precise drag of her cock into your tight cunt. The feeling of the thrumming magic against your sensitive walls is making your knees grow wobbly. Wanda buries her face in your neck, a soft moan making its way past your lips. 

“You’re so sexy..”

She sighs into your skin, and you’re letting out pleasured whines and breathy noises constantly, signaling to your girlfriend how overwhelmed with pleasure that you are. It’s music to her ears.

Wanda moves her hold on you so that she’s gripping your bound arms firmly with one hand, wrapping her other around your upper back to have a better hold on you. You let out a surprised noise as she falls back against the bed, the mattress bouncing slightly when you change positions. You’re laying on top of her, your face smushed against her shoulder.

The witch presses a quick kiss to your forehead before she spreads her legs and angles her hips, your heartbeat quickening in anticipation.

Stars. More stars. 

She starts thrusting up into you, deep and precise. The new position has her brushing up against spots you didn’t know existed, pleasure becoming mind numbingly overwhelming. You’re drowning, everything feels so fucking amazing and you’re drowning in pleasure.

Your face is pressed into her soft skin, and you’re whimpering and letting out pathetic noises into her warm flesh. Her skin sticks to your cheek, and you’re loving being pressed up against her like this. You can feel the red lace drag along your bare skin with every swift thrust up into your aching cunt, her soft skin feels like silk against yours. You can’t get enough of her.

“M’ gonna.. Wanda.. Gonna cum-”

Your words are muffled against her skin, slurred and messy. She’s so deep, everything feels so good and it’s all coming crashing down. With every deep, bone rattling thrust your mind gets more and more jumbled.

“Cum for me, darling..”

Wanda whispers into the roots of your hair, planting a few soft kisses to your head. Your hands tighten into fists, you can feel your nails cutting into your palm as you let out a high pitch keen into her skin.

“Good.. Good girl..”

She coos against your skin, peppering soft kisses on your forehead as she fucks you through your high. You moan loudly as your body tenses, the coil in your abdomen snapping. It’s intense, it wracks your body and has your mouth hanging open as pleasure washes over you in electric waves. You might have accidentally drooled onto her skin as the intensity of the orgasm suffocates you. Her thrusts slow, her grip on you firm as she guides you through your high.

Suddenly the bindings on your arms are released, your limbs freed. Her grip on you is tight, however, as she rolls you over and lays you back against the bed. Wanda runs her hands along your body, leaving more sweet kisses across your features as she pulls out of you, a groan leaving your lips in response.

You sit for a moment, basking in Wanda’s affection as you allow yourself a moment to catch up with your breath and your thoughts. You feel as if you’re on another planet, needing time to allow your body to stop feeling as if it’s vibrating and to completely come back to Earth.

“How was it?”

You ask Wanda once your breathing regulates, your voice scratchy. She laughs breathily against your skin as you move to toy with her vibrant red hair.

“Again, I feel like I should be the one asking you that question.”

Her gaze is pouring with love as she leans over you, her eyes crinkling at the edges in the cutest way possible to accompany the bright smile on her lips. She leans down, her nose brushing yours affectionately.

“It was amazing.”

Wanda presses her lips to yours in a sweet kiss, and you smile against her lips as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

You’re safe with her.

[monocaelia]

comforting you after a nightmare headcanons

nightmares aren't fun, but luckily you have someone there to protect you.

feat. albedo, diluc, childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli

genre : hurt/comfort, fluff

note : hbd to me!! here's a gift from me to you with one of my favorite tropes, hehe <:

❀ albedo

albedo isn't one to dream much, let alone rest. he's always caught up in his own research and experiments that sleep isn't really needed if he wanted to be more productive in his research, despite the worried comments from sucrose and your lighthearted nags that he'll stay short forever.

though, that isn't to say that he's not interested. there are many times that albedo has caught you dozing off in his laboratory while waiting for him to be done with his experiments. he would be lying to himself if he didn't wonder what could possibly be playing in your mind to make you be smiling like that while unconscious.

this time, though, is an exception.

test tubes and flasks filled with various liquids and concoctions fill albedo's workspace as he examines each and every one before filling in his notebooks with descriptions and drawings of his work. there's a shuffle from his other desk and his eyes shift up to glance at you. albedo's gaze softens at the sight of his coat draped over your shoulders as they move to the rhythm of your breathing.

he wonders why you choose to stay at his laboratory so late and wait for him to finish his research rather than head home alone and sleep in your much more comfortable bed. albedo supposes you find comfort in his presence, an odd thing to be comforted by really.

however, the gentle smile quickly falls from his face the moment he hears the quiet whimpers and pleas. as quickly as he could, albedo moves to your side and gently shakes you awake. he isn't the least surprised when your eyes snap open and a gasp leaves your lips.

"...are you alright?" the question breaks you from your daze and you seem to relax when you realize you aren't dreaming anymore. though, the way your hands and shoulders shake doesn't escape the sharp eyes observing you.

"come on, i think i'm done with my research for now. we can head home if you'd like?" albedo smiles when you nod your head, but as he turns to pack up and prepare to leave his laboratory your hand shoots out to grasp his own.

albedo is surprised at first, but the shock melts into endearment as his hand pulls yours up to his lips. he presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles, reassuring you that he'll be right there for you. that you wouldn't be alone.

"nightmares, huh? ...i wonder if i can concoct something to help eradicate the chances of them appearing. oh, don't worry, i won't leave your side for the rest of the evening. promise."

❀ diluc

diluc isn't prone to nightmares, honestly he probably gets them quite often. or maybe even dreamless dreams if he's lucky. well, considering he sleeps at all. he's busy being the darknight hero of mondstatdt in the dead of night, so sleep doesn't come by often for the red haired vigilante.

even when he does get nightmares, there's not many people he can call to or rely on to help comfort him. he doesn't trust any of the knights, and he definitely doesn't trust kaeya to help at all. so comforting someone isn't something he knows how to do well.

but he tries his best to comfort you in any way, shape, or form if you ever needed him to.

the knocking against his door is quiet, nearly nonexistent if diluc was preoccupied with anything other than trying to sleep. he would have ignored it if it weren't for the quiet whisper of his name from a voice he recognized. sighing, he rises from his bed and heads over to his door, mentally preparing himself for whatever you're planning to throw over his head.

instead, diluc is met with your cheeky smile. you're definitely up to no good, but he hasn't quite figured out what you were going to do or say. before he could even question why you're standing outside his door in the dead of night, you interrupt him.

"wow diluc! fancy seeing you here, do you come here often?" he deadpans at you and nearly closes the door to go back to sleep. but he notices the way your fingers twiddle, a sign that you're nervous about something. his eyes flicker to your face, scanning anything that would give him clues on what's on your mind.

"what happened?" diluc's brows furrow in worry seeing the way your smile falls and the way your body begins to curl in on itself. he offers a hand for you to take, an invitation for you to be comforted by the stoic man in front of you. he lets a small smile grow on his lips when he sees you brighten up a tad at his invitation.

your hand is encased in his own, scarred and rough with callouses but comforting and warm at the same time.

"go back to sleep, it's already getting really late. if you need anything, though, i'll be right here until the dawn rises."

❀ childe

although sleep is necessary to maintain perfect health, childe finds it difficult to maintain a proper sleeping schedule due to his job as a fatui harbinger. when the tsaritsa calls, he needs to be there immediately to come to her aid and carry out her orders regardless of how inconvenient it was for him.

but, having many siblings, especially younger ones, has always prepared childe to comfort and protect anyone that he holds close to his heart. nobody, not even nightmares, can get close enough to harm the people he loves, not if he's alive to knock them down a peg.

which definitely includes you, someone who holds his entire world in the palm of your hands.

childe finds you awake at the dead of night after one of his shifts at the northland bank. which is surprising considering you're always asleep before he gets back home from work, always trying to stay up to welcome the harbinger home but always succumbing to the sweet embrace of slumber.

a mischievous grin grows on his lips as he plans to spook you, but as he nears your body, the shaking of your body and quiet sniffles reach his ears. immediately, childe's hand is on your shoulder and he frowns when you yelp and whip around to see him.

"o-oh, ajax, i didn't expect to see you home so soon. i was just getting ready for bed." a white lie. childe presses his lips into a thin line, his hand reaching out to catch a tear falling from your cheek. did...did he do this to you? was he being a bad partner for not putting aside more time for you?

as if reading his mind, you vehemently shake your head and grab onto childe's wrist. "no! no... it's not what you think i just had a really bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep. don't worry, you don't need to beat yourself up over this." he relaxes immediately at your comment, but he still feels bad for leaving you alone when you needed someone to comfort you.

childe leans over, cupping your face in his hands as he showers your face in featherlight kisses. your giggles fill the room and the habinger can't help but laugh as well, especially after pressing a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips. "how about i cook you a nice stew for tonight? it always helped teucer calm down when he was scared."

and you take him up on that offer. the rest of the evening is filled with light laughter from the both of you as childe moves around the kitchen and tells you stories of his childhood. the scene is comforting, peaceful, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"how about we turn in for tonight? don't worry, nothing will harm you as long as your big, strong ajax is by your side!"

❀ kaeya

despite his title of being a "lazy" and "laid-back" captain of the calvary, kaeya isn't one to sleep too much. he has a regular sleeping schedule, though there are some nights where the memories of his past haunt him and he stays up reminiscing about how things were.

he's one to brood alone, not letting anyone see him vulnerable. but he likes to be relied on. there isn't a bone in his body that prevents him from helping anyone in need, even though the way he gets things done is quite... unconventional to everybody else's standards.

but when you call to him for help, he’s there in an instant.

the sound of rustling from beside kaeya stirs him from his slumber. he squints, his good eye focusing in the darkness of his room before landing on your curled up figure beside him. he figures you’re just shifting in your sleep and closes his eyes again, but you shift again and sigh. surely, you’re not sleeping at this point.

kaeya gently calls out your name, a warm smile on his face when he sees you startle from his voice. though, his smile melts away from his face when he sees your expression. it doesn’t help that you flinch slightly when his hand reaches over to brush against your cheek.

“sorry, i just…i’m still shaken from my dream and-“ your apologies are cut short when kaeya sends you a comforting smile and cups your jaw in his hand. he assures you that it’s fine.

“are you okay? how long have you been up?” it takes you a moment too long to come up with a lie that would put your lover at ease. when you come up with an answer, kaeya is already staring at you with his mismatched orbs, one of deep sapphire and the other a light, milky blue color. you can’t lie to him now.

so you tell the calvary captain about the dream you just had, not going too into details with what really shook you. and kaeya listens to everything you say, a hand firmly on your arm to remind him that you’re with him and not whatever occurred in your dreams.

he makes little comments here and there to lighten the mood, though he knows when to keep quiet so you can talk it through. when you finish talking the dream through, kaeya pinches your cheek, chiding you for dreaming of such things.

but he reassures you that you’re fine, and that he’s here to protect you should anything from your dreams come into reality. he jokes about letting you handle everything alone, but you know he wouldn’t despite how cheeky he is.

"don't let the bedbugs bite, [name]. haha, kidding. i'll be here to fight them off if you need me. i am a captain after all."

❀ xiao

xiao isn't unfamiliar with nightmares and dreams. don't forget, one of his duties under the reign of the yaksha's previous master was to devour the dreams of the innocent. it had gotten to the point where dreams were the only things he could stomach, despite detesting the intent behind it.

despite it all, though, xiao is still an adeptus who protects the mortals and the innocent of liyue. his sole job now, under his contract with rex lapis, is to protect even if it means throwing his life away. with a swift call of his name, he would be there to be the guardian of liyue and anyone residing in it.

and that includes you, the sole mortal that the young adeptus enjoys the company of.

a gasp tears through your throat as you sit up in your bed, sweat dripping down the side of your face. your eyes are blown wide open with the visions of your nightmare still clear in your mind. the rapid beating of your heart and panting are the only sounds heard in your otherwise quiet bedroom.

curses spill from your lips as you cradle your head in your hands, your knees pulled up to your chest to try and make yourself as small as you possibly could. but to no avail, no matter what you did to comfort yourself or make yourself forget the nightmare, the visions still flashed in your memories every time you closed your eyes.

you don't hear the rustling from your window, nor did you feel the presence of someone crouching from behind your curtains. it's only when he gently calls your name do you whip your head around, eyes coming face to face with golden eyes that gleam in the moonlight.

"xiao... sorry i didn't see you there," you stutter, quickly wiping your eyes and turning away so the young adeptus wouldn't see you crying. his eyes narrow at you, eyebrows furrowing as a frown settles on his face. "what are you-"

your hands are pulled away from your face and you're pulled closer to him. "you're crying." you try to deny xiao's observation and reassure him that you're fine, but a hand gently brushes against your cheek.

xiao doesn't say anything when the tears begin falling down your face again. he doesn't say anything when you jump into his arms and bury your face in his chest. you feel his arms firmly wrap themselves around you. he doesn't say a word, but his actions alone assure you that he would be there with you for the rest of the evening.

"sleep. should any more dreams come to haunt you during your rest, i'll be here to dispose of them."

❀ zhongli

as an archon, zhongli doesn't find much need for sleep. he's a god and no god needs sleep to be energized for the following day. it's not like it would do well for him anyways, seeing as he would much rather prefer strolling the lit up streets of liyue harbor in the late evening before returning to his home to drink tea and relax.

that's not to say he isn't familiar with dreams and how they can affect mortals. he knows full well the impact they can have, especially if they're dreams filled with horrible outcomes or stuff nobody would like to be reminded of.

so when you come to him to seek comfort after a horrible night, he's ready to welcome you into his embrace.

the gentle whisper of zhongli's name alerts him of your presence from the hallway in your shared home. the archon lifts his head to look at you, eyes made of molten gold meeting your shaking gaze. "what's wrong, dear?" you don't answer his question and instead shift your gaze to the ground.

zhongli tells you to "come here" in the gentlest voice he could muster, and you do. as soon as you sit beside your lover, his hand comfortingly holds your jaw and lifts your face so you can see him. there's nothing but endearment and love in his gaze. "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

he hums in amusement seeing the way your body relaxes after that. there's a gentle tug on your arm, a signal for you to find comfort in zhongli's embrace, and you find yourself snug in between the archon's arms. you inhale deeply, zhongli's comforting scent filling your lungs.

his hands rake gently up and down your spine and hearing his heartbeat from where you rest on his chest calms you immensely. if it weren't for your nervous, rhythmic tapping against his arm, zhongli would have assumed you fell back asleep in his arms.

"would you like to hear about the play i've been attending to recently? the plot is quite interesting, i think you would enjoy it." he attempts to distract you for a while to calm your nerves after waking so abruptly, and it works, not to his surprise.

as he drones on and on about the plot that doesn't quite make sense to you in your dazed state, the archon notices the way your fingers have stilled and your breathing has evened out, much calmer and more regulated than before. zhongli smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"it's starting to get late. you should try to rest again. don't worry, i'll be beside you should anything happen to you once more."

[bensolosbluesaber]

Returning a Favor (Zemo x Reader fic)

TFATWS Ep. 4 Spoilers!!

Summary: When your old friend, Sam Wilson, needs your help in Riga you drop everything and go. You knew they broke Baron Helmut Zemo out of jail, but you didn't expect to bond with the villain. (AKA: I thought getting hit in the face by the Shield would at least leave a bruise. Here's how that would go down with a fourth person.)

CW: Blood, wounds, some creepy behavior (not from Zemo), a few Y/N inserts

No smut yet, just cute cuddles and taking care of each other. Maybe smut in the future though! Let me know if you want a Part 2 or added to a tag list for potential future fics! I think the reader can be any gender; I tried to write it that way and be inclusive, but please tell me if I messed up!

If you know me in real life, no you don't:) I write most of my fics on @aurora521 and write on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the same name. Please don't come for me about finding Zemo attractive.

Hope you enjoy!

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Returning a Favor

Meet me in Riga. -S

That was the text you received from Sam Wilson, your old military friend, yesterday. And now here you are, outside the Riga airport walking toward Sam in traditional undercover superhero attire- a baseball hat and sunglasses.

“Thanks for coming,” he greeted. “We have a little problem.”

“Is his name Baron Helmut Zemo by chance?” You asked, following him to a jet black sports car.

You were very aware of just what type of trouble Sam was getting himself into since you, a SWORD agent, still had access to all kinds of classified information.

“See for yourself,” Sam muttered, gesturing to the back door of the car and climbing in the driver's seat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and slid into the back. And yes, Zemo was there, lounging back with legs spread. He’s wearing a long coat with fur lining, a deep purple shirt, black pants, and shiny leather shoes. He nods to you and smirks ever so slightly. Bucky Barnes, who you had only heard about but recognized immediately, turns from his spot in the front seat and smiles at you.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he says.

“And I you,” you respond.

Sam pulls out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. The ride is mostly silent, Sam and Bucky bickering occasionally. That made you smile, knowing that as much as Bucky annoyed Sam, this was the type of relationship he craved. Zemo watched you the entire drive, sizing you up.

The home they’re staying at is obviously the Baron's. He’s comfortable there, leaning against the counters, rifling through cabinets, lounging on the couch.

“So what am I doing here?” You finally asked.

The three men interact easily, and either Sam or Bucky is always watching Zemo. There’s no real need for a fourth person to get involved, at least not in your mind.

“Someone needs to babysit the Baron,” Sam explained with an annoyed sigh.

Zemo shrugged with a smirk so innocent it’s sinister. He’s still wearing that ridiculous coat.

“The two Avengers can’t handle him?”

“I believe your friends find it challenging to be around me,” Zemo answered for Sam.

“You shot a man in the head yesterday!” Sam snapped. “You antagonize Bucky at every turn. Forgive us for needing a break from whatever is happening in your fucked up head.”

Zemo tilts his head as if agreeing with everything Sam had just said.

“Anyway,” Bucky interrupted. “We have a lead on Karli. You can sleep off some jet lag while we’re gone, but starting tonight it’s your turn to keep track of him.”

You settled into a small bedroom. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep. At home it’s nearly ten at night; here it’s midday.

The trio is back all too soon, heralded by a slam of a door, and you force yourself to wake up to adjust to the time change as rapidly and effectively as possible. As you open the door to the living room, Bucky is stalking toward Zemo. He grabs the teacup from Zemo’s hand and hurls it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, staring at Zemo with an unnerving glint in his eyes.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him,” Sam jumped up and grabbed Bucky’s arm. “He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

Bucky’s face softened slightly. Zemo stops tilting his head.

“Let me make a call,” Sam says and walks away.

“You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo offers Bucky with a mocking tone.

“No. You go ahead,” Bucky hissed, and after a moment of staring, he followed Sam out of the room.

You had watched Zemo for that entire exchange, noticed the slightest flinch and hint of fear when Bucky had grabbed that cup. The moment the other two men are gone and Zemo thinks he’s alone, he pours himself another cup. His hand is steady, but he draws a sharp, unsteady breath.

You move out of the room, and Zemo looks up at you from his spot on the couch. Without a word, you walk into the kitchen, taking a roll of paper towels and carefully picking up the shattered glass.

“I can do that,” Zemo says, speaking directly to you for the first time.

His voice is calm, accent thick.

“It’s alright,” you answer, then gasp sharply as a piece slices your pointer finger from tip to palm. “Fuck.”

You set the bloody piece with the pile of glass and hold a paper towel to your hand. You used the other hand to wipe tea off the wall and floor before picking up the glass piled on a paper towel and placing it in the trash, carefully tucked in other garbage.

“Let me.”

Zemo’s voice behind you makes you jump. You eye him for a moment wondering if there is some ulterior motive, some way he could hurt you or hold you hostage. Nothing comes to mind, not with Sam and Bucky so close, so you hold out your bleeding hand. He clicks his tongue at the wound.

When he takes your hand in his, his fingers are soft and warm. He moves your wound under a faucet and lets water run, rinsing the blood down the sink. He squeezes the wound a bit, and you wince as it begins to bleed more.

“We bleed to clean our wounds. It is the body’s way of protecting itself,” he says and presses a towel to your finger as he shuts off the water. “Ironic isn’t it. The very thing meant to protect us from future danger, often kills us first.”

“I’m not here to debate the ethics of superheroes with you.”

“Hold that,” he lets go of your hand and opens another cabinet. “I know how I feel about enhanced humans. There is nothing for me to debate.”

Zemo takes your hand back in his. You watch his face as he works. He uses his mouth to remove the wrapping from a butterfly bandage. The bleeding has slowed, and he uses the bandage to pull your torn skin back together. The cut isn’t terrible, certainly not the worst injury you’ve ever had, but it will scar. He adds two more strips, then places an absorbent pad over it and wraps it all in gauze.

“When we get back, I’ll change that for you.”

“I’ll hope you don’t get killed then,” you offer with a grateful smile.

He doesn’t respond but gestures to you to join on the couch. You do, keeping what you feel is a safe distance between the two of you. Zemo hands you a cup of warm tea, but as you grab it, he doesn’t let go. Your undamaged fingers brush his for a long moment and he chuckles.

“Promise not to take after your friend James? I quite like this tea set.”

Your eyebrows knit together as he smiles at his own joke and finally surrenders the cup to you. That’s the last words you two exchange, and when Bucky and Sam return ready for the next part of the mission, they find the two of you sitting in silence sharing a pot of tea.

___

When the three men returned, Sam and Bucky held an unconscious Zemo between them. You jumped off the couch, the book you had been reading discarded, and let them lay Zemo down.

“What happened?”

“John Walker,” the two men answered in the same disgusted tone.

You leaned over Zemo, finally seeing the blood and bruise on his right temple.

“This one disappeared for a few minutes, shot Karli-”

“Didn’t kill her,” Sam interrupted, sounding relieved.

Much like Sam, you sympathized with Karli’s motives if not her methods. And much like Sam, you were glad she hadn’t died.

“Then Walker knocked him out with the shield,” Bucky finished.

There was no jab at Sam this time for which you were grateful.

“Which is the only useful thing he did,” Sam added. “Zemo destroyed the rest of the serum, so right now he’s above Walker in my book.”

You looked down at Zemo, blood had dripped down his face and neck, though most of it was dried now. His eyelids twitched as he slept.

“Are you two okay?” You asked as you walked toward the bathroom.

“Fine. We ditched Walker, but we’ll need to get out of here as soon as we figure out what to do with Karli,” Sam answered, collapsing on the couch with a heavy sigh.

You dampened a washcloth in the bathroom and on your way back to the living room, grabbed the first aid kit Zemo had used on you earlier.

“What are you doing? He’ll be fine,” Bucky muttered.

He was sitting next to Sam now.

“Returning a favor,” you answered as you knelt at Zemo’s side.

You dabbed at the drying blood with the cloth, wiping it off his cheek, out of his hair. Somehow the coat came out unscathed. Sam and Bucky were talking about something behind you, but you were entirely focused on the unconscious man.

Zemo had a handsome, aristocratic face, and he walked like royalty, like he was untouchable. This was evidence he wasn’t.

You moved to the actual wound next. The cloth was soft, unreasonably so. A large hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing tightly. You inhale sharply and shift your gaze to Zemo’s hand then his eyes. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax, releasing you and letting his hand fall at his side.

“Apologies,” he grunted, mouth twitching with pain.

“It’s alright,” you answer calmly, very aware that the other men had stopped talking and were fixated on a potential threat. “Turn your head please.”

You put a hand on his cheek and turned him to face you to get a better look at the wound that was still seeping slowly.

“The new Captain America might force me to reconsider my stance on superheroes. I would enjoy seeing Sam and James have a go at him,” Zemo said as you prod the wound.

You wiped the cut with antiseptic, and Zemo hissed a bit at that but said nothing. Then, just like he had done to you, you placed three butterfly bandages on the cut. It wasn’t deep, just long and jagged.

“You’re my new favorite,” he joked with a little grin.

You laughed and walked to the kitchen for some ice. There were no packs, so you grabbed a bag of frozen peas, wrapped them in a towel and set it gently on Zemo’s temple.

“I can’t have you dying when I need this changed tonight,” you said, holding up a finger.

When you turned around, Sam and Bucky had both stretched out on the couch. They both wore annoyed expressions that Zemo got a whole couch and they got one to share. Bucky bumped Sam’s foot with his own, much to your amusement and Sam’s annoyance. He kicked his partner back, and you decided not to interrupt their little couples spat. Instead, you move to sit on the ground.

Zemo grabbed your wrist again, this time gently. He tucked his legs up, folding them into a V, and motioned you to share his couch. And you did, sitting in the same spot you had earlier, this time near his feet still clad in shiny black leather shoes.

“Hey, you two,” Sam called. “What’s this cozy little couch situation going on here?”

“You two could have a cozy little couch situation too if you’d just talk to each other,” Zemo shot back.

He didn’t even look at Sam, just held the frozen vegetables to his face, eyes closed.

“Y/N?” Zemo asked after a moment. “Can you get me an Advil? Or better yet, some sort of alcoholic beverage?”

“I’m not your servant, Zemo,” you sighed but stood and poured him a glass of some expensive alcohol from a bottle with Sokovian writing.

He sipped it, setting it on his chest between sips as he lounged on the couch with you. Bucky was watching you out the corner of his eye, and you were watching Zemo. Every few sips he would grimace, his lips pressing together and chest catching. Then he’d relax, exhale softly and shift the peas back into place. Eventually you picked up your book and began to read again.

Sam left the room to take a phone call a few hours later and came back shaking.

“Karli threatened Sarah, my nephews. I have to meet with her. Alone.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky jumped in, already on his feet. “Walker will be there, and you can’t handle the Super Soldiers and Captain Propaganda on your own.”

Zemo was either asleep or doing a good job pretending beside you. The pea bag had been returned to the freezer. He’d discarded his coat and was now wearing only his black pants and a deep purple shirt with shoulder holsters.

“You got him?” Sam pointed to the sleeping man.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you answered, setting the book aside and watching them prepare to leave.

Both men donned their costumes, Sam strapping his wings on, Bucky ripping the sleeve off of yet another jacket so his metal arm could move freely.

“Call me- us if you need backup,” you shouted after them, knowing full well they would do no such thing.

“If we aren’t back in two hours, take his ass back to jail,” Bucky called back.

Baron Zemo woke up the minute the door slammed shut, which made you doubt he’d been sleeping at all.

“And now it is only us,” he said in that thick Sokovian accent. “I will cook us something for dinner.”

He moved into the kitchen, boiling a pot of water while you watched. You perched yourself on the counter near him as he searched through cabinets. When he noticed you, he paused and chuckled before returning to the cooking. You watched in silence, keeping a close eye on him when he picked up a knife and began chopping tomatoes from a can.

He handed you a bowl of thin noodles with a thick red sauce. It smelled delicious.

“A traditional and simple Sokovian dish, a comfort food you might say,” he explained and joined you on the counter. “I made enough for Sam and James. Call me an optimist.”

Zemo didn’t talk much, you realized, as you enjoyed the food in silence. It was delicious, a bit like pasta. Suddenly, the back door clicked open. You glance around nervously, realizing just how wrong this felt.

“They shouldn’t be back yet,” you say quietly. “And they wouldn’t come in the back.”

“My old associates must have found me,” Zemo jumps off the table, and you notice the same nervousness as when Bucky threw the cup. He cannot know about James or Sam.”

You can hear a single person strolling toward the kitchen in heavy boots.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Zemo whispered, and before you could even process the words, he was standing between your legs and pressing his lips to yours.

His movements are slow and careful, trying not to be invasive as he moves his hands to your back, sliding one up to the back of your head. You wrap an arm around his waist and slide the other hand up the front of his purple shirt, splaying your fingers across his chest. His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours. His hand keeps you from pulling away, not that you’d want to.

“I heard you were back in Riga,” a new voice chuckled. “I had to see for myself.”

Zemo pulls back, feigning surprise, but kept an arm protectively around you.

“And as you have undoubtedly noticed, I am quite busy,” he replied. “Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? I’d prefer not to discuss our business in front of…”

Zemo nods to you. You were staring at the man who you recognized from work files. He was a former Shield agent. When Shield fell, he used the chaos for his own advantage, working for neither Shield nor Hydra and killing anyone who stood in his way. You suspected, but couldn’t be sure, that some of your best friends had been killed by him. Fortunately, you had enough self-control not to shoot him. His mere presence made you tense and uncomfortable.

“Of course, Baron,” he grinned and look at you in a way that made you shift closer to Zemo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, noon. The usual place.”

He gave the two of you one last look and left with a wink to Zemo. Even when the other man had gone, Zemo’s hands were still holding you against him.

“We will have to be gone before noon tomorrow,” he said looking down at you.

For some reason, you were both still wrapped around each other.

“You know who he is?” Zemo said, a statement masquerading as a question. “I am sorry.”

Your face was only inches from him, and you could smell his cologne. Zemo used the hand on your head to pull you against his shoulder. You set your head there, face turned into his neck, and inhaled deeply. And there he sat and you stood, hugging tightly for no real reason except that no one else was there.

Zemo pressed a soft kiss to your head, and rather than protest you let his lips linger. Finally, his head fell on your shoulder. After a moment, he slid you off the counter, took your hand, and led you back to the couch. Without asking, the two of you settled together on the couch, so close your sides pressed against each other. He pulled a gun out of his shoulder holster, and you froze until he set it down on the table, smirking a little.

“I don’t make a habit of shooting people I’ve just kissed,” he chuckled and raised an arm for you to lean against him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at the forwardness. You shouldn’t be, after all, he had just kissed you and held you on the counter of his kitchen. Helmut Zemo made no sense to you, but in the end, you curled against him. He shifted to lay on his back, head propped on the pillows he was laying on earlier while you tucked yourself beside him, head on his chest.

Zemo wrapped an arm around you. You put a hand on his chest, fingering the purple shirt. He was warm and soft, and you had to remind yourself that you could not fall asleep while you are supposed to be watching him.

“Why are we doing this?” You whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you?” Zemo turns his head toward you.

“I haven’t had someone to do this with in a long time,” you answer slowly, cautiously, knowing full well this was a man who could turn on you on an instant or hold onto information until the moment it was advantageous to him.

“Neither have I,” He replied. “German prisons don’t allow much physical contact. Besides, I hope that with enough time perhaps I may kiss you again.”

You tilted your head up to see a grin tugging at the side of his lips, lips that had been on yours a few minutes ago.

“Maybe with enough time,” you answer and brush a lose strand of hair out of his eyes, letting your hand trail over the bruise on his face.

He caged your hand in his, bringing your joined hands back to his chest and holding them there. You felt the rise and fall of his breaths and it soothed you. When they grew deep and steady and the tension seemed to fall from his body, you realized he was truly asleep, not faking like earlier. Soon and against your better judgment, you were dozing off in his arms tossing a leg over his so your limbs tangled together.

Your last thought before you fell asleep was how warm and comfortable you felt with Helmut Zemo, and how completely ludicrous such a thought was.

It wasn’t long before the door opening woke you, still secure in Zemo’s arms. You tried to move, sit up so Sam and Bucky wouldn’t see this little arrangement. You failed. Bucky came in first, stopping in his tracks as he saw the scene on the couch.

“What are you doing? Keep walk- what?” Sam ran right into Bucky’s back then froze.

Their eyes were wide as they stared. Zemo shifted awake beneath you, and you could imagine the smirk on his face. Bucky’s metal fist clenched, and Sam, ever the peacemaker grabbed his arm and opted for a more amicable approach.

“One of you better start talking.”

[scuttling]

Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

[staygolddindjarin]

Grief

Chapter One: History

Din Djarin x Reader x a bunch of other star wars characters

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: Oof this ones kinda angsty right off the bat- ⚠️ attempted suicide?? Kinda?? Age gap (reader is underage, but don't worry it's just for the sake of backstory and also there's no spicy, so...) mentions of death and afterlife, fluff if you like squint really hard

A/n: hello there... I'm sorry to inflict tumblr with this atrocity, but wattpad had to deal with it so tumblr can too. I wrote a different version of this on my wp with an OC name, but I know that not everyone cares for that so this won't include that. Also this series will be such a slow burn... prepare yourself ahead of time because it's going to be agonizing

Words: 6.3k+

SERIES MASTERLIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Part 1/?

"Pehea gar mar'eyir ni...."

How did you find me....

He came and sat beside me, the sound of metal scraping agaisnt the ground when he knelt first.

"Gar cuyir te shi solus tion'ad comes olar jii.  Ni kar'taylir gar jate'shya gar mirdir Ni vaabir," He responded.

You are the only one who comes here now. I know you better than you think I do.

I heaved a deep breath before letting it out in an exhausted sigh. Speaking in my native tongue was something I always appreciated, but now sitting here it felt nearly uncomfortable, but there was a reason for that.

"I wanted to be alone," The words from my mouth were no longer in my language, and he shifted beside me, trying to convey his confusion without a word.

"Care to elaborate?" He suggested, his asking tone was harsh... but then so was everything else about him.

I didn't really feel like explaning my feelings at the moment. I didn't want to focus on the very thing he was asking about. Even though he wasn't absolutely sure of what he was asking.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," I trailed off.

"Try me." His voice wasn't any softer, but the sincerity he rarely showed had seeped into his tone.

"I really don't think it's a good idea. You really won't understand, and for all I know you could make things worse off for me than they already are," I didn't like it when he let his guard down around me. I didn't like getting closer to him, even though I was supposed to.

"I can't force you. Whatever it is, I wouldn't get myself too worked up," He sounded hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it was by my words. He was too strong to be wounded by such trivial things.

He moved in his seat, beginning to stand, and for some reason the thought of being alone like I had originally intended seemed like a horrible idea.

I reached out to grip his arm. I kept my gaze forward, knowing that even if I looked at him I could not see his eyes.

"Stay."

He didn't hesitate. He sat down again, and I no longer felt guilt for the hurt in his voice a moment prior.

We sat for a moment in silence, just looking over the cliffside, into the deep canyons that wove in between settlements and encampments of our tribes and clans.

"I don't want this life," I whispered. I had only half hoped he would be paying enough attention to hear me. My voice was soft enough that he might not have.

"What do you mean?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the choice to even say what I did. I felt a shiver go down my arms, and I felt the wind come into the old open cavern, making the air around me chill. My arms were exposed, for I didn't expect the cold tonight. I didn't expect to be here this long.

"I'll turn sixteen in four days. I will either take the creed, or deny everything I've ever been taught. I'd leave if I do that," I finally gave a glance in his direction. He looked back at me, or at least the beskar did. I could never tell where his eyes were.

"You want to leave?" That pained tone of his voice had returned. The one I felt guilty for without actually believing I had done anything to cause it.

I did. I wanted to get off this planet. Away from the responsibility of becoming what everyone expected of me.

"I have to. It's the only way I will ever be at peace, but I'm not sure if I truly have the strength to stand in front of my family and deny the creed."

I could run away. I had some friends who were planning to jump a transport and join the rebellion against the empire.

They had offered me to be apart of this, but I had refused, believing that I would follow in my ancestors footsteps and take the creed. My father had already provided the beskar for my helmet to be made. It was already in the armourer's possession. All that was left was for me to come of age.

"Where did you go, just now?" He noticed my lack of attentiveness to my current reality, and brought me back to where I was. On the drafty cliffside, with my legs hanging over the end.

"Nowhere. I was just thinking about the future," I had admitted. Though I felt the need to stay emotionally distant from him, and not let myself develop a closeness, I knew I could trust him with my life, which is why I even revealed these things to him in the first place.

"What do you think your future will look like?" The tone that brought me guilt had again left his voice, but was replaced by something else... was it fear? I could not even think of theorizing that he could ever be scared. He was one of the bravest in his clan. Never had he shown an ounce of fear to anyone or anything. How stupid of me to even wonder.

"Merc and his crew are gonna stow away on a crate transport tomorrow. He has contact with the rebellion. He said that I could go with them if I was up for it," I looked down, almost embarrassed at admitting a plan of escape to someone so loyal to this place. Even though he wasn't born on this planet, and even though he wasn't a blood member of any tribe, the foundling was more of a mandalorian than I could ever be.

"You've agreed?"

"No. Not yet," I shook my head. I didn't feel like my reasons were valid. Having him sit beside me, and ask me these things made me realize that I needed to explain myself further.

"Din, I want to be free. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a code that is so restricting to me, binding my every decision. Everything I'd do would have to be following after the creed."

He didn't respond, and even though his features were shrouded under the reflective surface of his beskar, I could tell he was thinking of something.

"I'm not yet sixteen, but when I am... I don't want to be locked down under a piece of metal. I don't want to have to be bound to this planet or a clan. I want to go some place far away and be something that is different than what everyone expects of me. I want to fight battles against the empire, I want to make my own rules. I want to be free to marry who I love, and not be betrothed to whoever my father chooses for me," I finished off my speech about freedom, but realized the last sentence too late. I should have chosen a better set of words.

Din's head hung down, looking at the wrist guards he wore. He shook his head back and forth and before I could interject, he began speaking.

"So that's why...." he trailed off. I was honestly too scared to say anything now. Why must I speak so bluntly and hurtfully honest to people? Perhaps it is because I had never gotten close to him that now I had no fear in what I said to his face.

"If the reason you plan to leave your family is because of me, then-"

"No," I said harshly, catching him off guard. I was usually snippy with others, but I had never before shown a tendency to be angry or intense with my speech. "Believe me, this has nothing to do with you."

"You have always shown enthusiasm towards coming of age. It's only now, when we are arranged, that you show any difference," He brought on certainty in his voice that I nearly couldn't deny, but the truth was... it really wasn't about him. "I can converse with your father, the rest of the clan... I will find a way to break it off if it will make you stay."

"Din, I don't want you to do that. If you don't believe me when I tell you that you are not the cause of this, then so be it, but I will not have you ruining your good name in my favor, when it won't even stop me," The heat of the moment provided actual, physical warmth for me in the time I was running my mouth off, but now that I had finished, and begun to calm down, I felt the freezing air on my arms again, wrapping them around myself and drawing my legs closer to generate more body heat.

"Are you cold?" He changed the subject, needing something- anything else to say.

"Its not exactly warm up here," My voice was low and sarcastic, but at hearing my words, Din stood up and stepped behind me. Before I even had a chance to ask him what he was doing, I felt his thick woolen cape being draped around my shoulders.

I smiled softly, not even a real, full smile. More of just a small tug from the side of my lips. My real smile was saved for later.

"Thank you."

He nodded as he sat back down, letting his legs fall over the cliffside.

"So you're gonna leave with them, aren't you?" His head turned to face me, but I couldn't dare try and stare at the beskar while thinking of what I would do. This choice was the beginning of the rest of my life.

"I think so," I didn't think. Thinking was what I had been doing too much of. Now I was certain. This was my choice. I was going to start new, and become something different. I may have been born on mandalore, but I was definitely not a mandalorian.

I had a rush of confidence come through me until I remembered what this meant. It all hit me like a dropship coming out of hyperspace. What was I thinking?

"No," I whispered. Din didn't understand my sudden discouragement, but he would soon.

"Merc and his friends already denied the creed. He's a foundling. They all are," I started to tear up as I realized what would happen to my family. The loss of a child in a clan is bad enough, but my family hadn't done anything to dessrve this. They were caring. They had shown me love. They had given me the best life I could ask for on a planet with such a religion.

"Second thoughts?" He asked genuinely, scooting closer beside me as to maybe get more information from my body language, or even my breathing.

"I can't do this. My family would be ruined. If I ran away, they would be punished for it," I felt tears coming up in my eyes. My clan was good to me. The people were kind, and I found solace there. Even if I had always dreamt about something bigger, I couldn't bear to let ruin come upon my family name. It wasn't fair to let that happen, especially when the only thing in the way was my own selfishness. "I can't leave my family."

I let the tears stream down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. The contrast of the cold wind on my hot, tear streaked face had helped to calm me down a little.

"If you plan on staying, you understand that I am apart of your future here, don't you?"

"Din, I already told you before... you are not the reason I want to leave," I tried my best to keep myself together, but with my wet cheeks and red, puffy eyes, I didn't see how that could be an option.

What if there was another way to freedom?

I sat, trying to think of some stories that the other clan members would talk about.

"Din?"

He hummed in response, keeping his gaze on me.

"Has anyone in your clan ever mentioned afterlife?" I maybe should have taken a different approach to this. He seemed to be rendered speechless by my topic of conversation, but I had to ask.

"You mean after death?" He asked me and I nodded.

"I've heard some stories."

I thought about how it had been described to me. A paradise, with never-ending happiness, and unlimted freedom. Freedom.

"After you die, you appear in the world as another life. You can do whatever you want and no one has consequences for any of it. It's like a world without chaos. Everything is perfect," I remember every word as it comes out of my mouth. The words that were spoken to me, more like taught to me when I was a bit younger by the elders who had retired from their days of battle.

"It sounds too easy." He said, ripping me out of my fantasy.

"That's the point. You don't have to worry about anything or anyone, because you can do as you please, and everything will still be the same. All you have to do is die...."

"Like being reborn into a different world."

"Exactly."

I hesitated to take my safety blaster from it's holster under my hip, and when I did, I looked at it before pointing it out in the distance and testing the trigger. It shot a blast of lazer energy out into the air, landing somewhere beneath us in the canyon.

I decided that this was not an act to pursue at the moment, for Din was sitting right beside me, and the sight of watching a young girl pull the trigger against her own head might be an unpleasant one. Even for him, though he has seen worse.

I put the blaster back in it's holster and stand up from the rocky ground. Din follows suit, looking down at me with quiet concern. I wouldn't have known it until now, but I wondered if he had come to care for me at all during these last few weeks we had been betrothed.

I'd known him the majority of my life anyways, so I knew he must have felt some sort of attachment to me, but in what form, I hadn't ever cared to ask.

He kept breathing heavily as he looked down at me for a few moments, and it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me something. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

"Here's your cape back," I slid the material off my shoulders, trying to hand it back to him, but he pushed it back towards me.

"You should keep it for now. The sun is nearly down, it will only grow colder."

He reached his gloved hand up to my face, and I could swear I felt the warmth of his hand beneath the coarse leather.

I only nodded, and leaned forward, trying to lean my head into him, but he carefully stopped me, his hands on my shoulders. Instead he rested his helmet against my forhead, and the cold beskar wasn't such a bad feeling as it rested there.

"I won't let you down. I promise." He said, clueless of my plans for later tonight, after the tribes were asleep, and no one would be at the cliffside.

"I know you won't. You're a good man, Din Djarin." I paused, trying to gather better words. "A true Mandalorian if there ever was one."

The moment didn't last any longer because of how frigid the air was becoming. It was warmer back with the tribes, they always had a fire burning.

Without another word, we both left the old artillery cavern and hiked down the side of the canyon to get back to our own clan territory.

Once I was at the edge of mine, I turned around to utter a simple goodbye, and found that he was very close behind me. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

Maybe this was the last time we would see each other. Tonight I would envoke my plan to freedom, to rebirth. Perhaps we would meet in another life. Perhaps I would have just enough memory of this life to try and find him in the next one. One where I will have freedom.

Tonight I had gotten closer to the metal clad Mandalorian than I ever had before. I didn't regret it. He listened to what I had to say, and there were few who ever did.

His hand fell from it's place on my shoulder, but I didn't let him walk away yet. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him tense up for a moment before reciprocating. It took him a few seconds to let out the breath he was holding in, but when he did, he found himself relaxing into the comfort.

"Goodbye, Din," My voice wasn't sad, or overly sensitive in any way. I figured it actually sounded quite optimistic.

"You know I'll see you tomorrow." He said, reminding me of the clan meetings. Once a month the clans would gather and each tribe would go over the agenda for whatever was to happen soon. Battles were normally discussed, but tomorrow, me and a few of the others in the other clans would be talked about. Our ceremonial coming of age where we would take the creed.

"Yeah... right. Don't come looking for me, I don't plan on showing up," I said quietly, careful in anyone was to hear me.

He pulled me back at arms length and looked at me, but his black blast shield hid his features and I could not tell if he thought I was crazy or not.

"How come?" His voice was also quiet, as we noticed some of my clan passing by to get to the fire.

"Don't worry about it. You'll still see me tomorrow," I lied. Or did I? Everyone within the five neighboring tribes would probably see me tomorrow.

He nodded, pulling us all the way apart and stepping back.

"Good."

He didn't look like he was gonna walk away until I had gone into the hub of my clan's small village. I turned around and walked towards the large fire, seeing my mother. Her helmet was unmistakable. The pattern of the strill engraved into the side of the beskar. It was her signet. A worthy kill of her days in battle. I would never have one. I walked towards her when she noticed me.

Her modulated voice let out a small chuckle, before I stepped beside her.

"It is well to see you spending time with Din Djarin. Me and your father were afraid you may not have been fond of him," She kept her gaze on the fire, speaking only loud enough for me to hear her, given that the other mandalorians of our village were also gathering around the fire, conversing with each other the same way we were.

"I am fond of him, why would I not be?" I was unsure of what she meant. Sure, I had been keeping a distance between us since my father had arranged our marriage, but I never had shown that I wasn't fond of him. I was polite, and gave him attention when it was asked of me.

"Whenever I or your father bring up the discussion of your eighteenth birthday, you always seem to act like it's the plague," She was smirking under her helmet, and I could tell. I could always tell what face she made underneath her metal covering.

"Maybe it's the fact that I dread getting married at all. I'm not opposed to Din, though," I convinced her. I wouldn't have to try and do that again after tonight.

"Whatever it is, your father will be pleased to know you and him were in each other's company. Although I will stray from telling him you two were alone... you were alone, weren't you?" She turned her metal covered head, trying to figure out from the look on my face.

"Yes," I answered truthfully, knowing there was no point in lying. No damage could be done at this point, except for maybe towards Din.

"And what were you both doing?" She tilted her head, and I let mine drop. I would tell her the truth, because nothing bad could come from it. Or could it.

"We were just talking... about the future," I answered.

"Your marriage..." She suggested, and I nodded, knowing that it did come up in the conversation.

"Yes."

"I shudder to ask if consummating was apart of this conversation," She looked back at the fire, knowing how red my cheeks would turn and how embarrassed I would be.

"No, nothing like that. I can promise you," I shivered at the thought. Din was a good man, but I didn't necessarily need to be letting thoughts like that intrude my mind.

Everyone else around the fire seemed to be distracted by the glowing flames, and my mother was soon the same, so I suggested my absense.

"I'm going to go in for the night, get some rest. Big meeting tomorrow..." I said before reaching out and squeezing her hand tightly.

She nodded to me, and I took my leave, walking towards our living quarters on the opposite side of camp.

I wasn't looking where I was going, and brushed my shoulder against Merc, who was with Gander and Shyloh.

"Sorry, didn't see you coming," I told him, but he shook his head, optiing ti ask me a question instead.

"Don't worry about it, I was looking for you anyway... Did you think about the offer? We leave at sunrise on the north delivery tarmac," He informed me, but I didn't have an answer. I wasn't staying here, but I wasn't leaving either.

"You'll know if I show up," I gave him a smirk, partially just because I was glad to see someone's actual face tonight, and not just a metal facade.

"We can't wait up for you, just know that."

I nodded, letting them get by. Maybe I could go with them. Live this life freely without starting another one.

No.

My family will not be able to handle that. It's better off if I'm dead. At least they won't go on to believe that I betrayed them, turning my back on all loyalty they had ever taught me. They would nevwr wonder if I ever loved them or planned on keeping their wishes.

I could start fresh. They wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And I wouldn't have to worry anymore either. Rebirth.

I went straight to bed, clutching the woolen blanket beside me close to my chest.

For some reason I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. Something that made the sting of salty tears swell in my eyes. I knew that what I was doing was best, but yet I started having a hard time justifying something so drastic. They would get on fine without me, wouldn't they? They would go on living by the creed. This is the way. They will find a way to go on without me, like they did before I was born. Din will be arranged with another girl as soon as I'm gone. Everything will be alright.

The wetness that spilled over my eyes and down my face lasted hours, even though my mind kept telling itself that it was at peace.

It was in the dead of night, when I gathered a few of my belongings into a knapsack, throwing it over my shoulder before leaving out the tattered window of my private space.

I ventured to the canyon, with the moons lighting my way. The planet was never truly dark, due to the brightness and the number of shinning moons, all the color silver.

I set my knapsack down on the edge beside me. By the end of this, I would be at the bottom, waiting to be found the next day. I just hoped it wouldn't be anyone I knew. Of course, the number of people who ever came out here was only two. Me, and Din Djarin.

I hoped he wouldn't find me. I hoped it would be someone from another tribe that was flying over, and happened to spot something at the base of the cliffside.

I pulled my flask to my mouth, taking a large drink. A bit spilled onto my chin, and I wiped it off, feeling the breeze on my face. It was much colder now than earlier tonight. I wasn't sure if I should pull the blanket from my belongings and wrap it around myself, or skip the process of making myself comfortable and just get this over with.

I leaned over, looking straight at the ground, hundreds of feet below me. My heart started racing, and I got scared. Why shouldn't I be? I have every right to be absolutely terrified. I closed my eyes, trying to scoot myself over the edge inch by inch, seeing if I would just drop.

I nearly panicked when my bottom hit a crack in the ground and I thought I was going over. My breath hitched in my throat and I instantly pulled myself back.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I murmered, beginning to feel the emotional side of everything rise to the surface again. It didn't help that with the absolute silence that circled around me, I couldn't have any single thing to distract me.

I stood to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to ease the goosebumps rising on my skin from the frigid air.

I stood right on the edge, lifting a foot over and leaning forward, but before I could fall, I again caught myself, the adrenaline working overtime in my system and beginning to heat me up.

That wasn't going to work either. If I could, I would put a blaster to my temple and pull the trigger, but then it wouldn't look like an accident.

I paced around back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself down, to stop the whimpering and to make my tears cease. It wasn't working. I just needed to get this over and done with. A new life, with endless possibilities was waiting for me on the other side. Freedom was on the other side.

I wiped my face, even though it didn't stop me from crying, but it helped me to see clearer. I backed up, into the cavern, all the way inside until my back hit the wall of the ex artillery carvern. This was it. A new beginning. Rebirth. New life. Freedom.

I ran as fast as I could toward the edge, my eyes closed. I could feel the wind blowing against me even harder with my speed, and I could tell the edge was drawing near. Every step I took, I felt as though it was my last one.

I finally felt my foot hit the edge, but then I never fell. Instead, I was tackled to the ground. Whoever landed on top of me was heavy enough to hold me down, because half of me was hanging off the edge of the cliff.

I didn't dare even open my eyes. This was a sign. Someone stopped me.

I clinged onto whoever it was, and knew almost instantly who was laid over me when I heard him groan.

I cried even harder, my head buried in his armor clad chest, and my arms around his neck and his torso.

He was holding me tightly, one hand cradled my head into his neck, and the other firmly gripped my waist. He rolled us both over and I swear I felt him shaking.

"What were you thinking?" He stressed, his grip on me tightening as if he was scared to let go. I was scared too. I didn't want him to let go.

"You have to talk to me..."

I heaved a deep breath, deep enough to steady my voice so my whimpering didn't interfere with my words.

"I want out. I need to get out," I cracked in the middle of saying so few words, but they conveyed the message I was trying to get through.

"I can get you out, I promise.... But please don't ever try that again," His voice was full of worry, and as I suspected, he was trembling in fear.

"I'm sorry..." I cried some more, realizing that what I had done was now the biggest mistake I ever made, even if I was saved.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you," He spoke to me, my voice quieting down as my sobbing came to a slow halt.

I lifted my face from where I had burrowed it into his neck, looking up at him. I didn't know what his expression was, but something told me it was fearful, and worrysome.

"I have to get out of here," I repeated again. The last day or so it became my mantra, and would leave my lips often, even just to myself. Mostly just to myself.

"You're going to. You're going with Merc... when are they leaving?" He asked, his arms still around me like mine were for him.

"At sunrise. They're gonna jump a delivery ship on the north tarmac," I explained, my voice was now hoarse and thick, due to not only all the crying I had done, but also the cold night air that had entered my lungs.

"Sunrise isn't for a few hours..." he let me know, and I nodded, knowing we shouldn't probably leave yet, for the walk to the north tarmac wasn't very long from here.

"Din, if I leave, my family is going to get the fire for my decision. I can't let that happen," I told him, my voice had become more firm, and I needed to convey the importance of how much this meant to me.

"I give you my word, that as long as I live, nothing will happen to your family," He swore, and I could just feel his eyes staring into mine. So much so that for the first time since he put that helmet on, I knew where his eyes were.

"I trust you. And I know that you'll always keep your word," I nodded, a small smile finally forming on my face.

Since it got fairly quiet, and we were still entangled together,  I scooted off of Din and opted instead to take the seat beside him.

"I should tell you some things before I go. I just don't want to leave anything unresolved," I admitted, and he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I know this might sound horrible, but I hated the idea of getting too close to you. It was like if I had formed an emotional bond with you, I wouldn't be able to leave anymore. And the last thing on my mind had been to stay. I've wanted freedom for a while now, I was just always too scared to say anything. And when my father told me that you and him had come to an agreement for arranging a marriage.... it's like it all became more real to me. My freedom would be taken in just days. The creed of mandalore is sacred, and it's truly an amazing thing... but it isn't for everyone."

He sat and took everything in. All the words that just spewed from my mouth like I had been holding them in for ages went against everything I had ever learned. Everything that had ever been put into my mind was the opposite of what I wanted.

"You're young. You want more than what the creed can offer you. I think you'll be able to find what you want wherever you're going," He said, I knew there was more, for he didn't even mention anything that I had said about not wanting to be close to him, but when he stayed silent, I knew he was finished, and that I still had more to say.

"Din, I wanted to tell you that if I had to be married, I wouldn't have minded it being you," I admitted. I would leave no stone unturned before I was to just pick up and leave forever... maybe not forever, maybe someday I would return to my family, to Din.

"I can't say I don't feel the same," He seemed to become stiff next to me, but I soon found the reason when he suddenly reached for my hand with his gloved one.

I took it proudly, intertwining our finhers together.

"You know, I was only an eight year old kid when you took the creed. I have so many memories of you yourself, but whenever I recall them... I can't see your face. I've completely forgotten what you look like," I laughed a bit, though it was quite a sad thing actually. I could not remember him in a way that wasn't covered in metal. I remembered that he was a boy once, and that he would play with all the younger children in the clan set next to his. He played with me and the kids I lived next to. He was a lively, energetic boy. Always doing something... sometimes causing mischievous acts. He was so different now. But the change wasn't bad. Since he'd taken the creed he has been the most noble, fearsome, and trustworthy member of his clan. Completely honorable in every sense of the word.

"I don't look like I used to. It wouldn't do you any good to remember anyways," He chuckled under his helmet, and it brought a smile to hear the melodic sound.

"Well, if I'd stayed long enough to marry you I would find out for myself," I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort by his presence. If I had made the absolute decision to leave this planet earlier, I could have let myself grow a relationship with him. Romantic or not, he was easy to talk to, and I trusted him. He was a friend to me, and I never imagined more, but now his presence was just something that put me at such ease.

"Do you think you'll ever come back?" He pondered, seeing as just the tiniest moonrays shown down into the canyon ahead.

"Someday. I'll comeback and repay you."

"For what?"

"Saving my life," I replied. My attempt to throw my own life away had been pushed away but I had to bring it up. I owed him my life.

"Anyone would have done the same if they had seen," He insisted, and I shook my head.

"How did you even know I was out here?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked for an explanation.

"I couldn't sleep, I took a walk through Ronion until I found myself here. I saw you across from the mesa on the south side... I saw you lift your foot over the edge, I knew what you were trying to do," He said, his grip on my hand got tighter almost instantly.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there, I would be at the bottm of this canyon." I let so much seriousness onto my voice, and it didn't sound like me.

"Don't thank me yet... not until I get you on the tarmac,"

We sat in silence after that, just looking out over the horizon. When the slightest bit of light hit the edge of the planet, we stood to our feet, gathering my knapsack and begining the journey to the north delivery tarmac.

We were there in no time, and before I could even look for them, Merc and his crew were in sight. They were all sitting with their backs against some cargo imports, waiting for the transport to arrive.

"Well, well, well... look at what the shriek hawk dragged in," Shyloh said, gesturing to me and Din.

"Djarin, I didn't expect to see you here," Merc raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets onto the transport safely," He assured them. I looked out of the corner of my eye, and in the brighter horizon I was able to see a cargo ship coming into the landing area.

"Our rides here," I said, and they all jumped up. Since the ships were automatically run, and don't even require droids, it was often very easy to hop aboard and be carried to another destination. Of course, there were only a few who ever wanted to leave.

I myself hadn't ever left Mandalore, neither had I traveled much even on the planet. Only a few trips to visit the the markets with my father. I never even went into the city, for it was told that in the city lived Mandalorians who did not keep the creed. The tribes were convinced that they hadn't actually ever taken the oath, and just wore the armor for the sake of doing it.

The ship's doors opened, pulling me out of my thoughts, and a conveyer belt folded down to let the cargo units be carried out onto the tarmac for later pickup.

"Alright, it's time to head out," Gander said, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and boarding the transport.

The rest followed after him, but I still had one thing left to do. 

Din looked at me, waiting for me to join the others, but I came close to him one last time.

"You promise my family will be taken care of?" I asked, to which he simply answered with a firm nod. However the look on my face gave him reason to believe that his answer wasn't good enough, so he spoke instead.

"I give you my word. If they are not taken care of, I will let you strike me dead where I stand."

That was good enough for me. He truly meant it. He was a man of his word.

I pulled his head toward mine, resting ny forehead against his in a traditional mandalorian kiss. I pulled back when I heard my name being called from the transport.

"Goodbye, Din Djarin," I told him.

He didn't respond, he just let me go, watching intently as I boarded the ship before the doors closed.

The cargo transports were always on schedule, so as soon as the doors closed, it began lifting into the air. I looked out through the transparent view finder on the side, watching him stand as we began moving out of sight.

"You gonna miss him?" Shyloh asked, his brows furrowing as if he were sorry for me.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

I lost sight of Din, and realized we were leaving the atmosphere most likely preparing for a jump to hyperspace.

"But I'll see him again."

.

.

Tags are open ig...

A/n: please don't get too caught up in the age gap y'all it's just for backstory purposes because this story is eventually going to follow canon events.... (also i know that this doesn't really portray Mandalore correctly, but let's pretend it does because i had this idea)

[glowingbadger]

So many thanks to my lovely followers who helped me come up with this concept! Arranged marriage has been the vibe with some of y'all lately and I am here for it.

Dimitri x Reader arranged marriage

AFAB reader ('wife', but no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

You lie in bed beside your husband- your Lord Husband, you should say -and there seems to be no cure for the anxious restlessness that's made a home in your heart. It had been like that since the moment you'd learned you had been betrothed to the infamous Boar King. A man of legendary strength and rumored temper. A one-eyed titan who had struck down countless foes with untold brutality. Yes, he and his allies had unified the continent. But great deeds can certainly be done at the hands of monsters.

He'd hardly touched you. Hardly looked at you, at first. You believed he must be disgusted by you, by this whole arrangement. But the need for an heir would be of even greater importance in the wake of the recent war, and so the most suitable arrangement (which turned out to be you) had been hastily made the moment the treatise had been signed. And so you'd come to live with the Boar King, and even to share his bed- though not yet in the fullest sense. It had taken a week for him to meet your gaze directly. When that bright blue star leveled on you, you expected to feel aggression, the rage that common folk told tall tales of in taverns. Instead, you felt hesitation. Sadness. Remorse. And a whole host of other things you didn't have names for yet.

By week three, he had tentatively taken your hand to help you off of horseback. That was the first time he ever touched you. You remember that he held you like fine parchment a little too close to a flame. After that, things had come a little more easily. You shared meals, and even a few polite words and the occasional briefest physical contact. He asked about your comfort in the castle. He assured you that anything you should need could be called for. Now, lying next to him in your bed- the bed you would share for the rest of your life -there's a geometrically perfect space between you two. A gap, seemingly exactly calculated to ensure that your bodies were unlikely to meet in the night.

"Ngh..." He groans, his body twitches and tenses. You've learned that the King suffers from nightmares, though of course you haven't let on that you've noticed. Tonight seems to be worse than the others.

"No..." he growls through grinding teeth, "Stay away... go... no-!" his fists grip the sheets so tightly you worry for the fabric. Then, you're not sure what madness prompts it, but you move closer to him. Just a little at first. Inching towards him as though approaching a frightened animal.

"My Lord..." you whisper, and your fingers just briefly graze his arm. He's warm, his body is firm and strong. You'd never allowed yourself to really look at him in his nightclothes before, but the relaxed collar of his shirt reveals defined collarbones and fair skin, but also a cross-hatched web of old scars. Some part of you had known all along, but for the first time, you truly, fully realize that he's actually strikingly handsome.

You lean over him a bit further. His head turns toward you, but he's still in the throes of his nightmares. Panting breaths cause his chest to rapidly rise and fall beneath you, and you can't help but feel the ache of sympathy in your heart. Gently, carefully, you bring a hand to his face. You can feel how tightly his jaw is clenched.

"Your Highness," you speak louder this time. His eye bolts open. His hand seizes you by the wrist hard- too hard. It hurts, and you flinch, but keep your voice down. For a moment, you fear the inevitable retribution that will surely follow. But then, he exhales, and he releases your hand.

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't realize-" he stutters out, and in this moment, he looks softer and sweeter than you've ever seen.

"You were, uhm... having a nightmare, My Lord."

He nods at you, then sighs deeply. You're at a loss for what to do. Shouldn't the King's wife comfort him in such a situation? Would he even accept any comfort you might offer?

That shock blue eye meets you, and you can tell he wants to say something. All he manages is,

"Why do you call me that?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"'My Lord', 'Your Highness.'" it's too dark to tell for certain, but you almost think that you see a pink flush across his face.

"You're my King." you say meekly.

"I am your husband." he replies, and his eye narrows. It's not quite scolding, but there's definitely frustration there. Truly, it's impossible to tell exactly what he means by saying it, but you can't help the warmth building inside of you. He raises a hand to your cheek, and you're not afraid, though your heart races much the same. His hands are large and calloused, the hands of a man who has created miracles and atrocities, and now it's gingerly brushing your hair from your face. You move closer to him on instinct, and you notice with some relief that he doesn't shy away- not this time. Then, you open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out at first. You sigh, and try again,

"My- My Lord Husband, you should sleep. I didn't intend to bother you, only to make sure that you were-"

He sighs once more, and his eye closes.

"Sleep will not come, I already know. Not on a night like this."

You certainly don't know what to say to that. Anything you can think of would be meaningless platitudes and hollow assurances. You don't know the man well enough to know his demons, but you're certain there are plenty. The two of you are quiet for a time, and though his breathing has steadied, he shows no signs of regaining sleep any time soon.

And so you do the only thing you can think of to do for him.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He breathes in sharply, and you feel his frame tense beneath you- but he doesn't pull away. Your hands cradle his face as you place gentle and tentative kisses to his lips, which are far softer than you'd dared to imagine. And as you carefully move atop him to straddle his hips, you feel his hand tightly grip your thigh.

"What are you-?!"

"I thought that I would... perform my wifely duties to you, My Lord Husband. If you'll have me." you add, a slight tremor sneaking into your voice.

His pupil is wide and this time, you're certain that you can see a charming crimson flush across his cheeks. He speaks your name almost incredulously, though his hand hasn't left your body.

"You- you are under no obligation-" he stammers, and when you try to assure him, he presses on, "you're a prisoner to this marriage, don't you understand? I have no right to ask anything of you- much less that you give your body over to me!"

He seems to have completely forgotten that the entire point of this union was to produce an heir.

"I certainly wouldn't force myself on His Highness if I'm not pleasing to you..."

"That is absolutely not what I mean to imply," he says, almost laughing as he scoffs away the very idea, "I desire you as much as any sane person would, of course, but to think that you would be made to do such a thing merely to placate me-"

"I want this." you say, surprising even yourself with the strength of your words. You sound even more confident than you feel. But every word the King says to you peels away at the wall of anger and fear that you both had been content to keep between you until now, and you feel strongly about your decision. Still, he pauses a moment longer, as if waiting for you to back away from your claim. And when you don't, he draws you down to him and kisses you deeply. You can already feel his manhood rising between your thighs, but soon enough it's just one more piece of information amidst a whirlwind of sensations.

His strong arms wrap around you and his kiss travels down your neck to your chest. He fumbles awkwardly with the front of your nightshirt, so you remove it for him and he wordlessly returns to sucking gentle love-bites to your skin. Shy and curious moans and sighs surround you both in the dark of your bedchambers as you eagerly explore each other. His hands are rough, but he's trying so dearly to be delicate with you. You're more direct, your fingers tangled in golden hair and your body flush to his, creating an intoxicating friction between you.

Your lower body shifts more firmly against him, grinding his now quite stiff member between your thighs. He growls against your skin, and you feel his fingers drag down your back.

"I... ought to do more for you..."

Ostensibly, he means in terms of intimacy, but you have a strange feeling that he intends this to be a more general statement. You rest your forehead to his and murmur,

"I want you, My King."

"Dimitri." he says as his hands trail down to help remove your underclothes, "Just Dimitri, I beg of you."

And soon enough, he's pressed hot at your slick entrance, and you cling to him as he begins to push inside. He's thick- it hurts just a little, and you think for a moment that he was probably right that you both should have done more to prepare. But now he's filling you inch by inch, stretching you out around his cock, and your mind is numb to every thought except one- this is my husband, my lover.

"Dimitri..." You moan into the evening air around you as he bottoms out deep within you and the tinge of pain begins to fade into pleasure. He gives no reply other than the potent throbbing of his cock, rubbing against your inner walls as you both begin to move. You're surprised by how easy it is to fall into a natural rhythm with him. Your hips sink down onto him as he thrusts up towards you, and each pass sends a jolt up your spine. Dimitri buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly, holding onto your hips as you squeeze tightly around him.

Your nails dig along his muscled shoulders as you feel your climax winding tight at your core. He doesn't seem to mind- you're not sure if he even notices. His pace picks up. Briefly, his hands ease their hold on you, as though offering a means of escape. You have no need for such a thing. With a whimpering moan, you press yourself as far down onto his cock as you can until his tip hits your core, then sway forward, grinding his length into you until, with a gasp of his name, your body slacks into his arms.

He whispers your name in turn with something like awe in his voice. With his cock now coated in your climax, Dimitri loosens his restraint, and begins fucking into you in earnest. While your thighs tremble and you can hardly keep yourself supported above him, you manage to meet his gaze and smile warmly, then press a tender kiss to his parted lips. He grits his teeth, and he holds you to him with such strength that you no longer even need to support yourself. Then, he swells, twitches, and his pleasure is spilling out deep inside of you, filling you and warming you through.

You moan happily as you feel his release, then relax your body to lay comfortably against his sturdy frame. He's panting harshly still, but neither of you rush to separate from one another. Once he's just barely composed himself, he lifts your chin and kisses you with a sweetness that you never thought you'd find in a man, let alone the Boar King himself.

Though, once you've eased his spent manhood from you and laid your head against his chest, you hear his heart beating, still just a bit too fast and fluttery. You think for a moment that, yes, your husband is the legendary, ruthless Boar King. Your husband is also Dimitri, a man who looks at you with sincerity that makes your heart ache. A man you don't know well- not yet -but who you find yourself opening to more and more each day.

"I... don't wish to keep you awake terribly long..." he says, with a stilted nervousness to his voice, "but, if you're not overly tired, I- I'd like to... talk for a little while."

You smile a warm, but private smile, then say,

"I'd like that very much, Dimitri."

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

[imagineimpact]

Caught (Scaramouche x Reader)

I got you!  ♥

Caught

Scaramouche x Reader

It wasn’t like you had expected for it to happen but there you were, tied back by your wrists and locked up in some sort of cell. There were strangers around, all masked, keeping a keen watch on you. The fabric stuffed in your mouth kept you quiet. No one had said anything to you, but they most certainly were watching you. Every passing second made you feel worse, the hard clump that you felt in your chest tightening and making it hard to breath. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but you knew that it might have gotten you in trouble if you did. You weren’t sure what exactly you had done to deserve such a thing.

You didn’t want the tears to leak out of your eyes, but they did. It felt like you were a kid in a timeout corner, locked and without being able to do anything. You had no choice but to let the quiet choking sounds escape you as you tried to calm yourself down and drastically failed. It was dark enough. Maybe the candlelight wouldn’t show it to those guarding your cage.

It was a pretty enough lie, at least.

The masks were watching you. You tried to drown out the sounds - the scoffs and the laughs - of mockery that they had made. Maybe the sounds were in your head, but maybe they were real. It was hard to tell, but it wasn’t your main concern; Making it all stop was the thought that hovered above everything else.

The door swung open. The person was backlit, only a silhouette in the distance of your blurry sights. Being unable to wipe the tears from your eyes, you tried to focus more, and to little avail.

The figure - with a familiar enough red scarf around him being the only identifying piece - stepped into the room; You had never seen a group of people come to attention so fast, restoring their manner as if they had been drawn to a magnet. He was looking at you, curious.

“Well, isn’t this a curious sight.” Childe’s words are simple.

“Sir, we found-“ one of the Fatui underlings begins, but with a wave of his hand and a quiet “shh” sound, they scuttle back into their place.

“No no.” Our eyes meet, and he squats down to meet my eye level. “Tell me dear, does he/ know you’re here?” The words feel like a whisper, spoken like a secret.

You go to speak but you can’t. You slowly shake your head.

“Is that the truth?” He asks, softly again.

You nod. He nods back, slowly. Assessingly.

“Okay.”

He stands back up, straightening out and looking around the room. “Where did you find them?”

“Sir, they were loitering around our business. We suspected that they may be a spy for-“

“A spy?” Childe laughs, quite outwardly. The fatui agents are surprised. “Oh, wow.” He looks back at you, eyes dancing over you. “Such a forlorn conclusion to be drawn. But, nonetheless, this is a serious matter.” He spins back around, facing the door and striding toward it. “Everyone in this room is to remain here.” He orders. A chorus of “yes sirs” ring out across the room, and he stalks out, closing the door behind him.

There’s a moment of silence for us all, and it lasts a few minutes. Then, a sense of forbode disperses like a gas through the room, leveling over everyone. Everything feels like energy has been released and no one wants to be in it, and everyone tenses, watching the door.

And there he is. Your heart pounds faster than it had before, and you are washed over with a sense of relief.

You are the only one.

“There you are.” He barely acknowledges anyone one in the room as he stalks over, clearly pissed off. He snaps his gaze to one of the fatui, murderous. “You. Tell me why the one person who never should have step foot in this place is locked up in front of me.”

“S-Sir-“

“Talk faster.”

The fatui agent, terrified of the electricity basically flying through the air, shakily explains that you had been lingering around the commerce center in Liyue, the one where Scaramouche had happened to be visiting for the time. You were both a long distance from where you were supposed to be. The agents had suspected that you were hanging around in order to steal information.

“And you were all responsible for this arrest?” His voice lowered dangerously. There was a slight hesitancy across the room, but everyone owned up to it. 

You’d never seen him like this before. Not to this extent. You felt cold, not wanting to make any sounds.

“You must all have a death wish to do such a thing. Get out of my sight.” He demanded. When there was a slight hesitancy, he narrowed his eyes and turned more directly to them.

They scattered like scrambling mice, all heading toward the door.

He took the key off the table and held it tight, circling to the back of the cage and silently untiring your hands. He reached around and pulled the fabric from your mouth, then rested himself on the ground in a kneel.

You turn around and face him. His expression is resting, neutral. It hits you: a thought that maybe he could murder someone with such a calm gaze.

You don’t want to think it. You shrink back slightly, his gaze tilting to the side slightly as he watches you.

He says your name softly. You meet his gaze as he straightens his head once more. “You’re shaking.”

His words are simple, but you hadn’t realized it before. You also hadn’t realized, until this moment, that you had backed away from him when he untied you.

“You’re scared of me.” He says quietly.

It might be true. You can’t really tell.

He calls your name softly again, trying to draw your eyes back to him. You do. “Look at me, please.” You meet those eyes again as he takes his hat off and rests it on the table behind him. “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple question. You know it’s purpose and you give him what he’s beckoning for, “I’m...” It’s a more difficult question to answer than you had expected. “I’m scared.”

“I see.”

“Not you... this.” Your eyes wander around the cage, and you pull your knees to your chest. You let the remaining tears fall on the fabric of your clothing, and you stare back at him.

“Alright. Alright.” He takes a deep breath, and his eyes crease. “Why don’t you start by telling me if those putrid guards were telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t spying. I just... Yes, I was lingering.” You sigh, deeply, and shift up to be closer to him, resting on your folded legs in front of him. “I just wanted to see you.” It’s a quiet admission of thought. You’re not quite sure what to even think about it.

“You wanted to see me.” His voice is soothing. He stands up from his place on the ground and walks over to the other side of the cage, unlocking it and stepping in, standing over you. You shift to face him, keeping silent. He places a hand on your head, then kneels right there, is front of you, and let’s his hands rest on your waist instead. “You risked your life, do you understand that? If they were competent they would have just killed you right there.”

You blink. You don’t know if you ever stopped shivering, or if it started again, but you feel that sense of panic return. “Killed me?”

“Yes.” He pulls you into his chest, tightly. “You are unbelievably lucky right now.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only think you can choke out. “I didn’t think-“

“Shh.” He sighs, running his hand through your hair. “You didn’t know.” The softness gives you whiplash from the sudden switch. 

You’re not sure what to say. For a few moments, he just holds you close to him, and really you’re not quite sure whether he expects you to say anything else.

The sigh he lets out is deep, exhuming through the air as if it could push walls. You feel his chest puff back up after a few seconds as he regains all of his air. The way he holds you, you can tell that the situation is exhausting for him. His grip on you tightens quickly, suddenly.

“What am I going to do with you?” The question is quiet, strange. It doesn’t feel like something he would say.

As if realizing that very fact, he pulls away and stands up quickly, taking your hands and pulling you up. “You should be returning home by tonight.” He turns away. “You are never to go near the other Harbingers or the fatui again, do you understand?” He wanders over to the other side of the cage again to retrieve his hat, gently swaying it so that the fabric eases itself out of any folds before placing it upon his head. “You would be foolish to try and hurt yourself like that again.”

You step out of the cage, closing the door of it as you do. He steps around once again and lifts your chin, gently pushing you against the cage and giving you a kiss. It was not the kind of kiss that was given for a long-distance goodbye. It was the kind that you gave a lover to tease them, to tell them that you would see them that night. The kind that, when parted, isn’t enough. 

When he steps away from you, pulling you by your hand toward him and resting a hand on your waist, a glimmer of that softness that he has when you’re alone together shines to you.

It’s the one reassurance that you have, that he truly loves you.